Category: Holidays (Page 3 of 20)

The Adventures of Chris and Terry

Sabah, Borneo 4-14 September 2024

September 15, 2024 /

Perth to KL  4-5 September

We felt like we were participants in the television reality show “The Great Race”, where contestants always seem to be running madly around in circles with their heavy backpacks on, trying to solve cryptic clues and receiving lots of knock-backs.

Our contest began as we drove to Perth Airport Long Term Parking through continual rain. These days, we do relatively little night driving, there being little need, but the conditions made the traffic on Tonkin Highway challenging at times. We made the dash for the shuttle bus stop, gained the sanctuary of the shelter and saw the read-outs of flight times. “Delayed” by two and a half hours. Our Malaysian Airways flight was scheduled for 1:25, but now listed for 4:15am. We were comfortably early at 10:45 but we now faced a long wait of either staying awake or somehow sleeping in an airport seat. There was also the worry about meeting our connecting flight to Sandakan in Sabah on time.

Already a tad irritable, the blood pressure rose when faced with a $13 a glass charge for a red wine and then copped the cheek of a “eftpos only” sign accompanied by a 1.6% surcharge on eftpos. I later found that the practice of charging a surcharge when no cash option is offered is illegal, but then the girl behind the bar is not the owner of the business, so what can one do?

The flight at least took off on time according to the new time and they had the good sense to delay the serving of a meal and darken down the plane so everyone could get some sleep. Christine slept quite well, I managed an hour or so between movies and the time passed tolerably well in the cramped economy class conditions. Breakfast was served with the rising of the sun but, it being Malaysian Airlines, chicken rice for breaky is a bit hard to take.

We had been told to head straight to the transfer counter at KL. We weren’t the only ones missing transfers, with another couple looking for a London flight and another now heading to Singapore to try to get a Hanoi connect. We eventually found help and were told they were holding the gate for us at B9. We were in building C so we had to find our way down to get on a bus to take us to B Block. All this time, we had still not entered Malaysia, a point that worried me. We were rushing from place to place, getting on buses, asking for lots of help. The system seems to be that you only ever give someone 60% of the answer, enough to make them think they know what you mean but leaving 40% unanswered. That’s how it was. We went from one place to another, finally coming to a point where going through immigration was inevitable. “That flight has gone,” we were told. I wasn’t surprised. We entered the country, and found yet another help desk.

The Malaysian Airlines people were very sorry and helpful. Within minutes, we were handed vouchers for more meals than we could eat, accommodation at a 4 star golf resort and transfer vouchers, along with boarding passes for the Sandakan flight the next day. Armed we these, and what we though were clear instructions for locating our luggage, we headed off again. The luggage proved a bigger puzzle, until we eventually found another very helpful girl who told us to go to carousel G, where our luggage was. After 20 minutes at Carousel G there was no sign of our two blue bags, even though our Tile Tracking App told us they were right close by. Finally, we walked right around the huge carousel to see them sitting off to the side, waiting for us.

We followed the instructions to find the transfer to our hotel, getting it 60% right before having to seek new instructions and then waiting an hour after missing a coach by mere seconds. By the time we arrived at the hotel, we were wrecked, happy to indulge ourselves in the luxurious surroundings and expansive buffet lunch.

View from our hotel window over the gold course

KL to Sandakan, Sabah – 6 September

We rose early, had an over-indulgent breakfast then were taken by private car to KL Airport. The formalities went without a hitch, boarding was on time and things were looking up.

At Sandakan, I was surprised to find we had to pass through immigration once more, despite it being a domestic flight, but the authorities had their reasons. This too went smoothly and we found a driver waiting for us on the other side of customs. The tour company had arranged for us to have a private tour to make up for some of what we had missed. Our guide was wonderful, an older man who used to be a guide may years before but now did free-lance driving. He still had the knowledge to make the afternoon really enjoyable.

We visited the Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Centre. This facility is dedicated to caring for sick, injured or orphaned orangutans and allowing them to return to the wild. Some animals choose not to leave, and continue adult life in the forests around the centre, benefitting from the food and medical availability. The success rate of a wild return is 66%, and since opening in 1964, the centre has catered for 760 orangutans. The first thing that struck me was the incredible height of the timber in the rainforest, with huge ironwood, ficus and teak trees abounding. The understory was almost impenetrable but we had the benefit of an elevated boardwalk.

We watched one female orangutan at a feeding platform doing her thing with the assortment of fruits and vegetables before heading to another area, that acts as a nursery area for the young ones or nursing mothers. This was a highlight, watching the juveniles play, and the obvious loving bonds between two females, one which had a young one and the other that seemed to want a bit of a cuddle. We could have sat for hours and just watched the family interactions.

The Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Sanctuary

Walking back along the boardwalk, we encountered a female orangutan with baby walking towards us. On instruction from staff, we just kept to one side of the boardwalk and the pair passed by quite happily.

From the orangutan sanctuary, we made our way to the Sandakan Australian War Memorial Gardens. The gardens are set on the site of the POW camp, and although little remains, there were a few bits and pieces scattered around, each documented for its significance. It was from here that 2,434 POWs were sent off on the infamous “death marches”. Three marches were organized late in the war to carry supplies to embattled Japanese troops in Ranau. Only six survived, and only because they escaped. The rest were so malnourished that they could not complete the marches, or died shortly after reaching the camp in Ranau.

I found the site particularly emotional, because my father had been stationed here after the liberation. As a Japanese interpreter, he had a part to play in the interrogations of many that were later convicted of war atrocities. He was never one to talk much about it but I was always interested in the story. I can recall seeing a photo of him on the beach at Sandakan but its whereabouts is now a mystery.

Sandakan with a view from our hotel window

We checked into the Hotel Elopura (the ancient name for Sandakan). This proved to be a 2 star hotel trying to be a 4 star but not making the grade. Still, the shower was hot, the location excellent with street markets one side and waterfront eats the other. The food on the street is incredibly cheap. The challenge is to find a place that has acceptable food and cold beer. We are in the heartland of muslim Malaysia, so alcohol is not readily available. We found a seafood restaurant that sold beer, so we skipped the food and had a relaxing cold Anchor Beer. The menu was tempting, a whole mud crab in chilli sauce only costing 35Rt or $A10.50. Where in Australia could you get that? In the end, we had our beer and moved down the boardwalk to Bistro 88, where we had a huge bowl of fried squid, followed by a plate of pepper sauce chicken wings, with a few more Tiger Beers for 57Rt, less than $A20.

Borneo Natural Sukau Bilit Lodge – Sept 7,8

It was another early rise (getting sick of them) for breakfast overlooking Sandakan Harbour before getting on the tour bus for the trip to the rainforest lodge. Along the way, we stopped at a proboscis monkey sanctuary. These strange looking creatures feature a large overhanging fleshy nose, making for a really comical appearance. I am not sure to what extent it was an actual sanctuary rather than a tourist orientated feeding situation although it did provide for a population of monkey whose habitat has been largely destroyed by palm oil plantations. The monkeys typically live in a mangrove forest on the edge of rivers and the boardwalk out to their living area was alive with birds, mudskippers and insects. There were also long-tailed macaques, a very common type of monkey that has no fear of humans at all and are well known to steal what ever they can.

The Proboscis Monkey Sanctuary

We pushed on and arrived at the rainforest lodge, situated on the edge of the Kinabatangan River, Borneo’s longest river. The lodge consists of a large open communal area and numerous individual chalets, all built on stilts and connected by high wooden boardwalks. The all-timber chalet was spacious, air-conditioned and equipped with a good ensuite bathroom. It was very comfortable and quite charming, set amongst rainforest with its resident population of mischievous monkeys. At times, the monkeys would descend on the eating area trying to steal food. Despite the pleas of the locals, some silly tourists insisted on leaving food where the monkeys could get at it, thereby encouraging their behaviour. The food was one thing, but phones, cameras and wallets are a bigger concern. They take anything.

TheNatural Sukau Bilit Lodge

The main activity consists of getting into long boats and being driven along the river spotting for wildlife. The main targets were long tailed macaques, red leaf monkeys, proboscis monkeys, hornbills, crocodiles, orangutans and elephants. We managed most, but failed with the elephants. There were a total of three cruises scheduled, but we begged off the 5:45am start and slept in. When there was word around of a herd of elephants some 30km down river, an afternoon trip was organized. We travelled at high speed down the river, entered a small quiet tributary and cruised the banks. A group of fishermen gave us the news that the elephants had moved on. We would have been happy to shrug our shoulders and say “C’est la vie” but the guide tried to make up for it by subjecting us to another hour and a half of cruising the river, occasionally stopping to watch yet more monkeys play.

Searching for wildlife on the Kinabatangan River

The food at the lodge was all local, and incredibly good. They did have difficulty managing the concept of “COLD” Tiger Beer but were very obliging when groups of Aussies basically commandeered the icecream freezer to chill drinks.

On the second day, we drove to the nearby Gomantong Cave System. These are not so much a cave system in the normal sense, but rather enormous cavernous overhangs, with several pothole entrances in the roof. The caves are heavily populated by bats. Swifts also return every year to build nests along the walls and roof and there is an age-old tradition of harvesting the nests after the young are raised for bird’s nest soup. The nests sell for over $1000 a kilo so the dangerous practice of climbing long slender ladders to get to the nests is justified.  The place just reeks of toxic bat droppings. The ground literally crawls with huge cockroaches and the walls are home for big centipedes with extremely long legs. Some of the ground is moist and home for small crabs. We watched one dragging the body of a baby swift way as its prize. Fortunately, we were forewarned and wore helmets for the bat droppings and mask coverings to make the smell bearable. The boardwalk to reach the cave was more of a highlight, with the rainforest harboring beautiful insect life, some amazing butterflies and a lovely family of red-leafed monkeys. We also saw an eagle return to a tree clutching its prize of a bat.

The Gomantong Cave

Afte the cave, we returned to the lodge. The lodge was a wonderful place to stay, even though the whole nature wildlife experience was rather underwhelming. For some reason, bird life is scarce by Australian standards and I missed the constant chatter they create. Excluding a number of monkey species, there is little diversity of other animals and a river cruise does not compare with a similar cruises along a river in the NT. Another very upsetting aspect was the rubbish in the river. There were plastic water bottles everywhere. At one point, where a major snag had created a raft of branches, I estimated more than 500 bottles had been caught up. The local people claim to protect the natural forest for tourism and part of their cultural connection. They need to do something about the rubbish.

On the second day, a group of young travellers arrived, most with various European accents. I took notice of quite a few of the young girls, for all the wrong reasons. They had come to a local community where all the women are dressed to cover up and they chose to parade around in skin-tight two piece fitness wear. It must have been insulting for the local people, and I certainly found it very disrespectful. Not all of our Australian tour group were seniors like us, but everyone dressed respectfully and in keeping with the needs of the day’s activity. Being Australians, we did rather insist on finding a way of keeping beer cold, a challenge the locals seemed happy to help us with despite their own lack of alcohol.

Kinabalu Pines Resort – Sept 9

We both woke up with the good old Bali belly, or at least the Borneo version of it. I was only affected in the bottom end but Christine worked both ends. We had some Gastro Stop, which stayed the runs and another guest supplied some anti-nausea meds so we were able to pack and take to the bus in a reasonable condition. The day consisted of lots of driving, around 6 hours of it, taking Route AH150 across Sabah towards Kota Kinabalu. On the Malay Peninsula, intercity roads are extremely good, usually dual carriageway and formed to smooth out the hills. In Sabah, they are working on it, but the main arterial route has a long way to go before it is finished. Travel is slowed by the 50 kilometres of roadworks and the ever present palm oil trucks, not to mention the large potholes. We bumped our way eastwards, stopping a few times at road houses for toilet breaks or snacks. The bus refuelled at one point, everyone amazed at the 75c per litre. Apparently, fuel is subsidized by the Government. As we headed east, the country became increasingly mountainous, slowing our progress. The palm oil plantations gave way to thick jungle, making one huge green carpet around the chain of mountains that leads to the imposing Mt Kinabalu.

Our first real stop was at the Sabah Tea Plantation under the shadow of Mt Kinabalu. Here we had lunch, something that did not interest us much, apart from a bit of soup and tiny tastings of the five courses offered. The heavens had opened, the first rain of the trip, and it made up for the rainless days, pouring down in a true tropical downpour that lasted half an hour or so. We did buy some tea from the shop, being very impressed with all the tea we had sampled in Sabah, so much so that I have turned to drinking my tea black.

Sabah Tea Plantation

The tea house was in a district called Ranau. This was the end point for the infamous Death Marches, and there are several memorials around telling the story of those who suffered and died. Later, we shared a dining room with a tour group of Japanese, and I found myself wondering whether the tour programs are adjusted for them or whether there is the same focus on the atrocities of WWII.

After the tea house lunch, the plan was to visit a “Fish Spa”, where people dip their feet into the river and have all the old and loose skin eaten away by fish measuring up to a foot long. We questioned whether this would actually be fun, as did most of the others on the tour, and so none of us seemed upset when we were told that the heavy rain had caused localized flooding and the experience was off the agenda.

We settled in the evening at the Kinabalu Pines Resort, a series of chalets and a restaurant offering magnificent view of Mt Kinabalu. At 4050m, it is a serious peak and forms a strong part of the local cultural beliefs. Although shrouded in cloud, we got enough of a view to give great promise to the vista in the morning. The temperature too, is much lower, with the resort being around 2000m above sea level. It is strange to see hydrangeas, lilies and portulaca growing in the garden beds after so much jungle growth. Our room was not even air-conditioned and didn’t seem to need it.

The Pines Lodge and Mt Kinabalu

Dinner at the restaurant was a huge disappointment. Feeling much better and ready for something substantial to eat, we found the food to be terrible, the first bad experience we have had in Borneo. Even the steamed white rice was unpleasant. The Google Reviews backed up our opinion. Nice place, poor food.

Kota Kinabalu  10 -13 September

We had a later than usual start at 9am, heading off to the Ranau Death March Memorial. There are four gardens, Australian, British, Bornean and Contemplative, each dedicated to one of the three groups that suffered so much under the Japanese occupation of 1942-45. We sat and watched an old Channel Nine report on the death marches, back when a group of Australian men and women re-enacted the same march of 260km in 2005. The footage included interviews with two of the only six people to survive the experience and it brought tears to everyone’s eyes. The tissues were out in force.  After the film, we inspected each of the four gardens. It was a moving moment. Everyone felt the same way, a sense of shame and disappointment that more is not made of this terrible event back in Australia. Perhaps it is because it was part of a stuff-up on the part of the Australian and US leaders. There was a clear opportunity for a rescue mission early in 1945, but it was abandoned after some wrong intelligence that said the prisoners had already been moved. General Blaney blamed MacArthur, General MacArthur blamed Blaney. More than 2,500 Australians and around 500 British died.

