Lake District Day 2 - Holes in the ground

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Up for sunrise once more, and I elected to go back to the same spot I had occupied the morning before, to see if the colours were more to my liking. So yet again, as I strode through the gloom, I thought how a torch would have been handy, and yet again, once I had reached Friars Crag, I made my way down the perilous embankment to the shoreline. But here’s the crucial difference, I made it down without banging, cutting, grazing or gouging a single part of my delicate person.

Job well done I mused, but then an alarming thought appeared unbidden, if I didn’t injure myself now then it was bound to happen later on in the day. So with that unpleasant logic beginning to smoulder in my brain pit, I thought it best to get it over with, at which point I promptly picked up a wellington boot someone had discarded on the shore and began bashing myself over the head with it.

So it was I found myself stood on the gentle, silent shoreline, as the dark of the night gave way to the soft, cool tones of dawns first light, repeatedly hitting myself over the head with a soaking wet item of rubber footwear.

Life is a strange old fruit sometimes.

Of course I didn’t do any such thing, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. Believe me, if I thought there was even a glimmer of hope along that particular avenue. I would have brought my own wellington boot along with me for the occasion.

I was soon setting up the tripod in anticipation of the morning light, and thankfully it didn’t disappoint. It was soon putting on a grand display of pinks and yellows over the distant fells. Alas it didn’t last long, and although I waited around for another half hour or so, it just became rather grey and ashen as the early morning progressed.

This was the last of the sun I would see all day unfortunately

Lake District Day 1 - Part 2

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After getting what I could of the sunbeams piercing the distant clouds, above the looming fells of Buttermere, I moved to the skeletal tree that sits on upon the mere’s northern shore and did what I do best. Actually that’s a lie, my twerking prowess is only unleashed within the hours of darkness and at very select locations, instead I did what I do passably middling, and that was good enough for me.

No visit to Butters is complete without a shot of this old man

Lake District Day 1 - Part 1

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I had arrived early afternoon the previous day, but thanks to the boisterous weather there was no chance of getting out with the camera. The visibility was next to nothing and the rain was relentless, so I didn’t fancy standing next to a lake and getting soaked. So I went into Keswick town and got soaked instead.

I met up with Sarah from Image Seen, who was running a photography workshop over the weekend, and with whom I had agreed to ferry some of the participants around for one of the days, while dispensing general advice on photography and Photoshop, whether they asked for it or not. And we repaired ourselves to Java & Chocolate where the coffee is always never less than decent.

After guzzling down our respective cuppas we headed out into the rain and made our way to Booths, that most resplendent of supermarkets, and one I have waxed lyrical about before, to pick up a bounty of grub for the workshop the next day. And as usual I was suitably impressed enough with their operation that they remained at the top of my favourite supermarkets list. While I realise that having a favourite supermarkets list is, let’s not beat around the bush here, tragic, I am in no doubt that the owners of Booths would be pleased as punch to know they lead it, and rightly so.

I spent the remainder of the day sprawled out on a sofa, suffering the gruesome and harrowing repercussions of an ongoing cold as it developed within my face, whilst hoping the next day would bring a more pleasing climate.

Lake District - Day 6

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This morning I drove over to Ullswater, the second largest lake in the district after Windermere, and one which many regard as the most beautiful of English lakes, comparing it to Lake Lucerne in Switzerland. It is a typical Lake District narrow "ribbon lake" formed after the last ice age when a glacier scooped out the valley floor and when the glacier retreated, the deepened section filled with meltwater which became a lake.

And here is that very Water, taken that afternoon

The origin of the name 'Ullswater' is uncertain. Some say it comes from the name of a Nordic chief 'Ulf' who ruled over the area; there was also a Saxon Lord of Greystoke called 'Ulphus' whose land bordered the lake. The lake may have been named Ulf's Water in honour of either of these, or it may be named after the Norse god Ullr.

Lake District - Day 5

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Woke up to a fair amount of cloud, but by the time I left the weather was starting to look promising and boding well for the rest of the day.

I started with a drive over the Honister Pass that would take me to the southern end of Buttermere. At 1,167 feet it is one of the highest and steepest in the region. Passing the Honister slate mine and YHA situated at the top, I made my way down the other side, stopping for a while to wait with my camera for the sun to creep downwards over the precipitous valley walls, crags and boulders that are strewn about the valley floor. 

It took a while, but the sun started to creep across the fells in the end

It was fairly early in the morning so traffic was few and far between and the place was beautifully quiet, it really is an atmospheric place.

