JOURNEYS END APPROACHES

Edi, Mick and myself on Blade.

Life is ever changing.

My journey in the South of France has been of a different kind.

When I was no longer enjoying myself, I changed tack for an easier experience.

My bike has remained packed in its case. I just couldn't face putting it back together to cycle this very beautiful but hectic, hot and mountainous region. I was finally over lugging such huge weight along. Bike and trailer have  been shipped back to England.

I had tried and failed to book my rig onto trains simply because the number I rang kept coming up invalid despite emailing Euro Rail and asking at stations. It can be done, I just didn't manage to organize it. Anyway, the steps onto some of the French trains are steep and narrow and would have been impossible for me to navigate with all of my gear.

Prompted and nudged along when I wilted, by my son Mick I have explored this gorgeous south coast by bus, on foot and by train, still staying in YHA known as Auberge de Jeunesse. Most bus trips are 1 euro. Public transport is very good here and I have taken the opportunity to visit picturesque villages in the mountains.

Sospel

I do find English speakers and also manage a few simple French conversations although today as I write this I have crossed into Italy and hardly understand a word beyond Bon Giorno and Ciaou!

 I had a wonderful time when I visited Manosque, Provence staying with Helene who I met in Scotland and her husband Fred.

 Swimming across Lake Vandanne at night together under the full moon was so excellent. Whilst there, I rode Helene's bike and visited neighbouring villages. We were so at ease and happy together it will be a shame not to spend more time together.

Helene and Fred organized for me to journey along a spectacularly scenic river valley through the mountains from Digne to Nice in a single carriage old train. It was a wonderful journey.

 In the many old sections of France, the narrow streets, fountains and colourful markets all have so much character and history. It is so interesting to just wander along exploring and exchanging bright greetings of " bonjour madame ". I love seeing so many piano accordians being played at the al fresco cafes which are so numerous here. I am appalled however to find that cigarette and cigar smoking seem to be THE national past time of the great majority!


I spent a week in gorgeous Menton.

There are always a few beggars in every town, hopefully holding out their cups whilst their cigarette pack is in view !  I prefer to donate to the buskers, at least they are entertaining.

Aix en Provence

The French love to honk their horns loud and long! One charming bus driver stopped to let every lady cross the road but honked frequently, gesticulated at and  furiously berated  all whose driving tactics met with his disapproval as we ascended the twisting narrow road to the plateau of Saint Michel. The hills were so steep that the houses appeared to be painted onto the hillsides and I wondered how it was possible to gain access to them..

!2th Century hilltop village of Eze

It has been marvellous to spend part of 3 weekends with Mick and Edi.

We toured the Royal Palais and the Oceanographique Musee. We have dined out and walked all over hills and waterfront.

 Our highlight was attending the Monaco Boat Show with complimentary tickets. As Mick knew crew on other boats and suppliers on the stands, we were offered glasses of wine and were privileged to look through one of the multimillionaire motor yachts 11.9 million euro actually!  

( http://www.edmistoncompany.com/luxury-yachts-for-sale/marion-queen-276/ )They are such unbelievably opulent toys.

Riding in the tender from the harbour out to the anchorage off Monaco around all of the mega yachts at dusk was a magical treat. As it grew dark the whole area was “asparkle” with a blaze of bright lights. Wow!

Swimming in the warm Mediterranean is superb. I have become expert at changing discreetly under my towel on the "beach" of stones. The water sparkles in the warm sunshine as I swim leisurely laps up and down. Plenty of eye candy! The funniest were a couple of emaciated, sun crisped old blondes with perfect smooth, brown globes sprouting out above their boney ribs!

Menton

Swimming at Menton

I am on the fast train to Rome, arriving tonight for 3 nights. I have two days to discover the world famous landmarks.

Afterwards I will take the train to La Spezia to meet Mick and farewell Edi for now. Mick and I will do a whirlwind walking driving sightseeing trip back to collect my bag at La Ciota and fly out from Marseille on Saturday. Mick will fly to Turkey to join a new boat and I to England to farewell Pam and Harry and fly home from Heathrow on Monday. Ooh I can hardly wait.

Despite being in such a fantastic, world renowned holiday resort I have lacked purpose and direction. There are still very few people that I can converse with. Whilst cycling, the planning and effort of biking from A - B, following a planned route and sightseeing as I went had kept me motivated.

 It is almost 7 months since I left Australia and the people that I love most in the world.

