Another day, another fell. Today’s offering: Beda Fell overlooking Martindale, a place so tranquil one might almost forget the raucous spectacle of last night, when the local Red Deer stags continued to engage in their all-night rutting contests. Nature, it seems, never takes a night off.
Now, let us move on to the red roofed the higher building with the charmingly misleading name, “The Bungalow.” This quaint little structure, erected in 1911 by Hugh Lowther, the Earl of Lonsdale, was intended as a shooting lodge. It still boasts its original décor, if one can call Edwardian hunting paraphernalia and dark wood panels “décor,” and the cobwebs do add a touch of authenticity. The lodge did once possess the modern marvel of electricity, powered by a hydro plant no less. Alas, the current owners seem to prefer the authentic 1911 experience, sans electricity. Imagine the charm of summoning one’s servants with a push-button bell system as though one were starring in one’s very own period drama. But mind the wiring—solid copper, thinly insulated by long perished rubber—perfect for adding a frisson of danger to any domestic scene.
In 1912, the Kaiser himself, no less, graced “The Bungalow” with his presence. He had been the Earl’s guest before, but this time the Earl decided to stage the most delightful farce. Knowing the Kaiser had a particular fondness for shooting rabbits—how continental—the Earl had hundreds of the poor creatures trapped and released upon the Kaiser’s approach. The man, positively giddy, fired away with enthusiasm usually reserved for diplomats signing treaties. One wonders whether the conversation that night by the fire centred solely on game and gallantry, or if there was a subtle nod to the looming war that would engulf them both just two short years later. Oh, to have been a fly on that particular wall!
There you have it. A post touching on the Kaiser, electricity, and of course, rabbits. Delightful, is it not?