Travels – Page 9

Lisbon to Albufeira

While walking around in Caldas, Liesel had purchased some cough sweets for me. It was nice to be able to stop coughing for a short while. But now, in Lisbon, I had little time to think about minor medical inconveniences.

The good news is, our second bus would depart just a few bays away from where the first one had parked up. Our tickets were scanned by the driver, Liesel boarded and I had time to visit the public convenience conveniently located just another few bays away, but there was no time to visit the shop to buy anything.

When I got back to the bus, I thought it was strange that the lady driver had been replaced by a large man. But these things happen. A commotion from behind, some plonker bashing on the window, calling my name. Oops, it was Liesel. Yes, I am the plonker for very nearly boarding the wrong bus and ending up in Timbuktu or something.

The display on the bus showed that, as we proceeded in a southerly direction, the temperature outside was slowly rising.

Our final destination was Albufeira on the south coast of the Algarve region. An area visited by my baby sister Pauline half a century ago! Our friends from Anchorage, Cath and Hans, are staying here for a couple of weeks and they very kindly invited us to join them. Which is why we’re here at this time.

Hans picked us up from the bus station very quickly and took us back to his and Cath’s house a bit outside the main city centre. Hans drove a car, he didn’t literally pick us up. Not in this heat. It’s a lovely house but what drew our attention first was the pool. Having dipped our toes yesterday in David and Glen’s pool, we now had a taste for such luxury.

We sat outside and ate and chatted and watched the Moon rise, following Jupiter into the sky. We spoke about mosquitoes, but I don’t think we encountered any. And we both slept much better. Since you ask, my coughing fits were by now less frequent and less violent.

We sat around a lot but Hans drove us to see Praia dos Arrifes, a beach with cliffs and golden sands.

I found the walk along the rocky, undulating path quite difficult, because I was wearing sandals. But I managed not to trip or fall or slip or twist an ankle.

We love birdwatching and so the walk on the well-constructed boardwalk at the lagoon, Lagoa dos Salgados, was brilliant.

We have our herons at home of course, but we only usually see only one at a time. There were dozens here, some in the water, some standing by the water and many higher up, not quite hiding in the bushes.

There was one stork too, standing in the water and, best of all, a long way in the distance, flamingoes. They migrate here from Africa to enjoy a cooler Winter. Well, their timing is a little off this year, I think! It was the first time Liesel and I had seen flamingoes in the wild. But, as I say, way, way over there.

Here for the birds but we stayed for the goats and sheep, being shepherded underneath the boardwalk. Yes, of course I started singing that song from The Sound of Music.

The boardwalk came to and end, so to complete the loop, we walked over the sand dunes and back along the beach.

As always, it’s a good workout walking on sand, and through the sea when a wave deigned to wash over our feet. It was sparsely populated, and we can only imagine how busy the beach gets during the high tourist/visitor season.

On the way home, we stopped off at a supermarket. The man at checkout asked if we really wanted the pineapple, freshly imported from Azores. Well, yeah, why not? Because it costs twenty-eight euros. Blimey! Liesel gently cradled it back to the shelf.

Indoors, Hans kindly shared his bottle of beer with me, Chimay, brewed by Trappist monks in Belgium. Mmm.

Again, we sat outside chatting and watching the Moon rise, about an hour later than last night, which meant of course that we got to bed about an hour later. And we had a good kip. Followed by an early rise.

Yes, a relatively early rise. Why? So we could visit a couple of places before it became too hot. So grateful to Hans for doing all the driving, thank you!

We drove to Alte and amongst other things, we admired the many, many, many roundabouts, each adorned with a sculpture or other work of art.

These might be the only dolphins we see on this trip, but as Liesel said, it’s unlikely that anyone would drive across rather than around the roundabouts.

Alte as its name suggested, was high up in the hills, and in fact, quite hilly. Some of the street art is good fun.

It was good to see that yarn-bombing is a universal phenomenon. It looks like the local equivalent of the WI ladies have been very busy with their crochet hooks.

There is an amphitheatre, with an old stage made from stones, although I suspect some of the seating is more modern. We had a nice, easy walk, taking into account the temperature, the gradient and how our various bodies and muscles were reacting. The cobble stones were as slippery as those in Porto, and vehicles, mostly very small cars, navigated the narrow streets in a very skilful manner. We just jumped out of the way when necessary, cowering behind wheelie bins.

The colour of the earth matched the temperature beautifully, too. Here and there we saw cactus, but maybe not as many as I’d expected.

There is a castle in Silves which we visited. Another hilly place, of course!

Photos displayed in the church of St Mary, of local people, somehow hinted at an Islamic past. And, sure enough, we enjoyed picking out the Islamic geometric patterns at the castle and elsewhere.

The castle is a main visitor attraction and so was probably the busiest place we saw on this trip, apart from the bridge in Porto. We walked around the ramparts, with no safety net, something I’m sure wouldn’t be allowed in England, unless they installed railings. Being the king of the castle has its benefits, we could see for miles in every direction, buildings over there, well-organised crops over there and, best of all, if you found yourself between two of the merlons on top of the battlements, you could enjoy a nice, refreshing breeze, for a few moments.

We stayed at the castle for lunch, rather than, as originally planned, walking down the hill to a particular place, and all the way back up again! Yes, I think the need for comfort outweighed the need to walk and increase the step count. I don’t think any of us expected it to be this warm at this time of the year.

Over lunch, Liesel started telling us about Dora B Trail. The name rang a bell, maybe an old mutual school friend of theirs? But no.

Door of Betrayal

In most cases, medieval castles had several doors of different types, although small in number since these were vulnerable points of access and needed their own defence mechanisms. In fact, it was common to find multiple defensive devices associated with the doors, such as corbels with machicolation, flanking towers, pits, barbicans, etc.

As well as the main door, which connected the citadel to the old city, there was also the so-called ‘Door of Betrayal’, opening on the opposite side of the main door and with direct access to the outside, in a disguised form and with smaller dimensions. Through this access it was possible to carry out raids on the enemy, as well as to discreetly bring in military reinforcements or supplies. We cannot exclude the existence of other false doors, the purpose of which was to break up besieging forces who, after making their breach, were not led to the interior of the fortified compound, but rather to dead-end Compartments.

We decided we all need a Door of Betrayal at home too, a way to get rid of unwanted callers.

On the way home, we stopped for popsicles.

Very nice, very tasty and very refreshing. As always, we’re thinking, we must remember this place for our next visit. And next time, we’ll come a bit later in the year, when it’s cooler. And then, of course, we might be more inclined to visit the archeological museums and other venues inside. But that’s all in the future.

Porto to Lisbon

So it’s now late in the afternoon. We went for another walk, again in the direction of the river. The plan was to walk all the way back to Jardim do Morro from where we could watch the Sun set. We walked along some streets we’d not seen before. Best of all, there was even a branch of a much loved, much missed high street shop from home.

Well, I do recall the last time I visited a C&A, in London’s Oxford Steet. And on this occasion, I felt no urge to go in and buy another green coat. I was warm enough, thank you.

And as the Sun moved lower in the sky, it beautifully illuminated the local architecture.

After all this time, we are still finding churches dedicated to Saints we’d never heard of before. We found our way back to the Luis I Bridge, but this time, the upper level, along which runs the train track. We found it, yes, and so did hundreds, possibly thousands of other people, all here for the sunset. Which is strange because the Sun goes down behind buildings and trees here, it doesn’t disappear into the ocean. As each metro train passed, the bridge shook, but everyone moved away from the tracks, and only a couple of drivers had to toot their horn to warn people.

Looking up towards the gardens, we could see it was already packed, so we decided to stay on the bridge.

Watching the Sun and the people. It wasn’t a spectacular sunset, depending on your criteria, but I got a few good pictures.

No point boarding the metro here, so we walked towards home, and took public transport a bit later. For dinner, we ate at a place called Mamma Mia, a mere four-minute walk from home.

It didn’t take long to pack in the morning, but the walk up the hill to Marquês was tough!

Some of the paving stones and tiles felt quite slippery, even with my trainers on, so I can only imagine how perilous it is to walk around this hilly city when it’s been raining.

Two rides took us to the main railway station, Campanhã. Now, I don’t know if we missed a sign, or just decided to follow the wrong people, but it was a ridiculously long walk from the metro to the station. There were no signs, well, until we saw one directing us to the bus station. Then, as I was thinking maybe we should backtrack, I saw a very tiny little sign, with a titchy tiny rendition of the CP logo (Combiois de Portugal, the train operator), along with a minuscule arrow pointing up a long slope. Other people were plodding upwards, so we thought, why not?

This long haul took us to beneath the station platforms, hooray! That’s progress. While Liesel looked after the bags, I went for a wander, to try and ascertain where we should be. I found a toilet, I got some water, I saw TV screens with useful information, including the fact that our train would depart from platform 6. I also noticed that if we’d got off the metro and turned left instead of right, we would have found the station’s main entrance straightaway. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we tend to arrive at places far too early. If there’s a 50-50 chance, sorry, but I’ll get it wrong.

Our train arrived, and we found our carriage and our seats. Numbers 32 and 38. Aren’t we sitting next to each other, asked Liesel? Yes, of course we are, said I. But the seat numbering system is bizarre. I couldn’t work it out at all. But yes, 32 is next to 38.

During our trip, we had to change trains at Alfarelos. If we’d wanted to avoid the 2½ hour layover here, we could have caught the 6am train. And if we’d know what a dry, deserted, desolate place Alfarelos station is, we might have given that option some serious consideration. The Portuguese countryside was interesting but then, so was the book I was reading. But Alfarelos?

In the small café just over the road, the elderly lady had no English. My limited Portuguese deserted me so I felt bad that my request for an americano sounded so brusque, but in the heat of the moment, I forgot the words for ‘please’, ‘por favor’. As the lady wiped and swept up all around us, we realised: she’s hinting, this place is closing.

Fortunately, there was an air-conditioned waiting room at the station, and a WC, but no other facilities. And it really was too hot to walk around. 98°F, 37°C was the highest temperature we recorded. Hot, and dry, and no breeze at all.

As my addled brain carried on addling, I realised that there is a lot in common between Portugal and Japan. For instance, thank you: ‘obrigado’ and ‘arigato’. And the station announcements, even here at this small place in the middle of nowhere, are preceded by quite long, very melodic jingles, just like in Japan. And another rule or convention in both places is: no tipping.

One other couple was waiting for the same train as us. Other trains came and went. A few people came and went. One poor soul approached the ticket office, which actually was staffed. She’d caught the wrong train and needed to go back somewhere. This isn’t the sort of place you’d want to be stranded.

Our train arrived and we departed for Caldas da Rainha. The view from the window was unchanging for miles and miles. Liesel crocheted for a while, I read and did puzzles. I went for a walk, but was limited to two carriages. What I did find was that the other end of the carriage we were sitting in was much, much cooler. Its AC must have been working.

The railway station at Caldas da Rainha is very pretty, especially once you get outside.

We had to wait a while for a taxi, so I walked around a bit and decided to answer the call of nature. The toilet’s over there, in one direction, but you have to get the key to the door over there, in the opposite direction, just go to the last door. I took the key back and vastly increased my step count for the day.

The blue tile panels at the station depict various events and people from the town’s history.

