We Arrive in Wasdale

We gradually trickled in to Wasdale, some coming on Wednesday if they could, in order to avoid the Easter crowds. Others waited until Maundy Thursday. Some came by train and taxi, others by car all the way from London or even from Cardiff. Wednesday evening was reasonably quiet, with some early birds arriving just before "candlelight". We started to hatch our main plans for our Easter break on the next morning.

Whichever way we looked, our base, the Wasdale Head Inn, was always framed by the mountains - in this north-east facing view, by Pillar on the left and Kirk Fell on the right.

The Journey

We all - as mentioned - took different routes, at different times, in coming to Wasdale. Some came on Wednesday, others on Thursday. I came on Wednesday by train via Carlisle, that being for me the most convenient and expeditious route. The Cumbrian coast line was scenic, with views on certain days, across to the Isle of Man. Buses from Seascale to Wasdale Head were a "once in a blue moon affair", if that. Hence the taxi was the only way - albeit a scenic way - to reach the Wasdale Head Inn, our base over Easter.

Sea and sky characterise the journey along the Cumbrian coast from Carlisle to Seascale.




The taxi ride into the mountains gives a nice introduction to the landscape which would be our home over our CLOG Easter break.

Our First Evening

Most of those coming on Wednesday were to arrive quite late and campers would be busy setting up their "houses" before sunset. Therefore, after the long journey, and sorting accommodation details, a quick evening snack in "Ritson's Bar" was called for. It would be possible to pop in again later to see who else had arrived.

The Wasdale Head Inn is cradled by the mountains, whichever way you look.

Getting to Know our Surroundings

Before candlelight, there was still time to familiarize ourselves with our surroundings to find out where the nearest footpaths were and also the names of our friendly neighbourhood mountains. Maybe also a chance of getting a few initial photos - "piccies" if you will.

This is something we do so well in England. This post box has been here, seemingly set in this dry-stone wall, since Queen Victoria's time. A few dollops of red paint every few years and the life of this post box just goes on and on.
Of course local horse transport reigned supreme in the 19th Century, and was used at the time to take the letters to the outside world via the Cumbrian Coast railway about 20 miles away.




Here's our Inn.




The mountains are alive with the orange glow of the evening.
A nice way to end the beginning of our Lakeland stay.