Lake District - Day 4

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Yet again, with an embarrassed sun rising behind a thick smog of grey cloud, the morning weather looked ridiculous. I headed over to the Borrowdale Hotel, to deliver some choice words on the subject of Photoshop techniques to the lucky people who were part of the Lake District Image Seen workshop group. And by the time I had enlightened all with my sparkling presentation, the weather was looking a lot better, so I took the short drive up to Ashness Bridge with an idea to get some images of this most resplendent of Cumbria’s icons. 

As it happens so had quite a few other people, all of whom it seems, were taking part in some kind of bizarre contest to see who could wear the most garishly coloured cagoule. So I tried my best to get some photos of the bridge and lake beyond, while at the same time doing my best to exclude the rabid pack of flamboyantly hued hunchbacks crawling all over my view.

I was aware that I too was probably featuring heavily in their photos, standing right in front of the bridge as I was. So I could well imagine that they had similar misgivings about my presence there, although to make one thing absolutely clear, my jacket was a pleasantly tasteful neutral colour, so they could have no reason to suffer distress on that regard. But the thought of them taking issue with my attendance made me curse them doubly, and I vowed to fight them and all their kind to my last breath. 

After a bit of judicious waiting around on the day and a small amount of tinkering
on the computer I managed to make this a cagoule free zone

Lake District - Day 3

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Woke up to yet another heart achingly miserable morning, with rain and wind of the likes I’ve not seen for many a long year. Decided to go into town and get a few bits, and stopped in one of two local photography galleries to have a browse of the incredible photos on display. Having the Lakes on your doorstep must be quite amazing.

After walking out in a dishearteningly sombre mood, the profound feeling that I will never, ever be able to get images like those coursing through my troubled veins, I picked myself up with a visit to Booths, one of the finest shopping emporiums I believe has existed anywhere and at anytime, in the history of all worlds.

Well, maybe that’s a slight overstatement, but let me make it quite clear, this is a very fine supermarket. Very fine indeed. In fact I think it should be the template for all supermarkets across this land of ours, perfectly laid out, very keenly priced and a genuine pleasure to purchase life’s essentials from. I seem to remember that the last time I was here it was a tawdry dump, so whoever was responsible for such a positive sea change should deliver themselves a hearty pat on the back.

Ashness Jetty with Catbells behind

Lake District - Day 2

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As expected, woke up to a rather miserable morning, so didn’t rush out. After breakfast I headed over to the southern end of Derwentwater, to the boardwalk that traverses the marshy perimeter of that part of the lake, with a view to have a bit of a walk and take a few snaps. My ever present friend, the howling wind, accompanied me on my travels and did its very best to blow me from the boardwalk into the brackish water below. But it did not succeed, and I held strong in the face of such gusty disorder.

The sun began to make a few tentative appearances as I approached the western shoreline, so I stopped and pitched my tripod to enable some shots of the foreground lake with Catbells, one of the most popular fells around Derwentwater, rising grandly behind. I ended up staying there for quite a while waiting for the light to be compliant enough for me to get what I wanted, which was to be a recurring theme for quite a lot of the week.

Despite a wobbling tripod I managed to get an image with the sun dappling across the fells

Lake District - Day 1

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After travelling up to Keswick, in the Lake District the evening before, I was ready to get cracking first thing. Unfortunately the weather was acting rather belligerently, a dismal, funereal procession of unrelenting grey, shoving spluttering rain and pin sharp gales in the face of anyone who would be foolish enough to venture out. 

Needless to say, sunrise was off the cards. So with a heavy heart and modest relief, I hastened back to bed with a view to humoring my shameful laziness. So after a leisurely breakfast I headed out around 11.30, once the worst of the weather had sodded off. My first stop was Buttermere, in my view one of the prettier lakes in the area.

But wait I hear you shriek, Buttermere, is in fact a mere, not a lake, hence Buttermere. There is only one true lake in the Lake District, and that is Bassenthwaite Lake, the rest are either, meres, waters, or in the case of the smaller bodies, tarns. Yes, well done, you are absolutely correct to make that statement with the force and clarity it warranted. Now we have that settled, let us move on and never mention it again.

Once parked in the approved parking area at the northern tip of the mere, not lake (yes I lied, I will be mentioning it. A lot), I made my way to the nearest shoreline where I had a date with a rather scrawny tree. I had seen pictures of this particular specimen before, but never had the pleasure of its company. I was about to rectify that. 

The light was pretty flat so I have processed it with a toned monochrome
effect as the colours were nothing to write home about