Sunday, August 11, 2013

UK Part IV: Scotland


The final part of our trip to the UK was in Scotland and mostly in Edinburgh.  On Tuesday we traveled from Penrith station in the Lake district up to Ediburgh.  The train was only three cars long, and this being the middle of "the Festival" (The Edinburgh Fringe Festival along with several others), the train was standing room only.  I passed the trip along with seven other people and at least ten suitcases standing by the doors.  Just when I thought no one would even think about trying to get on at our door, a family with a young mother, her seven or eight year old daughter, a large suitcase, and a stroller with an infant climbed in as the rest of us frantically tried to rearrange the suitcases that filled the area in order to accommodate them.




Edinburgh is an inspiring city.  For me, the fun is walking and exploring the old streets lined with centuries old brown and grey stone buildings perforated with tiny Wynds, Closes, and Courts - tiny pasages that connect streets and lead to gardens.  The small museums are also fun, the Writers' Museum (in Lady Stairs Close) with it's narrow spiral staircase and second floor balcony and displays on Scott, Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson was probably my favorite place in the city.

Tuesday night we attended the Scottish National Royal Military Tattoo, a display of music and culture outside the castle.  While occaisionally so cheesy it was groan worthy, the technical and musical displays were amazing.  Groups from New Zealand, Korea, Mexico, and Mongolia performed along with the Royal Scottish Pipes and military band.



The Highlands
Wednesday we took a monster bus trip through the highlands.  We spent more than twelve hours on a coach bus listening the the Scottish tales of our bus driver, Peter, who never mentioned Mary Queen of Scots without the phrase "Our Tragic Queen" and told tales of the McGregors - Children of the Mist,  and of the Massacre of the Glencoe MacDonalds (as we drove through Glencoe).  We got off at Loch Ness to explore the ruins of the Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness and to ride across the Loch to meet the bus again at Inverness.



Thursday and Friday I spent in Edinburgh, exploring the city and partaking in little parts of the Free Fringe.  The Fringe Festival and the Free Fringe bring thousands of actors, comedians and musicians into town, and for a donation (or not) you can buy a beer at almost any old city pub and catch a comedy act at almost any time of the day.  Street acts fill High Street and Grassmarket, some of them are high school or college vocal ensembles in Scotland to perform at the Fringe, others are comedians cutting their teeth.  One balloon sculptor would throw a rubber chicken at people who walked away from his act.  An australian comedian and unicycle rider would introduce passersby as his "Father," ("that's not mum, dad"), agent, ex-wife ("it's over, honey") and drug dealer. He had the crowd in stitches as he waved at every passing tourist bus and invited participation from the crowd and those who walked by - all of this before he got on his 9 foot unicycle and juggled fire.



Wednesday we took the train over to St. Andrews, to see the Golf Course and the beach from Chariots of Fire fame (yup, that's pretty much the only reason we went).  While there, we also enjoyed the sights and delicious tastes of a summer fair complete with amusement rides, fish and chips, and Ice Cream.



Now we resume our trip, returning to london by train (this time not overbooked).

P.S.  When in Edinburgh, beware of bedbugs

Friday, August 9, 2013

UK Part III: The Lake District (continued)


Ambleside
Morning at the Robinson Place Farm B&B in Langdale brought a full English breakfast with eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes, and toast along with periodic showers interspersed with bright moments of sunshine.  We had arranged to take a day off of hiking for our second day and so after a leisurely morning taking advantage of the internet connection at Robinson Place Farm, we set out for a slow stroll to Grasmere - a charming town about four miles from Langdale. We strolled along the country lanes following the directions Google provided to us until we arrived at a town that was not Grasmere.  We'd walked all the way to Ambleside - nearly six miles from Langdale.  As it turns out Ambleside has buses that run out to Dungeon Ghyll, so even though we walked a lot farther getting there, we didn’t have to walk back.  We lunched, strolled, sourvenir shopped, ate ice cream, and took photos of the old English buildings of Ambleside before catching the bus back to Dungeon Ghyll.

When we woke up for our day of hiking from Langdale to Wasdale head, threatening dark clouds blanketed the valley we were to hike up.  A park ranger stationed at our trailhead behind the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel told us to expect rain from 10 to 12 and from 4:00 on.  We’d already decided to take the low route today and not go up Scafell pike, but the ominous forecast reinforced our choice.  As a precaution against sudden showers, I wore my raincoat, and pulled an orange rain cover over my day pack.

the view back toward Langdale
We walked up the valley along the Langdale portion of the Cumbria way trail with the threat of rain always ahead.  Along the way we met a German gentleman who was taking his teenage kids up Scafell pike.
“I walked this exact same trail twenty years ago,” he informed us.
"can you see us here in twenty years?!" my friend Joanna asked us.

