Chasing Dragons

Wool Fest

2008-05-14T18:13:00.010Z

Well it's been a lazy year where my BLOG has been concerned and for that I apologise. I have promised myself that I will write something every week, like a diary and who knows, in years to come I may be put in print ' The secret writings of a boring 21st century ordinary person'!
Dream on Marilyn!!

Well I'm back again with the few notes I've made throughout the year and what a year it's been, 7 weeks in Orkney, two more trips to Wales and an aborted trip to Spurn point. We were lucky with the Orcadian weather, cold but dry and beatifully sunny, that was while England soaked again and you were all sharing the roads and paths with the ducks.

So I'm going to get back into the swing of things and start this posting with the second trip to Wales in April where we visited the Woolfest at Builth Wells and oh I did enjoy it.

A week after the cold, cold abandoned trip to Anglesey we were again on our way to wonderful Wales. It was still cold but not quite so bitter and we were laden down with maps for The Gower Peninsula, the coast around Cardiff and the coast either side of Swansea. This turned out to be very optimistic, you see we were looking for two new coats, quiet, cotton and green. I'd found a shop in Congresbury 7 miles South of Bristol, where the scruffy little oik, Bill Oddie buys his birding gear. So to save postage (yes we never learn) we decided to visit my brother and sister-in-law near Bristol before getting the coats.

First I'd got my Wool Fest at Builth Wells to visit.

It was great, we both enjoyed it and I've always been facinated by the big weaving looms, the kind where you have to use your feet to lift the warps and you can weave all sorts of intricate patterns, herringbone and tweed and such like. Trouble is they are all so big, like a dining room table. Well, we saw one being used that really was a table top loom. It had four levers on top for lifting the warps in various patterns and you used your hands to operate them instead of your feet! I think it would sit very nicely in our living room but Pat wasn't going to be persuaded, anyway not enough room in the van to get it home. Never mind I've got the web address!

The stalls were so varied, some selling, some demonstrating, some just happy to talk about ideas. A lady from Australia had come up with a nice idea and she'd got lots of knitters to knit a small flower or leaf, a circle, a square, embroidered knitting, different shapes and sizes, in fact anything you can think of and then she had joined them all together to make a coat. It was beautiful, very colourful and individual. I couldn't resist it, I bought the book with instructions and ideas for bags. It'll be one hell of a challenge but I look forward to it.

The temptation I was under was great, there were so many different wools, yarns and fleece, silk, you name it and it was there but I was very very good. You see, I've still got a couple of sheep in the spare room to spin, as well as a wardrobe full of yarn. I must not buy any more wool until I've knitted up my stash.

We met up with Janet from The Threshing Barn and I was chuffed to see my knitted bunting was hung along the back of her stall. 24 knitted triangles all a different pattern, it looked good.

Anyway we had a quick chat, she was doing well and enjoying herself and then she put us to work, tidying up the books which were selling like hotcakes. I must admit I'm a sucker for books and I came away with two new ones.

I stood watching a lady spinning, she was using 'long draw' it looks really easy but it's something I've not yet mastered. You need a good fleece that's been carded lightly and then you hold it loosely in one hand and let the wheel tension draw out the fibres. I don't understand why it doesn't break, one day I'll master it.

Pat is also going to make me some giant knitting needles, just look at the size, a jumper can be made in minutes! This particular lady was using the trim off the edges of commercially made cloth. It's about an inch wide and you can make bags, scarves, rugs and anything your imagination turns up. It made everyone smile and most of us just had to have a go, it was fun but not the sort of knitting to do while watching telly.

I just loved this little pegloom, it's made from wood collected from the hedgerow and I'm sure I'll have one some time in the near future. I've seen the giant looms the Navahoe make from branches and I'm sure one would look good in the garden but this is one that I could actually use and produce something.

After our third footsore circuit we decided to call it a day and went to Tal Y Bont forest. It's a lovely area with some good walks along the forest rides. The birdsong was very distant so again no recording. By the law of averages we've got to get close to some birdsong soon, it's nearly May and the height of the Dawn Chorus, now all we've got to do is get up at 3 am!

We'd parked in a forest ride pull in and watched a gang of people in wellingtons and overalls with hard hats and torches stagger up the field along a gulley. Being the nosey type we later checked out the field. The concrete areas and few sleepers still around suggested a rail line with some buildings. A little further down the gulley it seemed to be a canal but the bank had collapsed blocking the waterway. That evening a local family arrived and explained that it was in fact a railway. The line came up from the valley through a tunnel and the bank had been collapsed on purpose to flood the tunnel making it impassible to the casual walker. At least we now understood the wellingtons. It seems that a 'bloody Englishman' (who says the Welsh haven't got a sense of humour) has bought the land and intends to open the railway as a tourist attraction. Let's hope he succeeds.

Our next call was to friends in Pontypool. Bev and Dan Leigh who design and sell Kites. This time we were after a kite for high winds. We've got kites for light winds but recently the winds have been quite strong, I bet from now on there won't be any wind! We had a lovely morning discussing anything and everything. They were impressed with my knitting and weaving and Dan showed me a book they'd bought in a trading post in Canada. The Navajo weaving patterns were stunning.

We left Dan and Bev to the rest of their evening and took a pleasant drive across to The Royal Forest of Dean. It's a lovely area with plenty of trees and birds so next morning we walked along a forest ride but everything had gone mike shy! We did manage to get the song of a Blackbird, I love the Blackbird it's such a beautiful mellow sound and always makes me feel good. The woodland this time of year is that gorgeous yellow green, the leaves so fresh and edible looking. Actually young Beech leaves and Hawthorn leaves can be used in salad.

There were the usual Spring flowers Violets, Celandines, Daisies, Bluebells in bud with the occasional Wood Anemone, just so colourful and pretty to look at in the wild.

We crossed over the River Severn to see Fred and Janet, we always go West to East 'cos it's free, the English charge a Toll! We spent a lovely morning catching up on family news and swapping holiday stories. They're both retired as well and living life to the full, travelling all over and having some fantastic experiences. Staying at home doesn't seem to be in any of our vocabularies.

We left Fred hanging new doors and went to try on our scruffy little oik coats. They are great, cotton so they feel friendly, the right colour and best of all quiet. The shop had a special offer, spend a certain sum and get a free shoulder pouch worth £20. This was too good an offer to resist so we each bought our own coat and got our pouch. They're a bit like a bum bag really but you hang them on a shoulder.

We were ready for anything now and needed somewhere to test the coats. I'd looked at the map and found a Reservoir that looked promising, Blagdon Lake . After 30 miles we'd driven right around the reservoir and not found a place to get close to the water so we turned our back on it in disgust and headed for Salisbury Plain.

We sat in the van that evening when the heavens opened. The noise on the van was deafening, 12mm hail stones. We even got a recording. The ground was white over for at least 20 minutes and later on during a walk up one of the Downs (sounds a bit double dutch that) there were still pockets of ice in the grass. It was exciting to be sat warm, dry and cosy watching the heavens pelt us with balls of ice, I really can't think what we'd done to deserve it.

On our way home we passed this sign. A World War 1 airfield which became a permanent camp with Radar and Radio training facilities before becoming an important airfield again in World War 2. It was finally closed in the 1960's and has been returned to farmland except for a small area which is used for Microlites. At weekends the club offer pleasure flights and we both feel inclined to return. It would be great to see the Avebury Henge and Stonehenge from the air.

I'm now going to get out my Orkney notes and start reliving a fantastic 7 week adventure especially the day it was warm enough to go swimming in the sea!

Aborted Trip

2008-04-24T18:53:00.005Z

It was time to get on the move so we packed the van and headed for Millers Dale, Derbyshire. A nice walk along the River and plenty of sounds for Pat to try out his new recorder. He's been looking for a new recording machine for about 6 weeks, that will record Birdsong, coastal sounds, speech, just about anything in the natural world really and finally found the right item in Middlesex. This was one time where we definitely were not going to save post and packing!

After more searching he located one in Nottingham and we called to collect it, we sat in the lobby on red leatherette couches, were given a cup of tea and generally looked after extremely well. The trouble was, it didn't work so next day we were back, another cup of tea and the engineer kept the recorder and our Microphones to check the whole system out. A third trip on Monday, no tea this time but welcomed liked one of the family. Disappointingly he couldn't find anything wrong so we had a refund. It was a pleasure to deal with such a friendly company where the customer is important even though we'd not bought anything.

After a few days searching the net, Pat found the answer to the problem, it was our microphone and without getting too technical it needed more than phantom power, No I don't understand it either.

So a fourth trip to Nottingham, by this time the receptionist was getting suspicious
and shouted through the locked door that she wasn't going to let us in, you see it was in an old area of the city and the door was on an electrical latch, the kind where you have to speak into the intercom. We finally got in and re ordered the recorder. Pat checked it out in the lobby while we waited for the engineer to come and talk to us. That was the mistake because we left without taking the box and leads with us. We were back at Hucknall before we realised and had to do a U turn to get straight back. This was getting embarrassing and we were hoping that our friendly receptionist had gone for lunch. It was not our lucky day, she sat waving her arms at us 'go away' she shouted. With a great deal of hilarity she let us in, only to then remonstrate with us about our mobile phone being turned off! With the box safely tucked under his arm we left her grinning like a Cheshire cat, well we're entitled to be daft, we're retired.

Where was I? oh yes Millers Dale, it was too windy for recording and too dull for photography and we weren't in a walking mood so went straight past and onto Anglesey. I seem to think we've done this before!

We camped close to the Newborough Forest and next morning we donned winter coats, windproof trousers, walking shoes, hats, gloves and scarves ready to tackle the footpath we'd seen a few yards down the track. We thought it might stay amongst the trees rather than lead us out onto the exposed beach. One thing for certain was it was less windy and warmer than the beach! It led us straight to a bird watching hide and we must have walked about 300 yards. It had taken us 15 minutes to ready ourselves for this epic trip and in the end looked like to overdressed pumpkins! I insisted on at least looking through my binoculars while we were there and was curious to see two Shovellers milling around in a circle and at intervals putting their heads under the water both at the same time. We think it must be a courting display of some kind but what are they doing when their heads are under the water?

We left the suicidal Shovellers and drove across the island to Cemlyn Bay. Today we had it to ourselves, it was so cold and windy, about 35 mph but we were determined to walk a little way. The bay is backed by a shingle bank about 35 feet high which protects the small fresh water lake from the sea. There is the ever present sign telling you not to walk on the shingle bank but in this case it's to protect nesting birds and as it's the nesting season we were very good and walked along the beach. It was so cold and windy that it was not really a pleasure even though the rocks that we had to scramble over made it interesting. We made our way back to a building that turned out to be from the 16 century with 18 century extensions but I couldn't find any more interesting facts about it. With it's 20 feet high brick seaward wall it looked like an old fort.

The outhouses which were closer to the beach looked derelict but the first floor rooms, reached by way of an outside staircase, had good solid wooden floors and all the muck had been swept to one end. Not sure whether it was for a legitimate cause or other wise!

We didn't stay too long here because the car park apparently had a nasty habit of flooding at high tide and today there was a good on shore wind!!

The Anglesey coastline must be one of the prettiest in the country, it's rugged, rocky with sandy bays. The cliffs aren't the highest in the land but let's face it on 200feet high cliffs all you can see is the sea, here on the 20 to 50 feet high cliffs you can scramble down to the waters edge every 50 feet or so and quite safely walk along the rocks without any fear of being cut off by the tide.

Where rocks give way to farmland it's a gentle change, the turf is cropped short by grazing animals (one of the fields we crossed suggested cows with a bull, thankfully we didn't see him or hers) leaving plenty of opportunity for spring flowers. We found the Spring Sqill, a short spiked plant with small globular, purple flowers covering it's stem, there were violets, daisies and Celandines which make a beautiful contrast with the grey outcrops of rock The rocks in turn are covered with lichen, beautiful bright yellows and rust red with a touch of grey/green all topped off with Stonecrop. This trip the Stonecrop was still in bud giving the whole thing a maroony haze but a few days of warm weather and it will be a dazzling white. Sadly I don't think we're going to see it this time. The Gorse this year is plentiful and in full bloom. The golden yellow is clean and vibrant and on a good day would give the sun a run for it's money!

That night we found a lovely quiet place to park up, it was a dead end road with a only two cars parked. They were fishermen and we saw them fishing from the rocks, hidden from the wind I might add. It was still bitter and we got really cold on our evening walk to the cliff tops. Needless to say it was a short walk. about 10 o'clock, Pat opened the door for a last look around, the fishermen's cars had been replaced by one with a big sign on top that read 'POLICE'. We decided to go out and show them that we weren't dangerous but they had already checked us out. They'd got our names, address and decided we were harmless and wished us a pleasant evening. We slept soundly, well it's not every night you get tucked in by the local constabulary! When we checked next morning we were about 200 yards from the back of the Nuclear Power Station!

Friday was still as windy and cold so we went into Holyhead to try and hide from it and find some knitting needles. I'd brought a handbag pattern that suggested a circular needle but I'd ended up with about 15 small skeins of wool hanging and forming one unholy mess and the nylon kept twirling itself in knots, so a pair of ordinary needles were needed.

The RSPCA shop assistant was really impressed with our Tilly hats and asked if we were twins (same coloured coats), she had a good laugh with us and apologised for the cold weather, apparently it was the coldest it's been all winter oh and she thought we were the same age, I wanted to cry but Pat was delighted.

We parked at the fish docks where the swell in the harbour was enough to upset my stomach and while we were there a huge catamaran, Stenna Line, reversed in! Now this van is 6' 6'' at the wing mirrors and our drive is 7 feet wide and I still manage to zap the drainpipe. The catamaran is about 65 feet wide with a 75 feet harbour entrance and the Captain reversed it in at 3 times the speed I reverse and I couldn't see any wing mirrors to help and I bet he's not got a reversing mirror, his brakes won't be as instant as mine but he's not got any drainpipes to worry about. I still think I'll stick to the van though!

It was still cold, cold, cold with no end in sight and we'd about had enough so after lunch we stowed everything in it's place and headed home back to the warmth of the midlands. No problem, there's a wool fest I'd like to visit in a weeks time, it's at Builth Wells so as the saying goes 'We'll be back'.

Shake down trip

2008-04-07T19:40:00.009Z

Doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself? I didn't realise it was 5 months since my last entry, but since last October we seem to have spent every other day in the beautiful Derbyshire peak district.

We're both getting itchy feet now but find it too easy to watch the weather forecast and decide to wait until it's warmer. The trouble is we could still be sat waiting in June if we're not careful.

So we decided to find a reason to go somewhere. What better reason than to save£7.00 post and packaging on a double skillet cooking utensil. It's supposed to be great for heating pies and roasting small pieces of meat, potatoes, vegetables and lots of other food, all on the gas ring in the van. It sounds too good to be true and we decided that we'd like to see one before parting with our hard earned cash and the advert gives the address as Carleton Rood, Norfolk.

We both like Norfolk, it's got an interesting coastline and lovely skies. The stone and flint buildings are unique and the villages all look warm and friendly.

So we packed enough food and water for 3 days and put Molly (Sat Nav) on the dashboard, programmed with the shortest route (we love surprises) and set off.

It was glorious weather, sunshine, mild and dry. Our first surprise came when she turned us right towards Hucknall, we expected to go along the A17, but she had other ideas. We travelled due East over the River Trent at Gunthorpe and when she turned us left towards Newark on the Fosse we thought we'd got her route. Wrong again, she turned us right towards Screveton and we wound our lazy way through the lanes and villages. It was a good route if you've got plenty of time and like to see the villages which in Spring can be quite pretty with the Daffodils and Primroses on the grassy banks. Where the hedges are Hawthorn it's a lovely fresh green that sets off the yellow of the Primroses and blue of the Aubretia.

We clipped Grantham and followed the A52 towards Boston. It was a great route, the A52 is an interesting road, winding through the countryside but it's easy to keep up a decent speed, and not a lot of traffic. There is no comparison with the A17!

We ended up joining the A17 near Long Sutton and thankfully Gemima (SatNav) routed us through Long Sutton instead of the bypass. I say thankfully because there were road works on the bridge and traffic lights. We were lucky and it only took us 4 light changes to get through! The last part of the journey, once we'd turned off the A17 was pleasant using the lanes of Norfolk but some of them are a bit narrow and needed concentration.

We were heading for Thornham, a small village on the coast. It's protected by a 10 foot high earth sea defence which has a footpath along the top that leads out to the dunes about a mile away. We drove through the village towards the sea, to a small area where you can park. It's important to know your tide times and Moon phases when parking here because at high spring tides the parking area is flooded with only the high spots available for parking. We've got a photograph taken a few years ago with a stranded boat in the middle of the parking area, I just hope it was a storm that beached it and not just a normal high tide.

We knew it was first quarter moon and a neap tide but still parked on the high ground, just in case. It was sunny with cumulus clouds (fluffy white ones) dotted around the sky and we walked out to the dunes along the sea defences. It wasn't long before we decided to drop down off the banking to get out of the cold wind and so disturbed 2 Shelduck that had been dining in the mud.

Where the dunes start the Norfolk Wildlife Trust have built board walks across the top of the dunes, it certainly makes it easier walking and you get good views inland over the marshes. I saw a Barn Owl hunting for his dinner. I never get tired of seeing Owls, they seem to glide along effortlessly and of course are silent in the air, to get a good view through the binoculars is one of life's special moments.

We ended up on the beach but the sea was so far away I decided my first paddle of the year could wait until next time. The whole area was so open and huge, bare expanses of sand and not a soul in sight, big open skies and empty marshland until you start to look closer. We identified Redshanks, a wader with red legs feeding in the mud, we heard Skylarks singing, there were Oyster Catchers amongst the vegetation, Brent Geese flying overhead and a flock of finches which I didn't manage to identify.

We got accosted by a chap who was walking part of the Norfolk coast path to raise money for the servicemen injured in the current conflicts. He was very angry at the way our servicemen are treated by the Government and we could only agree and wish him well in his endeavours after making a donation.

The parking area is not only for cars, there are several jetty's for small boats, some have been deserted and are slowly rotting away but a many are still used. Studying the layout of the solitary posts standing sentinel over the landscape it looks as though it was a busy area for boats in years gone by. It's possible to imagine where the landing stages were but now the channels are silting up and while we were there the water level didn't seem to get high enough for even small boats to navigate to the landing stages.

As in all good marshy areas there is a boat graveyard. Hulls of long dead boats sticking out of the mud, a stern here and a bow there, all being slowly buried for future archaeologists to dig them out to try and piece together our daily lives. I think it would be sensible for the archaeologists to photograph these scenes year on year until they have disappeared altogether and store them with grid reference, that way digging will become a thing of the past and future generations will be able to stand in the streets of the new town that will be built on this marshland and look at the photographs, mind you that will mean that imagination will also be a thing of the past and definitely not as much fun as getting down and digging dirt.

Next day we meandered through the lanes to the small village, Carleton Rood to check out the skillet. We found the village but couldn't find the address given. A phone call produced only an answering machine and we came to the conclusion that it was mail order only and we'd had a wasted trip, it only cost us a tank full of diesel!!

Not to be outdone we moved on to Thetford Forest to spend some time checking out Spring. It's a lovely area but with the main A134 trunk road running through, it's noisy. It's so very difficult to find somewhere to rest a while without the ever present hum of vehicles busily darting from point A to point B.

We spent one more night in van and were pleased that nothing was missing, we'd actually managed to put everything we needed back in it's place. Now we can happily set off on a longer trip. I've just found out that there is a Wool Fest in Builth Wells at the end of April so I'm going to start whispering in Pat's ear, while he's asleep, 'you need to visit Wales - you need to visit Wales' I'm sure it'll work!!

New Tooth

2007-10-13T19:27:00.000Z

We've been a bit boring over the last few weeks because I've been visiting my dentist on a weekly basis! One of my upper canines broke off level with the gum in Austria (nothing to do with the food!) and I've got to have a replacement. It's a bit frightening, you know, once you retire bits start to drop off and you leave a patch of rust if you stand still too long and it's started! one tooth down with several to go. The big problem is I've got to have a false one or else look like an old hag every time I smile, I suppose it's going to do wonders for my cred!

Anyway it's meant that we've been tied to staying local for a few weeks although we did manage a few days in the Yorkshire Dales. We set off one fine morning to go to Whitby and decided to take the long route and look at Thornborough Henges on the way.

Henges were built in theNeolithic (New Stone Age) and consisted of a ditch and earth bank, usually circular or oval and had one or two entrances. This has led to the belief that they were ritual rather than defensive. In the case of Thornborough, which is only a few miles from the A1 near Ripon, there are three henges joined by a wide ritual walkway. The henges are nearly 750 feet in diameter and in their heyday around 3000 BC attracted people from a large area and were possibly the biggest gathering in Britain.

We'd read about these Henges in passing and now we've visited them we can't understand why they seem to be unknown to the general public, including us. They form part of a sacred landscape extending over 20 miles and sadly are being surrounded by quarries. English Heritage have designated the Henges to be the most important site of it's kind between the Orkneys and Stonehenge but there are no standing stones, only massive grassy banks in a field with cows roaming around.

We tried to get an aerial photo but the wind wasn't playing and kept letting go of the kite and gently dropping the camera into the grass, thankfully missing the cow pats!
For anyone interested in the Henges or Beltane meetings (1st May) there are some good sites on the web, I just googled 'Thornborough Henges' and got 13,300 hits.

It was the middle henge we found but it was getting late in the day and we needed a camping place, so we headed West, yes into the Yorkshire Dales, well we'd been to Whitby before and it must be about 15 years since we'd visited the Dales.

We got Mary Anne (Sat Nav) to take us through the Dales from Masham to Lofthouse on the River Nidd. Nidderdale sounded intriguing. Anyway, she who shall be obeyed (Mary Anne in this case) bypassed Masham and we ended up on some very strange, very narrow lanes. I thought we were going to end up at a farmhouse at one point as the road became a dual carriageway, you know the type, 7 feet wide with grass down the middle! I finally had to resort to real map reading when she insisted that we take a road now signposted as a dead end .

The road I chose wound up and down a couple of black arrows (very steep) and after a about a mile and a half we rejoined a road where two whole cars could pass without causing any damage.

Jenny (Sat Nav) decided to take over again at this point and ceased her annoying 'Turn around when possible' mantra.

It was lovely moorland scenery and we passed the end of Leighton Reservoir, unfortunately no parking, and carried on to Lofthouse.

Nidderdale lived up to expectations with only two roads into it. We drove to the end but it was too late in the day for a walk up either Little Whernside, 605 metres or Great Whernside, 703 metres, but I've noted it for another trip!

We found somewhere to stay near a small village called Wath. Wath was on the opposite side of the River Nidd and only the residents were allowed to take their vehicles over the tiny bridge and into the village. The information board showed a circular walk taking in the village, and which climbed steeply to a track halfway up the side of the fell. We decided to walk in the opposite direction therefore turning the steep climb into a steep descent. It was lovely, we followed the river for a short way before climbing gently up the side of the Dale. We were overtaken by a chap and his dog. He lived in Halifax and often came to the area for a walk, he didn't have a map either and was walking blind. He told us that he walked until he was tired and then usually retraced his steps but today was his lucky day, he'd met us and we knew that if we turned right at the farm track we could follow it back down to the village.

We kept up a kind of relay with him, he'd get in front and then rest on a gate and we'd pass him. Then we'd find a toadstool or a flower or some other equally non interesting item and he'd pass us. We walked over a massive stone bridge, the type that the railways built, it was about 60 feet high and contoured a steepsided valley. After much deliberation we decided it couldn't have been a railway but was possibly a construction road for the Gouthwaite Reservoir but I've not managed to find out anything about it.

The track back down to the village was really steep, the sort of steep where your toenails are rammed into the front of your boots causing you to walk sideways, it makes you look a bit like a crab.

In the village we noticed what looked like an old railway track bed and found out that it was the route of the Nidd Valley Light Railway. It was originally a contractors railway linking Pately Bridge with the Angram Reservoir but did carry passengers between Lofthouse and Pately Bridge from 1907 to 1929 when it was closed and demolished. The original Wath station house is now a private residence.

It was a lovely walk, not long but the scenery was beautiful and it was relaxing just to be able to stroll gently and enjoy the peace and quiet.

We moved onto Pately Bridge, an old lead mining village with some quaint old shops. My favourite was the 'oldest sweet shop in England' but I resisted the temptation to go in and buy any.

The walking around here is lovely and this is the start and finish of a The Nidderdale Way, a 53 mile circular route that takes in both sides of the valley. It would be a great walk for backpackers, it's a pity we've passed on the tent and sleeping bags to new homes.

I was allowed to choose the next destination and most importantly the route! It's one of the bravest things Pat ever does, giving me the choice or routes, I can spot narrow, winding, steep roads a mile off and I much prefer them to main roads. So I took him to Grassington over a moorland road and then managed to find a back lane to Kettlewell.

It was a lovely day, dry, a bit cloudy but still quite bright and mild. Grassington was charming, too many people and cars but I enjoyed a walk through the village. The cobbled market square would have been really beautiful but for the parked cars. We met an old lady out for a stroll and she and her husband used to holiday here every year so when they retired they moved into the village and she was full of praise for it. She was so enthusiastic that for several hours after I was sure that this was the place to live.

The back road along the valley wasn't very exciting or interesting but the views were lovely and we spent a pleasant hour walking round a little village called Coniston. Like most of the Dales villages, the buildings were of grey limestone and it felt old. The streets were narrow and at one point we had to reverse down the road to let a wagon pass and we were walking!

The flowers were still pretty and colourful and most of the gardens still had that look of the 'old English country garden' about them. When we stop travelling I want to get some old fashioned flowers and herbs in my garden. I'd love to experiment with making herbal teas and dyes for my wool. One of the dyes I am keen to try is Madder. I won't collect it from the wild because the red dye is made from the roots so it's a plant I will have to collect seed and grow for myself annually.

We were having a lovely time and finding the Dales a lot more friendly towards us now we were civilized. The last time we visited here we were on a motorbike and not even the campsites wanted to know us!

Early one morning we had stopped by the side of the River Wharfe for a cuppa and found ourselves at the edge of a nature reserve.

It wasn't huge but boasted a fern called 'Moonwort'. Unfortunately the information board didn't give any clues as to the time of year you were likely to find it. Back at home I found that the spores ripen July to August and it's only 4 inches high so in amongst the grass it would be difficult to find. I'd certainly like to go back at the right time of the year, I love ferns and have found quite a few different varieties over the last 30 years. Back to Moonwort, the alchemists of days gone by believed that it would turn Mercury to Silver, now if I could get hold of Mercury!

The far side of the river had been mined, lead I should imagine and a footpath ran along the valley bottom following the river. We crossed over the river using the stepping stones and wandered over to the workings.

A lot of trees, mainly Hazel, have been planted to try and stop the many rabbits undermining the bank, and the few that had nuts on them were difficult to get at. They weren't ripe either.

We didn't get far that day but must go back, the Spring flowers promise to be varied, old lead mining areas usually have a lovely carpet of rock plants. The footpath also meanders up to the top of the cliff give wonderful views of the valley.

Our last stop was Hawes, at 850 feet the highest Market Town in England, I had always believed Buxton, Derbyshire to be the highest so after a bit of searching I found out that Buxton is 300 metres above sea level metres and is the highest town of it's size! Why oh why do we have to have some imperial measurements and some metric? All I can tell you is that Buxton wins because it's over 900 feet!

In Hawes I had to visit the ropemaker, it still facinates me. I know how to spin wool and understand the principle of Z and S twists (single ply's are Z twist and when you spin two together you use an S twist) this ensures the wool is soft. With ropes though they seem to twist the same way, but when I saw the machines spinning crazily round and I couldn't make out the path of all the threads I gave up and decided to concentrate on my wool. We missed the pottery and the cheese factory but we need something left for another visit!

Austria

2007-09-10T18:59:00.000Z

Gerti and I on our annual pilgramage walk around Semmering.

Since my last posting we have had nearly three weeks holiday visiting relatives in Austria so apologies for the long gap in between postings. We very nearly didn't make it this year, normally it's our suitcases that go missing, we think there's a big black hole in Amsterdam where they hide them for 24 hours. The last two years we have only taken cabin luggage, that really messed up KLM! but we were booked with Lufthansa to change at Frankfurt this year and decided to give them a chance with one suitcase and if they managed OK then we might take two next year. I was confident and the flight from Birmingham was uneventful, as usual full cloud cover so I didn't see the coast of either Britain or Belgium from 35,000 feet.

We decided that we didn't like Frankfurt, it was a grey and cold building, no colour and quite depressing. The signs weren't very clear to us either but we eventually found our gate. No monitor's to keep us informed so we sat down to wait. With 20 minutes to go to our flight Pat decided to ask at the desk when we would be boarding, ha, this was when Frankfurt went to the bottom of our European airport list with a minus 3 marking, they had cancelled our flight and not told anyone. Great , now what were we to do?. We were booked on a later flight to Vienna but couldn't let Gerti and the others know because we had packed the book with telephone numbers in the suitcase, oh God where was it going to end up? the suitcase that is. As it happened it reached Vienna at the same time as us and still in one piece.

This year our final descent into Wien took us right over the city centre. It was a fantastic sight, St Stephan's Cathedral with it's beautifully coloured roof shone like a beacon and the Donnau Canal and River Donnau snaked their way across the city, great, it was the perfect height for sightseeing a city!

Me, relaxing inVienna.

It was hot in Vienna it had been over 40 degrees C but was now a balmy 36 - imagine we had just left Orkney, about 12 degrees C and now this, we were going to be a bit uncomfortable unless we managed to acclimatise pretty quick. Even the Pigeons were sweating.

We didn't acclimatise and after a delicious birthday dinner for Gerti which Karin cooked that ended with the most mouth watering ice cream dessert ever invented, we were whisked off to the mountain house.

It was still the same, as we got out of the car I could smell the Pine trees and hear the Semmering railway high above, echoing down the valley. It's a famous railway and was the first built through a mountain range, one year I would love to make the journey by train, it's supposed to be very beautiful scenery. If you're at all interested in railways there are a lot of sites on the Internet with it's full history.

