Outdoors – runningin3time

Lockdown 10; furballed 7: travel dreams

June 1, 2020June 1, 2020sarahjlewisbriggs1 Comment

A few days ago I was told by work that I’d be returning on 8th June. By then I will have been furloughed for 8 weeks, and I must admit that I’m rather relieved that there will again be some structure and purpose to my day. Today – Monday 1st June – I have been feeling particularly bored with the ongoing situation and whilst I don’t want things to go back exactly to how they were before – although all the signs are that they will, with people already queuing for IKEA as if there was a shortage of furniture and cheap crockery, far more traffic on the roads, and vapour trails in the skies – I’m looking forward to having something to think about and tasks to do.

There will be less time to read, but reading travel books and watching travel programmes on the television is something of a double-edged sword. It’s great to see places and start dreaming about when and how to get there: but sometimes reality hits and you realise that not only is coronavirus stopping travel but also with the debt of my skiing holiday still to pay off, it’s going to be some time before I can afford another holiday anyway!

So whilst I’ve been looking up ways to get to Finland by train, which route I’d take to get there and which to get back, I haven’t actually planned it in much detail. It’s a pipedream as yet and I look at the Railway Map of Europe longingly and wistfully; and dream also of all the other places I’d like to go, such as the ‘stans’. The map below shows how it’s quite possible to get from mainland Europe (and hence, via the channel tunnel, the UK) to Finland and places further east. Also on my bucket list are Tromso in Norway, Copenhagen in Denmark, and Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia (having watched Michael Portillo’s railway journeys). In fact I’d just like to explore more of Scandinavia, let alone the Baltic states; and getting to places like Baku, Tashkent and Samarkand needs plenty of time (and is therefore probably a retirement project).

I’m now reading a book about those great travellers/explorers, the Vikings, having finished Around the World in 80 Trains and also The Beekeeper of Aleppo. I warmly recommend both books for totally different reasons. The latter serves to remind us of the plight and trauma of refugees throughout the world and of the destruction of beautiful and historic places by war. The former had many comments which seemed relevant to our current status of isolation and of a slower life, but one where – at its best – communities seem(ed) to be pulling together.

One of the words which the author learned as she travelled was the Dutch word gezellig, which apparently means “no boundaries and everyone is sharing and getting along with everyone else”. It reminded me of those other terms which are also not easily translated into English, and which also have a feel good factor to them: the Swedish words fika and lagom and the Danish hygge.

A couple of other quotations from the book which I wanted to highlight were:

“For the first time in months, reading had become meditation again, almost medicinal in its healing. With a last look at the jacket, I left the book on the table for someone else to enjoy.” This is something I do with my books – unless I feel that I’d read them again and again. I leave them on trains for other people to enjoy. And reading is definitely meditation, if not, at least at times, escapism.

“Being on the road frees you from the burden of the everyday… yet I often had moments on my travels when I was overwhelmed by loneliness, and sank into troughs of depression deeper than those I had at home.” This reminds me of when I worked abroad, firstly in France and then in Norway. For the majority of the time I had a fantastic experience and enjoyed myself hugely: but when I got low I got very low, and far more so than I would at home. It’s perhaps because if you’re alone abroad it can be far more difficult to get out of that pit than when you’re at home and surrounded by friends and family.

Selfishness?

One of the things about lockdown however has been that friends and family are not always there. The sense of community increased initially: people looked out for their neighbours, shopped locally, bought local, and didn’t move (on the whole) far beyond their local area. However there was also from the beginning a strong sense of protectiveness, which potentially meant that rather than acting as part of a community, people only protected their own and stayed inside well away from anyone else (I wonder if they would have been quite so moralistic about it if there was no internet, telephone, etc. etc., and if they hadn’t so easily been able to communicate with people?).

I have really struggled with the idea of complete self-isolation: of being a hermit. At its most extreme, as at least one person seemed to suggest, it would have meant not seeing the kids and being on my own in my house and garden: and post-furlough with no work to keep my mind occupied either. I’ve mentioned in earlier blogposts that being able to get out on my bike or for runs (or even walks) has lifted my mood at times: I’ve at times got quite annoyed about how certain judgmental people who are in houses with their own families don’t seem to stop and think what it’s like for people on their own (and in fact the people who are most vociferous about self-isolation are rarely practicing it completely themselves, but are still going to the shops, for example).

The other morning a friend very honestly said that she’s having a rather ‘self-defensive, protective, selfish’ life at the moment, making sure her family are OK, and that she’s scared stiff of getting coronavirus. I respected and liked her for saying it, and it made me feel a lot better, because I had been thinking that I was the one being selfish because I find the isolation and restrictions of being at home and on my own a lot very hard at times, and I feel criticised for going out at all.

I guess at the end of the day we’re all dealing with this in our own way and a certain amount of tolerance and understanding wouldn’t go amiss. I am quite happy limiting the number of times I go to the shops, and I don’t miss ‘going shopping’ in terms of visiting High Streets. But cut me off from the Fells and woods, lakes and rivers and I would be utterly miserable.

