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I am voting with my feet. Since I first showed up on the doorstep of this fabulous hotel, almost twenty years ago, I have returned as often as I could, in all different seasons of the year, and for as long as I could possibly manage on each stay. A friend of mine calls the Lake District "the roots of heaven," and that is a pretty good description of this part of the world.

The scenery alone is spectacular. Most of the area surrounding Grasmere, the town just down the hill from Michaels Nook, is a national park. Thanks in part to early conservation efforts by none other than the poet William Wordsworth, you can see this area as it might have been seen a century or two ago. At the least, it has not been ruined, by our modern penchant for high-rise buildings and freeways. The Romantic Poets helped to publicize the Lakes as a scenic spot, and this had both its good and bad points. (Candy wrappers on the ground left by tourists: not good. Large-scale conservation measures: excellent.) Many acres are still farmed today, and you can see sheep and cows grazing on the land (even with the latest horrible outbreak of foot and mouth disease--precautions for which did, however, preclude very much walking, when I was there in May).

The Lake District is a favorite spot among English people who love to walk. There are challenging enough hills to climb so that you can convince yourself you are hiking, or practically mountain climbing. (A real climber would chuckle at this. But to an amateur, the steep terrain and terrific views are exhilarating, and will easily make you hungry enough to do justice to a splendid dinner.) All of the trails are marked clearly, and are tended well (stone steps are placed in particularly steep spots). You can have your choice of a dozen different guide books with various maps in any local bookstore. I have walked alone there for years, sometimes with a compass and map, sometimes without, and have (almost) never felt anxious. If you do begin to feel lost, simply walk down to the foot of whatever hill you are on, or ask the next group of passing hikers where you can find the trail leading back to town.

The main feature of the Lakes for me, however, is Michaels Nook itself. That is what draws me back again and again. The house was built in 1859 as a kind of summer vacation home for a Victorian cotton industrialist, who had a large family—hence the large number of bedrooms, enormous drawing-room, high ceilings, huge French windows looking out at the mountains in all directions, and general air of expansive prosperity. The owners, Reg and Elizabeth Gifford, tend the mansion with fanatical devotion, personally lighting the coal and wood fires in the grates, arranging flowers, seating diners in the dining room each evening, pouring wine, and looking after all of their guests with true hospitality. Their unflagging energy is remarkable, and remains evidence of a passionate vocation: Reg Gifford opened Michaels Nook in 1969, and it was one of the first "Country House Hotels" in England. Over the years, he has chosen all of the antiques which furnish the house, carefully trained each of the chefs (the hotel's restaurant is Michelin starred), and continually stocked the wine cellar. The patina of contentment which this creates throughout the house is an artistic achievement.

I first went there entirely on the spur of the moment. I had gone to Oxford to read papers in the Bodleian Library for an academic book I was writing on the novelist Barbara Pym, and I found to my astonishment that the library was to be closed for an entire week. (I don't know why I found it surprising that librarians should have a holiday too.) A seminar paper written in graduate school the year before, on Dorothy Wordsworth's journals, had sparked a desire to see the Lake District, this terrain which she adored so passionately. I scrutinized the train schedules. I pondered. I had read about Michaels Nook in a guide book somewhere, liking in particular the notation that the hotel had a Great Dane and three cats in residence. I rang up: there was a room. I went. I walked. I ate. I gazed . . . I was hooked for life.

The hotel was—and still remains—spectacular. Dinner at Michaels Nook is always five courses, preceded by the most amazing tiny hors d'oeuvres possible, and it wanders on through a rich labyrinth of appetizer and soup and main course and dessert and cheese course to petits fours, which accompany your coffee in the drawing-room. I still possess every single dinner menu from each of my visits to the hotel. As for breakfast, that is invariably a three-course extravaganza, including toast (with the crusts trimmed off!) with special, homemade marmalade, a choice of various fresh fruits, croissants, and kippers or sausage or haddock or poached eggs or indeed any combination you care to request.

