The Ambassadors of Nature

We were walking in the wild part of a forest when we met a woman at a crossroad. She asked for directions and soon we fell into conversation about walks, nature and places.

She’d just finished an outstanding week’s holiday in England. An English friend had introduced her to The Lake District. Let me put it this way: The Lake District had got one more ambassador.

London is the only place I have visited in England. But one of my favorite books as a child was The Swallows and the Amazons by Arthur Ransome.

A few years ago I learned by chance that the stories weren’t only fiction, but some part had their origins in reality. Windermere and Coniston Water in Lake District were the focal point.

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George Kitching owns Lakeland Walking Tales. If you miss inspiration for an exciting hike in The Lake District, then you will not go in vain on Lakeland Walking Tales

Mei shows her love for photography, travel, and hiking through her blog: Mei Photo Images. Jewels Of The English Lake District is a wonderful tribute to The Lake District.

Mike never miss a chance to go for a walk including glacier walking depending on what country he is in. Luckily, I can show you excellent pictures of Lake Windermere because Mike’s wife, Jude, loves sailing. Mike calls his blog: A Little Bit Out of Focus.

Steve Foster takes us around Buttermere Lake. Another wonderful place in Lake District. Steve calls his blog: Treks and Tors.

Take pleasure in finding your own paths and leave only your footprints behind.
Happy walks 😍

Nature has many dramatic expressions from wonderfully mild summer weather to storm and thunder that roars between the mountain walls. I chose these lovely paintings on Wikimedia. Details coming up soon!

‘Coniston Water’ by Painter and illustrator, Harold Sutton Palmer.
Pearson C. – Watercolor – Landscape in the Lakes district 1867
Julius Caesar Ibbetson Lake Windermere Google Art Project
Grasmere Lake.
Alfred de Bréanski Snr. – Borrowdale
Skiddaw from Derwentwater by Richard Corbould
Henry Clarence Whaite Mountain mist, sun rise (Lake District)

Note

“Swallows and Amazons is a series of children’s books by the English writer Arthur Ransome. The series is named after the title of the first book in the series. The 12 books are about the adventures by groups of children during school holidays. Events mostly take place in England and Scotland between the World War I and World War II. The stories usually are about outdoor activities, especially camping, fishing and sailing.” * Wikipedia

Two Friends on an Outing

Per Thomsen, former editor-in-chief on Stavanger Aftenblad wrote this humorous subtle story about the mysteries of a wilderness:

“The trip to Svartvatnet was a battled experience and we were too puzzled to write anything before today.

Only now, are we able to see the comedy in it but there was nothing to laugh at, while it lasted.

On the way home, I slipped over a small grass shelf, and fell about a quarter of a meter.

My right foot went down into a hole between some moss-covered rocks. The foot was helplessly stuck. I tried to slide and tail and wiggle, but without any luck.

My friend Tore, became impatient. He tried in his way, which by the way was quite similar to my own. It made no difference and I said I would rather try myself.

Unfortunately, the foot had gotten so far down the hole that I couldn’t get the boot tied up, nor could I get a knife down and cut the boot up.

Tore tried once with the knife, but I said that if I wanted my foot amputated, I would rather have a doctor.

Then we tried to get the stones away, but unfortunately it was Mother Norway herself, and after an hour of clearing work, we made no progress.


It was completely idiotic. I was not injured. I had managed to get my foot down the hole. Therefore, the hole was also large enough for it to come up again.

I could feel that the foot wasn’t sprained. Therefore, it was not likely to be swelled. So why couldn’t it come up again?

Both Tore and I asked this question, to each other and to the world in general, to the Lord, and we made a series of highly derogatory remarks about the way the world is governed.

We stated that we found the case extremely funny the first five minutes, but now it was enough.

Of course the rain started to fall. The question came up if Tore should go for help?

It sounds good: ‘Go for help, when an accident occurs in the mountains.’

But how can the rescuer help. There are no reports of that!

While we were wondering about this, Tore thought very sensible that we needed to relax.

Whereupon we sat for half an hour, eating and smoking, pretending as if we had just sat down voluntarily.

The view wasn’t so bad, it stopped raining and the sun came out. We agreed that we had a holiday.

We told each other stories. Occasionally I jerked my foot, but it did not come loose, and I pretended not to have done so. Tore said I should leave it alone.

It could be, it slept eventually, and we might cheat it to come along.

But even though we both seemed cheerful and indifferent, we didn’t like it.

Did the foot sleep? I do not know, but at first Tore fell asleep, and shortly after I fell asleep too.

We don’t know for how long. But suddenly I was awakened by Tore who looked incredibly sleepy while he muttered; we’d better go home.

I gathered the fishing pole and the backpack and off we went.

We had been walking for at least five minutes before I remembered that the foot was actually stuck.

I was filled with an indefinable and strange feeling. The same was Tore when he remembered.
But then we reassured each other that the spirit had triumphed over matter, and we proceeded home, extremely carefully and cautiously.

Such experiences affect us, especially when we can give no explanation for them. We went to bed without many words. But today we think the story is really funny. ”

“As soon as I saw you I knew a grand adventure was about to happen.”
~ A.A. Milne

When the storm rages …

When the weather pulls up to a storm, and dark clouds colours huge mountains in black, where would you go to?

Part of the river at Hellesylt, Søndmør
Artist: Knud Knudsen
Photograph. Dated: 1881