Finding beauty in a foreign backyard

The Unicorn Inn. What a great name for a pub, am I right? Well I certainly thought so, which could be how I ended up sitting in that pub listening to several of the locals performing at an open mic night. I didn’t quite know what to expect when my friends and I decided to go to this open mic night at the Unicorn, but it ended up being nothing like my absent expectations. The performers were mostly older white British men not afraid of a little scruff and worn out clothes. They played guitars and sang some old folk rock like Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon.” One guy even brought out his harmonica, always a show-stopper in my book! The tiny, cramped pub itself had a lot of character as well, with a wagon wheel hanging from the low ceiling, a homely fireplace behind the performers, and a colour-changing spotlight livening up their faces.

As endearing and memorable as this experience was, however, it is not going to be the main focus of this post. My reason for bringing up the Unicorn Inn at all, was to detail an encounter we had with the bartender after we had had our fill of open mic night. We were standing outside the pub, me, Matt, Lilia, and the bartender, just chatting. We told her about the more-intense-than-had-been-anticipated hike we went on earlier that day, and she just kinda smiled and nodded, saying that was a typical thing that a lot of tourists did while visiting the city. Then she laughed a little and admitted that she had lived in Ambleside (the name of the cute little town we were staying in) for nineteen years and had only been on two of the many hikes in the area. I was a little surprised by this comment she had made in such an off-handed way. I had been absolutely blown away by the picturesque and powerfully sublime views we had seen on our hike. I thought, how could you live in a place as beautiful as this and not want to explore and drink in every last piece of it? But then I thought for a moment and realized that I would most likely have made a very similar comment about my own hometown had the roles been reversed.

Our hike up one of the hills surrounding Lake Windermere.

I know I’ve been a little long-winded in my introduction to this post, but here’s the point I’m hoping to make: If we want to savor and appreciate the beauty, reverence, and picturesque of life and nature, we have to choose to see it. This trip to the North of England helped me to see that there is beauty embedded within every piece of this world. However, we often have a tendency to become desensitized to the beauty that is right in front of us. We seek the foreign to satisfy our craving for the picturesque, thinking that in some way it will be better than anything we could find in our own backyard. We think we have to travel to exotic and far-away places to find impressive views and awe-inspiring sights, successfully discarding and then overlooking the beauty that had been in the palm of our hand all along. With this idea that there is beauty in everything in mind, it becomes so much easier to choose to see and appreciate that beauty.

And so, I want to do my best to paint for you a picture of the sublime beauty I found whilst traversing across Northern England. Our first stop landed us in Haworth, the hometown of the Brönte sisters. After touring the Parsonage, the home where the sisters grew up, we went out to explore the moors, where the girls used to play as children. As they grew older, this rugged and breathtakingly beautiful landscape became the inspiration for the romantic and passionate novels they would write later in life. (If you’re a true fan, you’ll remember my post from a couple months ago when I went into a little more depth on this idea. And if you’re a true fan who has simply entered the game a little late, here’s a link to that post, if you’re interested!) With this background in mind, I was excited to witness the sublime and powerful beauty of the Haworth moors for myself. And I definitely was impressed and in awe looking at the unforgiving, yet inspiring landscape of the moors. But it was very much a choice that I made to see my surroundings in that way. Yes, the moors are beautiful and foreign and definitely a sight to be appreciated. But as I was standing there on the moors, drinking in the beauty, I was also able to see how easily this view could have been taken for granted and overlooked. I saw how the landscape could have been cast aside as unable to live up to the hype. Despite this, I chose to instead see the same beauty that the Brönte sisters were able to find even in their own backyard. And it made for a memorable, even spiritual experience.

The Haworth moors

I love the combination of the deep green and maroon on the moors!

The next day, we made our way to the Lake District. We stopped in Ambleside, a small town on the edge of Lake Windermere. This lake and the little village on its edge were, without a doubt, my favorite part of our trip up north. There was a quiet air of bliss and relaxation in Ambleside, and in a way it felt like an escape from the real world. It felt foreign, and it felt like home at the same time, as if it were a magical place that transcended the arbitrary borders that separate and define our society.

Ambleside and Lake Windermere :)

This is probably my favorite picture of Lake Windermere! Isn't it just breathtaking??

That night, as I sat on the edge of the pier just outside of the hostel we were staying in, I felt at peace and in love with the beauty surrounding me. Even though it was 11pm at night, there will still traces of daylight painting the sky with light and color. This fading light allowed me to pull out my sketchbook so I could capture the moment with an intimacy that photography could never match. Sitting there, sketching the lake and its surrounding silhouette of a landscape, I lost myself for a moment in the sublime. It was pure bliss :)

Lake Windermere at 11pm. Crazy how light it was that late at night!

My nighttime sketch of the lake.

The next sublime moment I stumbled upon was one that I was privileged to share with my good friend Lilia. The second hostel we stayed at in the Lake District was in Hawkshead, near a smaller lake called Esthwaite Water. After a yummy dinner of tikka masala that night, Lilia and I decided to grab our umbrellas and brave the rain outside to enjoy a nice walk by the lake. In all honesty, when we first got to the edge of the lake, I wasn’t terribly impressed by the view; it seemed rather ordinary. But thankfully, it was Lilia and her sweet and pure appreciation for the quiet beauty of the rain hitting the surface of the lake that helped me make the moment into something memorable. We relished in the peaceful feeling of the grey, quiet world and the bits of flavor added by the green grass, the blue and yellow boats, and the red trim on Lilia’s umbrella. As sublime as this humble beauty was, it was really the company that made the moment something to cherish. Lilia taught me that the act of sharing the picturesque with another kindred soul is something that can turn even the most ordinary view into a sublime moment.

Lilia in her natural habitat.

My sketch :)

Over the course of those four days we spent in the North of England, the act of seeking out the sublime allowed that foreign backyard to become a haven of sorts, separate from the rest of the world. It was a place where time started to lose its meaning and the worries of the world lifted for a moment. And most importantly, it was a place where I learned to see beauty in both the picturesque and the ordinary. I intend to carry this skill with me when I go back home to Provo, where hopefully I will be able to see my own backyard through new eyes, through a more Brönte-like perspective.

The Lake District of Northern England :)

-Em