That’s not to say I’m jumping into my car to visit Lake District hotspots – I wouldn’t dream of walking up Cat Bells at the moment, and the sides of Ullswater as I drove past on a sunny Sunday were like any normal (non-viral) summer holiday. But the joy from being able to go for a walk in one of the less well-known areas and to swim in several of the lakes was a real treat at the weekend: and whilst parking areas were busy, if you avoid the ‘honeypots’ then it is easy to socially distance.

It annoys me when people leave litter, park and/or drive inconsiderately, and don’t bother to think about where they could go which might not be so crowded: but on the other hand I also think there is an element of nimby-ism to the so-called locals who complain so bitterly about visitors to this beautiful county that we’re lucky enough to live in. We are privileged to live here and not in a densely populated city but if people want to enjoy the beauty then they should also respect it.

It feels as if the end of furlough and the gradual relaxation of lockdown may signal the end not only of this series of posts, but also of this blog: I need to think of a theme for the next one as it feels as if I’m writing about similar things now. Next week I will try to sum up the change in the emotions from the beginning of lockdown to the end of furlough. Meanwhile… stay safe.

Lockdown 8/Furlough 5

May 18, 2020sarahjlewisbriggs2 Comments

At the beginning of this week I’m still struggling with sadness, and waking up in the morning feeling purposeless. My biggest worry is not in fact coronavirus but the future of the planet – we have an incredible opportunity to make something better of our world at the moment (and to pull together more than ever), but instead some people are becoming more isolation-ist, on all sorts of levels, and I’m not sure that the improvements to the environment will continue. On a global level it is, as usual, the really poor who will suffer – the refugees and the crowded shanty towns – and I just don’t know what to do about them.

Making cake sounds superficial in comparison, but allowing my creative baker some rein – now I have flour, yeast, etc. – makes me feel that at least I’m doing something that’s a very small treat for people. It’s nothing in the overall scheme of things but for me there’s something therapeutic about cooking (funnily enough I have just been asked to quote for catering for a hen party in August – I wonder if it will actually happen…).

Swedish apple and cinnamon cake for Alan and Gill

‘On order’ are Rum Babas (bouchon) for Clare and Colin, a chive and cheese loaf for Clare’s Dad, and another St Clement’s drizzle cake.

I also got out on my bike today. After 3 days of not doing any exercise and not spending long in the open air, it confirmed my belief (and the scientific research) that one of the best things for people is to be outside and exercising. What with the bike ride and then delivering the cake to Jo and Jerry, my mood has been quite restored.

Saturday 16th May

Sometimes I just need to speak to people, and to stop analysing and worrying about whether or not I’m a good mother. Kids can be rotten: and whilst mine don’t seem anxious at all at the moment, they are out of their usual routine and (like me; like us all) not able to see their friends and family. Not only have I been outside exercising, but I’ve also had a socially-distanced walk with my lovely friend and neighbour Laura today, and that was also uplifting. We came across an enormous bank of wild garlic – unfortunately I didn’t have a bag to collect any but I think there will be lots in Gelt Woods for a week or so yet.

I’m going to write elsewhere about yesterday’s 8-mile (13km) sight-seeing run along Hadrian’s Wall but in the meantime the Rum Babas/bouchon are soaking in rum syrup and the cheese and chive bread rolls have been delivered (after I’d tested one just to make sure they were OK). I now have more orders for another St Clement’s Drizzle cake, and am going to make Drunken Raisin ice cream and oatcakes for a friend. Very satisfying.

Pub quizzes and chats

You know how it is when you chat to people: you realise that actually you’re not alone in your thoughts and there are plenty of other people out there thinking along similar lines.

Chatting to my friend Kath on Thursday evening she said “I don’t want to go back to how we were before: I don’t need shops and all this overwhelming stuff”. It reminded me of walking through a store in Bristol around Christmas one year in my pre-children adulthood and feeling swamped by Stuff; it reminds me of shopping in Oxford St. and not being able to find what I wanted because there was too much choice. And, like Kath, I haven’t missed shops: my type of shopping tends to be when I have a specific list and I zip around trying to find exactly what I want before then dashing away again. I don’t particularly enjoy window shopping, and although I like to be able to see some clothes and books in a shop rather than online – and shoes need to be tried on – I do order things online and I enjoy waiting for the postman to arrive.

Having had a chat with Kath I then tried out an online pub quiz in aid of Alzheimer’s Research. I felt quite emotional as the amount being raised went up and up, matched by thousands by a wealth management company; but I also felt sad that charities such as Alzheimer’s (and Cumbria Mountain Rescue, which I have just donated to as well) are having to furlough staff and are struggling financially. It made me think that charities which deal with human life and death are perhaps far more important to society than those which are heritage-based. Don’t get me wrong: I’m proud to work for English Heritage and I absolutely adore (most) old buildings, and love the stories they tell – but at the end of the day, whilst our heritage is important (and an integral part of who we are), struggling human life is more important. On the other hand I also feel that the National Trust and similar ‘landscape’ charities are important from an environmental point of view.