Ranau Death March Memorial

From the war memorial, we headed to the Kinabalu National Park for a walk through the Botanic Garden. With over 250 orchid species growing, it would  be an amazing place in flowering season, but despite the lack of colour, it was still extremely beautiful, with some of the fern and moss communities on the streamside boulders being truly amazing. Our guide, Sarah, was quite an expert on the flora of the area and especially knowledgeable about the medicinal properties assigned to many of the plants through the old tribal cultures. Sarah is obviously very proud of her culture and has done a terrific job of promoting her people throughout the tour.

Mt Kinabalu National Park

Lunch was at a mountain-top restaurant, which proved to be a big improve on the Pines Resort, especially a deep fried mushroom dish, a some delicious crispy skin chicken. There should have been a wonderful view but the heavens opened once again, reducing visibility to mere metres and making for a mad dash back to the bus. It was a long slow drive down the mountains to Kota Kinabalu, with a brief stop at a souvenir market outlet.

Kota Kinabalu is a  medium sized town of around half a million people. It is modernizing but still has big areas that look like the 1970s, interspersed with modern blocks of offices , hotels and residences. Unlike the areas we have travelled through, Kota Kinabalu has a heavy Christian population (Catholic) and a large ethnic Chinese Malay community, so food offerings and entertainment is more diverse. It has a healthy tourist trade, with a number of top hotels and resorts. Ours is the Shangri-La Downtown, and claims to be 4 star but is definitely only a 3. It lacks a swimming pool and even a dedicated bar. Quite a number of people in our tour had issues with their rooms, demanding changes, but not always getting complete satisfaction in a highly booked hotel. To not have working air-conditioning in this climate is not on. We had no complaints though, other than the organization of breakfast being a bit of a shambles. There are usually three to four tour groups in and to try to service them with one egg chef is crazy. There are big bottle necks in the self serve process around the single toaster that requires two passes to brown the bread. I assume it has been this way for a long time and it is a fairly simple fix.

Views of Kota Kinabalu

Around Kota Kinabalu

The first day of activities in Kota Kinabalu was a boat ride out to the tiny Manukan Island, around 8km off shore. We set out in two open boats, each holding 14 people and motored into a choppy sea in 15 knot breezes. In no time at all, we were totally drenched, some even resorting to donning a mask and snorkel. The water kept coming aboard, the only saving grace being that it was at least lovely and warm. Most had opted to wear day clothes with a change of bathers. We needed to have boarded in bathers.

Once at the island, we found a pretty little resort with a nice sand beach, and marked off snorkelling areas over extensive coral. However, the on-shore breeze stirred everything up and made a low surf line across the beach, so only swimming was really feasible. Once in the water, the sand gave way to a rock rubble bottom, so the best idea was to swim out to deeper water. The water was around 30 degrees and most of the group enjoyed a good swim. Before long, the looming threat of a thunderstorm appeared and we made for the shelter of the restaurant to have a beer, which being the only place on the island, cost more than double what it did elsewhere. The wind increased, shutting down the beach, but the rain skirted us, leaving us free to enjoy a good lunch of barbecued skewers, satay and seafood. After lunch, a second squall arrived and near horizontal rain poured through the open air restaurant area, making us evacuate to an indoor area to await a boat home.

Manakn Island

Our guide had arranged one boat with more cover, a very good sea going powered catamaran. It would not take the whole group so 8 people opted for the open boat again, in much bigger seas. They probably fared better, because the skipper of the small boat took it slow, while the catamaran skipper opened up both engines and people seated on one side still got drenched. We were all able to laugh about the whole experience.

On our second day in Kota Kinabalu, we visited the Mali Mali Cultural Village up in the foothills of Mt Kinabalu. This proved to be the highlight of the tour. It is a living display of the old lifestyles of five of the tribes of Sabah, with reconstructions of the houses and long-houses used in older times, although some still exist today as part of a preferred lifestyle. As we were introduced to each tribe, there were people present to demonstrate cooking, making of rice wine, fire making, rope making and other traditional skills. Despite the fact that most of the 2 hour tour was spent in heavy rain, it was informative and entertaining. Much was made of the head-hunting lifestyle of the past, which, in some cases, did not completely disappear until after WWII. One of our guides said his grandfather had been a head hunter and still retained his heads. The head hunting was a way of life, attacking other groups within the tribe as well as other tribes. A man could not marry unless he had proved his strength by taking heads, with a desirable bride demanding as many as 20 heads. Some tribes only took male warrior heads, while others took any head, man, woman or child. They were dangerous times.

Mari Mari Cultural Village

The final tribe was the Murat, the most feared of the head-hunting tribes. As we approached their hall, I was sent out to greet the head man, with instructions to keep my hands at my sides and speak directly, telling him where we had come from and why we were visiting. If he was feeling generous, he would spare our heads. I must admit, this guy looked fearsome. It was a laugh.

The tour finished with a cultural dance display. These are never our favourite thing, but this display was entertaining, the music being quite infectious and the dance skill amazing, especially the last one where warrior men moved their feet incredible fast across a grid of clashing bamboo sticks.

Mari Mari Cultural Dance

The meal the followed was all local traditional food and was delicious.

We had a few hours each day of free time in Kota Kinabalu. It is much like any Malaysian city, with a few shopping malls and a great many small shops. On the waterfront, there is a restaurant/bar strip that saw most of our group gather together each evening, much to the delight of the owners of the one spot we had somehow settled on. We even found ourselves buying pizza, a welcome relief from curry and rice, which proved to be a first class pizza by any definition.

The fresh markets are often a place to be avoided in Asian cities, but Kota Kinabalu’s was very clean and lacked the pungent smell of others. The fish market was filled with very fresh looking fish of all types, along with a wonderful assortment of equally fresh looking shellfish.

Overall, the experience has been a positive one and certainly represents one of the best value tours one could hope for. Some of our tour had bad experiences with Malaysian Airlines, with return flights cancelled and new flights occurring two days later with a return to Sydney via KL then Hong Kong. The extra two days was at the travellers expense and Malaysian Airlines told them to use travel insurance. Some people were critical of the tour operators, Trip-a Deal, but we found them to be very helpful and more than accommodating with us. Their responsibility for flights ends once the flights are booked, they are very clear on that. However, in our case, they laid on a private tour to make up for what we had missed by being a day late. Malaysian Airlines too, treated us very well to accommodate us in KL.

Sarah, our guide, and Muss, our driver, were both first class. Sarah had an encyclopedic knowledge of the various cultures of Sabah and a great sense of humour. Muss was a very careful and patient bus driver in some very difficult conditions. He also went out of his was to assist us all with storage of cold drinks in eskies and stopping at the best places to purchase alcohol, very necessary when looking after Aussies.

Sarah, our guide and Muss, our driver

The tour was very busy and rather full on. A complete relax day in the middle would have been good. The guide was worried about the day we had to drive almost right across Sabah, a whole 280kms. However, it did take 6 hours but no one seemed overly bothered. We noticed that the tour operates in either direction. We came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t matter which direction you went, if anything, having the knowledge from the Mali Mali Cultural Centre early in the tour might have been a plus.

The group we were with was a diverse one, with mostly couples around our age or slightly younger, as well as a few young people and even one teenager. We found that there was a lot of mobility with no one forming little sub-groups and a lot of social mixing in the times we had to spare. We were all Aussies, from every state bar the NT and SA, and we were the only Western Australians.

The biggest disappointment was the lack of wildlife. Sabah is promoted as a wildlife destination, and it has some of the last remaining rainforest communities on the planet,  but sighting wildlife in the heavy jungle is difficult and a waiting game. To be honest, we see far more wildlife floating down a river in the Kimberley or NT than we did here.

The flight home went without a hitch, with only a 2 hour transfer in KL and an arrival in Perth around 1am.

Would we recommend it? Yes. Great value for money at $4600 for 2 people which included all the airfares, accommodation and most meals.

 

 

Melbourne, Canberra & Sydney – January 2024

February 2, 2024 /

14-21 January  – Australian Open Tennis

We headed to Melbourne for the annual bout of the Australian Open. Melbourne does the event so well that it is hard to say no. The organisation is amazing, the tennis fabulous and almost everything is affordable, except for the drinks of course. We chose to fly Virgin and found it much changed since Covid. The positive is that the flight left on time. However, the food offerings were very limited and very poor value for money. The entertainment system is a WiFi based bring your own device, whcih it always was, but it used to work. Ours didn’t doing everything except allowing a press on the PLAY button. Luckily, we had brought our own downloads. The Skybus from the airport to Southern Cross Sation still works well and we were soon on the train to our accomodation.

We organised an AirBnB in Murrumbeena, south of the city and only a 300m walk to a train station on a line that took us direct to Richmond station for the tennis. It was a basic place, a little small, but having all the neccessary things for comfort. The biggest issue is with Murrumbeena itself. The place is dead. There is no supermarket and most of the shops are shut, even boarded up in some cases. It is a mystery as to why it is like this because the next train stop down the line is Carnegie and supports a bustling and vibrant restaurant and cafe strip that is never empty. We had to walk about a kilometre down the road to shop.

We organised three days of tennis, booking tickets in the John Cain Arena for each day. John Cain is excellent value, because reserved seats on the ends which are in permanent shade are only a little more than a day pass. Between that and a selection of matches on outside courts that don’t require booking, we saw many of the Aussie stars in action along with some big name international players. It was excellent tennis. 

John Cain Arena

Kia Arena

In off tennis days, we wandered around Melbounre, had lunch at Mr San Ramen (a favourtie), travelled down to Mornington on the train to catch up with Azba and Mike (and Evie of course) and caught up with Simon and John in Brunswick. A highlight was going to an iMax version of the Queen Rock Montreal Concert of 1981. It was a memorable experience.

Mr San Ramen

No visit to Melbourne ever fails to impress. The transport system works a treat and is cheap, the food offerings are amazing and so varied that every taste is satisfied, while the organisation of sporting events is superb. The weather is usually the downside, but we were lucky and had mostly mild temperatures with only one day of rain.

 

 

Train Trip Melbourne to Canberra

With Week One of the Australian Open over, it was time for us to relocate to Canberra for the U14 Regional Softball Championships, starring the gorgeous granddaughter Kelsie. We shunned air travel and opted for the XPT daytime train Melbourne to Sydney. It does not stop in Canberra but gets close in Yass, with a one hour coach transfer to the nation’s capital. The trip was wonderful, with good scenery, a comfortable train, and a buffet car for snacks and meals. The trip takes 8 hours, quite long by world standards but there are frequent stops along the way. We added an extra 80 minutes due to a delay shortley out of Melbourne when someone had stolen the copper wire feeding the signals. We had to wait for two oncoming trains before proceeding at a slow speed for 20 kms. Despite the long journey, we were never bored, watching the scenery glide by, dozing a little, or watching some downloads. The train is 40 years old and lacks such things as wifi or usb charging ports. Fortunately, we were prepared and had charging pads and fully charged laptops. The ride was smooth on the Victorian side, less so once into NSW. At one point, passing throough some hilly country and climbing up, the train passed through a tunnel, then looped around and passed back over the tunnel again a couple of times as it gained altitude. It is a trip we could recommend and much better than flying if time is not an issue.

The coach transfer from Yass to canberra Central was not so comortable, with hard cramped seats and no noticeable suspension. At least it was only an hour so we were soon in Canberra and into an Uber for transfer to our AirBnB house in Hawker. The house was chosen for its closeness to the Hawker Softball Centre and its ability to accomodate us, Trevor, Emma and Ashton, as well as Simon and John who were flying up from Melbourne. Trevor and Emma arrived shortly after us and we gathered some supplies from the nearby Woolworths before settling in for the night.

24-28 January – U14 Regional Softball Championships – Canberra

The first day was a rest day for us spectators while the team settled in and familiarised themselves with the diamonds. The team is staying in cabins in a caravan park somewhere, so contact is limited to a few brief moments after games, just as it should be. Coach coaches, family watches and supports. Trevor and Emma met up with Rob Keane, a friend from high school days and now living in Canberra who offered the use of a car for our stay, an offer we gladly took up, the public transport being ordinary at best. We organised to retrieve the car while the others headed out to cover some of the ‘must see’ attractions in Canberra, something we did not need to do because of previous visits. The car would be particularly useful because the shops, although close by, are at the bottom of a steep hill, requiring a tough walk back carrying supplies. Simon and John arrived around midday and settled in, our group complete.

The rest of the week was all about softball, with each day revolving around the scheduled matches. Trev and Em and Ashton managed a few more sights in down times and we did take one trip into town, finding it just as dead and dull as we have in previous visits. The softball was great fun, the standard being so much higher than the normal club matches. Kelsie was brilliant, fielding very well at 2nd base and more than holding her own with the bat.

Trevor summarised each day on his Facebook posts.

Day 1. Great day from the girls – took NSW Sky down to the wire, going down by one with a series of great defensive plays. They got the bats going in game 2, winning by 10 over ACT. Great to see them putting what they’ve learnt in their training into action on the diamond! Kelsie was clean in the field and had a solid day with the bat, particularly in game 2!

Day 2.  Another 1-1 day, with a great win over SA as we got on top of their best pitcher early with some power hitting. A loss to NSW Navy was a good learning curve, and the girls will be stronger having faced some quicker pitchers. Kelsie has a great hit to RF but was caught, a mixed bag at 2nd and a rest for the majority of the NSW game. Sitting 4th after day 2 with VIC and QLD Metro to come on Day 3!

Day 3. Began with a win against Vic, although not overly convincing. Then played a great game against QLD Metro, but going down by one, 7-6. It leaves us needing a win against QLD Country tomorrow and NSW Sky beating SA to make the top 4. The girls will give it everything. Kelsie’s had a great day with the bat, and was flawless in the field. She has also destroyed two socks and plenty of bark off her knees and elbows as her compulsive sliding and diving habits continue…

Day 4. Great victory today, and things fell our way! We are into the minor semi (3vs4) tonight at 7pm EDST (4pm WST), with the prize a spot in the preliminary final tomorrow! Kelsie was great in the field at 2nd base, and did her bit with the bat. Had a nice hit that was caught at CF.

Unfortunately, we lost the Elimination Final against Queensland Metro by a narrow margin, putting us out. THe girls played a terrific game and Kelsie excelled, taking two amazing catches and a couple of excellent takes at 1st Base. The girls can be rightfully proud of their performance across the carnival. The parents and families certainly were impressed with the dedication and effort of all the team members.

Australia vs South Africa – Women’s T20 International

With a lay day to to not making the Preliminary Final, we took the chance to go to the cricket at Marnuka Oval. With a small crowd of around 2000, good seats were easy to find and excellent value at $20. Unfortunately, the cricket was not so good, with a lack lustre performance by Australia and an easy win to South Africa, their first after a 6-0 head to head. It was a relaxing day, compared to the tension of watching close fought softball matches all week.

