Beatrix Potter did not figure largely in my childhood reading. I was more of a Rupert Bear lad myself, until The Famous Five and Just William took over, with Biggles following on close behind.

But I dipped into the worlds of Peter Rabbit and Squirrel Nutkin at friends' houses, enjoying their books which portrayed a cast of anthropomorphic animals in pretty, rural settings.

Some weeks ago I found myself strolling through that world and visiting some of those settings, during an autumn break in southern Lakeland. We were staying in Windermere and read about the popularity of Beatrix Potter's former home at Near Sawrey, a few miles away on the far side of the lake. So we decided to pay it a visit, on foot.

First leg of the journey was a stroll down through Bowness and past its pier to follow the lake-edge path to the ferry - a path which skirted a meadow grazed by amiable cattle. The morning was still relatively young, and the wooded slopes across Windermere were reflected in the lake's calm waters.

We waited with the handful of other foot passengers at the head of a growing queue of cars as the cable-drawn ferry made its sedate way towards us past the moored yachts. There was another couple obviously on a similar mission to ours, with walking shoes and a backpack, and a trio of young Japanese women making a literary pilgrimage.

On the far bank, we disembarked and began the first leg of what was to turn out to be a meandering walk largely avoiding the busy, winding road between the ferry and Near Sawrey.

We headed north first of all, following the lakeside road until we took a fork off it and struck up the steepish path into the wood. It was pleasant walking through the mature trees on a good track, which eventually met another at a T-junction. We turned left and continued to climb, the trees thinning as we did so.

Suddenly there was a flash of deep reddish auburn as a squirrel ran along a wall top. We froze. So did it, offering us a rare chance to study a Red Squirrel for a few seconds before it took fright and raced up a tree to vanish among the leaves.

Soon we were out of the trees and in paradise. There was silence up here, where the wood gave way to rolling upland pastures. Sheep and cattle grazed and took no notice of us. The sky was blue and the autumn sun warmed us. This was the life.

Usually very wary of bulls, in this peaceful place we strolled nonchalantly past the one which sat up here beside the path gazing benignly over his family of cows and fat calves.

The rolling landscape ahead of us as we descended was a joy: green fields, trees just starting to change their shade on this end-of-September day, occasional farms and hamlets and the odd church spire. This was lowland Lakeland at its best. Soon we were at the road in Far Sawrey, making a mental note of its pub for lunch on the return trip before detouring down to the church and joining a fields path towards Near Sawrey.

Much of the land round here is owned by the National Trust, to which thanks must be directed for creating footpaths in its fields running alongside the road, cut off from the traffic by a wall. It makes life a great deal easier.

Near Sawrey was a delightful place - not much there apart from Beatrix Potter's farm Hill Top (now owned and run by the National Trust), a pub and a few houses. This being a Friday, the house was closed (Thursdays, too).

But we had a wander round the garden and took a few photographs before taking a roundabout route through woods and fields (not seeing a soul) back to Far Sawrey for lunch.

Another detour via fields, lanes and a roadside path found us climbing steep steps to the ruin of The Station - which had nothing at all to do with railways but was in fact built by the Victorians to provide a good vantage point for viewing the lake - before descending again to return to the ferry.

It had been a charming outing, full of interest and variety. Small wonder Beatrix Potter created magical stories in this delightful part of the world.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.