Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Dales Way - Day 6

Another perfect day weather-wise. When will our luck run out? Last evening was spent at the Jolly Angler in the company of Robert and Paul, our fellow wayfarers, Assumpter (our name for the very energetic young Scotswoman who ran the pub) and Harry the mole-catcher and executor. Some great yukk-yukk-yoing all around!

We needed to set a goodly pace, as we had 17 km to walk, but still make it in time for the 3:00 train from Windermere. Didn't want to have to sprint for the train with bags flying and blisters singing at us! [PS we made it on time.] Day 5 had been our toughest day, though it was difficult to tell exactly why. Lots of undulations, I suspect, which told heavily on calves and blisters (I, sadly, must confess to the latter, as I had not taped up before setting out - what a goose!). Quite different country here, with more open fields and stately houses - whitewashed, not stone. Rock walls mixed with hawthorn/gorse hedges, rather than just rock. More very cute lambs, including a set of twins born just prior to our arrival at the birthing site.

No Robert and Paul and we wanted to convey to them that you really do not know the Dales Way unless you had done the Bernside to Bowness bit (a little on the mean side, but we don't have any way of communicating this bit of nastiness, so it doesn't matter really ...). Coming in to Bowness was entering a maelstrom of frenetic tourism and rushing commerce. Down by the edge of Lake Windermere hords of holidaying tourists jostled for lake voyages on crammed sight-seeing boats. The town buzzed with holidaying activity. It was Sunday and not much time before all needed to hop back into their cars and resume work the following day in whatever part of the UK they earned their respective crusts. Imagine what it would be like in the holiday period!

We decided to walk the 1 mile to Windermere rather than catching the bus. This was a good call, as no bus hurtled along the track in the direction we were walking. No bus hurtled the other way as well. About half-way along we walked past Ye Olde Bathhouse where our friends Tim and Jenny Dickinson lived during one chapter of their lives. Absolutely cute as! We felt strangely 'at one' with those Dickinsons for a nanosecond or two before resuming blister-stomping on the way to the station at Windermere. On the way we stopped to grab some fish and chips from a tiny, but very efficient little shop run by tiny but efficient husband and wife. My little joke was not received very well ("... anywhere round here you can get fish and chips?"). The reason we chose this little shop was because it did not have a sign out the front advertising 'quality' fish and chips. They were very tasty, I can tell you. Very similar to the f&C purchased on the wharf at Port Fairy at the end of the Murray-to-Moyne ... Mind you, they couldn't possibly been as tasty as the 'chips and gravy' bought by the gentleman and little boy who were the customers served after I placed my order! What a meal that would have been, especially combined with the sausage added as an afterthought by the father.

The train departed on time, with us having shared our haddock and chips and cod and chips. I think that the best bits were the salt and the fat.
Hurtling past some of the country we had walked through, we were soon on the train to London, zooming at some incredible break-neck speed through the landscape of central and southern England where we arrived at Kings Cross station and caught up with Dear Stephanie. What an adventure it all was!

No comments:

Post a Comment