This one gives a short history. http://whc.unesco.org/pg.cfm?cid=31&id_site=785

The next 2 weeks were very restful and we loafed around the garden, I played tennis with Klaus and Philip and did manage to hit the ball over the net more times than not and I also made full use of the swimming pool.

I loved to float on my back and just look at the clouds floating by it was a magical time. One evening the air temperature had dropped to about 18 degrees and the pool was still at 26 degrees and I found myself swimming through a light fog lifting from the pool, very unusual. This was also the evening when I found a Dragonfly laying her eggs along the bit of moss growing between the pebbles on the edge of the pool. I had a snakes eye view, my head was level with her. She couldn't see my body so it didn't frighten her (that's about the only time my body won't frighten, when it's out of sight) and I swam to the edge and studied her. She was lovely and Pat brought me a camera (I was under pain of drowning if I dropped it in the pool) but I failed to get a good picture from my vantage point.

Gerti has two dogs now, 'Bailey' a golden Labrador and 'Archie' a black Labrador. Both are getting on in years and they are the only ones who understand my German. I certainly don't have any problem with them because they don't answer back! Archie loves to play football and keeps bringing a tennis ball and putting into my hand and he'll also drop it in front of me and looks up expectantly, it's hard not to play but I had to be careful, after one quite vigorous game he wouldn't lie down and if you stroked his back he whined. Throughout the night when he did manage to lie down he would whine when getting up, I think he'd run and jumped too much and his muscles weren't used to it and they'd seized up, just like me after I'd been on the treadmill for 10 minutes! Anyway he did improve over the next few days so no lasting damage.

The little Terrier is Rocky, a neighbour who often calls to spend the day playing.

Bailey loves to swim in the pond and will lead you there given the opportunity. The trouble is she's over 12 years old now and has to be careful. She paddles around the pond and then suddenly brings her front paw up to splash the water and tries to catch the splash in her mouth, it's very funny to watch her paddle, paddle paddle, splash, snap, splash snap, paddle, paddle etc etc.

The mountains in this area are about 6ooo feet and the house is maybe at 3000. The hills are covered in Pine forest except for the very tops. We've spent some wonderful days in previous years, wandering the mountain paths and when we were in a lazy mood we'd take the chair lift to the top. It always turned my stomach over, they are single chairs and don't stop so you have to get on and off whilst they are moving.

The nearest shop is Semmering village about 1000 feet above us, I remember our first visit when we were still fit and wondered why it knackered us to go and buy a packet of cigarettes, only after consulting the map finding out the height difference did we realise why.

Sadly Semmering is a bit of a ghost town now, you see the new road and tunnel took away a lot of traffic. In winter though the place comes alive because of the skiing. They have a night course lit up and also make their own snow, it's true we've seen the reservoir where they take the water from, soon there will be skiing not only all night but all year as well.

There are some beautiful walks from Semmering, contouring the hills and a short one has become a must every year. The view over the valley is fantastic and you can see two spectacular viaducts on the Semmering railway as it winds it's way through tunnels and the valley like a model. There is also an ant's nest about 3 feet high and 6 feet in diameter about 2 yards from the path!

Second cousin, Marie Therese, took us on a tour of Schonbrunn. A huge and beautiful palace in Vienna, which eventually ended up as a one of the Emperor's residences. It's had a long and eventful life, starting out in Medieval times and being rebuilt over the years as a hunting lodge and summer home. It was eventually named after a Spring found in the grounds 'Schone brunne' (Fair Spring) and building on the palace that stands today started in 1693. For the next hundred years it was altered and added to by the various Emperor's but after the death of Marie Theresa, the widow of Franz I Stephen it had several periods when it was unoccupied. Finally in the early 1800's Franz II/I renovated Schonbrunn and painted it 'Schonbrunn Yellow' as it still is today. The next Emperor, Franz Joseph who was born in 1830 at the palace chose it as his favourite home. Somewhere along the line Napoleon spent some time there but I'm not a fan of his so glossed over the fact. I have now realised that neither of us took a photo of the Palace but there are some pictures and info at :http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sch%C3%B6nbrunn_Palace

A Zoo was built in 1750, which is now open to the public and the oldest one of it's kind in the world. We saw Giraffes and Gorillas but the Leopards were hiding amongst the greenery, the Hippopotamus were in bed but we did see a Panda. It was sat on a rock with it's back to us eating! Strangely enough we had been watching a TV programme the night before about Panda's at Schonbrunn and they have just had a baby, but it was safely hidden away from the public gaze. But my favourite has got to be the Otters, they were beatiful and begging for food and I didn't even have a crust!

We're not really fans of Zoo's, I try to imagine how I would feel if I could only walk about my house and garden and have nothing to do but sit and eat and watch people go by, it must be terribly boring. These animals need stimulation like hunting for food to keep them happy.

The Great Palm House built 1880-82 is a massive glass building with iron girders. It's on two floors and does have fully grown palm trees so you can imagine how huge it is. It's warm and wet and Marie Therese questioned us very closely to make sure we weren't going to faint or have a heart attack before she'd let us go in. It was amazing, there were some fantastic ferns and spiral stairways up to viewing platforms but as usual these were roped off. The walkway passed through a gap in what looked like a rock face but covered in long fronds of plastic and into a cave. It was full of fruit bats all hanging upside down in the gloom.

We had a very interesting day and our 15 year old guide enjoyed speaking English, she was good company.

We seemed to spend a lot of time eating this holiday and I have written down some of Gerti's recipes in the hope that I can recreate them now I'm back home. The only trouble is they taste so good that we've both come home with about 2 kilos more than we went with and it's really going to take some shifting. I liked to watch Gerti throw all the ingredients in a pan which would then turn out to be a lovely tasty sauce to go with either the meat or fish or sometimes just plain noodles. The word plain is a misnomer here because none of what we ate was plain!

The whole family speak beautiful English which means that we can be lazy about learning German. I've been learning for 20 years now but still can't understand when they talk to me, so all our conversations were I'm afraid to say English. Gerti and I spent a lot of our time chatting and she did manage to teach me a few more words.

This is the local town fountain, not a patch on Mansfields display. Pat took the photo from a pole, our latest craze,PAP (Pole Aerial Photography).

Our last night in Vienna was spent with Karin and Christian. They had invited us to a ' farewell meal'. Karin had cooked beef and served it with potatoes (Austrian style) and Spinach, it was delicious. Apparently it was Emporor Franz Joseph's favourite meal. Lisa, their daughter, who is 22 is like a breath of fresh air, she loves animals and has a horse, 2 Guinea Pigs and just recently bought a rescue dog from Slovakia, Jessie, a beautiful Alsatian who has been very well trained. Lisa speaks better English than we do and I'm sure she's like me and been vaccinated with a gramophone needle but I love to chat with her she's a very interesting person.

Philip, their son, is quieter that Lisa, but plays better tennis, speaks perfect English and is a true Gentleman and lovely to talk to.

Brigitte, another cousin had unfortunately had a wisdom tooth out that day so was in agony and didn't stay too long but we had visited her earlier in the week and spent an afternoon with her. Her flat is simply gorgeous and only a 30 minute train ride from the centre of Vienna. It's in the part known as the Vienna Woods, the lungs of the city, so it's very green around the small town. She took us on a short walk through the woods behind her flat. The trail had lamps along it and I could just imagine wandering along on a dark winter's evening, the lamps lit and snow gently falling, but neither Pat nor Brigitte were impressed by my vision.

It was great time and the flight home was good. Frankfurt behaved itself very well and didn't cancel any flights. The weather was clear until we reached the Channel so I did see the River Rhine, it was really wide and meandered across the countryside. The coast of Belgium looked like one great sandbank with a lot of shallow water and then we were flying just on the top of a blanket of cotton wool. It was eerie, the cloud tops were billowing up and we were flying in between them. It was a bit bumpy but nothing to worry about.

The final landing was a bit scary as well. The Pilot missed the runway and had to have another go at it! Apparently he was going too fast and too high! Anyway we landed safely second time around and just to cap it off our suitcase strap had been ripped off at the roots!

A great trip to meet our lovely family.

I really like this last photo, not only does it remind me of home it's proves that it does rain in Austria sometimes.

People

2007-08-18T17:17:00.001Z

We’ve met some wonderful people from all over the world during our stay in Orkney, as well as the locals who are definitely some of the nicest people we’ve met.

Our first encounter was on the boat when I tried a bit of my German out. I think they understood me OK and they were kind and answered in English. We also must have chatted to a local person returning to the island because when we finally called on Kate (camp site commandant) , 2 weeks later, she had known when we arrived (Pat and Mal are here pass it on) and had been keeping tabs on us since, you know spotting the van in supermarket car parks etc. You can’t pull a sicky up here and get away with it!

We still got an invite for tea and biscuits, boy do they know how to serve tea, strong and hot with a plate full of cakes! I also had a quick cookery lesson, you know the sort ‘just throw in what you’ve got’. She’s never seen my fridge! I remember Susan (Sister-in-Law) calling and finding the fridge empty, except for the milk and margarine and she was horrified, so much so that next time she called she brought dinner with her and cooked it at our house, now that’s what I call a welcome visitor. Back to Kate , she gave me a few tips and I copied out a recipe for Hudson Chicken……’stuff chicken pieces with chopped honey roast ham, spring onion, grated white cheese all mixed with cream and egg and dip the whole thing in beaten egg and coat in ruskolene (sounds like an engine oil) and deep fry’, it sounds tasty and we wondered whether it had got it’s origins in the days of the Hudson Bay Company. Stromness was the harbour where ships bound for Hudson Bay called to replenish fresh water supplies, in fact the well used by shipping, including Captain Cook, is on the High Street and of course it has the commemorating plaque above it, oh and it’s lit at night, now don’t get excited it’s a dirty, dingy, full of rubbish, uncared for hole in the ground!

I don’t know how I got to sailing ships from tea and biscuits but that’s what Orkney does to you, here you are in the present and suddenly you’re transported back through the years to any date between 5000 BC and 2007 AD.

On one of our beach walks we met up with a couple from Holland. They were having a wonderful time and had camped in the dunes. They were extolling the virtues of Shetland and told me about the Otter sanctuary and Dolphins in the harbour - oh how I wish I didn’t get seasick, it’s an 8 hour crossing and I find 2 hours more than enough!

Next to get noted in my little red book were two German women cycle camping. They flew into Edinburgh and had cycled up country to John O'Groats, caught the ferry to South Ronaldsay and pedalled up the island and over the Churchill Barriers (more on them later) to Burray, Glimps Holm, Lamb Holm and onto the Mainland. We met up with them at the Broch of Gurness, a fortified tower with dwellings around it. The whole area was surrounded by a ditch and was in use from between 200 and 100 BC. We were taking some aerial photographs and managed to include the two Germans. They were thrilled when we printed a picture for them.

They were looking for somewhere to camp and we told them about Brough of Birsay, about a 15 mile ride but well worth the effort. Acting as good Samaritans we let them have a head start and then guided them in and made sure they had plenty of water for overnight. Imagine our surprise when they pitched their tents smack in the middle of the track used by vehicles to get along the coast, still they were happy and we know they survived because we caught up with them at Skaill Bay the next evening. They were really enjoying the scenery and peacefulness of the place.

Jan- whom we met 4 years ago whilst she was looking for a place to buy in Orkney invited us over for a meal. She’s now settled, happy and has a small nursery (plants) and has forgotten her native Yorkshire, well at least she doesn’t miss it.

She collects wool, with good intentions of making something with it one day and I was able to give her some new ideas for scarves and bags. She really is a fantastic knitter and when we called to see her a week or so later she’d been busy making scarves and hats, really lovely ones.

Since arriving in Orkney she has become the proud owner of a few raw fleeces, and I just had to have a look. The one that fascinated me was a longwool fleece (neither Jan nor I know which longwool breed it is) and it was really mucky but felt quite silky to the touch and I’m now the proud owner of half a carrier bag full. Now she needs a spinning wheel so we had a quick lesson on my wheel and we left her practising with a drop spindle (like the ones prehistoric woman used).

After a bad night we got up at 5 o’clock and started sulking. As the day wore on the weather improved and we ended up in a little car park near Stromness and overlooking Graemsay Sound. Tired after our bad night we decide to have 40 winks. After about 20 we were rudely awakened by a huge lorry dumping 20 ton of gravel outside our back door. Stupified from sleep we started imagining all sorts of horrible headlines ‘tourists buried in gravel’ ‘missing tourists and bumpy surface in carpark not connected, council insist it’s just bad workmanship’ and various other things.

Pat collared two workmen wandering about with their hands in their pockets and it turned out they were waiting for the JCB to arrive so that the lane and the car park could have the potholes filled in. He must have complained (looking for sympathy) about me wanting to travel to the other islands and they certainly commiserated with him and agreed that I should be happy ‘cos I was already on an island! It made Pat’s day, finally someone on his side and then we beat a hasty retreat before the JCB showed up, God knows we didn’t want to meet him on a single track road!

We met up with George again, 2 years older but still carrying his newspaper clippings about with him. He walks the path from Stromness along Graemsay Sound two or three times a day, weather permitting, and really enjoys a chat. Last time we met him he was telling us about the days of sailing ships when a 1000 ships would be in the harbour for the Herring. Now one massive factory ship does the work of the 1000 ships plus the gutting and salting. I remember reading a novel about women travelling with the Herring fleet for the gutting and salting, travelling from Shetland down to Scarborough and it suddenly all seemed so real.

One of the paper clippings was about the only Orcadian King!! He is obviously proud of it and it tells the story of a young Orcadian man joining a ship and ending up in the Hawaiian Islands where he stayed. I can’t remember why but after a while they crowned him King of one of the small islands. Next time I meet George I’ll get another read and make some proper notes.

The best of our Kite Aerial Photos are put onto ‘Flickr’ an internet site for photographers of all standards. Through this site we’ve met some really interesting people and this holiday we added one more to our list. Craig is an Orcadian and also takes photo’s with a kite, actually he uses a camera for the photo's and the kite to lift the camera. Well we just had to meet to compare kites and kit. We spent a great afternoon at Barnhouse, a 5000 year old village near to The Stones of Stenness. Of course we had to have a ‘fly in’ of all the kites and take some photo’s. It’s a big site so to get the whole of the village in can be quite tricky but a few oblique shots covers most of it.

We were also told off by a chap for ‘playing’ on an historical site! He wasn’t impressed with the photographic side of it and eventually went off. This is the first time either of us has had a negative response to KAP.

Anyway we really enjoyed meeting Craig who can help us with some of the Orcadian words and also places to visit, not necessarily on the tourist trail. I shall be picking his brains ready for the next year. I just hope that this Blog entry is all correct - he’s a reporter!

We had another Samaritan day, this time an old lady who approached us at an archaeological dig. Luckily for her the tour had just finished and she walked up to the gate and started babbling on about how she’d thought she was lost and couldn’t remember what time the bus left but she’d made it in time. After a few seconds we decided that she wasn’t where she though or ought to be. We were right, she’d been at the Ring of Brodgar and followed a cut grass path and then turned right on the road instead of left. She couldn’t see very well and when she saw a gaggle of people she’d homed in. She was about a mile away with 10 minutes to go. Our van was parked up the road but Pat managed to get her a lift straight away and we really hope she made her bus, if only for the sake of the chap who took her , well what on earth was he going to do with her if the bus had already left?

Back at Skaill again, we spent a lot of time at Skaill, we couldn’t resist introducing ourselves to an Aberdonian couple in a white van, a Nissan that they had converted themselves. The cooker was attached to the inside of the back door and if it was wet or windy they threw a tarpaulin over the open doors making a tent. They had built in boxes for food and clothes but Pat was fascinated by the bed! It was a board on pulleys that they kept in the roof and lowered onto the cupboards at night. A brilliant space saving device.

I’ve noticed whilst writing this that all the people we met were wild campers and that’s why we all got on so well, we were all of the same mindset, dislike of crowds and noise as well as being mean! We did pass through the campsite at Stromness a couple of times and it was so busy that you’d have heard next door breathing never mind about TV’s and radios, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

think Penny was the bubbliest person we met this holiday. She walked her dogs, Nell and Brodie, along Skaill beach twice a day.

She’d married an Orcadian and when the South and teaching got too much for them they moved back to Orkney and have never regretted the decision for a minute. I asked her if she ever took the beach and view for granted and as expected she answered in the negative. It’s a living picture, always different, always changing colour and content, from entirely empty beach to sunbathers, from empty seas to Dolphins, Whales and Seals, from flat calm water to a raging, boiling couldron.

We got very friendly with Penny and the dogs and joined her on one of her walks. I just had to have a go with these new fangled ball throwers that every dog owner seems to have. They’re great, you can really get the ball a long way but after an hour of use the old arm muscles start to complain and the next day don’t want to work at all!

Again we had a lot in common, and on one of the beach walks we were happily comparing the patterns cut out of the sand by a raging torrent of water belching over the beach, to the Grand Canyon in miniature.

As the water spread over the beach on it’s way to the sea it spread out in a fan pattern cutting gulleys and undercutting the edges, a real mini delta that remodels itself twice a day instead of taking thousands of years.

One evening the clouds were all lit up by the setting sun but it was those opposit the sunset! It was a mind boggling phenomenon to me but obviously happened a lot in the Orkney summer months.

It seemed to me that the whole horizon was red and orange, this was the time when Penny confessed to owning a book on clouds, it so happened that I have the same book, so we agreed to be ‘sad’ together. Actually the book is quite good and one chapter is devoted to a visit to Billings Gate Market where he is trying to find which fish the Mackerel sky is named after, is anyone interested in how he got on?

Many of the people we met were incomers but because of where they had income to, they were all very much the same type of person, friendly, giving, open, honest and loved nature and the peace and quiet. I’ll finish this entry with the words of a retired policeman (incomer) ‘This is the nearest to Utopia you’ll find on this planet’. we fully agree with him.

Beaches

2007-08-07T20:32:00.000Z

Most of the coast around the main island group is cliff, but there are a few lovely beaches, some sandy, some rock. The Sands of Wright bay is beautiful and when the sun shines there is no finer place on earth. It’s a warm, soft, very fine sand and perfect for walking barefoot. Unfortunately this year it has been too cold for paddling and playing footsie with the flatfish.

Scapa has a sandy bay fit for building castles and also has lots of flat, sea washed pebbles that will make lovely buttons for knitted bags. This is where Pat starts worrying about his drills!

Waulkmill bay is gorgeous and you have to climb down a 100 foot cliff stairway to get to it. It’s the one place where I would consider swimming (if it was warm enough). It’s boxed in on both sides by the cliffs and the tide goes out leaving a huge expanse of sand. It’s been so cold and windy this year we didn’t even get a walk down to it.

Evie has a nice beach and in previous years we’ve found the odd Cowrie shell but this year there weren’t any. It’s only a narrow sandy beach because when the tide is out there are patches of seaweed and rocks.

Birsay has a beach and according to the paperwork it is a fantastic place for members of the shell appreciation society. Cowrie’s can be found and also a rare "Poached Egg Shell" that is sometimes washed up from the ocean bed by Atlantic storms. Needless to say we didn’t any find any and this year the Cowrie’s were missing too. It’s a popular spot with tourists because of the causeway over to the Brough and talking to a local fisherman (originally from West Midlands) it seems many of them get caught out by the tide and some have actually called the lifeboat.

Brough in Norse means ’defendable’ and this is certainly one of the most defendable places I’ve seen. The Brough of Birsay is the island in the distance.

Our favourite bay has got to be Skaill. It’s where we park up for the night. It’s on the West coast and has a bit of everything, sand, pebbles, stones, rock pools and Cowrie’s!

Penny (another local, this time from Kent, although she married an Orcadian) walks her dogs twice a day along the beach, we reckon it’s a good mile long and we can see all of it from the van window, well she told us that she nearly always finds a cowrie on every walk and when she gets enough she’s going to make something. Apparently she has a big jar full and still hasn’t got enough, I know what she means. We found 26 over the holiday, 15 on one walk so I’m chuffed and now I’ve got to find a way to drill a little hole in them, Pat’s gone into panic mode again! Seems I’ll have to take him to B&Q when we’re home.

Talking of drilling shells has just reminded me of ‘Fluke’s’(jewellery company) latest necklace and earrings. The necklace is a silver Cowrie shell, absolute gorgeous and definitely a ‘got to have one‘, but they are so expensive, but I’m not prepared to pay the price. I’ll have more fun trying to make jewellery with the real thing. So if anyone knows of a good way to drill holes in shells please let me into the secret.

There are also lots of birds at Skaill, we’ve seen 36 species from the van window and watched Bonksies prowl the skies looking for unattended Eider ducklings, I’m glad to report that we didn’t witness any murders. The bird that caused us the most trouble to identify, was believe it or not the ‘Linnet’. We don’t associate it with the beach terrain, it should be on farmland with other finches, but here it grubs about amongst the seaweed along with the Starlings, Hooded Crows as well as the normal waders found on beaches, Dunlin, Redshank and Ringed Plover. A pair of Red Breasted Merganser spent a few nights resting on the rocks and we enjoyed watching a family of Raven fly by some mornings. They did a low flypast of the van and then turned sharp left to follow the cliffs out along the headland.

Of course we had the usual Gulls, Black Headed and Great and Lesser Black Backed gulls, and then we had the uncommon, Common Gull, not normally found in our area but definitely the most abundant gull here. Gulls can be quite difficult to identify but over the years I’ve managed to get a simple system that enables me to identify our usual gulls in this country, that’s as long as I can see their legs!

Despite checking the skyline frequently we didn’t see any Wales but we got one Seal who came to investigate us, an Atlantic one I think, the one with the Roman nose and freckles.

Another interesting feature of this beach are the ‘sandcastles’! there aren’t any, you see, Orkney has ancient monuments like The Ring of Brodgar’ and standing stones all over the island, that mini stone monuments are built on the beach, mimicking the real thing. We think that either a school trip or a one day monument building workshop took place, to account for the number in the photo.

The sea was very calm for a lot of the time and so quiet that the changes in the tide took place without you noticing it. It sort of crept in stealthily and then dropped slowly away again. It was a matter of sitting and watching a rock until it was either covered or uncovered. A note from my log book ;

''9.30 pm - the wind has dropped, the sea is dead still, the birds are quiet and the bay is empty - as one incomer we met described it 'Orkney is the nearest to Utopia on this planet' tonight I agree with him.''

At times it was eerie, no waves just a gentle lapping along the beach. Then the wind would get up and next day it was alive. The surf was running and a brisk walk along the beach certainly got rid of any cobwebs. We did notice a wonderful spectacle, have you ever watched a wave break along a beach, it breaks along it’s length almost at the same time. On the central part of Skaill it starts to break at one end and then the break runs quickly along it’s length. The noise is reminiscent of a train heading towards you.

During one of the windier periods the surf was running high and we were watching it crash into the 60 feet high cliffs and spray over the top, when a surfer came to chat. He’d spent some time at Thurso, where the surf is some of the best in the world and decided to check out Orkney. We couldn’t understand it, where he was planning to surf, the waves were heading for the cliffs and there were rocks beneath the water. Admittedly there was another surfer already in the water but it looked very dangerous to us. On his way back he showed us the cut in his leg and wetsuit from where he’d connected with underwater rocks, so our cowardly feelings were vindicated, it was dangerous.

I know I've tiltled this beaches but I just can't leave out Yesnaby cliffs. They are fantastic. You drive along a single carriageway road with passing places through the hills. After about 2 miles you arrive at a desolate spot 200 feet above the waves. The remains of a WW2 building are still here with the concrete foundations of others providing some car parking. Thankfully the wind is almost always blowing from the atlantic onshore and as you carefully walk around the cliff top the devastation is all too obvious. The turf has been ripped from the rocks and thrown back, the place is littered with pieces of rock broken up by wind and wave in the winter storms and we can only imagine the ferocity of the weather that can cause such mutilation of the cliff top. The day we visited it was quite calm and we enjoyed a good walk along the cliff top and even dared to walk towards the edge. It's a bit scary because the cliffs slope down towards the sea and it would be only too easy to start sliding and end up as one of the lifeboat casualties. Very gently we worked our way along to a cliff arch and managed to get a good view through it at close quarters.

From this grand viewpoint you can see The Old Man of Hoy. He is a majestic pinnacle of rock about 300 feet high and stands just off the coast of Hoy. The cliffs of Hoy are some of the highest in the UK and dwarf the fishing boats bobbing around in their shadow. In the 1960's they were the scene of some interesting filming........watch out for the next installment.

Kirkwall

2007-07-27T18:44:00.001Z

The Royal Burgh of Kirkwall to be precise. It’s the county town of Orkney and has one of the most magnificent cathedrals I have ever seen.

It’s crucifix form and built of red and yellow sandstone, layered into an intriguing pattern. Building commenced in 1137 and has continued for the last 800 years. Work is still being done today, mostly refurbishment of the more weathered parts.

It is dedicated to St Magnus who was a peaceful sort of guy and refused to fight, preferring to stand and say prayers whilst the fighting happened around him. Eventually he became Earl of part of Orkney and his cousin Haken was Earl of the other part. Bad feeling arose, I suppose they both wanted all of it, and it ended with Haken insisting his cook kill Magnus. The cook was nervous but Magnus was nice about it and asked him to use the axe on his head and also forgave the cook before dying. Magnus,s bones are now lying behind an inscribed stone in one of the massive church pillars.

The story is related in the Orkneyinga Saga. Every year we get here I intend to read more of the Saga. There is a short film showing in the Saga centre and after watching it for the fourth time I still can’t get my head round it. It’s all Norse names and Earl this and Earl that and I get so confused I can’t make out who’s killing who to get what, where! So I’ve finally admitted defeat.

Anyway back to the cathedral. It is owned by Orkney Island Council (OIC) not The Church. It was King James lll of Scotland who assigned it to the people of Kirkwall in 1488 and since then only one attempt to annexe it has been made. It was the government who tried to claim it on behalf of the Crown, but the parishioners played up merry hell and the council successfully asserted it’s claim and it’s now back where it belongs.

It’s a big beautiful building but once you get inside it’s a bit like the Tardis. The massive columns tower high into the heavens of the nave and the space is enormous. It really is worth visiting. There are also a lot of historical items spanning 800 years. It would take a week to look at them all.

The belfry has only 3 bells which are rung by one person. Three ropes, 2 hands and one foot. It’s called clocking and has Norse links and is also thought to be unique in the UK.

There are also the remains of The Earl’s Palace and The Bishop’s Palace nearby but I really can’t remember which Earl and which Bishop. There are so many of them and it all gets very confusing. Nevertheless they are worth visiting even if only for the views of Kirkwall and the surrounding countryside, from the top of the towers.

On wet days we have been visiting the museum. It’s really great and has been set out as a time line using rooms. So, room one is the Stone Age, all 3 parts, old, middle and new. Then it’s the Picts, the Vikings and so on ending with the 20th century. Again, you need a week of wet weather to see it all, lucky for us we’ve only been getting a couple of wet days a week, so it’s somewhere we keep going back to.

The harbour is busy with ferries to the other islands and the cruise ships. Last week there were two cruise ships in, they have to anchor offshore and boat the passengers across, and the population suddenly rose by 6000! The town centre was closed to traffic and the shopkeepers got ready to do business.
We left and bolted back to our spot at Skaill Bay.

The town centre is tiny with one main road running through it. It’s narrow and paved and has one way traffic. It also has one tree, a very old and poorly Sycamore. The trunk has a hole in one side that a small child fits into and we can’t help wondering if they’re going to fill it with fibre glass like the Major Oak in Sherwood Forest.

Most of the shops are jewellers and craft shops with goods mostly produced in Orkney. By the way Orkney refers to all the islands, the island we stay on is called Mainland. There are a lot of artists here and all are inspired by the landscape, the seascape, the weather, the light and the peace.
It really is beautiful and atmospheric. The light here is excellent, kind of translucent and indescribable but does make you want to take a photo or paint or something. I can understand why artists want to live here. The sky is also big and wide and interesting. There is always something happening, rain or wind blowing interesting cloud formations across and beautiful sunsets (we’ve not managed to get up for the sun rises).

There is no motorway noise, no industrial noise, no pollution and very few people. The population is 20,000 and I think most of them are either on holiday somewhere else or at work. We see very few people on the beaches, mind you it’s pretty cold this year, but even on good days there are very few at the coast.

I’m finding it very difficult to write about because a lot of our time is spent watching the wildlife, the sea, strolling along the beaches looking for Groatie buckies (cowrie shells) and visiting friends so anyone reading this please let me have your thoughts on the content.

Orkney

2007-07-20T21:40:00.000Z

The ferry crossing was superb, flat seas even though we were in the Pentland Firth. We took the shorter, cheaper crossing from Gills Bay. The ferry looks a bit rusty and rotten but I like it’s olde worlde charm and the way it jolts when hitting a wave and the way it bounces around the sea without falling to bits or sinking! The alternative crossing is on the Thurso to Stromness luxury ferry, The Hamnavoe. It really is a lovely ship, ferry seems to be a bit of a misnomer for this one. It’s plush interior and dampened suspension all conspire to make me feel sea sick after about an hour. I liken the two boats to the difference in suspension of an old mini(suspension non existent) and a Rolls Royce.

We watched seals in the harbour at Gills Bay and kept a lookout for sea birds during the crossing. The bully of the bays has to be the Great Skua (Bonksy). It’s a massive bird, brown with white wing flashes and a flesh tearing bill. We saw one chasing a Great Black Back Gull, which is the bully boy of our cliffs in England, and the Gull was darting and twisting in the air to get away, all the time whimpering like a frightened Budgie. I suppose it’s pay back time.

We didn’t see the Old Man of Hoy this crossing because our ferry crosses the Firth to the East of Hoy keeping out of the Atlantic swell. The Old Man is a famous sea stack of Red Sandstone stood on a base of volcanic rock. It’s loved by rock climbers and we have a DVD of the news footage of the first time the top was reached. It makes fascinating viewing, the climb was transmitted live on BBC News and it also shows the vast effort needed to get huge BBC cameras down onto the beach as well as on top of the cliffs. No handheld video cameras in the 1960’s.

The sun was shining and all was well with our world and we could stay on the island for as long as we wanted. We’d had some weather reports from home and felt quite guilty, it seemed that we had deserted a sinking shire (literally) just in time.