29-30 January – Train to Sydney

With the softball over, we all went our different ways, Trevor and Em to Perth via Sydney, John direct to Perth on the same flight as the team, Simon to Melbourne on the Sunday and us to Sydney via the Southern Explorer, run by NSW Railways. It is a four hour trip through the Southern Highlands and offeres some scenic delights. There are vast areas of woodlands, beautiful farmlands and a number of quaint small towns, as well as a couple of regional centres such as Goulburn and Bowral. It was a comfortable and enjoyable trip, and not overly time consuming when one takes into account the requirements of air travel and the convenience of finishing the trip at Sydney Central Station, only a short walk from our accomodation. We stayed at the Wyndham Hotel, which features rooms with a kitchenette, allowing basic meal preparation. It is very well appointed, if not a tad small, but is very well located witht the Museum underground station 300m away.

Once settled in, we headed out to catch the underground to Circular Quay for a ferry to Manly. When in Sydney, fish and chips at Manly is a must do, and the perfect weather made sitting by the water at sunset enjoying a feed a wonderful experience, except for overeating. When will we learn that one serve shared is enough for us these days?

The next day was a full day to sight see. It started out wet, but the weather steadily improved and gave us plenty of time to walk. We followed a chain of parks, starting at Hyde Park, and followed through the Royal Botanic Gardens on a series of pathways that would lead us to the Opera House. The BOtanic Gardens are a must visit location in Sydney, with beautiful plam groves, garden beds and ferneries. At one point, we passed a bench and there was a very classy looking Italian leather handbag lying abandoned. There was no one around so Christine guarded it while I set off to find a staff member for help. I soon found a gardener, who radioed for a ranger. Hopefully, someone’s bad day would turn out for the better.

As we neared the Opera House, I was stunned at how small it looked. However, it turned out to be an illusion caused by our elevated approach, and once down at ground level, it assumed its imposing look once again. The walk around to Circular Quay was crowded with tourists from a large P&O cruise ship in port. We stopped at a cafe to have an iced coffee and watch the passing parade. We had planned to catch the ferry to Parramatta, just for the ride and to see the sight of the middle and upper harbour. By the time we got to the correct wharf, we found we had over an hour to wait, so we grabbed a kebab (shared this time) for lunch while waiting. A check of the timetable revealed that the trip to Parramatta would be 3 hours return, so we changed instead to the ferry to Pyrmont Bay (Darling Harbour) via Luna Park and Balmain. The views were spectacular, and at $2.50, would have to be the best value harbour cruise anywhere in the world. We just stayed on the ferry and returned to Circular Quay and an underground back. A wonderful day.

This has been our fourth visit to Sydney and our best, even though very short. Every other time has been hot or we have had somewhere we had to be but this time we got to just walk and and sit on ferries. The central streets of Sydney hold little appeal. The open spaces, beaces, parks and harbour are all delightful.

Tomorrow, it is a flight home. It is an easy train ride from Museum Station to the airport with our backpacks at a civilised time of 10am so things are working out well. Hopefully, the flight won’t be cancelled.  Note: THe train to the airport took about half an hour, including the walk, and the plane was on time. We caught a train to Kinglsey to get home.

 

 

 

Grenoble, Dijon and Strasbourg, 2023

July 18, 2023 /

9-11 July – Grenoble, France – We thought our train trip from Toulon to Avignon was bad. Today’s bus trip from Avignon to Grenoble was as bad, if not worse. While we were waiting for a local bus, Christine got a text message to say “Sorry, but your Flixbus has been cancelled. You can have a refund, or book another one free of charge.” We checked on the App and the next bus was not until 2:25pm, two hours later than the first. No big deal, except for a longer wait. We booked the next bus and rode out to Le Pontet. We couldn’t quite believe the scene. No big bus station with shade and seats; just four lanes for buses, each with a tiny glass shelter. A tiny forlorn sign said “Flixbus”. The temperature was already around 35 degrees and we faced a couple of hours wait. A short walk towards a nearby lake yielded a park bench under a tree. Luxury! The lake proved to be a cable water ski park so there was some entertainment. Then Christine noticed on the App that the new bus was now delayed by an hour and a half, giving it a 4pm time and a 7pm arrival. This was awful. I noticed that there was also a sign for BlaBlaCar, another bus company. We checked and they had a bus listed for 12:35, so we booked it, either prepared to wear the 50€ from the re-booked Flixbus or try to reclaim it somehow. At 12:10, a different bus with AO written on it arrived so I went up to check. Sure enough, it had “Flixbus” written on a piece of cardboard in the windscreen along with “Grenoble”. I checked and, sure enough, this was our “cancelled” bus. I tried to explain, but they wanted to see a ticket and our ticket was no longer on the App. They said, “No ticket, can’t do.” I walked off, very frustrated. After a few minutes, the driver called us back. He had a young woman in tow who spoke English. We managed to produce a text message saying the first bus was cancelled, so they took that as enough proof and let us on the bus. Christine then started work on a refund for the second Flixbus, finally getting a promise of one, after much texting.   Travel in France is not going well.

Grenoble itself proved to be very beautiful. The city is in a deep valley on the junction of the Drac and Isere Rivers, surrounded by the Alps. The prominent feature is the Chartreuse Massive, immediately overlooking the city. In the distance, the higher peaks, including Mt Blanc, still had scattered patches of snow on them, although the searing heat of the next week would no doubt account for that.

Our apartment was in the Quartier Lafayette, right in the middle of the old town, a cluster of walking streets, plazas and cobbled alleyways. The nightlife was vibrant, although not disturbing. Our apartment was in a building that was originally a 15th Century Hotel and some of the features had not really been updated since then. Unfortunately, the claim on the AirBnB site that it had air-conditioning proved to be false; it had a small water cooled thing, that worked passably once I had pulled the filters out and got rid of years of accumulated gunge. Still, it was a matter of careful management of the windows, blinds and curtains to keep the apartment bearable as the daily temperatures soared above 37 degrees each day.

The River Isere (top) and the Jardin de Ville (below)

Arriving on a Sunday, everything was very quiet, with few of the numerous eateries open. A nearby bar did sell drinks and the odd snack so we relaxed there, before finding a small supermarket. We found that Monday was also quiet, with many attractions closed and only about half the eateries open. There is also a prolonged siesta period from about 2pm to 6pm, the hottest part of the day so much of the time was spent in the apartment trying to keep cool. People in Grenoble spend a lot of the day doing nothing.

We did take a cable car up the mountain to the Bastille, a 19th Century fort built above the city. The car consists of five plexiglass bubbles, each taking six passengers. We got a superb view of the city and the river as we rose up, the old part of the city standing out with its terracotta roof tiles compared to the glass and cement of the newer city. The Cours de Jen Jaures was a feature, Europe’s longest straight avenue at 8kms long. From the Bastion, we could just make out Mt Blanc to the east, the visibility being a bit down, but the Chartreuse and other massives could be seen clearly in all their glory. The ride down somehow seemed quicker, not possible really, but in no time we were back at street level.

Our GPSMyCity App gave us some features to look for and we spent a pleasant time wandering the streets, although we could feel the heat rising as the day wore on. The Jardin de Ville was a pleasant park to sit in and watch the world pass by. The park was being set up for some kind of performance, with marquees and a large stage area. Working our way through the posters, all in French, revealed a pop music festival each night for five days starting tonight. Best of all, it was free.

Views from the Bastion, with the Chartreuse Massive bottom left

With the heat getting a bit much, we grabbed a beer in the square near our apartment before retiring for the day in front of the water cooler and Netflix. When the evening came, the temperature drops a few degrees and we set off back to the Jardin de Ville for the music. There was a fair crowd and a line of food trucks, along with a large bar area. It is terrific to see a well organised event being put on for free, and to see the crowd being well behaved. However, the music was not really to our liking, and exceedingly loud, so we spent a bit of time there, a bit more wandering, then back to the apartment and Netflix. The square outside was packed with people seeking to escape the heat. Air-conditioners seem rare, especially in the old parts of the city, where installation is difficult. When I got up to go to the loo around 1am, the crowd had hardly diminished. Fortunately, double glazing and wooden shutters keep the noise out.

Our second full day was even hotter, the temperature soaring to 39 degrees. We seemed to have exhausted the possibilities for the town, having seen most things, and even a check at the Tourist Bureau failed to find more. The old town area is so pretty that just walking is enough in itself, except in the heat that we were experiencing. Amazingly, as we headed down Rue Lafayette with our bags towards the train station the next morning, a little tourist train like the one in Avignon and Toulon came around the corner. We had not found any mention of it anywhere.

Grenoble is serviced with an excellent tram.
The concert at the Jardin de Ville

Grenoble is a very pretty and laid back city. Its tram system is easy to use and very regular, making moving around easy. There are plazas and cafes everywhere. If the weather had been kinder to us, we would have had a much better time.

12-14 July – Dijon – We took a Flixbus to Dijon, requiring a change of buses in Lyon. After our dreadful experience with Flixbus in Avignon, we were wary, but things went well. The change in Lyon was only 50 minutes, which was good because there was little to recommend the bus station in Lyon. There is a large inside area with shops and eateries, most of which were closed. It looked like the cleaning staff had been laid off some months ago and the overwhelming stench of urine in the bus loading area told of its use by the homeless when the bus stands are closed after midnight. It would be a good place for the local fire brigade to practice hosing things down. Once we got on the second bus at Lyon, the smell changed to vomit and there was a sign on the toilet door saying it was closed, suggesting someone had an unfortunate ride before the bus got to Lyon.

Apart from all that, the trip was smooth, the bus sticking to large motorways. It mostly followed the Rhone Valley, with vineyards and fruit orchards mixing it with cereal crops. In the one vista, it is possible to see wheat, barley, oats and sunflowers, alongside fields of grazing cattle. The variety of agriculture is amazing after the wheatbelt of WA. In some cases, the farms can manage two crops in a season, so I saw an instance of a seeder working a paddock alongside another field of golden barley, ready for harvest.

We had booked an apartment right outside the Gare de Dijon Ville, a bit of a risk, as the areas surrounding central train stations can be rather poor and dirty. The reviews suggested the only issue was noise at night from the trains, something that never bothers us. The reviews were right, the area is clean, interesting and so convenient. The Flixbus dropped us in front of the station, we  walked through a tunnel under the train line, across the road and we were home, a neat two bedroom apartment with good facilities, except for a crazy bathroom. The bathroom and toilet were separate, but the doors opened against each other, so to move from one to another, you had to squeeze out of the toilet, close one door, open the bathroom door and squeeze around into the bathroom.

After unpacking, we walked 400m down the road to a small supermarket which supplied the basics, then back to a restaurant/bar across the corner that had a very friendly owner and a lovely cold beer. The temperature was a very nice 28 degrees. All was good with the world again.

A walk into the centre of town the next morning was a delight. One of the symbols of Dijon is an owl, after a small statue on one corner of Notre Dame Cathedral that carries the usual promises of good health etc is you hold it with your left hand while placing your right hand over your heart. They have an “owl” walking trail made with lovely little brass plaques imbedded in the sidewalk so we purchased a booklet for 4€ at the Tourist Bureau and followed the trail for most of it, reading about the various features. We stopped in one area that was surrounded by glorious 15th Century buildings. The fact that we can still describe 15th Century buildings as ‘glorious’ after three months is testimony to them. We sat at a café and ordered orange juice, but nothing on the food menu appealed, that is, until I saw the woman next to us get served a toasted sandwich that looked like heaven on a plate. I called the waiter back and asked for the menu again, then basically said, “I’ll have what she had”. We shared a fried ham and cheese sandwich, with bread sliced about 2cm thick, filled with crème fraiche and served on a bed of lettuce with a scoop of chilled crème fraiche. It was amazing. A simple dish made into something special. We later found that this kind of sandwich is called a “croque” and is like “pub grub” in this part of France.

Les Halles (Market) is at bottom

On our way home, we went back to Le Halles, a large covered market that we had walked through earlier. Although mostly closed, the stand we wanted was still open, the lady cleaning the benches. We bought a large pastie looking thing that had caught our eye, with thick pastry encasing pork, legumes, cheese and vegetables.  By the time we had done the circuit and arrived back home, we had walked nearly 6kms, a good effort and a hedge against the lunch and the thing we had purchased for dinner that night.

On our second day, we walked down to Lack Kir, a small reservoir about 1.5kms away. The rivers around Dijon have long since been totally tamed and made into canals with small weirs to control the flow and locks on the canals. There is a canal port of sorts a little way out of the town centre with barges and canal boats. Lake Kir is a popular recreation park and has a nice sand beach for swimming, along with attendant life-guards in a tower and beach changing huts, all very European. We expected a big crowd, with the day being the French National Day, 14th July, or Bastille Day as the rest of the world calls it. The crowd was not there, although there were a lot of crowd control fences ready to deploy and a lot of workers getting the place ready for the evening onslaught. The lake had been chosen as the site for the fireworks so a big crowd was certain.

Dijon Beach, not exactly Bondi

We sat for a while enjoying the tranquillity and the cool breeze, a rare thing lately, and watched the joggers, prams and elderly all pass by. I am sure that people-watching burns calories. When it was time to head home, we ignored Google and followed the river, there being a formed trail along the banks. It was a beautiful walk, passing several weirs. We stopped a number of times to watch the fish, later identified as roach and tench, glide around amongst the lily pads. We saw one angler, working the river unsuccessfully with a small lure.  It was a surprise when our lovely walk brought us within a hundred metres of the local supermarket, a wonderful way of getting back to the apartment.

Dijon has been a very relaxing city, and one of the easiest to move around in. We probably took the architecture for granted, having seen so much over three months, but there is much to admire, more on a small scale than the large grandiose centres we have admired in other cities. We push on now to our last stop, Strasbourg.

15-17 July, Strasbourg, France – The train trip to Strasbourg from Dijon took three and a half hours, was very crowded, and horribly expensive at close to $A100 each. We assume the expense is down to the National Holiday Weekend, with many people travelling. All seats were taken and finding room for baggage was a challenge, with more people than usual having large suitcases. Other than those issues, the time passed easily and relatively peacefully.

Strasbourg in a white winter

Emerging from the station at Strasbourg is like entering a fairyland. There are gorgeous stone buildings and medieval half-timbered houses galore, lovely canals and wide pedestrian-only streets take up most of the CBD. It is one of Europe’s most favoured Christmas destinations, and it is easy to see why, with every streetscape resembling a Christmas Card. Pictures of the old city after a snow-fall are enough to tempt us back in the winter.

It was about a kilometre walk to our apartment, and we kept stopping every few hundred metres to say “Oh, look at that!” as each scene unfolded. After three months, we have declared our last city on our trip the most photogenic yet, surpassing even York and Lincoln. Our apartment was situated between to main thoroughfares, with a little courtyard and bar/restaurant outside.  The night noise was not too bad, certainly once the windows were closed and the ear plugs in, and the interesting daily life of the alfresco bar was good people-watching stuff. The apartment had a toaster, excellent coffee machine and a fan. Perfect.