Michael Wignall, the current chef, produced some remarkable dishes, on my last visit. The "Assiette of Foie Gras and Perigord Duckling" was an offering (on the same plate) of no less than six entirely different presentations of these ingredients, including quick-seared foie gras and also a torchon (which tastes like the smoothest ever pate but is 100% foie gras). The Chocolate and Orange Fondant, which I had for dessert, had melted chocolate run oozily from the center when you first dug your spoon into it. All of this extravagance is served on zealously polished wooden tables, lit by white candles, and sporting more silverware than I have ever seen at one place-setting before. The Wedgwood china is a cheerful sprinkling of pink flowers on a white background, and no artistry is spared in the presentation of the remarkable gourmet dishes which waft from the kitchen.

Part of what I like about going to Michaels Nook is that it attains that rare resonance of being ultra-elegant, yet very relaxed. (You are requested, even expected, to dress up for dinner—but then, that is one of my favorite things to do.) I love to go there on my own, after racing around to libraries or conferences in England, to walk and sit and read. Friendly guests will usually talk to you after dinner, if you feel like company, but you don't need to be social if you don't want to. I have taken my husband along to stay, which was wonderful too; but I also enjoy being there on my own.

Each of the bedrooms is decorated differently (by now I've sampled many decors!), and one bathroom even has an actual Victorian bathtub which must have been built for someone about seven feet tall. The usual impression of the hotel's bedrooms is that of antique wooden bedsteads, armchairs covered in velvet, polished cotton prints, and luscious, heavy curtains. The comfort level is supreme. In addition, a burstingly energetic young person brings you early morning tea in bed, at whatever hour you've requested, the previous evening, and you can munch your homemade shortbread and look out of the window at the hills glowing in early morning sunlight.

If you like seeing literary sights, you can easily walk down the road to Dove Cottage, where William Wordsworth lived for several years with his sister Dorothy, and later with his wife, Mary as well. The family eventually moved up the hill to Rydal Mount, which you can also visit. Beatrix Potter's farm is a bit further away (you need a car to go there), but you can easily reach John Ruskin's summer home by taking the bus from Grasmere and then a ferry across Coniston Lake.

If you want to see more of the Lake District scenery, Elizabeth Gifford recommends booking a day-long or half-day tour with a company called Mountain Goat, which takes groups in a small van on a wide choice of itineraries. The Giffords are also happy to loan you a guidebook for walking, which you can take out for the day. I have several favorite walks, by now, going to Easedale Tarn, or Loughrigg Fell, or towards Patterdale. And I love to take a rowboat out on the lake, especially in autumn, and look at the leaves changing colour. Hiking boots are a good idea, but I have done many walks in running shoes (or "trainers," as the British call them). No special equipment is required: merely a love for beautiful countryside.

There are spectacular views from everywhere, and at any season. In summer, there are vivid pink foxgloves, and in autumn, the ferns on the hills turn orangey-brown. In winter, you can walk up to and beyond the snow line, and spring is heralded by blossoms on the fruit trees (there's one apple tree in particular that I love). How could I leave out the golden daffodils? There are seas of them, along the roadside, waving in the wind, against the grey stone walls.

The other fine feature of the hotel is the chance to see the owners' magnificent Great Danes, who stroll in occasionally to keep Mr. G. company in the office. When Hebe won a trophy at Crufts, a couple of years ago, there was exultation and rejoicing, as you can imagine. On my latest visit, the Giffords were hosting a day-long dog show for the Pennines Great Dane Club. (Imagine ninety-five Great Danes on the lawn. As Mr. G. remarked, it was "a very English scene.")

When you look up the website for Michaels Nook, your first impression will probably be "Oh, no, we could never . . . " But you must keep in mind that their prices are all-inclusive: breakfast, five-course dinner, and a beautiful place to stay. (The cooking, I must add, is as sophisticated as nearly anything you could get in London.) Alternately, you can go there just for a dinner, or even for lunch (though it's essential to book ahead for a single meal, if you are not in residence at the hotel). With so much extravagance on offer at breakfast and dinner, I usually skip lunch (there is always a plate of fruit in my room, and so I put an apple or kiwi fruit in my pocket, for walking on the fells). You can also order a packed lunch to take away, which I usually do on the last day, to eat on the train to Oxford. A little salad, some homemade bread, artisan cheese, perhaps smoked salmon and the remains of a pate that had been served at the night before . . . I usually sit looking out of the window, and think about what the weather was like, this last time, and what the birds sounded like while I was sitting out on the terrace, and which new walks I've discovered. Michaels Nook is simply the best of the best, a vintage country house hotel.

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