Sunday 12 June

After a sound sleep I crawled out of my tent, collected Angus and Bosun and we walked a short way up the hill to look over Thirlmere valley. The farm’s inquisitive lambs came over to say hello and Bosun was very excited at the prospect of some wooly playmates, so he remained on a very tight lead. The wind had dropped and the sun shone through a thick layer of fluffy white cloud, making the valley look extremely green with its grassy belly and forested hillsides climbing above the dark water of Thirlmere reservoir. We decided that we did like the campsite after all, and headed back down the hill for a breakfast of cereal and dad-seared toast.

The forecast consisted of wind, cloud and rain, so rather than make ourselves miserable getting wet we decided to go on a boat trip around Ullswater, the national park’s north-easternmost and second largest lake. We bundled into the van and dad drove us to Glenridding, a pretty lakeside village. It was only about four miles from the campsite as the crow flies, but we had to circumnavigate the uncompromising bulk of the Eastern Fells which made it a twisty, scenic half hour trip.

Ullswater boat trip, Glenridding village

We parked in the large, central car park at Glenridding and hurried (unnecessarily) down to the ferry landing. We had a cup of tea in the cosy café on the water’s edge and boarded the Lady Wakefield at 11am. She was a medium sized passenger boat with lovely, glossy wood panelling on the deck and inside the large, two-storey cabin, which reminded me of an old train carriage with its rows of tables and chairs, tiny toilets and downstairs bar.

We sat out on the deck as the boat chugged along the long, thin lake. The banks on either side rose steeply above the water and Helvellyn sat behind us, its lofty ridge framed perfectly in the “U” between two curved slopes. Patches of dark forest peppered the grassy hillsides and the land undulated at random, occasionally flattening out enough for a house or two to nestle into the lower slopes, and everything all around the lake was some shade of green. It was lovely to be out on the water with such a unique, immersive view of the surrounding fells, even if the wind was a bit chilly.

As we passed Aira Force waterfall the loudspeaker told the tale of unfortunate Lady Emma, whose knight fiancé found her sleepwalking by the waterfall one night. As he tried to wake her she slipped and drowned in the water, so he lived out his days mourning in a nearby cave. Apparently she continues to haunt the 66-foot waterfall, which sadly can’t be seen from the lake. We also learned how poet William Wordsworth’s famous Daffodils poem (“I wandered lonely as a cloud…”) was inspired by the yellow banks of Ullswater in spring, and how the lake is one of only four in the world that contain the schelly, a fish in the salmon family.

The boat rounded a corner and stopped at Howtown, a cosy-looking hamlet at the base of high, grassy Hallin Fell and Loadpot Hill. A few people boarded and unboarded, then we carried on to Pooley Bridge at the northern tip of Ullswater. As we approached the hills flattened out and lost some of their wildness as rugged slopes gave way to neat farmland, and more buildings cropped up around the edge of the lake. At Pooley Bridge the captain warned against getting off the boat because the high winds meant they may cancel the later return trips to Glenridding, so we stayed on board. I didn’t mind – Pooley Bridge looked a bit too flat for my liking.

On the way back we sat and admired the view from the warm cabin, where I tracked our progress on a map and ate biscuits. Despite being an abnormally restful activity, it was quite nice sitting in comfort and looking at the mountains from afar, and the trip – about 17 miles there and back – was a lovely way to see the whole of Ullswater. When we were almost back at Glenridding I was delighted by the tiny, wild islands in the middle of the lake, one of which would have been perfect for a night in a hammock, and envious of whoever could afford to visit the posh hotel on the edge of the lake.

We got off at the pier and walked over to a beautiful lakeside meadow, where Bosun was unleashed to play in the water. We returned to the pretty village centre, nipped into a slightly-too-touristy shop to grab picnic bits, then waited near the car park for several weeks while mum shopped for a hiking pole. Only after I’d lost the will to live did we make it back to the van, then drove back to Bosun’s lakeside meadow for a picnic of sandwiches, crisps and biscuits – mother was redeemed.

Castlerigg Stone Circle

We left Glenridding about 2:30pm and drove back up the twisty road, then west along the A66 to Castlerigg Stone Circle. We parked in a layby and ambled over to the stones. The c.3000BC circle consists of 38 grey slabs, some above head height and some below knee height, is one of the oldest stone circles in the country, and is thought to have been used as a place for communities to meet, trade and hold religious ceremonies. It stands in a hilltop field that offers panoramic views west over Keswick, backed by the rolling, hazy blue Derwent fells, south over the rugged green valleys of Castlerigg, east over moor-like Threlkeld and north to the towering peaks of Blencathra and Skiddaw. It could only have been more atmospheric if we’d had the place to ourselves.

Keswick

After bimbling around the circle and gawping at the landscape, we went back to the van and headed down the hill into Keswick. I’m very fond of this town, with its pretty cobbled high street, multitude of outdoor shops and lakeside position on the northern edge of Derwentwater. We looked around the information shop in Moot Hall, a lovely, grey stone building plonked in the middle of the high street with a tall, distinctive clock tower that used to be a marketplace downstairs and a courthouse upstairs. We wandered down some back roads and spent a while in another historic building, now the George Fisher outdoor shop, which contained a lot of very nice, very beyond-my-budget gear.

Bored of shops, Ryan, Angus and I found our way through pretty, quirky streets to Hope Park, a lovely public space near the lake with lots of pretty flowers and little gardens. Then we found nearby Crow Park, a large green field full of sheep and geese that sweeps down to the northeastern edge of Derwentwater, and decided to bring mum and dad back later. We reconvened in the town, moved the van to a lakeside car park, had a cup of tea and headed back out to find somewhere for dinner. All the pubs were busy, but luckily mum and dad found the Pocket Café Bar, a tiny, independent pizza place. 10/10 would recommend – lovely pizza.

We returned to Crow Park to walk off dinner. A huge flock of Canada geese pecked and paddled around the water’s edge and the forested, perfectly round Derwent Isle sat neatly on the calm, glassy blue water. The lake was backed by the high green ridge of Cat Bells and the surrounding Derwent Fells rose and fell in hazy, sloping triangular layers. A short, circular walk took us along the lakefront, into a little wood where Bosun sneaked his way into the water, past a field of tall grass, which Bosun very clumsily chased me through, and back to the van via the sheep/goose field.

Dad drove us back to Thirlmere and we were once again amazed by the brightness of the night sky, which looked almost pale blue late into the evening. It was a lovely ending to a lovely day.