After unpacking, we headed downstairs for a croque, the type of toasted sandwich we discovered in Dijon, made with very thick bread, cheese and ham, topped with more cheese and bechamel sauce then oven baked so everything melts and slightly chars. I am sure they are very good for you. Of course, a beer lubricated it. Then we had a bit of a kip, before heading out later in the evening for some sightseeing. Nearby is the star attraction of Strasbourg, an area called La Petit France (Little France). The area dates from the 15th Century and was once very much a trades area, with tanning, metal works and milling all being important, the steady and reliable flow of the River Ill providing lots of water power for the mills. It also formed the front line of city defences, with the river and canal creating effective moats, protected by walls and fortresses. Despite changing allegiances many times throughout history as the fortunes of the Papacy, Holy Roman Empire, French Empire and German expansions ebbed and flowed, the city was seldom over-run.

La Petite France is breath-taking in its beauty. It is like being in a fairytale land, with crooked lopsided buildings and gorgeous stone arched bridges. The crowds were heavy, and the sidewalk cafes were really cashing in. People were stopping all the time for selfies or group photos. It was a lot of fun.

La Petite France

The next morning we walked the other direction to Notre dame Square to take a Little Train Tour. After seeing so many great cathedrals in our time in Europe and UK, it was a little surprising to be so taken aback by the sight of the cathedral as we rounded the corner. Perhaps it is the glorious pink sandstone that does it, of the sheer extravagance of the embellishments that adorn every surface. It is one of the best. For a long time, it was Europe’s tallest building, the spire being a landmark all over the city.

Views of Notre Dame

The square was packed with tourists, a huge line waiting for entrance to the cathedral, the main attraction being the 330 step climb up the spire to get good views of the city. The line put us off, even though I am sure the climb would have been easy. We boarded the train, only 8€ f6r 45 minutes, and waited, chatting to a NZ couple who are currently living in Switzerland. Suddenly, there was a large influx of people, all from a Viking River Cruise, and they packed the train, turning a very comfortable jaunt into a cramped affair. The route followed much the same path we had walked the previous night, but the English commentary gave us insight into what we encountered. The narrow streets were even more crowded than before, and the train had to do a lot of ‘tooting’. Many of the people seemed to be off the cruise boat, waving to others they knew on our tour. Strasbourg is pretty much the beginning (or end) of Rhine Cruising, the Rhine being on the outer suburb of the city, and forming the border with Germany. It is wonderful to think that when we take the bus ride to Frankfurt in a few days, we will have pretty much covered the length of the navigable part of the Rhine on this trip.

La Petite France

From the Little Train, we made our way down to the pier landing to catch another tour, this time with Batorama on a canal boat. We chose the open type boat and the longer tour, taking in a circuit of the old city, and another tour through the Neustadt, or new city, built by the Germans when they took control of the city in the later 19th Century. The tour of La Petite France, our third, was so different, because of the change in perspective. The structure of the canals and the shape of the river became more apparent, and we negotiated locks both upstream and downstream along the way. It was very peaceful (I nearly nodded off a couple of times) and we gained more knowledge. The Neustadt area is filled with grand stone buildings with a distinctly German character, then further down river, the ultra modern European Government sections, with huge glass-steel buildings, dominate the river and skyline. Strasbourg is the home of the European Court of Justice, the highest authority in the EU.

The EU buildings in Neustad

All toured out for a while, we headed home for lunch, and a little nap, before going out again in the evening. We found we had misjudged the Sunday, the supermarkets all closing up at 1pm, so dinner had to be eaten out, a rare thing for us. Hankering after a pizza, we searched many places without luck. It seems the French don’t run to pizza, offering Tarte Flambe, a pizza like dish from Alsace, but much thinner than the Italian dish. We finally located an Italian Pizzaria and shared a delicious Calzone, a pizza-like dish that is turned over on itself like a pastie and baked. We were in heaven.

Our final day in Strasbourg is really our last day of our amazing European trip, barring the last leg of a Flixbus trip north back to Frankfurt for the flight home. We did a crawl through the many tourist shops surrounding Notre Dame Square to make sure the grandchildren all had their little gifts from Gran and Pop and took a tram ride out to where the Intercity Bus Station to ensure that it was a nice place to wait for a bus (which it was). We walked a bit, ate a bit, drank a bit, and generally did what we have been doing for three wonderful months. We are both ready for home (maybe not the icy cold weather we keep hearing about) but we have enjoyed every minute of this amazing trip.

 

Provence, France, July 2023

July 13, 2023 /

3rdto 5th July – Stansted to Toulon – The flight from Stansted in the UK was pretty much as expected, awful. There seem to be systems in place at Stansted Airport to make people walk as far as possible to get on a plane, and there is a great deal of lining up to do. We paid extra to get ‘fast-tracked’ through security and immigration, but that it a relative term. It was off-putting to stand in the ‘Fast-Track’ queue and watch other people walk through the normal gates alongside us. The plane was half an hour late taking off, but it didn’t get cancelled, so that was something. We had a toasted roll on the plane, mine was too hot to touch on the outside and semi-frozen in the middle. Ah well, you get what you pay for and Ryan Air is quite cheap.

At Marseille Airport, immigration breezed us through very quickly. I really don’t think they looked at us or the passport at all, it was just stamped. The lack of any signage at all made it difficult to find the bus that took us to the Airport Station, about 4kms away, where and got on a train for Marseille. There we waited for around an hour before catching another train to Toulon.

Toulon surprised us when we exited the station to a spacious and very clean plaza. We had one long street to walk down and soon found our apartment. It was a bit of a dive, comfortable enough, but not one of our better choices, with a spiral staircase that looked like it was made in the 15th Century, a bed threatened to suffocate us we fell into it so far, and, worst of all, no toaster. On the other hand, the location was excellent, with easy access to the shopping areas, the medieval part of the city filled with plazas and cafes, and the beautiful port area. Toulon boasts that it has the prettiest harbour in Europe, and it may well do, because it is certainly attractive. It is busy too, with large sea-going ferries heading to Corsica and Sardinia. It is France’s main naval base, with the huge nuclear powered carrier Charles DeGaulle home ported there. Small cross-harbour ferries are very regular, and there appeared to be a number of marinas and resorts on the other side.

We settled in to the apartment and headed out to find some refreshment and a supermarket. We found the first one in a pretty little plaza, with a fountain bubbling away. There are plazas everywhere in the old part of the city, most filled with alfresco cafes and having a fountain of sorts. I assume the large number of fountains comes from the abundance of groundwater, the surrounding nearby mountains being limestone and therefore a good soak and storage for a water supply. We sat a little too long and enjoyed two beers, but the supermarket finally drew us away. While shopping, we met a young Australian couple who have been travelling for 7 months. They had been in Marseille and said the rioting there made it quite uncomfortable, affirming our decision to change our stay to Toulon.

The next morning, we set off to wander the plazas and beautiful walking streets of the old town. There are many grand stone buildings, including the large Opera House, and a great many medieval apartment houses, tucked into tiny alleyways. The streets are easy to walk on and clean, a rare find in Europe. Our walk took us down to the port area, where we spied the little Toulon Tourist Street Train. It looked like a bargain at 8€ each for an hour of commentary tour. It was a terrific way to get a snapshot look at Toulon, taking us along the port and explaining the various parts, the local and inter-island ferries, the naval bases and old ship building areas. We did a tour of the Mourillon Beaches, a series of four beautiful beaches that looked very inviting. We also got a good idea of the layout of the commercial and shopping districts, surprised at just how extensive the city is, and how busy, away from the relative quiet of the historical centre with its lack of cars.

Top – a strange but beautiful ending to a building
Bottom – One of the beautiful beaches

Once back at the port, we headed for a seafront restaurant offering Moulles et Frit (Mussels and Fries) in a variety of flavours. Christine chose a basil and goats cheese base while I went for a carbonara base. Two huge tureens of mussels arrived with sides of frits and bread to soak up the juices. We filled our bellies while watching the ferries come and go and the interesting passing parade of people. The rising heat sent us back home for the day, venturing forth a little later to pick up a small pizza for dinner.

Top – Moulles et Frits
Bottom – one of the big ferries to Corsica and Sardinia

On our last day, we set off to investigate the Lafayette Market, a street market that runs along Cours Lafayette for four blocks. It is mostly fresh fruit and veg, all of superb quality, and it explains why the offerings in the nearby supermarkets are so scant, with the market running in the morning six days a week. Christine did manage to find some casual shorts at the clothes stalls. We were also excited to spy a little cart, selling a local street snack called cade. We had been on the lookout because it sounded interesting. Cade is basically a thick pancake made of chickpea flour, salt and water, then fried on a hot griddle to give slightly charred surface. It was delicious and makes the perfect snack to eat while wandering the streets.

The Tourist Bureau is at the port end of Cours Lafayette and from there we bought an all day bus pass, enabling us to take the #40 bus up the mountain to the cable car station. A two car system runs up to the top of Mount Faron, 584m above the city and is part of the public transport system and so included in the all day ticket. The car was rather crowded on the way up and there were the usual gasps and concerned looks when the car first took off and bounced a little on the cable. An interesting feature was the panel of glass in the floor of the car, especially when we were passing over an area of housing. The ride certainly produced the views we were hoping for, being able to see right across the harbour to the small resort towns opposite. There are a few walk trails and eateries at the top, but little was open, except for the restaurant and café at the cable station. We just enjoyed the view over an orange juice, soaking up the cooling breeze and the scenery. The trip down was better, with only a few people in the car, so we were able to pick out the scenes we wanted to focus on.

In the afternoon, we had planned a bus ride to the beaches, but after a siesta, we emerged to find a very fresh breeze had come in, that would have been onshore, so we abandoned the idea.  We have thoroughly enjoyed our short time in Toulon and regret that we did not have longer. What we have seen of the French Riviera looks wonderful, and it could entice us back some time to explore more of this interesting coast.

 

6 July Toulon to Avignon – We had our first big travel error today. We got to Toulon Station with no issues and waited for a track announcement for our train to Marseille with a transfer to Avignon. When it came time to board, we headed for the gate and the lady scanned our e-tickets. No! We got a barred entry. She checked the tickets; right train so tried again. Tried to do a manual thing via the web site but no go. Finally, she called another person for assistance, who straight away noticed the problem. Our ticket was for 7th of July, not 6th of July. Damn! They suggested we head for a ticket machine or go online to see if we could change the date. Off we went, first to the ticket office where the man explained that he could not change a ticket, we needed to do it online. We went to an online machine and tried, getting some assistance to change it but it proved hopeless, the only offering was to take a 1st class ticket change for more than a new ticket would cost. We had to swallow the 68€ cost and buy new tickets. We went back to the ticket office where the man explained that he could not sell us a ticket, we had to buy it online (I’m not sure what he COULD do). With time ticking down, Christine secured two new tickets online and we headed for the gate. Just as we approached it, with 10 minutes to spare and quite a few other people, they closed the gate. That action was followed by lots of shouting and some people just pushing past the ticket inspectors towards the train. They shouted back. We found a sympathetic person who looked like she would let us get on, but again, our tickets refused to validate. Finally, after much exasperation, it was discovered that Christine had purchased tickets on another, slower train, departing from Platform C, not Platform A. We headed off towards Platform C, which required no ticket inspectors of any kind and got on the train. I am sure the French think there is a system but in reality, there is none. We have never had a ticket checked on a train in France and we probably could have saved a lot of money by just getting on the Platform C train.

Fortunately, the change of trains in Marseilles went smoothly and we were on our way to Avignon, running along the shores of Marseilles for a while. The sea was dead flat and it all looked very inviting, with lots of yachts and a couple of cruise ships in port. Hopefully, we have seen the end of the civil disturbances, although French authorities have issued warnings for July 14&15, the French National Bastille Day.

The arrival at Avignon was easy, that is, until we exited the station. We had received instructions from our host that we could catch the #5 bus from the Post Office, just inside the city walls. The city walls presented across the road from the station, the only trouble being that the station plaza had been dug up completely and a makeshift walkway led to the road, the long way round. We crossed the road, made our way back up to the gate and through the walls, which were quite spectacular but we are rather used to amazing city walls by now. We found the stop for bus 5 and settled down to wait. I saw a sign in French that I interpreted as saying the bus stop outside the station would cease to operate as of tomorrow. A local woman confirmed my reading of it, but expressed a worry that there weren’t any buses coming. Eventually, she went off to check and came back telling us that we had to move to the train station stop. We followed her, and waited a long time, before finally catching the bus. We crossed the Rhone River and the bus dropped us in the historic town of Villeneuve les Avignon at a stop right outside our accommodation. By the time we got inside, we were quite exhausted from what had been a really horrible day of travel. Wherever possible, we will stick to coach travel from now on, the cost and crazy service of the French trains being too much for us.

The apartment was very comfortable and cool, a blessing since the heat outside had risen to around 32ºC. We walked down through the village to a small market store to get something for dinner and had a beer at the Aubergine Restaurant in the Central Square. The village is very beautiful, all old stone buildings. Villeneuve les Avignon sits opposite Avignon across the Rhone River. When a bridge was finally built over the river around 1300AD a tower on the Villeneuve side controlled access and the city gained power. It became even more important when the Popes relocated from Rome to Avignon for much of the 14th Century and many Cardinals built palaces in Villeneuve. There was quite a power struggle between the King of France and the Papacy that involved the two towns as a face-off point. All this has resulted in a glorious hilltop town with some very famous buildings, the most dominant of which is the Fort of the Abbot, The Fort of Saint Andre, a huge bastion that overlooks the town. The Chartreuse, another famous complex within the town is a former Carthusian Monastery. It all made for a wonderful place to stroll, shop, and seek refreshment.

The Fort of the Abbot, Tower Phillip le Bel, antiques market

On Saturday morning, an enormous antiques market was held in the front of the town, with hundreds of sellers displaying an amazing variety of goods, from old furniture to pieces of armour and old weapons, antique jewellery, and a great many paintings. We wandered up and down the stalls, seeing many very interesting items, but fortunately, having no means of transporting anything so buying nothing. It was a good thing really.

The town square and courtyard of the Chartreuse

We spent a day in Avignon, using the bus to travel the 4kms back into the city. The bus dropped us at the Porte d’Oulle. Avignon is one of the few French cities with a medieval wall still intact and much of the city it encloses is still composed of medieval buildings. The heat was starting to climb so a tree covered line of cafes enticed us to sit for a while with an orange juice. It took two places to get served, the first woman glaring at us like we were poison and preferring to wipe down tables rather than approach us. When three young men who came in and sat down were immediately served, we took the hint and left. The next place was fine.

