Camping – Resonation

30 years ago | Drunken Duck Inn, Barngates, Cumbria | 9th April 1993

In our first year at University, a few of us decided to meet up in the Lake District over the Easter weekend. We arrived at the campsite at Low Wray, on the north-western shore of Windermere and set up our tents.

With everyone having assembled by around tea-time on the Maundy Thursday, there was nothing else left to do but go to the pub. But where was it?

Fortunately, someone had spotted a small sign pointing up the hill about a mile and.a half back down the road to the site. That was good enough for us, so off we wandered, hoping it wouldn’t be too much further from the sign.

Not only was it almost another mile further on but the rest of the walk was a steep incline, climbing for over 300 feet. We were all starting to work up a thirst. Hopefully, this place would be worth the effort required to get there.

Was it ever! We arrived at a charming pub called the Drunken Duck Inn, ordered a round of Old Peculiers and sat outside, around the bench tables across the road. In the mild spring sunshine, we chatted and ate and drank as the evening wore on. Through nothing but pure luck, it just became one of those magical nights when all the elements were perfect.

Not only did we go back the next night but we were there the next year as well, each time expecting the experience couldn’t possibly measure up to that mythical first night. Every time, we were pleasantly surprised that it did. The place seemed to be enchanted, as if it could only be accessed from the outside world via a portal.

I’ve been back a few times since then, over the years – I even bought the T-shirt on one visit. It’s gone a little more gentrified in recent times but at least it’s still there, still legendary. One day I’ll go again and when I do, I’ll sit at those bench tables across the road.

**The view towards Ambleside from the bench tables at the Drunken Duck.** Photo: Paul Bentham

15 years ago | Great Langdale Campsite, Langdale Valley, Cumbria | 22nd March 2008

From my first year at University, it became something of a tradition for us to go camping in the Lake District over the Easter Weekend. More on that in weeks to come but in 2008, fifteen years after our first camping weekend, we decided to resurrect the old tradition….

There are two things you need to know here:

1, we were no longer students and

2, that year, Easter was about as early as it’s possible to be.

If I remember correctly, one reason for the Easter reunion that year was the impending nuptials of one of our number. Most of the rest of us had already been married off and/or produced offspring. In my own case, with a three-and-a-half year-old by then, it was a very rare opportunity for a night out.

Unlike our first-ever Easter camping weekend, we were reasonably well-prepared. The standard of tents, sleeping bags and other equipment reflected that we’d all become better-funded than in our student days.

Just like our first-ever camping weekend, we did as little camping stuff as possible and disappeared to the nearest pub – in this case, the Hikers’ Bar at the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, I think. And there the evening unfolded as planned, and all was well.

The next morning, I awoke to one of the worst hangovers I can remember. It was made many times worse by the fact that when I opened the tent for some fresh air, I discovered it was actually snowing.

The best thing to do was get out of the tent, sit in the car, with the engine and heating on and nurse the half-bottle of Fanta that I had until such point that I was able to function again.

What felt like weeks later, I became marginally less sickly and 100% more legal to drive. There was nothing else to do but say “we must do this again”* and limp home to groan on the coach and elicit very little sympathy. Good times!

* We’ve never done this again.