A WEEKEND IN THE LAKE DISTRICT

"Bow Sprung" Bridge, between Keswick & Threlkeld, 31 March 2012

In order to recharge the batteries or just take a breather out of the madness of life, we risked the possible problems that might be caused by the burgeoning petrol drought and dragged ourselves on up to the Lake district after work on Friday evening last week, having booked ourselves into our usual preferred accommodation just outside Keswick and arrived just after 7.00 in time to grab a quick meal at the “Farmer’s Arms”, down a swift pint of Jennings and stroll back looking at the stars just in time to crash out for the night.

The next morning, after the kind of four-course breakfast that only seems reasonable when you are away from home and somebody else is doing the preparation and washing up, we headed out to attempt on of the bird-watching walks as recommended in a book we bought about such things during our last visit.

The cameras were charged and the binoculars packed away, and off we toddled, walking into Keswick, resisting the temptations offered by the market and found the start to the Railway Walk to Threlkeld which was supposed to be a gentle stroll consisting of about four miles of bird-watching joy, hopefully without the masses of people likely to be drawn there by the enthusiasms shown in the television programmes featuring Julia Bradbury. (Naturally, there was not a sign of her, or her film crew, to be seen, which was rather a blessing.)

It was a bit of an overcast day, to be honest, especially when compared to the bright delights of the previous week (it’s all in the timing…), but it wasn’t raining and immediately the old railway station was a photo-opportunity far too good to ignore, although I did find that I had the wrong card in the camera which meant a quick regroup to start all over again.

The birds were, typically, rather thin on the ground. We could hear an awful lot of them, of course, but they were probably busily experimenting with the joys of springtime and far too busy enjoying themselves to want to spend any time posing for second-rate snappers. The few I did see were very uncooperative, as was the lens which I’d picked out for use for the day. Despite being my most powerful (i.e. not very…) telephoto, it was so slow in its autofocussing that, after missing two of those “ones that got away” that give picture-takers nightmares, I grumpily packed it away and reverted to my “tried and trusted” old faithful Canon lens. Not able to get in quite as close, but far, far quicker at capturing the moment.

It’s not that there weren’t any birds, but just not as many as we’d hoped, although the walk did conclude with us spotting a Buzzard going hunting in the woods which made the whole attempt at doing a bird-watching trip feel well worth the effort.

However, whilst the birds were somewhat lacking, what there were on the trail were eight “bow-sprung” railway bridges (at least I think that’s what they were called...) that now serve the purpose of holding up the footpath for the ramblers, bird-watchers and cyclists who now use it in the absence of any trains and tracks and I got rather involved in trying to get a reasonable picture of one or more of them which I never really achieved, but it’s a pretty photogenic part of the world and I’d recommend it to anyone who fancies a picture-taking trip. I’m sure you’d make a far better job of it than I did, although I should warn you that there are often rather a lot of people using the path who will get in your way if that kind of thing bothers you aesthetically, as it does me, grumpy old snapper that I am….

I must learn to be more patient.

After munching on our (not really) government-issue pasties which we bought for our lunch in Keswick, the rest of Saturday was spent in Ambleside, mooching around because we didn’t fancy any of the movies on show at the cinema, but we still went to “Zefferelli’s” for a vegetarian pizza anyway and then we drove back to our lodgings, and, after returning to the “Farmer’s Arms” to try another in their range of “Jennings” beers, we happily spent the evening in the room watching an “Arena” documentary about Jonathan Miller who reminded me how very tiny my brain really is in comparison to some.

Another day dawned, a Sunday, and I had another massive breakfast, before checking out and heading to Rydal water to attempt another of the bird-watching walks, take some pictures, and try to seek out more of those elusive birds to photograph before heading home. Doubtless I shall expand upon that another day. After all, I don’t want to use up all of the creative ammunition such trips bring me in one tiny posting…

So, in the end we spent about forty-five hours away from home, but every so often we all need a breath of fresh air and a chance to step out of our “real” lives to look at it from a fresh perspective, and there are far worse things to do with a weekend than that.

Rydal Water, All Fool's Day 2012.