The taxi arrived and took us away from the town centre, up into the hills. Some of the roads are very steep, even cars have to take a run-up, or so our driver would have us believe. Twenty five minutes later, we arrived at our destination where my brother David and his wife Glen gave us a very warm welcome and a very cold beer.

This was only the second time I’d met them both, and a first time for Liesel. They live in a large house, not quite in the middle of nowhere, but certainly not on top of the neighbours.

We sat outside and chatted for a while, drank beer, cooled off. I’d mistakenly thought it might be cooler, higher up in the hills, but no.

Apart from the main house with its many rooms and hidden nooks and crannies, there are many outhouses. In one email, I now realise, David was joking about their goats. They don’t really have any. Just one cat and a budgie.

I’d forgotten that David has a very slight Liverpool accent, and also, having lived in the Netherlands for four decades, there’s a bit of Dutch in there too.

If you’re in the area and need a lemon, this is the place to come. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a productive lemon tree. Not even my sister’s in Christchurch, sorry Pauline!

There are apple trees too and a couple of grapevines. The nearest village is a nearly half-hour walk down the hill, and we thought we’d pay a visit the following day. But after a hard day’s travel and a hard day’s night, not sleeping well because of the heat and a bleeping mosquito, but mainly because I had acquired an annoying cough, we decided to stay put and have a ‘rest day’.

And that was exactly what we needed to do, a bit of pottering about and a guided tour of the garden.

Liesel and I even donned our costumes and ventured into the pool for a while, which was very refreshing indeed. I like the Sun a lot, but even I found myself thinking ‘it’s too hot’… and I believe this lower tolerance has become worse since I had Covid that time. Sitting in the shade, trying to commit the blue skies to memory, so that the dark grey skies at home lose their hold over my mood.

David was a Japanese warrior in a previous life and he now has a collection of Japanese swords. He showed me one, which I actually touched, by mistake, but I could see how sharp it was. And during another conversation, I again realised that Portugal and Japan are natural soul mates in the sense that both have very fish heavy diets.

David likes to cook and he prepared chili con pumpkin for us. It was quite spicy. In fact, it was very spicy. Actually, there came a point when there was no more steam left to come whistling out of my ears. It was very nice and very tasty, but boy, was it hot!

Flight features a lot in David and Glens’ lives too. Glen worked for KLM for over 40 years. And David enjoys building model aeroplanes. He showed us one by dragging the box out from under the bed. It’s a Freewing A-10 Thunderbolt II “Warthog” Twin 80mm EOF jet, in case you want to order one too.

Here is an impression of what it will look like when complete. For now, none of the wiring has been connected, there is no battery nor remote control, so it won’t be flying anywhere any time soon. When complete, it will be over five feet in length and have a five-foot wingspan. It takes up far less space, in its place, in its box, under the bed!

This was our second and, for this visit, final night wih David and Glen. I’m sure there are many more family stories that we can share.
Thank you both again for your welcome and your hospitality and for the fantastic weather! But for now, time to move on.

I tried to book a taxi online, but the app didn’t work. It couldn’t allocate a driver ahead of time. And, because it therefore didn’t know who the driver would be, it couldn’t calculate the fare. Uh? Error, you can’t do that. No, but you won’t let me do anything else either! So David kindly booked a taxi from a different company for us. It arrived earlier than anticipated to take us back to Caldas, this time to the bus station.

The hour wait for our bus passed quickly enough, we each explored that part of town near the bus station while the other guarded the bags in the café. In which, they’ve been very creative with a (n apparent) random collection of leftover wall tiles. From a distance, you can see an image.

Although three buses left for Lisbon within 10 minutes of each other, we actually managed to board the correct one. In between sight-seeing through the window of the bus, we read and crocheted, guess who did what?

Just outside the capital city, we passed under this:

Ooh, exciting, an old Roman aqueduct. The map says: Arcaria do vale de Alcântara do Aqueduto. Roman? Well, some of the actual contruction workers might have come from Italy I suppose, but this is one of Portugal’s most remarkable examples of engineering from, wait for it, the seventeenth century.

We passed by another Lisbon landmark, but we’ll explore this city more fully later on.

Our main concern right now was that our bus was running a little late, we had a connection to make, and we didn’t know how far we had to walk from this bus to the next. So it was a relief to finally arrive at Lisbon’s bus station, disembark and retrieve our bags from underneath.

Did we catch the next bus? Did we reach our final destination? DUN. DUN. DUN DUN D-D-D-D- de de de di de dun de…

Turtle, trees and tiles

I’m the first to admit that I’m no fashion expert. I would never comment on whatever somebody chooses to wear. But I might laugh to myself at their outfit. A few times in Northenden, we’ve seen what, at first glance, are naked young ladies prowling the streets. They’re not really au naturel of course, but the choice of clothing is flesh-coloured, tight trousers and top. I dare you not to do a double-take when you see such a thing in your peripheral vision. And, if they’re walking along the road in front of you, how hard can it be not to take a picture? Well, very hard. An old bloke papping a young girl from behind, while walking?

She was sitting at the bus stop as I passed her and I wondered, does she know? Would I go out in flesh-coloured outerwear? Only as a dare. Or for charity. But the rest of my wander that day was uneventful.

In the evening, LIesel and I watched a chat online between Mary Beard and David Olusoga. They were talking about Roman Emperors and in particular Mary’s latest book, Emperor of Rome.

Imagine my surprise a few days later when the postman delivered a parcel. It was a copy of this very book. This very weighty tome. It’s so long since I booked tickets for the online event, I’d forgotten I must have ordered the book as well. Something to look forward to when I want something to read and something with which to build up my arm muscles.

On another occasion, I went out for a haircut. I know, there’s not much left, since I only went five minutes ago. Or so it seems. And we felt a bit sad as we walked by the empty shop formerly known as Quirky Misfits.

As we ambled along by the river, a man said to us, ‘there are no birds’. I thought he meant, there are no herons today. Which wouldn’t be a surprise. But no, he was right, there were no birds at all, no ducks on the water, not even any pigeons flying around, and no birdsong from the trees. Weird.

It was our turn to collect the children from school again this week. The first question they usually ask is, where’s the snack? When we remember, we take them a small snack from home. But right now, we’re out of snacks. We’re trying to eat everything before setting off on our trip. So, after a very civilised discussion, we took them to Head Over Heels for a snack, cake, and a couple of hours of running around and climbing and sliding.

We took them to their home for dinner because Liesel and I had a show to go to in the evening. Another pair of tickets purchased a long, long time ago. We went home and changed, then drove into Manchester parking close to the venue, Stoller Hall. The support act was Jack Badcock, and he was very entertaining, good songs and funny stories.

But the main attraction was Eddi Reader. Yes, we saw her last year in a cave, and a few times before that, but she always puts on a good show, and her set is never predictable.

Eddi’s band includes her husband John as well as Boo Hewerdine. Yes, I sang along sotto voce, except when invited to join in, when I turned my volume up to 11. No, not really. She performed Charlie is my Darlin’ and I remembered my old biology teacher, Martin Hyman, while discussing the theory of evolution, breaking into song, singing Charlie is my Darwin.

You don’t think about teachers for ages, and then two memories come along at once. The actor David McCallum sadly died this week. He played Illya Kuryakin in one of my favourite TV programmes at the time, The Man from UNCLE. So, in French lessons at school, whenever Jim Merritt used the phrase ‘il y a’, the class would respond with ‘Kuryakin’.

That’s enough about school, here’s Eddi again.

We had a good night’s sleep ahead of our travels. It didn’t take long to pack in the morning and the taxi arrived on time for our trip to the airport, Terminal 3. Check-in? Easy. Securiy check? No problem. We were through within twenty minutes and had a couple of hours to pass before boarding the plane bound for Porto. This was a first visit to Portugal for both of us.

The flight? Two and a half hours occupied by a puzzle and a good book. Remind me not to buy Ryanair coffee on board though, it tastes of plastic. I had to chew gum to take away the after-taste.

We landed just before a very quick sunset and although in retrospect, we think we bought the wrong type of ticket from the machine, we took the Metro to our place of abode for the next few days, in Porto.

One of the first things we saw out on the street was this tree, nicely swaddled in pink stuff. We saw trees similarly wrapped in many other colours too, and it was a couple of days before we found out what this was all about.

This was the view from out second storey apartment. Maria, our host, showed us all the sites and restaurants and places of interest on the map, but I’m not sure we took much in. I for one focussed on a couple of locations. We’re only here for a couple of days, after all.

We didn’t have anything in for breakfast, so we went for a walk the next morning. We knew Porto was hilly, but I took that to mean, it would undulate, you’d walk up and down in turn, stretching different muscles in turn. But no. On this first walk, we walked down and down and down.

It’s an old city and it will be nice when it’s finished. This building for instance has a decent façade, but not much going on behind.

Many of the buildings look attrcative to us because they’re covered in tiles, all sorts of patterns and colours.

It’s a Catholic country and Porto doesn’t disappoint with the number of churches and chapels.

For example, this chapel is of course quite beautiful in its own right. But the main point of interest is the faded Pillsbury Doughboy on the wall down the road a bit.

Graffiti is the same everywhere, we realise, lots of ugly tags and rude words, but with the occasional work of art. And then there’s this homespun philosophy:

Liesel admired the crochet decorating this staircase. I wonder whether there’a a local equivalent of the WI responsible?

We’d only found a few euros at home, so we thought we should get some out of a machine. The nearest ATM was half a mile from our location when we trusted our fate to Google Maps. We both extracted some cash, to confirm that both our cards would indeed work. And after this point, we saw an ATM everywhere we looked. On one street, there were four shops in a row, each with a cash machine outside.

Similarly, we didn’t come across a tourist information office. Until we did, and then there were three different ones all located on one particular corner.

There’s a big market, all under cover, where we could have bought any amount of fish and meat, fruit and cheese. I’ve never seen so many cans of sardines. I’ve never seen so many different brands of tins of sardines. In the end, we just had coffee and what turned out to be a very squishy cake. Which made my hands sticky. So I went into the facility to wash them. As I was standing by the sink, giving them a good scrub, the cleaner shouted at me, I’m guessing, to go away. I thought it was because she was about to clean that set of wash basins. But no, it turns out I was in the ladies’. Oh well.

On the top floor of the market, there is this model of the whole structure, which is built on several levels. We entered from street level on the ground floor, and left from the third floor, also at that point, at street level.

As we were walking along minding our own business. I was approached by a young man with a clipboard. ‘Do you speak English?’ he asked. ‘Nein,’ I replied, putting a defensive hand up. He apologised and moved on. I’m not a fan of chuggers at home, never mind in strange cities.

We had a sit down in St Anthony’s Church, and we both lit a candle for our lost, loved ones.

As we wandered around, I was keeping count of the buskers. Until I lost count, there were so many of them. Two were playing guitars, one had a barrel organ and what appeared to be a trained pigeon dancing. We saw one singer and one saxophone player.

And on the whole, we were still walking down and down, towards the river Doura. And here we were entertained by three performers in a row. A guitar version of Coldplay’s Paradise, someone singing Elton John’s Your Song and the last guy was singing George Michael’s Careless Whisper. And there were plenty more buskers where they came from. A very musical city indeed.