Nearby, a TV crew was set up and doing an interview with a woman seated at a table. There was also a ticket booth nearby and a lot of billboard posters advertising various performances of comedy, dance and theatre acts. We managed to work out that the Festival Off, an annual arts festival, was beginning the following day and promotion was in full swing. Everywhere we went, walls were smothered in advertising and groups of performers travelled around the city advertising their productions with little pop-up theatre acts. There was operatic singing, acrobatic performances, tap dancing, mime, and groups in period costume (no doubt feeling wonderful in the heat). It was endless and we had trouble refusing the numerous flyers being thrust into our hands, knowing that they would just head for the rubbish bin.

The two level carousel, a wall full of flyers for the festival and the city walls

We made our way through the city to the Place du Palais, a large plaza that is the centre piece of the old city. It is overlooked by the Palais du Popes, where seven Popes lived during 14th Century. A tourist train runs from there every half hour or so but it had already filled, so we walked back down the nearby Place de l’Horloge watching more street theatre and the marvellous carousel, the only two level carousel we have seen.

Back to the Palais du Popes, we boarded the train, finding ourselves sitting in front of a family from Sydney and so we compared travel notes. The trains are the best way of quickly touring small cities, especially medieval ones with their narrow streets. The ride took us high up the hill above the Palais du Popes to the Garden area (Jardin des Doms) to get some panoramic views of the river and beyond. We got some great views of Villeneuve across the river and the famous Bridge of Avignon, actually named Pont Saint-Benezet rather than Pont d’Avignon that the famous nursery rhyme refers to. These days, it only crosses half of the narrower arm of the Rhone, the rest of it collapsing back in the 18th Century. The train wove in and out of the walls as it moved from one feature to another and we thoroughly enjoyed an informative hour-long tour.

The Palais du Popes, remains of the Pont d’Avignon and the little tourist train

By the time the tour was over, the heat had risen to around 35ºC so it was time to seek refreshment then head home to the cool. Once again, we stopped at a place, gained the attention of a girl as we sat down and waited. We did talk briefly to an English couple and that must have put the girl off because she ignored us. So did the man that said he would be back, but preferred to clean tables. We must have the wrong clothes on or perhaps these people are still angry about the loss of the submarine contract. Who knows, but we went back to the place where we had orange juice and had a beer.

As we prepare to move on to Grenoble, under the shadow of the Alps and Mont Blanc, we look in horror at the weather forecasts, with the next three days heading up to 38ºC. We anticipated this and made sure we only took apartments with air-conditioning for the rest of our trip north to Frankfurt, our flying out destination.

 

Stansted Mountfitchet and Cambridge

July 6, 2023 /

30 June to 2 July – Stansted Mountfitchet (the last of the UK) – We made our farewells with Phillip and Heather, very sad to be leaving, but needing to push on. We had booked a couple of days in the village of Stansted Mountfitchet in north-west Essex, a convenient stopping off place to access Stansted Airport for a Ryanair flight to Marseille. Our accommodation was an annexe of a home and our host, Carol, very thoughtfully met us at the station and gave us a lift. On the map, it was only a walk of 800m or so but most of that was up a nasty hill, so we were grateful for her help. The annex was lovely and very comfortable, with a small outside area to keep us in touch with nature.

We were soon settled in and found the local Tesco to stock up on food. Carol did warn us that there would be a day long concert behind the house the next day, raising funds for the local school.

The news coming out of France was not good. The riots occurring at night over the police shooting of an African French teenager had escalated, and Marseille and Lyon had experienced overnight street violence. Moreover, the area that we were booked to stay in Marseille looked risky, and the Australian Government had upped their level of warning for travellers. Fortunately, we had only booked AirBnB accommodation that had late cancellation options so we made the decision to cancel both Marseille and Lyon and seek alternatives. We abandoned plans to explore some nearby villages and spent the time on the internet, making bookings. At one point, we thought about abandoning France altogether, and changing the Ryanair flight to Berlin and exploring parts of Germany we have not been to. What a joke! Good old Ryanair wanted $90 more per head to change the ticket compared to ignoring the Marseille flight and buying a new ticket altogether.  They listed the credit for the Marseille flight as $0 and added a $90 rebooking fee. No wonder people complain about them. Finally, we decided to stick with France, but change Marseille to Toulon, and Lyon to Grenoble, choosing less volatile locations.

Our homework done and future assured, we set off to explore the village. The first thing that one notices the age of the place. Many of the buildings date from the 16th Century, and the beautiful, thatched roofs delighted us. The village has both Roman and Saxon origins, as so many do, but this one is listed in the Doomsday Book and has links to the Magna Carta. On our wanderings, we sought out a butcher shop, having a hankering for some lamb chops. It is a hard thing to admit, but English lamb is a hell of a lot better than Australian lamb, in both tenderness and taste. The butcher was a keen fan of Master Chef Australia and we talked through quite a few episodes, carefully avoiding any talk of the cricket. We did try out a pub called “The Cock”, hoping to sit and watch a bit of cricket with some locals. The barmaid couldn’t manage to switch the TV off a soapie, saying she couldn’t find the cricket despite the sign on the wall saying “We Have BT Sports”. I think we were taking her away from her mobile phone too much.

Cambridge – A 40 minute train trip took us back north to Cambridge for the day, it being one of those ‘must see’ places in Britain. As soon as we stepped out of the station, it was clear that thousands of other people thought the same thing. The plaza outside was filled with tourist stands, most selling punting experiences (little boats, not betting). There were taxi touts, punters, audio guide sellers etc. We have not seen much of this tourism frenzy anywhere else, except perhaps in parts of London.

We joined the flowing stream of people along the main road towards the old part of town and the University area, which is the main reason for going to Cambridge. There is a sense of history wandering down the narrow alleyways lined with very old apartment buildings, knowing that many of the great scholars of history have walked the walk and lived in the area. I would like to say that everything is carefully preserved, but sadly, it is not the case. Cambridge presents with dirty streets and very broken pavements. The pot-holes in the streets are the worst we’ve seen. Many of the building look well past the point of important maintenance. Cambridge needs some money spent on infrastructure. Perhaps there are too many residents who don’t pay tax. It was also unfortunate that a couple of the big attractions, in Kings College and the Chapel were closed to the public, presumably for repairs, as there was a fair bit of scaffolding around the chapel. It would have been nice to be able to stroll inside the courtyard of Kings College, but it was worth seeing from the outside, and looked very familiar after seeing it portrayed in so many movies.

A vibrant market was set up in the Market Square, and we enjoyed a bite to eat from a stall, chatting to an Aussie student while we waited, and listening to a better than average busker play and sing while we ate.

The Corpus Clock was a big attraction. Intended more as an artwork than a practical timepiece, the clock’s face is a rippling 24-carat gold-plated stainless steel disc, about 1.5 metres (4.9 ft) in diameter. It has no hands or numerals, but displays the time by opening individual slits in the clock face backlit with blue LEDs; these slits are arranged in three concentric rings displaying hours, minutes, and seconds. A bizarre metal insect sits on top eating up time. The way it works, the clock is only accurate once every five minutes, reflecting life’s irregularity.

Then we made our way down to the punting area to watch the fun. The water was very crowded, with punts heading in all directions. The punts that had professional guides on them looked fine, but the ones where a family had decided to manage their own affairs looked a bit chaotic. One young woman came gliding along on a stand-up paddle board, looking very wet and cold. She tried to berth the board at the quay to get off but couldn’t manage, despite an attendant coming to help her. Eventually, she ended up back in the water. We voted against punting. It was more fun to watch.

We made our way back to the train and rode home, our minds already out of Britain and off to sunny French Riviera, after the horrors of Stansted Airport and Ryan Air that is.

Lake District and Yorkshire Dales

July 6, 2023 /

Many hours spent looking at this picture

26-29 June – The Lake District – Phillip and Heather own a cottage in Underbarrow, a village in the Lake District National Park. They very kindly offered to take us up there for a few days, an offer we jumped at. As a child in primary school, we got a new set of coloured pencils each year. They were the “Lakeland” set, produced by the Columbia and Cumberland Pencil Company. I used to gaze upon the pretty scene of the Lakes District when things got boring in class and always thought it would be a nice place to visit. The brand is now called Derwent and is located in Keswick in the Lakes District. However, I notice from looking at a picture of the old pencil tins that mine were made in Lane Cove, NSW.

The Yorkshire Dales – We drove through some beautiful country along the way, across the Yorkshire Dales. These are wild and bare high hills, not really mountains, but massive nonetheless. They hold a beauty that is hard to describe, but best gleaned from the TV series All Creatures Great and Small. I am not sure I would want to live in such places, especially during the depths of winter, but driving across the Dales is a wonderful experience. The area markets itself on being “Herriot Country” and we stopped in a delightful small village of Askrigg to get a picture of Skeldale House, Siegfried’s house and surgery in the TV series. There was an old car as featured, parked out front, and looking like it hadn’t moved for years.

Yorkshire Dales and Skeldale House (All Creatures Great and Small)

Some of the roads we took were the one lane type common in rural Britain. Here though, getting too far to one side didn’t just contact a soft hedge, there were also dry-stone walls to contend with. Dry-stone walls are an art form across the country, the building techniques varying widely. The ones in North Yorkshire are the neatest yet, with beautifully stacked stones and a line of angled slate-like pieces as a topping. None of the beauty matters if the car is sent crashing into one by an oncoming vehicle. Heather had to brake sharply a number of times and there was a bit of backing up on both sides but we got through without leaving any bits of dry-stone on the car.

The sheep here are very different, mostly Swaledale, a breed of Yorkshire sheep known for their hardiness and meat more than their wool, which is rather coarse and off-coloured. They are a long haired breed and many that we saw had not been shorn, leaving them with long dags of wool and big bare patches where the wool had dropped out. I dubbed them apocalypse sheep because they looked like something out of a zombie movie. The lambs on, on the other hand, are pure cuteness.

A stop at the Wensleydale Creamery for cheese tasting and lunch was well worth it. There is a seemingly endless variety of cheeses on display, all freely available for tasting. We moved through the tasting room, sampling almost everything, except for the blue cheeses, which do little for us. The Wensleydale varieties were very good, and we bought a mild Wensleydale and an interesting Ginger flavoured cheese to have with drinks at the cottage. We were so filled up on cheeses that we kept lunch small.

A very rough representation of our trip. (Yes, I got a bit lost)

Lake District – Once down from the Dales we spent a brief time in the lower country before once again driving into the hilly country towards the Cumbrian Mountains of the Lake District. Britain does not have any high mountains by world standards but many contain enough bulk to be impressive and the geologically recent glaciation of the last ice age has left the valleys wide and rounded.

The cottage proved to be charming, with three comfortable bedrooms and a homely downstairs area. It is one of three dwellings in the building, it being originally a farmhouse and barn, but now converted. Christine never tired of looking out the back windows because they overlooked a field with sheep in it, better looking than the apocalypse sheep, and a few rabbits that loved to play around in the morning hours. She even announced that she liked washing up now because the kitchen overlooked the field. I might get some sheep and rabbits.

The cottage. Search “Orphan Crag” in AirBnB

Phillip and Heather kept us busy, proving the perfect tour guides. Unfortunately, the weather worked hard against them, with some cold and rainy periods. In fact, it was the worst weather yet encountered in Britain, but in a way it enhanced the beauty of the surroundings, producing some lovely mists and low cloud at times. We drove up to the nearby Scout Scar, a long limestone cliff. The scars are a feature of the area and help produce some of the amazing scenery. There is a memorial called the Mushroom on the top of the scar that has a feature showing all the visible features and mountains in a 360º arc. We could only see all but the tops of the highest peaks.

Views from Scout Scar

One day, we went on a tour to see a coupe of the lakes. What else would one do in the Lake District. The closest and largest is Lake Windemere. We drove along the eastern shore seeing the many small settlements and resort towns. The area was generally busy, despite the wet weather, probably with people from tour coaches who have had to go ahead regardless. The numerous watersport facilities were not getting much of a workout, although the temperature did not stop some people from swimming.

At the bottom of the lake, we turned to cross the Newby Bridge. As we passed the Newby Bridge Hotel, the sight of a carpark full of vintage cars caught our interest. We managed to find a parking space and wandered around the cars, admiring everything. The oldest I saw was from 1904. They were part of a rally and most owners were out getting ready for the day. A couple that had no form of rain protection were crying off on this leg. We talked to one couple who had a 1914 Paterson (USA). He told us that he had just purchased another Paterson from Brisbane and was having it shipped over (at horrendous cost). He indicated he had a few other cars and then confessed to owning 11 vintage cars all up. I asked about sourcing tyres for these cars and he said it was mostly off the internet. The ones for his Paterson are in the region of £500 each, and given that the current ones are well worn, it was time to sell the car. This is not a hobby I need.

Vintage car ralley

The next stop was Lakeside, where Lake Windemere empties into the River Leven. Lakeside forms a port for the southern end of the lake and there is a beautiful little steam train running down to the village of Haverthwaite. We rode the train, unable to resist a steam train ride. The carriages were 1950s vintage and done in the old traditional red and cream of British Rail.

The Lakeside to Haverthwaite steam train

We just did the ride down and back, before getting out and visiting the aquarium, next to the station. I assumed that the display would focus on the aquatic life of the local lakes, and although that was represented, there was a lot on display from many parts of the world. We particularly admired the sturgeons, huge fish to have in an aquarium, but only tiny compared to the potential 6m long for a full grown specimen. There was a very good display of the fish of the local marine environment in Humbolt Bay, with many kinds of dogfish, skate and rays. There were a few weird turbots, large white flatfish with both eyes on one side of their head. All in all, a worthwhile stop.

Big Sea Bass and Leopard Sharks

We drove back around and north along the shores of Windemere through Ambleside and up to the little village of Grasmere, on the shores of the lake with the same name. Heather waited in the long queue to purchase some of Grasmere’s famous gingerbread, unlike any other we have tried. It is more like a ginger toffee coated in loose crumbs than a biscuit, but it is quite delicious. Grasmere also boasts the grave of William Wordsworth who described Grasmere as “the loveliest spot that man hath ever found.” While Heather stood in line, we wandered through the Daffodil Park, along a unique pathway of flagstones, each bearing the family name and city of origin of people who donated to the formation of the park. It was very interesting, and we found a few Australian families. I thought this was a great way to create something special and it was very well done.

View from Brantwood over Coniston Water

The drive south took us along the shores of Lake Coniston and through the small town of the same name. By the time we reached home, we were exhausted, but no trip to the region would have been complete without a tour, even though one could spend years exploring the many nooks and crannies of this picturesque part of England. No wonder it is one of the big tourist drawcards.

On our last night at the cottage, we enjoyed a very nice meal at the local “Black Labrador” pub. I can see why the cottage has its attractions for Heather and Phillip. It is a slower pace of life, even though Newark is more downbeat than London. In the lake District, one never ceases to be in touch with nature and the weather, and, in my opinion, is one of the keys to a life of contentment. That connection is being eroded through city life and a reliance on media to supply all our emotional needs. Get outside and live, I say.

