Day Thirty

Tuesday 25 May - Grayrigg to Windermere.

This was a day of simple pleasures, and one which was not entirely simple. "Ooh! it's back to winter!" moaned the bus driver at Kendal. Oh no it wasn't. It was overcast and much cooler than the previous two days, but it wasn't wintry, it was dry, and it was a perfect temperature for a walk.

From Grayrigg, I soon rejoined the Dales Way, which I intended to follow almost to Windermere, with one diversion. This is rolling country between the Dales and the Lakes. Not always gently rolling - there were some sharp, if short, ups and downs. A rare bit of level walking took me past the front of a decent-looking mansion called Shaw End, haha and all. Paths and tiny lanes led to a crossing of the A6, luckily not too busy.

The Dales Way went up the front drive of Burton House, and then through its back yard. "Tea Stop", said a sign. "What?" said I. "Billy's Tea Stop in here", said another sign. "In here" was a shed, and inside the plot thickened. The place was festooned with notices, all nice ones, but there were no people. I was invited, in print, to make myself a hot drink or a cold drink, have a biscuit or a flapjack or an ice cream, and make myself at home.

Billy (7) and Stevie (4) are brother and sister, and have a menagerie of animals stumping around the yard and the adjacent pens - goats, chickens, ducks, Gloucester Old Spots... sorry to those I've left out. There was also a posse of soft-toy animals to keep me company as I drank my coffee and munched custard creams. The idea is that the contributions made by happy drinkers and eaters should go towards keeping the animals (the living ones, not the stuffed ones) in their own meat and drink. As well as a fridge for milk, there was another one for the pop and ice cream. It's not clear whether Billy or Stevie (presumably in school while I was visiting) rush home to knock off a few more bottles of the damson gin which is also on offer - I rather think an adult may have helped with this, as well as with some of the notices (sorry if it was all your own work, Billy and Stevie). It's a fantastic idea, and I sincerely hope that Billy, Stevie and all the animals thrive.

Soon after this wonderful interlude, I skirted Burneside. Burneside Hall is a farmhouse attached to the ruins of a 14th Century pele tower. I then walked upstream alongside the River Kent, another South-flowing river which empties into Morecambe Bay. This riverside walk was a highly enjoyable hour, perhaps not as magical as the one alongside the Lune yesterday, but with a similar mix of water meadows and gorge-side squeezes.

At Staveley I diverted to the village for a lunch stop. In the grounds of the former Margaret Chapel - only the tower remains - I sat by a freshly-dug grave and munched a sandwich and a banana. When the bell started to toll, I thought it best to leave, lest I encounter a coffin party. A chap who was checking the grave assured me that the funeral was taking place in the parish church some way away, so there was no rush. But I trotted off anyway, re-joining the Dales Way for another delightful hour or so.

Between Staveley and Windermere the route lay across what was now distinctly Lakeland countryside, a mix of gentle and the occasional steep climb or fall on grassy paths with sheep and cattle for company. Having left the Dales Way for its final descent to the lakeside at Bowness, I intended to keep to field paths almost into Windermere, but the curse of suburbia fell upon me. The twists and turns of the roads in a dreary housing estate (which had swallowed up the paths) threw me off course, and I ended up walking through a succession of dull streets to reach the town centre, an anti-climactic end to a good day's walking. But I knew what would cheer me up - a visit to the Lakeland mega kitchen equipment shop, not for a whisk or some doilies, but for coffee and something in their deservedly-popular caff.