 Enough wandering alone!

I am ready to return.

P.S Rome is another story…coming…Wow!.....Glad I was still over here to experience it.

The French Disconnection

I definitely left my fearless Amazon coat at home when I crossed the Channel to France!

I have felt very isolated much of the time on account of the fact that I am unable to chat my way along in my usual fashion! I quite lost the plot for a while and felt the threads that are pulling me back home to Oz growing stronger by the minute. This lone traveller has had enough.

Day two started out with my rear brake dragging on the tyre. I found a small car park in the French village with it narrow streets to upend my bike and have a fiddle with things. It took quite a while for me to sort it out by which time it was raining.

Undeterred off I rode up the steep hill and set out for Caen. The wind was up and driving the rain into my face. Oh well. You get that! I loved the old French buildings and the colourful flowers, I jut wished the wind and rain would go away.

When you have no common language it is hard to find the basic necessities of life." Ou est la toilette?" Yes that got through but the complicated stream of explanations just left me with my legs crossed and non the wiser.

Eventually to my relief I found a toilet on a deserted wind swept beach front. I have since ducked behind hedges, sneaked into farmers fields and given a quick scan for people or stinging nettles and voila, mission accomplished.

Head tucked in to avoid wind and rain it was not the time for photos or even enjoying the scenery. I stopped and sat under a tree for shelter, to boil up a hot cuppa and have some lunch. An Italian traveller spotted me. He was very charming although he spoke only a few English words. My home! He showed me....and mine, I gestured to my bike and trailer. His was the more colourful! We were fascinated with each other!

I battled on to the Caen Auberge de Jeunesse YHA. It was a good night with a fun Aussie lady of about my age, a Welsh girl and a young French/Egyptian archaeologist who also spoke good English.

Rolling hills to Saint-Lo. Enormously strong winds and showers again. I stayed with French Warm Showers Hosts. At first we were hesitant but Daniel, Joelle and Loren were very warm, friendly and helpful and made me very welcome. By the time we were dining and sharing a wine or two we were laughing and having a great time.

Loren, Joelle and Daniel

Saint-Lo

It is a pity that all of the other hosts that I contacted were unavailable as I find that I need the personal contact to keep my spirits up when travelling alone. Unable to communicate with anyone along the way, together with a week of extremely vigorous wind driving me backwards as I tried so hard to keep the peddles turning with my trailer increasing the required effort and wet through as well, my spirits were flagging seriously. Was this fun?  It didn't feel like it.

Saint-Lo to Genet was more of the same. Another 70kms which felt like 170kms. I hadn't eaten well either as I could not find gluten free carbs. I stopped at Gavray and had a delicious omelette, jambons et fromage with frites and salad and that helped a lot.

Straight afterwards my navigator directed me on a "shortcut" that went straight up from the Sienne river and up and up through twisting lanes. This was my worst "dog chasing day". Oh Boy! Those farmer keep some huge and fearsome canines. I was terrified that they would manage to get through or over the fences. Only one did and I swung my leg over from my bike out of the way as it came at me.

Road works when I was nearly there almost did me in. A large detour! I had struggled so hard just to move forward into the wind and now they wanted me to do an extra big circuit! Oh no, I just can't ride any further. I peered through the rain for a while. Eventually I dragged bike and trailer through the mud and debris along the side edge of the road works. One of the worker gave me "a Look" but when I apologised in English he let me go on. Luckily the rain was heavy, it hid the few tears I shed...I was close to the edge.

A rest day at Genet hostel with one helpful Canadian to converse with revived my energy. I cleaned the road sludge off my bike rims and chain. It had all been scraping as I rode along.

The Parisienne guests, a group of 8 were all very friendly. We used a mix of English and French words and gestures to communicate. I do actually have quite a large vocabulary of French words. I just get struck dumb when I front up to ask for something and cannot think of any of them.

Mont Saint Michel is an impressive sight! It towered up in front of me as I cycled out along the causeway. I saw it when I was 9 year old on a day visit from Jersey. It was well worth a second look. An old 13th Century Abbey that has been added to century by century.

I rode on to Pontorson Auberge de Jeunesse where an exceptionally personable young lad from San Fransisco and I "found each other". We were both desperate for a good lively full on chat. A self confessed son of hippie parents he was a delightful dinner companion in the hostel dining room.

Next day, still in the rain and sweating inside my raincoat I rode another 70kms to Rennes. Another big city to cycle in!