We only covered a small part of the extensive Lake District

Huddersfield – On our drive back to Newark, we detoured a little to take in the West Riding of Yorkshire to see what we could find of the area that my father came from. My grandparents, aunt and father came to Western Australia by ship in 1927 from Huddersfield. We had information on where they lived prior to leaving, a house that the family had occupied for around 20 years. Along the way, we stopped at “The Hinchliffe” a pub in a village called Cragg Vale to take some pictures. The house itself was not as easy. The place has been built over by a large factory or mill, and it looks as though that is being prepared once again for redevelopment. Heather researched the old maps of the area and we found that the house would have been on the edge of a railway marshalling yard, which was obviously redeveloped to a factory of sorts sometime after 1929. So we found nothing definitive, but we still got the feeling of a few ghosts of family past.

As near as we could ascertain, this is where my grandparents and father lived. The rail tunnel would probably have been there.

Our final stop was at “Hinchliffe’s Farm Shop”, passing through the locality of “Berry Brow” the name of the Palmyra house my mother lived in as a child. This has always been considered an odd coincidence in our family, as Mum’s family had no Yorkshire connections. Hinchliffe’s Farm Shop is a big concern, selling an amazing array of fresh farm produce with an attached restaurant. It boasts being the first farm shop in Britain, the original business starting off in 1929 selling and delivering fresh eggs. We asked one of the butchers for any history of the business and were given a pack of brochures. He said they get quite a few Hinchliffes through from many parts of the world but were the first Australians he knew of. We had a meal at the restaurant and headed off, feeling that we had done as much as we could to trace the roots.

The Hinchliffe Arms and early farm shop truck

 

 

 

Newark on Trent, Lincoln and Sherwood

July 5, 2023 /

18-25 June – Newark on Trent – We were privileged to stay with friends we met on a cycling tour of the Danube back in 2017. Heather and Phillip very kindly offered to act as our hosts in Newark, and later, in their beautiful cottage in the Lake District. It has been the absolute highlight of our trip, not only enjoying their wonderful company, but getting an amazing tour of the surrounding Lincoln district and the Lake District. Most of all, we loved the opportunity to get a glimpse of life in England, a far different experience than being a tourist flitting from place to place. Their lovely house was spacious by any standards, but like an entire hotel to us after living in tiny apartments for a couple of months. Best of all, they had a large rear yard with a beautiful garden, so we had a sense of space that we have missed.

Newark on Trent – Newark is a delightful town, big enough to have most things one needs on a day to day basis, but small enough to make moving around easy. It was a short and picturesque walk into the centre from the house and a relaxing stroll around with many fine Georgian and Victorian buildings and even a couple of Elizabethan buildings. The town was one of the last hold-outs for King Charles against Cromwell’s Parliamentary forces during the English Civil War. When the Royalist eventually surrendered, the castle was destroyed. The ruins dominate the riverside entry into the town and were preserved as part of a park in the late 19th Century, forming an attractive feature of the town. We spent some time looking out from the ruins of the castle over the River Trent, watching a long canal boat negotiate the lock.

Newark Castle

The river was once the main source of income for the town, forming part of an important transport hub. Canal boat carried all sorts of goods and the town had a barley malting business. Phillip gave us a very insightful tour of the old canal areas and its history, something we would not have had without the knowledge of a local who has so much knowledge of heritage architecture. It would be interesting to do a canal holiday one day.

The Newark Canal and Locks

On out first evening in Newark, Phillip and Heather drove us out along the river to Fiskerton, a place that is good for a walk, but the heavens opened, so we consoled ourselves with a drink at the Bromley at Fiskerton Pub. The pubs in England just ooze character. We love them.

Newark has a central market a few times a week, with clothing stalls, some quality fresh fruit and veg, a marvellous bread stall and sometimes, a fish vendor. We did avail ourselves of the fish vendor to buy a couple of fillets of very fresh cod. Shopping in a market may not always be as cheap as a supermarket but it is a much more personal experience and very satisfying.

Newark Market

The Dukeries and Sherwood Forest – The Dukeries is an area of Nottinghamshire which encompasses Sherwood Forest and contained the seats of four dukes (Norfolk, Kingston, Portland and Newcastle). In the past, all four had large estates and ducal manors in the area, but as the cost of maintaining such properties rose, and the prospect of crippling death duties hung over them, the properties were sold or broken up and, in some cases, the manor houses partially destroyed. We visited Clumber House, admiring the remaining buildings, now owned by the National Trust.

Some of the semi-ruined manors of the Dukeries

Sherwood Forest itself is just a fraction of its former glory, but has some very beautiful stands of forest and some very fine ancient oaks. It is easy to see why men wearing green would be all but invisible a hiding in the thick canopy. We admired the magnificent Major Oak, thought to be somewhere between 800 and 1000 years old. Although links to Robin Hood are claimed, its age is such that it would have been a relatively insignificant tree in 1200 AD.

Walking in Sherwood Forest and the Major Oak

Lincoln and Bell Ringing – Phillip and Heather are bell ringers. The term for me had always conjured up images of friars tugging on ropes, making the church bell clang its single note. How wrong could I be. Bell Ringing proved to be a musical artform in its own right, highly mathematical and very complex. They have done it all their adult life, and rung the bells in many locations across Britain and beyond. The art form is mostly confined to Britain and British descendant countries, the European churches tending to use a keyboard approach to ringing clusters of bells. The English method creates a form of bell music which rather than having a melody, is a series of mathematical sequences. It is a great deal more complex than it appears.

Phillip and Heather took us to Lincoln, where they had a bell ringing practice session scheduled for the evening. We headed off in the early afternoon, giving ourselves time to explore the amazing city before going to the cathedral. The castle and cathedral are built on top of a limestone outcrop, making for a very steep climb. Before heading up, we strolled around the lower parts of the city, surrounding the River Witham. The University is a big feature of the city, occupying a big part of the southern bank of the river. Outside the rail station, we came across an interesting statue of George Boole, the mathematician who formulated Boolean Law, and Boolean Logic, and therefore the father of modern computer logic and programming.

A wonderful old bridge crosses the river and is known as the High Bridge. Built of stone in 1160, it is believed to be one of the oldest surviving stone bridges in England. It has some Elizabethan buildings on top, dating from 1540. The effect from both the river and the road is stunning. We explored the old Corn Exchange building, quite amazing upstairs and filled with portraits of key figures from the past.

Steep Hill at left, the High Bridge from the road and from the canal

The aptly named Steep Hill lead us upwards to the castle and cathedral. Steep it was, requiring a couple of breaks along the way. A daily traverse of this cobbled street would certainly either strengthen or kill the average person. Luckily, we survived. The castle was built in the 11th Century by William the Conqueror, as so many were. It has a large wall that has been kept intact as the castle has been repurposed over the years, including a long stint as a prison. Today, it largely serves as a museum and holds, amongst other things, a copy of the Magna Carta. We walked the perimeter via the top of the walls, climbing the square Observatory Tower to get a good view of the cathedral and Christine, who sat down below. The castle wall walk is an excellent way of seeing the layout of the city, a very beautiful place filled with amazing old buildings.

Lincoln Castle walls and view from the tower

From the castle, we headed for the cathedral. It is an imposing structure, dating from as early as 1072. In 1377 it was the World’s tallest structure, a title it held until 1548 when the main spire tumbled. We went inside, quietly and reverently, there being a service in progress. At one point, we were approached by a member of the clergy, but Phillip played the ‘volunteer’ card and we were allowed to continue our exploration. We were well removed from the actual service, the cathedral’s volume allowing us to keep to our own space, yet the wonderful tones of the choir filled the building as we wandered. It was amazing. We wandered through to the cloisters and sat for a while, soaking up the beauty of the building. Religious or not, the great cathedrals of Europe hold so much history that cannot be denied and cannot fail to affect even the most agnostic visitor. At the same time, I am often saddened to think of the enormous human effort and expense, both physical and emotional, that went into the construction of the cathedrals in medieval times.

From the cathedral, we headed for a spot of dinner, before Heather and Phillip had to return for their bell ringing practice session. One of the joys of English towns is the profusion of good, relatively cheap eateries with an interesting menu. It is rare we have a failure and on this occasion, we struck gold.

Our stomachs full, we walked back down the Steep Hill, possibly harder walking down that going up, to collect the car and drive back up to the cathedral to meet up with the other bell ringers. The climb up the spire tested Christine’s knees, already suffering after the climb up Steep Hill and the castle wall walk. She negotiated the tight stone spiral staircase in her own special way and we settled into the chamber, filled with ropes feeding through the high ceiling. We were high up, but still a long way off the actual bells themselves.

We were introduced to the other ringers, a number of whom have been to Perth and rung the Swan Bells, which are very highly regarded in the bell ringing community. As they went through their routines, we did our best to stay out of the way and listen to the musical peals of the 10 bells high above us. Phillip showed us out onto a balcony, where the ringing could be better appreciated. This was the balcony that had been used only weeks earlier for the proclamation of King Charles III. As the bells rung out, we looked down to see the people below, admiring the sound that flowed out and around the town. I followed one ringer up another steep spiral to a point above the bells (leaving Christine behind) to watch the bells in action, as they turned on their full circle mounts. It was easier to appreciate the skill of the ringers when watching the bells turn, the mathematical precision behind the routine being easy to see. It was quite a special experience, one that few people get to experience.

With the bell ringing practice done, the group headed off to a pub for a bit of cheer. Phillip and Heather count the socialisation aspect one of the best things about bell ringing. They can find a collegiate group anywhere in the World and are always welcomed. It was a very happy group and we enjoyed a session chatting about Australia and our travels.

Nottingham and The Women’s Ashes – We had a ticket booked to day two of the five day women’s test match between Australia and England at Trent Bridge. We bought the tickets as a consolation prize after failing to secure tickets to the men’s test at Edgbaston but in the end fate did us a favour.

We caught a train from Newark to Nottingham and we walked to the ground. Trent Bridge Cricket Ground is one of the prettiest we have seen, rivalling the old WACA. With a small capacity of 17,500 it would not be a great place to watch a men’s Test but the crowd of around 5000 for the Women’s game was big enough to create an atmosphere and small enough to make seating easy and buying food possible. We had seats booked, but it was unnecessary. We used our booked seats for most of the day, before the sun caught up with us and we moved to shade.

Trent Bridge Cricket Ground

The cricket was excellent. The standard of fielding from both teams was very high and there were some wonderful batting displays. The fast bowling may lack the power and speed of the men but the spin bowling made up for it. We all came away thrilled with the day’s cricket, especially since the match was pretty evenly balanced, satisfying both Heather and Phillip and us. It set us up to follow the rest of the match with a keen interest. It is disappointing to note that there is no free to air telecast of cricket in Britain. This has led to a loss of interest and a great many people we came across say they used to follow cricket but don’t really bother anymore. What possesses a sporting code to be so short sighted as to take a short-term profit over the long term benefit to the game? Australians beware!

Summary – Memories of our time in Newark will stay with us for ever, the wonderful company, the amazing house with its huge amount of space, the gardens, and the easy access to a picturesque town. Thank you so much Phillip and Heather. Hope to see you in Australia sometime soon.

 

 

York and Hull

June 28, 2023 /

The Tay Rail Bridge

14 June – Dundee to York – The train trip to York was definitely one for enthusiasts. For a start, it ran on the Northern Line, the famous route between London and Edinburgh that was the source of much rivalry in the Golden Age of Steam, with the famous Flying Scotsman being the hero. We crossed two huge bridges, both considered engineering wonders in their time. The Tay Rail Bridge out of Dundee crosses the Firth of Tay with a length of 4.43km. It was opened in 1887, after the first one collapsed in high winds, taking down a train and everyone on it. The second major bridge is across the Firth of Forth to Edinburgh, with a length of 3.97km. This iconic cantilever bridge was named voted Scotland’s greatest man-made wonder in 2016. It was no steam train for us, unfortunately, but the new LNER Azuma train was fast, quiet and comfortable.

York Station is a sight to behold. It is the most impressive to date, not for its grand entrance or surrounds, but for the huge arching roof made of beautifully engineered steel girders. When it opened in 1877, it was the World’s largest. Its beauty is enhanced by the long sweeping curve of the platforms.

Views of York, with the rail station at top left

Out of the station, we were faced with the old city walls, dating originally from the Roman era, but mostly built in medieval times. There are 80% intact, and walking along the top from gate to gate is a popular tourist pastime. The walk to our apartment was beautiful, across the lovely stone Lendal Bridge as it crosses the River Ouse and through another gate in the wall called the Bootham Bar. Our first floor apartment was just down the road from Bootham Bar and proved spacious and comfortable. Even better, there was a Sainsbury’s within 100m and the Bootham Tavern even closer We unpacked, bought a few supplies and made our faces known in the tavern. Before retiring for the evening, we took a stroll around the immediate neighbourhood, admiring the many quaint little shops with display windows full of curiosities. It was a terrific location to be in, and a welcome change from staying a bus or tram ride away from the city centre.

The Bootham Bar and city walls. Our apartment is down the street lower left.

15 June – York – The day was spent walking the streets, and city walls. We completed two of the four sections of walls, from Bootham Bar to Monk Bar then later, Lendal Bridge to Mickle Gate. The wall is arranged with a parapet on the outer side and an iron balustrade on the inner side, but there was a long section that had no iron balustrade. Christine did not like this one bit, but was very good about it, and successfully negotiated it without plunging over the side. The great joy of York is discovering charming little shops, many of Elizabethan design, tucked away in lanes and alleyways. The towering York Minster seems to dominate the skyline wherever you are, totally changing in appearance as each new perspective is gained. Our walking app suggested a historical pub walk, and even though we didn’t follow it, we did come across a lot of the really old taverns and inns listed, including the Snickleway Inn, Ye Olde Starre Inne and The Royal Oak. Some of these date from the 15th Century and all purported to have one or more resident ghosts.

Views of York Minster

We were starting to think about lunch when we passed a place selling meals based around Yorkshire Pudding, so we were hooked. We shared a large pudding with pork, potatoes and gravy. To be honest, it was underwhelming. The pork and gravy was delicious, but the Yorkshire Pudding did not meet our expectations, certainly nowhere near as good as my mother’s, which came from my Yorkshire born grandmother.

By the time we were done for the day, we had covered more than 10km and were ready for a break.

16 June – York – We set out a little later in the day than usual, headed for the National Rail Museum, up the hill behind the station. This free entry museum consists of a large covered enclosure that houses a huge railway turntable and various locos and carriages parked on the spokes of the turntable. There are some wonderful trains, dating from a true replica of George Stephenson’s Rocket in 1829 to a Japanese Maglev train. One locomotive that really held my attention was a cutaway, with the insides of the boiler, pistons and firebox exposed to show the inner workings. I love that kind of stuff.

We strolled around admiring carriages and engines, chatting to a few other visitors, including another Aussie woman from Melbourne and generally enjoying a chilled time in a wonderful environment. Apparently, there is often far more to see but a half of the facility was closed for refurbishment. We found enough to satisfy us.

