Some park ups linger in your memory for the right reasons. This one, tucked just off the A6 near Kendal at roughly 54.3500, -2.7279, sticks with me for all the wrong ones.
On paper, it sounds convenient enough. You simply peel straight off the main A6 carriageway into the layby, no awkward manoeuvres or narrow lanes to worry about. After a long day on the road, that ease of access felt like a small win. I pulled in as dusk was settling, hoping for a quick, no-fuss overnight stop before continuing on to Kendal in the morning.
Any optimism didn’t last long.
From the moment the engine was off, the reality of the location hit hard. This is essentially a parking strip bolted onto a very busy main road, and the traffic never really lets up. Cars, lorries, vans. The constant rush of tyres on tarmac formed a relentless backdrop that only grew louder as the evening wore on. I kept telling myself it might quieten down later. It did the opposite. The later it got, the worse the noise seemed to become.
It was also far busier than I ever expected. By the time darkness fully settled, the layby had become a crowded patchwork of parked vans and tired-looking lorries. There is something faintly comforting about not being alone when wild camping, but this was not that kind of atmosphere. Vehicles came and went at all hours, headlights sweeping through the windows, engines rumbling into life, doors slamming shut. Every time I drifted close to sleep, another arrival or departure dragged me straight back into full awareness.
What unsettled me even more was the steady trickle of cars pulling in during the night. Some stayed only minutes before leaving again, others lingered with engines running. The constant comings and goings created a jittery, uneasy feel. It never tipped into outright threatening, but it was far from restful. I ended up lying there listening instead of sleeping, half expecting the next set of headlights to swing in at any moment.
By the small hours, frustration had fully replaced fatigue. I can honestly say it was the worst night’s sleep I have ever had in a park up. Broken, shallow dozing at best, punctuated by noise and movement. When dawn finally arrived, I felt more worn out than when I had arrived the evening before.
There is no scenic reward to balance it out either. No quiet river nearby, no big open views, no birdsong to soften the morning. Just a strip of tarmac beside a roaring road, with the day’s traffic hammering past as soon as the sun is up.
To be clear, this layby does exactly what it says on the tin. It gives you a legal strip of space to pull off a main road and stop. In an absolute emergency, when every other option has fallen through and you simply cannot drive on, it serves a basic purpose. Beyond that, I would avoid it without hesitation.
Cumbria is full of beautiful, peaceful corners that make vanlife feel like a gift rather than a test of endurance. Compared to those, this spot feels loud, restless and thoroughly unwelcoming. I drove away the next morning with ringing ears, heavy eyes and a clear promise to myself that I would only ever return here if I was truly desperate.
///muted.spreading.verse