“The horse road also, along the western side of the lake, under Loughrigg fell, as before mentioned, does justice to the beauties of this small mere, of which the Traveller who keeps the high road is not aware.” William Wordsworth.
It’s true and this is what he is talking about. This view must have been intimately familiar to him. No doubt he would recognise this image and where it was taken in an instant. A couple of miles to my left is Dove Cottage and a mile or two to my right is Rydal Mount. Both of which provided the homes to the Wordsworth’s for most of their time in the Lakes. For sure, every inch of this shoreline will have been well trampled by the Wordsworth’s.
It’s time for breakfast. I’ve been up for a while. Actually, I couldn’t sleep. The thing about early starts, fresh air and exploring the “delightful rambles over every part Loughrigg Fell” (William Wordsworth) is that it really brings on the appetite.
My inspiration for this comes from watching a Keith Floyd cooking sketch in the mountains of Spain. I forgot to bring either the book or the video with me on this road trip and, so, I’m making this up as I go along.
I’m using pre-cooked sausages, pre-prepared tomato sauce and haricot beans.
(Yes, I know. It’s all I could lay my hands on in the short time I had to prepare. Look, this isn’t the day job ok. If this was a pro blog I would have made the effort. So use your imagination and think “haricots”).
The tomato sauce is made up of very, very finely diced tomato (I didn’t have a blender) some diced onion, a good dollop of tomato puree, olive oil, a smidgen of cider vinegar and a splash of water.
Throw the beans and sauce into the pot. Whilst the sauce is heating, slice the sausage in to bite size pieces and add.
Get the whole lot properly heated through and serve.
You could, of course, just open a tin of sausage and beans or use one of those plastic boil in the bag things sold in outdoor shops. I know which I prefer.
Maybe William Wordsworth also once paused here to sit and to contemplate in this amazing place. Maybe he also felt a bit peckish. Maybe he had a little something to eat about his person. Maybe, he sat down, right here, and made himself a small picnic. Maybe, he too, sat and contemplated life and the scenery around him. Maybe that moment inspired him to make the observation above. Who knows, maybe that moment gave him the inspiration to write one of those great poems. It could have all happened right here on this very spot. Just possibly? Maybe?