We hopped aboard a cute little “Road Train” that would take us back into the city and drop us at the York Ministry. From there, we walked through to the beautiful Museum Gardens, overlooking the river and holding the interesting ruins of St Leonards Hospital and St Mary’s Abbey. Finally, we headed to the Bootham Tavern to watch a bit of Test Cricket over a pint. There was another Aussie couple from Adelaide, and we spent a terrific couple of hours comparing notes, admiring the Australian batting prowess and sinking a few lagers, before grabbing some food from the Sainsbury’s and heading home to collapse.

17 June – Hull – A trip to the nearby city of Hull was planned to catch up with Sally, niece of a friend in Perth. Officially, Hull is called Kingston upon Hull, the Hull being a river flowing into the large Humber Estuary on Britain’s east Coast. It was about an hour’s train journey south of York. With Sally having only limited availability, we spent the morning exploring the small city. Over 90% of the city was destroyed during WWII, because it was a strategically important port, and so there are relatively few old building of great merit, and quite a few modern glass and steel structures. The two blend together well in Hull, and the central part of the city is interesting to wander through. The huge Humber estuary  and marina areas add interest to the town, although the very low tide left the River Hull as a winding sludgy mud path.

The town has an old quarter, with quite a number of Georgian style houses and commercial buildings. There is also a museum quarter, housing the main Hull Museum, the Street View Museum and the William Wilberforce Museum. All are free to enter and adjacent to each other, making a great place to go if you have the time to browse all three. We only admired William Wilberforce’s home from the outside, lacking time to go in, but his prominent place in the abolition of the slave trade is worth recognizing. The Street View Museum was wonderful, being composed of a series of recreated 19th Century streetscapes and shops, along with a lot of transport pieces from the 19th and 20th Centuries. We wandered the streets and soaked up the charming atmosphere, so quaint and quirky. The reality is that we would have been avoiding horse dung, pushing through household refuse and choking on the highly polluted air, but the presentation of the sanitized view of Victorian life was worth the experience.

The Street View Museum and William Wilberforce

We found the right bus and caught it out to the area where Sally lived, spending a lovely time filling her in on how things are in Australia for her aunt, before she drove us back into the train station for our return to York. Not much more remained of the day other than another trip to the Bootham Tavern, where we were in danger of being called regulars.

York has been one of our favourite British towns to date, partly because of the excellent location of our accommodation. There is so much to see and admire and so many wonderful little nooks to explore it is a must for any traveller to England. Tomorrow, we move to Newark on Trent.

Dundee, Perth and St Andrews, June 2023

June 20, 2023 /

June 10 – Inverness to Dundee – We had a bus trip booked to Inverness, the same bus that we had caught up from Glasgow then a change at Perth for a relatively short haul to Dundee. We had a wait of a couple of hours between having to vacate the lodgings and catching a bus so we just wandered town, finding different spots to stop and sit. We chatted to a few others in similar circumstances, an Austrian chap off a cruise ship and a woman who lives on the mainland over-looking Skye. She remarked how some of her neighbours who are dependent on rain water are starting to run low. We didn’t get to actually see Perth, because the intercity bus station is some distance out, so it was marked down for a visit later. The scenery was a repeat of before, so it was very much a doze and listen to music trip, most relaxing.

Once again, we had a place that was in the suburbs, meaning a #28 bus trip. We are getting quite good at these now and don’t feel quite so self-conscious about hauling luggage onto a crowded commuter bus. Everyone is very helpful and kind. We just join in with the prams and wheelchairs, standing up and hanging on for grim death. A ride through Dundee didn’t fill us with wonder at the grandeur of the place. It appeared as a mix of semi-grand, plain modern and squalid. Our estate was worse. The flat was nice enough, two big bedrooms and all the necessaries, but the area was unkept, and the street rubbish was terrible. To be fair to the residents, the rubbish wasn’t thrown around, but spilled out of rubbish bins. I don’t know what the collection pattern is but it obviously is not enough, and the cats and foxes raiding bins adds to the issue. It seems to be a problem throughout the UK. We didn’t see any untoward behaviour or hear anything bad happening but it looked like something out of an episode of The Bill. Ah well! What we did notice on the bus was a notice that strike action would commence in two day’s time, cutting some lesser routes out and putting the rest on Sunday timetables, with nothing at all after 7pm. This would continue until further notice. It may prove to be a nuisance but it doesn’t come as a surprise. Prices are going through the roof in the UK and it will be certain that wages haven’t risen to match.

June 11 – Dundee – A bus trip into Dundee was in order. Not being used to any rain, we walked the 150m to the bus stop, but as we waited , the rain started coming down. Christine at least had a rain jacket, I had a cotton pullover that would be ghastly when wet. We headed back, dried off and repacked, this time with umbrellas. It proved to be a wise move. By the time we got into town, the rain was continual and moderately heavy. Few people seemed to have planned for it and there were some very uncomfortable looking people.

The bus let us out at Albert Square, a beautiful part of town with the museum as a centrepiece in the square and a glorious stature of Queen Victoria, in her later and heavier years. We walked down through the town following largely pedestrian streets and revised our opinion of the city. There are some pretty parts and some buildings of merit after all. Near the harbour, is the polar expedition ship Discovery, which was used on a voyage of Antarctic exploration in 1901-04, with Ernest Shackleton and Robert Falcon Scott amongst the explorers on board. We have been on board enough famous ships now to be content with a view from the outside. The nearby ultra modern building proved to be the V&A Museum (Victoria and Albert), a name which evoked images of displays about their life and times. However, it was a textile and design museum, not quite our cup of tea, but we did spend some time with the counter staff who gave us some tips on what to see and do, including advice about getting to St Andrews.

The V&A textile museum and Antarctic ship Discovery

We walked on through the rain, worse at times, until heading for a Greggs to get a cup of tea and a sausage roll. Greggs is a chain of fast food cafes that has 2,300 locations around Britain. We need it in Australia. You can pop in, buy a tea or a range of coffees, grab a pastry snack or sandwich and not lose half a day’s wages in the process. The food is as good, in some cases better, than the café across the road that charges ridiculous prices and they always seem to have enough staff that one is not left waiting for ages for a coffee to be made.

Emerging from the Greggs, we made our way up to The McManus, home to the Dundee Museum and Gallery, spending a pleasant hour browsing the displays and some lovely art pieces, especially in the Victoria Gallery. It helped that we now knew many of the scenes of the Highlands that the paintings depicted. We may have been more than an hour, because by the time we left the museum, the rain had ceased and the ground was almost dry again, the sun breaking through. We continued to wander town before finding a Tesco, then heading back to the apartment.

The McManus

Views of Dundee

June 12th – Perth – Today we caught a train to Perth, a trip that only takes 20 minutes or so. We had anticipated problems getting a bus into Dundee due to the planned strike, but just as we walked up to the stop a bus appeared. As we walked through the city, we passed a group of strikers, holding their placards and getting lots of toots in support from passing motorists. We got onto the train and were soon in Perth.

As the train crossed the River Tay, the city was presented at its best with a beautiful river frontage, stately stone buildings spanning the riverfront between the rail bridge and two road bridges.. We left the station and wandered down around town, which is small in area. There are a few squares and walking streets to wander through and some nice alfresco cafes to choose from. We picked one to stop for tea and scones, luckily sitting under an awning section, as the rain came down shortly after, sending other people scurrying. The shower was short and the sun re-emerged.

Perth on the River Tay

Our walk took us to the river and over one of two road bridges, stopping to watch a group kayak up into the fairly strong current. On the other side of the river, a beautiful riverside garden lead upstream to the other road bridge, making a pleasant walk.

We only managed to find one store that sold tourist items, and then very little. Christine wanted a T-Shirt that said “Perth, Scotland” as a curiosity. The one tourist store had one design that said Perth, all the rest just said Scotland. I guess Perth tourism isn’t booming.

Around Perth

T-Shirt secured, we headed back to the train and Dundee, a relaxing and easy trip. That makes our 3rd Perth, having also been to the one in Tasmania. There are quite a few left in the World to visit.

The Tay Road Bridge

June 13th – St Andrews – It’s a pity neither of us play golf because today we headed to the birthplace of golf, St Andrews. We took the #99 bus, crossing the amazing Tay Road Bridge, which, at 2.2km, is one of the longest in Europe. It is interesting to see observe that on the intercity buses, almost no-one wears a seatbelt, even though they are fitted. The recent news from Australia of the wedding bus crash showed the importance of wearing seatbelts on buses, so we always belt up. In fact, we even get on trains and feel awkward when there is no seatbelt. The bus raced across the winding road at breakneck speed, making the feel of the seatbelt comforting.

The countryside was interesting enough, with some of the barley even starting to show signs of ripening. There were a lot of potato fields as well. The final approach to the town is alongside golf links, including the famed Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews, that ruled the game up until 2004. There are five courses in all, and plenty of people out in the beautiful summer sunshine.

I had always thought that St Andrews was the name of the golf course, but it is actually a town of some 17,000 people and is primarily a university town the institution being established in 1410. In 2022, the University of St Andrews was ranked as the UKs best. It is impossible to miss the complex when in the town, its buildings dominate the streetscapes. Today was graduation day and the streets were filled with young people in academic gown, lunching with proud parents and looking like gearing up for the forthcoming Graduation Ball. We wandered the town, admiring the grand building and the quaint; there were more of the latter. Once in the University zone, we stepped inside a courtyard of the University, which was filled with young grads, mums and dads and professors.

Around St Andrews

St Andrews has an aquarium, which also houses a population of meerkats and a pair of marmosets, an odd combination but they are also into animal rescue. The aquarium side of things has local cold water fish on display and it was interesting to see live examples of the things we had been eating, such as Atlantic Cod and Haddock. They also had a tropical area, filled with all kinds of interesting fish, including some big piranha.

Atlantic Cod )top) and Sea Bass (bottom)

We joined a group of school children to watch the resident harbour seals being fed. These have all been born in captivity, except for one which was born a bit of a runt and abandoned as a pup. There behaviours were explained and demonstrated and it was interesting to see that they often swim upside down, part of their prey being bottom dwellers such as crabs and lobsters, and looking down makes hunting easier. A single large gull joined in the feeding and was extremely adept at getting to the thrown sprat before the seals. It was a wonder it could still get off the ground.

After the seals, the meerkats were fed. They are fed with live crickets, a whole bunch being released into the enclosure. The meerkats searched them out and pounced on them like I pounce on a Cornish Pastie. They actually have quite poor eyesight, which is why they are continually moving their heads, trying to focus. It was amusing because the watching crowd could see crickets on the rock outcrops with meerkats passing close by and missing them. Eventually, the score was meerkats 100, crickets 0 but it took a while, and is good exercise for the meerkats, if not the crickets.

The marmosets are a pair that were rescued from a private collector. Apparently, they were quite badly behaved when they first arrived, but with a consistent approach, their manners have improved. They don’t turn around and expose their bottoms at people quite as often. The species hails from South America and simply ooze cuteness. They are fast and nimble in the trees and don’t seem to stay still for long. Later in the day there would be a penguin feed but we contented ourselves with an explore of the aquariums before heading off and back into town.

Skink and Haggis Bonbons

A cute little pub attracted our attention for lunch. Christine had been keen to try a local dish called Skink, which sounds like a genus of lizard but is actually a type of fish chowder with smoked haddock and potato. I was equally excited by the haggis bonbons. Both proved excellent, although I can tolerate smoked fish in small amounts so I was glad a stuck with the haggis. Of course, the beer went down well. The pubs in the UK sell some terrific cheap food, usually have loads of ambience and are a fraction of the coast of cafes and restaurants. They must make a go of it because in some towns you can stand on a street and see four pubs within a stone’s throw of each other.

We left the golf shops and graduates behind and headed back to Dundee and the apartment (after a 40 minute wait for a bus that is usually every 15 minutes). Reflecting on our visit to Dundee, it has not been the best city on our tour by a long way, but it has provided a good base for visits to Perth and St Andrews, both of which are well worth the visit. It will be nice, however, to go to a city where rubbish collections are effective. Tomorrow, it is back to England and a stay in York.

Inverness, John O’Groats and Skye, June 2023

June 19, 2023 /

5 June – Glasgow to Inverness – Our path north to Inverness was by coach, the first we have used in the UK. We travelled with a group called Stagecoach, through Megabus, and it proved to be just as comfortable as the Flixbus we had used on the continent. One downside is that that don’t have a seat booking system, so there is a bit of a bun fight on boarding, but we fought well and bagged the upstairs seats at the front to command a good view.

I was looking forward to the trip for the scenery, and it didn’t disappoint. The road lead back to Stirling then north to Perth, where we changed drivers, before heading on to pass the beautiful mountain of Blair Athol and skirted the Cairngorms. The National Park that covers the area is a popular hiking and mountain bike destination, with snow sports during the Winter, so the small towns we passed through were very sports oriented and quite crowded with tourists.

When we arrived at Inverness, our first impressions were not positive. The entry was via the industrial area, not extensive, with the only real industry being barley malting, but lacking visual appeal. We got off the bus, gathered our luggage and headed off through the middle of the town, which is far from big. It didn’t take long for our first impressions to be turned around, the quaint streetscapes and charming restaurants and pubs soon winning us over.

Overall, Inverness has around 40,000 people in the centre with another 40,000 outlying. Unlike Manchester and Glasgow, our accommodation was very central, just over the River Ness via the “Bouncy Bridge” one of three pedestrian suspension bridges built in the 1880s. They are called bouncy because it only really takes a regular heavy pace to get the whole bridge moving, which must be quite something after a night on the town. The river is fast flowing and shallow, and can be a productive salmon river at times. Our apartment is a single floor of an old stone building and is one of the better ones we have had so far, given the location, comfort and general ambiance.

The ‘Bouncy Bridge’ and our cute little house.

We had time to settle in and head down to the local Tesco for supplies for dinner. Coming home and realising that the beer was warm, we made the decision to try out the local pub, the Waterfront Pub. It is a very popular place for dinner, and a glance at the menu told us why. We promised ourselves another visit.

6 June – Inverness – We spent a good part of the day exploring Inverness, completing a walk of the town using the GPSmyCity App. There is a mix of the old and new, although nothing in the way of actual high-rise buildings. We did come across the oldest building in the town, Abertaff House, built in 1593. The Victoria Market is a beautiful 19th Century arcade filled with interesting shops and old world charm. The walk was relaxed and easy, after the crowds of Glasgow and Manchester. The whole town has a wonderful feel to it, the kind of place people might retire to, a thing which appears to be a thing, at least in some of the outlying towns. Even the traffic was more relaxed and some streets had empty parking spaces, a rare sight in other cities.

