Windermere

When business suits in the train carriages gradually give way to windbreakers and trekking poles, when phone signals start flickering with the undulating mountains, the moss on the cast-iron pillars of Windermere station becomes the most honest guide—time here flows five times slower than in London. The docks of Windermere Lake forever carry the mingled scent of pinewood and diesel. It's best to avoid the midday cruise rush and opt for a departure before 10 AM: board the red-and-white ferry for £12, take a seat on the open-air upper deck, and watch how the lake breaks down England's largest natural body of water into perceptible fragments—on the left, sheep on the cliffs move like drifting snowflakes, while on the right, the triangular flags of the sailing club stretch taut in the wind.