June 27, Kendal to Bowness-On-Windermere

 All my anxiety about walking from Kendal back to Burnside was for naught.  It turned out to be easy and very pretty; certainly not the way I came into town!  And I got to the official starting point by 6:00 a.m., about forty minutes before I would have had I taken the train.  Beating the train was a real John Henry moment (less than perfect analogy, but couldn't resist), but that is how I felt! 

This, the final stage of the Dales Way, was quite lovely, just like the rest minus that stage from Ribblehead to Sedbergh, which was either bog or asphalt. (A bit more about that later.)

Path flanked by gardens:

So, I am wondering: all those fire doors that had to be kept shut at the Riverside Hotel in Kendal....how does that work, exactly, I mean how to you then make it to some Fire Assembly Point?

Two beauties:

But now I must tell you the saddest thing.  There was a sheep with its leg caught in a railing.  I tried to free it, but  couldn't.  A few minutes later, I asked a few young people  headed that way if  they would try to do help (I had my doubts), but then a farmer kind of guy said he would go take a look.  Him I trusted.  I do hope he was able to free the poor thing.  It was very very sad.

On to more beautiful things:

How now......?

Moss covered stone wall:

River view:

When it comes to changing light bulbs, I do not do ladders:

Note: Hazards of stiles and gates: getting your fingers caught, getting stung by nettles, and pricked by thorns, and many other annoyances

By and by I met a man who asked if I was doing the Dales Way.  "Yes," I said.  "Beautiful, i'nt it," he replied. "Yes, indeed, except for bogs near Ribblehead." "Oh," he went on,"I did it a few years ago; it had rained a month in a day.  I was so covered in mud and wet that by the time I got to Sedbergh, I just couldn't pitch my tent, so I phoned the wife and told her to come and pick me up!" I had to confess that I do not camp to which he responded, "Same with the wife. Same with the wife."

Right near the end of route, was this sign:

And I ask, "What, exactly?"

Photo taken at the officially official end:

After one emerges from the last gate, one does not take the waiting car.  No.  One walks down a steep hill into Bowness-On-Windermere.

Lake Windermere and people upping and downing from and and to:

The residential section of Bowness.is reminiscent of Marin, say, Ross, but "downtown" Bowness is a real scene!  Mobbed, mobbed I tell you, street after street lined with shops and coffee houses, and well, you name it, and motorcycles, and cars, and busses.  Oh, hordes of people, like a swarm of locusts.  Where do they come from?  Windermere, as in the town, not the lake, is a couple of miles up a big hill.  It, too, has an active town centre but is nothing by comparison, probably because all the ferries leave from Bowness.  Anyway, I am staying at a divine B and B.  What a contrast to the Riverside in Kendal!  Beautiful room that looks out on a fabulous garden and the weather is just perfect.  Heaven!  Oh, and close to a Booths (high end grocery store), one of the reasons I chose this place!

Fresh flowers from the garden—see through window— in my room:

Ok, why not complain! The gorgeous room looking onto the garden is attached to the house in which the owners live and they blast the TV all day. Found a (partial) solution!  Airpods!