We crossed the river on Ponte Luis I, and there was a guy walking along the top. We wondered whether he was going to jump in, but I suspect he just gets his kicks from watching tourists looking and pointing at him, wondering whether he’s going to jump in the river or not!

Lunch was meh, nothing special, but I had my first Portuguese beer. The views of the city, to the north of the river especially, were stunning. It is a very pretty city.

And just look at that sky! Proper sky blue. I never knew I wanted to see a turtle made out of old car tyres, until I actually saw one.

And then we took the teleferico, the gondola, to save walking up the hill.

It was a beautiful day and we were just about done walking, so we knew we couldn’t, on this occasion, hang around to see the Sun set. So we took the metro back home again.

Siesta time. I’m not sure whether I completely nodded off, but I was surprised to be woken by my phone. It was David, my brother, who by some strange coincidence lives in Portugal. And, yes, we’ll be visiting him very soon.

Time for another quick walk to a local supermarket to buy some food for dinner tonight. Cheese sandwiches and crisps, how does that sound? Suitably Portuguese? I was fascinated to see that the local authorities employed Yayoi Kusama to design the local car parking facilities.

A very nice man in the supermarket helped Liesel use the bread slicing machine. He might hang around all the time, waiting for clueless visitors. But how nice, that they trust customers to slice their own bread like that.

We walked and metroed back home again. What a wonderful first whole day in Porto, we feel well exercised. The only downer was seeing news that ‘our’ tree has been vandalised and cut down. Sycamore Gap will never be the same again. And to think we were lucky enough to visit it just four months ago.

We’re in a quiet area in Porto, we’ve just heard a couple of dogs, and the cleaners outside, but it is really quiet. So we were delighted to be serenaded by a soprano practicing her scales somewhere along the road. Liesel wouldn’t let me go out on the balcony to harmonise.

Our second and final full day started with a sort of croissant and a slice of bread accompanied by a cup of tea with no milk. We didn’t want to buy too much stuff that we’d have to lug around Portugal.

Again, when we left our accommodation, we turned right to walk downhill. Well, it’s a 50-50 chance!

We didn’t go into Clérigos Church and Tower. On another occasion, I might want to climb the tower, but not today. I was following one of my GPs’ advice: pace yourself. No need to feel uncomfortably short of breath in a strange place.

We heard the bells tell us when it was ten o’clock and part of me wondered what was the significance? Well, just a few minutes later, my phone reminded me that tickets were now on sale for Seth Lakeman in February. So I bought a couple of tickets. And the whole process was straightforward, just a bit disappointed that we never had the chance to select our own seats. And the usual whige about being charged extra for electronic tickets.

We found a fountain and Liesel thought it was a good place for a selfie. The Fonte dos Leões, the Fountain of Lions, recycles its water and is lit up at night.

Here is another Catholic Church, and the picture is composed of tiles, each hand painted and fired and, phew, glued on the wall in the right place. That would have taken some planning.

We encountered more buskers today of course. One young lady was playing slide guitar and I kept expecting her to segue into Dire Straits’ Private Investigations, but she just carried on doing her own stuff. We can’t throw money at all of these street entertainers of course, but she was the first of two today. The other one was this guy dancing with a life-size doll.

He had some good moves and she just followed him around, the expression on her face not changing at all.

Liesel had read something about freak, deformed trees in Porto. We found them in the park, Jardim da Cordoaria.

I think they’re London Plane trees, but it does depend who you believe. They’re certainly different to the plane trees in actual London. They may have been cut back and regrown, or they may be affected by fungus, there are many stories. Also in this park, you can see a set of sculptures featuring jolly gentlemen being daft. So of course, I had to join them.

This turns out to have been the final work by sculptor Juan Muñoz who died in 2001. Thanks for the laughs, Juan.

We carried on walking and when looking west, thought, wouldn’t it be nice to see the Sun set? Yes, but it’s a bit hazy in that direction. Well, all the better for a nice red sunset!

We came across this graffiti, whch turns out to be world famous. After a ridiculous amount of time on Google, it seems that it just means ‘Tagging is not dead’. Well, some of us wish tagging were dead, and the space left for other artwork.

We passed this statue a couple of times. It depicts a local bishop from about a hundred years ago. He’s very angular, isn’t he? But what really caught my eye was the fact that he’s wearing spectacles.

I had a strange synaesthetic experience today. Usually, my synaesthesia is confined to ‘seeing’ flashes of colour when I hear a sudden crash or bang. But today, when I first saw this pattern of paving stones…

… I immediately ‘heard’ the sound of fireworks going off, phweee… very strange. Also, I wasn’t feeling tired nor stressed at this point, which is when I am normally suscepible to such phenomena.

Time for a coffee and cake? Of course. We sat inside to avoid the coach party and the smoker that arrived and sat outside as we were queueing. It was nice to sit down for a while. And the coffee was so good, I had a second, which is also very unusual for me.

Liesel had some work to do, so we decided to return to base. A short walk and a short metro ride and another short walk later, here we are. When we disembarked at Marquês, we spent some time looking at the colourfully wrapped trees and other displays of colour. It’s all part of an art installation called Chromatic Emotions – Porto ’23.

I do like this one, and it’s only enhanced of course by some supermodel photo-bombing.

Back in doors, Liesel worked while I wrote, we had some lunch, listened to some bloke called Mick the Knife on the radio and then played some other music.

Yes, this week’s show was Friends and Friendship and you can catch it here, if you missed it by accident when it was broadcast on Wythenshawe Radio.

Center Parcs

Our next adventure? Yes, a week in Center Parcs with Helen, Jenny, Liam, Martha and William. The seven of us were to occupy a single lodge in the holiday village in Sherwood Forest, the first to open, in 1987. So it’s the same age as Helen. Any plans I had for a long, luxurious lie-in were put on hold for a few days.

Liesel and I rose early, finished our packing and set off for Jenny’s house. There, we loaded two cars with people and enough stuff for six months. Or so it seemed: I think most of the paraphernalia was for the children. Including their bikes which we mounted on the back of our car.

Quite rightly, Martha was concerned that the bikes might fall off on the journey. We reassured her that the straps would hold them in place. Telling her that if the bikes fell off, then so would the back door of the car, well, in retrospect, maybe that wasn’t what she needed to hear.

The weather looked promising and the two-hour drive was straightforward, over and around the Peaks and into Nottinghamshire. The one and only other time I’d been to Sherwood Forest was in about 1984, for work. I remember being pestered by wasps at the pub.

After arriving and checking in at the main gates, we ate lunch in the Village Square. I know a few people who have taken short breaks at Center Parcs, but I didn’t really know what to expect. It’s a large community of about 400 acres in the middle of the forest. Other than driving to the lodge to unload the car, and reloading a few days later, cars aren’t allowed on the roads. Which leaves the park free for the enjoyment of cyclists, pedestrians, buggies, skaters and scooterers. Even on our first little walk to the village square, I was surprised and delighted to see squirrels and moorhens and geese and ducks.

4pm was the time to unload the vehicles. Jenny entered the lodge first, catching a member of staff putting her feet up for a few minutes. Oops.

I don’t know how many bags and cases and boxes we carried in for the seven of us, but then I recall that when Liesel and I went away for just a couple of days at Christmas, we had 16 bags.

I thought this oak tree was hundreds of years old, but no, it was planted in the late 19th century. Why is it crooked? The strange ‘wolf’ tree form was created in the mid-20th Century when it was about 90 years old and the largest tree in the forest. Pine trees were planted around the oak and as they grew, their canopies covered over the oak’s branches. To reach the warmth of sunlight the gnarly old oak opened its boughs wide and twisted them between the pine canopies. When Center Parcs arrived, the pines were removed giving the oak unimpeded access to daylight. Neither William nor I climbed the tree.

We had an early dinner, my kind of meal really, lots of snacks, nibbles, crackers, falafels, pita chips, spinach dip. We’d planned to go swimming afterwards, so I was conscious that I shouldn’t eat too much: no need to sink on the first day.

The pool area is big and even in the evening, very busy, lots of families, lots of children and, I’m pleased to say, I wasn’t the oldest person there.

Martha and William encouraged me to go on The Rapids. As the name suggests, you’re taken down a slide, with multiple turns and bumps and plunges. What I didn’t anticipate was getting cramp in one toe. Which meant, I was even more out of control of my body, I kept bumping into Liam, I couldn’t apologise enough, but I couldn’t stop either, in the fast flowing water, to give my foot a chance to sort itself out. The third and final section was horrible too. Most of the water went up my nose. Glad I did it, but no need to do it again. Maybe just the first section.

We queued for the Grand Cascade boat ride. You hold onto the circular boat as it, relatively gently, travels down a 600-metre shute. At the end of a very enjoyable ride, everyone climbed out of our vessel, including William. ‘Are you alright?’ asked the lifeguard as I floundered in the boat, which was now half full of water. ‘Yeah, grandson just stomped on my nuts’, I explained.

We went to bed later than I’m now used to, but even so, it took ages for us to fall asleep. First night in a new place and new bed is always a challenge of course, but I think I’d ODed on caffeine too.

One of the benefits of still being awake at around midnight was that I heard owls hooting outside. Next time, I laughingly told myself, I’ll go out and see if I can see one.

The next morning, Liesel rose early and went for a walk around the village. I would (maybe) have joined if I’d been awake. Martha and William fed the geese and ducks that visited our back door. The bird food is supplied, and the birds know it. And so do the squirrels! Also queueing for free food was a blackbird, more baby moorhens and of course, pigeons.

We went for a swim in the morning and it was much busier than last night. In fact, it was so crowded that at one point, I had to get away from the throng and go for a walk around the pool area. I don’t know how many tens of thousands of steps remain unaccounted for because of course I didn’t have my pedometer with me.

In other news, today marked a very significant anniversary. Never mind D-Day in 1944. Or the UK referendum which continued our membership of the EEC. No, on 6th June, 1973, I went into school to sit one of my A-level exams. Halfway through, I just got up and ran to the toilets. I’d been having stomach pains for a few days. The GP had put it down to ‘exam nerves’. I know what exam nerves feel like, and this was totally different. But in those days, the doctor knew best.

Somehow, I got home, Mum took me to see the doctor and thank goodness it was a different one. A quick examination confirmed: appendicitis. Dad was at Epsom, enjoying Derby Day, so Mum came to hospital with me, in the ambulance.

I was told later that my appendix was removed ‘just in time’. A black shrivelled up thing was how it was described.

During my ten days in hospital, I sat one more exam, invigilated by my then maths teacher, Jenny Nelson. Whom I still feel bad about, because I never thanked her properly.

It never occurred to me in that hospital bed, during a hot Summer, that fifty years later, I would be having a holiday with my children and my grandchildren.

After lunch, we walked over to the Aerial Adventure. All the girls signed up for this challenge, us boys volunteered to take pictures. To be fair, I think William would have joined in but he’s just not quite tall enough this year.

The adventure entails walking among the treetops, on wobbly boards, through a tunnel, and negotiating various other obstacles before the final zip wire ride across the lake.

Liam and William took a boat out onto the lake and I thought I’d stay on land to get some different photos.

Sadly, my videos were no good. I blame it on the fact that my new phone behaves differently to the old one. Nevertheless, it was quite exciting to see Jenny, Liesel, Helen and Martha fly over the lake, shrieking with enjoyment.

