The Hindu Business Line : For the walk-aholic

Known as a market for local cheese in the middle ages, Keswick later flourished as a mining town (it’s home to the first graphite pencil) and today it’s a round-the-year destination for those walk-a-holics who come here to soak in its scenic beauty, ambling its rolling fields and meadows — just as Coleridge and Wordsworth, Turner and Constable did.

The origins of this amazing countryside lie in the Ice Age when glacial erosion shaped the landscape, creating its array of mountains, valleys and lakes.

On the shores of Derwentwater, perhaps the most picturesque lake of the Lake District, this small town retains its traditional aura in its paved marketplace with the quaint Moot Hall, once the civic centre and now the tourist information office, from where, armed with ‘walking literature’, we decide on a couple of hikes…

Mysterious circle

With brollies to ward off the quintessential British drizzle we headed out of Pictairn House (our bed-and-breakfast place) for the 6-km walk through town and countryside. Picking up fresh pastries and warm, just-made fudge from Market Square, we stopped a bit at the Church of St John, an edifice of soft pink sandstone in the Old English style, with its extraordinary stained glass panels. Then, we went past Spring’s Farm through a wicket gate, up the woods and along Springs Ghyll, a brook that chatters over stones and boulders, to stand and gaze at the vast stretch of Derwentwater. The farmlands around and the emerald fells (hills) dotted with herds of woolly white-faced sheep paint an idyllic picture — not quite different from the time of the Norse settlers in the 10th Century.

Crossing the stream over a wooden bridge, onto narrow paths that crisscross the countryside meandering by walls and fences, over stiles into more fields and incredible views of Skiddaw and Blencathra massifs, we walk on to reach Castlerigg Stone Circle believed to be here since the late Neolithic period. From afar the boulders look like fossilised men — a story furthered by local legends that aver that these are humans petrified into stone as punishment. There are conjectures aplenty. It could have been be a spot for rituals, communal get-togethers, a trading site, an observatory. But that aside, no one really knows why the circle is there.

All I do know is that in the russet rays of the setting sun the sight is magical.

Walla Crag and Ashness Bridge

Stone circle at Castlerigg.

This being a longer hike, we start early. Back to Springs Farm where we take the fork to the right over a footbridge, from where it’s a climb up the hill with a torrent rushing down the narrow gorge to our left, through open pastures to reach Wella Crag. On flatland now we walk amid the bracken, the large ferns that cover the fells here, our shoes squishing in the wet and slushy trail.

Along a stone wall and over a stone stile, it’s a scramble to the top amid stretches of purple saxifrage spread densely like a carpet over rocks and boulders to get glorious views of Keswick and the lake. We can glimpse the Grange too… farmlands where the Cistercian monks grew oats and barley in the 12th Century.

Turning away, we descend to a cairn (pile of stones). Beyond them the trail descends steeply. With cautious steps we tackle the rather indistinct track that leads to Ashness Bridge, a sturdy overpass from the time when pack horse caravans set off to the cities loaded with the region’s famed woollen produce.

As I take in the scenery I can picture them in my mind...

To catch the road from the bridge, we cut across the slope to get on to the steps that reach us to the Lakeshore. The path by the water is submerged so we walk just above it through the trees by the lake and up again, past beautiful local homes and grazing grounds into the woods, and again through farms and undulating meadows back to the lake, just in time to catch the ferry to Keswick to gorge on tea loaf, rum butter and a large pot of hot tea.

Lanty’s Tarn

This walk is near Ullswater, which is just under an hour’s drive from Keswick. It was during his walks along the shores of Ullswater that Wordsworth was mesmerised by ‘a crowd, host of golden daffodils’. It’s not spring, yet I can close my eyes and imagine the flowers, “tossing their heads in sprightly dance”.

Lanty’s Tarn is a small mountain lake set in sylvan surroundings on the lower slopes of Birkhouse Moor, a high ridge that opens onto a plateau.

What intrigued me was the rather unusual name. Who was Lanty and was there something to the tarn? Did it hide any secrets? According to some, Lanty was an exceptional distiller, others believed he was a smuggler of sorts. One gentleman handed out a more banal explanation… “Lanty’s just a short form of Lancelot,” he said, “but the tarn… I’m told there’s an underground cellar below the dam there, which could have been used to store the ice for use through the summer…”

To get to Lanty’s Tarn we park at Glenridding village, stroll up the main road, crossing Glenridding beck, its dark waters flowing serenely by. Then turning towards the mountains, catch the bridle path across a cluster of cottages to their far end, and ascend the steep tree-lined slope behind.

Passing through a swing gate, it’s uphill once again — the footpath zig-zagging across the hillside, where just before the tarn we take a detour that leads to Keldas, a hillock from where we get stupendous vistas of Ullswater and the surrounding fells. Back on track, it’s the lake that surprises… a small delightful stretch mirroring in its waters the Scots Pines that surround it.

I could sit here, and simply gaze…