Timing is everything. A quick Google search told me that a man I’ve never heard of before called Anthony Liccione coined that now very well- known phrase. I don’t know what else the man did with his life but boy did his words resonate with a slightly alarming regularity on our first road trip to The Lake District.

  The trip couldn’t have started better. We discovered that the route was a very simple and fast one thanks to the A1, which we’d follow from Welwyn Garden City all the way up to Scotch Corner before enjoying the drive across the North Pennines on the A66.  No hold-ups. No punctures and the usual brilliant song choices from Lou helped the two hundred and sixty miles pass in a breeze.

    The journey was topped off by me clocking the very high and very visible Great Dun Fell Radar Station on the western edge of the Pennines. If you’re an avid road cyclist like me, then the place needs no introduction. If not then you’ll hopefully find it my following fact interesting. It offers the highest and one of the longest continuous road climbs in all of England and Wales.

  I of course wanting to stay in Lou’s good books on day one had planned a short walk from a village called Dufton, which is located at the foot of the hills. The sun was shining, the wind was absent and people were nowhere to be seen. We rambled along an old farm track and watched men working the fields and even listened to a sheep suffering a sneezing frenzy. If you closed your eyes, which we most certainly did,, then it sounded much like an old man. You may have read from earlier posts how much Louise loves sheep and I can only ask you to imagine the sounds of glee that came from her mouth. I had one happy girlfriend right there!

  An hour later and our great moods came crashing down when we finally located our accommodation for the next three nights. Via an unplanned detour to a chicken farm thanks to Lou’s map reading skills, we finally managed to locate our final destination thanks to the very friendly farmer, who came out probably wondering why two southern folk had parked up in his yard.

   We were first concerned when one of the hosts, a man called Tom, came out looking as if they weren’t expecting any guests at all.  He was a friendly man though and once he knew who we were, guided us to where we’d be staying- a yurt! With no other guests staying until the weekend and on meeting up with Tom’s wife Andre, they very kindly offered us the pick of the three, suggesting the biggest was best as it would be warmest. The daylight and temperatures were already falling, so we took them up on their offer as Louise seemed to be hounded by one of their dogs. She adores dogs, but it was clear that having this large puppy constantly jumping at her and nipping at her arms was too much even for her. Tom just shouted at it, but Louise’s chest and arm remained its focus.  We were both relieved when Tom had lit the fire for us and then left us in peace. It gave us a chance to finally take in our surroundings.

   The yurts and other rustic accommodation were located in a copse they’d planted themselves and it was very well done with a communal area in the centre of the site, water point and composting loo. The option of a hot shower and flushing toilet was there too, but required a fair trek from our front door.  

  It was pretty much then that we realised that we’d made a pretty poor judgement. The photos of the yurt online looked lovely and it certainly was. The bed was comfy as was the sofa and we had all the utensils we needed to self-cater during the trip. The place also got amazing reviews, which is what gave us the confidence to book it.  The big issue was timing. This place no doubt is great in the summer with other guests staying, long hours of daylight and much higher temperatures. In November though it was hard work and we didn’t fancy that, paying £70.00 per night for the privilege.

 

The most ridiculous thing is that we knew how rustic it was from the detailed description online. We knew that the small kitchen area would be outside and that our heating would be a log burning stove. The realism though was rather different from what we imagined it would be like and it was to get worse once it got dark.

   Our yurt heated up quickly and was very cosy, but we couldn’t help but detect the smell of petrol inside the space. I left Louise on the sofa as I walked down to the car to collect some food and on returning, found her in a rather bad way. At first I thought she was just tired, but it soon became apparent that she was pretty much out of it and couldn’t string a sentence together. She regularly makes strange noises that I struggle to understand, but this was different and frankly quite frightening. Carrying her out of the yurt and sitting her against the washing station, she gradually started to come around and on glancing at her clever little watch, discovered that her oxygen levels in her blood were at a very low level that she hadn’t experienced before- 92%. A healthy number is anywhere between 98-100. Initially, I was only concerned with her safety, but once she’d come around I just filled with anger. There was no doubt in our minds that the smell of petrol was linked to what we’d just experienced and that our hosts had put us in that position even if it was unintentional, which I’m certain it was.

   Three hours into our stay, we decided that our first night in the yurt would be our last and went about booking a Travel Lodge room in nearby Penrith for the following night, so we could still enjoy the incredible Lake District we’d travelled so far to see. Yes I mention money a lot, but we couldn’t help but notice the  room was £58.00, which made it £12.00 cheaper than the yurt. We would have an unlimited supply of electric, unlike the previous night when Tom told us that the car battery, which supplied power for the lights in the yurt, could run out. We would also be afforded the luxury of both hot and cold water from taps that always worked. On trying to fill up our water bottles from both the outdoor and indoor taps on our first and final morning, we discovered they provided as much water as the clouds that drift over The Atacama Desert- none!  

   Being slightly more reserved people, we didn’t speak our minds and give an honest account of our experience to Andre as she visited our yurt in the morning. I made the excuse that we needed to head home for unforeseen circumstances and she seemed genuinely upset that we needed to leave early, even offering us the other two nights in the summer. Tom and Andre were lovely people and what they’ve created is wonderful. I am in no way trying to deter others from visiting as I mentioned that virtually all guests have left very satisfied and indeed returned again at another date.

  We couldn’t help but think that it was just overpriced and should be at least £20 a night less than it was. Charging guests for more wood on day two in November is frankly ridiculous as is charging £40.00 to make up the beds. I reckon that’s a 10 minute job, so wouldn’t mind setting up a bed making business if those rates become acceptable to the masses. It would make me far wealthier than being a teacher!