I’ve struggled this week, in my glass-half-empty-this-week mindset, to see how on earth humans will ever change or make the world a better place. We need more kindness, more calmness; less greed and less speed and pressure; but as soon as lockdown was even slightly lifted we were all back in our cars and there was footage of people commuting to work as if life hadn’t changed in the slightest. Easy for me to be critical from rural Cumbria, however.

I will know by Friday 22nd whether I’m being furloughed for longer – potentially until October. Meanwhile a bunch of us from work, all furloughed, met up over Zoom: we’re feeling guilty that we’re being paid to have a lazy time but also finding it hard not to be involved in making things happen and in decision-making.

Whatever happens, I’ve decided I really need to get my ‘glass-half-full’ head back on and enjoy myself. If I’m furloughed for even longer I’ll definitely be ready to do a triathlon to celebrate my 60th birthday – if not before.

My Lockdown Diary – week 2

April 6, 2020sarahjlewisbriggs3 Comments

The working week

Week 2 didn’t start well. I went to do my washing up and found the sink was full of dirty water which hadn’t drained from the night before. Even prodding around with a brush and a knife didn’t help… I undid some of the pipes, dirty water splashing into and around the bowl I put under the connections, and trying to work out where the blockage was. I went down to the hardware store (still open) and got some nasty chemicals – a big bottle of Mr Muscle – and stuck half down the plughole and half down the plughole in the shower upstairs, which had also been running slow.

That didn’t work in the kitchen sink and despite the fact that I was also trying to work, I spent my lunch hour sending desperate messages and receiving helpful hints via various whatsapp groups about what I could do. In the end I gave up, leaving a pool of disgusting water in the sink, and decided I’d go away and leave it until the end of the working day. I guess it’s a bit like turning the computer off and walking away from it, when that’s not behaving.

Sure enough when I went back after work the sink had, miraculously, cleared. I was a bit doubtful about whether this was a lasting ‘fix’ but I’m pleased to say that two days later it’s still running free. I should also add that I am EXTREMELY careful not to put loads of nasty stuff down the sink nor into the dishwasher – years ago when I worked at Railtrack we had a catering business tenant who didn’t have grease traps in his drains. He almost undermined a whole railway embankment at Finchley Road, and next door’s toilet was backing up due to his blocked drains. Yuck. That was the first time I served a s.146 notice on a tenant.

I’ve been doing my morning yoga regularly and really enjoying it. About 20 minutes is the perfect amount for me, and it sets me up ready to work. On Tuesday I missed going for a run as I didn’t have time – although my singing lesson also got cancelled as my teacher’s boiler had split (it was obviously one of Those Days). And the CPD webinar I joined was booooorrrringggg…

That’s the great thing at the moment though – there is loads of free stuff online, far more than usual. On Wednesday I joined a webinar about co-working. Nothing terribly mind-blowing but a good webinar (and an hour’s CPD), and it made me wonder again what will happen when this is all over. I actually think this is the final death-knell to our high streets as people will have got used to shopping online and to home deliveries: unless everybody goes mad when we’re finally released and hits the high street with all the cash they’ve saved from not going out (?). Have you? Are you saving much money being at home? I am, but the temptation is to go mad online.

The frenzy of whatsapp seems to have died down – I wonder if, one week in, people are becoming a little more relaxed about keeping in touch with people. I’m trying to phone them rather than just whatsapp or email, but I have to admit that so far I’m quite relishing not having the commute to work (I maybe said that last week as well). Today, for example, I did yoga before work, started about 8.30a.m., went for a run at lunchtime, and then worked until about 7p.m. when the National Theatre’s free streaming began.

I think this is such a great idea, and they showed a slightly slapstick comedy which in some ways was a little trite, but I think was exactly what was needed at the moment. I really enjoyed it and am going to try to ‘go to the theatre’ every week. A lot of it would be stuff I wouldn’t dream of buying a ticket for, and other than being tempted to go out into the kitchen to cook dinner in the middle, it’s very pleasant being able to sit in your own home and watch top class theatre. It’s not quite the same as live streaming of opera, plays or ballet in the cinema – it doesn’t have the same sense of occasion – but even so I made sure that I’d put my laptop away and my phone to one side.

Tomorrow the kids will be here – or some of them should be (if I’m going all the way down to Penrith I very much hope they WILL be here) and Bella and I could watch ballet from the Royal Opera House. But until then, I’ve opened and drank far too much of my ‘interval bottle’ of prosecco, and feel ready to fall into bed and slumber.

Sunday 5th April

On Friday morning after yoga and a short run I headed down to Penrith to fetch the children, stopping at Cranstons Penrith food hall en route (which was incredibly quiet – certainly the desperation for food and other necessities seems to have calmed). The kids seemed content to be heading back with me and Bella and Edward in particular were talking about how excited they were to see our cat, Artemis.

Once the kids were here I realised that the ‘loneliness’ I sometimes feel, and which can make me feel really low, isn’t so much from being alone as from feeling unloved – something which I think most parents feel to a greater or lesser extent. Almost as soon as they came in the house, and after they’d made a fuss of the cat, one of the children started demanding to be bought things. My arguments that I don’t know whether I may be furloughed on 80% pay, can’t keep going out to the shops (and don’t want to) and don’t want to run out of this month’s salary too soon, fell on deaf (teenage) ears. True I’m not paying for train fares and various lessons, but I don’t feel I can just go out and spend willy-nilly.

