Serpentine Woods, Kendal

Banks. I had no intention of going to a town, but my bank had been testing my patience recently and knowing full well that I wouldn’t get anywhere by phoning, texting or emailing them, took the only other option open to me. To present myself in one of their branches.

Now, British banks don’t seem to like their customers and like closing a lot of their local branches. My nearest branches are some 15 miles away, so after some deliberation, plumped for the Kendal branch. Daughter had told me of this lovely little woodland on the outskirts of town, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and combine it with a dog walk too. So off we set.

The weather wasn’t brilliant. Overcast and threatening with rain. But this being Britain in March didn’t deter us until we reached the periphery of Kendal and the heavens opened. Yuk. I stopped at a small retail park to get some bits and by the time I came out, the rain had thankfully stopped. It might even brighten up. So confidently we drove into the town centre, through Kendal’s convoluted one way system and parked in a small pay and display car park opposite the bus station.

Kendal was quiet on this drizzly day as we wound our way through the streets on towards the Bank. I was prepared to unleash my pent up frustration, but the lad dealt with me quietly and efficiently, so I did another British thing and stayed quiet though I did leave a trail of dried mud from my walking boots, which made me feel embarrassed, but satisfied in equal measure. Light rain was in the air as we wheedled our way to Elephant Yard and using my digital OS map, found an alleyway at the side of Booths. (It is quite a maze of streets and dead end alleys here so can easily get lost or just end up wandering up and down the same paths, looking baffled). It was the start of quite a climb.

The Dog is never impressed with walks in a town centre, but thought she would perk up as we began to walk up away from the town, interested in where we were going. Instead she just dawdled behind me. The steady slope turned into flights of steps, which gave you a bit of a cardiac work out. Little stone terraced cottages and houses lined the route, with little alleyways and ginnels darting off at the side. It was quite fascinating. We crossed little back roads which gave a little respite from the steps and a chance to catch our breaths. The area had an air of bohemia/arts and crafts, of a tight knit community, hanging on the side of the hill. It must of been one of the oldest parts of Kendal and I wanted to have a good wander and nose later.

Towards the end of the steps, I sighed in despair. In amongst this pretty little corner, an atrocity had taken place. (well, in my opinion). Back in the 1960’s when everything had to be utilitarian, Kendal’s town planners had plonked a mini estate of white rendered modern and characterless housing right in the middle of this old part of town. It just so jarred. There had been no attempt to make it blend in at all.

Now this is where I struggle and have a real dilemma with this brutalist architecture. My first immediate thought is to order a couple of boxes of dynamite to which to blow these monstrosities up and replace with something more in keeping. Then, I think, they actually tell a story and are part of our heritage, whether we like it or not and are here to stay. We can’t erase a whole chunk of history just because it doesn’t fit into our expectations anymore ……….

And anyway they’re a good reminder to future planners how not to do it!

https://www.visitcumbria.com/sl/kendal-serpentinewoods/

Finally we came to a road and opposite there was a sign welcoming us to Serpentine Wood. Yes, finally! It was not, alas, the end of the climb and we followed the path steadily up through the woodland. The Dog is still not impressed and I’m wondering whether to give up this endeavour, (there’s nothing worse than your dog dragging their feet and looking like they want to be elsewhere) but hey I’ve paid for 4 hours of parking and want my money’s worth! So we continued. Despite the weather, damp and sogginess, the wood retained a magical air – there were numerous paths darting off in every direction, all well defined. On the edge were large detached Victorian houses that now looked they had been turned into flats or a business premises. I wondered who had lived there before. The wild garlic was starting to sprout and the trees were tentatively budding, there was a hint of life. Now and again, there were wood carvings of animals and a maze made out of logs, little areas for the kids to investigate. A hexagonal building overlooking the town, another rectangular one with no obvious meaning. Trees had been felled by high winds and gales had been left where they had fallen, only touched to clear pathways and left for the wildlife. I was liking this wood very much.

We hit the back of the woodland. We could of climbed even further, crossing the golf course to the summit of Kendal Fell and beyond to the A591 road, but the weather was closing in and the rain heavier. I looked at The Dog – you could see she was just aching for a comfy bed and a blazing fire. I thought she would be excited for a new area to sniff in, but she looked unimpressed. So we followed the path and started to go downwards. A side path took my interest as it went out of the woods and onto a field that gave you a view of Kendal town. Daughter told me that the views were amazing up here, so off we went to check it out. There would of been an amazing view if there wasn’t low cloud, mist and heavy drizzle. It was like being in a plastic box. This would be a lovely spot for a picnic and watching the world below, but not today. We didn’t hang around and slithered through the mud, back into the woods. I was glad we didn’t go for the summit – it would of been pointless and thanked The Dog for her apathy.

We wandered back down, now getting quite damp, though we still turned left and right, taking various paths to see what there was. There were lots of birds flittering around – blue tits and finches and there was a cacophony of birdsong which was lovely to hear. We met a few diligent dog walkers, wrapped in waterproofs, their dogs damp and shaggy. This would be lovely in the summer and it deserved another visit, but on a grotty rainy day, it was still wonderful. Soon we were back on the little back road road. I wanted to walk further and investigate the local streets, but the weather wasn’t improving so we retraced our steps down and found another abomination. A little stone church surrounded and overwhelmed by modern utilitarian housing. My shoulders sagged at the sight.

We dropped onto the last road and on a whim, I decided to have a walk along it, just to look at the houses here. The Dog rolled her eyes, Gromit style and plodded on after me. An eclectic mix of period housing, cottages, terraces, a house dating from 1660’s, quirky buildings. It was fascinating, the higgle-piggly style punctuated by little alleys and roads. I could of wandered around these streets for ages, but feeling a drop of water working its way down the back of my neck, dampened my enthusiasm for investigation and The Dog wandered behind me with her head and tail down despondently, which didn’t help. Below us was a little park and we dropped down to this and walked back into town. Here I dithered. Did I want to find a cosy little cafe which let wet dogs and humans in, order a large latte and even larger piece of cake or just head home? It transpired that the car was nearer than a cafe and I didn’t fancy having to peel off wet coats and feeling damp and uncomfortable. Anyway I was trying to be good and not eat cake, so we went back to the car where The Dog enthusiastically jumped into and plopped down, looking rather bedraggled, but relieved. I pulled out of the car park and had a tour of Kendal courtesy of their meandering one way system before being burped out onto the road out of town, windscreen wipers on, lights on and steaming up slightly, headed for home.