Sometime in the early 80s, in my late teens, I checked into the Kendal Youth Hostal. It was my first time in such a place, I was all kitted up in my new rucksack and boots (plus some other items necessary for common decency) and I was excited. I was at the Gateway to the Lakes and I was going to ‘do them’.

My first day’s walking was the relatively gentle ramble to Ambleside, or maybe I stopped beforehand. I can’t remember now, lost as it is in the mists of time over Windermere.

A day or two later, I was ready for my first ‘big walk’: the Fairfield Horseshoe. This changed everything. From the meandering stroll out of Ambleside up country lanes, already gaining altitude, along with my mounting anticipation, to the giddy heights and stunning views from the top, gazing in wonder down the Rydal Valley** to Windermere and contemplating the wondrous Saint Sunday Crag, I remember it all.

Even the sandwiches I ate at the top are still with me, and of course the thigh-shaking and knee-knocking descent, every moment is etched in my memory from nearly four decades ago.

So began my love for the Lakes. It never left me, but I left them, as it were, for far too long. In my early 20s I continued to visit, climbing hills and doing dozens of conservations camps for the National Trust, which has a strong presence here.

Then life took over, I moved on and moved away. I crossed the Channel to live in France, amongst other places, and the Lake District became part of my past. Recently, though, and happily, my folks have moved up here to enjoy their golden years, and I have to opportunity to visit, and rediscover, this area far more often.

What a joy it is! One of my greatest creative pleasures is publishing pictures and writing short texts about Paris, which is where I now call home. Yet a strange sensation has enveloped me during my recent pre- and post-Covid visits. I wanted a counterbalance to the unique hustle and bustle of busy city life. I found it in the Lake District.

Now I plan to create a new body of highly personal work in the style of my Paris Photo Chronicles, and I’ve called it, maybe not very originally, but pleasingly, The Lakeland Chronicles. My Lakeland Chronicles.

The question “Why?” can equally apply to Why do I take photos and write? and Why write about the Lake District?

The best answer may well be “I don’t know and does it really matter?” but that’s not very forthcoming.

I’ve taken photos and written for as long as I can remember, and I don’t sense any slowing down of this compulsion for now. Quite the opposite, in fact, hence this brand new artistic endeavour. It’s just what I seem to love doing. And ‘compulsion’, yes.

I’ve reached a point where it’s more difficult not to photograph and write about stuff than it is to sit around eating drinking coffee and eating croissants, or indeed mintcake and not much else.

The French say “C’est plus fort que moi” (It’s stronger than me), which could also be translated as “I’m powerless to resist this urge”, and that sums it up pretty well.

As for why the Lake District should have stimulated my imagination so, it’s highly symbolic and multifold.

The natural beauty of this region is in direct contrast to the Paris streets and quarters heaving with history, concealing curiosities and being the capital of such a significant country.

I feel like I’m returning to my carefree youth in a way I never expected to happen, it’s a huge surprise for me and I want to record this process somehow. I feel in some strange way that I’m coming home.

Not only that, but the nature-everywhere aspect of this land, the sheep on every street corner (OK, a bit of poetic licence there, let’s say souvenir sheep mugs, scarves and postcards…) the omnipresent fells, the clouds heavy with portent… it all stirs un u speakable joy within the depths of my soul.

In some way too, I’m rediscovering the country I abandoned half a lifetime ago. I didn’t realise it until now, but I’m not quite the rootless rambler adrift on an endless sea of shifting undercurrents I imagined I was. I like the places I’ve been and I’m happy to come back to them after so many years away. It’s almost a relief, but I’m not sure why.

Finally, it’s a huge personal challenge, and challenges are fun. I’ve always been a big fan of beginnings and starting new projects. In this new Lakeland Chronicles project, lies the potential to push myself further than I’ve ever been, both physically, creatively and perhaps emotionally too.

In fact, yes, everything is emotion-based and we all have a desire to feel something, and to share those sensations with others, in order to feel fully alive.

Here in my Lakeland Chronicles, I invite you once more into my world, my creative universe, and as it’s a two-way process, I thank you for allowing me to be part of yours.

My wish it that we all share and grow together. This is my way of doing that. You will have yours. It’s very possible that our paths will cross on some plane or precipice, and when they do, I’ll be smiling at you.

*Why this rain? Lakes need water. Water comes from the skies, falls upon the hills, runs down the valleys and end up in the lakes. Water is the lakes. Water’s good. I like water, and I love the rain. Good waterproofs and umbrellas can be good too, mind you.

**My executive producers, external consultants and I could not, for the life of us, find an official name for this valley. 🌄 There are, however, a ton of ‘Rydal’ references around it, so Rydal Valley it shall be for now, awaiting official clarification. Thank you.

JOIN OUR FUN Facebook Group!

Join in the fun over in my Lakeland Chronicles Facebook group and enjoy and comment on all my latest posts, try the regular quizzes and, of course, post your own Lake District photos and stories.

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey of discovery, up hill and down dale, inside and out.

~ The Laggard of Lakeland