The Lake District, 17-19 Spetember 2006: Kendal Castle

When I saw the castle through the arch from this side of the river, I didn't know that the ruin on the hill top would become one of the most memorable places on my tourist diary. It is Kendal Castle.
The castle was not on my original itinery as I reckoned it would be too far away to reach. It wasn't on my guidbook either. When I strolled across the park, an old lady persuaded me to take a 20-min walk to take a look. 'It is very worthwhile,' she recommended.

So I marched on.



I crossed river Kent and walked into a quiet residential area, seeing the castle ahead of me. The lane was pretty empty then.
I was worried about being a loner in the peaceful quietness and about getting lost, but somehow the steady presence of that target assured me. It never abandoned me every time when I looked up to search for direction.
Its enormous omnipresence continued calling me to move on.




Here I saw the entrance.
Some real hiking was going to take place.








Walking up to the hill was not difficult at all, but the feeling of loneliness was a bit worrying. How long will it take? Can I make it? Shall I just head back? What if I get lost?
But again the castle stood there with ease. I was enchanted.


A dog just finished his daily walk and was walking down the hill. It smartly saw through my nervousness and inexperience on this empty and boundless ground.

My heart was drumming fast. I was nervously excited. I seemed to expect a totally new vision of the world. And I was right! After the last turn of the path, the ancient ruin stood there against the backdrop of the sky.
No strident self-assertion but an air of elegant solemnity.



Kendal Castle is located, perhaps, on the highest point in the region. It overlooks the entire town. Nothing can block the sight of this world. My visual scope of the universe was enlarged and extended as if I could easily reach the seam where the shining green and bright blue met.



The space is free of boundaries.
The experience is empowering: the world seems to be within one casual glance.
But the experience is also belittling: the world is always bigger than it is perceived.






Here I listened to the complete quietness: my own breaths, my steps on the meadow, wind flirting through cracks on castle walls, rustle of tree leaves.
The comtemplative quietude is the sound of Nature.

Here I stood in repose, feeling empowered and humble.

The Lake District, 17-19 September 2006: My collection of pigs

Part of my research work happened to be about sows, and it opened up my intuition for this interesting creature.

Does Cumbria have any particular connection with the industry of pigs?

I kept seeing images of this meaty animal during my entire journey. Pigs are indispensable in the economic life in the Lake District, I suppose. Piglets are exchanged for valuable goods. Pigs' hair is a good material for brushes. I even saw gargoyles of pigs, whose representations are rare I think. In Beatrice Potter's imaginary world, they are gentlemen from the countryside.

I am now quite intrigued by this search for pigs in the UK, any popular pig icons in the country? (I don't like the pigs in George Orwell's Animal Farm though).