Suprises in Hawkshead

When I travelled Europe, I flew into London initially to meet up with Catherine who was visiting her relatives there for a few days before I arrived.  After we had sufficiently conquered the city, we started bussing and train hopping northbound through the UK with no concrete plans in mind.  Leave it to Catherine to close her eyes, circle her finger around the map, randomly strike down on it with full force and say "There! That point shall be our next destination."

"Great Catherine, but where the hell is Hawkshead?"

Hawkshead, it turns out, is a tiny little village in the Lake District of northern England. One of those towns with hardly any tourists, and where all the residents know each other by name.  It is also quite possibly the most beautiful area I have ever seen, with rolling green pastures serving as the immaculate backdrop in all directions.



Hawkshead


 

Our hostel was situated a mile up the road from the bus station.  Our eyes were peeled for any sort of grungy looking building (for that's what hostels usual consist of) but this was not your average hostel.  Originally a colonial mansion, it had been converted into a hostel twenty years ago, and was set amid beautiful flower gardens and held a most majestic view of the lake below.




Hiking to the Hostel





Catherine sunbathing outside the hostel after our long hike up




Pony and Lenai


That evening we went exploring in some of the nearby pasture fields, which we were drawn to because of this cute little pony, when we stumbled upon an old cemetery from the 1800s.  Towards the top of the cemetery, a dreary old church came into view.  It looked fairly abandoned so we approached it for  a closer look.  Suddenly an elderly man appeared at the doorway and said,  "Good evening ladies! Are you here for the concert?"

 "Which concert would that be?" we inquired.

 "Oh well the annual accordion orchestra concert of course!" he stated.

Catherine and I looked at each other completely bemused.

"Yes! Of course we are here for the accordion orchestra concert!"




The Church




 Despite the rundown exterior, the church was remarkably well maintained inside.  At the front of it, were ten musicians ranging from 10-70 years of age.  The three with accordions in their hands made up the first row, and the back row consisted of a pianist, a cellist, a few on the violin, and the rest on the flute.  Watching them was a small audience of about 25 people.  We quietly slipped into the back row, and remained there memorized for the next hour listening to the melodies of Moon River, Pirates of the Caribbean and Celtic Connections. The sound produced was so beautiful it was hypnotic.  By the end of the hour the whole church was so absorbed in the music that everyone began clapping their hands and stomping their feet to the beat.   I think that's when I leaned over to Catherine and whispered, "Are we in a run-down church on top of a rolling hill in the English countryside listening to an accordion orchestra concert right now?"

 Just your typical Saturday night overseas.


Catherine and The Pony



I think he liked us...