Day 2, Part 1 – Sunday 12th May 2024
In my previous post, I shared how my first day alone in the beautiful Lake District was a success, even with a few challenges along the way.
Determined to make the most of my first full day, I planned to get up bright and early to spend Sunday morning following a trail from a book of local walks. So by 7 a.m., I was ready to leave the guest house.
The walk began with a left turn straight out of the house and up Thornbarrow Road, which eventually led me off the pavement and onto a steep incline along stony paths through the countryside. As I climbed higher, the views each time I turned around were breathtaking. It was a beautifully sunny, slightly hazy morning, probably around 16°C, with not a soul in sight. The trees swayed gently in the wind, and the birds were singing. I remember stopping at one point on a footpath to take it all in—a moment to truly soak up the peace and beauty around me. Moments like that stay with me forever. I can take myself back there anytime and never forget how calm and peaceful it felt. As I walked, one thought kept circling my mind: I still can’t believe I’m actually here. It was like it hadn’t quite sunk in yet.
The trail continued on a steep incline, and after a while, my fitness level started to show—I was feeling a bit out of puff! I hadn’t had any breakfast or brought any snacks with me either, which turned out to be a lesson learnt for the future. Food equals energy! At the time, I thought that since the walk wasn’t too long (around 2 miles), I’d just grab something to eat in one of the towns later. I didn’t think much of it at the time.
I followed the directions in the booklet until I got to an instruction that said to walk through a gap in the wall at a certain point. After a minute or two of looking around and realising there were no walls, I retraced my steps to see if I’d missed it and even walked a bit further to try and find it. Eventually, I realised I must have gone wrong somewhere. The booklet was quite old, and the more I tried to read and make sense of the directions, the more confused I became. Accepting that I wasn’t going to get any further with the book, I turned to my phone for help.
Initially, I wasn’t sure what to do. Last night’s walk to Orrest Head had been well way-marked, with an easy path to follow. Before that, I’d only ever done one big hike—and that was with my partner. During our visit to Wales in 2023, we walked the horseshoe route to climb Pen Y Fan, and he led the way. At this point, I wasn’t familiar with the various apps and online resources, like OS Maps, that offer accurate guidance for reaching your destination. (In hindsight, it’s clear I hadn’t done enough research!) I really didn’t want to turn back, though—I wanted to keep going. So, I typed Brant Fell into Google Maps. From what I could see, it provided clear walking directions along the roads, with a dotted line showing where I’d need to make my own way from the last point on the road, across a field, and onto the fell.
I continued on, following the directions. I had about 100 yards left to walk, and for a while, I’d been able to see Brant Fell high in the distance, so I felt close. I passed fields, some with footpath signs directing off the road into the fields. Google Maps, however, told me to keep walking, so I did. When the directions ended, I found myself at the end of a road. There was no longer any pavement, and no way into the fields around me—they were fenced off. This is strange, I thought. It says I’m here, but I can’t go any further?! I knew I’d have to find my own way from here. I could see the fell; I just needed to get across these fields. I retraced my steps a little until I spotted a small opening into a field, overgrown with heather, bracken, and fallen trees. It didn’t look the most inviting, but again, I thought if I could just get across to the other side, I should be alright!
I made my way across a slightly dodgy ‘bridge’ of rocks and branches over the ditch from the road and squeezed through a tiny gap into the field. I navigated around hordes of stinging nettles, stumbling over rocks and stones hidden under the heather, and climbed over an enormous fallen tree trunk. I finally made it to the other side of the field, but unfortunately, there was no way to get any further. The fell was in sight, but in between was a ditch full of nettles, thorns, and bushes, with a fence above the ditch that, even if I could cross, I knew I wouldn’t be able to climb.
Frustrated with myself for getting this walk so wrong, I turned around to head back. I climbed over the tree trunk again (there was no way around it without landing in nettles or thorn bushes!) and slowly made my way back down the field, trying not to trip over the rocky ground beneath me. I attempted to retrace my steps, but the field was so overgrown I couldn’t get my bearings and kept going in circles.
It was fenced all around, and the small opening I’d used to get in was the only way in or out. At first, I couldn’t see it. I panicked a bit, feeling disoriented, but eventually, I found the opening and scrambled back down to the road. Thank God for that.
What an idiot, I thought to myself, shaking my head. I felt deflated as I started to walk back down the road the way I’d come.
As I was walking back down the road, one of the footpath signs I had passed earlier came into view. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that when I reached the end of the road and turn back to see where they led to instead of climbing into the uninviting field? It was as if, in my confusion, I just couldn’t think straight about what to do.
I followed the direction of the sign, which led into another field. Almost immediately, I found myself on a very obvious, wide footpath, which I could tell right away was the right one. After around 10 minutes the path started to wind along the bottom of the fell. Finally!
I made it to the summit around 9am. From the top, the lake and both towns of Bowness and Windermere were visible in the distance. I stayed for ages, soaking it all in and capturing some pictures and videos. I had a brief chat with a couple of people—just the usual ‘good morning’ and comments about the beautiful views. It was nice to share the appreciation of it all with like-minded people.