Orkney is an archipelago (I’ve always wanted to use that word, another lifetime ambition achieved) of 68 islands. The underlying rock is called Red Sandstone and was laid down, I can’t remember how many millions of years ago, when the whole area was a fresh water lake, given the name Lake Orcadia by geologists. The different silt and mud deposits have all been compressed and you can see the coloured bands in the cliffs around the island.

We spent our first night at Skaill Bay. It’s a beautiful bay with car park and toilet block and all away from any meaningful area of conurbation. We also knew of a pull in away from the car park where we could be totally alone. So we parked about a yard away from the edge of the beach. The top of the beach here is where the most beautiful pebbles of all are found. They have been washed smooth and round and have clear rings, like the contour lines on maps running around them. Then there is a sandy area between high and low tide and both ends of the bay end in cliffs. At our end we have Eider Ducks and their young feeding in the shallows. When the young have their heads under water they look like brown rats swimming around and I always marvel at how they manage to survive the onslaught of waves, head goes down and the wave goes over them and they pop up the other side. Eider ducks are very good parents and often spend their time in groups all looking after all the babies like a creche. We have just watched a Bonksy fly low over the water and all the adult Eiders gathered the babies into a group and surrounded them. I’m pleased to say the Bonksy did not dine on Eider chick tonight.

It was a lovely evening, the sun didn’t finally go down over the horizon until after 10.30 pm, I’d forgotten just how weird it feels to be sitting in full daylight at 10 o’clock in the evening. I’ll get used to it.

Next day was still sunny but there was a cold wind. The tide was right for a trip to Birsay Brough. It can only reached by foot on a causeway at low tide or boat. Brough means ’easily defended’ in Pictish I think! Anyway it’s a small island that slopes upwards and westward into 150 feet high cliffs. Puffins, Cormorants, Gulls and Guillemots all nest on the cliffs and because of the way the sea has carved into the Red Sandstone you can get some fantastic views of the nests.

The earliest settlers on The Brough, in the 6th or 7th century, were Pictish and all that remains are the outlines of their dwellings and a carved stone. The original stone is in the museum but a replica has been put in it’s place. The carvings are excellent when you consider the tools that would have been used and I’ve made drawings of them, if you could call my efforts drawings, and I hope to be able to weave or knit or make a rug using them.

After the Picts the Vikings arrived and built over the Pictish settlement. The archaeologists have unearthed the footings of their houses and also a 12th century church. We managed to use the pole to get some photographs much to the amusement of other tourists.
At the top of the Brough there is a lighthouse which is now fully automated and is only visited occasionally for maintenance, some more pole shots of the glass lens. The pole is great for this type of work because you can place the camera exactly where you want it.

The sea has gouged inlets out of the cliff face which means that you can stand and watch the nesting seabirds across the gap in some cases getting close enough for some nice photo’s.
We were watching the Puffins when this woman suddenly came bounding over to us asking if we’d seen them. She was so excited, it’s been her life long dream to see Puffins and here there were 2 she could see. When we handed her the binoculars she thought she was in heaven. It was lovely to see the pleasure on her face especially when she got a close up view through the bins.

Next day it rained all day so I sat and finished a little black knitted bag which I ‘m not happy with, I’ll have to start another! Monday the cloud was broken at 0 feet and complete at 10 feet! I think we’re having a bit of the English weather now.

As it was so bad we visited Kirkwall, one of the three main areas of habitation on the Mainland. We decide to hand over my fairy liquid bottle of copper coins to the Lifeboat. Whilst still working, friends and colleagues would add there spare coins to my ‘Lifeboat Man Fund’ in the hope that I would get one before I retired. Anyway it wasn’t to be and the Grandchildren finally put the filling touch to the bottle. The chap in the lifeboat office was delighted but when Pat started to explain how I was after a Lifeboat man he started to slowly back away from me - did I imagine the look of fear that came to his eyes?

It was dryer in town, the cloud base must have been about 200 feet so we had a look around the shops. There were two cruise ships in the bay and passengers were being ferried back to the ship. The water is not deep enough for the ships to dock in the harbour. A fleet of buses ferry the cruise passengers around the island on whistle stop tours of the main sights, The Ring of Brodgar, Skara Brae, Stones of Stenness and Maes Howe to name a few. We’re going to visit them all over the next few weeks.

Visiting Friends

2007-07-08T20:26:00.000Z

Dora (satellite navigation) was taking us the shortest route, and we were ready for her this time! On our last visit she took us through a housing estate and down a very narrow road where we had to get out and move the dustbins to get through. It seemed like we were heading for a corn field but at the last moment the track turned right and we rejoined the main road and all to save a yard! It can be quite exciting at times (my words not Pat’s).

This time we ignored her at that junction and carried on down to the traffic lights, boring but easier on the nerves.

We passed a stone circle at Cullerlie and just had to visit. As usual it’s well looked after, grass mown, area fenced off from the cattle and an avenue of Scots Pine leading to it.

Inside the stone circle there are 8 burials and each grave has been outlined in stone. We met 3 old ladies (sounds like the start to a limerick), sisters I think and they enjoyed visiting circles throughout the country. They grew up in Stonehaven and all learnt to swim in the outdoor unheated pool - it’s fascinating what you learn about people - it also brought back memories for me, standing in the queue at the pool and seeing the temperature sometimes as low as 54 degrees F - very refreshing but it made you learn to swim quick!

We swapped notes on circles, they gave us Scottish ones and we told them about our Derbyshire ones and everyone was happy.

We were now running late but arrived as Simon’s with our excuse water tight not that we needed one.

It was a glorious day so Lyn and I plastered on the sun cream and we, Pat, Lyn and I, sat and watched Simon work, how rotten can we be?

Midge, the Burmese cat, has found that he can bite through his line and so escape onto the busy road, so he now has a deluxe wooden pen to race around in, he also has a new fellow Burmese as a lodger. Twenty years ago, Shan (the new lodger) lived with Simon and his family but after a few weeks he disappeared. He had found that the farm up the road was more to his liking. The two brothers who owned the farm did eventually bring Shan back and Simon kept him indoors for a while but as soon as he got outside, Shan was off back to the farm. He had made his choice and that’s where he lived.

Now, 20 years later, the cat turned up in the original village and was recognised as Shan. Simon was contacted and Shan came to live with Midge. Shan was half starved and had lost his fur so he is now being fed regularly and if he gets half a chance he’ll steal Midge’s food, but he’s putting on weight and his fur is growing back. The two brothers had had to sell the farm and it’s not known whether they couldn’t take the cat to their new home or whether the cat didn’t want to go and as he sat on my lap kneading my legs with claws fully extended I wondered where he had been for the last few months to get to the point of starvation. He is now firmly ensconced in the summer house, eating regular meals and living a life of luxury.

I found 3 juggling clubs, not sure what the correct name is but those things jugglers in circus’s throw about with abandon. I couldn’t resist having a go. I find 3 ball juggling fairly easy but wow, these are something different. First of all you have to get them to loop in the air so that you can catch them again and then it’s very difficult to get them to come down near your hands. After a few minutes I could actually re-catch them one at a time. I practised with two and finally got all three in my hands. One, two, three and run as they all fell to earth around me like rocks pouring out of volcano. I needed a large lawn to practice on and quickly moved away from the cars! I think over the weekend I only ever managed to re-catch two before running!

Saturday was dull and overcast and we were all visiting the local Steam Rally at Fraser Castle in the afternoon. We met Lyn’s Mum and Dad and all had a smashing afternoon despite the rain. It was so bad that Pat actually bought an umbrella!!

The first thing I saw was an old threshing machine running from a traction engine using the massive canvas belts looped around the flywheel. One person was stood on top of a trailer load of sheaves, throwing them over to the threshing machine using an old pitchfork and another feeding them into the thresher. The corn was collected in paper sacks and the straw piled back into another trailer.

The description of the scene from people who could remember the engines visiting the farms in turn was accurate and fitted my imagination perfectly. Attached to another traction engine was a belt, driving a circular saw. Small tree trunks were being handfed to the saw and my first thoughts were of the safety rules of today. It was quite shocking to see a real hand moving ever closer to the jagged teeth that could take the whole arm. Then I noticed that his other hand was pressing down on a lever to engage the belt drive. It made it a smidgeon safer because once the belt is disengaged the saw stops, but the damage that could still happen is horrifying to think about.

Simon was getting some fantastic photo’s from a 44 feet long pole, kite flying was out of the question, and yes, I can see it coming, we’re going to have to get a pole.

There were 4 rows of lovingly restored and polished engines from all over the country, and standing beside the 7 feet high wheel makes me feel tiny. They really are magnificent beasts and when in full steam remind me of friendly, fire breathing dragons.

As we walked along the field the vintage tractors were taking their final bow and circuiting the arena to exit. As they neared the camera peering down from space some smiled, some looked away and others curiously looked around for the perpetrator.

We sheltered in the tea tent with a welcome cup of tea and suddenly there was such an assault on the ears I though war had broken out. It was the local Pipe band next door, the beer tent (it was too wet outside) and it was the drums that woke me up. We had to stand about 50 yards away in the rain to stop our ears ringing. It was super to be there and hear it and when the rest of our party came out Lyn’s Mum was fair bubbling.

Unfortunately I missed the dog and duck display, yes ducks! It was too wet for sheep. The dogs were herding the ducks around volunteer children, who were asked to stand on one leg so that the ducks could go under. Next rally I go to I shall certainly look for this event.

I had to have a trip down memory lane and listen to the fairground organs, not that I can remember them at the fairs but I’ve always liked to see them. We joined a lady and her grandson, about 4 years old, at the one still playing and despite the rain they jigged a little dance to the music, it was a smiley moment.

We all retired to Lyn’s Mum and Dad’s for tea, where I was given one of those brain teasers to look at. The answer to the clues were all Scottish lochs, you know the sort of thing, ‘This is a bonny one’ answer ‘Loch Lomond’. Now I’ll be searching the map for all the lochs and of course finding other places to visit.

Next morning it was still raining and the van was in danger of being cut off and oh yes Simon, I knew it, Pat wants a POLE!!!! This called for a trip into Aberdeen and the local Argos, we didn’t get far, as far as the front lawn actually where the back nearside wheel decided to dig into the soft waterlogged ground. A quick phone call brought the cavalry to the rescue to drag us out. That afternoon the boys played with pole and camera and despite the wet took some nice photo’s of the Lodge House.

A super weekend where we played percussion instruments, guitar, baby accordion, piano and Pat managed to get a tune out of a flutina that Simon was renovating. It’s probably as well that there are no close neighbours!

It was a lovely weekend and I put all the blame on you Simon for the new pole snugly stashed in the van. You do realise that now instead of there being no wind it will be too windy for either the kite or the pole but I’m looking forward to trying the pole on Skara Brae. Thanks to both you and Lyn for an absolutely super weekend. After 36 hours it stopped raining, and Monday found us back on the road North.

We spent a night on the sea front at Blondie Bay, it’s a quiet little pull off down a lane running along the foreshore. Just us, the birds and the wind, but at least it was dry again.

The wind got stronger and next day we went to the small village of Portsoy. It’s fascinating because there are no road markings or signposts so you can really feel that you’ve stepped back in time. The harbour no longer has fishing boats in it but it still makes a pretty picture. That weekend was to be the Scottish Traditional Boat show at Portsoy and the harbour had been surrounded with metal railings to prevent either people falling in or perhaps cars driving in!

The nest village was Portknockie and we sat and watched the waves crash over the harbour wall. The strength of the wind was worrying and we couldn’t help but wonder what the crossing to Orkney would be like. Meanwhile the waves continued to attack the harbour wall and the rocks. The spray was flying up to about 30 feet and the harbour walk was literally awash with water. Anyone foolish enough to walk that way would certainly be washed into the harbour itself.I love to see the sea in this state of agitation, and the frothing mass of water at the base of the cliffs swirling around the rocks is hypnotising.

All good things must come to an end and we moved on up the coast to Findochty, another small fishing village, well it used to be. The little harbour was charming and again there were no road markings or unsightly signposts.

It was getting late so we decided to have a quick visit to Findhorn, the home of the community. The Findhorn Community was started in 1962 by Peter and Eileen Caddy and Dorothy MacClean in old caravan. It was built on spirituality and an ecological cooperation with nature. It has grown over the years and is now a foundation, with houses and a college. It embraces all faiths and you can spend a week’s holiday studying there. Ecological living is still the heart of the community and the houses being built are as ecologically friendly as possible using up to date technology.

We found a pleasant spot for the night in the hills near Inverness and next day headed for Dunrobin Castle. I was studying the map and decided to take ‘him’ for an inland diversion. I’d found the ‘Falls of Shin’ which involved travelling the length of the Dornach Firth. The car park was excellent , the shop expensive and the Falls, well, disappointing is a nice word to use. It was actually more a white water canoe or raft river than falls. The path to the falls ended about 30 feet above them so you couldn’t even get a decent photograph.

Despite that the diversion was a pleasant one the road back to the coast was pretty although we‘d missed the Castle by a few miles. Another map reading ‘must see’ was a narrow lane leading to the sea entrance to Loch Fleet. A dead end road past a golf course, through woodland and into the dunes car park. The dunes were covered in Marram grass and wild flowers including the Marsh Orchid, whole hosts of them and a carpet of Heartsease Pansies. I took a load of pictures trying to get one good one.
We walked along the beach, and there were so many different colours in the pebbles it was amazing, pink granite, grey granite, slate grey pebbles, green, white, yellow, terracotta, black and mica embedded pebbles, two of which have found their way into the van.

The pebbles are actually embedded in the mud and being washed out over time so it was probably an old sea bed and I like the idea that it could have been a glacier that ran down to this part of the coast and dumped all the stones it had collected on it’s way and left them here for me to gloat over. Pat reckons I should join a pebble appreciation society.

Next morning I was attacked by a chocolate brown Labrador! It came galloping towards me with an apparent grin on it’s face, so I stood stock still and waited. On it came despite it’s owners frantic ‘come here’. I can never understand why they never put disobedient dogs on leads when other people are about. Of course it completely ignored her and continued it’s hurtle in my direction. I should have stepped to one side as it neared me, like a Matador, but foolishly I stood my ground. It swerved at the last minute but still managed to stamp on my left foot. Labradors are quite heavy and I wasn’t prepared for it jumping up from behind. To be fare to the dumb animal it wasn’t being nasty just over friendly but it caught the back of my thigh with it’s claw and at the time I didn’t think it had done any damage. ‘She’, the owner, apologised and said ‘he’s so naughty and always getting told off for jumping at people’, what did she think the dog was, a university student? Anyway I assured her I wasn’t hurt but later that day Pat noticed that my trousers had been ripped and on investigation I found a medium sized bruise to go with the large one that I’d made earlier! No wearing of shorts for me for a day or two.

We met a chap who had come across the Pentland Firth and he assured us it was like a millpond so we made a final, no change whatever decision and hurtled to Gills Bay to see if the boat was still as rusty!

It was a different boat and a bit less rust so we booked for the 2.30 p.m. sailing. We decided to visit Dunnet Head to kill the 2 hours wait, it’s the most Northerly point of our island. It was spectacular with waves crashing onto the cliff face. The cliffs are about 250 feet high and straight down into the North Atlantic. The lighthouse was built in 1831 and has a range or 23 miles. It was automated in 1989 and is now remotely controlled.

We went to have a look at the old world war 2 buildings still standing and found an old car parked in one of them. Why is it that other people find priceless vintage vehicles stood on blocks and covered in a dust sheet and all we find is a complete rust covered, worthless piece of junk! Well that’s what it looked like to us. The buildings housed a Radar and formed Coast Defence U-boat station number 6. Like those situated on Orkney and the Fair Isle it could track shipping and surface U-boats for a few miles and aircraft for 100 miles.

It looks such a foreboding place, this coast, wild and dangerous that I can never understand the Vikings wanting to settle here. I suppose they had come from a harsher land full of steep sided fjords and the climate might not have been so harsh a thousand years ago, so the Orkney Islands and Scottish mainland must have looked like paradise compared.

By lunchtime we were standing on the pier watching as our transport to the isles gently reversed into dock.

The Great North Run

2007-07-01T09:34:00.000Z

After 4 weeks at home we were really ready to get going again so we set off in a blaze of glory straight down to the filling station! We didn’t get far before having to stop. Another 4 and half hours and we were parking up at Bamburgh in Northumberland. We’ve found a lovely bit of beach on the way to the golf course and as it’s a dead end it can be very quiet especially mid week. We had our first beach walk of the trip and Pat threatened me with all sorts of horrible endings if I so much as thought about pebble collecting or wood or shells or any other item found on the beach at this stage of the holiday, but he didn’t say anything about sea glass!

The sea here is clear turquoise and was rushing into shore with white frothy tops to the waves. It’s a long wide sandy beach and with the waves rolling in it looks like a mini Hawaian beach, perhaps a bit colder and oh, no palm trees either. A certain amount of imagination is needed.

There aren’t too many people about which is a big plus and we clambered over the rocks on our side of the bay. I got my first paddle and I must say it was very invigorating.

We found some nice colourful shells in patches along the beach but I think we might be coming home this way and they’ll still be there, so I managed to walk past without even stooping to pick one up.

Bamburgh Castle is the other end of the bay and it looks magnificent in the coastal setting but the wind refused to blow and kite aerial photography was out of the question. One day we’ll get a perfect day and get the photo we dream about.

At about 7.30 pm we noticed the sea fret sitting just offshore, waiting until our backs were turned and it could sneak in and hide everything from view, we were hoping that the little lighthouse structure 100 yards to the North of us didn’t have a foghorn!

We had a last walk before bed, it stays lighter a lot later up here, and we were treated to our first Dragon moment of the week, 2 Stoats playing in the sand dunes, at least we think they were playing they looked young and energetic. It was one of the best views I’ve had of a Stoat and certainly the longest.

Next morning we woke to torrential rain and were lucky to be parked just on the edge of a flood in the car park, instead of in it. We had a wonderful view of the sea crashing in with white tops to the waves and breaking in a cloud of spray on the rocks below.

The rain eased and we went to Lindisfarne, the causeway was open and I wanted to try and get over to the little islet where St Cuthbert’s cross is.

St Cuthbert was Prior of Lindisfarne in the 7th century and when he was about 40 he decided that his calling was to be a hermit, so he had a trial period on the islet adjoining Lindisfarne before moving to Inner Farne where he lived as a hermit for 10 years.

It was still surrounded by water so a boat would have been needed and when I worked it out we were only just coming out of a neap tide. I think perhaps you could get across on a spring tide so that’s something to leave for another day.

Next stop was Scremerston. The road leaves the village and follows the coastline for about a mile ending in a car park at the Nature Reserve. There are some lovely parking spots along the way and we settled in for the rest of the day.

The wind was quite cool so we wrapped up and walked along the beach. The Lime Kilns are gradually being reclaimed by the sea and the land surrounding them has been mined and now forms the Nature Reserve. The Lime loving flowers were wonderful, the colours vibrant and we managed to identify 26 species. The most prolific was Bloody Cranesbill, in places it was like a carpet and for me it was pleasure to see Vipers Bugloss. I always think it’s a small plant like Red Dead Nettle whereas it stands about 18 inches high, is very hairy and has blue/pink flowers.

The Western Marsh Orchid was a new species for both of us and took a bit of identifying but after some studying of the flowers and stems it couldn’t have been any of the other purple Orchids.

Next morning the sea fret seemed to be set in so we arranged to meet friends near Aberdeen the next day and drove on to a small campsite near Auchenblae just south of Aberdeen.

It’s a glorious site just us and the birds, well kept with flowering hanging baskets around the information shed. The nearest house was shrouded in trees, the only road was just visible one and a half miles away across the fields and the sky had Cumulus Humilis clouds, those lovely fluffy white ones gently wafting along. We got settled in and sat out in the brilliant sunshine reading, spinning and just looking at the view.

We enjoyed 5 ½ hours sunbathing, well I did, Pat went and hid in the shade behind the van at one point because it was so hot. I managed to get the silk I was spinning finished which means I can start on my next project. This trip I intend to spin some fancy yarns of my own design. I borrowed a book on spinning fancy yarns and it has really inspired me to think laterally when considering materials to use

It was June 21st and the shortest night and I wasn’t near a beach to have my fire, so much for my planning. I’m undeterred and will have my fire later in the year.

Next morning it was sunny again so we spent the morning at Stonehaven. It’s got a lovely small harbour to wander around and this time we found a boarded walkway from the harbour along the shingle beach which led to the town centre. It’s brilliant for wheelchairs and pushchairs and must have opened up the sea view for lots more people. Oh by the way it’s a pebble beach again so no prizes for guessing where I walked. I actually managed to smuggle two small pebbles in my pocket.

Someone has made a metal sculpture of a Cormorant with a fish in it's beak, and bolted it to the rocks near the harbour. There was no explanation and we like to think that whoever it was did it for pure fun and to make people smile.

It was time to meet up with friends so we programmed Jennifer (sattelite navigation) and headed for Kemnay.

Felixstowe

2007-06-07T09:35:00.000Z

After a few days at home we were ready to be on the move again and despite the drizzle and dark clouds we set off for the South East. Finally after 3 months of talking about it we were on our way and I would finally get to see Dover Castle… read on and learn the truth.

After a pow wow we agreed that if we were going to take this travelling seriously we had got to learn to survive rain and now was as good a time as any. The first day was wet but we spent it travelling to Thetford Forest. It’s a lovely green part of the country and the lane we chose through the forest, made me think of the driveway to one of those Victorian Mansions. It was lined with beautiful Oak trees, all fully mature and in fantastic condition. The rain had washed all traces of dust and dirt away and the leaves shone against the black of the branches and trunks as though they had been individually polished. The canopy didn’t quite meet over the road leaving a stretch of grey sky above. It probably sounds dull and miserable but the daylight looked as though it had been reflected onto the scene by one of those TV lighting crews and the green against the grey was vibrant.

The whole area is Forestry Commission and the Oak trees form part of the thin curtain of natural trees and bushes hiding the acres of conifers. It’s always worth keeping alert and looking into the forest for Chinese Muntjac deer. A small animal released into the countryside in the early 20th century and which is thriving and even taking short trips into towns, a thoroughly modern deer with expanding shopping areas! this trip we didn’t meet any. Our camp that night was Area 61 - we had a very quiet night despite the, or probably because of, the very heavy rain!

I woke up about 4am and opened a window to listen to the Dawn chorus, and despite the drizzle the birds didn’t let me down. We had a Song Thrush close by repeating every phrase just in case we missed it the first time and Robins, Blackcaps, Yellowhammers along with a few others provided the accompaniment. What finally made me close the window was the Great Tit who came out in competition and took over the extravagansa with his two tone ‘teacher teacher’ call.

By the time a more civilised hour had arrived it was dry and we managed to get a stroll along the forest ride. It’s a favourite area for dog walkers and we met a few over the time we were there. The ride was very wide with lots of wild plants fighting for space with the nettles and brambles. I did notice a spiky plant with small green flowers, and green flowers are unusual, so I just had to identify it. It turned out to be Weld - one of the oldest plants used for dying silk and wool as well as being used for the pigment in paint. The flowers, when prepared produce yellow dye.

It started to rain again so we moved out to the coast, Dunwich. There is nothing here except pebbles and a few houses but I like to get to the beach and try to visualise the town before the sea reclaimed it. The beach is all pebbles and is regularly banked up into a huge sea defence. I find it very difficult to believe that the town once boasted 3000 inhabitants and I can’t find even a piece of sea washed brick on the beach. The rot set in in 1328 when a massive storm blocked the harbour and the town never recovered with the sea encroaching bit by bit each year. Surely there should be something to show for it but all I can find are the pebbles making up the sea defence.

It was here in Dunwich that Pat decided he didn’t like his new glasses so he picked an argument with the pavement and in round one he head butted the tarmac and lost breaking his glasses in the meantime.

Thankfully we had a spare pair in the van and was able to continue our journey but agreed there and then that Dover was still an unmentionable word and would leave the visit until later, like next decade!

The Museum of Dunwich had just closed so we headed for Aldeburgh. We thought we’d ‘done’ Aldeburgh last year but if you keep your eyes open it’s amazing just how much you miss first visit. They’ve painted the town, literally, all freshly whitewashed cottages with some pink and blue ones in the mix. The whole place looked clean and refreshed ready for the onslaught of summer visitors. This time we both noticed a lovely row of cottages and the middle one was called ‘The Old Custom House’. What was intriguing was the steps leading to the front door, look how the bottom of the door is below the top of the bottom window and the top of door is above the bottom of the top window (try saying that when you’ve had a few). We couldn’t work out where the first floor was. It reminded us of the fishermans cottages we had seen in Scotland, where the staircases to the living quarters are on the outside of the building and the ground floor is where the nets and other fishing paraphernalia were kept. But, it didn’t seem to fit this case. I haven’t been able to find anything out about the house so next visit will definitely include the local museum.

I had to have my obligatory walk along the shore, pebbles, pebbles and yet more pebbles and this must be the best place in the country for finding Hag stones (Stones with a natural hole in them). I don’t think I ever went on the beach without finding at least one. Some of them are quite small and I’m going to tumble polish them to see if they will make necklaces.

We arranged to meet Bharat (met him last October) at Felixstowe on Saturday which meant that we’d got all day to photograph Aldeburgh. It was cool and windy but thankfully dry and sunny, almost perfect Kite Aerial Photography weather. We took 125 pictures of the old windmill and got 2 decent ones and then Pat let me loose with it over some boats pulled up onto the shingle. I hate to admit it but I missed them every time and in frustration he took the Kite back and managed to salvage the shoot by getting the whole boat in the picture!

We crept up on a woman who was obviously an artist and initiated a conversation so that we could check out her work. She was painting a scene down the beach which included some sea and shingle and a row of the pastel coloured cottages. It looked a very messy business and it turned out that she was using oil pastels, something I’d not seen before, but looking at the state of her hands I don’t think it would be a good medium for carrying with us, a pencil and pad are much cleaner.

The fishermen had just returned with their catch and were selling fresh fish and crabs from their huts on the beach, not being a great cook it’s something I always miss out on.

We put Bharat’s address into Mary Lou (Sat Nav) and she got terribly confused. Felixstowe is only 5 miles as the crow flies, but nearer 25 by road, you see, the ferry across the Deben estuary is foot passengers only but Mary Lou doesn’t know this and for the first 12 miles she keeps telling us to ‘Turn around when possible’, she has the patience of a saint and never gets cross!

I didn’t realise that Bharat’s house was only 400 yards from the sea front and I just had to have a quick look. It was just the same as the rest of the coastline down here, pebbles, and I couldn’t believe my luck - I had to actually walk on the beach if only for a few feet and I looked down and found a lovely Hag stone. This one’s got to be lucky, I was obviously meant to find it.

We had a lovely lazy day eating, drinking and chatting and generally putting our world to rights and I had my first Indian cooking lesson. Now I’m the proud owner of a tin full of spices and I’m going to increase the number of meals I can cook to 3 - yes I know it’s a lot for me but now I’m retired I’ve got plenty of time.

Bharat has a Vdub (VW) camper van, the 60’s surfers kind which is now a cult vehicle, Pat really, really wants one , a Vdub that is not a surfboard. Anyway, we all ended up back at Bawdsey Quay for the evening and I was quite jealous of a family (also in a Vdub) who dug a pit in the sand and lit a bonfire out of the wind, why didn’t I think of that? It was lovely to see the flames flickering in the dusk and next morning there wasn’t a trace of it.

I had to get talking to them and it turned out that they lit the fire to help keep the two kids warm (no heating in their van and also to cook the supper because the gas was low. I didn’t care, no excuse is needed and I really am going to have my beach fire later this year, probably on a Northumbrian beach. I could almost want a Vdub myself for this kind of image, the sixties hippy sort but I’d want a surf board as well.

As the sun went down that night over the estuary and moored boats, a 3 day old moon slowly sank towards the horizon to sit beside Venus and accompany her on her journey through the underworld. The scene always puts me in mind of a fairy sitting on the bottom of the crescent moon swinging her legs and trying to catch Venus with a fishing rod - fanciful I know but I’m allowed now.

Next morning we parted company with Bharat and decided to explore a few of the villages and towns. Wickham Market sounded nice and old and so it was, a car park in the centre with a few shops around the square. It was more a large village than a town and the only wool shop was closed much to Pat’s relief. The All Saints Church was pretty and had an Octagonal tower and perched on top, a spire with a lead roof. I would have loved to have seen inside but Sunday mornings are not the time to go sightseeing.

We moved on to Tunstall Forest and it was a delightful drive. There were some lovely places to stop and picnic and we found a deserted grassy area next to one of those built up square reservoirs where we could laze away the afternoon. It was sunny, hot and gorgeous and I sat spinning silk while Pat sat contemplating, I never did find out what it was he was contemplating.

We visited Leiston Abbey again next day and this time the thatched roof was finished. They look so fresh and neat when new and I love the detail in the finish on the apex. They always seem to put a pattern in and take great pride in their craft.

We looked carefully at the remaining walls and tried to imagine how magnificent it must have looked. Even now the pattern in the main walls can be seen by the different brick and stonework. The outside walls were also patterned by using rows of the rounded pebbles (found on the beach by the bucketful) in between rows of bricks making a huge canvas of squares in different textures as well as colours.

Moving from Christianity to Aldeburgh I found a Bhudda statue in a charity shop and decided it would look good in the garden peeping out from the bushes. I like the little fat Bhudda’s they always make me feel happy and the one I bought this trip, a more traditional one sitting in the lotus position radiates calmness and peace and will keep me smiling every time I see it.
Later in the evening the sun came out and we got a stroll along the beach. It’s amazing this holiday because every time we’ve put a foot on the beach either myself or Pat has found a Hag stone, I don’t know what I’m going to do with them but I reckon they’ll look good in wall hangings and the smaller ones might polish and make necklaces.

Next day was lovely and we moved Northwards towards Thorpeness, home of the House in the Clouds. A walk on the beach, another Hag stone, some unidentified plants and a wander around the lake in the centre of the village was all so peaceful, until the Swans decided to come and attack me for the bread I was carrying. They were bully boys and thought nothing of waddling right up to you and snatching the bread out of your hands and there were about 35 of them on the lake. The bills have a kind of serrated edge to them and they always try to eat your fingers no matter how big the piece of the bread and if you’re not careful they can draw blood. We were on bought bread and got rid of all the thick crusts (saves on landfill).

