A Weekend Romp in the Lake District: A Tale of Friends, Frolics, and Fells
Hello Again, Blogosphere! The Cleary Chronicles Resurface
Well, slap my blogging hand and call me rusty; it’s been a whopping 15 months since I last graced this digital haven with my musings. Life in the Cleary camp has been a whirlwind since we last rendezvoused in the windy city of Chicago back in May 2016. Family shenanigans and a couple of plot twists later, here I am, dusting off the keyboard to regale you with tales from a weekend escapade in the picturesque Lake District.
A Call from the Bray’s: Coniston Beckons
Enter our pals (friends or family?) Warren and Dawn—long lost in the abyss of American holidays. The stars aligned, and they beckoned us to join their motorhome fiesta in Coniston, nestled in the heart of the Lake District. The idea of a weekend getaway with old pals? Irresistible.
Slow and Steady Wins the Road Trip Race
Saturday morning arrived, fashionably late as any good weekend should. The M61 and M6 became our asphalt companions as we cruised toward the Lake District, doggedly tailing the motorhome at a steady 65mph. Because, let’s face it, life’s too short to rush to the destination.
Coniston Park Coppice Caravan Club: Where Awning Magic Happens
Rolling into Coniston Park Coppice Caravan Club Site Park Gate (say that three times fast), we set up camp by 12:30 pm. Swift as a caffeinated squirrel, we were checked in, unpacked, awning attached, and mugs of brew in hand. Efficiency is our middle name.
Sun Chasing and BBQ Bliss: A Lazy Afternoon Unfolds
Michele and Dawn, the dynamic duo, engaged in a riveting game of musical chairs, courtesy of the sun’s erratic dance across the sky. Meanwhile, the gents, Warren and I, took charge of the BBQ, demonstrating our culinary prowess. Beers flowed like poetry, and the late lunch turned early evening feast was a testament to our gourmet camping skills.
Pub-hopping in Coniston: A Thirst-Quenching Odyssey
With bellies content, we ventured into Coniston for a tipple or two. First port of call—the aptly named The Sun, followed by a pilgrimage to the Black Bull, boasting a pint of bitter from the Coniston Brewing Company. A Lake District mandate: try a pint from these maestros if you find yourself in the vicinity.
Back at the motorhome, under the stars and fueled by a bottle of red, we spun tales until the night whispered for us to hit the hay.
Old Man of Coniston: A Morning Jaunt for the Brave
Warren and I, the brave souls, bid adieu to our slumbering counterparts to conquer the Old Man of Coniston. With boots laced and determination in our eyes, we hit the trail at an ungodly 7:45 am. A 6.35-mile ascent, spanning just over four hours and a triumphant climb of 2276 feet—all before the rain decided to gatecrash our alpine party.
Ambleside Afternoon: Of Lunch, Laughter, and Homeward Bound Blues
After our triumph over Coniston’s elder statesman, we whisked the girls off to Ambleside for a delightful lunch, because conquering peaks builds quite the appetite. With bellies full and hearts lighter, we reluctantly pointed the compass homeward.
