JBax's Lake District Recap

Having comfortably situated ourselves in Edinburgh, the land where market capitalism acquired its ideological hue, Adrian and Juan are striving to contain their bladders in anticipation of the World Cup (which starts today), while I struggle to hold as many soccer facts in my head as possible so I can amuse them by pretending that I am a seasoned fanatic. Meanwhile, we are all eager to begin in earnest our exploration of Edinburgh.

Before recounting our adventures in Scotland, I thought it necessary to sum up the Lake District leg of Adrian and my journey.

Adrian and I met up in Windermere, a gateway city to the Lake District on June 10. The night before leaving Galway, where I spent two days on my own, Adrian sent me instructions to get to the hostel in Windermere, which informed me that I would be making a three mile trek to reach the hostel. After climbing a rather steep incline, I reached the Windermere hostel sweaty, but excited to meet up with Adrian. We proceeded to ask one of the two employees of the hostel for a recommendation for a good pub, encountering a major theme for our time in the UK: the British hate being asked for recommendations. It's a totally foreign concept. The usual response for a recommendation is to be presented with a long list of options that one could do. To receive a direct response to the question, one has to ask an Brit what their favorite bar is or what food they would eat in order to get a straightforward response. Ill-prepared to navigate this British recommendation rite, we selected one pub from the hostel employee's list, and headed out on a 1.5 hour walk to the pub. We each ordered the "leg" of lamb, figuring we couldn't go wrong, despite the British reputation for bad food; we guessed wrong. The "leg" was thin slabs of meat with a mint "jelly" that was more like a gravy. We also discovered the second major theme of the Lake District Segment: British beers are weak. Whereas a typical IPA in the U.S. may have an ABV of 8%, the British cask ales, which are superb when bottled and sold in the U.S., had an ABV in Britain of 3.9% or 4%. As Adrian put it, "Where is the rest of my beer?"

So, Windermere offered an inauspicious introduction to the Lake District. But our travels in Ambleside and Keswick made the whole segment worthwhile. To get to Ambleside, Adrian and I decided to hike across a ridge to the north of Windermere, eastward to Ambleside. Hiking in the Lake District is unlike any other hiking because the public footpaths go through pastures with grazing sheep, lambs, and cattle. One must enter and exit "kissing gates" that swing in between wooden posts, making it impossible for animals to mistakenly escape. This feature of the hikes, as Adrian described it, seemed, "like a petting zoo, but even better." Constant rain that dogged us the entire four days in the Lake District picked up in earnest during our hike, forcing us to reevaluate the degree to which we had wrapped our belongings in plastic bags. As we reached the top of the ridge, we were rewarded with stunning views, even on a foggy, overcast day, of the banks of Lake Windermere in the distance, which the somber, yet stately, grey and black pointed roofs of Ambleside stretched out before us as the land descended to the banks of the lake. Adrian and I were both heartened to arrive in Ambleside and find it a veritable metropolis compared to the sleepy drudgery of Windermere. There were pubs aplenty, including one we were eager to sample--the Golden Rule--a cozy establishment with cast iron stools, a tiny bar, and only English patrons (aside from us). Despite our continuing disenchantment with the beer situation, our spirits picked up by enjoying a venue that looked much the same, we imagine, as it did a couple hundred years ago.

Keswick was even more metropolitan than Ambleside, with a pedestrian town center and bustling activity--at least until nightfall. The hostel, we found, was located conveniently close to the heart of town, unlike our other two experiences, and was clean and beautifully positioned on the bank of a river running through the town. We decided to extend our stay in Keswick for a second day. This gave us the opportunity to do our most serious hike--a climb to the top of Catbells, a 1400 ft. peak with stunning views of Derwentwater Lake and of pastures as far as the eye could see, with thousands of fluffy white and black dots punctuating the otherwise lushly green landscape. We also frequented the Dog and the Gun, another classic English pub, which got especially busy around 7:30 because of its excellent food, even by non-English standards. Adrian and I were so enamoured of the institution's famous Hungarian goulash that we ordered it both nights while in town. The goulash was really a very hearty chili with steak chunks rather than ground chuck, made "Hungarian" only by the generous amount of paprika included in the dish. We were hungry, so we forgave its questionable Hungarianness and devoured the large and tasty dish with startling speed. To top off the Dog and the Gun experience, I had a single shot--straight up of course--of Talisker's single malt whisky, an incredibly flavorful and sweet scotch.

The Lake District was a great component of the trip. We stayed there for just enough time and were ready by the end to get to Edinburgh and enjoy city life again.