The Lake District of England

We stepped off the boat in Dublin before 6:45 on Thursday morning...always a fun event since Eddie’s best hours are after 10:00 in morning...do the math.  As I had eluded to in my last post, Thursday would be a long day of multiple types of transportation.  After a drive to Dublin’s ultra modern airport...everything from the Burger King to the baggage checking/weighting at AerLingus was totally automated.  Thank goodness the signs were in English with pictures and red/green lights...we waited for our Gate assignment over breakfast, then followed the signs.  Kinda like parts of old Terminal B at IAH, where you go to a central boarding area then shuttle to the tarmac and climb the steps...no jet way.  You purchase your seat assignment (up charge) and checked baggage (huge upcharge unless you prepay via a call center in Mumbai-never my favorite way to spend 45 minutes).  Being aware of the Admiral’s aversion to long lines and waiting, I selected Seat 2A &C, front of the bus kinda of thing.  Imagine my surprise/horror when we arrived on the tarmac next to our plane, with the rear steps down (so much for preplanning)  and not jet engines, but extremely old school propellers.  Yikes!  I guess I won’t have to worry about Max8 issues....coastal birds...you betcha.  I am trying to remember the last time I was on a true prop plane...I think it was in Mississippi, with two kids in diapers...so at least 33 years...Eddie’s eyes even bugged a little and he muttered 40-50 years old....and he likes to fly.  I know the English/Irish/Scots tend to hang on to things, but really?  So, with prop noises, and me praying continually for the 45 minutes flight to Manchester, it was a no talking kind of morning. Did I mention I am a white knuckle flyer.... Off the plane, boogie bus to terminal, random passport check by the local agents (no formal customs checking),retrieve the bags and find the next car and driver.  Found the driver, lost the Man Child.  He had not heard the “stay here”.  So, driver and Karen locate man Child and we are off for a 90 minute drive to the Northwestern corner/district of England.  In 1951, the 900 miles and 5,500 miles (real number, not my upgrade) of stone fences, the fells, valleys and mountains of this area were declare a National Park.  While that designation in this area does not mean totally frozen in time,  it means that it is preserved in a way that does not wipe out a way of life that has existed since the Stone Age.  Yeah, there are lots of circles of rock (Stonehenge, like), Roman Forts, roads, walls (Hadrian is a big one), pubs, homes and farms that look pretty much as they did in the 15th century...all surrounded by some of the most picturesque mountains, lakes, grass lands and landscape.  It is like we stepped back in time for sure.  We have visited our share of quaint English town and villages in past travel, but this is like a country of its own that is totally that way....More sheep than people, a couple of castles and cows or two thrown in for good measure.  We spent Friday exploring the highlands (mountain tops and valleys) and today we see the rest of the Lakes.  We are staying at a lovely hotel/former big home on Lake Windermere-The Belfeld.  Unlike Lake Houston, it is 220 feet deep and carved in between mountains.  Unlike Iceland there are trees, grasslands and flowers galore.  The roads are narrow and extremely winding, so I have given my butt muscles a good work out.  I am sure we will complete our pub crawl before leaving...without the car.