Gareth Grindle Photography: The Lakes and an old friend

It may be a shack with three doors and no windows, no heating, in the middle of a field, the toilets a walk away over a wonky bridge and full of WWII air raid shelter bunk-beds, but this is one of my most favourite places on this planet. Having been visiting this shack for well over a decade, I have so many memories at this place. I have shared it with so many people; Some I'm still in-touch with, others who have gone their separate ways, others who are sadly no with us any more.

It started it life as the official Boy's Brigade Camping barn in the 1970's, where weary groups of lads and their Officers' would rest after a day of expeditions, canoeing and climbing. Back then, it was just a space full of old bunk-beds, an earth floor and had no electricity. If you look closely at the old beams and the odd stone in the wall, you can see years and years worth of candle wax of every colour, each drop burned by someone on their own personal weekend adventure away from the town or city they spent day-in, day-out living and working in.

Now-a-days, this place seems to be mostly used by the middle classes 'slumming it' while they go on their adventure days out, come back and sip their expensive wine. There is a fully fitted kitchen, a carpet on the floor, a gas supply and some electricity. There are seats, running water and showers in the toilet block. The place has changed with the times and the requirements of those who use it. One thing that will never change though is this stunning view.

You really cannot beat waking up to this in the morning.

I am not entirely forthcoming in telling where exactly this 'Shack of Memories' is located. Those who have been know where it is, and how to get to it. I'll juts say it is in the Lake District and leave it at that. I do this, not because I am selfish and want to save the place for myself, I just don't want this to become busier than it already is in fear of destroying the rustic beauty of the place.

Of all the weekends I have spend here since my early teens, the thing I remember the most are the parties we have had. We have always had a tradition of filling the rafters (lovingly named The Spider Motorways) with all our empty beer bottles and cans. This was always used as a measure of how epic the weekend had been: The more empty bottles, the better the time we had had. Drinking games were also the norm. Uncountable hours of 'Fuzzy Duck', 'Nipple Twist', 'G'day Bruce', 'Shit Mix' and 'The Name Game' have been played, with each end leaving 'The Ultimate Looser' slightly more drunk than when they started.

I really could talk about the memories of this place forever, but there are one or two that I would get into trouble for telling, including bed wetting and and accusations of parental adultery. With that said, I'll leave you with some more photographs of the area. Enjoy.