York to Keswick

Tuesday Morning.  We left York with two related destinations in mind: cross the line into Scotland so we can add that to our BeenThere list, stay 2-3 nights in the Lake District of NW England.  Looking at the map, I noticed that Lockerbie, site of the Libyan-sponsored bombing of a Pan American flight in 1988 that killed 270 people, was just north of the Lake District, so that became another reason to go to Scotland..

 

Partly because of the forecast of pm rain and partly to get to the scenic areas quickly, I set aside my resolve and we headed north on an expressway.  Soon got boring; then got tedious as we drove for about 20 slow miles in a highway construction area.  About the time Susie said, This is boring, (Susie learned this from her first graders) I spotted an exit for Richmond, identified as a Georgian Market Town, and took it.   

First we went through a mysterious town that I thought was Tunstall.  Mysterious because there were many large brick buildings surrounded by high fences with coiled barbed wire top and bottom.  Couldn’t tell if they were holding prisoners, protecting a military installation, or what.  I’ve read enough British spy novels to wonder if maybe it was one of those places where James Bonds sorts of gadgets are developed, or Russian deserters are interrogated.  I suppose we could have stopped and asked someone what’s going on here? but didn’t want to raise suspicions with my foreign accent.

(Update.  Never mind.  I googled and mapquested later and found out that we were driving through the Catterick Garrison, the largest British Army base in the world.)

Then we got to Richmond.  It was much larger than you expect from the size of its dot on the map.  We drove up and down some very steep hills to get through the town centre.  We did stop to look at the map to see where we were and where we might go.  The map showed a four-digit road going west, along the valley of the Swale River, paralleling the highway we would have been taking headed for the west side of the island, near the England-Scotland border.  Looked promising.

Turned out to be one of the neatest roads we have traveled: several villages and clusters of houses along the way, all built solidly out of the local limestone; rock-wall enclosed bright green pastures, with grazing sheep, cows, and horses; narrow bridges and narrow, rock-walled lanes where you occasionally had to alternate with oncoming traffic. 

Saw several farms with this configuration - stone house and barn facing each other across a small yard.

After a while the valley steepened and we climbed through a highlands landscape and crossed a high pass in what we found out was the Cumbria National Park.

Covered about 35 gorgeous, fascinating miles, I estimate.  So, we recommend, if you’re ever in northern England, take B6270 from Richmond to Kirkby Stephen.

Along the way we had two pub stops.  One for tea and coffee, but really for a toilet; one for lunch.  Lunch was at the Black Bull Inn in Nateby, near the west end of our ramble.  The young woman in charge there had an interesting story.  She and her husband had been in Nateby for just about six months.  Before that, they had lived in Spain for 15 years where her husband ran a car shop (she’s definitely British in origin, not Spanish; we didn’t meet the mister).  With the European economy in the tank, business was bad the last couple of years.  She said people would have work done, but they wouldn’t/couldn’t pay for it.  So, they closed the business, rented out their house, and found this pub in the north of England to run.  Talk about culture change.  She said it’s pretty here, but sure is cold.  They hope to return to Spain.  Here’s a Nateby picture.

During lunch it started to rain.  Because of the rain we decided to go find a place to stay in the Lake District and hope for better weather on Wednesday for us to make a side trip to Lockerbie.  Susie pretty well lets me decide our schedule, but she had said while we were in York, We are going to Scotland.  Case closed, but, particularly with Lockerbie in the news now, I feel it’s a place we should visit.

We headed for Keswick in the northern Lake District.  (Friends Dusty and Gay Blech, who have traveled often in England, named their son Kessick (which is how it’s pronounced) after the town.)  Even though the bank holiday was over, the town was full of people and traffic.

Following our Rick Steves guidebook, I was heading for a nearby valley where he had listed four farmhouse B and Bs.  Figured we had a better chance of finding a vacancy out in the country.  Also thought it would be neat to stay on a working farm – Susie might help shear the sheep. 

Took a while to find our way to and up the valley; there was some road construction and we had trouble following the detours (traffic diverts) around it.  Our diverted route bypassed the first farmstay, unbeknownst to us, and the second had no vacancies.  Not looking good for your travel planner.  Kept going, uphill, narrow road.  Saw the third one and pulled in.  This was the Gill Brow Farm, “where Anne Wilson rents two simple, but fine rooms,” Rick says, and with a two night stay and Rick’s book, we’d get a 10% discount!  Perfect.   As we pulled in by the back of the house, though, Susie said, I don’t like the looks of this. 

Let’s check, I said.  It had been a long day’s drive and I was ready to stop.  The front looked better. 

Anne showed us a room and we (I) took it and asked for two nights.  Bad choice, it turned out.  This is an old house and there’s been some settling and buckling.  Walking across our second-floor bedroom was something like being on the rolling deck of a ship.  Not a good location for Susie’s vertigo.  Also, we were far from town for amenities like dinner, particularly when you consider driving back in the dark. 

  I took a walk and took some farm pictures.

What happens when you cross a white sheep with a black sheep?

We had some crackers, peanut butter, and jam with us (smart thinking), so that was dinner.  Then we couldn’t get the shower to work – there’s a contraption on the shower wall that heats and sprays the water – at least it had at other places we stayed.  The knobs didn’t work here the way they should.  Rather than get Anne’s help, we decided we could go without.

Susie said, I can’t stay here another night.  I felt committed, but I didn’t relish the drive to and from Gill Brow, so after a little resistance, I agreed we’d leave in the morning.  After breakfast I told Anne we’d decided to move on.  No problem, but bye-bye discount.   Another factor in this wise decision was that, depending on how long the Lockerbie trip took, this gave us some other options, which didn’t include another crackers, peanut butter, and jelly dinner.

Wish I could say we slept well, all things considered, but we didn't.

Susie and Rob