By a Mossy Gnome

Vacuum cleaning with a beak

Jackdaw in Grasmere cafe, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

What better than to sit on the outdoor balcony of a café in Grasmere which overlooks the river, with a pot of tea, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine, listening to birds singing and watching the ducks?  Across the river is a medieval church, in whose churchyard William Wordsworth lies buried, and next to that is a little public garden with benches set near the river.

When you have finished your tea and cakes, a valet in a black feathered suit, who has been waiting patiently on the railings by your table, moves down and quietly cleans the crumbs off your table top.   There he is at work in the picture.

I must take a picture of that one day

Spring, the Lake District, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

So often I’ve driven past thinking: I must take a picture of that one day.   On the road from Coniston to  Skelwith Bridge is a space to pull in and admire the view towards Little Langdale and the mountains beyond.   A faint wash of green is appearing on the bare branches, and a spattering of blossoms.   It may be cold and wet sometimes, but winter is definitely over.

Watching the Gondola from the Bluebird

2008_0427080428lakes0013, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

Plans to spend a few days visiting the Lakes each day have been held up by car problems  until today.   We went for lunch to the Queen’s Hotel in Ambleside, where the men around the bar were gloomily wondering whether or not Boots is open since the big fire in the shopping area.   A large chunk of roof appears to have been eaten by the flames, and it looks as though a dragon has taken a big bite out of it.  Scaffolding has gone up and blue netting put up around the damaged section of roof.  Lakeland is offering a smoke damage sale - we sniffed when we went in, but the clothes didn’t smell too smoky. 

Here is a desirable spot for sitting out, enjoying a pot of tea and a view of Coniston Water.  The Bluebird Café by the side of the lake is usually crowded, but the earlier rain and a cool breeze must have discouraged the usual customers.  We had a good view of the steam yacht Gondola approaching the pier and gliding past the well-fed ducks.

Who would guess?

Red Screes and Dovedale, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

Who would guess that the valley below, seeming to consist of a few bare trees in a great stretch of bleak wilderness, is the lovely Dovedale? It is an enchanting little valley, full of the sound of streams and waterfalls, and inspired Wordsworth’s Lucy poems. In spring it is a place of primroses and wild violets. From this height, though, it seems barely worth a second glance.

More drystone walls

Drystone walls, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

I mentioned the drystone walls on the Lakeland Fells a couple of days ago.  When they incorporate a rocky part of the hillside, as seen here, they can look as though they have grown round it rather than been built.   Now we either take them for granted, hardly noticing such a familiar feature, or else we admire them and the skill required to build them.  Modern fencing looks so ugly in comparison.  When the walls were first built, though, they must have created an appearance of something chaining down the wild hills.  The rocks, newly quarried and raw, may have looked as intrusive as a modern wire fence.  Had a powerful conservationist lobby existed then, perhaps they would never have been built.

More information about the drystone walls here.

Paths multiplying and growing

Hartsop above How, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

It's a few years since I last climbed up Hartsop above How, and it has become much more eroded in the meantime. It used to be a fairly quiet route, following a narrow footpath. Now it is evidently much more popular. Wide sludgy bands are forming across some parts of the hillside. These are caused by people who seem nervous of getting their boots muddy (why?) and walk carefully round any damp areas, forming new footpaths. These grow muddy in their turn and walkers move further and further out, trying to skirt them. Even on drier parts of the mountain there is evidence of mysterious erosive behaviour on the part of some walkers - I have never understood why this happens. There is a good, clear path, but for some reason these walkers seem unwilling to walk on it, but stride along next to it, forming a new path, parallel to the first. Then others, taking exception to both these paths, wear out another track, parallel to the first two. On some popular mountains, the equivalent of a multi-lane highway forms, with five or six parallel paths, close together.

Hill-climbing walls

Wall on Hartsop above How, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

We take those miles of drystone walls for granted now. They are old and weathered enough that they look as though they are part of the hills, like crests of rock that have grown out of the mountain. Don’t forget those who made them so skilfully, in the various degrees of discomfort offered by the Lakeland weather, for low wages. Here is a wall which strides along the top of Hartsop above How and then climbs uphill, just like the fell-walker who follows its line. It is framing a view towards Gray Crag and the High Street fells.

Only half a view today

Ashton Memorial, Lancaster, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

The Ashton Memorial stands on top of a high hill in Lancaster, overlooking a splendid view, including the medieval castle (now a jail and courthouse), the river and Morecambe Bay. On the far side of the bay you can usually see the mountains of the Lake District stretched out along the horizon. It’s worth the uphill climb to see it. Today, though, the sunshine and warmth were accompanied by hazy conditions which completely hid the hills on the far side of the water. No Lake District.

St Dominic’s Mountain, St Patrick’s Dale

St Sunday Crag, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

Anxious mother sheep herded their new lambs away, after looking suspiciously at my camera.  I gave up trying to take pictures of them as they walked purposefully away across the field, followed by their wobbly-legged young.  Here, instead, is a field minus sheep, with a view of St Sunday Crag.  It was named after St Dominic, who was sometimes known as St Sunday, from the Latin “dies Dominica” or the day of the Lord.

The mystery is why St Dominic should have a Lake District mountain called after him, as there were no Dominican religious houses in the area, and the local devotion was traditionally to St Patrick.  Christianity was introduced here long ago by Celtic missionaries, and Cumbria is one of a number of areas from which the saint was said to have originated.  Patterdale was originally St Patrick’s Dale, and there is a St Patrick’s Well by the side of the road to nearby Glenridding, probably unnoticed by most drivers as they negotiate the twists and bends on the approach to the village.

Dark crags under a gloomy sky

Deepdale, originally uploaded by byamossygnome.com.

It was as cold as winter yesterday on the higher reaches of Hartsop above How.   The day started sunny, but then a blanket of grey cloud covered the sky and hung low above the mountains.   An icy east wind blew throughout, feeling increasingly cold the higher I got.  The great, dark crags of Fairfield loom over the head of Deepdale - oppressively dark under the grey cloud.   Dollywaggon Pike is just visible over the col between Cofa Pike and St Sunday Crag - three of the oddest place names in the Lake District, although I suppose Hartsop above How is an odd name for a hill, too.