Cumbria

***Storyline:* *50 years later***

After visiting some of the places of my childhood, it was time to meet with my cousins, most of whom I hadn’t seen since I emigrated to Canada, and all but one still live in the area of Whitehaven, Cumbria. To get by train to Whitehaven – a small, formerly fishing, town on the north-west coast of England – from Manchester, the quickest way is to take the TransPennine Express north to Carlisle, then hop onto Northern Rail’s Cumbrian Coast milk run south-west for nine stops. Of course, we chose a different route. Not very different, and a little slower, but also more interesting for us.

We did take the TransPennine Express and the Cumbrian Coast line, but we changed at Lancaster and continued north and west on the milk run. This gave us a brief opportunity to see a bit of Lancaster then enjoy views of the Irish Sea, as the line hugs the coast for much of its path.

The TransPennine Express departs Manchester’s Piccadilly station frequently. In the early spring it’s a marginally interesting trip to our transfer station. There are a whole lot of grey, leafless trees and shrubs and lush green fields between drab built-up areas. Or maybe during our time in Manchester my eyes had forgotten to see any other colours.

As a child growing up in Manchester’s suburbs, I had always imagined Lancaster to be a more important metropolis as it was the County Town(capital) of Lancashire.

I never visited this town, and now realized that it’s a quaint, pretty place with an attractive castle overlooking the mainly stone-built buildings.

It would have been nice to spend more than the hour or so that we had.

For the first part of our next leg we traced the shoreline of Morecambe Bay, gliding through the low marshlands between Carnforth and Arnside before crossing the River Kent estuary and curling back south-west to Barrow-in-Furness.

Then it was up the coast, and for much of the time our views were of the Irish Sea, towards the Isle of Man. We passed some quite attractive areas before arriving at the Whitehaven station.

We were met by Richard and Nick, who helped us stretch our legs on a walk around Whitehaven harbour before heading to Nick’s house where we stayed during our visit.

That evening there was a big family get-together at cousin Cath’s place. We were greeted by my cousins and two more generations of relatives.

It was a wonderful warm welcome, indicative of the short time we would have in the area.

The next day we were given the grand tour of the area. I remember that most of our vacations as a child, at least from when I was old enough, were spent here in the Lake district or over to the northeast in Northumberland. We hiked from youth hostel to youth hostel. Often in somewhat, shall we say, inclement weather. Well this day and the others to follow were no different. But it was absolutely glorious to be back in the fells and by the lakes. While the weather remained typically wet, we for the most part remained dry and comfortable in our host’s car.

We visited Wastwater, with a view of famous Scafell Pike – the highest mountain in England (not, however, in the UK) and a favourite among fell walkers and hikers.

The next stop was Ravenglass back on the coast, for our planned excursion on the Ravenglass and Eskdale minimum gauge (15in / 914mm) railway, known locally as “La’al Ratty”. A one-way trip takes about 40 minutes. I had taken this trip once as a child and was eager to relive the experience. We grabbed a quick bite for lunch at the station then headed over to the train.

We were fortunate to be on a run drawn by one of the steam locomotives, and watched as it was shunted onto the turntable at the end of the track. The turntable was operated by a one-human powered pusher. Quite something to watch.

We selected an open-sided covered carriage (there are some fully open and some fully enclosed), and just as it began to rain again, we were on our way. It was a lovely journey but would have been much lovelier a little later in the season when the trees, shrubs and plants were in full leaf.

Our hosts had driven up the valley and met us at the Dalegarth terminus. We shook out our wet rain jackets and hopped into the car for a tour the area, crossing Hardknott Pass in a driving rain squall. I had to get out at the summit and take some photos though. For me, it was great to be out in the weather of my childhood – in the 1960s I had hiked nearby Honister Pass with my sister and parents in similar weather, and in clothing that these days would be considered unsuitable for such an undertaking. I couldn’t stop grinning. Diana, being saner, stayed safe and warm in the car.

After Hardknott we continued to wind around the countryside, enjoying the sights. We stopped at some standing stones, from prehistoric times, and walked around for a while between rain showers. The day ended with a few of us (20 or so!) having dinner at a local pub.

The following day, cousin Richard gave us the grand tour of the central Lake District. We bypassed Keswick as we’d stay there after leaving Whitehaven, then travelled down the A591, stopping here and there as the mood and views dictated.

At Thirlmere, a natural lake-turned-reservoir for Manchester we enjoyed the views of the Hellvellyn ridge to the east before moving on to Grasmere and enjoying a lunch in one of the tea shops.

Continuing south, we skirted Rydal Water before passing through Ambleside at the head of Windermere, England’s largest natural lake on our way to Bowness-on-Windermere about halfway down the 18km lake’s east coast.

Bowness is now primarily a tourist town, and one of the benefits of visiting in mid-April is that it’s not totally overrun. There are hundreds of waterfowl – swans, ducks, geese, gulls, pigeons (ok, pigeons are not waterfowl), etc. – hanging around the lake shore looking for handouts and providing photo opportunities in return.

One can also hop onto the lake’s tour boats here, or rent a rowboat and get a bit of exercise. We passed on these opportunities, for while Richard’s driving is exemplary, we still had to consider Diana’s propensity for motion sickness. (Oh, come-on Alex, we took a boat the next day! D)

We wandered around the town, past the Beatrix Potter (author of Peter Rabbit and many other books) attraction, enjoying the old stone buildings on this temporarily sunny afternoon.

Kirkstone pass, at 454 metres was our last stop for the day.

The Kirkstone Pass Inn near the summit is a 15th century gem, and is the third highest public house (pub) in England, there was a nice fire to sit beside while we drank small shandys (radlers in Germany and elsewhere) to toast the day before heading back for a quiet evening and preparing for our move to Keswick the following day.