Lake District Inspires Poets and Stereotypes Alike

This is an article I wrote after getting back from the Lake District.


I wandered lonely as a cloud…with sheep following close behind. Suddenly we moved out of the cities, and into the wild English countryside.

This week we took a five day excursion to the renowned Lake District, the place where it is said there are more sheep than people. Majestic mountains checkered with stone-walled pastures and woolly sheep, filled the landscape: a perfect home for Romantic poets, bearded mountain men and English hippies.

These meres and fells were the famous poet Wordsworth’s backyard. He used to walk 30 miles a day, meandering over hills and mountains.

To the world, he was known for his inspirational poetry, but to those who knew him, for his “grapefruit sized calves.”

Our tour guide, Dr. Hogg, took us on our own little “fells walk.” Unfortunately, I did not realize until I was battling the snow on the side of a mountain, that a fells walk is British for “icy Everest assent.”

We were underdressed, overly exhausted, and our chipper guide with his tweed cap was an unstoppable machine. I was beginning to understand the grapefruit calves.

For all the trouble hiking up our mountain, the views made it worth the while.

Standing at the summit with nothing but rolling grasslands and distant lakes below was indescribable. I could picture, as the wind blew off the peaks, the famous scene from “Pride and Prejudice” as Elizabeth stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Lake District. The locals of these rural villages are quite a contrast to the southern bigger cities.

In Cambridge I feared being properly reprimanded for walking on the grass, but here there are no rules. If you wandered into a lakeside pub, you would find the same grizzly bearded locals relaxing by the fireplace.

Our rock climbing guide, with his long hair and crooked teeth, lived an incredible life. He explained, to the envy of some of our boys, that he worked long to save some money, and then takes off on some wild adventure.

I admired his carefree spirit, and his refusal to settle down in a desk job.

The differences in regions were refreshing. Not until I watched a rugby match, however, did I realize the fierce rivalry in the United Kingdom.

Apparently every country has its own stereotype. A friend we met in Hexham explained jokingly that the Irish are seen as stupid, the Welsh make love to sheep, southern Englanders are prudish with their “bowler hats and umbrellas” and the Scottish are grizzly mountain men with huge beards.

All in all, it is easy to see why this laid back district inspired the minds of Wordsworth, Coleridge and the other Romantics. If I don’t watch it, I may find myself wandering the fells, composing lines of poetry.