Angle Tarn
After a couple of miles of loose stone trail on the valley floor the path crossed a small stream, and began climbing.  This portion of the trail is a recently restored packhorse trail.  This means stairs lots and lots of stone stairs that lead to the saddle between Rossett Pike and Hanging Knotts.  We climbed and climbed, and even though the sky retained it's ominous grey hue, the rain didn’t fall. We paused for lunch on the banks of the black waters of Angle Tarn before climbing more stone stairs to a cross-wall shelter (a stone wall built in the shape of a cross to provide shelter from the wind for travelers along the path) and the highest point of our low route hike.  From the shelter, we could see across the valley, across Langdale Pike all the way to Ambleside. 

Ambleside is at the end of the large lake you can see in the distance
At this cross wall shelter, the high path to the top of Scafell Pike breaks from the lower route down to Sty Head Pass.  We chose the lower route and followed the little gully that held Ruddy Beck downhill to Sprinkling tarn, and then to Styhead Tarn and Styhead pass.  From the pass we could see into the next valley down to the little collection of white buildings that make up Wasdale head.  And as we reached the bottom of the steep loose-stone path leading off Styhead pass, the heavens final opened and the rain came.   

Wast Water in the rain
Wasdale Head is a little community near the shores of the lake called Wast Water.  It is famous for it’s proximity to the great mountains of Scafell pike and Great Gable and for St. Olaf’s church (the smallest church in England with a cementary that is home to those who lose their lives climbing the surrounding mountains).  The town consists of a Hotel, a bed and breakfast, a sporting goods and general supplies shop, a pub, and nothing else unless you count sheep.  It only took us a couple of seconds to find our way to the Bed and Breakfast housed in an old vicarage where we were to spend the night.

Mud and Clouds at Styhead Tarn
Stairway in the clouds
The rain fell through the night and we knew we were in for a wet walk.  Since our guide strongly cautions against attempting to climb Great Gable (the high route) in bad weather, the low route was the way we were going. In the overnight rain the tiny springs that had trickled down between the stones in the path had grown to full-fledged brooks and streams that not only rushed across the path, but often used the path as their riverbeds.  As we climbed into the clouds that obscured the mountains, I was increasingly grateful for a good rain coat and a good pair of boots.  With the reduced visibility and the added challenge of crossing the many streams and torrents on the path it took us a bit over two hours to reach the top of Styhead pass. As we headed north along the edge of Styhead Tarn and along the now raging Styhead Gill (a gill is a  river).  Our trail wound down the hillside, sometimes disappearing entirely under the current of the bucking white water forcing us to pick our way across the stony, and sometimes boggy, grassy hillside.

Crossing Stockley Bridge
There is only so much a pair of boots can do to hold out the weather though, and all of the wading through torrents of water rushing down the mountainside began to take its toll as water worked its way into my boots and condensation built up on the inside of my rain jacket.  As we descended into the valley, I was beginning to feel a bit water logged. When we reached the valley and crossed the old stone Stockley Bridge we still a long way to go.  We walked for more than an hour through endless stone-walled pastures passing through at least a dozen gates.  Water, now in the form of deep puddles still obscured the path and often the only way through a gate was to wade through a deep stretch of water. We crossed the road and “Folly Bridge” and made our way in along a wooded path next to the River Derwent until we came to a place where the path was blocked by a large rocky protrusion that reached out into the rapids of the brown water.  We picked our paths through the rocks, trying not to look at the raging river crossing a slab of rock with the help of a chain attached just above a natural crack across the slab.

Past the youth hostel and across another field, it was less than a mile to the Royal Oak Hotel.  The Royal Oak Hotel – the perfect ending for a marvelously wet day walking along the fells and among the peaks of the Lakes. The Royal Oak Hotel and their warm inquiry as we walked in “tea and scones?” Yes please!

Next up: Scotland…well, Edinburgh anyways.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

UK Part III: The Lake District

 
 
My friends and I arrived at Penrith train station at 10:35 in the morning.  Between the four of us, it didn’t take long to arrange for tickets to Edinburgh find the bus schedule for the busses from Penrith to Keswick (pronounced Kezik), and chat with a teacher from Lacashire who teaches 17 7-9 year olds in one classroom and was going to Keswick for a convention.  The bus to Keswick only leaves once every hour, but the bus from Keswick to Rosthwaite – the start of our walking trip – leaves every half hour and it is only a 15-20 minute ride between the two communities.



We stepped off the bus in Rosthwaite next to a stone wall bordering a field.  There was no walk, or footpath to speak of and the road was just barely large enough for one lane of traffic.  We walked down the road and ducked into a narrow alley to check for directions to the hotel.  There were no directions.  The day was rapidly turning into my kind of adventure.  We walked along the alley as this seemed like a one-alley, stone-cottage kind of community. At the end of the alley we came to the Flock-In tea house, but no hotel.  It was time to ask for Directions.  We asked two gentlemen enjoying a pint in the patio of the little stone-cottage bed and breakfast in an adjoining alley.

