Lake Windermere

I was up early today as I had planned a walk around at least part of lake Windermere. Windermere isn't the touristy village I thought it would be, as it isn't all that close to the lake, so after breakfast I didn't hang around. The morning had been grey, but the clouds started to break up on my walk to the lake, and it was almost a beautiful day as I climbed a hill and got my first look at that famous landscape. Even though the view was magnificent, the hills on the other side of the lake were still hazy and dark, and I got the impression I wasn't seeing them at their best.

I followed a footpath south along the shore until I could go no further, then went back on myself, rejoining the main road and walking up to see if I could find anything else of interest. Nothing. Turning back, I headed past where I had started and followed the road a while to see if there was anything that way instead. Ah ha! After 2 extra miles, Bowness-on-Windermere. Much more like it. The picturesque English country village I thought Windermere would be, Bowness clearly benefits from the tourism it sees due to it being literally on the shoreline.

By this time, the weather had cleared and the uninterrupted sunshine was giving me the gorgeous day I had hoped for that morning. I had a sandwich I'd bought in Windermere sat on a wall by the shore, and I enjoyed watching the flapping, wobbly men struggling with their rowboats, attempting to show off their masculinity to their dry-for-now partners and failing. Completely ignored by the dozens of swans around, my sandwich didn't seem to interest them at all. Infinitely less pushy and aggressive than the swans in Windsor, these guys sat almost like pets next to occupied benches, calm and disciplined, as if trained for some mental entry at Crufts. And yes, even though I understand I am a 30 year old man unaccompanied by children, I had an ice cream, alright?! I had a bloody ice cream!

Panoramic view from Bowness-on-Windermere

After a lovely walk up and around the hill of the village, I started the trek back to Windermere. My iPod was being particularly helpful and decided to play me a mini English medley of Bowie, The Beatles, Elton John and Roxy Music to enjoy in the sun. I don't care if it was written in Wales, The Rain Song by led Zeppelin is a powerfully evocative song that, for me, epitomises dear old England. Incredibly gorgeous, exuberant and symphonic, it never fails to make me emotional when the sun is out. A phenomenal piece of work:

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