I was planning to go to La Loire and ride up the valley. A friend of Margaret who I met in Scotland was going to meet me there. Paul was in a motor home and spoke French. Unfortunately I let him down as overnight my plans completely changed.

My son Mick and I spoke on Skype. I was quite emotional and Mick pushed hard for me to join him at La Ciotat on the south coast of France. He badly wanted me to see his work environment and I badly needed some family contact.

Frantic efforts on the internet and finally I flew down, bike and all to Marseille. Mick and Edi, his girlfriend managed to get some time off and met me at the airport in the ships car. Mick is Ship Engineer and Edi Chief Stewardess on Blade a luxury motor yacht.

Edi and Mick

Mick has put me up in The Rose hotel for 3 days. What a treat. The 3 of us have been sightseeing this stunning area. Wow it is beautiful. The beaches are gorgeous, the swimming is absolutely magic and I can gaze up at the rocky backdrop as I backstroke through the water.

So wonderful to be with loved ones again.

OMG

 What an intro to France!

The Channel crossing was flat as a tack. I experienced a tiny moment of fame as I rode proudly onto the ferry beside a couple on a Harley Davison whilst the cars waited for us to board.  I was first off as well.

Then everything deteriorated.

Ready to go, I turned on my trusty navigator….NO MAPS… what the…?  I tried every setting. No luck. Oh well I could picture the map in my head and I had a map book…should be easy peasy… Wrong!

Cycling out of the busy city of Le Havre without a detailed map was a nightmare.

I tried to ask directions. The people were willing but the language issue blurred the directions to the point where I found myself on the M5 Motorway.  A definite BAD MOVE. To add to my difficulty there was construction work going on, large concrete barriers made it one narrow lane, dipping under bridges and uphill again with me fresh off the ferry busting myself to keep ahead of the honking shouting car drivers. Oh dear!

It was a long time before I was able to scurry off an exit to an industrial zone. I almost moved to the left hand side of the road at an intersection but just caught myself in time. After asking directions again…all in French but I managed to catch some familiar words and was able to repeat them with much nodding and gesturing on both sides I then rode off the wrong way!

The man yelled and gestured some more and I was on track. It was very hot.

Aha at last I found the velo route. Hooray. I cycled up the estuary past scattered parked cars. The local were all out blackberry picking on the roadside. I stopped and ate a few as well. Yum Yum

The first bridge was a huge high rise structure. It would have been like climbing a mountain to ride up it. It was part of the motorway though and not available to cyclists. Onwards I rode, upstream to Le Pont Tancarville. 

I stopped and chatted with a German cyclist who was also struggling to find his route. It was quite a complex bit of road construction. We were going in opposite directions so were able to help each other a little.

It was quite a climb over the bridge and I daren’t wobble as the cars were skimming closely by. Two French gentlemen gave me a clap at the top and another couple took my picture as I passed.

I found my way to the very picturesque village of Honfleur. It was wonderfully old world French.

I went into a shop to buy a little food for a night in a camp park. I picked up some fruit and then was busy trying to understand what was in the packets and cans when the shop assistant approached all hot and bothered. “ Vous manger la pomme” she said accusingly. I had absent mindedly pulled out my half eaten apple from my back pocket and was having a couple of bites. She thought I was stealing it from her shop. Luckily it still had the English sticker on. I never thought I would be so glad to have a sticker on my fruit. She was very apologetic but there were some sticky moments.

I enjoyed the next scenic bit but it was getting late. Riding up over the headland I twice detoured about 3 – 4 kilometers following the signs to a camp park. I didn’t find either one. 

By this time it was raining heavily, was 6.30 pm and the light was fading fast. I had my rear light flashing. I was getting very anxious so after asking directions once again I found myself in a hotel for the night. Better than a tent given the weather but very expensive and very basic. I trailed so much water in that I asked for a mop. I think I got a few brownie points there.

There are no tea making facilities in my room. I would kill for a cuppa or a glass of wine but I was showered and into my pyjamas before I noticed the lack. A bright idea came to me. I went and got my camp stove and was just about to light up when I remembered smoke detectors. Thank goodness I thought of that in time. I probably would have been kicked out of the hotel.

I have a long sausage for a pillow. At least it is cuddly!

The toilet is a shared one!

Tomorrow will be better I know.

I have managed to download my maps for a start. All I really need now is to be able to communicate more easily.

I wrote this to get it all off my chest to all of you.

Good night all. I should sleep well now.