I was main map reader and today, just to prove I’m as good as if not better than Betty (Sat Nav) I found a dead end road that just had to be investigated. I turned Pat off the main road too soon and we found ourselves following a reasonable tarmac road that soon became single track only, eventually turning into a very dusty farm track. Just as we were wondering how to turn round a lady walking her dog pulled into the side to let us pass. She burst out laughing at my ’I think I’ve got him lost’ statement but did explain that if we continued to the pink house and turned left we would reach the end of the road - Sizewell Nuclear Power Station. We’ve been before by a different route, but decided to trust her and carried on. We got to the pink house and both burst out laughing, it was just too silly for words, we were in a field! It was all tractor ruts and trails, but she was right and even though it was a bit sandy we did get through. Pat is more careful of my shortcuts now and we returned to the village by the more usual route.

At Sizewell beach, where there is a good car park, refreshments and toilets we flew all the kites (Pat has decreed that when we get home anything we haven’t used is to be taken out) but didn’t get the camera aloft due to light wind conditions.

It was very relaxing and I found a nice grassy spot, laid down and proceeded to entice a kite up to a great height, it’s very therapeutic and you do have to be careful not to nod off! With a legal limit of only 190 feet I didn’t get to the Cirrus cloud band (20,000 feet) where it was obviously quite windy because of the wispy tails dragging behind.

Our last stop of the expedition was to be Thetford Forest where we visited Grimes Graves. It’s a fascinating area of humps and hollows created by Neolithic flint miners. It was first excavated in 1913 and opened to the public in 1931. To make flint instruments like hand axes, arrowheads and such like the flint needs to be of a good quality. Flint found on the surface which has been weathered does not split easily but flint still in situ underground is much easier to work. So the miners dug circular pits approximately 20 feet in diameter, down through the chalk until they hit a layer of flint, they then mined the flint making low narrow passages for a few feet all radiating out from the main pit. When the flint had been exhausted a new pit was started and the spoil was used to fill in the old pit. There are over 200 pits in this area and Adders! but despite walking very quietly around the site we didn’t manage to see any.

We did take a trip down one of the holes (it really can’t be called a mine) and you have wear a miners helmet (but no light) and instead of a lift down the shaft, it’s a steel ladder. Once down there it’s a bit boring to be honest and all you can do is crawl down the passageways to where it’s blocked off with a grill and back out again. I suppose it gives a feel for the cramped conditions they worked in and it makes you wonder how young some of them must have been when you see the size of some of the tunnels. It’s also mind boggling to think that it was all created using bone tools - we need a JCB nowadays to do our gardens.

This was the end of our trip and after one more peaceful night in the forest it was back to our motorway mansion in the midlands to get ready for the trip North and oh boy are we looking forward to that.

Mid Wales

2007-05-13T19:26:00.000Z

Over the last few days we have travelled through some beautiful countryside with breathtaking views. The rivers are very low and gurgle over the rocks, but despite the lack of rain the flowers are in perfect condition and the hedges, trees and grassy fields are a lovely vibrant green. I have never been into the Welsh mountains in Springtime before and it’s so fresh and green and alive with new born lambs, it’s almost magical.

Anyway, we decided to head towards the Elan Valley and took a minor road through the Black Mountains. It went through the Vale Of Ewyas for most of the way and the it was delightful to be able to see the different colours in the road side verges, Stitchwort, Celandine, Vipers Bugloss, Bluebells and of course the lovely yellow primrose.

The valley floor was all pasture with cows, sheep and lambs, which gave way to the steep slopes of the mountains where the soft green changed to that lovely golden bracken colour, dotted with the soft grey of the rock. I always find myself with conflicting wishes, sitting in the valley looking up I want to be climbing up the mountain looking down into the valley but when I’m on top I want to be in the valley sitting by the stream looking up at the magnificence of the crags, some people can never be satisfied! I actually feel very privileged to be able to be in that position especially in one of the world’s most precious places.

It was a lovely drive but we decided to take to the hills in search of a night halt. I managed to navigate Pat into one of the narrower roads and for a mile it was touch and go whether we could squeeze through but eventually we joined a much wider road, at least here there was a grass verge for passing oncoming vehicles and we made good time again.

The road climbed gently through the hills, it was pure moorland up here, hardy grass and plenty of scenery consisting of steep sided hills. It was also very busy and parking was at a premium so we continued ever onwards and upwards. At last having taken another narrow turning, we left the crowds behind and found a scruffy gravel patch that was level, with lovely views. The local sheep came to visit but were a bit shy of strangers and didn’t even partake of the broccoli I offered them!

It was a very quiet night, I think the one and only car passed us about 7.30 pm so we were up bright and early in the low cloud (we do insist in going onto high ground) and headed downhill. By 8 o’clock we were walking around Builth Wells.

Builth Wells is a small town but it has a lot of history and when we found a life size statue of a big black welsh bull we decided that Builth must be Celtic or Welsh for Bull - how wrong can you be? The phrase that comes to mind here is ‘Assume - it makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’. Of course a bit of research and we find that Builth in Welsh is Buallt and this originally referred to an area of land in the ancient Welsh administrative system. This Buallt Hundred or Cantref (olde englishe) was about 174 square miles and the River Wye running through Builth Wells was one of the boundary edges. Buallt broken down into Bu and Allt can be translated from Welsh into English as ‘The Wild Ox of the Wooded Slope’. So after all that, it does have some meaning to the origin of the town.

However, the bronze statue was modelled on a prize winning Bull in 1992 and 2002 at the Royal Welsh Show. Caerynwch Tywysog 6th (an unusual name for a bull!) was owned by a local farmer and the sculptor of the 1.5 tonnes statue was also local. It’s nice to visit these small towns and realise that instead of paying out huge sums to artists from afar the local people are employed for these projects.

The High Street running the length of the town was much the same as other towns regarding shops but at the corner of an alleyway an artist had obviously been at work. We couldn’t find any information on who, why and when so perhaps a frustrated artist lives in the building? It’s a fantastic piece of art and well thought out. The door is solid and presumably leads to an inside room and the Dragon was lovely, laying there as good as gold and fast asleep. This is what’s called finding dragons, my chase is at an end? No, I don’t think so! Now I need to find the rest of her relatives. There are always more around the next corner.

Please have a good look at the artwork, we think it was acrylics and all the stone work has been hand painted on flat cement, the window frame as well as the cat, look at the tree trunk which is a cleverly disguised electrical conduit. The smallest of details has been included right down to the use of an actual iron ring embedded into the wall and if you look closely you will notice that the dragon is attached to it by a chain.

Builth must be a town of pictures because on every other shop doorway or lamp post 'Julie’s' friends had pinned pictures of her at various ages. She had just had a birthday but unfortunately none of the pictures gave her age, but from the latest pictures probably about 18. I bet she was embarrassed the morning after!

We left Builth and 'Julie' with her hangover and headed for the Elan Valley, the journey through the valley was beautiful, narrow lanes with banks covered in the by now familiar white Stitchwort, Bluebells and primroses. The trees were that early Spring green and you can still see through the gossamer like foliage. We followed the road along the Elan Valley to the Claerwen reservoir and ended up parked at the bottom of the dam.

The dam wall is 240 feet high and has tonnes and tonnes of concrete in it which has been faced with masonry and blue brick. Standing beneath it you feel very, very small and insignificant with the frightening thought of how much water would come pouring through if it gave way. I’ve always though dams were built with a massive slope either water side or valley side, like the one at Ladybower in Derbyshire. This one though is almost vertical both sides according to the information board and it’s not got a huge curve on in like the Hoover dam in America (although that one’s a bit bigger) so where it gets it’s strength from I don’t know, but I’m not a stress engineer.

It was a lovely peaceful spot and we spent the rest of the day parked up reading, walking, talking to birders and generally relaxing in the beautiful countryside. We were shown where a Peregrin Falcon was perched, guarding the nest site on a craggy outcrop of rock and also told where to find a Red Kite’s nest that you could look down and see Mum patiently sitting on her eggs. We also got some fantastic views of Dad perched not far away and at times he would glide over our heads. These were the best views of Red Kite’s we have ever had.

From the Dam wall we saw Redstarts and Willow Warblers, Chaffinches were singing their hearts out and generally it was a busy area for wildlife.

We met up with Helen and Colin from Birmingham on the Dam and were sharing views of the wildlife and talking about our likes and dislikes. Helen is waiting for Colin to retire and they are looking forward to taking up bird watching and travelling. Our best advice to them was ‘as soon as you can, it’s a great way of life’.

Next day I was sat spinning wool in the sunshine and we met Harry and Angela. They’ve got a D reg Autosleeper and have started wild camping and are having a lovely time. Angela has fallen in love with the hills of Mid Wales and they have time to visit whenever they like. We enjoyed swapping ideas and stories with each other and also learning of new places to visit.

The weather was still gorgeous, bright sunshine but a cold wind which we ignored. There’s a visitor centre in Elan Village and we stopped for a look around. The history of the three dams is shown and all the facts and figures of how much concrete, how much water, where it goes etc is shown. The one fact that I remember is the water feeds Birmingham and the 73 mile long pipeline is on a gradient that falls just enough to use gravity to get it to the treatment plant at Birmingham. The rest of the figures are just a blur and anyway I can’t always envisage how much a million cubic feet of water is!

It’s a lovely place for a picnic and a walk, again at the bottom of one of the dams, Caban Coch, but it feels safe! We walked down through the woods into the village. The village was built to house the navvies working on the dams and also their families. Shops, schools and churches were all included. The working sites were too far into the hills for the workers to be housed at Rhayader and anyway the town could not have accommodated them all.

There are only a few houses left in the village and we ended up walking back along the river. It’s a typical mountain river bubbling over rocks and sneaking around boulders, slow lazy pools which then run frantically over the pebbly bottom. I would love to be able to follow water on it’s path in these type of rivers. They never seem too deep and dangerous but we all know how looks can be deceiving. I did manage to hop over some boulders to get towards the middle of the river and sit posing for a time, that is until I was called back to land for lunch. It’s a beautiful setting for a picnic, sunlight bouncing off the water with a backdrop of mountains, coloured with the bracken and rock screes.

All good things come to an end and our pot noodles were no exception so we moved on towards another reservoir we’d found on the map. I never tire of travelling over mountains and hills and through green sided valleys, especially this time of year, and Wales has an abundance of this type of scenery.

So, still on narrow lanes we came across a Forestry Commission car park at ‘The Arch’.
The Arch itself was built across the road to commemorate King George III’s Golden Jubilee in 1810. It was the owner of the Hafod estate, Thomas Johnes who commissioned it, but to me it seems to be in the middle of nowhere and pointless. Maybe in 1810 it could be seen from the manor house and perhaps spanned the main driveway to the house.

There are three walks marked up from the car park, the red route, the white route and the blue route. We took the white route (the shortest) which passed through woodland with 200 hundred year old beech trees. They were magnificent reaching straight up to the sky, their grey trunks straight and solid, the green canopy not quite dense enough to block out the light was like a filigree of green silk. The undergrowth was still managing to cling on with a few flowers and there were some fungi on the dead wood.

The next day we finally arrived at Llyn Clywedog and took the lane around the back. There are some fantastic grassy pull in’s and we found a spot where I could sit spinning with the lake 3 steps away. As always in this area the mountain scenery was beautiful and reflected in the lake, a most perfect spinning spot.

Lln Clywedog is another reservoir and below the dam are the remains of the Bryn Tail Lead Mine. Severn Trent have established several footpaths around the lake and one takes in the Lead Mine. The lake is very beautiful and is said to be the best in Wales by some. I’m not ready to pass judgement yet, I’d like to see all the others first.

We had lunch in ‘The Lookout’ a car park on one of the higher points around the lake in which Severn Trent have made a viewing area where you can see Red Kites, Buzzards as well as Canada Geese and other species of birds. Although we didn’t see any there are also Squirrels, Polecats and voles, a brilliant area for wildlife as well as the stunning views.

Sadly we had to move on and our last night out this trip was scheduled for the Long Mynd. This is where my map reading gets really interesting. I decided to take him across country, down roads we’d never visited before and boy did I find some intriguing lanes. On the way we stopped for a stroll around Newtown, there’s a nice wool shop, and this time we visited the Textile Museum. It was really interesting, the museum is in a row of terraced cottages and takes in 3 of the houses. The ground floor shows the living and eating area of the families, the first floor is made up into the sleeping area and the third floor is one huge room that spans all three cottages and is where the weaving looms were worked. I was fascinated because I’ve thought that the industrial sized looms were always in a factory setting with workers going home at the end of the day, but here home was below the ‘factory’. The wooden floors had the dips where feet have walked back and forth over the years at the looms and I was intrigued with how many machines there would have been . The noise downstairs must have been dreadful, it’s a good job they didn’t work nights!

They also had wool carding desks, this is the first time I’ve seen one, it’s a bit like our old school desks, you know the ones where the wooden seat was joined to the table. This one though had a carding board with spikes on it nailed to the lid and raw fleece was kept in the desk and drawn through a hole at the front. Carding would still have been difficult, but as I have spent hours with two hand carders I know the desk type would be easier on the arms and wrists. The top floor was also part of the ‘factory’ but we didn’t have enough parking time to do the whole thing so a return visit is in order.

Continuing on our way we returned to the narrow lanes, narrow as in touching the banks on both sides and this time it seemed to go on for miles, we could see a massive hill in front of us and that’s where the road went. Up and up but thankfully once out of the valley the ground either side was flat and passing was possible. We were lucky, we didn’t meet anyone. We ended up on the highest point above Church Stretton and dined amongst the heather.

It was getting late and the wind was so strong we decided to move to a lower altitude where we could get a little shelter.

It has been a fantastic few days, lonely places, spectacular scenery, plenty of sunshine and blue skies and the chance to stand and stare, something we should all do more of.

South Wales

2007-04-28T12:22:00.000Z

For our next outing we chose Mid Wales but we were going to take the pretty route to get there. Our first night was spent on The Long Mynd in Shropshire. It's a beautiful mountainous area the highest point being Brown Clee Hill at 1771 feet asl. There are some wonderful walks beside streams that have cut valleys into the hillsides and one in particular that we enjoy, starts at Little Stretton and climbs onto the Mynd. This time of year the fresh green of the trees against a backdrop of the dead bracken is a colour match made in heaven. The Spring flowers cover the roadside banks on the lanes and everything is fresh and vibrant.

We took a short stroll along one of the many easy to follow footpaths across the top of the Mynd, well I wanted to see what was over the horizon - more moorland hillsides as it turned out, and it only made me want to walk further but it was getting late. I did notice on the wooden post near our campsite that the 'shuttle bus' stopped there. What a great way to have a walk, park at the bottom, catch the shuttle to the top and have an easy, lazy walk down no maps needed, just follow the arrows.

Anyway, not this trip, we have other destinations. It was low cloud when we woke next morning and so we instructed flossie (GPS Navigation) to get us to Pontypool by the quickest route, yes Pat's kite manufacturer lives in Pontypool and he's set his heart on an XFS Delta. Looks like my camera's going to get another trip into the wide blue yonder in the name of Kite Aeirial Photography.

Bev and Dan Leigh are a lovely couple and despite the kites being made in their spare room, Dan is a world renowned designer and manufacturer of Delta kites used in Falconry as well as for pleasure. He's experimenting at the moment on some new ideas and designs. We were lucky, he had made three of the X type for an Arab who then decided he didn't want them so we got the blue one.

After a couple of hours, where we not only put the world to rights but travelled most of it in our talk and stories, we got on our way. As we were so close to Blaenavon where The Big Pit is, a coal mine, I said I'd like to make another visit. It's part of the 'National Museums and Galleries of Wales' and a tour down the pit is free and well worth the visit.

Our guide was Peter, the same one who took us around 2 years ago. He's a typical Welsh coal miner, his sense of humour is only outshone by his extremely good looks, he'd agree and have a laugh at that comment. Ours was the last tour of the day and there were only 7 of us so we all got a good view of everything. They have two tours now the New mine and the Old mine. As we had seen the coalface last time, Peter took us on the old tour. This meant stepping back in time to when the mines were first opened and children as young as 8 years as well as women worked down the mines.

First of all we were kitted out with battery belt and a tin water bottle like thing which in fact was a lifesaver. If there was a problem with methane or smoke this tin thing could save your life and in fact during his 20 years, Peter has used one once and he's still here to tell the tale. It has a clamp for your nose and a torturous protuberance that goes in your mouth. Inside the tin is some powder that takes out the poisonous bit of carbon monoxide leaving carbon dioxide and of course there is some oxygen in there and you can get to safety. It lasts about an hour but that's long enough and apparently it's the most uncomfortable thing to use.

Tin hat in place and then it's highway robbery, they come round you all with a sack and you have to drop all your equipment that uses dry cell batteries into it as well as lighters and smoking equipment. This is called contraband and OK perhaps there's no danger of methane in an unworked mine but it's still part of the tour. In the real days of mining one miner had to pay 10 shillings (50p) fine as well as apologising to the miners and the owners by way of a printed notice, for taking his pipe down. Ten shillings would have been a fortune to him but it shows how important it was that the rules were obeyed.

The cage is next and for a pit it's a big one, that's how the pit got it's name 'Big pit' from the size of the shaft not the depth. We were only going down 90 metres instead of the sometimes 1000+ metres and the speed had been slowed down to 2 metres per second for us 'wussies',( Peter is definitely asking for trouble here), instead of the miners usual 4 metres per second.

We saw how the coal face was sectioned into seperate tunnels and a team of three would work each section, two men digging out the coal and a boy loading the truck. The tunnel needed to be propped up as they went along and it must have been a terryfying experience opening up the tunnel and having unsupported roof above your working area.

When loaded the truck had to be marked with each individual gang's number and then pushed to where it could be hauled to the surface. Each truck was checked and wages were docked for anything other than coal ie stone or slag. It must have been a terrible life, working 12 hours a day after having walked to work, sometimes over rough moorland. Miners would arrive home black from the coal and Peter was telling us that his Aunt could remember when his Grandfather, father and Uncle all worked down the mine and the rule was the first home got the clean water, so the two boys would be in the yard fighting each other to get in for the first bath and very often Grandad would sneak past them and pip them both to the post. It must have been a housewife's nightmare, can you imaging trying to get that much hot water ready on an open fire every day!

Over time things obviously improved and he showed us what was left of the engine that was used to winch the wagons up or down inclines. It was necessary for the winchman to know when to start and stop and a simple system was devised. Two bare wires were strung along the tunnel sides about 4 inches apart. When you made a circuit by touching both wires with a metal rod a bell would ring in the winchman's cabin, simple as 3 2 1. 3 rings to come, 2 to go and 1 to stop.

This system produced sparks and in 1913 caused a massive explosion (unfortunately I can't remember which mine) and resulted in the death of over 400 miners, most of them died from carbon monoxide poisoning but the blast was so great that an engineer on the surface was decapitated by flying debris.

This was the point when the two wires were covered and the contact point was inside a covered box. Now all the miners had to do was to pull the wire or press the green button on the box and I was allowed to press the button - such importance!

The stables were still in tact with all the ponies names on each stall, this could have been for the benefit of the tourists though. The ponies were well looked after and well fed and had to be mucked out every day, they couldn't afford to have methane creating horse muck down there. The ponies never went to the surface until the unions managed to get an annual fortnight's holiday for the miners. The ponies were then taken to the surface for their holiday but it was difficult job getting them to back in that cage.

We took the old mine route back to the bottom of the shaft and part way we all had to turn out our lights. It was real blackness and no matter how close I held my hand to my face I couldn't see it. Underground is the only place you'll ever experience true blackness. It is quite scary.

Back at the surface we retrieved our contraband and cameras, it's a real pity that you can't take photographs down the mine but it's well worth visiting.

Peter’s last words were ‘If ever you two visit again, please let me know’ so we waited for the sting and sure enough ‘and I’ll have a day off!’ such a lovely chap.

He advised us all to run up to the Gallery building for the last showing of a video about mining. It was an informative video of about 10 minutes and when it ended and the lights came up a voice suddenly boomed out ‘Please now go through the door behind you, and that means you missus, yes go on now through that door’ . There’s a monitor in the corner and a video of a miner pointing and glaring at you. He follows you through the display on other strategically placed monitors and loudspeakers. It was cleverly done and added to the enjoyment. Instead of trying to read all the information boards as is usual in museums these days, he explained it and as he talked about the various pieces of equipment they were lit by a spotlight

It’s the nearest you’ll ever get to being down a real working mine and hearing the noises and the chatter of the miners. We enjoyed the whole show. The museum was closing for the night so we wandered down to the gift shop and exit.

It was still a glorious sunny afternoon and we wandered off looking for a place to spend the night. In Talybont forest we found a peaceful pull-in for the night and the prospect of a fine day to come.

East-ish !

2007-04-26T08:59:00.000Z

Decision made we headed for Spurn point. It’s a fascinating piece of coast line. A spit of land made up from sand and shingle washed down the coast, it extends into the Humber estuary 3 ½ miles. It’s narrow and in places is only 200 feet wide so it’s easy to keep dashing from the seaward side to the estuary looking for ships and birds.

It’s owned by the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust and of course they charge parking. I remember one year we decided to have the laugh on the Trust and walked along the seaward side of the spit. It took us ages and was a lot further than 3 ½ miles, you see we walked along the outer edge of the curve! I’m not sure who had the last laugh!

It’s a good place to go bird watching especially at migration time. If the weather is bad out to sea and blows migrating birds off course they can end up landing on the first bit of land they see - Spurn.

At the end of the spit there is a large area of Sea Buckthorn, a deadly vicious plant with huge thorns that tear at you. If you can fiddle a way through there are a lot of old WW2 buildings amongst the sand dunes. It was an important area during the war and heavily guarded. There are also some WW2 buildings and gun emplacements on the cliffs at Easington which are being undermined by the sea. Each year we visit, more of the buildings have fallen onto the beach and the sea is attacking the concrete structures.

There’s been a lifeboat station on the point since the early 1800’s and it’s the only station in the country that has a fulltime paid crew and they have to live on the point. The crew have to be available 24 hours a day when they are on duty and cannot leave the point during that time. This means that the wives and families have to do all the errands, shopping, taking the car to the garage, going to the post office, taking the kids out for the day or to the pictures. It must be difficult for them and we have total admiration for both the crew and their families.

I do enjoy a walk on the beach here but it’s certainly not a pretty place and the mud coloured water does not invite paddling!

We spent the first night a little further up the coast and next day had a walk along the beach. The cliffs were still of boulder clay and being washed away at a terrific rate each year. There are very few pebbles or shells but I did my best and ended up with one pebble and a piece of sea washed wood that looks just right for Ikbana.

After the warmth of the last 2 weeks it felt really cold in the wind and we couldn’t decide where to go. We were getting bored sitting in the van so went to Burton Agnes where there is a craft shop, a Norman Manor House and of course Burton Agnes Hall. We didn’t feel any great wish to look around the Hall’s gardens on account of the cost and anyway we prefer wild and natural gardens. If you like Guinea Pigs this is the place to visit with the kids in the summer. There’s an enclosed area where kids can play and there must be about 30 or 40 ‘pigs’ all running loose, a lovely little corner.

We bypassed Bridlington and went onto the North York Moors. At this time of year the grassy roadside banks are beautiful, covered in Primroses, Violets, Stitchwort and other Spring flowers. I love to see them, better than any formal gardens!

We did drive through Whitby but it was so busy and all the parking was full, we should have known really, it was Saturday and the weather has been so good that all of the North of England had descended on the town. Instead we went to Sandsend, a mile further North for my obligatory walk on sand and paddle.

The boulder clay cliffs in places are 100 feet high and we scrambled down onto the surprisingly empty beach. It’s a lovely beach, wide when the tides low and sandy with heavenly pockets of pebbles. The pebbles have been washed out of the boulder clay and vary in size and colour. The clay forming the cliffs was deposited by glaciers during the ice age. As the glacier moved slowly along it collected the ’boulders’ and dragged them across the underlying rock, so some of the pebbles have a lovely flat side to them making them perfect for pendants. I live in the hope that on one of my forays I’m going to find something spectacular, well you never know what’s hiding in the clay, I could be the next Mary Anne what sit!

I had a happy hour or two trying to find the perfect pebble and collecting some pretty pendant shaped ones for polishing. I’ve got a small tumbler and it’s lovely to end up with a pot of polished pebbles from our travels.
This coast is constantly being eroded from the rain as well as the sea and wind, and barriers of huge chunks of rock are being built up along the foreshore. It’s especially so at Whitby beneath the Abbey and we noticed that the barrier is being extended along the beach towards Sandsend. I must admit it’s very dangerous to get too close to the cliff , a mudslide could occur at any time.

Next day we woke early and were walking around Hutton Le Hole on the North York Moors before the milkman! It’s a very pretty village with a stream running through the middle and beautiful cottages with olde worlde plants running riot in the gardens and over the walls. It’s a perfect place for kids to grow up, stream to go stickle backing or paddling, a lovely green to play tag or games on, not very good for the typical football or cricket though on account of it’s gradient, all nestled in a quiet valley, I’d love to live there for a year.

We followed the road back to civilisation and again the grassy banks were coloured with the Spring flowers, if ever I get a lot of money I shall buy some land and have my own lane built and planted with Violets and Primroses and Bluebells and, well you get the idea.

Helmsley was our next stop, we remembered some craft shops that were interesting. It’s a nice town and does have some lovely crafts and we visited the local craft show in the town hall. I get disappointed with some of the goods on sale as crafts. Where the pieces are bought and just put together I can’t see them as true crafts. Crafts to me are where the raw material is bought and the item made by yourself so cards would be painted or pressed flowers arranged, jewellery is made from wire, or beads made from clay, buying the pre-faceted stones and then just sticking them in pre-cast mounts is not a craft. I like to see them and indeed make them myself but I can’t see it as a craft!

I’ll get off my soapbox now and tell you that we were both horrified when we saw the top of our van through the first floor window of the craft show. It was green, that’s got to be the first job when we get home.

We had a stroll through Helmsley and along the stream, all the towns and villages hereabouts have a stream and they’re really lovely, life in the town. I found a wool shop with a sale! But it was only 9.50 am and I thought it might open at 10 am but much to Pat’s delight it was Sunday and it didn’t open at all.

By now it was raining and we headed South. Passing Borough Bridge I noticed the ‘Devil’s Arrows’ 3 huge stones around 20 feet high and dating back to 2000 BC. Apart from the type of stone and sizes nothing is known about the stones, so here’s a good chance to get the imagination in gear, who knows, inspiration might strike.

The rain followed us for another few miles and we headed for home, a bit of a disappointing few days, perhaps we have outgrown the East Coast.

Anglesey

2007-04-12T07:16:00.000Z

The weather was fantastic so at 8.30 am we started out for Anglesey. At 9.05 am we stopped at Cromford Mill to check out an art exhibition. The watercolours were lovely and unusually we liked all of them. The artist was obviously interested in everything, people, wildlife, scenery, interesting old cars abandoned in fields, in fact anything and everything.

So much for our early start and getting to Holyhead for lunch! At about 1.30 the same day we arrived at Fedw Fawr, a piece of coastline in the care of the National Trust on the North coast of the island. It was glorious, 150 foot cliffs, grass cropped short by a herd of feral ponies and covered in wild flowers, primroses, celandines, violets, and many more that I couldn't identify without my book.

The herd of ponies were unshod and ungroomed. The hair was moulting and you could see where the White ponies in particular had been rolling on the ground. They seem to be left to roam around the area in order to keep the grass cropped short.

The sun shone and we walked down onto the white pebble beach. You probably realise by now that I love pebbles! As it was the first day of the trip I was forbidden to collect any but he didn't mention sea glass!

We climbed onto the next headland and sat in the sunshine looking out to sea. The views are lovely both East and West along the coast and Pat did a sketch whilst I just sat and tried to memorise the moment.

The Anglesey coast path is exactly what it says it is and you can now walk the complete coast. We walked a short way towards the West and found a comfortable brew stop where we wouldn't be mugged by the ponies. It was fab and we really enjoyed the peace and quiet.

I was sky watching and trying to sort out some clouds, the one in the photo was eerie, it appeared to be travelling towards us like a huge lid. I think it was a bank of stratus with the sun lighting up the top and leaving the underside in the shade. Look at reflections on the water, the highlighted cloud is being reflected on the sea, doesn't it remind you of icebergs?

The next day we spent some time on heathland bordering the Valley RAF base. Valley is a training ground for the RAF and we were treated to some spectacular low flying by the Hawk jets. It was a bit noisy at times though, especially when three went over in formation. It's a great spot , not many people but plenty of wildlife. We saw 6 Buzzards at one time all thermaling in the same area, gaining height. There were quiet a few Skylarks but a local dog walker who remembered playing on the heath as a kid was telling us that there used to be a lot more. As a child he can remember seeing their nests everywhere, now you would be very lucky to find a nest. I was trying to work out why the decline because the heath has remained the same. We decided it must be that their food source has diminished.

We walked towards the golf course (we have a knack of finding footpaths that cross golf courses) and found a Hedgehog. It didn't look well, it was going round in circles on it's long legs and none of the photo's I took were good enough to even keep. It wasn't frothing at the mouth or anything but we decided not to touch it and we quietly walked away.

A green road that led off the footpath ended up at a 10 foot high iron gate, the sort that guarded the entrance to a drive leading to the big house! This one led straight into a field full of sheep, but you could just make out a faint track that once did lead to a fine house and the green lane we walked along was probably the main entrance.

That night we spent on the edge of the Newborough Forest, a large expanse of pine trees that cover a huge area of dunes. It's an important habitat for certain species of flowers and some birds. We did manage to walk to the sea, about a mile and a half, and it was heavy going in the sand. I managed to find enough shells to fill a margarine tub by walking another mile along the tide line. They were very few and far between because the beach was a huge expanse of nothingness, the sort I like, just me, Pat and the sea.

