Setting Off: The Lake District Beckons (Again)
Well, well, well… Day Nine of our Covid-era holiday, and we’re still not tired of nature. Miracles do happen! Today’s adventure? A wander through the woodlands of Grizedale Forest (#Ad) – that leafy corner of Cumbria nestled in the heart of the English Lake District (#Ad), teeming with tall trees, woodland sculptures, and the odd grumpy squirrel.
Now, I won’t lie to you – we didn’t exactly leap out of bed at the crack of dawn like excited spring lambs. This wasn’t one of those “up with the lark” affairs. No, no. More of a “let’s-have-a-cuppa-first” kind of morning. The plan was to drive up from our little home for a proper stroll through Grizedale’s many trails. Google Maps said 90 minutes. The M61/M6 combo should’ve been a doddle – just a straight zip north, off at Junction 38, and boom, we’re there.
But of course, this is the UK. Roadworks are as inevitable as drizzle at a barbecue. Somewhere near the A590, just before Sizergh (#Ad) (yes, that’s a real place and not someone sneezing mid-sentence), the traffic started crawling. Cones, flashing lights, men in hi-vis leaning on shovels – the full British roadwork ensemble. Still, spirits remained high, and the promise of fresh air and woodland vibes kept us going.
Parking Shenanigans: The Layby Letdown
Eventually, we rolled into Grizedale. Now, if you’ve never been before, you should know it’s quite the hotspot for outdoorsy types – hikers, bikers, tree-huggers, the lot. The main attraction is the Grizedale Visitor Centre, and, bless them, they’ve got plenty of parking. BUT – and it’s a big but – it’ll cost you.
Now, in the past, we’d been savvy (read: tight) and parked in a handy little layby just half a mile from the main car park. A brisk stroll and you’re there, smugly sipping your flasked coffee while everyone else queues for the pay machine. Alas, it seems the Forestry Commission have caught on to our cunning plan. The cheeky devils had only gone and plonked great big logs across the entrance. No free parking for us today. They must’ve had a meeting: “How can we extract an extra fiver from tourists in walking boots?” – and voilà.
So, off we trundled to the official car park, wallets in hand. To be fair, the pay station was quite civilised – you could pay online within 48 hours, which felt oddly futuristic for a forest in Cumbria. So we paid, felt mildly grumpy about it, and moved on with our day. Priorities: woodland, peace, and coffee – in that order.
Packing Coats, Debating Weather
Coats packed? Check. Whether we’d actually need them was another matter. The Lake District weather, as ever, was playing its usual game of “Will I or won’t I?”. A smattering of blue sky here, a few moody clouds there. Classic.
I stuffed our waterproofs into my trust Osprey Talon rucksack (#Ad) just in case the heavens decided to open. After all, we’ve learned not to trust a sunny start in these parts. But for the moment, all was calm. Time to find the elusive ‘White Markers’ – our route for the day.
The Walk: Upwards, Onwards, and Some Grumbles
We set off from the car park with optimism in our hearts and a spring in our step – for about 45 seconds. Then came the incline. A proper one. Not Everest, granted, but steep enough to trigger some vigorous commentary from Michele.
“I don’t like hills,” she muttered, loud enough for passing ferns to hear. Well, that was us told.
To be fair, it was a bit of a huff-and-puff start, but once we’d got those first few climbs out of the way, the path evened out into a gentler ascent through lovely forest tracks. Michele’s mood improved significantly at this point – as did the scenery. The air was crisp, the leaves rustled gently overhead, and there was even birdsong to accompany our journey like the soundtrack to a wholesome BBC nature documentary.
We weren’t exactly swamped by fellow walkers. Over the entire ramble we saw about three or four other couples and the odd cyclist zooming along the wider forest paths (#Ad). Just enough to remind you that you’re not entirely alone should you get lost or suddenly require emergency Kendal Mint Cake (#Ad).
Grizedale Tarn: The Forest’s Hidden Gem
Eventually, at the highest point of our walk, we stumbled upon Grizedale Tarn – a serene, silvery little lake tucked away in the trees. You’d be forgiven for thinking you were in a fairytale. It’s the only natural pool of water in the whole forest, and it’s rather charming.
No wild swimming for us, though – tempting as it was. Instead, we paused for a bit of reflection (and a flapjack), soaking up the peace before heading downhill. It was all downhill from there – literally, not metaphorically.
The return leg was a gentle descent, winding its way back toward the Visitor Centre. Our legs thanked us. Even Michele stopped muttering about hills and started humming along to whatever tune was stuck in her head.
Coffee and Sunbeams at the Visitor Centre
Back at the Visitor Centre, we found a table in the sunshine and treated ourselves to a well-earned coffee. It’s the little victories, isn’t it? There’s something about sipping coffee outdoors after a walk that makes it taste ten times better.
The sun had properly come out by now, and we basked like a pair of contented cats. No rush, no agenda – just enjoying the rare luxury of time and fresh air. Bliss.
Ambleside Adventures: Retail Therapy and Gin Sampling
Feeling thoroughly virtuous after our woodland jaunt, we hopped back in the car and made our way to Ambleside (#Ad) for a bit of late-afternoon mooching. Ambleside was buzzing. Not crowded, mind you – just that pleasant sort of busy where you’re part of a hum of activity, but you can still hear yourself think.
We wandered in and out of the independent shops, admiring all manner of quirky goods and outdoorsy gear. Michele, clearly still in a retail therapy mindset, treated herself to a new pair of rain boots. And not just any rain boots – these were stylish, robust, and apparently perfect for “future countryside chic”.
Then came the gin shop.
Now, if there’s a shop that offers free samples, it’s always dangerous. Especially when one of you isn’t driving. That one was Michele. And so, after a few “just little sips”, she chose a bottle of flavoured gin that I suspect was more down to tipsy enthusiasm than genuine connoisseurship. But hey, we’ve all been there. Meanwhile, I, the ever-dutiful designated driver, stood by like a sober chaperone.
Covid-Era Caution: Masks, Sanitiser and Sensible Spacing
It’s worth noting – because we’re still very much in the Covid-19 chapter of human history – that the shops in Ambleside were doing a cracking job with restrictions. Masks on, hand sanitiser at every entrance, and a general air of calm caution. Even the pubs seemed to have worked out how to keep things safe and sociable – not an easy task, let’s be honest.
The early evening sunshine brought people out onto the pavements and pub benches, and the whole town had that golden glow of a place doing its best under strange circumstances. It felt hopeful, somehow.
Homeward Bound: A Fishy Feast Awaits
Back home, weary but well-fed by nature, we were greeted by the delicious aroma of dinner already underway. Young Lewis had stepped up to chef duties and rustled up a fish dish served with sweet potato wedges. Proper effort, that. Michelin star? Perhaps not. But gold star for effort? Absolutely.
Josh, as per usual, was off gallivanting with his mate Rob and didn’t join us for tea. No surprise there. Teenage boys, eh? They operate on a mysterious timetable of their own.
Final Thoughts: A Grand Day Out
All in all, Day Nine was a resounding success. A scenic stroll through a beautiful forest, coffee in the sun, a bit of retail therapy (complete with gin), and a hearty meal to finish things off. The perfect balance of activity and leisure. And let’s face it, in a year where holidays have involved face masks and hand gel, you have to celebrate the little things.
Grizedale, you’ve been a delight. We’ll be back – though next time, we might try beating the roadworks and bagging the sneaky layby before they block it again.