“I’m not sure” one of them said, “Let me ask someone who might know.”  He got up and went inside the little house.  A couple of minutes later a woman came out. 

“What are you looking for?” She asked in the almost Scottish lilt that is characteristic of this area.

 “We’re looking for the Royal Oak Hotel.” I replied.

“That’s over in Rosthwaite.” She said.  “you go right to the end of this road, turn right on the next one, go to the end of that road to the main road and there’s two hotels there, you’ll see them right there.”

For a brief moment I felt like an idiot.  The directions she gave us were back along the alley we came up, and we didn’t see any hotels when we turned up from the main road.  Nevertheless, when we arrived back at the main road, just beyond a narrow spot created by the corners of two stone building, stood the Royal Oak Hotel.



Any discomfort we may have experienced in our momentary inability to find our accommodations and walking trip start-point was quickly dispelled by the warm welcome given us by Neil when we rang the bell.

“Tea and Scones?” he asked once he’d given us our room keys and made dinner arrangements for us.

“Perhaps in a bit.” We replied.



We spent the afternoon getting organized for our first day hiking, reading the guide, studying the map, arranging for a hotel packed lunch with Annie, packing our day-packs, and finally, “dressing for dinner” (as best we could given our limited travel wardrobes).



Dinner at the Royal Oak Hotel in Rosthwaite is quite an affair.  Soup, main course, and desert, and a comprehensive wine list and full bar was far more than I’d imagined when Neil made the arrangements for us.



 Leg I: Rosthwaite to Langdale – The high route via Dungeon Ghyll




Our path started out heading south-east along the famous “Cumbria Way” trail.  Sheep dotted bright green pastures bordered by loose stone walls shot up the hillside to our left as Stonethwaite Beck (a beck, by the way, is a stream or river running through a valley) bubbled away on our right.  I found myself grateful for my gortex lined boots right away as the tiny streams coming off the fells.  A “fell is elevated ground  flooded across the stone path. I found The ridges and rocks of the Barrowdale Fells on our right and Greenup Edge on our left gradually became more pronounced.




At Smithymire Island, our way diverged from the Cumbria Way path and led upwards toward Greenup Edge.  The higher we climbed the more challenging the trail grew eventually turning into a steep scramble up the rocks leading to Lining Crag - a blustery stone outcrop with beautiful views of the green valley we’d just come through.  We huddled down among the rocks for some protection from the wind and munched happily on our enormous packed lunches.

From Lining Edge we continued our upward track to Greenup-Edge on a better trail, and from their climbed our way to the Low White Stones, the High White stones, then across the boggy highlands to the summit of High Raise (762 m).


Cairn (man made pile of stones) at the top of High Raise
After a short huddle in the wind shelter constructed of a short storm wall where we chatted with two gentlemen also on their way to Langdale, and consulted our instructions and map, we set off again.  As the gentlemen (a good deal faster than we were) slowly faded into the distance, the path grew boggier and finally disappeared altogether. I pulled out my compass and attempted to guide us in more or less the correct direction while looking for markers for the path to Dungeon Gill.  I again found myself grateful for a good pair of boots as more than once I stepped into boggy muck that rose to my ankles before relinquishing its hold with a satisfying squelch.   

As we reached the top of a rise of whitish stones, I noticed a group of hikers a short distance below.  I trotted down the stone-speckled grassy hillside to catch them.

“Hello” I said to the first hiker, youngish a middle aged, thin man in brown trousers and a pullover sweater.

“Hi” He replied.

“Excuse me I said, - my friends and I are having some trouble locating the trail to Dungeon Ghyll.  I was wondering if you happened to know that trail.

“I’m sorry, I have no Idea, you should ask Ian, our guide.” He said, indicating another man a few meters off.

“Thanks.” I said, as I turned toward Ian.

“Where are you heading?” Ian asked,

“Dungeon Ghyll” I replied, “we lost the path in the bog.”

“Yeah, the path gets a bit…ambiguous up here.” He replied. “What you want to do is head around those rocks over there and the path should become clear once you get round to the other side.”

“Great, thanks so much!” I said, then turned and bounded back up the hillside with energy that surprised even me.  For a brief moment, I felt like Lizzy Bennett running her cares away in the English Countryside.



I related the news to the others and we began heading in the direction of the mound of rocks that Ian indicated.

“If we find the trail on the other side of these rocks, I’m going to sit down and celebrate with some M&M’s” I told Amy. “And if we don’t find the trail on the other side of these rocks, we’ll first look on the other side of those rocks, and then, at the moment I’m most frustrated, we’ll sit down and have some M&M’s because the world always looks better when you’ve eaten some M&M’s.