Back at the carpark I decided to sort out the shells and immediately found a comrade in arms in Abbey. She was 7 years old and came from Bolton. We were closely watched by Mum and Ollie (4 year old brother) until he decided he wanted some of the action. After parting with some of the shells they particularly liked we all started collecting the unbroken ones that were covering the picnic area. Ollie kept taking them to the van and telling Pat that 'these are for the lady, will you please make sure she gets them'. They were a couple of lovely kids and we enjoyed a half hour playtime while Dad got their bikes set up. Their Mum and Dad should be proud of them and we enjoyed meeting the whole family.

We had a relaxing few days and managed to stay away from the crowds but still had some wonderful walking before going home for more mundane things. Still we only need to be home for 4 days before we can set off again for partures new.

South Stack Lighthouse

Local Chat

2007-04-12T06:47:00.000Z

It’s a few weeks now since I made an entry but I’m afraid we’ve been pretty boring, appointments with Dentist’s, van repairs, house maintenance and such like. We’ve managed to continue the local walks and recently met up with a local man on the Cromford canal at Ironville. He had found some old brown ceramic inkwells, probably from the 18th or early 19th century. Where the ground had been disturbed when the new cycle path was laid, the soil was full of inkwells and bits of old ceramics. Was it a canal barge load that was discarded? Was there an inkwell factory close by? I’ll probably never know but we found a couple for ourselves, one complete and one slightly damaged, they now reside in our garden along with lots of other interesting antiquities(rubbish). I feel a bit like an inland beach comber.

We also met up with a local Water Vole on one of the walks and my new camera certainly makes taking photographs easier.

We just had to get out somewhere so we decided to spend the night in the Goyt Valley near Buxton in The Peak District. Buxton, the highest town of it’s size in England is a Spa town with the Victorian Baths still in evidence. The Romans were probably the first to settle here and the town was called Aquae Amemetiae. The thermal spring water is a constant 27.5 degrees C and you can buy the bottled spring water from the little shop across the road from St Anne’s well. At St Anne’s well, if you don’t mind queuing, you can fill up as many containers as you wish, for free! It amuses us that the bottled water has a best before date, even though it’s well over 1000 years old when it leaves the spring.

The Goyt Valley was a hive of industry before the Errwood and Fernilee reservoirs were built. Pickfords removals started life here starting with Thomas Pickford in 1670 who turned to road mending and finding the packhorse trains an alternative load on their return journey from delivering quarry stone.

There was a gunpowder factory, a paint mill which had a water wheel providing the power to crush barites for the paint, farming, coal mines and a railway linking the Cromford canal to the Peak Forest canal at Whaley Bridge. It’s a very popular tourist area in good weather and has some lovely moorland walks. In late summer the hills are purple with heather and they look magnificent.

We spent another night in the Peak District near Brassington, oh how lovely and quiet it was compared with home. We live only 200 yards from the M1 motorway and just recently the wind has been from the North and we hear the constant roar from Junction 28, making the garden a no go area.

We spent the next day on the Staffordshire Moorlands, somewhere we’ve not walked in the past and we managed to park in small car park at Gradbach where an old silk mill has been renovated and is now the local Youth Hostel.

The area is called The Black Forest, sounds like a part of Germany doesn’t it? There are a lot of walks in the forest and Lud’s church is here, a natural rock formation. Unfortunately we didn’t have the time to walk up to the church so it’s a place we will certainly have to return to and get some photo’s and find out the history of the place.

Later that month we walked a footpath starting from behind Alfreton Church which leads down into the valley between Alfreton and Shirland. The views were lovely but we can’t say that it was a pleasant walk because it’s surrounded by busy roads and the traffic noise is constant.
The path took us across the Shirland Golf course and at one point you could see the footpath 200yds away, but across part of the golf course that does not form part of the right of way, so instead of making a dash for it (there were too many golfers about with long clubs and a liberal dose of barbed wire) and climbing over the fence, we took the legal route, a half mile walk including some of the busy road.

We were climbing back towards Alfreton when thirst overtook us so we stopped for the second brew of the walk (got to keep our strength up) and were treated to a Great Spotted Woodpecker flying straight towards us. Their flight is very distinctive, a flap of the wings which takes the bird up slightly in an upwards curve and then a short glide which means that it glides downwards in a curve so it’s flap, up, glide, down making a radio wave like pattern.

What followed next was fascinating, it must have been a male ‘cos it started to drum on the pylon that it landed on. The drumming noise is usually made by hammering on an old tree trunk with it’s beak, and this resonates throughout the area calling all females to step this way and telling all males to go someplace else. The noise the pylon emitted was loud and certainly resonated across the fields, so much so that two more Woodpeckers arrived simultaneously. One was certainly female and the pair flew off towards the church, an apt place to go when considering what they were going to do!

It’s amazing how much wildlife there is in the locality when you don’t have to spend all day in the office, apart from all the birds we’re seeing and hearing I’ve seen more stoats and weasels this year than I’ve seen in the last twenty.

Remember I mentioned in one entry about Shaw Wood Nature reserve and the small pits in the wood which looked like the hole left when a tree has been uprooted, well we met up with a friend, and he explained to us what the dips in the ground were. In the Depression the local poor people used to climb the hill and dig out the surface coal, I wonder if the coal mine owners allowed it to happen or whether they were ignorant of it. The contrast to today is unbelievable. It’s so difficult to imagine that the ordinary people were so poor when we take being warm and well fed so much for granted.

It’s now April and we can finally make a run for it, only for a few days but as Confucius says ‘the longest journey starts with the first footstep’ so perhaps our journey through 2007 starts with the first mile, Anglesey here we come.

Four mile walk

2007-02-16T12:09:00.000Z

Today we walked 4 miles on our local footpaths. I have tried to document it with photo’s so please let me know what you think. Is it rubbish?, are the photo’s too much?, is it boring? If I get some feedback I’ll know whether or not to try it again!

We set off from Taylor’s Flour mill at South Wingfield and crossed the River Amber which was running high, a torrent of water was flowing under the bridge.

The fields had dried out quite a bit but there were a lot of fresh mole hills. We think the moles were in danger of drowning and had to keep coming up for a lung full of air.

I like stiles, the different styles of stiles (I hope I’ve spelt them correctly) can be interesting and can sometimes give a clue as to how long the footpath has been around.

The path runs alongside a football pitch which was still a sea of mud.

This is the corner post of the pitch. I bet it's exciting watching a corner in this mess.

Another footbridge to cross this time over a feeder to the Amber but still a lot of water in it.

The path then passes under the main rail line through a purpose built tunnel and comes out onto a farmers track way which doubles as a public footpath.

We turned right (left just goes back to Wingfield via the road) onto a green lane.

Oak apple which contains a larva of a type of gall wasp.

There is a good view of Wingfield Manor from this lane, now in the care of English Heritage where, if you’ve got the energy you can climb the towers to get fantastic views of the surrounding countryside. Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned here in the mid 16th century.

The green lane runs alongside a wooded slope and if you look carefully you’ll notice the soil under the trees is actually shale. Yes, there was a colliery here, over the hill at Oakerthorpe. It’s all completely vanished now except for the slag heaps of course. Anyway it’s made a lovely wooded nature reserve that everyone can wander around and it's given a home to lots of birds and animals.

After about half a mile we took the left path which crosses in front of a house and into the wood. The stile here is in the wall, a squeezer type but someone has kindly put in a little wicket gate.

The wall is also the end of the garden and has a small Dovecote built into it. A Dovecote is where pigeons were kept and they were all free range and fed themselves so there was very little work in rearing the birds, but provided a constant supply of meat. The inside walls have nesting holes from floor to ceiling, it's a bit like a modern block of flats.

A quick sentence for my Sister-in -law …. my brother (her husband) and I were born in a Dovecote after it had been converted for human habitation of course, and Janet, I couldn't find a blue plaque on this building either!

The path up through the woods leads to a sunken way and ultimately to a very old quarry, only a small quarry and I haven’t yet found out where the stone was used.

The ground in this part of the wood is full of Bluebell shoots and it’s going to be a real sight in a few weeks, the proverbial blue carpet. We’re looking forward to seeing it.

We continued ever upwards, it’s not too far, honestly…...............................to the top where it was time for a sustenance stop. It’s very important to keep your strength up with regular snacks !!when walking in winter. The temperature was about 10 degrees but you’ve got to practice these stops so that in the event of a cold day you don’t get caught wanting!

This is another sideline of walking, looking for interesting corners and trying to work out what happened. In this bit of a copse we found several very old farm implements left to die in peace.
This one was a ……………asked Pat and what it was used for………..raking up the hay!

Close by there is an old hay cart, the kind that you see in chocolate box pictures and jigsaws. Deeper into the wood there are just the skeletons of other implements slowly getting buried by the undergrowth. I imagine future archaeologists gently scraping the soil away and marvelling at steel spring systems in use. Then again there may well be plenty kept in museums so that archaeology becomes redundant or the technology of the day means that a camera is pointed at the ground, set on depth (a bit like we set the focus on head and shoulders or close up) and takes a perfect image of what is buried. That would certainly take the fun out a dig.

Full of new calories we felt fortified to continue with our journey. For the next mile or so we were on new ground. At the corner of the copse where we dined there is a Sweet Chestnut tree.

The corkscrew bark is a dead give away for this species in Winter (of course the chestnuts and shells on the ground helped a bit as well). We’ll have to do this walk again next Autumn to check on the edibility and size.

I have been noting all the fruit and nut stops on our walks and have found several apple trees that are sweet for eating as well as cooking. Hawthorn berries are on the menu next autumn, squeezed and sieved until the juice is free of seeds and skin at which point it should set like jelly. It’s then cut into strips and dried in the sun (oven in this country I think) and it can last years in that state. Apparently it is very sweet and fruity. We’ll let you know.

Stratocumulus stratiformis opacus (impressive huh!) It means it's black and you can't see through it. Ed.

Back to the walk. We love these local footpaths over fields and through woods and all the nooks and crannies that make up our countryside. Look at the Hazel in this hedge, it has been coppiced and see how many walking sticks there are. A true free range walking stick factory. No pollution, no noise, no maintenance. Just cut sticks when ready and nature will do the manufacturing.

The next part of the path wound along the edge of the fields and we thank the farmer for not cutting down the trees or cutting back the undergrowth to make his field larger. It’s a path that has all sorts of wonderful things to look for. The first Spring flowers , Butterflies, birds even small mammals of which we saw none on this walk. Better luck next time.

Nooks....

... and crannies.

I didn’t take a picture of the Oakerthorpe road which we crossed near the Anchor pub. A fascinating place the pub, it has a mighty big Anchor in the front garden and the sign shows the pub to be original 17th century. It was built in 1642 and the first renovation was 1925. The enlargements to the original buildings have all been done in the last 30 years.

Over the road the path is between back garden fencing and a small grassy field.
It leads into Oakerthorpe nature reserve past a nice looking house with a nasty looking Alsatian.
I love the real single snowdrop.

He didn’t take too kindly to having his photo taken!

It’s very muddy in places in the reserve but some boardwalks have been erected over the worse spots. It’s marshy area with ponds and from the information board it owes it’s existence to mining subsidence. Is there any where in this corner of England that doesn’t?

It’s a lovely place to find the more unnoticed flowers and fungi at the right time of year and frogs and toads and grass snakes. I would love to see a real live wild grass snake hanging from a hedge in summer. I’ve been looking for 30 years but probably not seeing!

We didn’t walk the reserve today we continued over Alfreton Golf Course.

Sorry about this one, I just like old gnarled trees!

Golf courses always have nice open areas with stands of trees, sandpits and beautiful lawned areas just right for elevenses. Only joking, I think the greensman would have us shot on the spot if we lit a fire on his green.

Across 2 more stiles and fields, over the Oakerthorpe to Alfreton road and back into more fields.
Oakerthorpe road over the brow of the hill.

Oakerthorpe is in the dip.

Ha, there it is nestling cosily between the hills.

Nice views from here down towards the Peacock Inn. An old coaching inn and reputedly to have a tunnel leading direct to Wingfield Manor. The 'Inn' was also a post office where the post for the area was sorted. The pigeon holes and parcel cupboards are still intact and on view.

The farm buildings looked just like a shanty town as we approached and I couldn’t resist a photo. Just look at the subtle changes in the colours in the roofing, a true representation of mid 20th century culture. The recycled wooden fence posts used in a then fashionable abstract pattern to give the whole structure stability. Did you spot the wall hangings on the right hand side to give the whole ensemble a homely atmosphere?

I shan’t even try to describe the next building but I just had to get a picture of the Cockerel who was jealously guarding his harem of one chicken. She was totally ignoring him and quite happily scratching in the soft earth.

The next unhappy soul we encountered was the farm dog and he was very brave, barking and trying to get behind us but a quick snap of the lense cover and he slunk away. Seems like dogs do not like their photo to be taken.

The footpath we intended to take passes to the rear of The Peacock but the ground was pure mud, curdled by the cows and in danger of suffocating our toes. So, we backtracked and took the path in a direct line to the railway.

The cows and bullocks ignored us, thankfully, but look at his cow horns, one skyward and the other earthbound. Great aren’t they, makes me want another motorbike!

Just look at the mud near the stile, and this was the good path.

The path sloped down towards the railway and instead of crossing we turned left and headed towards the road running through South Wingfield.

No I didn’t collect anymore of this fungi, Jew’s Ear, remember it’s cold and slippery and not much better cooked!

We came across some old railway carriages and buildings that looked like they were a railway station.

Sadly they were derelict but given time and money they would make a super home, especially with the ideas that modern interior designers have. They were in fact the remaining buildings for South Wingfield station.

Look what we found amongst the rubble, a bit of beauty amongst the beastly.

Instead of taking the road back to the car we decided to continue back into Shaw Wood.

The path sloped gently upwards....

and upwards .....

to the top corner and ..........

we walked .......

and walked.....

past the den which we think is the local kids, towards the copse where we had our first tea stop.

After a second tea break we retraced our footsteps down the sunken lane,

through the wicket gate

along the green lane

where I noticed this tree. A stag’s head in my eyes but his antlers have gone a bit awry!

Under the railway

a quick photo opportunity of the Manor (on telephoto)

and oh good! The van’s still there.

A lovely day and some beautiful countryside with interesting wooded areas. It's friendly and comfortable walking in this type of countryside. Hope you've enjoyed sharing the walk, please let us know your favourite walks.

Cromford Canal

2007-02-12T16:29:00.000Z

We’ve been exploring the Cromford Canal over the last few days and finding out a bit of it’s history. The canal runs from Langley Mill to Cromford and is just over 14 miles long, or at least it was. Sadly most of it now is either a dry bed or has been destroyed by allotments, gardens, roads and other modern improvements. In it's heyday it carried stone from the Derbyshire Quarries, coal from mines around Pinxton and Somercoates, iron ore from Butterley as well as cotton for Arkwright's mills, the pioneer of the factory system but that's another story.

The start at Cromford.

We’ve walked the first part from Cromford Wharf to Gregory’s tunnel many times and cycled as far as Ambergate a few years ago. It can be a very noisy walk along this stretch because it follows the main A6 trunk road along the valley but in Winter the water can look like a black mirror, reflecting everything in perfect detail along it’s path. Look into the water and see the skeleton trees 40 feet high or deep in this case and the sky beyond that, with clouds at 2000 ft., not bad for 3 ft of water! In summer it's a lovely walk with the leafy green trees providing dappled shade for you and the animals.

Sheds at the bottom of the Middleton incline, the railway that crossed the Peak to Buxton, now a walking/cycling route.

It’s an important stretch of water here supporting Dabchick (Little Grebe) and the Water Vole. The Vole is becoming very rare and you need patience to scan the water’s edge for that tell tail ripple, which then travels out in concentric circles until dissipating on the far bank. If you’re lucky you’ll be able to follow the Vole's progress along the bank.

Little Grebe(Dabchick) with Moorhen behind.

The River Derwent also runs along this valley and the canal crosses the river using Wigwell aqueduct. From the aqueduct you can look down onto Leawood pump house which has a beam engine that still works. It was used to pump water up from the river to the canal. I try to imagine the cost in both money and time, building not only the canal but Codnor and Butterley reservoirs (to keep the canal in water) and the pump house, and it seems unbelievable that the effort and cost was worthwhile for a 14 mile stretch of waterway. But, it linked to the Erewash canal which linked to the River Trent and opened up the whole world to the businesses of Derbyshire. Before the canal, all goods had to be transported by horse and cart, slow and only small loads over rough terrain. A canal barge could carry much more and use one horse to pull, a saving in time, men and animals. The share prices increased to above 10% so it was a shrewd investment.

Leawood pumphouse and Wigwell aqueduct.

Standing on the aqueduct you are at tree top height and it’s great to see the Blue Tits flitting about eating insects from the canopy of the Alders an unusual eye level view.

Alder catkins.

A second aqueduct takes the canal over the railway line which also runs along this valley. It's a very busy valley with road, rail, river and canal following the same route.

Many of the bridges have grooves in the walls from the tow ropes, it always amazes me that rope can wear away stone, I wonder how often the ropes broke, it’s not something you read about in the history books.

The canal from Ambergate to Bulbridge including a third aqueduct at Bullbridge over the River Amber, has been destroyed and now has factories built on it. It is still possible to take public footpaths around the factories and then pick up the dry canal bed through the allotments at Sawmills but we’ve not walked this part.

For the next stretch we parked at Hartshay and walked East towards the A38 and the start of Butterley tunnel. The Western portal of Butterley tunnel is actually underneath the road now, it was extended by using modern culvert methods when the A38 was widened. It’s a mess, it’s overgrown and muddy but like a lost world, forgotten by man.

Forgotten part of canal.

Along this stretch the canal is in a cutting about 20 feet deep, cut off by the A38 at one end and the A610 at the other, you can still hear the traffic but you can also hear the Long Tailed Tits and Robins calling. A little wildlife haven with real water in this stretch. It’s getting overgrown now with ferns, bramble, nettles and such like, but is still lovely and very explorable because you never know what sort of wildlife will have taken up residence.

Harts tongue Fern.

Willow catkins

On our way back to Hartshay, (it’s definitely an out and back stroll) we climbed up and over the A610, the canal has been piped under it, and stopped to have elevenses, soup and sandwich.

Tea Break

Whilst the water was boiling we watched what we thought was a Chiff Chaff flitting in the willows. We know some do stay over winter with us because we’ve heard them at Ogston Reservoir but because it didn’t sing or give any type of call we couldn’t make a positive identification.

As it was such a nice day we walked straight past the van and continued Westwards towards Sawmills and heard and caught sight of a small Goldcrest. I always associate these birds with pine forest so we had to chase it through the trees to get a good view. They are a magical sight in the courting season when the gold crest on their heads stands up and is the most brilliant yellow, once seen never forgotten. The canal still has some water in it for about half a mile and then it’s been filled in but the towpath is still marked as a public right of way along to the Sawmills section.

The Eastern portal to Butterley tunnel.

The next part, East of Butterley tunnel (the tunnel is two miles long), forms part of our local walks and fishing grounds. The Codnor Reservoir (I have not yet caught anything, not even a cold here) was built to supply the canal with water and the canal has now been diverted into the reservoir. You can still see most of the old canal bed between the road and the reservoir, especially in wet weather because it’s a swamp! A coal seam in the making, it only needs another million years or so.

Where the canal runs into Codnor Reservoir. Taken from the steel footbridge. The far distance is Kingfisher country.

The Reservoir

Coal seam in the making

We met a local naturalist on the steel footbridge and he pointed out a Water Vole feeding on greenery. He was very knowledgeable and told us where we could find Tawny Owls roosting in an old Oak tree, just look at a 45 degree angle from the telegraph post to the third tree from the left...., well you get the picture, favourite perches of the local Kingfisher and some new walks that we can try. The amazing part was after we left him we saw the Kingfisher, the first time we’ve ever seen one on this stretch of water. It kept in front of us for a short way and I managed to get a distant photograph of it (can you spot the blue?) before it finally flew back towards the reservoir. One day we hope to have our own local patch where the birds and animals are like family.

Spot the Blue

At the other end of the reservoir the canal bed has been deepened to about 20 ft, something to do with flood relief for Ironville but it’s left the Pinxton extension of the canal literally high and dry so there is now a bridge to nowhere.

Bridge to nowhere!

The next couple of miles do have varying amounts of water in it but all the locks have been destroyed and there are parts that have fully grown willow trees in it. The bike frames, prams and obligatory supermarket trolley detract from what could be a great amenity for the local people. Nevertheless it’s a pleasant walk especially on a foggy, frosty day when everything is covered in hoar frost.

The next part is filled in and relies on footpaths that eventually lead to Langley ill where a certain amount of road walking is necessary past the opencast mining that destroyed the canal bed.

The canal joined the Erewash canal at the Great Northern Basin at Langley Mill where boatyards have been built over the original route.

There were two extensions to the canal and we’ve often walked the Leawood branch near Cromford which was built by Peter Nightingale, a relative of the famous Florence, one source says Uncle to, and the other Father! It was used by Smedley’s for cotton transport and lead ore was taken to Leawood to a smelting plant which is buried under Smedley’s car park. There was a fourth aqaeduct over the main railway line from Derby to Matlock but this has been removed and replaced with a footbridge.

Photo taken from a footbridge which has replaced the aquaduct over the main railway running from Derby to Matlock.

The Pinxton branch was 2 miles long and not much of it survives but there is a very dirty, very muddy footpath you can follow to the Pinxton end where there is a short stretch with water and it ends up at The Wharf, a nice fishing spot where I have caught a beautiful Tench, just like green leather, as well as the usual small Perch and Roach. Coal was driving force behind the Pinxton branch and once opened enabled the mining companies to open new mines that had been uneconomical due to lack of suitable transport.

The walks have been pleasant, some on sunny days and some on dull miserable days but there has always been wildlife around and old locks and canal furniture to search out.

We’ve enjoyed walking the canal for many years and no doubt will continue to do so. Has anyone walked the whole 14 miles? We'd love to hear your experiences.

For more information and old photos visit the website at http://www.cromfordcanal.org.uk/history.html

Shaw Wood

2007-01-20T09:09:00.000Z

We had a fantastic day on Tuesday, the sun shone and the rain stayed away. We went to explore Shaw Wood, a small area of woodland at Oakerthorpe in Derbyshire that has been turned into a Nature Reserve. From the road it looks pretty nondescript, bare Sycamore trees, mud, waterlogged footpaths and marsh in the making. It could have something to do with the amount of rain we’ve had this month!

The driest footpath led uphill through the trees over a spoil heap from the colliery that was here many years ago. The trees here have been planted in nice neat rows giving a feel of walking through a crop which is about to harvested, obviously manmade! The woodland floor was very bare as well, no green shoots, dead wood or fungi.

This all changed over the top, it was real wild woodland here and the footpath snaked it’s way along the top of a steep wooded hill. You can see the start of the Derbyshire hills that make up The Peak District through the bare trees across the valley. We were now on the edge of the woodland bordering a field and there were older trees here including Holly, Oak, Beech and Silver Birch, lots of Bluebell shoots, Fungi, dead and rotting tree stumps, a rope swing for the local kids and a den, in fact everything a wood should have. I felt so good, the birds were singing a Great Tit was shouting out his ’Teacher teacher’ call and it certainly felt like Spring.

This is living and I was having a great time photographing different Fungi when Pat noticed a bright yellow blob on a tree trunk which turned out to be ‘Yellow Brain Fungus’ Tremella mesenterica, something I’ve been looking for, for a number of years. Back home I’ve identified all but one of the fungi we found so I’m quite pleased.

Here are a few photos of the more unknown and unnoticed fungi.....

Candlesuff - Xylaria hypoxylon .

Black Bulgar - Bulgaria inquinans

Jew's Ear - Auricularia auricula-judae.

Edible so we cut thin slivers and fried it in butter. It spat and kept leaping out of the frying pan onto the floor, I'm sure you don't have to kill it first, anyway it tasted OK but I didn't like the rubbery texture so we won't be eating that again!

Oyster Mushroom - Pleurotus ostreatus.

Edible but we've not tried this one.

The wood is certainly bigger than we first thought and we’re planning on a few more trips. It should be beautiful in a month or two when the Bluebells are flowering and the leaves on the trees are still the gorgeous fresh spring green.

We’ve made another visit since then, this time walking from South Wingfield. The footpath across the bottom of the football pitch was a quagmire and we could only pity the poor chap who had to take a corner kick! We followed the footpath along the bottom of the hillside and went into the reserve through a little gate. This led onto a what is obviously a very old sunken track way which gently climbed the hill and emerged at an old quarry. It’s a very small quarry and we could only think it was used for the houses below, I’ll have to check out the local library to see if I can find any more information on it.

It was windy on the second visit but we managed to find a sheltered spot to have a brew, a little solid hexamine stove, a pan of water, one cuppa soup and hey presto, heaven, well the Savoy hasn’t got a view like this.

The storm yesterday (Thursday) was obviously cross with us because we have had our roof tiles glued on with an insulating foam and because it couldn’t find a way in it took our letter box lid off at the roots! Now we’ve got a lovely oblong hole in the door, anyone know where we can get just a letter box without having to replace the whole door?

The weather got it’s calm in the wrong place this time, usually it’s before the storm but today, the day after the day before, was beautiful. Slight breeze, blue sky with a few cumulus clouds (yes, I’m still studying clouds, in fact I’ve got a new book about clouds and Pat’s reading it at the moment) warm sunshine and a trip to Hardwick Hall to get some aerial photos. For such a lovely day it was a shame we failed, not only were the photos blurred but they weren’t of the hall, we only got the parkland which is not very interesting.

So we moved over to Rufford park where the birds were all singing and the couple behind us in the car park likened it to a Spring day in March, we couldn’t disagree it was beautiful. We found some Horses Hoof fungus - Fomes fomentarius, on the silver birch tree trunks and we’re going to experiment lighting fires with them. Part of it can be roughed up and used as a tinder that will take a spark, so I’ll let you know how we get on.

We also bought a book on Bugs, it’s brilliant, it’s a kids book but it shows you how to catch Moths with sugar water and how to make a bee house, both of which we’ll give a go but the recipe for Earthworm Meatloaf using 750g of ground beef and I cup of boiled Earthworms finely chopped, I think we’ll give a miss!

My new hooked rug is nearly finished and I’ve only got the flowers to put on Laura’s hat and then I can start on a bag for Jayne and a bag handle for Becky, so if you read this Susan you can let them know I haven’t forgotten them.

Next week is forecast cold so hopefully it will be bright sunshine and we can get out to do some photography and explore a few more of the Derbyshire villages.

Bah Humbug

2007-01-09T20:33:00.000Z

We two are not renowned for our excessive Christmas’s and festive cheer and this year we had our inoculations and Christmas went without a hitch, in fact it passed by us without our knowing. Happily friends and family all enjoyed their holidays.

I have to admit to having a funny turn on Christmas Eve, dancing to ‘This could be the last time’ The Rolling Stones and my Mick Jagger impression had Pat reaching for the camera, the video camera! Threats to put it on U-tube soon calmed me down, I really don’t think the world is ready for that kind of entertainment!

I walked around the village in the morning and it was so quiet and the mildness confused the birds. There was a Blackbird with his beautiful rich melody singing, some Blue Tits and Great Tits calling and a Robin gave me an impromptu chorus of his watery song. The Great Tit, with his ‘teacher, teacher’ call always makes me feel happy because it’s a sound I associate with Spring. The Song Thrush, repeating his call 2 or 3 times is another Spring sound and even he was singing out from a tree on the Common. There was a Sparrow flitting around the hedge with a feather in it’s beak, either collecting nesting material or been fighting? Rooks which do start gathering early were already bagging the prime branches in the Rookery at Wren Hall and I noticed a Kestrel sunning itself in the tree on the Common. A good sign that, because that means there is food, mice and voles and creepy crawlies in the grass.

We are beginning to get withdrawal symptoms from fishing now and so we walked around Pennytown ponds, an oasis in the middle of the industrial estate. As it was Sunday it was fairly peaceful and quiet. Two hardy souls had ventured out but weren’t catching anything. It was very quiet and we had done a circuit before we saw the first ring appear on the water, ha there is life in there!

Halfway round I saw a rat swimming towards the bank close by, thinking it was a water vole we stopped and waited but when it ran straight up the bank towards us we realised it wasn’t ratty of ‘Tales of the Riverbank’ variety but a common brown rat. It stopped underneath some bramble and watched us. I pursed my lips and made a silly noise at which he turned tail and disappeared into a hole just above the water line. So much for my conversational abilities.

I’ve been carding and spinning my Zwartbles fleece. The Zwartbles sheep are a Dutch Rare breed. Maybe 3 years ago we spent a night on a campsite that had a small flock of the large sheep. Of course I started talking wool and spinning and before I knew what had happened Pat had parted with some cash and I had a huge polythene bag full of dirty black fleece.

It was huge, but Zwartbles are huge. It took me ages to get it all washed and I’ve nearly finished carding it now. I’ve already spun some of it and started making a new rug for the van. A real wool rug is so lovely to rest your feet on. The wool is also a beautiful rich black and I’m already looking forward to designing and making more rugs.

I hope to be able to get my Shetland and Jacobs fleece (I’ve just realised I’ve had 6 sheep in our spare room for the last 18 months!) ready for spinning before Spring because I’d like to take some with me when we start exploring again. Talking of exploring we are planning on visiting the South East corner of England as soon as the rain eases. We’d both like to see Dover Castle and that seems a good enough reason for going there.
30 December and what a beautiful morning after the night before? There had been gale force winds overnight but they had blown themselves out by morning. It was lovely to see the sun again, it certainly lifted our spirits and we dashed off into the Peak District for a stroll along the River Derwent at Matlock. That reminds me I had a call from a mate who lives local and she realised that I hadn’t named the River in my last entry, thanks Margaret it’s nice to get constructive advice back and just confirms that it is difficult to write about your own area.

So the River is the Derbyshire Derwent, does anyone know how many River Derwent’s there are in this country? My mind has now wandered to the Derwent Dams holding back Ladybower, Derwent and Howden Reservoirs. This is one of the places where the Dambusters practised their low flying for the bombing of the Mohne and Eder dams in the last war. I think it was in 1990 when there was a memorial flight over the Dam commemorating the 45th anniversary of the raid and I remember Pat and I considering bunking off work to go and watch, but then we realised that there would be television cameras and knowing our luck we’d get caught. We did walk into the TV camera’s in Lincoln many years ago when we shouldn’t have been there but that‘s another story!

