A Dose of Dave

A camping trip is never made up of one grand event. It is built from smaller moments: the first brew outside the tent, somebody laughing as a wave comes over the side of a boat, food shared in the open air and rain drumming on canvas at three in the morning.

This was five days at Ullswater with the family. We had sunshine, crowds, waterfalls, paddleboards, canoes, a motorboat and plenty of rain. Looking back through the photographs and videos, it is the mixture of everything that made the trip memorable.

Setting off: the beginning of five nights at Ullswater.

Making a home beside the tent

Once the tent was up, the next job was to make the pitch work. I had my rocking chair, cupboards, cooking tables and enough shelter to sit outside comfortably. It was not exactly roughing it, but that is the point: a little organisation turns a patch of grass into a temporary home.

The cooking area sat beside the tent, with everything close at hand. Early in the morning I could sit with a brew, look across the campsite and decide what the day might bring. There is something satisfying about beginning the day outdoors before the rest of the site has fully stirred.

Dave's tent with his rocking chair and organised outdoor kitchen beside it — The pitch arranged as a comfortable outdoor home.

The campsite cooking tables, stove, wind guard and storage cupboards — A practical kitchen, with a good view thrown in.

An early morning brew, the rocking chair and a glorious day ahead.

We ate extremely well

Camping food does not have to mean beans from a tin. I had brought prepared food for my own cooker, while my daughter arrived with her pizza oven and produced proper pizzas for everybody. The pepperoni pizza was, quite simply, to die for.

Food tastes different outdoors. Perhaps it is the fresh air, or perhaps it is because everybody gathers around while it is being made. Either way, we all ate very, very well.

The outdoor pizza oven set up at the family campsite — My daughter's pizza oven earned its place on the trip.

A freshly cooked joint of meat at the campsite — Camp cooking with no shortage of ambition.

Friday evening brought another small pleasure: watching my rugby team in a grudge match on the tablet, outside the tent, with a bottle of Newcastle Brown. Technology has its uses—even when you have deliberately gone away to spend time outdoors.

A bottle of Newcastle Brown in front of a rugby match playing on a tablet outside the tent — Friday night rugby, campsite style.

Aira Force and an unexpected invitation

The car parks at Aira Force were extremely busy and appeared to be full, but we eventually found a place further up. From there we enjoyed a lovely walk through woodland, beside the water and around the falls.

It was one of those walks where every turn offered another reason to stop: moss-covered rocks, small cascades, bridges far below and glimpses of Ullswater through the trees. I may have done a little more walking than was sensible, and I was glad of my stick and a quiet minute when the opportunity came.

Ullswater seen through a mossy tree across a sunlit green field — Ullswater appearing through the trees on a bright afternoon.

A rocky woodland stream on the walk around Aira Force — Cool woodland and water running over mossy stones.

A small waterfall dropping between rocks in the woods at Aira Force — One of the smaller cascades along the route.

Afterwards we went on to Glenridding for a pint of Guinness and a gentle mooch around. There I met five young hikers, probably in their early twenties, who were setting out for Helvellyn. They invited me to join them and kindly said they would help me around the route.

It was a generous offer and I appreciated it, but I declined. I knew I would slow them down, and part of enjoying the outdoors is being honest about your limits. Still, their friendliness stayed with me. Encounters like that are often the moments a diary would miss if it recorded only destinations and mileage.

Dave taking a short rest during the Aira Force walk — A minute to rest, look around and let the world carry on.

A good day outdoors is not measured only by how far you walked. It is measured by what you noticed along the way.

A family day by the lake

The next part of the trip belonged to the water. I watched my daughter paddleboard while my sons, daughters and grandchildren took the canoe out. There was no need to rush. People went out, came back, swapped places and enjoyed Ullswater at their own pace.

From the shore there was plenty to watch: a dog swimming happily, the Ullswater steamer passing against the hills and the family finding their balance on the lake. A good time was had by all, and afterwards I returned to the tent for a quiet afternoon hour.

Dave's granddaughter watching a dog swim as an Ullswater steamer passes beneath the hills — A dog in the water, the steamer passing and Ullswater filling the horizon.

Dave's daughter standing on her paddleboard on Ullswater — My daughter heading out on the paddleboard.

Dave's son helping his grandson into an inflatable canoe at Ullswater — My son and grandson preparing the canoe.

Captain for the afternoon

We also hired a motorboat for an hour or so and cruised gently on the lake. The grandchildren, my daughter and my son-in-law all took turns at the controls. For a while my grandson was captain, looking very much as though the boat had always belonged to him.

The return journey was rather choppier. Waves splashed over us as we approached the dock, which only made everybody laugh. At one point we passed a group of canoeists. I waved, pretended to row our motorboat and was rewarded with laughter and waves from the whole group.

Cruising Ullswater while my grandson takes a turn as captain.

Dave sitting beside his grandson and son-in-law with a picnic basket at Ullswater — Three generations, a basket of goodies and time together by the lake.

Rain on the canvas

At three o'clock one morning I woke and listened to the rain on the tent. It is one of the unmistakable sounds of camping: close, steady and much louder than rain heard through a bedroom window. When you know the tent is doing its job, it can be strangely peaceful.

Talking about a night of rain from the shelter of the tent.

The final night provided rather more of it. Rain fell from about eleven in the evening until seven the next morning. I began packing under the shelter of the tarp while it was still coming down. Then, just when it mattered, the rain stopped.

I folded the tarp, took down the tent and loaded everything into the car without another shower. After a night like that, getting the equipment away dry felt like a small victory—and camping trips are full of small victories.

Dave smiling beneath the rain-covered shelter on the final morning — The face of happiness while waiting for the rain to stop.

The last morning: rain outside and coffee still to come.

What I brought home

Five nights at Ullswater produced far more than a list of places visited. It gave me mornings outside with a brew, an excellent pepperoni pizza, a walk around Aira Force, a kind invitation from strangers, laughter on a choppy boat and time beside the water with three generations of the family.

It also gave me wet canvas, an early-morning packing operation and another reminder that the weather does not have to be perfect for a trip to be worthwhile.

These are the photographs and little videos that preserve it. Not a polished travel brochure, but the trip as it really happened: busy, comfortable, funny, occasionally wet and completely ours.