THIS week's Diary comes from the Lake District, where we spent a few days exploring the countryside in remarkably mild November weather, with the richly colourful autumn leaves still clinging to the trees in both garden and forest.

On some evenings, golden sunsets bathed the entire landscape. The colours can only be described as breathtaking, these brilliant sights lasting only a few stunning minutes while the sun sank behind the mountains to leave the lakes looking like darkened glass with the moody hills behind.

Our base was a splendid and isolated small hotel in the hills above Windermere, a former country house surrounded by acres of rocky Lakeland fells for us to enjoy. Its quiet gardens with a variety of trees were rich with wildlife - we spotted grey squirrels, magpies, various garden birds such as chaffinches, robins and members of the tit family, plus a nuthatch whose antics on a bird-feeder kept us entertained at breakfast.

In the valley below was Windermere, thought by many to be the most beautiful of the English lakes, although some would suggest Ullswater holds this title, while others might argue the case for either Buttermere, Derwentwater or one of the others. As more than one poet has said, however, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and we've all got our own opinions on such important matters.

But not in dispute is Windermere's status as the largest of the English lakes, being ten and a half miles long by a mile wide at the broadest point. It is also the most popular in terms of tourists, visitors and sailing facilities. Although it was November when we called, the lakeside at Bowness was packed with visitors and the water was full of boats of every kind, but this kind of popularity is not new.

William Wordsworth, the Lakeland poet, described the landscape around Windermere as splendid, although he grumbled about the spread of larch plantations near the ferry terminal on the western shore. He did say, however, that Windermere ought to be seen both from the shore and from its surface, adding that none of the other lakes unfold so many fresh beauties to those who sail there. He said Windermere's grandeur can only be seen from the bosom of the lake, so we took a short cruise from Bowness to Ambleside and back again. And he's right!

One of the regular sights on Windermere is the ferry which carries vehicles and people across the lake from The Nab just south of Bowness to a point below Near Sawry on Claife Heights.

The first mention of a ferry, which then crossed the lake at its widest point some distance to the north, is probably in 1454. A tragedy occurred in 1635 when 47 people drowned as the boat capsized after a wedding at Hawkshead and the ferry also features in a folk tale. Even at the time of this tragedy, the ferry was a rowing boat which carried passengers only (no vehicles). The ferryman would respond to a shout of "ferry" when anyone wanted to cross, but after this tragedy, it was a long time before any ferryman dared to respond. They were all afraid of the Crier of Claife, a fearsome spectre which lived on Claife Heights and would falsely call for the ferry so that the crew and passengers would meet their deaths. The full story is too long to repeat here.

Bowness and the adjoining town of Windermere have merged until they are almost inseparable and both owe their popularity to the railway. When the line from London to Carlisle was being built in 1847, it was decided to add a branch line from Oxenholme to Keswick, but this was never done. The line stopped at Birthwaite, a village overlooking Windermere. As few passengers associated Birthwaite with Lake Windermere, the station was renamed "Windermere" - and so it remains today. In time, Birthwaite was swamped by Windermere and Bowness.

One of our excursions was into Yewdale, well away from busy main roads. It lies to the north of Coniston, not far from Tarn Hows, and is tucked away in the hills where there is an amazing, but very dangerous, place.

This is slate-quarrying country, one of the oldest industries in the Lake District, and near Hodge Close is a redundant quarry. It is a massive gaping hole in the ground with very high sides of sheer slate and a lake of clear blue water at the bottom.

From the rim, one looks down on to full-size pine trees far below; there are no fences and I am sure accidents must happen here. On a previous visit, I discovered the cliff sides were used by rock climbers. To test their skills, they descended on ropes and made use of a wooden platform jutting above the water from the cliffs far below, but on this visit that platform had gone and I saw no sign of activity. The whole place was eerily quiet, contrasting totally with the bustle of the lake shore at Bowness.

The quarrying of slate has been undertaken in the Lake District for centuries and it is regarded as the oldest of our various rocks. It is this which gives character to Lakeland, not only because it features in the mountains and dales of the region, but because it has been quarried for the construction of houses, walls and other buildings in addition to its superb function in roofing.

Unlike some rock, slate is impervious to water and in recent years has been used to dress the external sides of skyscrapers and other handsome structures.

Slate comes in various colours and shades, one of the most popular being the Westmorland green slate found in the former Cumberland and Lancashire. This is found throughout the Lake District, although grey slate is also common, with variations such as sea-green, olive green and even blue.

Although much of the work of dressing slate is now done by machinery, the ancient skills of identifying the grain and then splitting huge blocks into slim tiles remain very much in demand.

At Hodge Close we saw the evidence of large-scale slate abstraction and dressing. Indeed, work was continuing during our visit and I know that some tourists object to the numerous piles of waste slate which dominate this area.

As the district consists of slate in its raw state anyway, this seems to be a case of unnecessary grumbling, for it is merely part of a particularly striking landscape. The mounds of slate are certainly not as intrusive as too many road signs, tourist litter and garish advertisements on shops and hotels. Nor could they be regarded as any worse than the noisy amusement arcade on the lakeside at Bowness.

Coniston village at the northern end of Coniston Water was another port of call. The district is known for its association with the Victorian writer John Ruskin, who between 1871 and 1900 lived at Brantwood, a large country house on the eastern shore of the lake.

His former home is now open to the public and the village has a Ruskin Museum which includes an exhibition of Ruskin Lace. Ruskin did not make the lace himself, however! It was made by the women of the village to cover his body for burial in Coniston churchyard and was based on a pattern he brought back from Greece. He asked his housekeeper to adorn his household linen with lace of that design; other women in the locality adopted the idea and a new household industry was created. Ruskin lace is still made.

Coniston Water, once known as Thorstanes Watter, will be forever associated with the ill-fated attempt by Donald Campbell to break the water speed record. On January 4, 1967, Campbell was killed when his speedboat, Bluebird, crashed as he tried to reach 300mph on the lake. His father, Sir Malcolm Campbell, had established the world water speed record of more than 141mph in 1939 in the first Bluebird, then Donald broke the record five times between 1956 and 1959, finally reaching 276.33mph. It was his effort to reach the elusive 300mph mark which led to his death. Both Campbells are forever remembered in Coniston.

There are many other boats on Coniston Water, including the stately Gondola, an 1859 iron steamship which was recently restored by the National Trust and now takes visitors on cruises around this peaceful lake. There is bustle aplenty in the Lake District - and ample tranquillity if one cares to seek it