Back to life in the present, I am still on cloud nine after early retirement and Pat is still trying to come to terms with having me home all day, it’s great and I’m enjoying every minute. We are totally free agents now and can stand in a car park watching a Buzzard getting mobbed by crows, they are plucky birds, the Crows, it would be like me attacking an elephant - no thank you! We can go out in a rainstorm just looking for rainbows - we were driving through Darley Dale (Peak District again, we do love that area) and there was the most magnificent full rainbow I have ever seen. As usual the sky was lighter inside the rainbow ………………..at this point I was going to explain why? But I’ve just re read my junior weatherman’s book and it says ‘because the raindrops deflect light away from the observer’s eyes’ - I’m no wiser now! Still you don’t have to understand the science to be able to appreciate nature’s magic.

The rainbow travelled with us, the end moving across the fields and houses, now there would be some photographs to sell, your house with the end of the rainbow lighting it up in all it’s different colours!

Despite the last few days being very wet and miserable we have managed to get out every day, either for a short walk along a canal or to measure out aerial’s for High Frequency radio. We had success with today’s aerial, from the number of contacts point of view as well as getting the wire high off the ground. We have been practising throwing a lead weight with nylon cord attached over trees, so far we have left one lead weight plus 4 foot of cord in a tree in Brassington and some cord in a bush (a big bush) near Crich! If we’re not careful we’ll be accused of decorating the Derbyshire Dales with ribbons! Today I managed to throw the weight over a 30 ft tree and pull the aerial up to about 20ft. When I’m swinging the lead weight Pat makes sure he is safely in the van because nowhere and no one is safe! My arm and brain don’t seem to be able to communicate effectively and my fingers let go of the cord before the brain had sent the message. So far I have not had any major mishaps and as long as we always make sure we are at least 500 yds from the nearest greenhouse I should survive!

One of the contacts we had was down into Devon and we were pleased with the signal report because we are only using very low power, 5 watts when some of the other stations are using 100 watts and a lot are using up to 500 watts. Radio Amateurs like to get contacts all over the country and take details of the map references where the station is located. With this in mind we are hoping to transmit from all over the country and will get to know lots of people.

I’m back to my rug making now so even though we’re well past New Year, a happy and healthy 2007 to everyone.

The Matlocks

2006-12-21T20:34:00.000Z

I’ve set myself a challenge today, to make an entry about our local patch Matlock and Matlock Bath in the Peak District. It’s difficult to write about a place I’ve been visiting for the last 35 years, especially when I’ve only been looking and not seeing. Now I’m learning to look beneath the surface and find some of the history of places. ( It is now 3 days since I wrote the first line proving just how difficult I’m finding it!) The berries were photographed today, 21 December in the freezing fog.

Matlock itself is the home of Derbyshire County Council giving the town the title of County Town, (I always thought it was Derby, but apparently now it’s Derby City and they have their own council) anyway the County Council offices are housed in the old Spa buildings that John Smedley built in the 1850‘s. John Smedley was a local man who took over the family textile business and built several Churches and the folly known as Riber Castle. It’s a ruin now and since the zoo, housing endangered species closed, has stood empty. It’s a magnificent sight on the skyline.

The town is built on both sides of the River and has the same shops found everywhere else in the country. But one shop we enjoy visiting is ‘Reams’, they sell paper and anyone who knows me knows that I love paper, in notebook form, exercise book form, writing pad form, copying form, journal form, ring binder refills form in fact if you can write or draw on it I must have it! Pat always complains that every watercolour painting pad I have has at least the first three pages used and then I start a new one, well everyone has got to have one weakness! He loves the shop as well ‘cos he likes pencils and pens and paint brushes and watercolours etc etc.

The town park borders the river and has a bandstand and a skateboard park. How I envy the kids their skateboards, I was about 18 when they hit the street and as I was never any good on roller skates I didn’t think I stood a chance with skateboards. I did have a go, complete with crash hat, elbow and knee pads, got both feet on the board and the only reason it moved was because I was on a hill, a very small hill. I didn’t fall off and didn’t break anything but I’d still like to be able to do it.

There’s a boating lake for kids at the far end and last week we stood in the rain watching two pairs of Mallard having an argument over the garden fence. A board has been placed across a narrow part of the lake (to presumably stop the boats getting out of sight of the commandant) and the birds were squared up to each other one pair either side. It was the males doing all the shouting (how unusual!) and it got quite heated. Eventually Mr Drake on the left side jumped over and got his neighbour in a vice like grip around the neck and tried to drown him. The neighbour was ready for him and gave a mighty shudder breaking the hold on his neck and turned in a flash on Mr Drake. He pecked and gouged and lunged at which Mr Drake took flight and landed with a splash on his own side of the board, shook his ruffled feathers and proceeded to lead his lady away. The victor casually turned to his lady with a proud glint in his eye.

Travelling South down the valley the road hugs the riverbank and is separated only by a wall and footpath. On this stretch of river there is canoe slalom course. The slalom gates are permanently in place and we’ve seen kids practising in the rapids, it can be quite spectacular, especially in the winter evenings when the floodlights are used.

Still further along the river is Matlock Bath built in a steep sided gorge. It was founded in the 17th century when the thermal springs were utilised as healing baths. The toffs of the day (including Queen Victoria) started visiting for the healing qualities of the warm water and the town grew. The main road has the river one side with gulls and ducks that need feeding with the fish and chips you have bought on the other side of the road. The shops are the usual touristy ones, fancy goods, food and amusement arcades. In summer with the crowds of holidaymakers it feels like a seaside town and the path beside the river is known as the Promenade.

The steep hill behind the shops is littered with houses and narrow steep streets which lead to the Heights Abraham . Many years ago we walked up to the Heights, an area of woodland paths and caverns. The caverns were mined for lead for thousands of years. It’s a much easier climb today because the first Alpine styled cable car was installed in 1984 and I remember worrying Pat like a terrier until we made the trip. At the time it was fantastic, the first time I had ever been on a cable car of any kind. The views are wonderful and have been compared to those found in Switzerland.

Matlock and Matlock Bath are in an area of the Peak District known as the White Peak because the underlying rock is Limestone. As the water leeches through the rock and drains into the Derwent it collects diluted limestone and then deposits it on anything in it’s path. There is a display of ordinary household items left in a constant spray of this water in the aquarium. I remember seeing shoes and bowler hats all solid stone, originally in a small, round purpose built hut called ‘The Petrifying Well’ and new items were regularly added.

Every September Matlock Bath puts on a magical show of lights. The Venetian Nights illuminations were originally held for Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee and as far as I can find out have been held every year since. Originally, fairy lanterns were strung in the trees along the river and boats decorated with candles drifted downstream on the current. Today they use pretty coloured bulbs and fancy light displays in the trees and on the bridges. The boats must look splendid as they float gently down the dark river. We have never visited the actual illuminations, Pat, myself and crowds are a sure recipe for headaches!

There is a footbridge over the river leading to a riverside walk downstream to a second footbridge (Jubilee bridge) that crosses back to the riverside gardens. Full use of the springs have been made here with ornamental ponds, fountains and waterfalls which flow from the hillside.
The gorge side of the river is very steep but still has footpaths winding to the top which lead over and back down to Matlock, a lovely walk at anytime of the year. In spring the wooded hillside is full of Bluebells, Violets, Primroses and other early Spring growth. It’s a good climb and we enjoy the walk.

On a clear winter’s evening the walk along the river down to Jubilee Bridge and back is quite spectacular with the lights reflected in the running water making beautiful psychedelic patterns on the surface. The river can look black and foreboding and in misty conditions takes on quite a menacing air.

Yesterday I found a journal I started in November 2002 ready for when we got our new van and I made 5 entries before I got fed up! I wonder at the state of my mind at the time ‘cos I made the following entry:

‘We decided to start training for Orkney today and walked along the Cromford Canal (just downstream of Matlock Bath). It’s a lovely sight this time of year, black water, still as a mirror reflecting the bare trees, the sky and any leaves left, in perfect detail and glorious technicolour. We came across 4 Dabchicks (Little Grebes) and I still can’t make up my mind whether the 3 females were falling out over the male or whether they were playing underwater tag, whichever, there was a lot of laughing or was it screaming going off!
At this point all the wildlife within a 100 mile radius dived for cover, the most dreadful of all apparitions, for the walker, arrived, oh yes you’ve guessed it….a school party and on a Saturday! We stood still concentrating on our Dabchicks and from some of the comments we heard they didn’t see them ‘What are they looking at?’ ‘Can you see anything?’, it’s a shame the teachers didn’t explain anything but perhaps they didn’t know.
Further along the towpath we had to go into reverse ’cos they’d stopped, as we quietly crept past I heard ‘If you’ve got a piece of fruit you can eat it now’ what do the ones without fruit do, go hungry?. Perhaps they weren’t a school party after all, perhaps they were in training for some unknown journey that would test their endurance and how long they could live on fruit, perhaps they were bats in disguise, perhaps I’m getting carried away, perhaps I ought to be carried away!’

Well, I didn’t get carried away and I’m still here to prove it and enjoying every minute of my freedom.

Oh an update on the Miss Piggy situation, We called in at the Threshing Barn yesterday and as you know I couldn’t bring myself to buy any sausages from them on our last visit. This time we were introduced to her replacement, the latest additions to the farm, five gorgeous, golden brown Tamworth piglets, I’m not going to even think about where they’ll end up!

We have not managed to get a photograph of Matlock because of inclement weather, rain, too dull and thick fog but we walked along a local stretch of canal and the photo's show the current cold snap very well.

Whitby

2006-12-07T21:21:00.000Z

I didn’t realise that it was so long since my last entry, doesn’t time fly when… well you know the rest of that saying.

It was a bright, sunny day on 26 November and we spent the afternoon in The Peak District. I was cloud watching which was very easy ‘cos it was blue skies! I didn’t see any Cumulus forming over warm spots, how do you get warm spots this time of year? But I did find some Cumulus Humilis on the horizon. These are flattened cumulus due to inversion, warm air rising forming the clouds and cold air sinking flattening the top of the cloud, at least that’s how I interpreted my junior weatherman’s book.

We visited Dave, in the evening, a Radio Amateur and talked aerials. Could be a boring subject I know but it’s quite complicated, if the antenna is not tuned to the radio frequency when you press the microphone the power you send out into the ether reaches the antenna, which promptly sends it straight back into your radio blowing all it’s internal organs apart and hey presto you are the proud owner of a box full of melted unrecognisable components! Hopefully this will not happen to our little radio. Our next project is to cut measured lengths of wire to use on the high frequency bands and end up with a back garden looking like Rugby transmitting station!

We got fed up waiting for the weather to clear up and decided to ignore it and hit the East coast anyway. We took the route through Pickering and over the moors to Whitby. We love the moors and even at this time of the year they are so colourful, all shades of brown from a deep burnt umber through burnt sienna to a beautiful light raw sienna. The mixture makes a lovely beckoning landscape and I always want to get out and walk amongst it.

It was getting late so we looked for a place to camp and ended up in The North Riding Forest at SE964944. A beautiful spot sheltered by trees but with a beautiful view over the valley. In the morning I stood enjoying the view in the dawn light and could hear Rooks calling. Nothing unusual in that but the sound was coming from about 150ft down in the valley below me. There was a small copse to far away for me to see any birds but the noise reminded me of Spring. Perhaps global warming is effecting the birds as well as the plants.

Next morning we trundled into Whitby and had breakfast at the Royal (actually we were parked outside!) this is the Hotel that Bram Stoker stayed in when he was getting inspiration for Dracula. Earlier this year we visited Slains Castle north of Aberdeen which is said to have been his inspiration for Dracula’s castle and now we were in Whitby, the inspiration for the setting of the novel. Whitby is a pretty inspiring place, built on the River Esk with cliffs climbing to 100ft both East and West of the town.

On the East cliff there are the ruins of the Abbey which Bram saw from the deck of the sailing ship as they approached the harbour.

On the West cliff there is an archway made from the jaw bones of a whale and you pass through them when following the footpath down into the town. These are to commemorate the Whaling industry in Whitby which was a source of employment from 1753 to 1833. Whaling was a dangerous profession with many men killed during these trips and when the returning ships were expected, a lookout would scan the horizon for the masts to appear, if a pair of whalebones were strung up to the masts, waiting wives of Whitby knew there was a full ship. That’s fine but if a mast was spotted with no whalebones, all the wives must have been worried sick waiting to find out if they were the widow.

Looking over the town from this vantage point you see a jumble of red pan tile roofs, a very distinctive view of the town.

The wind was just as strong down in town as on the cliff top and there was no escape from it. Trying to shelter on the leeward side of buildings proved to be useless ‘cos the wind just came over the top and down on your head, it was really impossible. We warmed up in the bookshop, one of the few shops open before 10 am and as the clock struck ten I crept out and up to a little church which is now a wool shop. As I was sneaking up the steps and through the door he caught me and insisted that both hands were kept firmly in pockets. It’s a beautiful Aladdin’s cave of yarn and ideas. Shawls made from a variety of shades and fancy yarns are sold made up or in kit form, £98 and £56 respectively and they sell denim wool which looks super when knitted into cardies. I had to walk right around the shop and was desperately tempted but you need a project before buying here or else you just end up with a skein of each and not enough of anything to make a garment. As it was, Pat managed to get out with his wallet intact!

Back on the street we passed a few Goths, and I’ve done some research on this description. It was used as early as 1530 but was used as a derogatory title, a bit like the word vandal today. It’s associated with the dark side (Darth Vader could have been a Goth!) but today it seems to have taken on a cult image and the Goths that visit Whitby on ‘Goth weekends’ are all happy and enjoying themselves and even though they dress in black they have brightly coloured hair and accessories. Whitby full of Goths is definitely a sight worth seeing. They’ve turned the original definition of the word completely on it’s head.

Walking back to the harbour a full size replica of the Grand Turk stands tall and proud. It’s an 18 century Man-o-War of the type used in the Battle of Trafalgar and has made Whitby it’s permanent home.

I have stood and watched young lassies climb the rigging to unfurl the ‘open’ banner, it’s something I’d love to have a go at but as I get vertigo when Pat stands too close to a 20ft drop I don’t think much to my chances.

We pulled in at Sandsend, a couple of miles North of Whitby and went for a walk along the beach. It was still very windy and tough walking on a sandy surface into a head wind. The dry sand was shimmering along the surface of the beach reminiscent of a swirling mass of Starlings. It’s a lovely beach long and wide with enough pebbles to keep me happy for a month or two and while his back was turned I managed to fill my pockets.
We both remembered a visit in Summer last year when we met up with Lyn and Simon, the weather was much better then! Lyn and I took off on pushbikes while Simon and Pat went Kapping along the beach. It was a great weekend.

Back in the van getting warm we calculated that the wind was hitting the surface of the sea at about 30 mph, you could actually see it race along the top of the water, it was blowing from land, down the Cliffside hitting the water before racing off towards Holland.

We’d never explored the coast North of Staithes and as it was cold, windy and midweek, with few people around it seemed like a good plan. So Flossie (GPS) was programmed to take us by the shortest route to Redcar. Mistake number 1. She landed us in the middle of a housing estate. Mistake number 2. I insisted on finding the beach. Mistake number 3. Pat took me to the beach. It was dull, lifeless, flat, boring and closed. It is probably quite good for kids on a warm summer day but Skegness as I remember it is better!

We checked out Saltburn by the Sea which has free parking this time of year, something in it’s favour. The pier is about 600 metres long and has had a rough life. It was built by the Victorians and was originally over 1200 metres long with a grand pier head with amusements at the end. It was damaged in a storm in which the pier head was lost and left to rot. It was renovated minus the pier head before being damaged in another ferocious storm and again left to rot. Finally in the last century it was renovated again to its current shorter length and is at present being well maintained. You can take a stroll to the end of the pier and fish from it.
We didn’t climb up to the town centre but walked a little way along the front. It felt like we were walking through the movie set of a ghost town all the little shop fronts with galvanised steel shutters and paper blowing along the prom, not a pretty sight on a blustery winter’s day.

Back at base and looking over the map there is one more place to visit, Warset Hill at 600 metres is one of the high spots of the area. There is also a mining museum close by and I should like to visit that. Earlier this year we had visited the mining museum at Blaenavon near Abergavenny in Wales and it was really good. The guides were all ex miners from that area and they knew what it was really like and could describe it in a way no other could. We went down the mine in a proper cage and were treated to some ‘miner’s banter’ and the walk through the mine was smashing, looking for different minerals in the rock walls and roofs and seeing the stables where ponies were kept. If you’re ever in that area I can recommend a visit to ‘Deep Mine’. Oh and it’s all free!

Only a short trip this time and back at home Pat was taking clothing out of the van when he picked up my coat and found out just how many pebbles I had managed to secrete into my pockets! He thought he’d broken his arm when it suddenly gave way. I got on with some weaving and knitting and trying my hand at designing some Fimo (clay) jewellery but failed miserably!

I have made some earrings using Swarovski beads which are very attractive and despite all the lovely colours available the clear beads are still my favourite.

Yesterday we took some of my knitted scarves to The Threshing Barn, a shop near Leek and found Miss Piggy’s sty was empty. That lovely soft hearted pig that we met on our last visit, who only wanted her head scratched is now residing in small packets in the fridge - yes sausages! I shall think of her every time I spear a sausage.

We’re trying to be patient and waiting for a settled spell of weather in the West because I am really looking forward to spending some time on Anglesey. I want to savour the feeling again of not having to get home for a set date.

The Peak District still beckons but the ground is so wet we daren’t put one wheel on the grass never mind all four. The ruts on the grass verges are so deep that if we fell into one we’d be grounded. Here’s hoping for some high pressure weather soon.

Local Beauty Spots

2006-11-26T10:36:00.000Z

We’re getting worried now that we might take root! We’re still at home, keeping very busy but somehow the great outdoors is beckoning. The only trouble is the weather forecasts are horrendous and the gale force winds that we have been threatened with would certainly make the van uncomfortable. We have been listening to the ‘Barometric net’ on the radio, a gang of radio amateurs that meet every morning on the airwaves. They call in from all over Britain and when the conditions are good Germans and Dutch amateurs join in. Anyway this week they all agreed that none of them had seen the barometric pressure as low since the great storm in the eighties that took out 6 of the Oaks in Sevenoaks, Kent and so we have been waiting for the hurricane! We have both used the waiting time to our advantage, Pat has been reconstructing the Amateur Radio station and in between helping him I have been crafting. I hope to have some nice things for sale for Christmas.

Over the last few days we have managed to visit some of the beautiful places on our doorstep, to the East we have Sherwood Forest. An area of deciduous woodland that has some of the oldest Oak trees in the country. The most famous of these is the Major Oak which is 800 years old and 33 ft around it’s trunk with branches spreading out 92 feet. It has had a lot of care over the years and the last time I visited it, the branches were propped up with telegraph poles and I felt sad because it’s not going to be allowed to die gracefully and disappear back into the earth, it will be held together with chains and any rotten bits cut out and replaced with fibre glass which will be painted to match the trunk colouring, in fact it will be more plastic than wood - a sad future for any living thing.

The woodland though is especially pretty this time of year and as we drove through the Autumn colours were splendid. The Oak turns from green through yellow to a dusky brown. Sometimes showing all shades in between but eventually all the leaves end up the one colour. The trunks and branches show up stark black through the thinning leaves and the whole scene is sharp and beautiful. The woodland floor is covered with leaves of all colours, the bright yellow maple, the scarlet Sycamore and who can say that they don’t find the bronzed Beech delightful.

We have also travelled West from home to The Peak District. This is an outstanding area and was the earliest National Park in the country when it was designated in 1951. The park is divided into the Dark Peak, an area of Gritstone and the White Peak which is mostly Limestone. We parked up at Longstone Edge in the White Peak. The views from here are magnificent down over the valley.

We had a Bill Oddie experience here when a flock of Starlings appeared and landed in the field quite close to us. We estimate that there were 5000 birds, possibly more and they kept flitting around each other so that there was constant movement in the air and on the ground. A small puddle of rainwater became their very own Jacuzzi and so much water was thrown in the air that the birds bathing disappeared in a brown mist. Suddenly they all took off as one and swept around the sky in front of us. We couldn’t make out any definite shapes but I classed this as another Dragon moment. The van was surrounded by a swirling mass of wings - ever seen Hitchcock’s terrifying film ‘The Birds’? well it was nothing like that, this was a great experience and just for a second we were a part of the flock!

The gentle hills of the Peak District with it’s small villages are excellent for walkers and there are rivers with clear, sparkling water running through the valleys. Trout fishing is very private with clubs from far and wide owning the fishing rights. Footpaths are prolific and interesting because as you follow them they twist and turn and you are constantly getting new views either around the corner or as you top the crest of a hill. We love the Peak District at all times of the year but Autumn is especially colourful because there are a lot trees planted in the grounds of the great houses like Chatsworth and Haddon Hall especially for their colourful foliage.

As you stand and look upon a wooded hillside it’s possible to pick out the Larch, the only conifer to shed it’s needles, the Silver Birch with their white trunks that look as though someone has scratched the colour off the canvas and the Sycamore, yellow through to red, a photograph just does not do it justice.
We spend a lot of time in the Peak when at home so I’ll check up the history of this most beautiful area that is literally on our doorstep. We both know how lucky we are to be so close to the second most visited National Park in the world.

Chit-chat

2006-11-20T18:08:00.000Z

It was 13 November and I had been reading my junior weatherman’s book and to my surprise I found a phenomenon! In the distance I could see fanned out sunbeams streaming down to earth through holes in the cumulus clouds. The scene before me actually matched the picture in my book, I’d cracked it now all I had to do was find out what sort of phenomenon I was looking at. The sun, 93 million miles away, shines down through holes in an upper layer of clouds and bounces off the top of the lower layer of clouds, with me so far? OK. The sunlight reflected back towards the upper layer of clouds then reflects back down through the holes in the lower layer of cloud showing up as those beautiful rays of sunshine that make you feel all good and warm if you happen to be directly underneath one. Next phenomenon to look out for is Noctilucent clouds! They appear in the middle of the night in the North at midsummer and what better place than Orkney to look for them! Watch this space.

I met a couple of friends I used to work with and we had a good old fashioned natter and generally put the world to rights and that afternoon Pat and I sat and watched a Grey Squirrel hunt through our garden for some food. He even came and looked through the Patio window and tried that mind trick on us , the one where they look all hungry and pitiful and you’ve just got to give them the last piece of your favourite cake! Only trouble was we’d already eaten it and so the poor Squirrel got none!

Over the last few days I have been weaving and knitting trying to get some bags and scarves ready for Christmas - if anyone would like to see some, leave me a comment and I’ll post some pictures, and Pat has been researching the Amateur Radio regulations. Bharat in Felixstowe rekindled our interest and we are now the proud owners of re-activated Radio Licences and can transmit again. Look out amateurs everywhere, we’re back!

We spent a couple of hours with Roger at our local amateur radio shop (free coffee and it’s warm and friendly inside) learning all about the new equipment that has come onto the market in the last 8 years and boy have we got our work cut out for us now. We’re going to have to swot up on antennas and regulations and all such manner of things and….. on top of that I think I’m going to have a go at learning the Morse code. We don’t have to now but I’ve always fancied being able to listen to it and know what’s being said. It’s going to be a hectic winter here, we’re already getting the TT’s (technology tantrums).

On a lighter note I found a spider in the bath yesterday and decided to leave him in the warm and persuaded him to climb out of the bath by using the hand towel hung over the side. He immediately walked around the rim of the bath and fell back in again.. Thinking of Robert the Bruce I got him on to the floor using the towel again and he crouched against the side of the bath trying to make himself small and invisible. I knew he’d get squashed there so I prodded him in the back to encourage him to go behind the bath panel. The nearer he got to the dark corner the slower he walked and despite my prodding he would not go into the dark hole. I think we’ve got the only spider that’s afraid of the dark!

We’re hoping to be able to get back on the road next week. We seem to have been at home forever and we’re both getting itchy feet. We need the sea!!!

At home

2006-11-12T20:45:00.000Z

I’ve finished a few Tote bags and dropped them off with a mate, hopefully her friend in Scotland will like them. It was lovely to see all my old friends at the office again, I do miss the comaradery we had but I’m still not missing the work. I keep remembering that I am now retired and I get butterflies in my stomach and a huge grin appears as if by magic. It certainly doesn’t feel like 9 weeks since I last went to work.

We visited Susan (Sister in Law) last night and we met ‘Carn’ a Royal Python. He’s about 4 months old and about 2 ft long and I couldn’t wait to have him slithering up my arm. Karl, our common law nephew in law, bought him as a baby and he lives (Carn not Karl) in a glass vivarium in the corner of the bedroom. It was a definite first for me, I had never touched a snake nor had I seen one close up. It certainly wasn’t slippery but his skin was very cool (the snake not Karl!) and as he wrapped himself around my wrist I thought what a lovely piece of jewellery. Now there’s a thought, it would certainly clear the aisles in the supermarket if you went in brandishing that as a bracelet!

He slowly slithered up my arm to investigate all the time flicking his tongue out, testing the air. He is still very nervous and if someone makes a sudden move he tightens his grip and flinches. It’s funny but I’d never thought that a snake could be twitchy and nervous.

I was lucky because it was his weekly dinnertime, yes girls he only gets one meal a week and tonight it was mouse. I think you buy them frozen in packs of three from the snake market, buy one and get one free. At the rate of one a week they’d last ages.

I was amazed at how quick he struck, at first he just seemed to test it with his tongue and after what seemed like an age he struck so quickly you couldn’t see it. He wrapped his upper body around the poor dead thing and proceeded to squeeze. Eventually he must have decided that it was dead and he ate it, well he swallowed it whole really. It must have been tiring because Carn spent the next few minutes yawning, probably putting his jaw back together but each time his mouth opened you could see all his tiny needle like teeth. So perfect and small but I would imagine they could do some damage. It reminded me of the BBC production ‘Making of the Dinosaurs’ he looked just like one of the baby dino’s that were running around the producer’s desk and knocking his pens over. I was fascinated and chuffed to bits to have fulfilled yet another dragon moment.

This brings to mind a promise I made to Sylvia, a photograph of Midge the Scottish Burmese kitten, so here’s one of us going for an early morning walk around the garden.

This morning looked like just being an ordinary Sunday, until we checked the Emails that is. There was one from Bombay, yep Bharat has written to us, he’s suffering in the heat and humidity while we’re suffering in the cold and damp! I do like to get Emails from anyone, it’s a great way to chat and now we’re a pair of pensioners we don’t have to spend out on stamps!!!

We decided to check out our local fishing pond at Somercotes and found two fishermen there. They were catching small Bream, beautiful silver fish with perfect scales. As one said to us he was having a restful day and enjoying himself. The pond is surrounded by trees and the Autumn colours were some of the best we have seen. Perhaps it was the sunshine sparkling on the water or the reflections of the gold and yellow leaves in the water but the whole scene was one of peace and beauty, surprising to think that it can be found in the middle of an industrial estate.

From there we moved onto Ogston Reservoir, our old Bird watching haunt. The yachts were using the middle of the res. and the geese and ducks had taken up resident at the edges, nice and handy. We saw Canada Geese and Mallard the usual all year ones, and Pochard and Teal had arrived for the winter. At the Brackenfield end there was a flock of Tufted Duck and mixed in with them were 3 Goldeneye. The male has a black green-glossed head with a white spot just under his eye. His back is black but there are white stripes across the folded wing, an exquisite pattern and perfection at it’s best.

We saw a flock of over 100 Lapwings, sometimes called Peewit after the sound of their call, a wonderful but sad sight because flocks used to be 1000 plus. Let’s hope that numbers will gradually increase.

Walking slowly back to the van I noticed that the apple trees by the reservoir were still growing nicely and producing big red, shiny apples. I thought of my mate Steph who had been scrumping last week and after a quick look left and right I was over the wall before Pat had time to sing the National Anthem. I managed to get a carrier bag (I always have one in my pocket for these occasions) full before he found a threat that made me climb back to roadside. I’m thinking of starting the ’Granny apple scrumping Club’ .

Back home I made an apple pie, one of the few things I can cook that is recognisable and eatable, we had some for tea and at the moment we are not suffering any after effects. I’m going back to weaving a yellow scarf now before starting a new shoulder bag.

Archaeology and campanology

2006-11-06T20:59:00.000Z

We had our first frost of the season on Thursday and we had been as warm as toast thanks to our tubular heater.

It was a beautiful morning bright sunshine and blue skies but very cold. I had read about some old Thames barges which sounded interesting. They have an array of sails on two masts and look quite distinguished when sailing in open water.

We started our day at Heybridge Quay on the River Blackwater. As it was so sunny and windy we took the kites. The majority of the boats moored were modern fibreglass but further along the flood bank we found some rotting hulls sitting sadly in the mud. The tide was out and we looked upon archaeology in the making. When you see a rotted hulk half buried in the mud, the programs you see with little flags stuck all over the dig area suddenly make some sort of sense but I still find it difficult to imagine that in a thousand or so years the piece of ground I’m standing on could be 20 or 30 ft below the ground surface or 200 ft below the water.

The area around here was all mud but we did have a dragon moment, well over 1000 Brent Geese flew overhead in typical V formation all chatting to each other with their garrulous calls.

We stirred up some interest with the kite and camera and met Bob. Bob worked for the Local Authority and had taken a few hours off work because his dog was poorly. The dog was enjoying the walk and looked much better (according to Bob). Bob turned out to be a very knowledgeable chap on a lot of different subjects. He was a keen photographer and historian. We were both out of our depth but managed to keep the conversation flowing especially when it turned to Leonardo daVinci, apparently his ideas on flight and canal locks were originally written down by a Roman years earlier but unfortunately I’ve already forgotten his name! (We still prefer to believe Leonardo was the smart one) I now have a note of a title and the author of a book that should help me with my understanding of The Dark Ages.

We moved on to Maldon and found what we were looking for, the Thames Barges. They were magnificent creatures and a lot bigger than I thought. Unfortunately they were moored top to tail 3 deep and un-photographable because the scene was too busy and complicated. One of the barges had been renovated to hold functions and from the photo it looked like there was a ballroom inside.