In the evening, we dined at Las Iguanas, where I was surprised to see that many of the waiting staff were robots. They carry the food to your table, and a real human (or so I believe them to be) serves it up to us customers.

Later in the evening, Liesel and I were relaxing on the sofa, when Christmas appeared.

Good night, Merry Christmas, sleep well!

After breakfast, the children wanted to swim again but Liesel and I decided to take a day off. Liesel had some work to do, and as regular readers will be aware, I was a long, long way behind with this blog. So after watching Martha and William play in the Pirate’s Cove for a while, Liesel and I went and sat in the café that overlooks the rapids, where we drank coffee, typed and observed.

Jack-in-the-pulpit, or Arisaema Triphyllum, to use its botanical name, is a perennial wildflower native to north America. It’s sometimes called a bog onion. Which, as the sign says, is quite appropriate, because this one is in fact a urinal, which I think all us gents were too intimidated to use.

Today’s adventure for the children was the climbing walls. I think they both did remarkably well, climbing several different walls, each with its own challenges. I wouldn’t have climbed nearly as high, even knowing the safety equipment was in proper working order.

Later in the afternoon, I went for a solo wander over to the Nature Walk. I followed well-made paths, walked through the trees, and was glad to be away from people for a short while. So what wonders of nature did I behold on this special trail? One rabbit, one squirrel and, er, some pretty flowers.

On our last full day here, I got up early, finished writing and posted the blog. Liesel decided to work again, while I went swimming with everyone else. I say swimming, but the pool isn’t designed for serious swimming, it’s too busy and the wrong shape. So when I say I swam two lengths, it’s not that impressive, really.

Liesel and I took the children to the playground in the afternoon. Two playgrounds in fact. The first one was for 8-13 year olds, and so the equipment was quite a stretch for both of them.

Later on, time for 10-pin bowling. I didn’t participate because my back has been giving me gip on and off for a couple of weeks. Jenny didn’t play either, because of her knee issues. Being a mere observer, I couldn’t help but notice there was definitely a slight camber to the left hand side, that’s where most of the errant bowls ended up.

The weather had been OK all week, but a couple of extra degrees would have been nice. We enjoyed our walk, or in the case of the children, bike ride, to the venue for our evening meal. There’s a maze here too which Martha and William enjoyed running around, and, taking a cue from their Dad, jumping over the low fences!

After the best night’s sleep of the week, and a quick breakfast, it was time to pack up, move out and move on. Liesel volunteered to retrieve the car from the car park and when I saw it, decorated with a thick layer of pollen, I finally understood why some of us had been suffering from hay fever all week.

It took several trips to carry all the bags and cases and boxes from the lodge to the cars. And, because we had a long way to drive home later, I thought it would be nice to see where we were going, so I washed the pollen off the cars’ windows.

On our first day here, William and Martha drew on the blackboard in the lodge, and I am glad I can preserve the artwork here:

Oh, and it wasnt a lodge after all, it was a ‘villa’! At least, according to the sticker warning of the deep water nearby.

There was time for one final swim in the morning. The first time William saw this shute, slide, whatever it is, he took a few seconds before deciding not to go on it. Just a few days later, and he was sliding down, very fast, time after time. As was Martha.

I managed to get a video of the family at the end of a Grand Cascade Boat Ride.

After our final meal, this time at the Pancake House, we set off for home. It seemed to be a long drive, with lots of traffic and loads of hold-ups. But we still made it back to Cheadle in time for Martha and William to attend their cricket club. Yes, they’re learning the skills of the gentlemen’s game. I was glad to see they don’t use a real cricket ball though: I’m still wary of those things from my own school days.

When Martha wasn’t required to bowl or wield a bat, she entertained us by doing handstands out in the field.

After dropping the bikes and other paraphernalia off at Jenny’s house, Liesel and I went home. Hot, tired, and very happy. We’d had a lovely, fun time with the family.

A bonus was that during the two-hour drive, Liesel and I listened to Wythenshawe Radio, and there was a fascinating show about Parks. Mick the Knife presented it and you can catch it here.

Steel Rigg to Gilsland to Irthington to Carlisle to Bowness on Solway

After leaving the Twice Brewed Inn, we had to retrace our steps to pick up Hadrian’s Wall Path again. First though, let’s take some photos outside.

And, a little bit later, I took the opportunity to cut Liesel’s chin off again.

We made good progress and enjoyed the views. Looking back on one occasion, Liesel spotted a small animal poking its nose out of the wall. The stoat emerged, ran across the field and disappeared into the distance. How exciting to see a wild animal rather than a farmyard favourite.

We passed Winshields, the halfway point and highest position on Hadrian’s Wall. This wasn’t the time nor place for a big party to celebrate, though. Still: all downhill from here then, right? No, no and thrice no. In fact, very shortly afterwards, at the top of another hill, we came across a trig point.

From this point heading west, the Roman Wall was much narrower than it had been. It seems it was taking too long to complete the massive building project, so the legionnaires found a way to make quicker progress. So fast in fact, that they left behind bags of stones and rocks that can still be found today. Jyoti tried to shift one, but other than make us laugh, her efforts were in vain.

Jyoti’s over the shoulder boulder holder

The Wall itself is a dominant feature, but there are plenty of other features.

I like the fact that at each of these forts and turrets, there’s a descriptive sign showing us what the structure used to look like. Many of the missing stones have been used over hundreds of years to build other walls, houses and barns. Recycling at its best. A good example is shown here. The old Roman stones are being used to protect the more worn paths, especially on the slopes.

Today’s route, though shorter, was also described as strenuous. And indeed it was. I find it easier to climb than to descend, since I don’t have very good depth perception, looking down. Still being tired from yesterday didn’t help. Snack and drink water frequently, little and often, are the very basic but sensible customs to follow. Take your time. I followed all the rules and yet after this particularly hard, steep descent, carefully and slowly making my way down the uneven steps, I realised I’d had enough. I bonked. I hit the wall. I had to have a lie down for a while. In retrospect, a bit embarrassing but at the time, I just wanted to stop. In my stupor, I tried to summon up a rescue helicopter.

To be fair, Liesel and Jyoti aren’t laughing at my predicament, but I am so grateful for their support, feeding and watering me like I’m an old nag destined for the glue factory. Teresa and Tammy at this point were quite far ahead and it made sense for them not to wait for us.

After a while, I was able to continue. Slow and steady. Northumberland National Park needs our help. They want us to let them know of all the reptiles we encountered: vipers, slow worms and lizards. Well, my personal total was zero, so that won’t take too long.

Walltown Crags. The crags would have been a challenge to climb, so I’m glad our path went in the opposite direction. Thirlwall Castle was quite an imposing sight. There was a short hill which I decided to pass on. Liesel and Jyoti went up for a closer look while I had a rest on the stone direction sign, which probably didn’t help those folks hiking in the opposite direction to us.

Soon after this, another wildlife bonanza. We saw bunnies and a family of geese with a cute little gosling. It was about this point when I realised how flexible miles are in this area. 3 miles to go. Walk for half an hour. Then another sign saying 3 miles to go. Later, Google Maps suggests 1.8 miles to go. We met a hiker who was carrying a huge backpack. He said he’d walked 18 miles so far today and had a couple of hours to go. I kept schtum, I didn’t want to tell him how hard I’d found the last several miles. But he was philosophical about the whole thing: “The pain’s constant but the views change”.

1.5 miles to our destination, Gilsland. A couple of bridges, a burn, and we thought we were getting close. Liesel called Teresa to say we were close, about a quarter of a mile away. Teresa said it’s probably nearer three quarters.

Brookside Villa must be the most attractive b&b in the whole world. At least, it was today, to me. Right place, right time.

Liesel and I were given the penthouse suite, which meant walking up more stairs. But when I got up at about 1.30am for my usual nocturnal biological demands, I noticed, through the skylight, a nice dark sky and stars. I was so excited, despite being tired and it being the middle of the night, that I got my phone and took a picture of The Plough or Big Dipper. Not the most exciting astrophotography, I know, but I was happy. Not so happy about knocking a glass of water over in the process, but stuff happens.

The day we walked from Gilsland to Irthington wasn’t marked as strenuous. And after yesterdays’ incident, I was quite prepared to walk more slowly if necessary, and I definitely programmed myself to eat and drink more often.

Over the course of their occupation, the Romans built three bridges over the River Irthing at Willowford, each more sophisticated than the previous one.

What an astonish feat of design and construction. Imagine then our slight disappointment when, to cross the river, we had to walk across this modern one. Built in 1999 and I doubt there’ll be evidence of it in 1700 years’ time.

It was a lovely warm day, and so quite refreshing occasionally to take shelter in the woods for a minute. I felt very lucky not to be suffering from blisters on my feet, but the four lambs had to deal with this issue to a lesser or greater degree. While tending to their wounds, I snacked and imbibed.

I’m sure this fallen log has a few tales to tell, but I chose a different one to perch on. Out in the countryside, a few birds and animals hung around, but the biggest surprise was coming across an Honesty Snack Shed. Snacks and drinks for sale, and an honesty box for the payment.

The signs continue to inform and educate, but ridiculous as it sounds, I did find myself thinking sometimes, ‘another one’? We agreed that it would be nice if they could reconstruct one of these forts fully, since all we see in general are just a few layers of stones giving an idea of the building’s layout.

Piper Sike, Turret 51a, a frontier watchtower. This was a stone tower built by the
Emperor Hadrian’s army around AD 122. It originally stood within the turf section of Hadrians Wall which extended 31 Roman miles (44km) from the river lrthing to Bowness-on-Solway. After a few years the turf was replaced by a stone wall part of which abuts the turret’s west wall.

We made friends with a couple of donkeys named Hamish and Dougal. Naturally I asked ‘You’ll have had your tea?’ (Look up I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue and indeeed Hamish and Dougal’s own shows on Radio 4, some now on YouTube.)

And so it came to pass, no, that’s not right… And so, we came to pass Hare Hill, a precious fragment of Hadrian’s Wall, at the same time as a couple of ladies approached from the opposite direction. Megan and her friend were walking from west to east and this was excitingly their first sighting of the Wall. Which meant, it was to be our last. From now on, the Wall would be hidden from us, even if we were actually walking on top of it.

Another thing you don’t expect to find in the middle of nowhere is a shop selling t-shirts. I didn’t buy one, but this one summarises the whole walk quite nicely, I think.

Someone who deserves at least a knighthood is the man (and I’m sure it was a man, no woman would be so daft) who walked the length of Hadrian’s Wall one day some years ago, planting nettles underneath nearly every gate and stile making passage that much more difficult, especially for those of us with bare legs trying to squeeze through a small gap.

Time for another sit down.

Look/Seek for something Beautiful every day

Walking via Newtown, a hamlet very proud of its Cumbria in Bloom awards between 2008 and 2014, we walked down to The Sally in Irthington. Amy supplied ice for Jyoti’s ankle and generally looked after us.

All week, in fits and starts, Liesel has been crocheting a jellyfish. She attached the final tentacles this evening and gave it to Amy who was delighted.

From our room, we could hear sheep and so sleep came very easily.

After walking on grass and mud for many miles, your feet do notice how hard an asphalt road surface is, especially towards the end of the day.