So having wondered why on earth I bothered to fetch them, there was then the pleasure of going for a walk with my two boys – even if the younger was being painfully slow and making a meal of it – and of doing sewing and then watching TV with my daughter. I guess the other thing is that they all want to do, and are capable of doing, such different things. And, whilst I don’t want to do the whole ‘it’s hard being a single parent’ thing, it is definitely far more difficult trying to deal with three kids on your own than when there are two (or even more) adults around: I’m definitely ‘Outnumbered‘.

Having taken this coming week as annual leave, to have the kids over the Easter holidays, it now looks as if none of them will be here. Bella complains bitterly if I ever go abroad without her (I can’t afford to take all the children – even my own holiday to Finland earlier this year was all paid for by credit card and is still being just slowly paid off (something I was hoping to pay off a bit more of if I was able to spend a bit less this month and next)), but I now feel that I may as well use my annual leave for myself if all they’re going to do is be at David’s when I’m in my house on my own while I’m on leave. The last 10 days or so have shown me that I can cope quite happily on my own – in fact the sad thing is that it’s a lot more tranquil when I’m on my own. I love my kids to bits and even though they drive me bonkers I still think they’re amazing in their own, very individual and completely different ways, and it makes me sad that they churn me up so much.

Speaking of being churned up, there’s now the fear of a more strict lockdown being enforced, as crowds of stupid people have been out in parks sunbathing. I’m somewhat less worked up about this than I was about the initial lockdown, but – what idiots! I can completely and utterly sympathise with people in city flats wanting to get out, but as someone said, why not just go for a walk and avoid other people, rather than sitting in a park making it obvious that you’re ignoring social distancing rules. I have been really enjoying my daily yoga and daily bike ride or run and feeling fitter and healthier than I have for ages; I shall be gutted if those of us who want to keep fit and healthy have to stop because of some selfish minority who think they’re not affected by the rules the rest of us are living by (and what about the Scottish Health Minister – what a twit, and what arrogance! She should be sacked. She doesn’t even deserve two houses at a time when some people are facing all sorts of financial problems).

I wonder how many circuits of my house would make up 5km? Would Strava even be able to measure such a short lap?

Monday 6th April – day 14

Well, that’s a fortnight gone, and no rumours on today’s News of lockdown getting more restrictive (I wonder how a sunny Easter weekend will affect people and lockdown, though). My children have gone back to their Dad’s. I did at least manage to get the boys out for a walk again today, and Edward helped a bit in the garden earlier. It’s been such a gorgeous day I’m amazed they weren’t champing at the bit to be outside all day. Edward’s hair is getting curly at the back as it’s getting longer; Alex is developing a floppy fringe in contrast to his normally acutely short ‘army cadet’ cut. I like them both with slightly longer hair!

Having dropped them off I decided I’d drive back on the country roads – along the lower slopes of the north Pennines, up through Lazonby, Kirkoswald, Croglin, Newbiggin and Castle Carrock. For a start it stopped me being tempted to nip into the Co-op for wine and chocolate; and also it’s a beautiful drive. I had ClassicFM on the radio, and passed plenty of people out for their evening exercise: we are so lucky living up here, surrounded by hills and greenery and gorgeous views.

I haven’t done much exercise myself the past few days as it doesn’t fit in with having the kids, and I’m getting itchy feet to be out on my bike. I need to fetch some toilet rolls at some point so if the weather continues like this I will fetch them by bike rather than in the car!

As I drove back I heard the news for the first time in ages. There were fewer deaths from Covid-19 today than yesterday but the Health Minister or someone said it’s too soon to speak of relaxing lockdown (clearly). It brought me up with a start: having been so worried about the restrictions of lockdown, I suddenly realised that I’m not ready for it to finish yet! The status of our lockdown at the moment – where you can still go to the supermarkets etc. for necessities, and when you can go out exercising once a day – has been suiting me fine. I’ve altered my pace of life, and want to be able to continue to do yoga every morning before work and to go for a run at lunchtime or in the evening, and a bike ride on the days when the kids aren’t with me!

People I’ve chatted to are already saying possibly this will change the way we live. I hope so; I really hope so. I’m somewhat sceptical about human greed though.

Meanwhile I’ve started a Garden Project so next week’s Lockdown Diary is going to be less about the logistics of lockdown and more about my garden. I should add that I’m not normally terribly keen on gardening, but this is an opportunity to do some major digging and redesigning (rather than just weeding): a bit like altering rooms inside the house. I’m thinking about a pond, although I know nothing about establishing one and last time I had a pond I killed off all the fish as I treated the water for algae bloom a little too vigorously. What I’d really love is some sort of cascading water feature, but I think that would be far to expensive and time-consuming to install and maintain.

Anyone got a spare bath?

