Grizedale Forest

30 December 2014

On our fourth day in the Lake District, we all slept in--Millie until 10:00!  So after a leisurely start, we drove to Grizedale Forest.

 En route, we took some back roads past Downtown Abbey style estates and picturesque fields with ponies and sheep who just looked like they were waiting for us to drive by and take advantage of a perfect photo opp. 

Grizedale Forest is beautiful and full of walking and mountain biking trails.  As we drove up, there seemed to be hoards of people, but once we got started on our walk we found ourselves almost alone for most of it.

One of the fun things about the Forest is that there are amazing sculptures and interactive art throughout.  The girls enjoyed turning these tree keys as we walked along.  They each made a different tone.

Tiny houses are always a source of great entertainment. 

Millie has entered the phase of life during which she wants to do everything that Evie does, despite not quite being able to physically keep up.  Scrambling along muddy ledges led to more than one fall, but fortunately only resulted in lots of muddy clothes and no injuries (and, surprisingly, no tears).

 

 As we walked off the paved path and into the woods, other people were few and far between.  We went up and up, stopping to take in the view from scenic bridges and to catch our breath on mossy rocks.

The girls attempted to carry a large branch with them for the entire walk, but were thwarted.

 

And slippery steps led to a particularly quiet and secluded part of the trail, with tall fir trees and a carpet of mossy undergrowth.  The girls decided to go on a fairy hunt so through the woods we all went in search of fairy village and fairy mountains.  The girls gathered materials to make their own fairy houses at the top of the trail.

We crossed creek beds and scrambled over rocks. The higher we went, the more barren the landscape.

At the top, we spent some time at the only natural lake in the forest, which was o full that it almost submerged its own viewing deck.  Aggy refreshed herself by eating chunks of pond ice, before wallowing in the mud on its edge.

On the way down, with Millie acting as navigator and Evie as health and advisor, we posed next to a wooden sculpture of a giant fern....

and on the back of a stone fox.

We followed a wide road, where we met other families, dog walkers and cyclists. 

And then we descended back into the woods and followed a narrow trail, stopping for a cold, damp rest on a slope.

Some of us started thinking that the guy with the map didn't know what he was talking about.  But he did.

The Lake District has amazing stiles which are MUCH easier to get over than your standard stile.  We traipsed up and over this style (but had to hoist Aggy over the last part because her legs proved to be just a little too short).

We're not sure what this sculpture was supposed to be, but it was fun to walk on.

And finally we made it back to our starting point. After all that, we had no other option, but to go to a pub. It had a warm wood stove where we roasted our bums and lots of adoring Aggy fans who scratched her tummy.  The Winter Pimms was a disappointment, though.  Not as good as Jim's Winter Pimm's Punch by a long shot.

Later on, we all slept well (and where we weren't supposed to).

We had a couple of more days in the Lake District, but for some reason didn't take any pictures.  On our final day--New Year's Day-- we went walking in a downpour and then went to the Lake District aquarium, where they had box turtles (a pest over here, it turns out, but still nice to see something from home when we're so far away).  Soaked and shivering, but feeling accomplished after our windy, rainy walk, we went home to eat our black eyed peas, watch movies and mentally prepared ourselves for a return to London and reality. It was a great end to what turned out to be a really eventful and very good year.

On getting back to reality

I’m taking a break from writing about the peaceful, beautiful time we had in the Lake District to reflect on my first day back to the grind.  The feeling of ‘back to reality’ is one that many people can relate to on this, the first Monday of the new year, and I’m somewhat comforted by the thought that probably most of my friends have had similar experiences to mine today.

Last night, at 12:06 am, after trying and failing to sleep, I abandoned my bed and went upstairs to sleep with the girls on a futon in their room.  There I tossed and turned and tried to block out the lights that they insist on having on throughout the night. I considered turning out the lights, but that would inevitably have resulted in one or the other of them waking up, scared, crying. So I curled up in a ball with a pillow over my head and had bad dreams about altercations with my neighbors (something to do with a Mardi Gras party that I didn’t invite them to).

Of course I overslept and our day started off in chaos as usual.  School shoes had to be found and gloves were lost.  A brief altercation over trousers or dresses ensued. Bowls of cereal tumbled off the counter and onto the girls’ clothes, so up they went to change again.  The cat and dog paced and panted, wanting to be fed, needing to be let out, needing to be let back in again.  The coffee was weak and ten minutes before we were supposed to leave, I was still standing around in my purple bathrobe and with my hair sticking straight up. So much for resolutions.

Before Christmas, and for various reasons that I won’t get into, I rashly decided to reduce Millie’s nursery days from four full days a week to only two full days a week.  At the time, it seemed like a good idea.  My little girl wasn’t happy so I was going to make things better by letting her stay home and be with me until something better came along!  We live in North London and I know better than to think that a nursery place in the school of my choice is going to spontaneously appear when I need it to...but that's kind of what I thought would happen.  And, surprise!  It hasn't.  Now, after our first day of togetherness, I’m wondering if I didn’t act too quickly.  We had a very nice day, but with a four year old at home there is no time to think about anything but said four year old (and the dog that could, potentially, pee on the floor at any moment).  We walked the dog in the woods then visited some friends, went to the library, and ran a couple of errands. That got us to about noon, at which point we went home and toodled around for a little while before I dumped her on the neighbors and headed for the hills.

Not only am I readjusting myself to full time motherhood with the children actually at home, but I also don’t have the cushiness of after school clubs to fall back on until next week.  So both girls were home and bouncing off the walls by 3:30 this afternoon.  For a while, I just ignored them, focused on defeating the mountain of laundry that seems to be procreating in the hampers around this house, but eventually I lost my proverbial shit and the bouncing off the walls ground to a halt.  