On the morning of Day 7, we had to backtrack a bit to pick up the trail again. Breakfast was big. I think the cook wasn’t used to vegetarian breakfasts, so over-compensated by giving me two huge tomatoes, three veggie sausages (that were disappointing), two eggs, no hash brown, a bowl of baked beans and (cold) guacamole which didn’t do anything for me. Plus toast. I couldn’t eat it all, but I still felt stuffed.

It was a lot more humid today too, so we were all sweating a bit. Jyoti suggested writing a limerick to mark the occasion. Walking, talking, stalking, looking around and gawking, lots of rhymes, but no single decent poem emerged.

We noticed sheep and cattle were sharing a field in some places. They stayed in their own groups or herds and there was no sign of fighting over a particularly juicy clump of grass.

We thought we’d seen the end of Hadrian’s Wall, but no. We were surprised to see a small section constructed, not from stones, but from old chariot tyres. They’re in pretty good nick for being nearly 2000 years old.

The vallum is the ditch that runs alongside the Wall, another defence against the Picts or Celts from the north.

We stopped at Crosby Church for a break, and the first gravestone I saw was that of an 18-year old girl who’d died in 2005. I want to know her story. But at the same time, I don’t. Very sad, in any case.

A wannabe topiarist had a good go at this shrub, but they need a slightly taller ladder, methinks.

After Crosby, I became aware of a much more diverse chorus of birdsong. I couldn’t identify some of them and my app, Chirp-o-Matic, only suggested three or four candidates. We heard a lot, but didn’t see very many close up. We did see flowers though.

I think it’s Scotch broom, very similar to gorse but without the thorns. And, of course, we’re never too far away from sheep, even when they try to hide behind a bush.

The river Eden would be our guide for a while as we walked by fields with row after row of polythene sheets, underneath which they’re growing, what, potatoes? I didn’t peek.

Later on, in the middle of a field, we saw another Roman fort. No, not really. What is it? Too small to be a grain store. Can’t be defensive, even with those small windows to shoot arrows through.

After a thorough, in-depth investigation, we learn that it’s a folly, and possibly a dovecote built c.1835, for George Head Head, in the grounds of Rickerby House. The tower is Grade II listed. George Head Head, now that’s someone we should know more about, not to mention his parents’ sense of humour.

Rickerby Park on the approaches to Carlisle was pleasant, and a perfect opportunity for a selfie.

We easily found our b&b which is called either Langley or Langleigh, depending on whether you believe the paperwork or the engraved stone gate post.

After dining at the Thai place in Carlisle, Jyoti walked out of her skirt. No video available. Ironic, because just a couple of days ago I’d told the story about Mrs Winter. She was the cleaner in the hall of residence where I lived in my first year at uni. You knew she was coming because of her distinctive tread. Both of her shoes squeaked but at a different pitch. One day, Nick and I happened to be following her along the corridor when her drawers fell down, squ-squeak, squ-squeak, and she just carried on and walked right out of them. There’s no video of that occasion either.

Liesel thinks her triceps are bulging now after using the walking poles for so many days. I’m sure she said Poley Moley when she noticed.

There were so many sheep in so many fields. I tried counting them but I kept falling asleep, which isn’t ideal when you’re trying to walk a long way.

On arrival at Langleigh, we couldn’t get into our rooms. Somehow, someone had double-locked the door and closed it. The only solution was to break the lock on that door. It was Sunday and so locksmiths were hard to come by. I felt bad for Yvette and Norman, but I also felt useless, there was nothing I could do to help.

Langleigh has been a b&b for 50 years, and it still retains some of that ’70s vibe. Candles were lit for breakfast, to illuminate the many, many bird ornaments and pictures that adorn the place.

There was no need to pack here in the morning for the haulage company because we’d be staying at this b&b for a second night. Carlisle isn’t that far from home, yet we’d never been before, so Liesel and I agreed to come back and explore the city properly one day.

The Sun rose on our 8th and final day walking the Hadrian’s Wall Path. It was to be the longest in distance, 15 miles along the river Eden to its confluence with the Solway, fairly flat with some undulation. The most boring section perhaps was a very long, dead straight road that might well have been Roman in origin.

But well before then, I must admit I was amused by the precision of some of the signposts.

I forgot to pack a tape measure, otherwise I might have checked it really was 236 yards.

On the first set of steps, I noticed I had calf muscles for the first time that day. We saw a lot of flowers, wild and cultivated, but sadly, very few insects. We didn’t mind not having to bat away thousands of flies like we did for a couple of days, but a few more butterflies and bees would have been nice.

We walked through what can only be described as the most sheep-shittiest field of the whole trip today. The sheep gave us funny looks as we tip-toed across their lunch. But at least we’re not taking a dump on our own dinner plates.

The directions said ‘turn left’ after the church, We did, and encountered the narrowest path of the whole trip.

Yes, there were nettles here too and somehow I managed to force myself through without being stung.

Another thing I don’t think any of us expected to find this week was a zip wire. But we did, at Beaumont Parish Hall. Did we have a go? Not all of us, but…

And we’re still finding interesting wildlife.

St Michael’s Church at Burgh-by-Sands made us welcome, even if, due to our own incompetence, we couldn’t find the supply of tap water, as advertised!

This twelfth century church was built with stones from the Roman Wall nearby. King Edward I came here to cross the Solway and subdue the rising under Robert the Bruce. He died on the marsh and was brought into the church to lie in state on 7 July 1307. The fortified tower was a refuge during the border raids.

The Eden joined the Solway and we saw Scotland for the first time, another landmark.

After our lunch break, we walked along the flood protection bank. I took a detour into a field where I was able to water the nettles. After which I had to briefly abandon the bank, due to a herd of cows. They were on the bank, in the ditch, walking backwards and forwards along and across the road. They weren’t at all aggressive, just a little intimidating being there in such numbers.

This was the long, dead straight road I mentioned earlier, a perfect opportunity for an entrepreneur to install a travelator.

The big disaster of the day? My shirt sleeve got caught on a hawthorn branch.

Next time we do this walk, we’ll record all the squeaky springs on all the gates and make a symphony. And we should include that bloke’s squeaky shoes too, from Day 4 or 5.

And, we’ll plan to walk both ways if it’s hot and sunny. East to west means the Sun beautifully tans the left arm. Walking back to Newcastle will darken the right arm, restoring that lovely feeling of symmetry.

I commented earlier on the flexible miles in this part of the world. We started the day knowing we had a 15-mile walk. As the day progressed, the signs told of a dimishing distance between Carlisle and Bowness.

It was good to see some seabirds on the beach around Port Carlisle. Some oyster catchers and some little or common ringed plovers, but they were a long way off. I must get a zoom lens for my phone.

Bowness on Solway. Never has the sight of a sign brought so much joy!

And yes, just a short while later, the five of us reached the end of the road.

Welcome to the end of Hadrian’s Wall Path

There were two rubber stamps to add to our passport. Except we didn’t have a passport and hadn’t seen most of the other rubber stamps along the way. I didn’t even have any paper. So, while celebrating on the rocky beach, I picked up a stone as a souvenir, and stamped it.[*]

Cantum meum canto
air seolaidhean-mara na Salmhaigh
leyke a sky-reydin burd
my heart soars high

As you walk down to the beach from the Welcome hut, there’s a handrail that bears a poem. The four lines of the poem along the handrail represent the cultural influences on Bowness on Solway: Roman Latin, Scots Gaelic, Cumbrian dialect and English. In English the poem reads:

I sing my song
of the Solway tides
like a sky-riding bird
my heart soars high.

What a perfect end to the walk. Just a short way to go now to the King’s Arms Inn for a welcome drink. We’d been cheersing each other all week, 10 opportunities to break a glass each time, but it never happened.

The barmaid (sorry if that’s not her official title, it does seem a bit old-fashioned) was kind enough to order a taxi to take us back to our b&b. Strangely, we didn’t have it in us to walk back to Carlisle.

The cab arrived and took us straight to our b&b. In the evening, we dined at The Thin White Duke. We were expecting to be entertained by the music of David Bowie, but disappointingly, that didn’t happen. There were just a couple of allusions to the great man, but the meal was great.

Jyoti managed to walk back without shedding any clothes on this occasion. We did some ironing before going to bed.

One more good night’s sleep before going home.

I’m sure we’re all very proud of our achievement, it was a fascinating, interesting and sometimes challenging hike across the country. If I do anything like this again, I hope it’s in the company of four beautiful, young, funny, supportive American women. Thank you very much, lambs!

A spot of time travel here. This week’s radio show was, inevitably, themed around Walls. You can listen here if you missed it on Wythenshawe Radio. Songs about Walls; the album of the week is Two Hearts by Mary Hopkin and Jessica Lee Morgan but that’s not all! The four lambs each picked a song to play.

[*] Sadly, the ink stamps on the stone faded very quickly, they’re totally illegible. So, if you do this hike, or any other similar one, don’t forget to take some paper so you can collect the stamps.

East Wallhouses to Chollerton to Steel Rigg

What a cliff-hanger at the end of the last post, eh? I left us standing outside the Robin Hood Inn at East Wallhouses. The rhythm of the week was to be breakfast, walk, shower, dinner, sleep, breakfast, walk, shower, dinner, sleep and so on, leaving no time, nor energy, to write much at the end of the day.

One of the joys we missed out on throughout the trip was collecting rubber stamps. An organised person would have brought a little book or passport along to stamp at various points along the route. Not me. Unusually, I didn’t even have any scraps of paper with me. On the other hand, the compulsion to find a stamp at each point wasn’t there.

Hadrian’s Wall Walk was well signposted, we all looked out for the identifying white acorn, as seen on the stamp box above. Our guide book was ‘Hadrian’s Wall Path’ by Henry Stedman. It’s very detailed in terms of where to go and what to look out for, so I won’t repeat all that information here. But, if you’re tired, I suppose you could easily miss one vital turn, and end up in Scotland or Yorkshire. But I’m pleased to say, that didn’t happen to us. On this occasion.

As I mentioned, on this third day we followed a main road, but we walked on grass and well-worn paths rather than the hard surface. It was interesting to find that the road was actually on top of the wall in places. An excavation revealed the wall, and was left open for us visitors to enjoy.

Trying to explain semaphore to Americans was… challenging. David Bailey here wanted them to replicate the Beatles’ Help album cover picture.

When we say ‘Jyoti is in the bricklayer’s arms’, we don’t mean she’s having a quick pint down at the local. No, we met Gavin, a dry-stone wall builder with 28 years’ experience. Jyoti was very excited to be allowed to lay a stone. So, if this wall collapses soon, you know who to blame. Actually, it was interesting to meet a real craftsman.

Some fields are full of sheep and evidence of sheep, but we did find some untainted meadows too.

We arrived at the George Hotel Inn, Chollerford, ready for a lie down and a shower before dinner.

We were warned that Day 4 was the most strenuous stage, as well as being the second longest at 12 miles. So after breakfast, we all took a deep breath and set off in a westerly direction, marvelling at the weather which was ideal.

On the hill leading to the Temple of Mithras, we came across some very pretty flowers.

I wouldn’t have identified them as orchids, but I’m very grateful to the more botanically aware member of our team.

As well as looking down while walking, avoiding obstacles and holes and manure, and looking around at signs of the Wall and its forts and lookout towers, we were admiring the views, to the north and to the south.

