As the seasons change: a year of walking by Derwentwater near Keswick

A hot afternoon in June, just before midsummer…

Approaching Crow Park, at the southern tip of Derwentwater, the air feels alive with the buzz of summer. I walk barefoot on the deep emerald grass, studded with daisies and buttercups. Groups of friends and families lie lazily on the lakeshore, laughing in the afternoon sunshine, capturing timeless summer memories on camera and film. 

Children paddle on the fringes of the lake, cooling off in the still, calm waters that glitter under the heat of the sun. A lone paddleboarder drifts serenely across the water, framed by the arch of Cat Bells, the nearby hill where walkers who have hiked to its summit look like toy soldiers. I watch as she drifts past St Herbet’s Island, one of the four islands dotted across Derwentwater, and an inspiration for Beatrix Potter’s ‘The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin’ story and out further into the lake filled with rowing boats, canoes and small boats. 

To the left of the park, visitors stream off the honey-coloured wooden boats that carried them around the lakeshore, walking back up the road to Keswick, carrying memories that will last long in the memory beyond the season’s end.

 

A wild and blustery autumn day in October

It’s a cool and breezy day as I wind along the western shores of Derwentwater. The sky is leaden grey, thick and heavy with the threat of rain. The wind whips and swirls over the lake, creating a series of peaked, tiny waves, akin to watching the sea on a choppy day. Looking across to the peaks of Causey Pike and Cat Bells, the lush green bracken that adorned these hillsides in the height of summer has faded to deep copper and russet tones. 

I watch the golden leaves fall from the beech trees overhead, cascading towards the earth, and I kick through the piles of damp autumn leaves that have already settled, releasing that musty, familiar scent of autumn. Only hardy souls have braved a walk today – a local dog walker, head down and marching, an ambitious trail runner still smiling despite the threatening rain and a hardy hill walker decked out in colourful waterproofs that flap like flags in the billowing breeze. The last colours of the year are giving way to the muted tones of winter.

 

A cold, crisp afternoon in December, at sunset

The afternoon light is already fading as I reach the lakeshore, a little before 4 pm. A recent cold snap brought a flurry of snow, blanketing the highest hills with a soft winter coat. An ethereal, quiet beauty, the familiar landscape bathed in white, void of colour. 

Underfoot, a thin layer of sparkling frost remains, despite the weak winter sunshine; my breath is visible, swirling like fog, with every step I take. Lone photographers are perched next to the lake, bundled in woolly hats and scarves, determined to capture the crimson winter sunset. 

The air is crisp, still, and quiet, with just a murmur of voices from those admiring the views —a stark difference from the noisy bustle of summer. A spiky holly bush with scarlet berries punctuates what is an otherwise muted landscape. Walking on the eastern shore towards Portinscale, the trees are bare, stark and skeletal. The world above ground is stripped of life until spring returns the following year.

 

The first days of spring, a mid-April morning

After the long, cold days of winter, this morning feels like the first real morning of spring, sun warming my face, allowing me to shrug off my coat for the first time this year. Walking along the western shore of Derwentwater, towards the popular viewpoint of Friar’s Crag, the first few acid green leaves are beginning to emerge on the oak and beech trees, birdsong filling the air from the highest of branches. 

A heady scent of wild garlic fills the air from the nearby woodland floor; the plant’s alternative name, ramsons, helped name the smallest of Derwentwater’s islands, Rampsholme Island. 

The writer and artist John Ruskin described the view from Friar’s Crag as ‘one of the three most beautiful scenes in Europe’, and on reaching the viewpoint, it’s easy to see why, with panoramic views across Derwentwater, with little Castle Crag, one of the smallest hills in the Lake District, framing the entrance to the Jaws of Borrowdale. Life is emerging once again, with the first few shoots of bracken on the hillside. 

The cycle of seasonal change on this stunning lakeshore is about to begin again.

 

Rebecca is a writer and hillwalker based in Ambleside. Find her on Instagram at @lookwithneweyes and at www.lookwithneweyes.com.