A Voyage to Houyhnhnm-dermere
Guillaume's Travel Journal - October 21, 2006
I got up (relatively) early this morning so that I could catch the first train to Windermere. The 8:30 bus to the Lancaster train station was marked by the usual saturday "habit": a meeting with Michel.
Michel is an exchange student from France. Michel and I have the uncommon knack of accidently bumping into each other, but only on saturdays. I met Michel the first saturday I arrived in England while waiting at the airport. The next saturday, we coincidentally partook in the same Lancaster town tour. Last saturday, I had just sat down at bottom Wetherspoon's in the late afternoon when in he walked with his girlfriend. We chatted for a while, joked that we'd see each other 'next saturday' and went our separate ways.
Imagine each other's stupor when we bump into each other in the bus to the train station. He, however, was headed to southeast to Manchester, whereas I was due North to Windermere's lake district.
Funny how the things you joke about end up happening.
The train ride to Windermere was rather uneventful despite it being the first time I've taken a train. I really didn't expect it to be much more than another place where you sit down and wait in your seat to arrive at your destination, occasionally looking out the window or reading a book to break the monotony of it all. I was right.
When I got to Windermere after the 35 minute ride, not knowing where I was in relation to the lake (England's biggest, and it really isn't that huge to begin with. I think Lesser Slave Lake has it beat), I decided to take it easy and grab some breakfast at the nearby Booth's cafe. as I came out and started walking away from the train station (there was really only one option), the local tourism office appeared on the corner just ahead, so I popped in to check a few maps. My Rough Guide to Britain unfortunately had not included one on the local scale that I required. This task accomplished, I started walking downhill towards the lake, about 2 kilometres down the road.
I walked all over the place, down to the piers, over to the ferry, through all parts of town, snapping a bunch of pictures as I went along. The rain didn't really take long to catch up to me, and for the better part of two hours I slowly absorbed more and more qualities of a spunge. I did bring my rain jacket, knowing the forecast was calling for light rain, but then the water just trickled down and soaked my pants (err, trousers). I didn't really mind though until a some time later when I sat down for some lunch at Churchill's pub. As a graduate of Winston Churchill High School, I really could not have gone anywhere else, with this eternal "Churchill Pride" that seemingly never lets go...
Following lunch, a succulently fresh Fish and Chips order, I followed a sidestreet over to the Wonderful Wolrd of Beatrix Potter exhibition. Though admission was a bit steep for a half hour's worth of galleries, I'm glad I went nonetheless, as the paintings, sculpture and dolls were truly first class, from an artistic point of view. I did snap a few pictures.
Afterwards, I went back to the quay to catch a ferry to Ambleside, on the North shore of the lake (Windermere/Bowness are on the east shore of a lake that basically draws out vertically like Lake Champlain, for example). While I don't regret going to Ambleside, I think I would have been more entertained by Lakeside's aquarium (south shore) than Ambleside's Home of Football. The House was a museum documenting various moments in the sport, most of which I was unfamiliar with; they claim to possess a collection of 60 000 photos. I found myself enjoying the pictures for their artistic composition more than their relation to football. I later went by a piano bar in the downtown core, but nobody was playing the piano at the time, so I moved on without sipping tea and some biscuits.
Later, I basically walked back to Windermere, if only to prove to myself that I could walk a few miles with a heavy backpack. From central Ambleside to central Windermere must have been a good four mile uphill hike. It wouldn't have been so bad if the rain hadn't started again at about the halfway point. Shortly after 6pm, wet, tired and cold, I arrived back at the train station a few minutes before the next train back to Lancaster was due, and, satisfied with my day, I decided I had seen enough of the lake district and set off to go back home.
I got up (relatively) early this morning so that I could catch the first train to Windermere. The 8:30 bus to the Lancaster train station was marked by the usual saturday "habit": a meeting with Michel.
Michel is an exchange student from France. Michel and I have the uncommon knack of accidently bumping into each other, but only on saturdays. I met Michel the first saturday I arrived in England while waiting at the airport. The next saturday, we coincidentally partook in the same Lancaster town tour. Last saturday, I had just sat down at bottom Wetherspoon's in the late afternoon when in he walked with his girlfriend. We chatted for a while, joked that we'd see each other 'next saturday' and went our separate ways.
Imagine each other's stupor when we bump into each other in the bus to the train station. He, however, was headed to southeast to Manchester, whereas I was due North to Windermere's lake district.
Funny how the things you joke about end up happening.
The train ride to Windermere was rather uneventful despite it being the first time I've taken a train. I really didn't expect it to be much more than another place where you sit down and wait in your seat to arrive at your destination, occasionally looking out the window or reading a book to break the monotony of it all. I was right.
When I got to Windermere after the 35 minute ride, not knowing where I was in relation to the lake (England's biggest, and it really isn't that huge to begin with. I think Lesser Slave Lake has it beat), I decided to take it easy and grab some breakfast at the nearby Booth's cafe. as I came out and started walking away from the train station (there was really only one option), the local tourism office appeared on the corner just ahead, so I popped in to check a few maps. My Rough Guide to Britain unfortunately had not included one on the local scale that I required. This task accomplished, I started walking downhill towards the lake, about 2 kilometres down the road.
I walked all over the place, down to the piers, over to the ferry, through all parts of town, snapping a bunch of pictures as I went along. The rain didn't really take long to catch up to me, and for the better part of two hours I slowly absorbed more and more qualities of a spunge. I did bring my rain jacket, knowing the forecast was calling for light rain, but then the water just trickled down and soaked my pants (err, trousers). I didn't really mind though until a some time later when I sat down for some lunch at Churchill's pub. As a graduate of Winston Churchill High School, I really could not have gone anywhere else, with this eternal "Churchill Pride" that seemingly never lets go...
Following lunch, a succulently fresh Fish and Chips order, I followed a sidestreet over to the Wonderful Wolrd of Beatrix Potter exhibition. Though admission was a bit steep for a half hour's worth of galleries, I'm glad I went nonetheless, as the paintings, sculpture and dolls were truly first class, from an artistic point of view. I did snap a few pictures.
Afterwards, I went back to the quay to catch a ferry to Ambleside, on the North shore of the lake (Windermere/Bowness are on the east shore of a lake that basically draws out vertically like Lake Champlain, for example). While I don't regret going to Ambleside, I think I would have been more entertained by Lakeside's aquarium (south shore) than Ambleside's Home of Football. The House was a museum documenting various moments in the sport, most of which I was unfamiliar with; they claim to possess a collection of 60 000 photos. I found myself enjoying the pictures for their artistic composition more than their relation to football. I later went by a piano bar in the downtown core, but nobody was playing the piano at the time, so I moved on without sipping tea and some biscuits.
Later, I basically walked back to Windermere, if only to prove to myself that I could walk a few miles with a heavy backpack. From central Ambleside to central Windermere must have been a good four mile uphill hike. It wouldn't have been so bad if the rain hadn't started again at about the halfway point. Shortly after 6pm, wet, tired and cold, I arrived back at the train station a few minutes before the next train back to Lancaster was due, and, satisfied with my day, I decided I had seen enough of the lake district and set off to go back home.
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14:04
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