After lunch, we headed out again to walk along the banks of the River Ness. We passed the Inverness Cathedral and the Arts Centre, enjoying the relative warmth of the fine weather. I say relative because one minute it can be warm enough to convince you that the jacket needs to come off and the next minute a couple of gusts of icy wind tells you otherwise. It is not the place to go out unprepared. A brewery and distillery drew our attention and the presence of an outdoor area sufficiently sheltered from the breeze coerced us into a lager. Unfortunately, it was the first beer we had tried in the UK that was not to our liking, being a bit on the bitter side. All that meant was it took longer to drink it.

7 June – Dunrobin Castle and John O’Groats – Today was the first of two consecutive days of 12 hour tours. What possessed us to do that? We actually booked them way back in January, sources suggested that such tours book out very early. This was probably true because both tours were fully subscribed. If memory serves, back at the time, we did not have the option of booking with a day in between. Unfortunately, my advice to anyone booking tours of the Highlands is to leave it until there is a weather forecast available, even though the locals say forecasts are always rubbish anyway. There are stories of tours driving through heavy mist all day, with the passengers seeing nothing.

Our first tour was north out of Inverness along the north-east coastline to John O’Groats, often said to be the most northerly point on the British mainland, although that claim can actually be taken by the nearby Dunnet Head. Inverness sits on the Moray Firth, and we crossed that via the beautiful Kessock Bridge. The bus skirted Cromarty Firth through Invergordon, once the site of a large naval base, then the base for the construction of huge north-sea gas and oil platforms. As the fossil fuel industry declines, the base has turned more to the manufacture and servicing of wind turbines, hundreds of which dot the northern Scottish coastline. It’s good to see how a town can keep reinventing itself and a sign that closing down fossil fuel based industries may not mean the end of industry.

We stopped for morning tea in Dornoch, a beautiful little castle village, with some lovely stone buildings, castle, church and gaol to cover all bases. We stopped at the churchyard, where a sign told of the vibrant monthly markets that used to be held amongst the grave-stones, until a band of feral pigs started digging up the bodies and the yard had to be walled off, making the market impractical. It’s stories like that we need to keep small town tourism alive.

Dornoch

The next stop of the famous Dunrobin Castle. More like a palace than a castle, the amazing Disney-like structure has been the summer residence of the Duke of Sutherland since the late 18th Century. The name is tainted in the eyes of some Scots because the first Duke was responsible for what is called the Highland Clearances, when the clans were forced off the land by raising the rents. The vacated land was stocked by the large land owners with sheep, and the inhabitants forced to settle on the coast to fish, move to the industrial cities further south or emigrate to places such  as America or Australia. The Duke did not hold the same poor opinion of himself, erecting a 100’ statue of himself on the highest hill in the district to overlook everything. Despite the dubious politics of the day, most of the advances in the area that brought a more modern way to the Highland areas seem to have their origins with the Duke of Sutherland.

From the carpark side, the castle looks impressive, although much like many others. It is from the other side, which overlooks a huge formal garden styled like that at Versailles, that the true magnificence of the building can be seen. There are four stages to the structure, dating from the 14th Century keep, now deep within the main building, to the ornate outer structure which was built between 1835 and 1850 by Sir Charles Barry (rebuilt Westminster Houses of Parliament in London). It is now open to the public as a museum of the lives of the Sutherlands in the 19th Century.

All rooms are laid out beautifully, with ornate table settings in the grand dining room, an amazing collection of old books in the library, a most wonderful nursery packed with games and toys that, I am pleased to say, would have been museum pieces when I was a child. As you move throughout the castle, you can’t help but notice that almost every wall carries portrait of members of the Sutherland Clan. Some are done by noted artists and a very large and very beautiful. The other things covering the walls are stag heads, most with plaques bearing the names of the people who killed the creatures and the date. Most carry ten point antlers, with a few having twelve points, true prizes in the stag shooting world. To be fair, the deer do need regular hunting in these parts. If the numbers are allowed to grow unchecked, the damage to the environment is heavy, as they will eat the tree saplings and prevent forest growth.

We moved through the castle, surely one of the best museums of Victorian upper crust life anywhere. Out on the rear balcony, we admired the formal gardens below, spread out between the castle and the waters of Dornoch Firth, before tackling the long walk down, via steps and steep gravel pathways. The ladies of the 19th Century would probably have made do with the view from above, the trip down being so difficult in the heavy full outfits of the day.

Harris’s Hawk

We made our way to an area at the rear of the gardens set up with wooden benches facing an open lawned area. On the other side of the lawn, we could see the aviaries for the hunting birds, some falcons and hawks. A number of perches were set up around the area and two birds were brought out, one at a time. The master falconer explained how hawking had been very popular in times past and a genuine way that the poorer people could access game meat in the form of rabbits, hares and grouse. A man could get permission to trap a hawk and the Duke allowed hawking in the and around the forests. The hawk brought out was a species from New Mexico called a Harris’s Hawk. It flew from perch to perch and back to the keeper’s gloved hand, taking small pieces of meat as a reward. A young boy from the audience was chosen to run across the field, dragging a lure behind to illustrate the hunting method of the bird, which takes game from the ground rather than the air as falcons do.

Gryfalcon

The second bird was a gyrfalcon from Siberia, the largest of the falcons. Falcons have shorter legs, more streamlined wings and hunt in the air, taking birds as prey. It was a striking bird. The keeper exercised it by swinging a lure around his head, the falcon making continual attacks. The speed and aerial agility of the bird was amazing.

A video of the falconry display can be seen at https://youtu.be/Dg8c2II7BSc.

With time running out, we had to leave the birds and get back to the bus. Having been quite ho-hum about yet another castle, the visit had turned out to be a highlight.

The bus pushed on north stopping briefly at a spot in Loch Fleet to watch a large group of seals flop around on a sandbank, before taking the A9 towards John O’Groats. The A9 soon lost its dual carriageway status and became a good two lane road with excellent traffic flow, before eventually turning into the A99. At Reis, our driver Alex announced that he would try a new route, heading inland, taking the B876 to the north coast then turn east to John O’Groats. This would let us see some different country rather than seeing the same things as we travelled north then back down the same way. It sounded fine, although he admitted he had not done it before. All went fine, until half way up to the coast, his GPS advised him to turn right. He followed instructions, to find himself in the same situation as us when driving a one lane hedged road in Wales. It was crazy. The road was so narrow and quite rough. There was a surprising amount of traffic to deal with via pull-overs. I imagine some of the traffic was also caught by Google’s ‘shorter is better’ approach to navigation. We followed the route on our own Google Maps and could see no real reason why we were doing what we were doing. There were even chances to get back to the B876 but we stuck to the tiny back road. The scenery was not even worth it; high rolling hills with little more than gorse and heather covering them was our reward.

Eventually, we emerged onto the coast, got a brief glimpse of Dunnet Head, the true most northern point on the mainland British Isles, then drove on a short distance to John O’Groats, quite perplexed as to why we had just suffered 40 minutes of being bashed around in the bus. John O’Groats is hardly a town, more a village with little purpose other than hosting tourist buses and ferry access to the Orkneys, visible not far off-shore. We were lucky to actually see the Orkneys. Most people who come here see little other than driving rain or thick fog. We had ideal conditions, including a glassed-out sea, which allowed us to see the tidal races and swirls that the area is famous for, as the big tides of the North Sea hit those of the Atlantic. It looks like a place every bit as dangerous as the waters off the Kimberley coastline in Australia.

John O’Groats

Alex had told us there was a good fish and chip shack overlooking the point. Unfortunately, with our extended drive through the back country, we were quite late and just as we walked up, savouring a bit of cod and a serve of chips, the woman closed up, giving us a look that said “tough luck, I’m out.” We looked around the other café offerings and settled on lentil soup and bread, our bodies thanking us for the sacrifice (actually, it was delicious).

We set off again, Alex seeming to understand that the A99 is not the enemy, and we drove to Duncansby Head, a high and spectacular cliff area known as a seabird roosting area. The hope was that we would see some puffins. Everyone set off along the track that hugged the cliff tops to a deep long crevasse, called the Geo of Sclaites, that ran several hundred meters into the cliff. The scenery itself was worth the visit, and the sight of all the sea birds pouring up and down the crevasse, swimming in the water or roosting along the cliffs made it all the better. We got quite excited thinking we had seen a large number of puffins below us, but some watchers raised doubts when they pointed out that they did not have orange beaks as puffins in breeding season have. A check on our “Birds of Europe” App showed that they were Little Auks, closely related to puffins. No puffins; auks would have to suffice. Christine decided that she had walked enough and stayed at the crevasse while I went on for a bit to look down on the spectacular Duncansby Head Stacks, a couple of offshore chimneys.

The bird watching done, it was the start of the long drive back to Inverness, with a stop at Dunbeath, a small harbour that used to service a herring fleet in bygone days. We got back to town at 7:30pm, making it an 11 hour tour, interesting enough with some marvellous scenery, but tiring all the same. Quite done in, we headed to the Waterfront Pub for dinner, only to find that we needed a booking, the place being packed to the hilt. We made a booking for the next night and trudged home, thankful that we at least had the makings of a meal in the fridge.

8 June – Isle of Skye – It was like waking to an alarm after a night on the town. I really didn’t want to get up, but it was another early start with a 7:45 tour scheduled. We were seriously questioning why we had done this to ourselves. We stood in line at the pickup spot, the same place as yesterday’s start. Christine looked like she wouldn’t cope, until the bus arrived and the driver showed himself in his kilt. She noticeably perked up, along with all the other females in the queue. I wasn’t sure what the fuss was about but there was much fanning of blushing faces going on.

The driver, Luke, proved to be quite the showman, having been a DJ in a past life. Despite the kilt, he was a Londoner, but had come to Inverness about 6 years ago and taken to the tour guiding business. He was one of the best, lots of fun and full of knowledge. He did a roll call and came up one short, so we waited for a bit until a young American girl named Ashley arrived. Luke berated her, in a friendly banter kind of way, and she showed her mettle by giving as good as she got, then it was off. Ashley had to sit in the only seat left, in the front next to Luke, which upset al the other ladies on the bus. He pointed out that his name was Luke, that we were going to Skye and that we would be doing lots of walking so her dubbed himself Luke Skywalker. Ashely was appointed assistant and dubbed Princess Ashleia. It was like a setup, but it was all adlib stuff. Ashely proved to be from Michigan and on a week’s visit to Scotland, having just landed the night before. She was good fun.

We drove down the length of Loch Ness, hearing some of the stories surrounding the ‘monster’ and the way photos and sightings have been debunked, but the myth is an economic boon for the region. We saw the ruins of Urquart Castle, near where the original 1934 photograph of “Nessie” was taken/fabricated. The road took us through the Great Glen, a wondrous huge valley carved out by glaciers in the last ice age, before leaving and travelling along the shores of Loch Cluanie, a man-made loch resulting from a hydro-dam. Then it was into Glen Shiel, with its towering walls, an even more spectacular drive than the Great Glen. We passed the site of the battle of Glen Shiel, when the Jacobites and some Spanish marines were defeated by the British in 1719.

Driving through LochNess (top) and Glen Shiel (bottom)

Our next stop was another castle, possibly the most photographed in the Highlands, Eileen Donan Castle. Built in the 13th Century to guard against the Vikings, it was a strategic point during the Jacobite uprisings in the 18th Century. The Jacobites holed up there, until the British Navy sent a couple of frigates to bombard it in an attempt to reduce it to rubble. The canons failed to have much of an impact but the castle was stormed and over-run, the 343 barrels of gunpowder in the armoury doing what the cannons couldn’t do. It remained as a ruin until the early 20th Century when it was reconstructed from the ruins. Its island setting makes it a real magnet for photographers and it makes an appearance on calendars and jigsaw puzzles around the World. We elected to admire the castle from the shore, not wanting a tour inside and not wanting to pay to simply cross the bridge.

Eilean Donan Castle

We didn’t think the scenery could get any better, but we hadn’t counted on the sheer beauty of the Isle of Skye. I had always imagined that Bonny Prince Charlie had a lengthy voyage as he was carried away over the seas to Skye on his escape from the British, but it is a rather narrow channel in reality, although the tidal currents make it tricky. These days, there is a bridge and so we were onto the isle with little fuss. The island has it all. At 100kms long, it is Scotland’s second largest island. It has a varied history of settlement, being inhabited by Celts, Picts and Scandinavian Vikings, being under Norwegian ownership up until 1266. Volcanic cores form the dominant mountains called the Cuillins, one formation being made of dark rock and called the Black Cuillin and the other a more reddish colour known as the Red Cuillin. We were lucky to have the perfect weather continue and we could see the mountains in all their glory. We drove through areas of thick deep forest, cleared farmlands and more open, heather covered hills. Due to the influence of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf Stream, Skye has a milder climate than the mainland, with snow being rare other than on the peaks.

The Cuillins

Our first stop on the island was a picturesque spot called Sligachan Old Bridge, where a beautiful old stone bridge spanned a series of low waterfalls. The falls were unspectacular due to the lack of recent rain. The pools are called the ‘Fairy Pools’ because it is well known that fairies attract more tourists. Rather recent (as in the last decade or so) folklore says that washing your face in the water for 7 seconds will bestow everlasting beauty or holding your head under for 30 seconds will grant immortality. It was a shame the water levels were so low. Probably more relevant is that it was the site of a major battle between the clans MacDonald and MacCleod in 1601. Hopefully, those involved in the battle had held their heads under the water for 30 seconds prior to attacking.

We stopped for lunch in Portree, the major settlement on the island. It is a town that thrives on tourism and hospitality and, as often is the case when tourism pressures a town, the standard of service falls. This was the first example we had found in Scotland of poor service and disinterested workers. Still, we found a soup and bread meal in a pub and satisfied our needs.

Portree

The tour pushed on past a mountain with an unusual formation called ‘The Old Man of Storr’, stopping for the obligatory photos and again at the Rigg View Point, offering spectacular views along the high cliffs.

Old man of Storr at bottom

Skye would be a wonderful place to stay for a few days with your own transport, to fully explore and appreciate what the island has to offer. A visit of only a few hours has left a lasting impression.

The drive back was long, but still full of interest, because the spectacular scenery could be viewed from the opposite perspective. Luke and Princess Ashleia kept us entertained with a quiz and music requests, keeping most of us awake and amused, no mean feat after such a long day. We rolled into Inverness around 7:30pm once again, not quite knowing how we would cope with a long bus trip to Dundee the next day. Just as we neared the end of the tour, a check of our itinerary produced the wonderful news that we actually had an extra unallocated day in Inverness, and would not be travelling south the next day. A sleep in and a day off. Bliss!

9 June – Inverness – We slept in, as we had promised ourselves, and spent the morning doing very little. About 11 o’clock, we thought it was time to get active and went for a leisurely wander across the bridge to town and continued to walk, without any real purpose, just soaking up the ambiance of this pretty little city. It is so easy to explore after the hustle and bustle of places like Manchester and Glasgow. We had a few options, and could have caught a few buses to other attractions, but we were done for the moment.  We would regain our energy in Dundee, our next stop.

 

 

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