Wordsworth walked these hallowed hills

They should have called this place the Hill, Forest, AND Lake District. Just Lake District doesn't accurately describe it, though the reputation that has preceded it has not been overstated. This place is stunningly beautiful, and as my camera still insists on only taking impressionistic pictures, I must do my best to describe it in word for you, and lock it into my memory for myself.

I arrived at the Hostel in Ambelside, right on Lake Windemere's edge at about 1:30 pm. I took no delay in simply stowing my backpack and setting out immediately with my journal, two books, and a letter. Though it is June, the weather still held a tinge of cool air especially when the breeze picked up, and I kept my fleece over my Irish training jersey, adjusting the sleeves and collar as necessary to keep cool or warm. This place, though still frequented by cars and travelers, has a simple serenity that accompanies its exciting beauty. Hills rise up all around with the three lakes tucked in between them, rivers connecting them and running through small forests and pockets of hearty greenery. I made my way around river bends, following stone fences, and listening to the sounds of a variety of birds and wildlife before the path turned upward around the backside of the hill. A variety of fern that I've seen in Scotland as well covered the hillsides in an orderly fashion, occasional stems of purple, bell-shaped flowers popping up in between while common yellow flowers added their accent. Short grass marked the paths that criss-crossed the hill tops, creating a patchwork of yellow-green fields. I marked a knoll that rose up and was sure that it would have a good view of the Lake. As I summited, the view exploded before me in a dramatic fashion that you only expect in films, but rarely receive in the real world. A breeze picked up, and I nestled myself behind a rock, using it as a shelter and seat, and read Worsdworth aloud to myself. He walked these hills and shores, and I can understand how such beauty inspired such poetry.

That night I walked out onto a pier. The town now quiet, the lake still, the scene was again one of rest and release. Flies danced through the air without any other reason to be there than to dance, for beyond that they were occasionally picked off by a sparrow, or fish which swam beneath my feet, popping up to grab a low-flying bug. The sky illuminated yellow-blue light from behind the hill upon which I sat only a few hours earlier. I felt my soul at peace moreso than it's been since the Northern cliffs of Ireland or the Aran Islands, which though not long ago were the most profoundly peaceful moments of my life. Having these repeated in a more recent nostalgia is quite the treat.

Today, I took the long walk up to the upper two lakes, walking a similar path and then branching off. My trail would take my towards Rydal Cave, but before arriving, an explosion of scenery, similar to the previous day's, would greet me at the second lake. More people were out at these hours, and many of us greeted each other, though some avoided eye contact. My first description accurately describes all of the lakes, there calm waters surrounded by emerald hills. Fishermen frequent the waters, and ducks nuzzle the shores, looking for food. I found Rydal Cave, but before that found another one, slightly hidden away before it. I had to climb a 10-foot slope to get in, and had only the orange AF light of my rebellious camera along with the occasional flash to see once I got further in. The main chamber had a small passage that broke to one side, down which light progressively ceased to shine. It was like a scene out of a horror movie where I would only be able to see beyond 5 feet with the occasional flash from the camera, and I wondered if I'd catch an sort of subterranean creatures in there as the cave looked not to have been entered in some time. I'm sure my parents will be thankful that the passageway opened into another chamber that did not appear to have any further entries deeper into the rock. A great time, nevertheless, was had by all (myself and any creatures who chose not to show themselves).

Rydal Cave was dissappointing as it was one giant chamber that used to be a quarry. I ignored the warning sign about falling slate to find this out. The one treat was that it had a large pool of water filling it that had fish swimming around and appeared to have the type of depths that house cave dwelling monsters, but again, no such luck. It appeared that there might be underwater channels going deeper in, but I was obviously not equipped to do any spelunking.

A note before I finish: It's weird being in England after first having gone to Scotland and England. I feel like I'm in hostile territory with Union Jacks and English accents surrounding me. It's going to be very interesting to see London and all of its history from an English perspective. I will be reading a great deal more on a lot of these matters when I return.

I've made my way back to Ambleside and tomorrow leave for Liverpool. I have only one week left on this incredible journey which means one week left of mixed feelings towards ending it. I'm looking forward to seeing friends and family, but I'll miss this concentrated dose of history, culture, and life lessons. Until next time.