This van looked comfy enough from the outside, but each seat was like a rock. The headrests were too high for any normal-sized person and angled forward, causing those of us of average height to either sit with our necks either slightly forward or scrunched down so as to be relatively upright. Yet after an all nighter sleep was the only thing on our minds. So sleep we did, awkwardly as it was, and woke up almost as nonplussed as if we had just stayed awake.
The first stop on our trip was Kenilworth Castle. This massive ruin of red stone used to be the palace of Robert Dudley, 'lover' of Queen Elizabeth I. It was wrecked during the civil war and was never rebuilt. It was beautiful though, with great open areas of grass that had once been the halls of the aristocracy. The wind was on full-blast however, and promptly froze our hands, urging us to move on.
We re-boarded the now dreaded vans to continue our journey. A few more hours and a gradually increasing lumpy landscape later we arrive in Keswick. Keswick is a small town in the Lake District chock-full of B&B's and sports-wear shops. The main stretch was very quaint and the surrounding countryside just gorgeous. It is very hilly and there are a few 'mountains,' which a friend and I re-dubbed 'hillmounts,' to reflect their status a little better.
After a relaxing night enjoying each other's company and a real bed rather than a cold window, we wake up to the best showers since arriving in England. The water pressure is almost too high and the water a constant temperature of steamy warmth. A few of us from my house met for coffee and ended up with the beginning of "Cake Day." We found a cute little bakery with all manners of sugary, buttery goodness and decided to bring a few back to the house to enjoy. A few cups of coffee and tea later, we all take naps.
The rain we had trudged through that morning was still going when we piled back into the vans to go see Wordsworth's most inspirational dwelling, Dove Cottage. It is a small, dark place on the inside and bright and cheery on the outside, despite the continuous drenching. There was a planned hike afterwards which I skipped on the grounds of keeping my camera dry and myself pneumonia free. Those who did go came back completely soaked yet with stories of how awesome the flooded trails were. I opted for another nap and felt completely satisfied with my decision.
After another night of good food and good company it is Sunday morning, appropriately sunny and warm. We attend an Anglican service and then retire back to the houses for lunch and. . .naps. Then it is time for a ferry ride across the lake and a quick walk through the country and back to town. Well, the ferry ride was quick, but the walk was not. It turns out it was really a hike of 7 miles and a few hours. But it was beautiful; there were sheep and a waterfall, stone cottages and emerald glens. It was also a good warm-up round for the next day.
I woke up early on Monday morning to join 6 other people for a hike up the third tallest peak in Britain, Helvellyn. This post would be even longer if I went into the type of detail needed to describe my experience hiking. So let me just say that it was amazing, stunning, heart warming and wrenching, rejuvenating, a test of endurance, windy, gorgeous and the best use of a vacation day I have ever had. There is no option on the top of a mountain but to feel absolutely alive and blessed by nature and God. I wasn't as sore as I thought I was going to be, thanks to the hike the day before, the Dorchester hike the week before, the everyday Oxford walking and a summer of climbing.
We left Tuesday morning on the terrible buses and adjusted a little better to sleeping on this time. The weekend wasn't as restful as I thought it was going to be, but was certainly wonderful and worth it. (Pictures may or may not be following.)
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