We encountered flies of many species, some copulating, but for some reason, the cavern that is my mouth was particularly attractive to them. A sign, yes, that I was breathing through my mouth due to the increased exertion today.

Brocolitia, the Roman Temple of Mithras, was fascinating, and a good pace to have a bit of a rest. Mithras, rather aptly is an anagram of what was quite a presence in the surrounding fields.

The Temple was built in about 200 AD, about 1823 years before Tammy paid a visit.

We encountered many people every day on the walk. Quite a few were, like us, taking 8 days or so to hike the whole route, while some others were obviously day-trippers. Many nations were represented, UK, USA, Canada, Norway, Germany, not to mention Manchester. Everyone says hello, some stop for a quick chat. And some were carrying ridiculously huge, heavy backpacks. Our bags were carried from venue to venue by a local haulage firm: all we had to do was make sure they were ready by 9 o’clock each morning.

Near Sewingshields Crags, we witnessed a lovely display of sheep herding. Most of the flock moved down the hill, but three stubborn sheep remained lying down, enjoying a late lunch of grass. The shepherd, on his 4-wheel-drive vehicle, didn’t notice them, and none of his dogs seemed to be that interested either. The five of us and many others observed from above, and one of the dogs ran right through the crowd. I think he may have been a trainee, misunderstanding the whistled commands.

We stopped at Housesteads Fort. This is the only part of Hadrian’s Wall that Liesel and I had visited before, once with Liesel’s parents. We arrived at the top end of the fort, and the car park was way off in the distance. No wonder Klaus was complaining on that occasion!

It was indeed a challenging hike today, it certainly had its ups and downs. Literally. But I think the hardest part were the dozens of stiles we had to climb over. Stiles, ladderstiles, some wood, some stone, some with very high climbs, not easy with old, tired lallies towards the end of a long day! We prefer gates, and we encountered mostly kissing gates.

More hills and crags and a lough before we reached Sycamore Gap. Here resides, apparently, the most photographed tree near Hadrian’s Wall, mainly because of its starring role in the film Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. It’s a mere 20-minute horse ride from the white cliffs of Dover to this tree, according to the film. It’s not a documentary, then.

And a couple of hours later, what a beautiful, welcome sight. Our Steel Rigg digs for the night.

Inside, a signpost confirmed that we were (just) over halfway in our journey:

Today, we’d climbed the equivalent of 56 floors, according to some marvellous technology owned by Teresa, Tammy, Jyoti and Liesel. My pedometer just counts my steps and, for the first time in a few years, I exceeded 43,000 in one day.

Jumping ahead in time, the radio show this week is a celebration of Jenny’s very special birthday. With some very special guest appearances too. You can listen to the show here. Happy birthday, Jenny!

Newburn to East Wallhouses

It will take a while to adapt to these early starts. No lie-ins for a while. Our breakfast girl was very friendly and bonny and we fueled up well before setting off for Day 2.

Tyne Riverside Country Park was very quiet, apart from the birds and the wind rustling through the trees. Yes, we heard the odd loud vehicle, but that didn’t detract from our enjoyment of the countryside and the fresh air.

A lot of the path was along a disused railway line, so very straight for long periods.

Every now and then, we caught a glimpse of a bright yellow field, rapeseed. Glimpse? The yellow flowers just draw your gaze, they’re so bright.

We encountered our first serious hills today too. Nothing too onerous, I just find a rhythm and stick to it, until I have to stop or change my pace. I think we all have our optimum speeds on different terrain, but on the whole, our group of five stuck together very well.

Heddon-on-the-Wall: I wonder why it was so-called? We followed a sign and snuck behind a hedge and saw the first secton of Roman Wall that we knew to be genuine. This was an exciting moment for us!

One thing they’re not short of in the north of England is sheep.

Lots of lambs, and a surprising number of twins, as far as we could see. Sometimes though, the sheep looked a bit other-worldly.

At the risk of repeating myself, the views were spectacular today.

But never mind the views of the landscape, one thing I noticed was that in just two days, Tammy had gone through five different hairstyles. And while we ate dinner later on, a sixth one, a French plait executed by Jyoti, was on display!

It rained very slightly and ponchos and raincoats and backpack covers were deployed. Thankfully, it didn’t last long and we arrived at our final destination for the day, the Robin Hood Inn at East Wallhouses.

Our tired and achy bodies enjoyed a drink and a meal before taking to bed early.

As the week went on, the walking days became longer, and so I neglected this blog. I will catch up properly when we get home.

I know you’ll want to know about this week’s broadcast Wythenshawe Radio show, which I recorded a long time ago now, or so it seems. The theme was,of course, Walking and you can listen right here.

The same guy that served us last night brought our breakfasts this morning. I don’t think he has a home to go to. But he did very kindly take a group photo for us outside the Robin Hood Inn.

Thanks Tammy for the picture!

Most of the walk that day followed a main road, the B6318, so traffic noise was a potential problem. But in the end, it wasn’t such a big deal. The path stayed close to the road, with a wall or something separating us. It was sometimes muddy, sometimes grassy, and on the whole, much more comfortable to walk on for long stretches than the road itself.

To be continued…

Northenden to Newcastle to Newburn

One day to go before our next Big Adventure and I spent a couple of hours prepping the next radio show. I’ll be away from the Home Studio for a while and I’ll only have a small window of opportunity to finish it before the deadline. Apart from that, packing the right amount of stuff was the order of the day.

We’re going for a long walk so of course, this was the perfect opportunity to buy a new pair of trainers. It’s not the done thing to go on a major hike with shoes not yet fully worn in, but the old ones are probably a bit too worn out. But I found a pair in the shop that felt comfortable straightaway. Result!

Later on, Liesel dropped Jyoti and me off at Quarry Bank Mill where we had a very pleasant, relaxed wander around the gardens, down by the river Bollin.

Yes, the rhododendrons were out in force, and combined with the sunshine, our mood was lifted several notches on the happiness scale.

We had a look around the Mill itself too, and all its machinery. We’re so lucky that neither of us have ever had to work in such a hostile environment. But what amazing technological and engineering accomplishments from 200 years ago. Just to turn a few plants into tea towels.

Engineers make things that ‘work’ and make things ‘work better’. In the past Quarry Bank relied on the engineering brilliance of a few key men. Today, anyone can be an engineer. You just need to be able to think is a certain way. There are six habits that engineers all share:
Engineers work out what problem they want to solve
Engineers look for patterns and what connects things rather than just focusing on the smaller details
Engineers adapt and change, learning from what happens when they try things out
Engineers are creative, whether working on their own or with other people
Engineers imagine what the end result might look like
Engineers tinker. They test, try, improve and experiment!
There is an engineer in all of us.

What an inspiring sign for budding engineers.

In the evening, we all enjoyed a comedy night at Northenden Theatre, just up the road.

Dawn Bailey, Big Lou, Pauline Ayer, Bella Humphries

The MC was ‘Big Lou’ Jones, who I’ve seen before, and the other comedians to look out for in the future were Pauline Ayer, Bella Humphries, Dawn Bailey and Chris Oxenberry. They were all very funny but I only remembered to take pictures of four out of the five. And how nice to see a majority of female performers, yet sad that even now in the 21st century, it’s so unusual, it has to be commented on.

Late to bed, early to rise, makes a man tired. We had to rise early as a taxi was taking us to the coach station in Manchester. There was of course a spate of last-minute packing, and as usual, we were in that limbo between taking too much stuff and leaving something vital behind.

The cab driver was very fast. Well, he slowed down for speed cameras and sometimes stopped for red lights. Liesel felt nauseous and opened the window in case she needed to throw up. But we arrived in one piece, walked from the coach station to the temporary bus stop down the road, via Manchester’s Gay Village, and enjoyed a much more leisurely ride on the National Express to Newcastle.

I slept for a bit, did some puzzles, read my book but didn’t listen to any podcasts, which I’d come prepared to do. Overall, an uneventful coach ride but the highlight was passing by the Angel of the North.

This work of art by Antony Gormley has only been standing there for a quarter of a century but this is the closest we’ve been to it. So far.

In Newcastle, we had a 15-minute walk to our accommodation for the night. The first landmark we saw was St Mary’s Cathedral.

But, carrying heavy bags, we didn’t pay a visit. The second landmark was the iconic Tyne Bridge. Google Maps insisted that we’d arrived at our destination but it was wrong. The Premier Inn was down below. A reminder that Google Maps isn’t very helpful in the third dimension. The other thing that surprised us was the number of gulls all around the bridge. What a racket!

The third landmark was The Sage, Gateshead, over the river. It’s designed to look like three ships approaching in the fog, and I’m sure one day, we’ll go to a concert there.

We couldn’t check in yet, so we left our bags behind the desk, and went for a walk along the river. So many choices of food on offer, and what a great atmosphere.

Jyoti, Liesel and I did visit Newcastle’s other Cathedral, drawn in by the sound of organ music. Later, a boy’s choir started to sing, a wonderful noise and a reminder to me that I’m not really choir material, no matter how polite the other members of Northenden Choir might be to my face

Here are the colourful Maddisons that stand out in scarlet, blue and gold. Medieval St Nicholas’ Church once shone with colour, before the Reformation dictated plain stone and bare walls for churches.

Wealthy coal merchant Lionel Maddison paid for this memorial to his parents, Elizabeth and Henry, in the 1630s, Lionel was an alderman, sheriff and mayor, like his father before him. He was involved in Newcastle’s two wealthiest Companies – the Merchant Adventurers and Hostmen.

Our luck was in as we enjoyed a photography exhibition here in the cathedral too. Peter Marlow has taken pictures of all 42 of England’s cathedrals, and these photos were on display here. So of course, I had to take a picture of Guildford Cathedral while visiting Newcastle Cathedral.

I had a nice chat with someone who volunteers at this Cathedral, who has walked Hadrian’s Wall several times, who comes from Aberdeen but now considers themselves total Anglikised (sic).

The three of us crossed the Millennium Bridge, walked along the river and back over the Swing Bridge. This was of course all good training for the start of our long hike the following day.

At the hotel we met our fellow walkers from the USA, Teresa and her sister Tammy. I’d met Teresa before, in Portland, and she hasn’t changed a bit.

A personal recommendation took us to Träkol, by the By The River Brew Co. Thanks, Ross! We had a very nice meal, the four American ladies each choosing lamb, while I enjoyed a nut roast. The whole place is built inside old shipping containers, but you can’t really tell once you’re inside.

Our hotel room looked out over the Tyne Bridge, but here’s an unusual sight.

Yes, it’s a hotel window that you can actually open. Not too wide, mind, otherwise them pesky gulls might fly in.

The routine for the next few days is that we have breakfast, and we have to have our bags ready by 9.00am. Then some haulage fairies will take those bags to our next stop. We can walk with just the bare necessities for the day.

We could have walked to the start point of the Hadrian’s Wall Walk, or Hadrian’s Way, but we chose to take a taxi instead. It was only about three miles, but it seemed much longer in the cab, knowing we’d be walking back again!

The Roman soldier at Segundum Bath House and Fort, at Wallsend, wished us well on our travels and we set off in a mainly westerly direction. The weather was perfect, and we made good time. Actually, in hindsight, I wonder if we set off a bit too fast to start with, we ended up with various aches and pains.