Lockdown Running

March 27, 2020March 27, 2020sarahjlewisbriggs3 Comments

So, what I dreaded came to pass. As crowds of people were too stupid to keep away from each other but instead flocked to the Lake District, Snowdon, Devon etc. in their hundreds over the weekend, on Monday night came the announcement I’d been dreading: lockdown.

My feelings over the past couple of weeks have, like so many other people’s, alternated between incredibly low moods (really not feeling like doing anything, wondering where it would all end, wondering how to carry on) and being fairly phlegmatic about it all. It didn’t help that I was running out of food (and it was getting towards the end of the month, so I was also trying to wait for payday until I went out for a supermarket shop). I was messaged a couple of times about whether I should have the kids with me and whether they were putting me more at risk – my immediate emotional response was one of ‘how on earth would I cope if I couldn’t see my kids’; I was also worried about my mental health if I couldn’t get out for a run or a bike ride.

By the Monday evening, just before the announcement, I was feeling annoyed with the scare-mongering and general panic. I deactivated my Facebook account and concentrated on other things. When my running group all decided not to go out running, even at 2m apart, I was devastated (and switched off notifications from them for a while – however it didn’t take me long to switch them back on again!). I felt like closing myself off from everybody – which sounds contradictory but is my standard response when I feel really low. I go into ‘shutdown’ mode.

What I really needed to do, of course, was get out for a run and do some singing practice. When I awoke on Tuesday and found a text from the government telling me I had to stay in, I read the details. Yes, I can go out to shop for food; yes I can do one bit of exercise a day, if I stay away from other people; yes divorced parents are allowed to go between each other’s houses to pick up their children as they would normally do. I had work that day, chatted to a friend who had been having similar mood swings, and that evening went for a run and then came home and did some singing practice.

Life seemed better. Lockdown had happened, but without the drama that I had feared. The energy to run and to do singing practice had come back and created the mental energy to look forward to doing so the next day; and the next.

Then my ex told me he’d had a dry cough and a high temperature, so the whole household was self-isolating completely. He felt absolutely fine and having spoken to him a couple of days later there was no cough to be heard. However it means I don’t get to see the kids for longer than I had anticipated. Perhaps because I had been out running and singing, and chatting to people, I didn’t react as I’d thought I might. I’d far rather we were all healthy and safe: and in fact what is now less than 2 weeks is only like them being on holiday. I miss them – their clutter is still distributed around my house, and rather than clearing it up as I normally would, I’ve left it around – but they will be back. I gave Edward’s panda a hug yesterday; I wander into their rooms to distribute cleaned and ironed clothes, sensing their characters in their rooms. Somehow they have left some of their energy and their imprint on those rooms; they’re not completely empty and devoid, just left in a rush, saying ‘we’ll be back soon and pick up where we left off’. I’m rather glad I haven’t tidied them up!

Of course what is so different about being closed away now – in comparison with the times when I’ve been really ill in the far distant past, pre-marriage and children, and was living alone – is that technology keeps us all in touch with each other. Even when the work emails crash, whatsapp works, or the phone. I can see people via zoom or skype or any of the message-calling services; something which I couldn’t conceive of when I first started work (when we didn’t even have email).

I am also incredibly lucky. I have a job and am being paid my salary as normal, so far; I have a house with a garden; I have countryside on my doorstep, with space enough not to be close to people and to still go out running or cycling or walking; and my children will be back soon. It is scary in that it feels as if the virus is getting closer – Cumbria has had quite a high incidence rate, especially bearing in mind our small population – but I am so glad I’m no longer a city flat dweller and that I don’t have the worries of being unemployed or running my own business. And also, it could be worse: we could be in a war zone and thank goodness we’re not.

I’m still not back on Facebook and I’m not watching the news. In some ways I am living in a bubble, but it is almost impossible in these days of IT connectivity not to know something of what is going on. Reading Sapiens (Yuval Noah Harari) made me acutely conscious of what social animals we humans are. Whilst we cannot ‘connect’ physically at the moment, for most of us the opportunities to connect in other ways are possibly almost better than they ever have been.

Take care and keep safe, everybody. And don’t forget Syria.

These days will return:

Ladies of the Lakes – 2 and 3

August 26, 2019sarahjlewisbriggs1 Comment

I’ve always been somewhat put off swimming in Ullswater by going out one evening with a triathlon club. The idea was to swim across the lake and back. It was colder than I’d expected; it was choppy (one person actually got out on to the boat accompanying us, she felt so sick); at one point the steamer went past; and I was right at the back of a bunch of serious, ironman-training triathletes. I also had visions of great pike shooting up from the bottom of the lake to nibble my toes, or worse. The fact that it is almost 200 ft. (63 m) deep in the middle didn’t console me much either.

I knew it would make more sense to swim up and down parallel to the shore rather than straight across the lake, and having swum in Bassenthwaite, Crummock Water (twice) and attempted Derwentwater (muddy), I was feeling somewhat more optimistic about Ullswater: and Anne had confirmed that she knew a really good place to swim.

