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!)

The Lake District--Days 1 and 2

27 December 2014

Several hours later than planned, car packed to the hilt and Aggy peering anxiously out of her travel crate, we pushed dog hair and plastic bottles aside and piled into our beat up Golf Estate.  I straddled a giant Tupperware full of leftover spaghetti and enjoyed a lower back massage, compliments of Millie, who is, it appears, physically unable to ride in a car without kicking the seat in front of her constantly (woe be to the unfortunate airline passenger who is seated in front of her on our next flight). We were off to the Lake District, a destination we had been meaning to visit since we moved to England. 

As luck would have it, the day after Boxing Day is one of the busiest travel days in the UK and there were major train service disruptions, so more cars on the road than there should have been. Result: our trip was considerably longer than it should have been.  Somehow, though, we still had a pleasant journey.  The girls were happily playing with their 'cameras' (which also are video games) and Jim and I enjoyed catching up on our stockpile of NPR podcasts. When traffic got unbearable, we detoured off of the M6 and  into the country, stopping for coffee, a walk with Aggy, and to play in the snow that started falling as we were driving along.  We didn't get to the Lake District until long after dark, but we managed to get there without having a fight, getting lost and, most unbelievably, without tantrums or meltdowns (and I'm not just talking about the kids).  It was a great start to what would turn out to be a really wonderful week.

28 December 2014

When we woke up the next morning, it was to the view of beautiful frost covered fields and bluish mountains off in the distance.  It was cold, but after fortifying ourselves with coffee and breakfast, we bundled up and crunched off on our first walk in the Lake District.  Aggy darted around, peering at sheep and sprinting through fields.  The girls delighted in crunching the ice that had formed over the puddles and a deer bounded off ahead of us. 

 After crunching along for a while and scrambling over some rocks, we reached our first obstacle. The puddles gave way to full blown, partially frozen marshland of indeterminate depth.  The girls, of course, thought the solution to this problem was to just walk right out onto the thin ice.  So did Aggy, who, while we tried to figure out how we were going to get across,  charged right onto the ice and then through it into the water below.  After we had pulled her back to safety (she was, it should be noted, completely unfazed by falling into freezing water), we noticed a ladder-like 'bridge' propped up against the fence.  Jim was wearing wellies, so he waded in and made us a somewhat unstable crossing, escorting each of the girls across like a true gentleman.

 We made it!  A little more trekking across the marshlands led us to a path along a muddy river and then over a bridge and into a wood full of moss-covered stones and narrow boardwalks. 

 When the girls started to flag, we let them be in charge of mapping our route, an age old distraction technique.  We also bribed them with food to keep them going.  Jim packed some of his irresistible Snickerdoodles, which proved to be great motivators.

 After we came out of the woods, Aggy almost abandoned us to go live with some people in their beautiful farmhouse with a spectacular view over the river below.  But, she too is easily persuaded by treats and we managed to get her to come back to the tune of a few dog biscuits.  We all could understand why she would want to live there!  It was really beautiful.

 Down a hill and beyond the house, more marshland needed crossing and it was over this narrow boardwalk that we had to walk. We made it across, unscathed and mostly dry but the inevitable whining had begun so we started back towards home.

 Millie is a nature lover and really has fun walking in the country. Evie, the athlete, is pure city girl and once she has decided she's had enough, she comes up with any excuse possible to try and convince her dad to carry her.  (He didn't.)

 After such a cold and beautiful walk, there was no choice but go to a local pub and warm up. 

 And then to the grocery store, which had this view above it:

(And a picture of Aggy Brown, just for cuteness sake.)

 And finally back to our cottage to relax and watch The Gruffalo and plot out our next day. 

Homesickness

I just looked at pictures of my family all together on our farm and felt unbelievably sad, despite having just spent a blissful two weeks with my own little family here in London and beyond.  There's something about home that is better than anyplace else, especially when it's full of people you love.

I suffer from conflicting emotions during times of stress and during holidays. On one hand, I still wake up in London and sometimes can't believe that I'm here. After growing up in Tallulah, Louisiana, moving to New Orleans was a big deal and here we are, thousands of miles away from home, all settled into a culture that isn't ours with two beautiful children who have somehow managed to embrace their English AND American roots.  I am staggered by the diversity, culture, excitement, and sheer hugeness of London. If I had the energy and the motivation, I could do something new every day here.  Just last week we discovered that if we drive fifteen minutes down the road we are in what is essentially the countryside...in London.  It was surreal (full blog on this experience to follow) and reminded me of how much we still don't know about this amazing and vast city that we live in.

But I still have a visceral longing to go home.  Not just to the the States (when we tend to refer to, in its entirety, as 'home'), but to my home, where I grew up and where my parents still live and where my whole family was together just a few days ago.  Home, where it smells like tilled earth all the time and where, in the winter old pecans crunch under your feet.  Home is where my children can climb on tractors and explore the dusty 'commissary' like I did when I was a kid.  Home, where a mothball scent penetrates everything and where, in the summer, the bullfrogs make an unholy ruckus in the bayou in front of our house. Home is where Dad smells like the lava soap he uses to get the grease off his hands and where Mom makes French bread in bulk in anticipation of us gorging ourselves when we get there.  At home, we can see for miles in every direction.  At home, we can take the pickup truck over the levy and show the girls the Mississippi River.  We can pick fresh tomatoes from Dad's garden or sweetcorn from the fields.  We can lie in the pecan groves at night and watch the stars and listen to coyotes in the distance and, if we go walking around in the evening or early morning, there is the real possibility of our getting hit in the face by a bat (of the flying variety).  We can trek out across the fields with dogs and children and maybe see a small alligator in a ditch or climb over the fence into the corral where a bunch of curious cows will look at us, chewing their cuds in boredom.  We might hear the unnerving gun shots of hunters in the distance (In Louisiana, it always seems to be hunting season). We might get chased by some dogs when we go running.  We'll wave in that relaxed way that country people wave when we pass each other on the road.  We'll dodge pot holes and wonder about the FEMA houses that are being used as hunting lodges.  Maybe we'll dissect some owl regurgitation and show our daughters the bones and teeth of mice inside.  Maybe we'll scoop some crawfish out of the pool.

They say 'home is where the heart is' and I tend to believe it.

Update: In response to a few comments from friends, I feel I should clarify that I do not want to move back home. I just think there will never be any other place that I feel so emotionally connected to.  Home is not all cypress tree beauty, Southern charm,  and pecan pie.  It's also hot and full of mosquitoes and poisonous snakes and out in the middle of nowhere. It's conservative and can be racist.  It's full of local culture but can be small minded. Poverty prevails. I left, but that doesn't mean I don't still love where I grew up, the rich experiences I had with my family there and the amazing people there who have always been part of my life. Plus, after Cleveland, it's my favorite place to spend Christmas!