After about 45 minutes, I decided to leave. I had seen a few people walking in the opposite direction to the way I came, and I noticed a footpath leading toward a wooded area, in the direction of Bowness. I decided to follow it and find something to eat in Bowness. The path was fairly easy to follow. At one point, the path forked, and I wasn’t sure which way to go, so I asked a couple walking towards me with a dog. They had just come from Bowness, so I thanked them and continued on, eventually coming out at the very top of the town.
I came across a lakeview restaurant I had noticed the day before. When I’d seen it yesterday, it was packed, clearly a very popular spot. This morning, however, it was mostly empty. How lovely it would be to sit and have breakfast with a lake view, I thought. But then, ordering and sitting alone… Could I do that? I hesitated for a few seconds, and nearly walked past before thinking, fuck it, come on what have I got to lose? I walked in and immediately felt uncomfortable again. My hands grew sweaty, and I felt nervous. I approached the bar and asked, “I haven’t been in before—do I order at the bar or wait at a table?” The lady was kind and explained that I needed to find a table, take a menu, and then return to the bar to order with my table number.
I grabbed a menu and chose a table outside. I made sure it was away from where most people were sitting as I felt self-conscious, but still offering a lovely view of the lake.
When I was ready, I went up to order and then settled back at my table with my coffee and orange juice while I waited for my breakfast. I felt glad to finally sit down for a proper meal. The view over the town and lake was beautiful, the sun was shining, and after the morning’s activities and mishaps, it was nice to rest my legs and reflect on the day so far.
As I waited for my food, a few more people arrived at the restaurant. I put my sunglasses on, feeling a bit self-conscious sitting alone. But as I watched everyone walk by, not a single person looked at me. Nobody cares that I’m here by myself, I thought. Nobody thinks I’m sad or a ‘loner’. I just need to be in the moment and enjoy myself instead of constantly worrying about things unnecessarily. Which, if you are an overthinker like me, you will know is a lot easier said than done.
These thoughts were comforting. It felt good to push past my anxieties and worries. If I listened to the thoughts in my head that made me second-guess every decision, I’d never do anything!
Breakfast arrived, and I enjoyed every mouthful before heading out to wander into the town. Even though I was technically on ‘holiday,’ I’m not the type to sit around sunbathing or doing nothing. I like to stay busy and see as much as I can. I found myself back at the ticket booths for the lake cruises and thought I might take the one heading north up the lake to Ambleside. After doing the smaller tour the day before, I felt more confident about jumping on a longer cruise without much hesitation. I checked the boards and figured out I could catch a cruise to Ambleside, spend a couple of hours there, and then hop on a boat later to come back.
I bought my ticket, boarded the boat, and got off in Ambleside. It was about a 15-minute walk from the lakeside to the town, where I spent a while browsing through bookshops and independent stores. Once I’d explored all of Ambleside, I caught the boat back, picking up some postcards and keyrings at the gift shop along the way. On the return journey, the reality of being here and what it meant to me, hit me and I suddenly felt exhilarated. I sat on the top deck, plugged in my headphones to block out the noise of the boat and people around me, and put on my favourite spotify playlist. I zoned out, watching the little boats we passed, full of happy people waving and smiling. I admired the mountain ranges in the distance—so much beauty in one place. At one point, I took a photo of myself, which I’ll insert at the bottom of this post. Later, my little sister laughed when she saw the picture, joking that I didn’t look very happy. But ironically, it’s the opposite. I took that photo to capture how I felt in that moment—on top of the world. Every time I look at it, I can remember that feeling as clear as day.
I never could have imagined that the same person who once needed someone to go with them everywhere, even just a local day out, would end up here, alone, halfway across the country, in a place so beautiful that I hadn’t even known existed in my 29 years. And I was happy. I wasn’t lonely, nor wishing I had someone with me. I didn’t feel like going home in the middle of the trip, which I had thought might happen, nor did I feel fed up—even when I struggled with confidence or made a mistake. As long as I got through it and came out the other side, I was fine. I felt proud and content. Yes, that’s it—content. It was a feeling I think I truly experienced for the first time in my life, which, after 29 years, is quite something. There’s nothing quite like it.
I’m going to leave this one here, the second part of this day will be in my next post!
Thank you for reading! Reliving this trip through the blog has been quite a journey so far. It’s made me realise how much I didn’t know at the time, and there are definitely many things I’d do differently now—starting with doing more research so I don’t make silly mistakes! But, for the most part, making mistakes is how you learn in life.
If you’ve been inspired by my journey and are thinking about starting your own solo adventures, my ebook, Alone But Never Lonely: A Beginner’s Guide to Solo Adventures, is here to help. It’s packed with tips and insights to guide you on your path to self-discovery. To make your planning even easier, check out my Trip Planners and Solo Day Out Planner – designed to help you create unforgettable solo experiences. You can access the shop easily through the menu at the top of the page!”
