Couldn’t resist posing with the Fab Four

We broke up the journey from the Lake District to Wales with a two-day stop in Liverpool. Not that I was ever dying to see Liverpool, but I did have a bit of curiosity. In my mind the name conjures up gritty old industrial England, coarse football enthusiasts, and a layer of dusty magic from a bygone era of musical greatness.

The spectacular interior of the massive and surprisingly modern Liverpool Cathedral

The Cathedral mixed Neo-Gothic splendor with modern art, like this neon sculpture by the daring English artist Tracey Emin

I wasn’t totally off the mark; I found all three of those things on broad display here in Liverpool. And yet the place was so much more lively and dynamic than that.

The days as an industrial powerhouse have left behind plenty of grand architecture — some in need of repair and lots more turned to new uses. There is a lot of slightly gritty urban beauty to it all.

But the streets were absolutely teeming with life. Admittedly, we arrived on a Saturday, so our first evening probably saw the week’s biggest crowds. But the city center was truly alive — block after block of Liverpudlians out and partying in every direction. It’s hard to imagine seeing so many people out and about at the center of a comparable American city. If you were in Milwaukee or Cleveland or Baltimore, you might find a busy few blocks someplace, but I doubt you’d ever find a city center remotely as full of life as this one.

As far as the coarse football enthusiasts go, my expectations weren’t that far off. This is not a fashionable London crowd. You hear a lot of tough to understand northern industrial accents, not so much the Oxford and Cambridge kind. The place is certainly not overrun by tourists. You just find a lot of ordinary Scousers out enjoying the scene. (Liverpudlians are also called Scousers after a seafood stew called scouse, long favored by local sailors.) And a lot more football jerseys than designer clothes.

And yes, music remains a big part of the excitement because something truly special happened here in the 1960s. An incredible music scene developed in Liverpool, one driven by post-war working class youth, a unique local identity, and the inspiration of American Rock & Roll. A new generation of musical talent packed the clubs along Mathew Street, and eventually took the whole world by storm. Paul, John, George, and Ringo are still present everywhere in Liverpool, and it’s a joy to see.

The almost sinister bulk of Liverpool Cathedral, the largest church in Britain, built between 1904 and 1978. It’s stunning to see such an audacious project built in the 20th century.

Buzzy Mathew Street, home of the little clubs that fueled the unique Liverpool music scene in the 1960s

A replica of the Cavern Club, the little underground space on Mathew Street where the Beatles performed 292 times before emerging as global superstars

Scousers out having a rowdy good time

Delicious Turkish food on lively Castle Street

Beautiful architecture in the buzzy central city

Monumental architecture, including our hotel with the huge clock tower

The city had kind of a rainy, gloomy hangover by Sunday morning

OK, there is one peculiar and not at all good thing about Liverpool. Some genius here decide to make crosswalk signals work differently than every other place on Earth. When you want to cross the street the signal is not directly in front of you on the other side of the street (like it is in every other city on the planet). Here in Liverpool, the signal is tastefully and discretely placed just to the right or left of where you are standing. So when you look across the street, where you expect the signal to be, you are actually looking at the signal for the people who are trying to cross the street perpendicular to the one you want to cross. The result is that when you see the crosswalk signal you are looking for, it’s exactly the opposite of the one that applies to you. So if you look up and see a green man that means you are certain to be mowed down and die if you cross now. Who came up with this madness?

If you see a green man in front of you, that means you will be killed if you try to cross the street. You are supposed to be looking at the red man on your right instead. In fact, it’s the guy standing in this picture who has the right of way, not me. Uniquely Liverpool!

Taking a little rest after climbing up, up, up above the whole valley around Lake Grasmere

After two weeks in magical Scotland we crossed the border again into England’s beautiful Lake District. Our first three-night stop there was in the countryside outside the tiny village of Chapel Stile, not far from the pretty town of Ambleside.

Life does not move too fast in the English countryside. We spent most of our time walking and hiking and looking at bright green scenery under mostly gloomy skies. And sometimes the sun would peek out a bit and make the whole landscape beautiful in a different way. It’s an incredibly picturesque land of lakes and hills and stone walls and lots and lots of sheep. Which I take too many pictures of.

Well deserved credit for all the institutions that had to come together to put a little public bathroom in the tiny village of Chapel Stile

One little challenge in hiking here is following the path. The trails aren’t marked very well, though we did have some very detailed descriptions on paper of the hikes we took on. That’s all fine and good as long as you can manage to translate all the specialty outdoorsy terms that the English love to use. We were constantly on the lookout for such things as pulls, cairns, knolls, gills, spurs, fells, cols, bridleways, and metalled lanes.

One other activity that consumes a bit of one’s time in the Lake District is trying to find some decent food. We all know that the British are not famed for their culinary achievements, though we manage to sniff out some great restaurants most of the time. That challenge gets a lot harder in tiny little towns. It’s hard to find more than pub food, which is almost shockingly breaded, heavy, and unhealthy. To make things worse, we happened to be in Ambleside on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights. And for some cruel reason, the few real “restaurants” only open Wednesday through Saturday.

The only exception seemed to be Luigi’s, a cute little 7-table Italian place. The food was really legitimately Italian, and the the people running it were so friendly that we went back two nights in a row and ordered almost the exact same stuff. It’s great to find a diamond in the rough!

Jim does manage to brighten up the landscape

Our fellow hikers are often the four-legged variety

In case you are wondering, that pile or rocks is a “cairn” that we were watching for

Old buildings on the edge of the village of Grasmere

After some pretty taxing hiking to Grasmere, I just gave in to the high carb pub choices. But that Guiness tasted amazing!

Sometimes the other hikers pushed us off the road completely for a few minutes

Did I mention that I love taking pictures of these guys?

The gorgeous landscape

They looked sad when we closed the gate behind us without letting them through

A lovely old stone bridge (with someone soaking in the water!)

These guys were watching us intently while they kept chewing their food

An evening out on the town in Ambleside

The lovely waitress as Luigi’s asked if she could take a picture for us. That was nice, but the background is so plain…

…so I asked ChatGPT to add some fun wallpaper. Too bad she also kind of mangled our heads in the process!

Someone was watching us from under this tree

One last cute sheep!