700 Miles of Peddling.

What a wonderful ride. 3 weeks in southern and central England, peddling away with my trailer behind me. Up hill and down dale. Rough roads, smooth roads, steep ones and flat. Picturesque scenery and best of all were the people whose company I enjoyed on my journey.

Temporary friendships, maybe, but the warmth and quality of the connections makes a worthwhile impact for both parties and continually reinforces my interest, faith and trust in people the world over.We learn from and enjoy each other in our diversity.

It started on the 5 hour train journey south to Exeter in East Devon. Train staff were friendly and helpful. I was helped on and off the trains with my bike and trailer. Three disembarking commuters rushed to help when I almost missed one train! They said "just Jump On" and then shoved bike and trailer in after me as the doors popped shut. Phew! The guard came along later and apologised for yelling at me. He was anxious to get the train moving on time.

A young man by the name of Sim struck up a conversation immediately and we chatted all of the way south. A most interesting person, just finished University but already working in his chosen exciting career as an expedition photographer and outdoor adventure trainer. He has already travelled in many interesting parts of the world, revelling in climbing, white water rafting and many other active fun pursuits. 

From Exeter YHA I enjoyed a gorgeous ride south towards Plymouth, past Torquay and up a killer hill to Paignton. All day I was right beside the beach and basking in the  warm sunshine. I climbed a knoll and sat surveying the scene from a cliff face whilst I ate lunch. The train line is practically on the beach and so provides a great ride. I peddled. It was all very colourful and cheerful with many bright flowers in baskets and beds. Pensioners were everywhere, licking ice creams as they took advantage of their free bus trips on the long coastal route.

After a very comfortable and social evening at the hostel I cycled down the other side of the river Exe  to Exmouth, mostly on bike routes but a couple of times battling for space with large lorries before finding a rail trail up through parks and woodlands in the sunshine.

I must add that I am never alone for long. Every time I stop for any reason I attract people. Fascinated by my rig and a woman cycling alone. Especially when I stop and boil the billy for a cuppa, no-one seems to do that here! Then I open my mouth and they always know that I am an Aussie. They have so many questions and lots of helpful suggestions as to which route to take. I have learnt to keep my plans loose enough to incorporate their local knowledge into my day.

I had a great day but oh boy the challenge was huge for me. To start with four such steep looonnng hills. A bit like the Little Engine that Could! I think I can I think I can ....Oh my gosh, can I get to the top? Yes of course. Even though I had to walk some bits. One hill, two hills done then the hill at Salcombe Regis. So very steep and long. I separated bike and trailer and was relaying them up the hill barely able to pull the trailer up the steep incline. A genteel older lady and her spaniel popped out of the woods. She insisted on helping me pull the trailer up. A few yards on and a council garden lorry pulled up in front of us. Out jumped two likely lads and said, "here ladies, we can take that for you." I was 3/4 up the hill but they threw bike and trailer in the back on top of garden refuse, I thanked my lovely lady helper, waved goodbye and rode to the top sitting up between the lads in the lorry. Whooosh, down the other side I flew. Yippee. 

Hill four was hard and although I looked hopefully at drivers no-one stopped. A number gave me the thumbs up and a cheery wave as I almost ended up in the riotous roadside stinging nettles when I moved in close to the hedges to let them past.

The village of Branscombe was so pretty as I descended down to Beer. I saw several grey squirrels that day.

Beer Head camp park was at the top of a steep hill overlooking white cliffs through a sea mist. Curious people stopped by regularly as I sat on my little foam mat and warmed my baked beans and boiled up a cuppa or cooked my morning porridge. Another friendly night but packing up in rain was a bit of a "damper".

Town buses do not carry bikes but in pouring rain a driver took pity on me and I folded my bike and loaded my trailer on to escape some of the 6 wet hills on a day where my road profile looked a bit like this:- WWWW

My panic was justified. Many times cars backed up to let the bus through narrow wet steep roads bordered by 12ft hedges lined with the ubiquitous stinging nettles. Where would I have fitted into this picture with my bike and trailer?

Again my fellow passengers were fascinated and full of advice. Especially one old auburn haired harridan. What a character! She smartly  and fiercely disputed other passengers directions whilst being all sweetness and light to me. She had everyone smirking and giving me the wink. How funny.

Riding into the tiny village of Litton Cheney,West Dorset the weather fined up and I went on an exploratory circuit to Bridport  and Burton Bradstock. 

