Not quite Right and Struggling

I have heard people describe the Lakes as Switzerland in miniature – mountains, streams, waterfalls and forests - not forgetting twisting roads up, down and round the mountains. Early spring is probably the most dramatic season to visit the Lakes as melting snows swell the rivers, and waterfalls are at their most spectacular. Even though it was the middle of June we fully expected the unpredictable weather that the Lakes was renowned for to have had a minimal effect on this area of outstanding beauty.

Ullswater lived up to our expectations. Sensitively built stopping places and steps made the shore accessible. There was a choice of seating on old tree stumps or rocks in the sun or shade – ideal for the luxury of reading a newspaper. Climbing to the top of Aira Force in the heat proved a challenge and as the river was quite low we decided that water falls were best seen in the spring after melting snow had swollen the rivers.

Thirlmere had, in 1864, been turned into a reservoir to supply the city of Manchester with fresh water – another feat of engineering by the Victorians. Even today, this lake has the purist water of all the Cumbrian lakes. Daily, 220 million gallons of water are siphoned from it to meet the demands of Manchester. The sun was just beginning to come out from behind a cloud as we parked the car. I watched fascinated as the true colours of the mountains on the opposite shore came to life from left to right as the shade disappeared. The same was happening to the dark reflection in the water. There was so much detail to the emerging picture. It was as though I was watching an artist at work, even down to a white strip, wider yellowy, brown strip and then another white one in the middle of the picture – almost as if the mountain top and bottom were suspended from, or held up by, this solid band.

Throughout our travels that day, although the scenery of the mountains was breathtakingly beautiful, most of the streams, rivers and waterfalls were scarcely flowing. We concluded that perhaps to see the waterfalls at their best it would be better to visit the Lakes in the spring when the rivers would be at their highest with the melting snows.

Back at our B & B that evening my misjudgment of the apparent lack of water in the Lake District became apparent when one of the items on the local news was the lowered water levels in the reservoirs. Drought conditions had reduced the reservoir water levels to 50% instead of the seasonal norm of 75%. Two weeks after our return home to East Anglia a picture of a white-stoned Cumbrian river bed, similar to the many we had seen on our holiday, and the imposing of a water ban in the area revealed how serious the situation was.

We had enjoyed our visit to one of the wettest areas of the country and had missed the reality of the situation completely. We had thoroughly enjoyed the phenomenally good weather and had not seen the lakes as they really were. I had excused the dry river beds and less than spectacular water falls by stating how wonderful it would be at a different time of the year! I was correct in what I saw but had totally missed the point with my incorrect deductions for the cause. I had been taken up with what I could see – first impressions - and how taken in by them I had been! If I had stopped a little longer, and reasoned a bit more, I would have remembered that the Lake District is renowned for its unpredictable weather and abundance of rain. I felt a trifle silly to have missed the obvious as I am usually clued up on these subjects, and my husband who is not, believed me. In this instance it had not mattered that I had read the situation incorrectly - it is so easy too, to take others with you even when you believe yourself to be right but you are not, and they, putting a lot of store on what you say end up in a muddle or making wrong decisions. Actually my husband was not in the least bit perturbed by my incorrect assumptions and like myself was more concerned with the news of the drought.

Back to our journey: Buttermere, as its name suggests, is surrounded by lush pasture land where the making of butter dates back to the 6th Century. The building of Newlands Pass in the 1770’s gave rise to a lucrative copper and silver mining centre. Today sessile oaks are growing on the mountain side where they once stood before they were used as fuel for the furnaces.

Strugglers Way is the tough route to Buttermere and, not to be outdone in our quest to see the best views, we took it. One either sped down roads to a blind bend with no barriers to prevent the car from careering over the edge, or hoped that the car would not grind to a halt and slip backwards as it struggled to the crest of a steep incline. I remember well the smell of over-heating brake pads and quick changing to lower gears with the car almost stationery!

It was good to reach our destination without mishap to ourselves or the car. We might have chosen the difficult route but it was worth every minute of the experience and the recommended viewing place offered a walk up the only other water fall with water flowing down it and a climb up to the summit of a mountain offering a walk on its smooth top - a quite unexpected find. How often after we have persevered and reached our goals do we find that the rewards are great. It is well worth sticking to our vision - whether it be for ourselves or someone else - no matter how difficult it may be to reach it.

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