It was still a beautiful day and I had found out about a Chapel built in AD654 that had re-used some Roman bricks and stone in it’s construction. So off we went to Bradwell by the Sea. The chapel was dedicated to St Peter and had been built at the site of a Roman Fortress called ‘Othona’. The fortress was abandoned about AD410 when the Romans left Britain.
The building is now just a single rectangular room with a concrete outline showing where the Curved Apse at the East End of the Chapel once stood. Inside it is bare except for an altar on which visitors have left gifts of sea shells collected from the nearby shore.

There are 3 stones embedded in the altar all gifts from other well known sites. The left stone from Iona, where the Celtic mission arrived from Ireland, the middle from Lindisfarne where St Cedd trained and the last from Lastingham where St Cedd built his Northern monastery.
St Cedd who built the Chapel came from Northumbria as a missionary to the East Anglians and the chapel is one of the oldest places of worship in the country.

The sun was now very low in the sky making for a difficult drive back to the campsite. It was a beautiful evening clear and crisp with a promise of more frost. The moon lit up the whole field, it’s just a shame that we were parked under the site’s only amber streetlight!

The next morning it was cold and white over but the sun shone out of a cloudless blue sky, we have been extremely lucky with the weather over the last 8 weeks. As we travelled northwards we passed through East Bergholt, a small Suffolk village. The church caught our eye and we stopped to have a wander around. As I went on my obligatory walk around the outside of the Church I noticed that the tower was missing which I found out later had never been built, started yes finished no. It was started in 1525 and work stopped on it in 1530 due to lack of funds.

In the churchyard was a small building with slatted walls, it turned out to be a Bell Cage built in 1531 as a temporary measure how long is temporary?

Neither Pat nor I had ever heard about one never mind seen one. We stuck our noses in between the wooden slats and found 5 huge church bells all upside down within a framework of wood.

On further investigation we noticed that the framework was set with a gap below the bells big enough to enable them to be swung around their axis. We knew that bells in a tower were attached to a large wheel that took up slack rope when being rung but we couldn’t work out how these bells worked. They were still rung every Sunday for 30 minutes during the summer months.

We eventually found out on the web. They are hand rung by pushing the wooden stay attached to the bell, the bell swings down and up and the bell ringer then pushes on the stay returning the bell to it’s original position. As each bell weighs about the same as a small motorcar the force used must be enough to make sure the bell swings back into the upright position but not too much or it could bounce off it’s stay and end up hanging down. We would have loved to have seen the bells being rung but sadly they had stopped for the winter.

At Woodbridge our river walk was downstream this time and we found some more homes on the water. One of them was a converted Thames Barge, larger than the canal narrow boat and I would have loved a conducted tour but there was no one about to chat up!

One obviously occupied house boat had a massive tarpaulin strung over the living quarters, presumably the roof leaked and either he was waiting for spare parts or he couldn’t afford to fix it. We hoped he’d get some sort of repair before winter sets in.

We took a nice leisurely drive down the country lanes to Bawdsey Quay for the night. It was the 3rd of November and we were treated to several firework displays from across the river. Why oh why can’t bonfire night be on November 5th like it was when I was young?

Before darkness fell we walked along the shingle bank towards the sea and stopped for a chat with a fisherman. I had a close up view of the rod and rod tripod. Now we can understand why the fish don’t run off with the rod, there is a tube into which the end of the rod fits stopping it from being snatched off the tripod and down the beach. He was hoping to catch Whiting here but had a feeling that he would be eating his chips on their own tomorrow night. He told us about a fisherman who was swept away during the weekend storms. There were two fishing side by side and a rogue wave got one of them, a local and member of the life boat crew.

Next day was bright, clear and beautiful but it’s getting colder and I couldn't resist taking this photo. The one and only cloud in the sky had a message for the weathermen!

We visited Framlingham Castle but were unable to fly the kite because of the Caravan Club Rally in the Castle field. We drove onto the field and met the Rally Manager. He didn’t seem to want us to stay and looked mightily relieved when we went to park over the road.

Framlingham Castle dates from 12 century and was designed as a symbol of power. Over the years it has been used by Mary Tudor who mustered her supporters here in 1553 before being crowned Queen, a prison at the end of the 16th century and later on a poorhouse and school were built in the grounds.

From Framlingham we went to Aldburgh and parked on the sea wall just generally taking in the view and atmosphere. We took a walk along the shingle and we managed to find 12 more hag stones, I’ll have every one off that beach yet!

Back at the van we sat and watched a Whale basking in the sun on the horizon and after 10 minutes we got the binoculars out whereupon it miraculously took on the shape of an old oil drum. We thought it was kind of slow and spending a long time on the surface.

Suddenly there was knock on the door and Maurice introduced himself. He fetched his wife Sheila from the shore and we spent the afternoon discussing Romahomes. They have a C15 and love it but haven’t yet spent a night away. They hope to have a night or two at Aldburgh soon. They love this coast and admitted that at one time they always went to Clacton but now they spend some of their days here on the sea wall.

As dusk fell more and more fishermen arrived with their storm lanterns and spread themselves out all along the beach. After dark we looked out and it was like party lanterns strung out in a long line as far as we could see in both directions. The moon was close to full and shining out from the East straight onto the sea lighting the whole scene.

We left Aldburgh in full sunshine and took a roundabout route to Thetford Forest. The countryside was gentle and as we travelled further North we noticed a subtle change in the Autumn colours. Mostly it was the Beech trees that gave the beautiful copper and yellow but occasionally there was a member of the Acer family with bright yellow leaves.

We had a lazy day and eventually found somewhere to camp in the forest. It was a small clearing and early the next morning I walked straight into a Muntjac Deer. They are small for deer and you could mistake them for dogs but they are very quick and this one shot off into the woodland. I walked slowly for a few yards and found it had stopped about 50 ft away and was studying me. I gave him a friendly smile but it didn’t do any good it still ran off in the opposite direction.

We sat and watched 4 squirrels feeding in the fallen beech leaves perhaps they were eating beech mast and we had a flock of Chaffinches drinking in a puddle 10 ft away from the van.

On the way home we stopped at Weeting Castle, it’s just a shell now but has a dry moat that surrounds it and an Ice house. The ice hole is brick built and a has a domed floor as well as a domed roof. Part of it is below ground and the whole structure is then covered with earth leaving just the entrance open. Ice could be kept here all through the summer and they were always built at a slight distance from the main habitation.

We’re home again now and have a few very busy days. I have to sort out some handbags for a friend and get some spinning done in order to weave some new bags and scarves. Pat has a list of additions and modifications for the van. I wonder where we can go tomorrow if the sun shines.

Clacton

2006-11-01T22:06:00.000Z

Monday morning was beautiful but cold. We stopped off at Ramsholt Quay on the River Deben. There is a Pub and an old Quay and you’re not allowed to park unless you are patronising the pub. Apart from the fact that we don’t like alcohol it was only 8.30 a.m.

So we walked down the hill and found a bevy of butterflies, Red Admirals and they were magnificent. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any as perfect and fresh. There were about 10 all basking in the early morning sunshine and we think they were this year’s young getting ready to migrate to the continent. They were too quick for me to get a photo.

Down by the water we decided the pub in it’s waterside setting with the backdrop of wooded hillside would be a nice Kite Aerial Photography subject. It was very cold in the wind but we managed to get some nice pictures. The dog that was sat in the middle of the road and totally ignored us suddenly came to life as we were pulling the kite down. It wasn’t for us though, his friend the Yachting club ranger arrived. We got talking and learnt that the wildlife here was good, there were geese and Little Egret’s outnumbered Herons here. That explains why the one at Woodbridge was ignored.

We moved on to Landguard Fort at Felixtowe, an English Heritage building only to find out that it closed for winter - yesterday! Is this a ploy to get us to come back? Lost and lonely in a strange town we telephoned and arranged to visit Bharat and spent a lovely afternoon chatting. It’s amazing how much in common we all have. We’re all Radio Amateurs, we love the outdoors, we love mountains and walking and so it went on. Airplanes came high on the list for both Bharat and Pat and even I could join in the conversation having had a go in a light aircraft. I flew it from Nottingham Airport (Tollerton) to Belvoir Castle and back again, great fun, but Ken wouldn’t let me land it, values his future too much!

When it came time to leave we had been given a couple of lightweight Indian cotton towels for the van and a model of a Lancaster bomber which now has pride of place on the dash.

It was a wonderful experience for all of us and I believe we will keep in touch.

That night it was first quarter moon and it cast lovely silvery light on the water of the estuary as it wove it’s nightly path through the clouds.

Next morning we took Bharat’s advice and visited Kersey, it must be the most beautiful village in Suffolk and perhaps in England.

It is quite small and from the church you can see the whole village below you, all the rooftops, tiled and thatched, surrounded by the gently undulating fields. Real hedges separate the fields and small copses of trees dot the countryside. The whole scene is one of charm and tranquillity.

We didn’t count them but I think 90% of the Main Street has thatched houses and dates from the 14th century. Many of the upper stories of the houses extended beyond the lower floors, most were of wooden beam construction with lathe and plaster infill and each one carefully preserved and looked after. The whole scene with the village ford flowing across cobbles is totally idyllic.

The cars and overhead cables were the only two things that kept you rooted firmly in the 20 century. Thanks Bharat, it is truly a gem and a dragon moment.

Lavenham was the same but larger. The houses in the centre were again about 14 century and even more crooked than Kersey. The angles of the walls defied gravity and it was difficult not to photograph each and every one. They had beautiful names like Honeysuckle Cottage and one in particular made me think of Kenneth Williams in the ‘Round the Horn’ radio series - Cordwainer, OK so his was a Cordwangle but it’s near enough. My favourite has got to be ‘Tickled Pink’. The sign was a maid lying on a couch showing off her garters and there was also a plaque on the wall with a pair of bare feet and a feather.

The Guildhall is a huge building and looks a bit anaemic because they seem to have whitewashed all the wooden beams as well as the plaster. It has a connection with Corpus Christi and like a lot of us, we only know about this from the ‘Davinci Code’ but we didn’t manage to do the tour this time.

The Main Street was wide here and we passed what was once an old coaching Inn and just marvelled at the old beams still holding the rooms above the entrance to the courtyard.

As we drove out of Lavenham the streets held more of these buildings and I felt that I wanted to get out and walk past all of the houses it was almost as though we had stepped back in time.

It was decision time and I decided that I wanted to go to Clacton on Sea. I know, I know Pat said the same thing but I’ve never been and so Clacton was where we went and I am now satisfied that I will never want to go again. A lot of the coast around this part is quite muddy and all the towns have to be protected by a sea wall. We think this part took a hit in the 1952 floods that devastated this coast up to Lincolnshire and the wash.
Point Clear looked (on the map) like it was a dead end country lane and we faithfully followed the road, bumps , potholes and all and kept as close to the sea as possible. At one point we had a 4 ½ ft high seawall on our left and a motley mess of chalet bungalows on our right, the sort that are built on a wooden frame so that they have a space under the floorboards. I know this because several along this stretch had been dismantled leaving only the wooden frame standing proud of the earth.
The whole place made me think of a shanty town, they were built very close together and it felt claustrophobic, gardens were small or non
existent. Some looked very neglected and uncared for and the streets were all parallel. It felt like and old caravan park where individuals had done their own thing without interference from planning. I’m afraid we couldn’t wait to get out.

We camped that night under a waxing moon by the side of a lovely lake. The fish were feeding in the silvery light of the moon that bounced off the water like shattered crystals and we had no fishing rods!

It was Halloween, the start of the Wiccan year when the veil between the worlds is very thin but we heard nothing and spent a very peaceful night.
Next morning was very cold with bright sunshine and a clear blue sky. As we sat and ate breakfast we watched a family of pheasants wander along the bank of the lake just like a school class on a nature ramble, walk a little way and then stop to examine the flowers and insects and then carry on to the next interesting point.

Mersea Island was on our list this morning. The island is joined to the mainland by ’The Strood’ a causeway that can sometimes be flooded at high tide. The North of the island is arable farming and the Southern side has beaches with sand and shingle. The beach is lined with a double row of beach huts all numbered and painted those ghastly reds, blues and greens. We passed through between numbers 525 and 526 and were probably about halfway along the line. The beach was great because there were all sorts of shells and we found Oyster shells like we’ve never seen before. They were all curly and wavy, different sizes and depths. I just had to fill my pocket with them, well I don’t think we’ll ever come back to this part and I might never see any ever again!

Oysters are found along the Mersea coast and the creeks here and are known as West Mersea Natives. We don’t know whether you can still buy them here but at one time they were collected and put in storage pools on the beach to sell.

We thought that our curly shells were maybe 'The Natives' but it turned out that the common British Oyster ’Ostrea edulis’ is the one so we’re still totally perplexed about our funny shaped shells. Some have pebbles embedded in them, some have other types of shells attached and we found clusters of oyster shells embedded into each other, 3 or 4 shells and in at least 2 of these clusters one of the shells still had someone at home.

It was still a glorious but very cold day and we gently wound our way to a campsite with all mod cons. The temperature is promised to be -1 degree C tonight and -4 degree C tomorrow so electric is a must.

The Shingle Coast.

2006-10-29T18:09:00.000Z

On our site that afternoon we met a lovely couple who had retired last Christmas, yes I’m telling anyone and anybody that I’ve retired and loving it! Anyway they were having a whale of a time as well and were certainly not getting time to be bored. They left that afternoon and had to negotiate Ipswich before going home so needed to get away before the rush hour.

I think the lady’s name was Doreen, so if you’re reading this Doreen it was lovely to meet you and who knows we might meet up again on another CL. We hope your Granddaughter is OK.

Next day on our way to Woodbridge we passed a signpost for Rendlesham Forest. Pat remembered the name because this is where the English Roswell occurred in late December 1980. It was a dark and windy night and the dogs were howling loudly…. Sorry I was getting carried away there. It was late December and it was 1980 and some locals witnessed the landing of a UFO in the forest. At that time there were two American airbases close by and the military men investigated the sighting. The hearing eventually suggested that there were no unusual circumstances and the Radiation levels were normal, the light was a fireball and the flashing light seen later was the Lighthouse on Orford Ness. The eye witnesses were not convinced and accused the Government of a cover up. There is now a UFO trail in the Forest but we’ve left that for another day.

As we came out of the forest it was drizzling, back to the Stratus clouds, so we continued to Woodbridge. This is a lovely town dating form the early Anglo Saxon period with lots of old houses on narrow steep streets that lead down to the River Deben. We landed in the Market Square where the old town pump still stood. It had a 3 ft iron wheel attached to it which was attached to the pump making it a lot easier to use than a normal pump handle. The town name ‘Wood bridge’ may have derived from the Anglo Saxon ‘Woden Burgh’ meaning Woden’s Town.

The main shopping street is narrow with a lovely jumble of shops in the original buildings rather than big new superstores. It still retains it’s charm and shopping here would be a lovely experience.

It was on the main street that we saw a group of young people dragging narrow brown wheelie bins behind them. They had coloured patterns painted on them and with me being so nosey we just had to follow them. It was great, they were a Drumming group, Simon and Lyn- you would have just loved them. The group was aged between about 12 and 25 and were lassies and lads. One with a shaven head looked particularly mean.
Most of the drummers used drumsticks on all parts of their bins but the oldest two actually used the bin lids as part of their drumming, the sound was fantastic. They had worked out a routine as well, part way through they all laid their bins on their sides, still drumming, and stood on them using their feet as the drumsticks. Once they were all back up the right way one of the teenage lassies leapfrogged her bin, and to add a bit of humour to the whole proceeding the next lassie leapfrogged a bucket! The crowd loved it.

At the end they all laid their bins down again this time one after the other in time to the beats and they all pointed towards the centre in a star like pattern and they stood on them. It was really great and everyone enjoyed it.

They turned out to be a church group and were advertising a free lunch at St John’s church. You can’t get better than that!

We got lost next and had to ask for directions back to the pump. By coincidence Pat had been reading that the average person gets lost for about 39 hours in a lifetime, we two are obviously getting lost for several other people.

We walked to the River to have a look at the Tide Mill. It was built about 1170 and it’s successors remained in operation until 1857. When the tide rose it opened a sluice gate and the 7½ acre pond would fill. As the tide dropped the sluice gate would close leaving the pond full. When the tide was low enough the miller would open the gate and hey presto mill power!

The pond is now part of the yachting club but they have dug a much smaller pond for demonstrations.

We spent a couple of hours here bird watching and found a Little Egret prancing around the shallows around the boats. No one seemed to be excited about it so we can only think that it is a common sight down here.
There were plenty of Godwits both Bar Tailed and Black and a few Canada Geese which seemed totally out of place wallowing in the glutinous mud. Usually they crop grass but they all had muddy beaks so I don’t know what they were finding to eat.

A lot of the boats and barges seemed to have been moored forever and looked very lived in, net curtains at the windows and pot plants along the gangways but sitting in the evil looking mud up to their plimsoll lines they looked a bit unloved and uncared for. Perhaps they will look happier at high tide.

It was still a really dull day and we decided to got back to Aldeburgh for the night.

Sunday and the wind was blowing, the sun shining so we tried to take Kite aerial photographs of the Moot Hall and some beached boats, I’ll know later whether we had any success. We also saw a boat heading directly for the shore and as he didn’t seem to be losing we speed we stood and waited for the crash. He ran straight at the beach full pelt and managed to get it halfway out of the water. Then a chain was attached and it was winched up the shingle to well above the high tide mark. In the hut by the winch the catch were all cleaned, gutted and ready for sale within minutes, small cod, crabs herring etc.

Just look what I found on the beach to the South of Aldburgh, I really really wanted it but Pat said I'd got to eat all the tins of beans to compensate for the weight!

Next stop was Shingle Street which turned out to be a row of cottages on the shingle beach, exactly what it said on the tin! I did manage to increase my Hag stone hoard to seven.

Nellie (Sat Nav) very kindly directed us to Bawdsey Quay at the mouth of the River Deben. Bawdsey Hall is the birthplace of Radar which was developed before WW2 and helped us to win the Battle of Britain.

It was here we met a super guy, Bharat, he has a Devon VW camper, the one that Pat wants, it was even the right colour, green. Bharat was enjoying his camping too much to let Pat have it so we traded conversation instead and got talking as I took over the spare chair. We sat and talked the afternoon away. Bharat loves mountains which remind him of his homeland, and loves Wales and the Lake District. He gave us some directions to lovely wild spots. Now all I’ve got to do is remember them until I get back to my map book.

Bharat was pleased for us when we told him this wandering was our new way of life and wished us well.

It’s very peaceful here, sat by the side of the River, the sun is hot and it’s hard to believe it’s nearly November. The river is about ¼ mile wide with yachts dotted down the middle. We have a sandy beach when the tides out and I’ve managed to secrete a few shells away out of Pat’s sight.

2006-10-27T19:31:00.000Z

This morning the sun was just peeping over the horizon and it promised to be a glorious day. It was, we had blue skies with a few fluffy white cumulus clouds and bright sunshine, a day out of time and we made the most of it.

Yesterday we had visited Thorpeness to try and get some KAP pictures of the ‘House in the Clouds’ but there were too many trees and one Golf Course which had trespass signs all around, so we made do with ground based photos.

The house was originally a water tower and has now been converted into a seven story house, 5 in the tower and the platform on top that extends beyond the tower on all four sides has 2 floors. The roof is a typical tiled roof with chimney. I don’t know whether I’d be able to live there with my vertigo?
The village of Thorpeness was designed and built just before the First World War and the 65 acre specially dug lake is only 3 ft deep. The houses are cunningly disguised concrete in many different styles including Tudor and Elizabethan and traditional East Anglian Tarred Weatherboard. The village has a charming olde worlde air about it but I didn’t realise it was concrete and therefore it has completely lost it’s character for me.

The lake was being used for everything except swimming, it was too cold. There were rowing boats and canoes and we parked near a couple of kids and their Mum fishing. I just had to be nosy and find out if they’d caught anything. It turned out that the kids had only just started fishing this week and they had caught a small silver fish. I would have loved to join them but the rod, reel, licence and everything else was at home.

From Thorpeness we went to Sizewell beach alongside the Nuclear Power Station, I still haven’t worked out why because last time we were there I had a paddle and it was a good 6 months before Pat stopped checking my feet for extra toes! There is a good car park (free this time of year) and plenty of people. It’s another shingle beach for as far as you can see and I found my 5th Hag stone.

Back at Aldeburgh it was getting dark so we decided to go window shopping - temptation is firmly closed after 5 o’clock. Aldeburgh is a Saxon Town and the oldest building is the Moot Hall built about 1512. It’s a half timbered building and really lovely to look at. The old red bricks and weathered timber look and feel warm and interesting. If only it could talk what stories it would tell. In the 16 century there were 3 streets between the Hall and the sea, today the Hall is almost on the shingle beach. Let’s hope the modern defences work.

This coast is notorious for lost villages and land reclaimed by the sea. The sea wall to the South of Aldeburgh is built over the foundations of one such village, Slaughden. The wall is big enough for vehicles to travel along and park and this is where we spent the night.

Slaughden had about 400 people living there in the 1800s but gradually the sea crept closer and reclaimed more and more houses until finally the pub collapsed. That was when the remaining houses were evacuated and the last house succumbed about 1930.

The River Alde has silted up over the years and now runs parallel to the coast for 10 miles and rejoins the sea below Orford. Nearer to Orford the shingle spit widens to form Orford Ness and the spit is still growing. In 12 century the spit ended at Orford quay but it now extends 6 miles further south effectively making Orford a landlocked town. Now it has lost it’s seaport status it has become a pleasant village with red bricked houses covered in Virginia creeper (lovely colour at this time of the year) and old fashioned roses and flowers in the gardens of the terraced cottages.

The main attraction here is Orford Castle Keep, built by Henry ll to help keep the spirited East Anglians under control. The castle is still in good condition so presumably it worked. The weather was perfect and we got some lovely pictures from the kite.

It was in Orford craft shop that I was told not to be a bull in a china shop. I had got a rucksack on and a kite bag slung over my shoulder. I saw him wince as I carefully negotiated the first room and when it looked like I was going into the pottery room he just had to point it out to me. I can’t understand why he was worried because surely he would have made me pay for anything I broke, as it was we left without buying anything. I did fall in love with the basketry though, one in particular had been woven out of lavender stalks and smelt lovely. I still have a bag full of lavender stalks at home, given to by a workmate so I’ll be making my own this winter.

Orford quay was disappointing but we still had a happy hour flying the kite and getting some good photos of real, old wooden boats although some of them were derelict and slowly sinking into the mud.

2006-10-27T09:29:00.000Z

Tuesday 24 October and we’re off again. It’s a lovely sunny day with some new clouds in the sky, big white fluffy ones. According to page 4 of my junior weather forecaster’s book, Cumulus. There are 4 different type of cumulus so now all I’ve got to do is decide which type they belonged to.

We headed for Suffolk where the weather should be the kindest over the next few days. The seaside places like Blakeney and Wells-next-the-Sea were very busy because the kids were on half term holiday but we managed to park at Wells. This is where I failed the temptation test again. My downfall came in a gift shop, the type that sells balls of fancy yarn, cheap! I just had to have some of the pink and Blue and then the purple was nice as was the black. I could have spent a fortune but these will end up as fancy scarves and with the colours I already have they end up looking like liquorice allsorts, very attractive.

I’m also making necklaces on my Lucet incorporating beads in them and I’m hoping they will be popular for Christmas.

That night we stayed at a place called Fiddlers Hill near Wells next the sea. It’s a late bronze age barrow with a burial chamber. It’s dated between 2000 and 1400 BC. As with a lot of these barrows, it has it’s own legend. There is said to be a tunnel running from the Guildhall in Blakeney to Binham Priory and only a fiddler and his dog were brave enough to go along it. The Mayor and other important people of Blakeney followed above ground by listening to the fiddle’s music. When the fiddle stopped they assumed the devil had taken him and neither the fiddler nor his dog were seen again, so they built this mound on the place where he was last heard. We spent a lovely peaceful, but very quiet night!

Next morning we set off early for Aldeburgh and while Pat was driving I studied the sky, I’m having a lot of trouble deciphering the clouds but this morning there was a small patch of rainbow, like someone had cut a piece off and left it lying around. My weather bible explained it as ‘Iridescence’ where sunlight bends around water particles instead of going straight through as in a proper rainbow. I’m no wiser now than I was before I read it!

We spent the afternoon on Dunwich Heath in the rain. I started my weaving and Pat had a rest, well he had done all the driving today, he reckons I’ve got my head in the clouds too much recently.

We camped on the sea front at Aldeburgh about 30 yards from the high tide mark. It’s a shingle beach here which stretches for miles and it’s very steep, Jo, you and the kids would love it, all different coloured pebbles to collect! The wind was about 20 mph straight off the sea and we hoped that it was rain we could hear battering the van and not sea spray.

There were a few fishermen along the water’s edge and the one that arrived after us started out looking quite slim but after he’d put on a tartan shirt, a jumper, a fleece, a quilted jacket and a windproof he looked two sizes larger. He must have loved his fishing because he sat out there in the wind and rain for 3 hours. I kept seeing him recast but didn’t notice whether he’d caught anything, thank goodness we’ve left our fishing kit behind this trip, I didn’t fancy that!

The Blackheaded Gulls came and hung around outside the van hoping to get some free food, not now we’re pensioners they don’t! They were all facing into the wind and now and again walking sideways at which the wind caught them and they were blown backwards, their little legs working like crazy, so fast that it looked like a film on fast forward.

After dark it was still very windy and we just had to peep out to see if the tide was in or out. I couldn’t see anything except the skyline where a few white clouds were being blown along. Underneath that it was pitch black, the sea. Pat saw the sea and all the white frothy edges to the waves he couldn’t see any horizon. As I tried to adjust my focus the clouds suddenly turned into waves all breaking in different places, it was like one of those coloured dot puzzles where you have to focus in front of the page to see the pattern, I put it down to old age.

We slept reasonably well even though the wind was noisy and next morning the sun was peeping through the clouds on the horizon and shining red. Despite that it was good day, the sky was full of all the different cloud formations none of which I can recite yet but I’m learning.

It was still windy so we walked down to a Martello Tower, built in the 1800’s as a defence against Napoleon, there are still a few surviving along this part of the coast this one being the most northerly.

We managed to get some decent KAP pictures of it. I also found my first non chalk Hag stone here, a very auspicious moment. Together we found a further 3, this makes me think of Bridget ‘cos we could spend hours searching until we‘d emptied the beach of them, mind you it is at least 6 miles long!. After the success with the Tower we wandered towards the town because there was a Windmill, now converted into a holiday home which we also photographed but with less success.

The Threshing Barn

2006-10-22T17:59:00.000Z

I've spent the afternoon spinning. Getting some wool ready for weaving bags and also thinking up new ideas for Christmas, and as Pat is watching the Grand Prix I've got the computer! So here are a couple of pictures from The Threshing Barn - just to whet your appetite.

I just love the colours and I always want to buy more wool and more wool. I really need to plan a project and then spin the wool myself but temptation is a terrible thing.

2006-10-22T16:02:00.000Z

There's no stopping me now! At the third attempt I've managed to get a picture or two included. This is the Scooby Doo house at Westward Ho! It was even creepier after dark!

2006-10-22T15:54:00.000Z

It was cold at Woolacombe.

2006-10-21T18:19:00.000Z

Later that evening I ventured out to check on the weather. The mist had cleared and the sky was like black velvet with sequins sewn into it. The Milky Way was beautiful, I don’t usually see it as clear because of all the light pollution, but this night it was perfect. The Great Bear stood out so that it couldn’t possibly be missed and I managed to find Cassiopeia, the W shape.

I felt as though I was in a Planetarium because the horizon was flat, we were on the highest point. As I looked the horizon had a faint glow above it provided by the lights of the various built up areas surrounding The Long Mynd.

Next morning the mist was back with a vengeance and I bravely (or so I thought) walked along the footpath until I could no longer see the van. I then walked another 10 paces and fairly flew back to warmth and safety.

The weather forecast was not good and we still had the dratted Stratus cloud (will I ever get to page 3 Cumulus?), in fact we were actually in it that morning, so we decided to spend a few nights at home and catch up on some visiting and also plan our next outing.

Thursday, it was still dull but dry and we visited Janet at the Threshing Barn. It really is a kaleidoscope of colour and today we ended up helping to wind wool into balls and skeins. Pat became very proficient at estimating the weight of each ball but declined to wind into skeins using a niddy noddy. The yarn was in glorious colours all hand dyed by Janet, if you’re looking for an unusual gift, you can buy scarf kits for knitting or even sock patterns and wool if you’re feeling brave.

At one point Pat was being nagged by myself and Janet plus 3 customers, he had a wonderful day! It especially took a turn for the better when we managed to fly the kite and camera. Dave, Janet’s husband, was interested in the photos and we think we got a couple of good ones for him. When we first let the kite go, Miss Piggy, a massive porker, ran into her sty obviously frightened. I went over to console her and she scuttled out to me almost grinning. She was grunting away quite happily and as I scratched her head the grunts became less and she almost melted into the wall, she was in piggy heaven and if she could have purred I’m sure she would have done.

Christmas is coming and I’m really going to have to get some spinning and weaving done because I’m plucking up courage to approach a few shops that I hope will sell some of my bags and jewellery .

I’m concentrating on spinning for the next couple of days and trying to build a Christmas stock that I can show. We’re also getting ready for a possible trip to the South East next week and we will be watching the weather very carefully.

2006-10-17T16:22:00.000Z

Saturday and we slowed down meaning that we visited only one village, Polperro. It was a dull and cloudy day but warm.

Polperro is a lovely little village with narrow streets and olde worlde houses, and we wandered up and down all morning. It’s built in a gap in the cliffs, with one road down the side of the stream and all the rest radiate upwards with houses built at odd angles on the valley side. I managed to persuade Pat to climb up a narrow pathway between the houses towards the cliff top believing that we’d get a good picture from there. Unfortunately the hedge was 7ft high and we couldn’t even see the harbour.

The harbour was small with a few modern fibreglass boats moored alongside a couple of traditional vessels. We always think the modern boats ruin the look of these old harbours but they do provide income for the area.