The YHA was great...an old cheese factory with a cycling warden who produced maps and helped me plan a  cycle friendly route for the next day. Great, a real success with a short train journey through the city of Bournemouth.

At Litton Cheny my room mate Gloria, 3 cyclists and I had a great night out at the White horse Inn next door. The Morris dancers were cheeky and we had a ball joining in with them.

I was thrilled at Brockenhurst to see the wild ponies from the New Forest wandering amongst the traffic in the village. They have legal right of way and the whole area has cattle grids to keep them from wandering into houses or too far afield. In the forest are ponies, deer and pigs. The pigs are needed to eat the acorns so that the ponies don't eat too many. The acorns cause digestive problems in horses.

I cycled up a rail trail into the forest to stay in the Burley YHA. A mansion in the forest with some very congenial guests. The sitting room was the hub and people wandered in and joined in with their  tales of adventure throughout the evening. Uday, who had brought his family and Ian were two whose company I found particularly enlivening.

Onwards to Fordingbridge and a very pleasant evening with Warm Showers cycling hosts Mike and Anita. Mike was brilliant in that he led me along rural roads skirting around hills for 18 miles the next day. Mike and Anita divide their lives into canal boat living, staying in their flat and cycle touring the world.

At Cholderton YHA I was given a warm welcome as the proprietor of the 40 acre Cholderton Charlies Childrens Farm and YHA had just completed a Lands End to John O' Groats ride and was fascinated by my travels. It was an upmarket hostel with ensuite bathrooms for each dorm and a link through to the farm and cafe. I dined out that evening and wandered around the farm with other guests.

Cholderton YHA

The next day I first avoided a heavy downpour by swimming laps in a military/civilian pool in Tidworth and had a lovely hot shower afterwards. Gr8. I then  followed army Major Glen's directions and  travelled through the slightly spooky and gloomy Savemake ( "savva makky") Forest. I  stopped at times to eat sweet and juicy wild raspberries.mmmm. Nobody around at all.

I arrived at my new warm showers hosts, Bill and Pip. They looked after me beautifully and Pip and I leant over the maps as she showed me the very best route to follow next day. 50 miles to delightful Bourton on the Water in the Cotswolds. If you haven't got a thatched roof around here you are the odd one out .It was a good ride and Pip's directions worked a treat.

A heavy downpour for which I was unprepared left me soaked and chilly brrrr. I couldn't face my planned night in a tent and so luxuriated in a B&B with a long soak in a hot bath. My hostess was a bit taken aback at my bedraggled appearance. She was non too pleased when I padded through in wet socks leaving foot prints right through the house.

I couldn't cook a meal there nor could I return with warm food so I sat on a bench in town and ate poor quality Chinese take away food. The village was booked out. There were queues for restaurant tables and hot chips was my only other option. Give me the YHA any day. They have well equipped self catering kitchens and comfortable sitting rooms and dining rooms with good social contacts. In a B&B you are isolated in your room.

Next stop, Stratford on Avon. Another really interesting and attractive town. Packed out with summer holiday makers.Shakespeare's name is written large here.The river was full of row boats or cruise boats. The passengers enjoying the scenery and sunshine and a great many white swans also cruising about. An Indian movie was being filmed on the banks with a large crowd watching from the Bridge as the star swooned in a row boat!.

At the YHA I came across Ian again with his friend Elke. Great to see him again. I had no booking for the next night anywhere. Saturday night in peak season and things were looking grim. I might have to walk the streets! Ian offered the back of his car. He was booked into the hostel. It would do at a pinch but would provide minimal comfort.  I sent out a damsel in distress email.

Bob came to my rescue. We had got along very well when we shared adjoining seats on the flight from Singapore to Dubai back in March.  I knew he lived somewhere near Birmingham but where? It turned out that he was only 35 miles away.

I peddled of with renewed enthusiasm, mostly on lovely country roads but oh dear Coventry was a cyclists nightmare. Several massive roundabouts with cars whizzing every which way towards the 8 exits and me peddling frantically through the melee hoping I would live to see the other side. Actually the traffic all gave way to me and despite arguments with my navigator which told me to take the second exit when it meant the 3rd exit (dumbo navigator) I made it.

Bob is always smiling and cheerful and soon had me comfortably ensconced in his large motor home parked in his driveway. I really enjoyed my 2 nights staying there. I loved his friends and he was so easy to relax with. Thanks Bob...wonderful R&R.