So, one rather rainy Saturday – we were going to get wet anyway – Anne, Jo and I travelled down to Sandwick towards the south-east corner of the lake. I hadn’t driven down here before although I’ve run round there twice – in fact the cottages there were what made me comment to Penny on our ’16 lakes runs’ that I’d like to live in the Lake District one day. There’s a group of about 4 or 5 houses with a nice grass verge where you can park (though I’m not sure the householders would be that happy to have that widely advertised). It’s then a short walk over a rushing stream and through a field to a little beach. The path is part of the Ullswater Way, so we felt quite public as we got changed – and a family had chosen that point to stop at the picnic table provided so we probably bothered them as much as they bothered us.

It was definitely a wetsuits day, and Anne had even bought a pair of gloves – something I must invest in (I have to admit to wanting some Huub ones to go with my Huub wetsuit). Jo had a new wetsuit, having tried a secondhand boy’s shortie wetsuit in Crummock and also having enjoyed open water swimming enough to want to come along again. We swam up and down a fair amount in a slightly farmland-ish setting, walkers going past on a fairly regular basis and commenting. It was all really friendly though if what you wanted was a ‘get away from it all’ experience, this wouldn’t be the one.

So far the weather had been kind to us: despite the frequent rain showers of the previous few days it had been mostly sunny. We got out – we have set a criteria that we must be in the water for at least 30 minutes (even if we get out in the middle and then go in again) – and got changed and at that moment there was a sudden but brief downpour. Fortunately the trees around the lake and the beach sheltered us and after only a few minutes we started the walk back to the car, where we had some sandwiches etc. About 10 minutes later the heavens opened in earnest and we leapt into the car and headed home.

Unfortunately Jo wasn’t able to come with us the following weekend (I was due to have the kids, but my ex had taken them away) and we’d decided we’d do Wastwater. This is another daunting lake. The scree slopes glower over the water on the southern side, and at times the water can look black. There’s not a huge amount of vegetation around the lake either, which perhaps adds to its starkly majestic feel: it’s not as enclosed by woods as many of the lakes are.

Wastwater is the deepest lake in England so if anything I should have felt more nervous about it than I did about Ullswater. However it doesn’t have a steamer going up and down (and potentially likely to chop you up), which helped, and I had seen people kayaking, diving etc. from the other side. My aim was to park near where Penny & I had parked when we ran round the lake. Having had incredibly heavy rain earlier in the week (the rivers were looking full to bursting), Friday had turned hot and sunny with forecasts of some of the highest temperatures ever for the bank holiday weekend.

The weather forecast was right and Saturday was glorious. As a result Wastwater was heaving – at least, heaving for a relatively remote Lake District lake which can only be directly reached from the western edges of Cumbria (there’s one road in which comes to a dead end at Wasdale Head, where Red Pike, Great Gable and Scafell Pike look down over the lake). However due to the lake’s rather daunting reputation, having plenty of people around was good rather than bad, and we joined the groups around a bay with an island in it.

The water was beautifully clear, and you get into the lake via stony beaches. The water was so clear that swimming across to the island you could see below easily: there weren’t any weeds until we were in about 8′ of water (I didn’t feel them beneath my feet when I put my feet down) and you could see some sort of pipeline running along the lake bottom. We swam out to and round the island before having a picnic lunch; and then got back in again. While Anne swam round to the next bay, I swam round to the next bay and then to the island and back again.

No often I look taller than someone else…

I felt that my swimming was improving: I haven’t swum regularly for so long that my stamina isn’t great, but these swims are giving me the confidence to know that if I did more training I’d feel like tackling a triathlon again.

Ambleside in the distance – so near and yet so far

We drove back over Hardknott and Wrynose passes: a narrow, hairpin route with stunning views. Just over the top of Wrynose I pulled in to allow a cyclist more room to go past: and burst my nearside front tyre on a rock. We spent the next 3 hours looking as if we were having a picnic admiring the view towards Ambleside from the top of Wrynose and acting like police officers making sure nobody came round the corner too fast and straight into the back of my car. When the breakdown van finally turned up it took the guy less than 10 minutes to put my spare wheel on: and I was extremely glad I hadn’t tried to do it myself, as even with wooden blocks behind the back wheels and a rock in front of the offside front, the car shifted a bit as he jacked it up (the first guy who had gone past us had said we were on too steep a slope to change the wheel).

We got back to my house hours later than intended but Anne’s lovely husband Mark had good-naturedly driven down from their house (he had had a long journey back from London already that day) to look after the kittens, who I had left outside all day and who I thought might be rather hungry. As we sat and had some food and drinks, we discussed our scoring system for the lakes and came up with a scorecard which gives marks out of 70 for each one. So far Wastwater is in the lead, Crummock Water second and Ullswater last. Wastwater had been utterly superb: so superb that I’m hoping to get a group down there for a sunset swim and picnic on my birthday in a couple of weeks’ time.