There was not a bit of land without a building on it and many of the houses were without a garden and so pot plants were put everywhere, on stone ledges that protruded from the walled banks of the river. so that as you looked over the bridge a splash of colour was pleasing to the eye. Doorsteps were a popular place as were window ledges.

We noticed that even though it was October there were still a lot of holiday makers carrying their suitcases to and from the car park. You are not allowed to take your car down the narrow streets but there is an electric bus service that runs every few minutes between the village centre and the car park and also a horse drawn bus. The poor horse looked bored to tears, I can’t help feeling that it’s cruel, I wanted to take the horse and let him run on the sands and free him of his life of drudgery.

We also noticed an enterprising person had bought one of those Quad Bikes with a trailer and he was carrying holidaymakers luggage up and down from the car park to the hotels/holiday lets.

As you’ve probably noticed now, I’ve got a thing about yellow lines and the only ones I noticed in Polperro had a car parked on them!
After 4 hours our legs ached and feet throbbed so we treated ourselves to a real Cornish pasty (all the cafés say that) and 100gms of fudge each, delicious.

Sunday seemed a good day to check out Dartmoor except that it was cloudy, dull and the wind was blowing. We managed to find a nice spot on top of the moors near a pile of rocks about 25ft high. Everyone who stopped here climbed the rocks and had there photo taken with arms outstretched including me. They were very climbable rocks, it’s a pity it was so misty because I’m sure the view would have been lovely.

By the time it was getting dark we were on our own, the horses in the mist looked menacing as they slowly wandered all around us munching the grass. The mist got thicker and darkness finally surrounded us. The wind began howling around the van and it was a true Dartmoor night. Thankfully the only horrible noise we heard was a car pipping his hooter as he drove past.

We have now done all 3 moors, got the t-shirt as they say, so we need some new ideas on where to stay.

So next day we decided to check out Princetown, we found the village OK but it was so foggy the gaol eluded us. This decided us, we would not spend another day and night in fog, we headed for Stonehenge.
Stonehenge is a sad place, I’ve visited it once before and it felt downtrodden and unloved by all the visitors. Today was no exception, there were hundreds and neither Pat nor I could face the crush, it feels wrong to treat such a lovely place that was obviously well loved by it’s builders, with such indifference.

That night we stayed on Salisbury Plain, and just after dark we heard this terrible beating noise, like a dozen dragons wings beating as they flew overhead. We dashed outside and there were two red lights heading straight for us, army helicopters. They were flying at about 20mph at 15ft and as they got near to us they veered to the left and continued their search. The army must have been having night manoeuvres, I just hope none of them hide beneath the van.

It was a dead still night and very warm and we can’t help but wonder if we’re going to freeze as we travel slowly North. In the morning it was still misty and dull. The stratus was very very low in fact fog in places. I’m fed up with Stratus now, I want some Cirrus and Cumulus clouds to talk about!

Silbury Hill has had it’s 1968 doorway uncovered this month to enable the archaeologists to check out the supports and find the best way to backfill the earlier excavations which are making the hill unstable. They hope to be able to put it back to it’s original state for future years. They have still not found anything in there and it’s still a complete mystery.

We were so close to Avebury we couldn’t leave without saying Hi to the stones. It was still misty and dull giving a miserable feeling to the whole place. I always lose my bearings here, everything is so big, the stones are massive and solid. I would love to able able to get the camera and kite high enough for a plan photo but with helicopters like those last night I’m wary.

It continued to be miserable and dull and the weather forecast was terrible so we decided to try and outrun the rain. It caught us up at Long Mynd where we have stopped for the night. It’s another moor, it’s wet, it’s misty and the wind is howling around the van, We’re beginning to think we’re doing something wrong!

2006-10-13T20:37:00.000Z

It thundered, lightened and rained for half the night. Unfortunately it was dark so I couldn’t see what sort of clouds they were! Big black ones I think and anyway I haven’t got to thunder clouds yet, they’re in the next chapter.

We motored on down the coast passing through Port Gaverne - we ‘d gone out the other side before we realised we’d got there, Port Isaac was too busy, and then Port Quin. There was a car park and 5 houses, but the little cove was lovely, all owned by the National Trust.

The story is that one night all the men of the village were lost at sea during a storm and the women left the village which became deserted for a few years. Apparently what really happened was the local mine closed forcing the families to move for work.

We had a chat with a local, who had moved here from Plymouth, he was digging for lug worms. He’d retired and now spent his days fishing for Bass. We couldn’t fault him, I think we’ll have to have a spade! Last trip I forgot my rod licence, this trip I’ve got my licence and my rod but no reel!

The tide was out exposing a rocky beach with rock pools and some lovely sandy areas that begged to be walked over. I didn’t disappoint. The wind was perfect, the sun was perfect so up went the kite and camera. If there are any KAPers out there reading this, we can manage when we take 190 photos and get 12 good ones but what do you do when you take 200 and get 190 good ones? It was the perfect KAP day.

We found some hitherto unknown green tentacled sea anemones which have gone into my ‘to be identified later’ folder, beautiful creatures!

Time was getting on and we still had nowhere to stay the night so we hit Padstow and immediately bounced straight back out! Inland was the cry and before we knew it we heading for Bodmin Moor. Was this the moor where that hound lived? We were about to find out. We survived again so by process of elimination it must be Dartmoor, perhaps we will test it on the way back home.

Thursday morning was dark but dry and were up early. We wanted to visit The Hurlers. Two stone circles on the moor. It was still cool because the sun wasn’t very high but we managed to fly the kite and take some photos. A difficult subject but we got at least one favourable picture.The circles were on a beautiful bit of open moorland but without bank or ditch. We walked widdershins around the first circle and deocil around the second but didn’t feel anything from either. No happiness, no good, bad or sad. It was as though they were in suspended animation waiting for the time when they will be needed again. I’ve been reading too much Arthur. Unfortunately I didn’t have my dowsing rods so couldn’t check for any earth energies.

I found some more unknown toadstools which were duly photographed and filed away for a later day.

The weather was miserable, low stratus cloud with no sun so we found Restormal castle near Lostwithiel. I love the sound of that place, Lostwithiel. Obviously hundreds of years ago somebody of importance in the village lost his withiel and spent his life crying through the streets has anyone seen my lost withiel? The locals of course referred to the place as ‘you know, that village lost withiel,! Nice story though ain’t it?
Back to the castle. It was perfectly round on a motte with a deep ditch surrounding it. It belonged to the Dukes of Cornwall and even Edward, the Black Prince spent one of his Christmas’s here. I haven’t been able to find out where he spent the others!

The inner walls were built parallel to the outer making the rooms all curved with huge windows each side of a massive fireplace. I could just see myself sitting spinning and weaving in one of the window seats with magnificent views of the surrounding countryside. Unfortunately the wind was not strong enough to fly a kite,. The castle will make a beautiful KAP subject and we’ll definitely be going back.

Down in Fowey we followed the main road to the quay. The signs showed maximum width 6ft 6 inches and they weren’t kidding. In places there was not enough room for a vehicle and a pedestrian and you had to very careful about missing the doorsteps.

It was a very old place but all the shops were for tourists so any shopping had to be done in St Austell. We called into the RNLI shop because I had two fiction books that I had finished with but they aren’t allowed to sell anything that is not RNLI related. The lady manning the counting offered to take them to the local hospice for me.

It was a lovely sunny afternoon with nothing better to do than lean on the harbour wall and watch the ferry. We could actually cross over on it to continue our journey.

We didn’t, we went to St Mawes instead. On the way we passed over a lovely old stone bridge and Pat couldn’t help but comment on the good fishing that would be there. As we crossed he amended the statement to ‘no there ain’t’ and when I asked him if the sign said ‘no fishing’ he said ‘no, it says British Rail’! The mind boggles at what sort of catch we could have got there.

St Mawes has a castle built in the 16th Century on the eastern shore of Carrick Roads. It’s opposite number on the western side near Falmouth is Pendennis Castle. Between them they protected the inlet.

The castle itself looked like a bottle top from the car park, not even worth the walk never mind the entry fee. But we are members of English Heritage and it was free so in we went to have a look. I’m glad we did, it had 3 bastions on different levels giving it a clover leaf outline from above. This would be a good KAP subject. All the canons, and there were many, were facing seaward and this proved to be it’s downfall because when Cromwell attacked from the land they couldn’t defend themselves and surrendered without firing one shot.

Down towards to the beach they built 2 rooms with thick walls that house the tons of gunpowder and the shot. The rooms were ventilated to keep an even humidity and the holes would also help dissipate any blast should the worst happen. There was a blast wall built across the front, again to minimise damage outside the building. The same sort of precautions are still used today.

As the English Heritage flag was flying straight and level we put the kite and camera up but the wind was only blowing up to height of about 50 ft and no matter what we did the kite would not climb. The photos were disappointing but at least we won’t have any problems on which ones to keep!

St Just in Roseland was on our route and Pat remembered from 40 years ago that the church on the cliff was very pretty. We parked up and walked through the gardens towards the church. It was downhill all the way and the burials have been made all over the steep wooded graveyard. The flowers are Mediterranean with Palm trees and lots of bamboo. There were channels that ran into ponds and the whole effect was quite beautiful. People from all over the country have been buried here and I noticed one ’Mum and Dad’ from Worksop. The older headstones were all covered in lichen and moss straight out of the horror movies. Under the trees late at night it would be most eerie.

As it was such a beautiful day we decided to visit Mevagissey. Our biggest mistake was to get Floss (Sat Nav) to navigate. She took us down roads where the grass not only tickled both sides at the same time but also the underside! It was very nerve wracking but after 5 miles we turned a corner and there was Mevagissey in all it’s splendour looking for all the world like a Spanish seaside town, with it’s whitewashed buildings and Palm trees, even the sea was Mediterranean blue. I couldn’t find one brick built building in the whole scene. I wonder if the planning department insist on all buildings being painted white.

The town dates from the Middle Ages and was busy as a fishing port for Pilchards which were salted and exported abroad. The streets were indeed very narrow and I can’t understand the logic of painting double yellow lines on a road that is so narrow that if you park, you cannot open your door to get out of the car! Perhaps a council clerk ordered too much yellow paint and then had to justify it.

We had stroll around the harbour, now only private boats moor, and down the high street dodging passing cars by diving into shop doorways. It’s the only place I know where when you step out of your front door you’re in danger of getting your toes run over.

In the car park we had another couple interested in the van. They retired and sold the house and now live on a Caravan Park as the summer camp commandants and winter caretakers. They’ve been here 5 years and are thoroughly enjoying themselves.

The way out of town was much easier on the nerves. At least this road had room for a white line down the middle as well the obligatory yellow ones at the side!

To anyone from my ex workplace who is reading this….. I found out last night that Pat, who is proof reading my logs, has been deleting the second space after a full stop. He wasn’t aware of the CoW checks! I have explained to him the theory and we apologise for any errors in the last three entries.

2006-10-12T20:16:00.000Z

Sylvia……………… We went to Boscastle next as you suggested. The Witchcraft museum was the main attraction although I did have to walk as far as I could along the harbour. The slate rocks felt slippery underfoot and my vertigo kicked in, a safety device I think because one false move and you were tumbling down the rock straight into the sea, the wrong side of the breakwater with no way out except swimming. Pat finally managed to get me back to the safe side of the breakwater without any mishap.

The harbour is quite fantastic and somewhere Pat’s read that if the Atlantic waves don’t get you then Boscastle Harbour will. The cliffs rise almost vertical to about 150ft on both sides and the inlet then goes round to the left, past a breakwater that juts out halfway across the channel and then curves right before finally bursting free into the Atlantic. If you can find it from seawards you are brilliant because there are no landmarks that I can see, but if you can then negotiate your way safely into the harbour, you should be captain of a Starship.

By the time we got back the Witchcraft Museum was open. I loved the Pentacles burnt into the wood above the front door and the Broom park for visiting witches (Pat’s a terrible passenger so I’d left mine at home). Once inside I enjoyed reading the history, but it’s really sad, the persecution of the village wise women and men must have been horrendous. I can’t help wondering how many others suffered because they could not find anyone with the knowledge to mix up a potion to cure their toothache, headache or other ills.

The museum obviously has all the instruments used to torture the victims and they were truly barbaric and we can only be thankful that as a race, we have grown beyond this type of persecution.

I loved some of the lucky charms and talismans they had on show and I’m certainly going to have a go at making some for myself. They’ll look good in our back garden, if we’ve still got one when we finally get home.
I was intrigued to see how many of the exhibits are protected by modern lasers and couldn’t help wondering why they hadn’t used protection spells. Perhaps modern man doesn’t believe in the power of thought!

Some of the exhibits were also gruesome, a mummified hand with a finger hanging on by a bit of bandage, a lot of dolls with pins stuck in them and dolls held over flames. These were obviously meant to cause hurt and harm to the victim but I can’t quite believe this of the everyday witch who’s creed is ‘So long as ye harm none, then do as ye will’. To ‘harm none’ is a huge task and not many of us today can honestly say we have never caused harm (include upset in that) to others.

Once back out in the sunshine we (my mouse and I) wanted sea and sand so off we went to Bude. We stopped in a layby for lunch and met Herbie, a lovely young crossbreed dog, a greyhound and wolf I think. He was so friendly his owner had no other option but to come and talk to us. His family had lived in the area for 5 years. They had sold up in Ipswich and bought a carpet cleaning business in Crackington Haven and never looked back since. He said they’ve felt on holiday for 5 years. They’re now saving for a caravan for weekends away and he wished us well with our travelling.

We arrived in Bude and having parked up it seemed a day for meeting people because we hadn’t left the van before we met with Rene (pronounce rainy) and her son Mike, who were interested in the van. She was Polish and lived with Mike locally. She also has a daughter in Vienna and sometimes goes on holiday there and has the best of both worlds. They invited us over to their house for a chat and coffee, an offer which we took up that evening.

We finally got onto the beach with the Kite Aerial Photography gear and took some low shots of a boat or two before the Dakota aircraft in the Dunkirk colours came flying by. It was Mike who told us that the beach at Westward Ho! is used as a landing strip for that aircraft.

Back at the van we were accosted by an elderly chap who again liked the van. He was a happy soul and loved our sticker that shows one finger in the air and accompanied by the words ‘ Two grumpy old farts boldly going nowhere’. He told us to look for his Fiat Panda ‘cos on the back he’s put ‘The poor man’s Range Rover’ and ‘Poxy Panda’. I don’t think he’s over keen on it.

That evening we visited Rene and Mike and Rene and I hit it off straight away. She’s 84 but makes all her own clothes, she paints, she knits some fantastic Aran cardigans and she does tapestries, very artistic. She showed me her portrait work and they were beautiful.

She told me that when Germany invaded Poland she was taken as slave labour to work for a high ranking German officer. For 3 years she worked 7am to 11pm hand washing for 7 people, keeping the house clean and tidy and lots of other tasks, it was very hard work. After the war ended she became a displaced person and was living in some Barracks near the River Elba. The British had control and she exchanged her portraits for food and soap. It was here she met Ernest, who tried to get her over to one of the barracks in the West because the Russians were going to take over. She knew she would be taken to Siberia or killed if she did not get out and found herself on a train. Luckily the train took her to a town where displaced persons could stay in barracks with the British in charge. Safe at last she started selling portraits to the soldiers and when one of them recognised her he told his Sergeant, Ernest. Ernest helped her get rooms in Hanover where he was billeted and like all good fairy tales they married.

Rene showed me some suits she had made, they were gorgeous wool and tailored. The one I tried on fitted like a glove and she would dearly have loved me to have it along with a brightly coloured print silk dress. As much as my heart wanted to take them, I knew they would only have sat in my wardrobe and I had to decline. I still think that dress would have looked good on me.

Two and half hours later (we were only going to stay for I hour) we left in a furious thunderstorm. We felt very privileged to have been invited into their home and treated as long lost relatives.

2006-10-11T18:37:00.000Z

We survived our night on Exmoor without any strange bumps or howls in the night and woke up to a lovely sunrise, the only trouble was it was red and we all know what that portends!

The previous day two trail motorbikes had passed through on the bridleway both sporting bright yellow labels announcing them to be equestrian marshal’s. They were hanging bright orange ribbons at 25 yard intervals to bracken, trees, gateposts etc along the bridleway. This was obviously a very important job and Patrick and I discussed the why’s and the wherefores of this particular manoeuvre but failed to understand why a bridle road needed markers!

On the way over Exmoor we stopped in a beautiful spot on the River Barle and despite the fact it was only 9.35 in the morning we just had to stop for elevenses. I took my morning drink and stood on the bridge, not only drinking my coffee but drinking in the view as well.

I saw a flash of electric blue which could only be a Kingfisher and I kept my eyes fixed on the bush into which it had flown. I was rewarded for my patience because it suddenly flew out and hovered over the water like a huge chestnut breasted humming bird. It plummeted head first towards the river flashing it’s electric blue back. With hardly a splash it was flying back to it’s perch with breakfast. I watched it dive 3 times as it slowly worked it’s way up river. Another dragon moment found and recorded, these are my magic moments.

We meandered along the coast road to Ilfracombe. Neither of us had been there before and I can’t say we were over chuffed but there was one fascinating little fact I’d read. There is a chapel on the crag that has a lantern like structure on the roof. The hill, which is known as Lantern hill, is about 100ft high and a steady climb. A light has been shining from this chapel for 650 years to guide sailors home. It’s a lovely little building and the views are excellent. It is still used as a Chapel and has a small photographic exhibition. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t get dates but there was a picture a baby girl being baptised and another, several years later, of the same girl getting married.

We followed the path round another hill and as I looked down onto the jagged rocks and crags below I felt that I should be seeing dwarf’s and Auk’s with a slinking Gollum climbing over the rocks. It was one of those times when perspective can get the better of you and you could imagine yourself to be 6,000 feet up looking down onto a massive area of jagged mountains 2 and 3000 ft high. A quick blink of the eyes and you’re back to 175ft. Fanciful I know but I’ learning to let my imagination take the lead.

I got my paddle at Woolacombe, it was a fantastic beach, long and wide. At the Northern end there were some needle like rocks all jutting out of the sand at a 45 degree angle and plenty of rock pools around them with starfish(one), sea anemones (dozens) and I saw one tiny fish. The rocks were covered in barnacles which at a distance gave the rocks a very intriguing look. The lightness of the barnacles made the whole scene almost transparent giving it a mystical air.

It was getting late in the day so we drove down to Westward Ho! A modern town founded in 1863 and named after Charles Kingsley’s adventure story about Elizabethan seafarers. There are 3 miles of sand which I now know is sometimes used for a Dakota airplane to land on.

We camped next to the ‘Scooby doo house’ for those of you who have kids, however old, you’ll know what I mean. All that was missing was the lightning, music and of course the monster. It’s a lovely old, rambling house now standing empty on the edge of the sands.

The sky had been full of Stratus clouds until 5 o’clock when they turned to Nimbostratus and started to rain us. Yes, I have my Junior Weather Forecaster’s book!

Next morning it was still raining and we agreed that a walk up Kipling’s Tor in the fog (actually very low stratus) was out of the question. Rudyard attended the college at Westward Ho! Between 1878 and 1882 and, well you can guess can’t you, the Tor was named after him.

The clouds had now turned from heavy rain producing Stratus to High Cirrus in an azure blue sky giving good weather and even they dissipated by lunchtime and it was suddenly gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact that we shot straight down to Tintagel. I have always wanted to visit King Arthur’s Castle. I know, I know it’s only a myth but there must have been something going on at that time. Someone who managed to persuade all the clans to band together to fight off the raiding Saxons. I don’t think he had any dragons to help him though!

I was in heaven, Pat was in hell, it was down the hill, a steep hill only to have to climb up the staircase to the castle entrance. We met a couple walking back to the car park and they were weaving from side to side to lessen the gradient. I couldn’t resist it, much to their amusement I started singing the conga song. She insisted it was her husband’s idea and just knew everyone would thing they were drunk, but after hearing me sing she decide we were maybe all drunk. I certainly was on happiness. I loved it, my lungs were burning, my heart pounding and legs threatening to collapse but I still climbed every set of steps I could find, and photographed the view in all directions, I looked over every wall and photographed the view, I looked through every window I could find and photographed the view and I photographed Patrick amongst the ruins. Now, Patrick I didn’t say that! I said amongst the ruins.

We crossed over the to the next crag another staircase down and back up the other side and they were very steep, it’s pity I didn’t count them The archaeologists have found evidence of human habitation for over 2000 years and I had to walk all around the edge, photographing the views and sea crashing onto the rocks, I was in danger of running out of camera memory! The cliff was made up of flat layers of rock and you could walk to the very edge and look down, but what you didn’t see was how much they had been undercut! I decided to stay well back, well I’m no lightweight.

I was intrigued with the caves and cliffs both North and South and could have sat for hours just looking. Photographs never do that kind of scene justice, I just hope I can carry the feeling and views with me. I loved the atmosphere of the place as well, it was almost teasing, never giving up it’s secret of what really happened and who Arthur was. I enjoy being able to use my own imagination and picture Merlin sitting in his cave reading old spells on parchment trying to find a way to deal with Morwenna, of Arthur and his knights sitting in the castle planning the next battle against the Saxons, I could go on but I’m getting RSI.

2006-10-07T19:34:00.000Z

We left Weston Super Mare in brilliant sunshine and went down a narrow, narrow lane to East Quantoxhead. It’s a lovely hamlet with a duck pond, thatched cottages, one of which has a 3ft cacti in the garden that has long flat leaves that end with a 3 inch spike.

It was a lovely walk to the beach through a few wooded areas and through the fields and I could smell Autumn. There is a wonderful fresh scent in the air, especially near woods and I remember collecting fallen leaves to stuff the bonfire with and searching the local woods for any branches that could be dragged home to be put into the heart of the bonfire. Anyway I digress, the beach was tempting but we had other places to visit today. The beach is all rock pools and on the walk back we passed two family groups armed with spades and long handled nets.

Our next stop was Dunster a mediaeval village with a Yarn Market Cross, which after a bit of research I found out was built in 1609 for the sale of ‘broadcloth’ (woollen cloth) and ‘homespun’. It’s an octagonal structure with half open sides and fully tiled roof. There is a stone and mortar central column in which the roof beams are set and the top layer of beams slope upwards supporting the joists. The lower layer of beams go straight out from the central column and rest on the uprights. During the civil war a canon ball hit one of the roof beams and has left a perfect 4 inch diameter hole which can still be seen.

The main street is very wide as befits a mediaeval village and the 13th century nunnery is in lovely condition and is now a private dwelling. It’s built from a red sandstone which seems to have been used for a lot of old buildings in this area. From there we noticed a short cut to the Dovecot through the village garden. The villagers raised the money to buy the land and now rely on voluntary gardeners to keep it nice.

The Dovecot is one of the best preserved I have seen and all the nesting holes have been painted white reminding me of a 3D chessboard. I enjoyed walking through the back streets of the village, it was quiet and peaceful, I feel this would be a lovely area to live in, no motorways or noisy aircraft.

Dunkery Beacon beckoned so we checked Matilda (Sat Nav) and sure enough under points of interest she had an entry for Dunkery Beacon viewpoint. Great, I could look at the scenery while she did all the hard work. Bad, she didn’t take us to Dunkery, she left us high and dry on a narrow road at 1 in 4 gradient upwards and we had no choice but to continue. We landed on a green, grassy plateaux and had a cup of tea while we planned our next move. We oriented ourselves, took several pictures of the wild Exmoor ponies and well, here we are. The moon is full and shining down on us and it’s still, very still, too still. We had a chat with number one son over the phone and he has just advised us to ’stay on the road and not go onto the moor and we should be OK’ and now I’m wondering was it Exmoor? No surely it was Dartmoor where that hound lived?

2006-10-06T20:14:00.000Z

We spent Thursday with my big brother and had a relaxing day and a good old fashioned natter. The weather was finally deteriorating so we booked onto a campsite just South of Bristol. With our own peculiar love of Cities we drove straight through Bristol without so much as a glance.

We’d travelled over the Severn Bridge and it’s some bridge, 443 ft towers with a single span of 3240 ft, the third longest span in the country, beaten by the bridges over the Humber and the Firth of Forth. Spring tides are 41 ft and second in the world to the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia, Canada.

On the Welsh side I noticed that we’d crossed a river and was not impressed but soon realised that the bridge , as I thought it was, was only getting us onto the main span. I don’t know if it’s possible to get vertigo in a vehicle but my legs certainly went wobbly.

Friday and it was still raining but at 3.17 am. I became a Great Aunt again to a healthy 9lb 7oz baby girl, both Mum and baby are fine.

It was our first and last visit to Weston Super Mare. We couldn’t find anywhere to park, Belinda(Tom Tom the sat nav) couldn’t find a way into Halfords, she found Halfords and we could see it but I think they had hidden the entrance, either that or it was some kind of test which we failed! Towns and us two are not compatible.

I did manage to direct Pat along a Toll road (toll not operating at this time of the year) and we followed it around Worlebury hill. It finally ends up at Sand Point (just north of Weston Super Mare), a headland that was fortified in the Iron age. We didn’t manage to climb up to the Fort because the wind was too strong and cold. We went for a walk along the base of the cliff and I’ve never really been anywhere like it. It was a large expanse of mud with parallel channels cut into it, I think by retreating tides. The grassy area appears to regularly covered by the sea at high tide.

On the way back we stopped at the old pier. What a shame it’s being left to go derelict. It is one of two piers that were built at Weston Super Mare between 1867 and 1904 adding a touch of Victorian and Edwardian architecture. An outcrop of rock was used for the foundations of the pier building and the walkway is on stilts around it and also links the whole thing to the mainland.

We’ve been lucky today because we’ve been indoors every time it’s rained, and rained it has, at times it was impossible to see where you were going and in town we saw a woman with her shoulder fixed firmly into the inside of her umbrella desperately trying to push it through the wind.

It’s now 8 pm and the wind is howling and trying to turn the van over, it’s throwing the rain at us in bucketfuls but we’re warm and snug inside and looking forward to Exmoor tomorrow - we're hoping the wind drops a bit by then.

2006-10-04T20:01:00.000Z

We spent 3 days at home and on Saturday we just had to visit the Peak District. Wherever we’ve been we always return to the Peak District it has a magic all of it’s own and we know it so well but can still find unknown paths or roads and corners.

Sunday morning was spent at The Threshing Barn, a kaleidoscope of colour, a tavern of textures, a world of wool, Aladdin’s cave - it’s brilliant, knitted, felted, crocheted, braided, you name and Janet sells it as well as all the ingredients for self make and workshops to show you how. If you’re looking for that unusual Christmas present - look no further, visit Janet The Threshing Barn near Onecote, Leek and have a wonderful shopping experience. http://www.threshingbarn.com/home/main.htm

Tuesday arrived and we’d restocked the van so set off South. Pat decided that sunglasses were the order of the day, yes it was shining again. No sooner had he changed his glasses for the film star look when the sun went behind a cloud that was 7 hours long!

At Much Wenlock we had lunch but didn’t ‘do’ the abbey because the heavens were having a good cleanout and emptying it’s water contents on us.

After much discussion and 2 cups of coffee we headed for ‘The Bog’ on the Western edge of The Long Mynd. We went there a few years ago in our first motor home, a tiny Daihatsu van called Ady, but neither of us can remember what The Bog is so this time we’ll make a note.

Well, we did have good intentions but whilst crossing the Mynd we cam across a lovely afternoon tea stop with good views (once the rain and low cloud had cleared) over the Welsh Marches. So we stopped and had afternoon tea, dinner, supper and breakfast.

That evening, we sat and watched the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds left over from the rain earlier in the day. The moon was only 3 days away from full so was casting a lot of light and lighting the clouds to give a magnificent wild stormy look to the sky.

We woke at dawn, mainly due to a herd of cows that I’m convinced thought they were Cockerels! They had been practising there ‘singing’ at intervals during the night. We took our early morning stroll along side of the field only to realise that we were being eyed in a ‘keep out of my field’ look by a great big white bull. We seem to having these meetings on a regular basis, let’s hope that this is the Southern trip meet over and done with.

It was a lovely sunrise and we decided to go to Ross on Wye, well we can please ourselves and change our minds at will now. Ross on Wye is a lovely town full of old timber framed buildings and one shop, antiques I think, still had the old bowed window frame with a single piece of bowed glass about 4ft by 6ft. I wouldn’t like to have to replace that.

I had to have a stroll along the river before we left and I was surprised to find out that it was a 6 ft slide down to the waters edge and a rope and piton job to get back! You’d certainly need a long handled landing net here if you fished here!

As the Forest of Dean is only just down the road and neither of us have been there we tried, in vain to get Sally Anne (TomTom) to get us into the heart of the forest. Sadly no-one had told her of the one way system in Ross and after two passes of the same shops we thought we’d better just take any road out of the town before we got booked for loitering.

What a lovely area, the first pull in we pulled into I was in love with the area. The ground was littered with sweet chestnuts that Tesco’s would have been proud of, and joy and joys I found some new fungi! Two of the species here I had never seen before and was happily lying in the leaf litter getting that shot of shots when I noticed a forestry commission Landover driving slowly past. I smiled at him and he gave me a ‘at least you’re happy but there’s no hope for you’ smile back. We found at least seven different varieties of toadstool. I shall have great fun trying to identify unknown ones later.

This pull in was called ‘Boys Grave’ and we didn’t know if there was any historic reason for this so moved on. I’d love to live here amongst the forest, just being on the edge of the woods made me feel so good that to live in the heart of it must be amazing.

We found a forestry commission ride and stopped to have a walk. We met a chap walking his Alsatian, a beautiful animal but very shy. I totally ignored her and it wasn’t long before she was investigating my hand and I was allowed to pat her very gently. This ride, he calls the Turtle Dove walk because he has seen more Turtle Doves here than anywhere else. We heard a few Robins and I was thrilled to hear the distinctive ’gronk’ call of the Raven. There were Sweet Chestnut trees all around, I have never seen so many and fruits were enormous but sadly they were very well protected and I would need a suit or armour to penetrate the briars and gorse and bracken to get at them.

We’re moving further South tomorrow but I’m already looking forward to visiting this area in spring and summer and autumn well anytime really.