Ilam Hall YHA

I cycled up near Derby to Ockbrook. I was in for a treat with Dianne my next Warm Showers host. Her husband was away. We spent the evening planning the next day and enjoying Dianne's tasty home cooking. Dianne has great flexibility in her job and decided she would rather ride to the Peak District with me than go to work. I was worried about my slow speed so Dianne solved that problem. She carried my 2 panniers full whilst I had a half empty trailer to tow. It was a fun day, we stopped for lunch in Ashbourne and  continued almost to Ilam when I had a puncture. Maybe it was something to do with us following a hedge trimmer cutting the hawthorne hedges!

Dianne turned back to ride the 30 miles  home and I changed my tyre with a little help from a couple of blokes from a garage who loosened my tight wheel nuts for me. I then careered downhill to discover Ilam with it's lovely Swiss chalet style housing. The YHA 16th Century Ilam Hall is a National Trust Property, a Victorian Gothic Mansion set in large and beautiful parklands with  peaceful walk trails along the Manifold river, great facilities and packed with interesting travellers.

After climbing up out of Ilam with spectacular views of the Peaks, I rode along the Tissington rail trail and picnicked in Rose Wood with a couple I met along the way. They directed me along yet another gravel trail and minor roads to Youlgreave YHA.

Luckily I had booked 2 nights because my trailer hitch had nearly shorn through! The local garage directed me to engineers at Rowsville. My navigator lured me off main roads as usual which took me through some very hilly country with 2 gorgeous villages. Stanton in the Peak was a really steep climb but as I wasn't towing the trailer I actually enjoyed it and the views were marvellous. I also visited Medieval and Tudor Haddon Hall. One of the Duke of Rutland's seats.

Haddon Hall

The engineers were very obliging and for 10 pounds I had a stronger hitch connection. I spent the day riding around the local area exploring. I am definitely improving on hill climbing. Have to!

I continued on into  Bakewell next morning and then on to the Monsal Trail, recently opened as a cycle path. It took me all the way across the southern Peak District to Wye past old station cafes and via several very long dark tunnels, dimly lit, eerie and fascinating. I rode into hilly Buxton. Again I didn't feel like camping so stayed at a B&B. Very comfortable and I ate a large breakfast. Buxton is a beautiful old spa town where people used to "take the waters" for the good of their health.

From Buxton I had a 40 mile ride to Warburton. How amazing, I really enjoyed the very long climb out of Buxton with a marvellous panoramic view as I strived up and over the top. I am definitely doing it easier now. The long descent was fantastic, not so rapid as to need to use my breaks much. I loved it and again got the thumbs up from some other cyclists. whoohooo!

I found the next !2 miles of canal path riding really interesting. There are many miles of canals to ride along with hundreds of colourful and quaint canal boats travelling along them. In this way, I skirted across the bottom of Manchester and on to busy Stockport where I had huge difficulty finding the River Mersey Pathway. Everyone I asked gave me different directions. Thoroughly frazzled in the late afternoon, I found it. The path was so rough that I didn't stay on it for long. I didn't have the time to go slowly over the rocks and holes.

I found my way onto busy roads, peddling furiously to make the next 20 miles to Warburton camp park. Not concentrating I rode flat out up a kerb on the bike path beside the highway and slipped sideways in loose gravel ...kerbang...I went down managing somehow to control my fall a little, flat on my back for a minute then I sat up. Two girls parked and came rushing over. I was bruised and had a grazed knee ( like a kid!). The girls were very comforting and one gave me a big hug before I peddled off, knee bleeding, with no time to lose.

The park was run by gypsies and there was a problem. The boiler had burst and there was no hot water at all. Help was at hand though. I really needed a hot shower not just to clean my sweaty body but to soothe the bruises and clean my cut knee. Seeing this the manager took me to a nearby house where she had organized for me to lock myself in alone and have a long hot shower or bath if I preferred. Wow that felt better.

I spent an enjoyable evening being social in a motorhome with Jo and Sheila, an interesting couple of teachers.

I packed up next morning and rode on to Carisbrook near Southport and set up my tent in a field on a farm campsite. Nigel who I had met at Arnside on my previous journey cycled down from Preston and we went for a coffee.