Northumberland

April 28, 2019sarahjlewisbriggsLeave a comment

Easter was stunning this year. Days of sunshine and warm weather; the Lake District honeypots were bustling with people: walkers with their poles, families with their dogs, children and cars… it took us an hour to get on to the Windermere ferry, Isabella complaining about the wait but Edward and I keen to enjoy the quirky journey – which in fact was probably still quicker than driving around the wiggly lanes, reversing every so often into a passing place, squeezing past cars and cyclists, queuing to get through Ambleside…

I love the Lakes even when they’re busy. I think 15 years of living in London has inured me to queues and traffic – it was always quicker to cycle than to drive in London, especially in the rush hour. So complaints about how busy the Lake District gets tend to make me smile internally in a superior sort of fashion and to say to myself ‘you’ve obviously never lived in London’ (the same applies to people who think that they have to have a house with a garage….). I do wish, however, that the economic benefits brought to the Lake District – indeed to Cumbria as a whole – by the visitors were balanced by more environmental benefits. The various authorities are making efforts (more buses; buses with bike racks; reminders about not walking where you shouldn’t, keeping your dogs on leads near livestock, not dropping litter) but I can’t help thinking how wasteful we humans are. I’m as guilty as any – I drive to the Lake District, I buy food in cafes, some of which have plastic straws or plastic single use pots, I trample the various paths… (apparently I saved approximately 25 miles by taking the ferry rather than driving – a mere drop in the Environmental ocean…).

One of the things about the Lake District is the narrow windy, undulating roads with stone walls on either side. Cycling doesn’t particularly appeal to me, unless at least some of the roads could be made car-free (maybe that’s the answer?). Whilst I would love to be out on my bike, if I fall off I might fall into a wall; alternatively I could be suddenly squashed into a wall or knocked off my bike by a car – or van – coming too fast round a corner and not seeing me until it was too late. That’s not to say I wouldn’t cycle in the Lake District, but I can see what deters people.

Northumberland on the other hand is perfect cycling country. On Easter Monday I went eastwards to drop a bike off to a friend near Corbridge. From there I drove more or less due north along back routes to the A697 to go to Wooler. All day in Northumberland I was to see cyclists, singly and in groups. Even the quieter roads are relatively wide with grass verges, and many of them have long straight sections, providing great visibility (the grass verges also mean that if you fall off you’ll have a slightly softer landing than against a stone wall). What’s missing of course are the high fells and the lakes: but the Cheviots are beautiful and provide stunning views, including to the North Sea.

Today was colder and windier than the past few days had been but there was still a heat haze in the distance. At Wooler I parked in a free car park near the Tourist Centre (in what seemed to be a rather nice community centre) and walked up the road towards the hamlet of Humbleton. I crossed over a field adjoining a campsite – and through a bower of white flowered bushes into the next field. There were some beautiful cottages at Humbleton and I paused to admire them before taking a left-hand track slightly uphill towards the hill itself, stopping again to read the interpretation panel about the battle of Humbleton Hill – which happened on my birthday but in 1402 (does anyone else ever feel that things happening on their birth date feels significant?). The ravine which would have been useful to corralling cattle was clear on my right, and I stood on a grassy knoll trying to imagine what it would have felt like to have seen the battle taking place. I wonder if archaeology was carried out whether there would be any remains of soldiers’ bones or artefacts? Were the fields soaked red with the blood of the Scottish soldiers that day? Apparently English losses were minimal: the English archers efficiently slaughtered most of the Scottish.

The track to the top of the hill bends to the south west and continues to climb – a grassy route and presumably ancient. Would the Iron Age people who lived here have walked this route before me, all those centuries ago? The wind was strong and lent an exhilarating chill to the air, but when in sheltered sunny areas warmth soaked into your being. Internal cobwebs were blown away one moment, to be replaced by warmth and well-being the next. What an amazing place to have lived, albeit exposed.

I had particularly wanted to visit this hill fort since picking up a leaflet about it in a visitor centre somewhere else. I remember going to a hill fort in the south – I think it may have been Cadbury – as a child and being singularly unimpressed whilst my mother raved on about how amazing it was. To me it was just grassy mounds and some trees on top of a hill. Humbleton Hill is different, and far more exciting – though I’m not sure that my children would be any more excited than I was as a child. The remains of the inner and outer enclosure walls can be seen at the top, and clear grass circles of where the huts were situated. In the distance you could see the North Sea and could understand why people would have wanted to live here. You could see for miles around, and any unwanted guests would be spotted climbing the hill in plenty of time to work out what to do about them.

At the top the National Park has built a cairn (made with bits of the old enclosure walls??? Presumably not) and then provided thick planks of wood to sit on. Several people were up there – someone spoke to me but the wind just threw her words away from me, although she seemed to hear what I said in reply all right.

Coming down the hill, and as I was wearing my trail running shoes – even though I was otherwise in normal clothes, including jeans – I couldn’t help but run for a bit, my heart singing in my chest, wondering again if Iron Age people had done the same. The grassy track just invited it – if I’d been in running gear I’d have spread my arms and run down, the closest to flying on the ground that a human being can get!

