Y ou’d be forgiven, as a visitor to the Lake District, for imagining that the governing attractions are daffodils, Grasmere gingerbread, Herdy (the bleating fell-side variety and the brand), mountain watercolours and lake steamers. So fixed have these associations become with the region that it’s now the victim of its own twee, commercial image. Millions of tourists tromp the same routes each year, seeking out waterside and lookout points, and bagging famous peaks.
Queues at Sarah Nelson’s Grasmere Gingerbread stretch round the cottage bakery and past Wordsworth’s grave. Wainwright’s ridges become polished with footfall; the roads into the national park jam with holiday traffic. There’s even speculation that the now horribly polluted Windermere will be shut this summer.
As a native of Cumbria, I can vouch for the awe of its landscapes and the sublimity of its Romantic image. Despite the overcrowding and misconception of what was originally a radical artistic vision, the version of the Lakes hawked to tourists isn’t necessarily bad or boring. But the county has more to offer than the usual conveyor of sightseeing, the same old beauty spots, and doily-strewn tea rooms.
It’s not simply a pleasure and leisure ground that requires weekend-warrior uniform and paddleboards. For those willing to think outside the box of trinkets, there are lesser-known and more interesting alternatives; many relating to the region’s hidden history and its contemporary working practi.