With plenty of space, excellent hot showers and a few friendly neighbours I enjoyed my 2 nights at Carisbrook. 5 year old Alex was concerned for me. He noticed that I was all alone and invited me to join his family for a cup of tea and some chicken. I loved his Liverpudlian accent but he was bilingual and spoke Polish also like his mother. He had a fantastic personality and really was the highlight of my stay there. He and little brother Conrad went backwards and forwards from their tent to mine continually.  I loved their company, so enthusiastic, inquisitive and cheerful.

I rode into nearby Southport, a seaside resort and very busy but really interesting. I did a bit of "ladies" shopping at the sales. Bargain shoes and charity shop pants to work in. I wandered through some of the many game parlours, fascinated by the crowds throwing away their money and smiling at the same time...and they keep telling me that I am amazing! I didn't join the few swimmers on the cool, grey, cloudy day as they frolicked around in knee deep brown water beside the long pier. Not tempting at all after all of the years spent swimming in the crystal clear balmy waters of the Great Barrier Reef!

On my last day I cycled the last 30 miles beside the main road for much of the journey. I wasn't ready to stop peddling and rode along the Lytham waterfront delaying my journeys end. I had a super time. I loved it.

Now for 4 weeks work and then I am off to peddle around parts of France. Je suis Australian...Au secours..Au secours!

.

A Tour of Scotland

Scotland is a wonderful extravaganza of wild and beautiful scenery.

Spittal of Glenshee

Mysterious dark  forests abound with red squirrels and deer. Green pastures are dotted with black faced sheep coated with luxurious warm fleeces. Hairy long horned, highland coos (cattle) graze the meadows. There are mile upon mile of bare moorlands.


The ubiquitous  mountains tower over all and sparkling burns rush and tumble from the heath covered hills and over the rocks, often cascading out in a wondrous white water display.So much water! So much beauty!

Wild flowers give a lovely show of colour all around the countryside. Bluebells, buttercups, iris, foxgloves, daisies and many others.When we left the heath was just coming into flower clothing the vast hills in a purple haze. Purple rhododendron bushes added to the display but are a menace, flourishing in the wild and overtaking the natural vegetation. Programs are in place for their eradication.

Our first nights were spent in the Lakes District, Cumbria, Northern England.We stayed at Ambleside YHA with 270 beds, overlooking Lake Windamere. Many hostels are in prime locations with delightful outlooks, historic buildings and many surrounding walk paths.

Ancient standing stones.

Ambleside Hostel

Macca found Rob, a friend from Tasmania in the hostel and I invited Alexis a Melbourne girl out to Coniston for some walking with us. In the evening, some young at heart, seasoned walkers entertained the multinational comfy sitting room full of travellers with an impromptu concert of piano accordion and singing. "You are my sunshine..." and many more old favourites.

    The Beatrix Potter museum was a delight for me with Peter Rabbit, Squirrel Nutkin, Mrs Tiggywinkle and all of their friends on display. The Japanese especially love them.

In no time we were into the swing of hostelling. Check in to the male and female dorms, store our food in the kitchen ready for cooking, make our beds and find the drying room for our laundry. For me it was ear plugs in if there were snorers. In the morning, strip the beds, enjoy breakfast and get out on the road.

Macca always walked before breakfast and after dinner. Sometimes I walked in the long evenings too but having walked 3 - 5 hours most days I preferred to socialize and download photos and catch up with emails.

All puffed up!

Most days we set out in the car and stopped frequently for photo opportunities and walks. From 5  minutes stroll  up to 6 hours tramp. Whatever seemed like a good thing at the time.

A big storm in the morning at Ambleside cleared and in the afternoon we loved the excessive gushing water roaring down from every slope and flooding the valleys. We climbed up Kirkstone pass, clinging to the hill in 80mph wind gusts.

Heading north east to the Southern Borders region we were piped over the Scottish border after staying at Bellingham in a converted barn with 2 bikies.

On past Jedburg's 12th C Augustinian  Abbey to stay at a stately old mansion in Melrose and to walk part of St Cuthberts way. What fantastic views over villages and farmlands and the 12th C Cistercian Monks Abbey. We copped a hail storm up at the top but were well dressed for it.

The Leaderfoot railway viaduct over the Tweed River was very impressive to see. It was operational from 1865 until 1965.

We drove out to Berwick on Tweed and St Abbs head. We walked around dramatic sheer cliffs and gullies looking out at the sea stacks and hearing the shrieking seabirds soaring in the updrafts and nesting in the cliffs.

Skirting around busy Edinburgh and continuing northwards past Stirling Castle, we stopped at Kenmore to look and listen to a traditional Scottish wedding with kilts and bagpipes.