This first day wasn’t too hilly, but it was a hard surface all the way. We were looking our for the iconic bridges far too early, well, maybe that was just me!

On one path, we saw a couple of discarded supermarket trolleys. As Liesel remarked, if this were Manchester, they would have been in the river by now. In any case, one of our party decided to have an easy ride.

Jyoti, Teresa and Tammy (in the trolley)

On this day, we never deviated far from the river Tyne. And the route itself was well signposted. It was Hadrian’s Walk at this point, because there’s not really a lot of the Wall to see. But from the next day, we would see the occasional section of well-preserved Roman wall.

I can’t remember who first noticed it and yelled ‘Bridge ahoy’, but we soon found ourselves back in Newcastle. It was canny to see wor old bridgey friends again. Picking up the lingo.

Last night, we’d been talking about Costco. So imagine our surprise when we actually saw one today. What a shame it was on the other side of a very wide river with no bridge nor ferry in sight! (Or, what a relief!)

We saw some bits of old wall, but weren’t convinced they were older than Victorian. Still, we can dream.

To bring us back to real life and remind us of more recent history, we passed this memorial in Scotswood.

In memory of the 38 men and boys who tragically lost their lives in the Montagu View Pit Disaster on 30th March 1925, when an inrush of water from a burst seam flooded the mine shaft. The pit was finally closed on 13th November 1959

The pitman, pony and tank depict our past heritage. The house represents the present regeneration of our community. The children are our future.

The official unveiling took place on 9th June 2012 by Councillor Hazel Stephenson and children from Scotswood Village Nursery, Scotswood Village Playgroup and Bridgewater School. The children and local community were involved in the design. The sculpture was made by Xceptional Designs.

In Remembrance of “Men of Steel”.

We stopped for a late lunch at Healthworks Lemington Centre. Jyoti fulfilled her dream, finding a scone with clotted cream. I think we all realised we should have stopped sooner for a break. Various muscles ached but the break helped a lot.

Just a quick (-ish) jaunt to our final destination for the day and we nearly had our first disaster.

Jyoti went down to the river and from where I was standing, it looked like she was in the river. Hence the photo. But then she dropped something, and I assumed it had fallen into the water. Big sighs of relief all round when the phone was picked up from solid ground.

I don’t think I’d heard of the Battle of Newburn Ford before, but we came across a memorial to it with a very good description of the events leading up to it. And it all boils down to religion, of course.

And look, the sky is still blue, a nice way to complete our first day. We stayed at The Keelman’s Lodging, Newburn, after 11 miles and in my case, over 32,000 steps. There’s a micro-brewery here that we didn’t take advantage of, on this occasion.

After confirming that none of us fell foul of the rules, we dined well. Unsure of what dessert to have, Jyoti decided on a bowl of custard.

Yes, an Olympic-size pool of custard. And look at that bloke next to her, concentrating hard on his rhubarb crumble.

The night ended too soon, we could have done with a little more sleep, but we met up early for a hearty breakfast before beginning Day 2 of our hike.

Thanks, Mancs and Diolch, Cymru

I missed the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II on account of not being born yet. The Coronation of King Charles III was on TV in the background while I was doing other things, such as writing and looking out of the window and making coffee. I didn’t really go out and buy a hat as previously suggested. But Liesel and Jyoti went out shopping and missed most of the so-called Event of the Year.

King Charles and Queen Camilla on the balcony of Buckingham Palace

Liesel collected her new prescription sunglasses from Didsbury, and while they were in the village, she and Jyoti bought treats for me (and for themselves). So we had scones for breakfast on Sunday morning, with clotted cream and jam and no arguments about which to put on first.

Our walk through Kenworthy Lane Woods on Saturday afternoon was uneventful, no moose nor bear encounters.

No matter how careful you are, you (or is it just me?) always end up with sticky fingers after eating anything where jam is involved.

With our energy levels suitably boosted, we took a bus into Manchester. And yes, of course we saw the back end of a bus disappear up the road as soon as we turned the corner, walking towards the bus stop. Yesterday, when Liesel and Jyoti walked to the village, I said I’d catch up and, for the first time ever, a bus arrived at the bus stop just as I got there, so I boarded it, overtook the ladies, travelled as far as the next stop, disembarked and met them.

Liesel and I enjoyed showing Jyoti the sights of Manchester including the Central Library, although it seemed to be closed. So we mooched around the Art Gallery for a while.

You can just see Jyoti’s reflection to the left of the golden monkey, who sits on top of a large urn made by top artist Grayson Perry, and he wasn’t afraid of incorporating images of his own face throughout the design.

In a few galleries, several objects are on display as if they are in storage, still in crates, and grouped together in unorthodox ways, such as by material, by object type, by size, rather than by country of origin or by artist.

Some works of art make us laugh for the wrong reason. For instance, this pot of kitchen utensils is very similar to one we have at home.

Work of art and Liesel’s version at home

One of the coolest items was a dress make up from 43 kg of dress pins.

I tried to count the pins, but someone interrupted and I lost count at about 13,000 and I wasn’t even up to the waist.

By accident, we ended up at Gooey, a cake and cookie shop that Liesel was aware of and which she’s been lusting after for a long time. We bought doughnuts and after enjoying mine, overflowing with raspberry jam, I vowed never to look at a Krispy Kreme donut again. And yes, my fingers were sticky.

We paid a quick visit to the Cathedral where we witnessed a small band rehearsing, including a harp player. I’ve never been that close to a harp but I resisted the temptation to wander over and have a pluck. I don’t think Liesel would have let me, anyway, never mind the harpist.

We walked towards Castlefield Viaduct, passing a few places of interest, such as what’s left of the old Roman Wall. Rather than sit on this historical artefact, Jyoti chose to sit on the sheep. A premonition, maybe.

It was a first visit to the Viaduct for Liesel and Jyoti, and I hadn’t visited since I went with Pauline and Andrew last Summer. It has matured since then, many of the plants are now in full bloom and some of the beds are even overgrown.

As you leave, you’re surprised to see yourself in a reflective surface. You’re supposed to reflect on what you’ve seen, the flowers, the local communities and groups that have contributed to the project, the plight of the world what with climate change and all that, but all I could think of was, I look a bit distorted in that mirror.

A quick pitstop at the Museum of Science and Industry was followed by the slog back to the bus stop. Our pedometers confirmed that we’d far exceeded our 10,000 steps today, so the sit down on the bus back to Northenden was very welcome. We dined out at Chennai Dosa before making our way home.

I had a few little admin jobs to do on the computer before packing for a few days away. We d drove off and on a long section of road, we watched as several thousand vehicles were returning from their long weekend away, it was a bank holiday, and they may have all gone to Wales to escape the Coronation. Yes, Wales, that’s where we went, Snowdonia to be precise. Liesel had booked a National Trust Cottage just up the road from Craflwyn Hall. Why this area? Many years ago, Liesel and I enjoyed a Bicycle Beano cycling holiday there during the course of which I undoubtedly had a whinge about the hills. Especially the ones that go up.

Bwthyn Mai is a cute little cottage: most of the pictures on the walls are William Morris prints from an old exhibition at The Victoria and Albert Museum, the bedrooms are on the top floor, the bathroom on the middle floor, the living room and kitchen down below. Yes, it was built on a hill, a long, long time ago. The doors and floorboards squeak a symphony as you walk around.

And outside, we can watch the sheep as they upturn furniture, take shelter under the picnic table, rub their bums against the fences and gate posts, we can witness the lambs barging into their mums for a quick feed, and generally gambol like sheep do. Jyoti took many, many pictures of sheep. And I took a couple too.

The only downside to this accommodation, to the wider area as we discovered, is that there is no 4G coverage, and our cottage has no WiFi either. Not a problem, I thought, but as time went on, we all realised how dependent we’d become on having access to the internet. Someone had left me a WhatsApp message but I was unable to acknowledge it for a couple of days. We couldn’t quickly check the weather forecast. When faced with a problem or a question, the first thing we think is, I’ll just Google it. Can’t do that. When reading a book on my Kindle, if I want to look up a new word, I just click on it and it tells me via a dictionary or via Wikipedia. Similarly if I want to remind myself about a certain character, just touch the name and it tells me. Not now I’m out in the sticks. What’s the news? Probably the same old depressing nonsense but we shall remain in blissful ignorance.

From my point of view, the worst thing was the possibility of losing my winning streaks on a couple of puzzles that I do every day. This really is a ridiculous first-world problem I know, but this is how tangled our lives have become with the many tentacles of the internet. And I haven’t even mentioned Twitter, Instagram and email yet. Who’s been communicating with me?

On the other hand, what a great opportunity to get away from the modern e-world for a few days. Except, everywhere we go, we’re checking for a 4G or even a 3G signal, and whether shops, cafés, galleries have WiFi.

I asked Liesel whether she fancied a game of chess on this board in the gardens of Craflwyn Hall but she politely declined, which is fair enough: she doesn’t know how to play.

Liesel and Jyoti set off for a walk and I followed a little later. The path was steep, rocky and damp, it had rained a lot overnight.

After lunch, Liesel drove us to Rhyd Ddu from where there is a trail leading to the summit of Yr Wyddfa which is the new (old original) name for Snowdon. It started off as a well made path, no water running down this one, and yes, of course, walking up a mountain, it’s going to be steep. Liesel and Jyoti climbed a lot further than I did because, annoyingly, I had to stop due to my old shortness-of-breath issue. Maybe I should have trained longer and harder up hills, not the flat plains of Northenden. Maybe I should have persevered on an inclined treadmill at the gym. In any case, I had to stop and sit on a rock for a while, soak up some sunshine and convince my body that it can manage.

It was a beautiful day, though, no complaints there. I walked back to the car park, slowly: it took a ridiculous amount of time before my breathing was back to normal.

Rhyd Ddu is a station on the railway line between Caernarfon and Porthmadog. While pottering about, listening to the birds, I heard the whistle from a train in the distance. I also saw a red dragon on the platform.

Eventually, the train that had been tooting arrived at Rhyd Ddu and I took a few pictures of the engine.

At which point, my phone died. No internet and now, no phone, no camera, no more pictures today, then. So I missed getting photos of the second train as it arrived from the opposite direction. Many people disembarked maybe with the intent of hiking some of the way up to the summit of the mountain. No pictures of them either, some dressed like me, in t-shirt and shorts, some with several layers of waterproofs and a full backpack including a tent.

Liesel, Jyoti and I met up and compared notes, especially regarding tired aching calves. After dinner, we turned the TV on and Jyoti and I watched the first semi-final of the Eurovision Song Conest. The whole event is new to Jyoti and semi-finals are a new experience for me. A good nights sleep should have been a dead cert.

The weather didn’t look so good in the morning. Aches and pains determined that we should therefore have a bit of a rest day. Last night, a sheep had a fight with one of the benches outside. The bench lost, and we found it with its legs in the air. One of the sheep was limping and we wondered whether he was the one who beat up the furniture.

We drove to the nearest town, Beddgelert, where we resisted the temptation to have an ice cream. We did buy postcards and stamps and other cards and pottered about a bit. Outside the church, St Mary’s, we saw a well-preserved gravestone for a William Parry and I wondered whether he was a local hero of some description.

