I’d booked one night at the Premier Inn in Kendal for New Year’s Eve. Leaving home at about 12.30 on Dec 24th* I paused for lunch at Birch services on the M62. The rain had started, but it got worse! I’ve never seen warning signs of FLOODS on a motorway before! That was a bit OTT – standing water, yes, but not real floods. Still, care was needed.

(*This post is about New Year! So this date is evidently wrong … I’m leaving it as it is so that my niece’s comment below makes sense!)

Once in Kendal, although I used to take pupils there regularly to practise and take their driving test, I just couldn’t recognise the place! Of course, it was dark and wet, which didn’t help, but Satnav got me through, although it wouldn’t talk to me (low battery?). So many streets which used to be one-way seemed to have been reversed or to have become two-way! Reception at the hotel was fine, and my room comfortable and spacious.

I’d included a ‘meal deal’ in the booking and the dinner was satisfactory, but nothing special or festive. Then any thoughts I might have had of going out to look for any signs of celebrations were washed out by the awful weather!

Breakfast was good, and after a bit o’ bovver sorting out how to pay for the car park before leaving, I got on the road around 9.30, and headed for Grasmere. There were some areas of standing water on the road, which one had to drive round or go through very cautiously, but sections beside Windermere which flood sometimes were OK. Ambleside is usually a crawling bottleneck any time of any day, but I’ve never seen so little traffic there, and there was no need to slow down to much below the speed limit!

By Rydal Water things were a bit different; the outflow, the River Rothay, was full to overflowing and filling the surrounding areas with white water! But as yet, none on the road. Beyond Rydal, the scene was really grim! The popular car park between Rydal and Grasmere was largely under water, and that included a number of picnic tables!

I was hoping to be near Grasmere at the time when the forecast had suggested there would be a break in the cloud and the rain, and maybe some moments of sunshine. I drove past the lake and into the village. I might have stopped, but the pharmacy was closed and parking near the Co-op where I might have bought a paper was occupied and I didn’t want to get wet by walking any distance. Still trusting the forecast, I headed back to the lake. As I approached the first of the two lay-bys (most people likely to read this know them both), I saw it was empty. Just as I signalled to pull in, a car coming the other way did the same! Happily, we exchanged smiles and negotiated round each other! (“That’s the way to do it!”)

Now, the rain was falling, drizzly, but steady. This was the scene across the road:

At least, in winter, you get a glimpse of the lake! But, a few moments later, over my shoulder to the north, there was a break in the cloud, and:

– a patch of sunlight on Silver Howe! Moments later again:

A partial rainbow touched the tip of the island*! It looked promising; the rain seemed to have eased off so I made plans to get down to the lakeside. (I think all likely readers know why that was important.) I got boots from the boot (?!) and began to try to put them on – BUT! There was a strong wind and the sunshine and blue sky was blown away; more, and heavier, rain was falling … what to do? It was still too early for lunch, so I moved out of that lay-by, not quite sure what I was planning. However, round the bend and alongside Penny Rock Wood (affectionately known to some members of this family who are fans of ‘Jabberwocky’ as ‘the Tulgey Wood’), and seeing there was only one vehicle in the lay-by, I pulled in.

I waited. What I could see of the sky varied between grey and bits of blue/white. I looked at the weather forecast. The last chance for an hour of little or no rain was approaching. I booted up. Coat, hat, scarf, and yes, I crossed the road and went ‘whiffling through the Tulgey Wood’, stick, not Vorpal Sword, in hand. (And if that’s all nonsense to you look up Jabberwocky!)

The lake was full! There was no ‘beach’ where picnics and barbecues have been partaken, swimming enjoyed and the boat pushed out. The rocks which are a feature of this particular spot were under water and the strong north wind was driving wavelets towards the lake’s outflow. Across the lake, there was a stream where usually there isn’t one! – enlarge the photo and you can see it.

Turning to the north-west from the same spot, the lake and sky were a different colour!

It was cold with a fine drizzle, but I was pleased with myself for making the effort, so I thought a selfie was called for! I’d left the selfie stick in the car, and fingers were too cold and numb to have fiddled with it, but I managed this one:

I made my way back to the road the shortest way, not through the wood, then along the road to the car.

There’s plenty to tell about the rest of the day, but no more photographs because all the good moments occurred while driving. There were more rainbows, the best of which was as I drove alongside Thirlmere. The rainbow dipped right into the lake, and was reflected, of course. The waterfalls on the side of Helvellyn were spectacular, but approaching Blencathra (Saddleback) through the Vale of St. John’s – it wasn’t there! Well, it was, but low cloud was concealing it. I got to Rheged (just in time, if you know what I mean!) where I bought the paper and a snack for lunch to have with the boiled egg from the cool box, and the next call was at Westmorland Services where I made a couple of purchases at the farm shop. Then the journey home proceeded through increasingly bad weather to arrive in the last of the daylight.

The snow came four days later!

BONNE ANNEE!

Hippo Blue Beer!

*In his poem ‘An Evening Walk’ (describing a long trek, impossible to achieve in an evening, except as a memory!) Wordsworth wrote the line ‘where peace to Grasmere’s lonely island leads’. Some of us know what he means. Even when I first knew it, you could see from anywhere on the lakeshore that it was an island – a little green mound with a little shippen on it. What’s a shippen? It’s a dialect word for a small barn. I’ve always thought it was Lancashire, because I heard me Dad say it, but research tells me it’s Cheshire! Anyway, Grasmere’s island is now so tree-covered that it merges from any distance into the surrounding shore, at least it does from the east, and the barn can’t be seen, if indeed it’s still there. Back in the day, if you hired a rowing boat from the foot of Red Bank, you could beach the boat on the island and wander round. That was still possible when Carol first visited, spring 1987, bluebell time:

R. I. P.