Dinner was scrambled eggs. Now that Jim is back at work, all fine dining has gone out the window.  The dog, after managing to eat half of one child’s eggs, peed on the floor.  I chased her out the back door while holding a basket of dirty laundry.  As I spooned my eggs onto my own plate, the doorbell rang and on my way back in from collecting the package, my downstairs neighbor decided to be friendly and I was caught talking for ten minutes.  The cat ate the other child’s dinner.  My eggs were cold.  

I’ve become really apathetic about baths so, in the interest in getting to bedtime, we just skipped that part of the evening.  I pinned the girls down and scrubbed off the blue eye shadow that they had applied while I wasn’t looking, all the while admonishing them through gritted teeth (‘Don't complain! This is what happens when you put makeup on during the SCHOOL WEEK!’  etc.) I brushed their teeth and settled them down on the couch for phonics and reading.

Halfway into the phonics the first one needed the toilet.  ‘I have diarrhea!!!’ she announced from across the house.  ‘I saw some carrots come out!  Or maybe it was crust.’ Then, ‘I need a wipe!!!!’  

As soon as that one was wiped and ready to go, the other one called from upstairs, ‘I have diarrhea too!!!!  I need a WIPE MAMA!!! I NEED A WIPE!!!!’

Sometimes you just have to admit defeat.  Plus, I’ve been reading stupid inspirational things again and one of them suggested that to have a happy and healthy home, I should address messes as I see them, rather than letting things build up.  Obviously the person who wrote that suggestion doesn’t live with my family.  Or maybe she lives in the States in a huge house and has a full time maid so she can zen out and do yoga in her spotless house that has lots of storage space and no clutter.

And so, with the girls tucked into their beds and quietly talking to each other upstairs and the plan to ‘address messes as I see them’ resonating in the back of my brain, I stare at the piles of laundry that I don’t feel like dealing with, the dishes that never end and the clutter strewn about my living room…and all I can say is ‘fuck it.’ I'm off to read my book and eat some ice cream. Tomorrow is another day.

The Lake District--A Beatrix Potter Walk

29 December 2014

The night before our second walk was the coldest night of the year here in England. And on the morning of our second walk our car was frozen solid.  We couldn't get the doors to unlock and one of the back doors got so cold that it no longer opens from the outside, even after defrosting. So that's convenient.

Anyway, it was COLD and we took a while to get moving, but eventually we got out of the house and defrosted the car.  The girls refused to wear coats and waterproofs (fashion over practicality) so with me muttering disapprovingly in the background about how cold they were going to be, we headed out to find a Beatrix Potter walk. The famous Peter Rabbit author was from a town called Near Sawrey (Not to be mispronounced in terrible American accents as 'Sorry' but pronounced, as a helpful British walker let us know, 'Saaawww-ree.')  And that town was just about half an hour of twisty, car sickness inducing roads along Lake Windermere away from where we were staying.
 
With two children about to vomit in the backseat, it was almost lucky that we were forced to stop for a good twenty minutes while a large lorry blocked the entire, narrow road.  It was unloading construction materials at a snail's pace, but was, at the same time, kind of interesting to watch.  And anyway, we were a captive audience, trapped between the lorry and backed up traffic behind us.

Somehow, despite all the challenges and a collective family grumpiness, we mad it to Sawrey.  After a few false starts that involved wandering around back roads and cow pastures, we finally got our bearings and began a walk through icy lanes.  We didn't see Jemimah Puddleduck or Peter Rabbit, but we saw lots of bubbling creeks, rickety bridges, beautiful lakes, wind worn rocks, and what would be brambly gardens and lettuce patches if it were summer time.  It was clear where Beatrix Potter got her inspiration!  The girls were delighted by the iced over puddles and spent a lot of time collecting chunks of ice and trying not to get themselves soaked (no waterproofs!).  Jim was enchanted by the scenery and Aggy ran around at high speed, up the paths and over the rocks, impressing everyone with her unbeagle-like tendency to stay with us off the leash.  Her predecessor, Buster Brown, would have headed for the hills and never come back. 








We followed a group of older walkers (a fact which Evie pointed out very loudly) up the hill to a small lake where Potter and her husband sat every evening.

Something else we learned about Beatrix Potter is that her home--Hill Top--is a major tourist destination for the Japanese.  Some of the signs to the major points of interest were subtitled in Japanese and, in Tokyo, they have built a replica of Beatrix Potter's house. We saw a small group of Japanese young people, but mostly we were surrounded by pure English.




After our pit stop on the rocks around the little lake, we headed down and turned off onto a road leading back to the village.  There, we encountered some cows (Evie was horrified by the smell), we met a horse (but Millie fell into a hole before we got to it), and we nearly got run over by a friendly farmer who waved cheerfully, but didn't slow down.  We made it to a pub just in time to get some food before they closed the kitchen and, after warming up a little bit, we trooped back out into the frost to walk up the road to our car.  We were surprised and pleased to find that there was a quaint little footpath made just for walkers who were leaving the Beatrix Potter house and heading back to their cars (we didn't actually visit her house, but it was conveniently located next to the pub where we ate).  It was along this path that we watched the skilled an amazingly synchronized movement of of sheep from one pasture to another (via sheepdog) and we also discovered that, for Aggy, sheep poop is a delicacy on which to feast.  It also gives her really bad gas. 

Due to various distractions, I'm really struggling to write this blog, so I'll leave you with this...and enjoy Jim's beautiful pictures! (and please note that eventually the girls put their waterproofs on. Mother knows best!)