When we reached the rock, a rock trail appeared, almost as if by magic.  True to my word, we sat down and took a few moments to munch on M&M’s and trail mix before beginning down the trail.  As a wise young woman once observed: “food always tastes better in the out of doors,” and those M&M’s tasted heavenly.


Stickle Tarn


Stickle Ghyll
The trail down the mountain was more challenging than the description in our guide made it sound.  It was steep and the scree that covered the trail in so many places made it difficult keep footing.  There were many places where we had to scramble, to sit and slide, or to hug the cliff wall in order keep our footing.  Every 50 meters seemed to take an eternity and by the time we reached Stickle Tarn (a tarn is a mountain lake or pool formed in a hollow formed by a glacier) and started down the stairs, my muscles and mind were both tired from the effort.  

 Perhaps at this point in the story it might be worth mentioning that we never actually found the path down Dungeon Ghyll.  Dungeon Ghyll is a steep and deep ravine that hides a stunning water fall.  The path we found also led to a spectacular cascade of water, but this cascade is called “Stickle Ghyll” (a ghyll by the way is a stream or narrow valley containing a stream).  The path we were on, however matched the description in our guide to the letter, and fortunately ends at the same point as the Dungeon Ghyll path.  

About 100 meters into our descent of Stickle Ghyll the trail seemed to disappear.  At almost the same moment, I noticed a parallel trail that seemed to be in better repair running along the other side.  I mentioned this to my companions and they pointed out that several people had crossed the cascade.  At that same moment, we watched two hikers descend to the cascade, step from rock to rock in the raging torrent to reach the trail on the opposite side.

“So we can climb up and cross the dam, or we can try to cross the waterfall.” The vote fell to the waterfall. And so, one by one, we stepped across the slick, wet stones of Stickle Ghyll to the path on the other side.



Waterfalls at the bottom of Stickle Ghyll
The rest of the descent was a blur.  We reached the bottom, followed the directions in our guide to the hotel, discovered we’d been booked at a different hotel (a mile and a half back down the road we’d just walked).  Ate dinner at the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel, and walked back down the road to the Robinson Place Farm B&B where we were greeted by Vicky who had these words of warning: “you’ll have to dook. If I see big red marks across your forehead in the morning, I’ll know ya forgot to dook.”  So with, tired muscles, bellies full of English pub food, and Vicky's warning ringing in our ears, we went to bed.

The little white house is the Robinson Place Farm B&B
...To be continued.

Saturday, August 3, 2013

UK Part II: London


I feel as thought I should post an addendum to the methodology I outlined in my last post.  What do you do when the address google gives you for the hotel is wrong?  Answer: Find Free WI-FI (in London, I recommend any of the train stations) and try to find the correct address.  I mention this because after about an hour wandering down Craven Road, and Craven Hill and some other Craven street in London as I searched for the Oxford hotel, I  returned to Paddington station to look up the Hotel's website only to discover that our hotel was actually on Craven Terrace.  No wonder Google maps got confused.  

Westminster from the Cloisters

I met my friends at the Oxford Hotel in London mid-day on Tuesday.  We had two day London Passes and and a day and a half to use them.  Needless to say, we flew around the city so fast it made me dizzy.  That wasn't the only thing in London making me dizzy (can anyone say spiral staircase in St. Paul's?).  On Tuesday afternoon we went to Westminster Abbey so that I could pay homage to the cosmati pavement and then to Kennsington Palace where voices whispered in the window seats of the innermost king's chamber.  After dinner in a pub and a brief rest in the hotel, we ventured out again to find Wafflemeister near the South Kennsington tube station for some delicious desert waffles.

Kennsington Palace - you might hear whispers

Armour collection in the Tower of London


Wednesday was jam-packed with sight-seeing.  We began at the overcrowded (and overrated - I guess it's just one of those things that everyone has to see once) Tower of London (pictured above and Left), grabbed a bite to eat on our way to St. Paul's whose dizzying spiral staircases to the galleries are enough to take anyone's breath away, and the views from the top will leave you breathless (pictured below). From St. Paul's we hopped on a bus to the British museum where I enjoyed the ambiance of the enlightenment exhibit in the "king's library" a room built to house a collection of books donated by King George the 4th.  We took a breather back at the hotel before heading out to race through the National Gallery, eat dinner and then go for a night of looking at the lights of The Houses of Parliament and Buckingham palace.

If it sounds dizzying it is because it was.  During my time in London, I visited Four train stations and countless underground stops, rode 4 buses (but no taxis), visited 10 of the major tourist attractions (decided I have no interest in seeing anything except the churches again),  found 1 delicious waffle shop and 2 mediocre pubs, and got a grand total of 10 hours of sleep over two nights.  Needless to say, we all slept a little on the 3 hour train trip from London to Penrith (North Lakes) on Thursday morning.


Next Stop: Lake District.