Many scenes for the film Inn of the Sixth Happiness, starring Ingrid Bergman, Curt Jurgens and Burt Kwouk were filmed in the area in 1958. I wonder if this explains the presence of this Chinese dragon which is stylistically very different to Welsh dragons.

Bridge over the river Colwyn in Beddgelert

There was a touch of mizzle in the air and at one point Jyoti commented that she couldn’t understand why I didn’t put a coat on. Well, it wasn’t raining that hard and I didn’t feel cold. I said that, equally, I couldn’t understand how she could keep taking her coat off and putting it back on every time the temperature changes by a degree or two!

We’d been through Betws-y-Coed before, on the occasion of our cycling holiday, so we knew it was a (relatively) big, busy place. Liesel came up with the idea of parking outside the town and walking in. And what a great decision that was because we saw a wonderful heron down by the riverside.

We found a place to eat by the railway station and looked forward to using their WiFi to catch up with some totally unimportant stuff. So imagine the heart-wrenching disappointment when we saw this on the wall.

The food was great though, especially the Victoria sponge. On this beautiful day, we should maybe have done a tour of the the local waterfalls, since they are so well signposted.

Liesel confessed to her love of bridges, so we walked to Sappers Suspension Bridge, but it’s not open to the public at the moment. Further along the road, (and who would have guessed that we’d ever be walking along the A5?) we saw Waterloo Bridge, a small edifice compared with its namesake in London, but so called because it was first built in the same year as the Battle of Waterloo, 1815.

Even though this was supposed to be more of a rest day following the exertions of all the climbing yesterday, we still did a lot of walking.

Deciding where to visit on our final whole day in Wales was hard, so much depends on the weather and of course, we can’t look up a weather forecast because we have no internet. In the end, we drove to Beddgelert Forest where we planned to walk to around a lake. Well, we never did find the lake. The trail was marked but somehow all three of us, I think, missed a vital pointer so we ended up well off course. But it doesn’t matter, we enjoyed the walk, the views, the weather, the fresh air, the birdsong and the fact that there were very few other hikers, cyclists and no horseriders at all. The forest itself is very lush, so many different greens from olive to almost dayglow.

Once we realised we were off course, we decided instead to follow the trail into Beddgelert itself. It was a much more pleasant experience than one of our earlier plans which was to walk from the Forest car park to the village along the road, with no footpath. We lost count of the number of streams and rivulets. It’s a very wet forest but today, we were lucky to be out in the sunshine, and the threatening grey clouds never came too close.

We’ve been wondering which peak was in fact Snowdon, Yr Wyddfa, and today a very helpful sign showed us. What a shame the actual summit was shrouded in cloud!

We had lunch at the Prince Llewelyn public house in Beddgelert, grateful for the opportunity to sit down for a while after quite a long walk. Oh, and they weren’t afraid to let us use their WiFi so I caught up on a few things, nothing of any importance of course.

Before setting off for the car, retracing our steps, we had an ice cream. What a joy to be sitting in warm sunshine eating an ice cream.

I heard a dog barking and a man telling it to be quiet. Round the corner, and we saw a flock of sheep in the road.

The man had two dogs that very skilfully herded the sheep through a gate. I thought it was unusual to hear a sheep dog being so vocal, though.

Finding another cute little bridge, I thought it would be rude not to take a picture of it for Liesel. So here she is, with Jyoti, about to walk across it.

By the time we found our car in the car park, we had walked over 20,000 steps, so probably between 8 and 9 miles. Very good training for what we’ll be doing next week. My body behaved much better than yesterday. I found my rhythm and walked up a very long hill and was hardly out of breath when I got to the top, a totally different sensation to the shortness-of-breath episode I’d had yesterday.

Back at our cottage, we had some coffee then supper and in the evening, Jyoti and I enjoyed the second semi-final of the Eurovision Song Contest. I now realise what I’ve been missing for several years!

A good night’s sleep was interrupted by a very early rise and an early departure. One aspect of the cottage that I didn’t mention was the beam in the room.

I must have banged my head on it a thousand times over the course of four days, thus keeping Liesel fully entertained. How I can bang my head, utter ‘ouch’, glance down, forget the beam’s there, stand up and bang my head again so many times is a question that will only be answered by the pathologist who dissects my brain post mortem.

The day back at home was quiet, I worked on a radio show, processed the week’s accumulated mail (one item) and in the evening, we met up with the family for dinner at a pub called The Pointing Dog. Martha was but a small baby when she last met Jyoti but what a fab reunion.

As mentioned a couple of times, this is Eurovision Song Contest week, and the competition is being held in Liverpool, on behalf of Ukraine, last year’s winner, and we’ve had a lot of coverage on TV and radio. So of course, my own show on Wythenshawe Radio has a Eurovision theme, and you can catch up with it here.

Oh and by the way, I didn’t lose my winning streaks on the puzzles that I do every day, just because there was no internet access. It seems that if you don’t or can’t attempt the puzzle one day, that doesn’t count against you. Phew, I am so relieved.

And, as I discovered after we returned home, the Wikipedia entry on the Welsh Red Dragon is a fascinating read. Highly recommended.

I could find no evidence that the William Parry whose gravestone we found was a celebrity in any way. But Parry is a very common name in the Beddgelert area, certainly in the graveyard.

Gozo and home

Having spent the day in and roughly north of Victoria, it was now time to head eastwards. The wind was still blowing so we took a bus to Qala from where we wandered hither and thither, admiring the views.

We did see some wildlife, a few birds, the odd butterfly, but most excitingly, snails.

Many of the restaurants advertise ‘locally produced lamb’, ‘locally produced goat’ and ‘locally produced rabbit’. Along with ‘Argentinian beef’. But on all our walks, we never once saw a sheep, goat or rabbit out in the wild, not even any signs of their presence. We ate our lunch in a place recommended by our b&b host, Xerri il Bukkett. Entertainment was provided by some loud American ladies one of whom clearly knew more about breeding and raising rabbits, for food, not pets, than the local Gozitan population.

Speaking of birds which we were a minute ago, what a surprise to see these chaps out by the road.

We walked and took a bus to the Ġgantija Temples, still looking out for sheep and goats. ‘Ġgantija’ because they were built by a race of giants, according to local legend.

After about 5,500 years, the temples, older than the pyramids in Egypt, aren’t in the best of repair, and some of the stones are missing, having been acquired for re-use in new buildings. This has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1980, but that’s no excuse not to have a coffee shop at the end of the tour, along with the gift shop!

‘The typical habitat on the Ġgantija plateau is the garrigue, a seemingly arid and treeless environment. In reality, this is one of the richest habitats on the Maltese islands with hundreds of flowering plants, including the Giant Fennel, the Wild Thyme, the Mediterranean Heather, the Maltese Spurge and many others.’ I don’t think I’d seen the word ‘garrigue’ before.

The graffiti goes back hundreds of years but we’re now discouraged from such vandalism.

A couple of the walls have been secured by scaffolding until the local experts work out the best way to preserve the temples in the longer term.

The temples need another visit one day, but we were conscious of having to catch a bus. While waiting at the bus stop, we had another wildlife encounter. A cat made friends with us.

The weather hadn’t been as bad as forecast and the following day was even better. So we headed south on this occasion, to Xlendi. The walk, nay, hike, along the coastal path was more challenging than the average stroll around Northenden, that’s for sure, and in a couple of places, we lost the path. Still, no sheep nor goats to worry about.

The cliffs looked challenging to say the least, so I was glad that our hike took us in the opposite direction, along the il-Maxar – ix-Xlendi Heritage Trail. Still hilly and rocky but not vertical.

I saw the Usain Bolt of the lizard world dart across the path in front of us. Then Liesel saw one too, after which we saw a few, lone lizards, taking in the Sun on the rocks. Beautiful green lizards.

One thing we weren’t expecting to see was this little bridge. There’s no river, it just meant we didn’t have to climb all the way down the ravine and back up. I imagine this was constructed by the Romans. Or maybe the Brits.

Our destination was Sanap Cliffs, and we just enjoyed the walk in the sunshine, even as we were concerned that we might be off course, having lost the path, and might be tramping across someone’s crops. Still no sign of a goat or sheep.

‘This area, that forms the south-western part of the village of Munxar, is characterised by the high cliffs known as Sanap Cliffs. Sanap, from Maltese senapa, is the mustard plant that was possibly cultivated in the area. This place lies between Tal-Bardan, on the left, and Ras il-Bajjada in Xlendi, to the right. The surrounding fields are a grazing site for sheep and goats.

Sanap Cliffs offer an unparalleled view of the south coast of the island of Gozo. The highest point in the area is specifically known il-Pinnur, literally as the weathercock. This point is perched to the winds just as a weathercock. The island of Comino is to the left, and the north coast of Malta in front.’

So, sheep and goats do graze in the area, maybe they’re inside during the cold(er) Winter months.

As we approached Sanap Caves, our rocky, stoney, muddy path morphed into a paved walkway, very civilised. We even saw other people, but we didn’t join them at the cliff’s edge. Instead, we completed the loop, and walked back to Xlendi, following the road this time.

From a distance, neither of us could discern whether these crops were potatoes or cannabis, or maybe something else, more exotic.

Obviously, it was much faster walking along the road and we soon found ourselves by the waterside in Xlendi. We found Moby Dick Restaurant, enjoyed lunch, and coffee, and watched the Sun going down over the sea. Again, I took far too many photos of the setting Sun, with and without clouds, trying to capture the waves as they broke just behind the wall protecting Moby Dick and the other shorefront premises from the Mediterranean.

Another slog, well, a two-minute walk to the bus stop, where again we were serenaded by the susurration from a million small birds in the trees.

I think it’s fair to say that we enjoyed our few days on Gozo and that, having seen the weather forecast back home, we didn’t really want to go back. But we did, getting up early to catch a bus back to Mġarr for the ferry back to Malta. Having not seen a lot of wildlife (we can’t really count snails, lizards, cats and millions of small birds), you can only imagine the delight when we came across this old thing in the ferry terminal.

I know, I know, it looks like a donkey to us too, but the model really is titled Four Beautiful Women.

Waiting for the ferry to arrive gave plenty of opportunity to get some steps in by wandering around, of course. The boat trip itself was uneventful, as was the bus that took us across Malta, from Cirkewwa Ferry Terminal to the airport.

Malta International Airport. We checked in very quickly. A dozen or so desks, all staffed, which meant there wasn’t a ridiculously long queue. We got through security very quickly too. Lots of time to spare before our flight, so all we could do really was wander around, or sit in the Hard Rock Café for some lunch.

It was quite poignant sitting by Jeff Beck’s shirt, as he only passed away a few days earlier.

The flight was uneventful and finally, we dropped through several thousand feet of clouds to see the lights of Manchester.

Manchester Airport and yes, we were soon brought back to grinding reality. After a 3½-hour flight, it really shouldn’t take 1½ hours to get through immigration. Why was there such a delay? Because, again, only half the passport reading machines were plugged in and working. Mine wasn’t the only head shaking in disbelief.

And then we were driven home by the grumpiest taxi driver in the country. He took the longest possible route home and made a big deal out of finding his card reader because, of course, we didn’t have any British money on us. Welcome home, Mick and Liesel!

In happier news, the latest radio show was about Laughter Therapy, and it includes a chat I had with Sara about laughter and about Blue Monday. Listen here, right now, and have a laugh!