I chose then to take the slightly longer route back to Wooler through some woods (the path through them is part of St Cuthbert’s Way, another route I’d like to walk or run) and then over Wooler Common, which the Forestry Commission have turned into a lovely and educational wildlife habitat. I got back to the car with time to get to Wallington (National Trust) before closing time. Here nature has been tamed to an extent, but I loved the walk through the woodland to the walled garden and back and the vivid splashes of colour provided by spring flowers. And whilst the café only had egg and cress sandwiches left, it was pleasant to sit in the Courtyard Café and watch people enjoying the good weather: lazing in deckchairs; picnicking on the grass; chatting at the cafe tables; playing football or frizbee. In my opinion the National Trust has improved its ‘offer’ vastly over the past decade or two, and there are several properties in this part of the world where you could spend several hours on a visit – Cragside, just up the road from Wallington, is another.

I drove home along the old military road to be met by my oldest son as I turned into my road. He had been at cadet camp and been promoted, and having not seen him much over the past few weeks it was pleasant to spend an hour or so with him. It had been a glorious Easter.

Easter at Brothers Water

April 28, 2019sarahjlewisbriggs3 Comments

After our mammoth efforts around Windermere we only had two more lakes to go of the list that Penny had set – though in fact if we chose to run around all the lakes, waters and tarns of Cumbria we should officially also run around Kielder Water (26 miles) and the list of small tarns is almost endless. As she had run around Brotherswater on her own at the very beginning of the challenge, when the opportunity arose for me to run around it, I decided it was time that I set out.

It was about 4 o’clock in the afternoon by the time I got to the car park at Cow Bridge, having left the children with David (my ex-husband) at Rheged. This Easter weekend had not only been sunny but warm, with almost summery temperatures, so the Lake District was busy and Edward had already been in the water at Pooley Bridge. I wasn’t sure there would be parking spaces available but in fact because it was later on in the afternoon and also because Brotherswater is a little off the beaten track, there were several spaces available and I parked easily.

The car park is on a corner of the road near an old bridge and an old road – presumably the route of the road was ‘improved’ at some point to make the corner less sharp and/or to put in a new bridge, and it created a piece of land with enough space for parking either side of the Goldrill Beck, which flows out of the lake. I was running clockwise around the lake as from what Penny had told me it sounded as if that would be the easier way to find the path, and I started out along the road which at that point has a pavement.

It wasn’t long before I noticed a pedestrian gate and a path running alongside a field. This meandered along next to the road but protected from it by a stone wall, and came out at Skyeside Campside. Penny said when she had run along here it had been overgrown and difficult to see the path, so fortunately it looked as if someone had done some maintenance. I stopped to check that I was on the right route at the campsite reception-cum-shop area: the public footpath goes straight across the campsite, which today was busy due not only to the long weekend but also to the glorious weather.

Going through a gate you run across National Trust land heading towards Hartsop Hall, a working farm and holiday cottages. The farm house is grade 1 listed and significant as being one of the earliest remaining farmhouses in the Lake District. The listing document describes it as a “typical larger Lakeland farmhouse in typically magnificent setting”, and provides the details that the original house dates from the 16^th century with wings added in the 17^th and 18^th centuries. With the sun shining, spring bursting forth – lambs chasing each other around the fields while their mothers sat contentedly in the warmth – and the lake, it was indeed a beautiful setting and once more I was grateful for these runs and for the areas of the countryside I had seen which I hadn’t seen before.

A good public path then goes straight down the western side of the lake back to the car park, with plenty of alternative route options if you want to go further, perhaps exploring the woods or walking through to Patterdale. This side of the lake in particular was gorgeous. As I ran, thoughts and feelings spilled through my head: that when the weather is a beautiful as this I just want to stay outside for hours and hours, which is partly why the long runs are so great (the only thing I really hate is being wet, particularly if I’m cold as well); that I had driven past Brotherswater lots of times but this was the first time I’d actually stopped, slowed up and taken account of the actual lake and its surroundings, instead of hareing up the Kirkstone Pass; and most of all I felt a renewed love of Cumbria and of the Lake District in particular. When David and I moved to Cumbria it was because we loved the Lake District: frustrations at home, working in Newcastle and travelling around Northumberland and Yorkshire had made me wonder about moving to the North East or to Yorkshire. Running around Windermere and then Brotherswater confirmed to me that this is where my heart is. I’m not sure how accurate DNA ‘ancestry’ tests are but mine showed a strong Celtic heritage, including not only the west country but Wales and what is now Cumbria. Is there some sort of ‘tribal memory’ which sometimes means that you find yourself in a place where you just feel completely rooted; a part of the entire fabric of the place? Who knows.

I passed few people around Brotherswater despite the call to be outdoors; and I sat later in happy solitude by the beck and just soaked up the views and the sunshine. An undulating path lead a golden track up the hill behind Hartsop village and I wanted to follow it to discover where it went (up to High Street perhaps – a route I want to follow from end to end sometime) and what views there might be from the top. And I harked back to singing in Patterdale church, intending to concentrate on the conductor but instead finding my eyes constantly drawn through the church windows to the hills beyond: the very hills I was now looking at from a lake.

It was only a short run – disappointingly so for a day when I wanted just to sit outside until it grew dark and cold, when I had no pressing need to rush home – so after contemplating life for a while I went into Glenridding, bought myself a drink and sat and read my book in the early evening sun.