We found our next accommodation near Aberfeldy at Fearnan on Loch Tay. A Buddhist and a commune in the making. Very interesting, cosy and comfortable with some stimulating conversation.
In this area, the Weem walk, the Birks of Aberfeldy and The Robert Burns Achran Falls walks were all gorgeous.

Robert Burns

On the way to Pitlochry we saw a bungy jumper leaping from Garry Bridge...not for me!  My favourite overall walk was here. Past lochs and burns and waterfalls, through woodlands and forest up the pass to Killiecrankie and circling around, up, up, up over the hills with a magnificent view back to Pitlochry. 5 hours and all just amazing weather and natural beauty.

Continuing north  to Braemar, we were in the high country now as we climbed the ridge at Spittal of Glenshee and saw a snow hare and a herd of about 60 wild deer. The ski lifts were idle for the summer.

Deer oh deer

We drove on in the warm sunshine to Aberdeen via Ballater, Banchory and Stonehaven with its ruins of  Drochit castle. It was a large and busy hostel that night.

Still in the high country we stayed at a tiny village called Tomintoul then onto Aviemore with its many outdoor equipment shops. Hiking boots and clothes are very much less expensive here in the UK. A pity I had no need of more and nor could I afford to accumulate more gear over in the Uk.

We climbed Mt Cairngorm above the snowline and coming down saw a ptarmagan with fluffy new chicks running about the mountain. The funicular carried people who weren't feeling like a huge climb up to the snug cafe at the top. It was 2 - 5 degrees C on the mountain that day.

Pitlochry from my window

On to Loch Ness, we missed seeing the wee monster, she was keeping a low profile that day.

At Drumnadrochit we had our first experience in an affiliated  "backpackers" hostel. We weren't too keen as they drank and partied until 3 am and helped themselves to our food. This was very unusual. It only happened in one other hostel, also labelled "backpackers" the other hostels were all either YHA or SYHA and were marvellous with helpful friendly wardens, quiet nights and with an interesting variety off fellow travellers and historic premises.

 We have seen a great many castles on our journey. It really reinforces the historic atmosphere of the country as do the many old homes and bridges.

Drochit Castle ruins.

We have also begun seeing seals now, basking on the rocks.

On we drove up the East Coast right to the top at John O' Groats.Very remote and with hardly any trees due to the strong cyclonic winds that blow so often. We took the ferry and a coach tour out to the Orkney Isles.. 

What an isolated community. Many people have lived there for generations and are very proud of their Norwegion  heritage. The islands are all green pastures and farms. Weird  to see no trees.  Approximately 20,000 residents farm and fish and work in the towns for a living. The sun sets at 12.30pm on the 21st June and rises at 3 am. Twilight in between means that there is no darkness.

We found this as we went "across the top" in mid June. There was no darkness at all just a lovely peaceful soft  blue light with a pink tinge. By contrast in mid winter they have barely 5 hours of daylight. The locals love to join in their many ceilidh sessions during this time.

We went on to Tongue and then Durness. A fantastic feeling of remoteness exists up along the North Coast. we watched many puffins flying in an out of their burrows as we roamed around the craggy cliff tops.

Turning the corner we began our journey down the dramatic west coast where huge craggy mountains rise straight up from the lochs up to 3,500ft.

Down on Skye we walked the Quiraing and the Old Man of Storr where parts of Harry Potter were filmed. The rock formations are spectacular and I was puffing quite a bit as I climbed up for the superb panoramic views along the top. We had taken fellow travellers from the hostel that day. Rouel from Holland and Viola from Germany. We lost them when they went to explore but they hitch hiked back into Portree afterwards.

Another ferry trip took us out to the Outer Hebrides. I was fascinated by the many remains of the olden day "Black houses" They were still lived in right up to the 1970's. Some have been restored into quaint holiday accommodation and 2 are hostels.

On South Uist I experienced my most rugged hostel yet. A shed with 6 rustic bunks and a simple kitchen in one room. I shared this with 5 men! One was cooking up a smelly lobster phewey! A peat fire kept us cosy in the evening. We saw great stacks of peat outside many homes and saw many patches of newly cut peat spread out to dry on the heath. It has its own distinctive smoke smell.

The last Hebridean night was spent at Lochmaddy where otters play outside the hostel we stayed at. I had met Bruce and Mary, first at the hostel, then out walking and afterwards at the local hotel where I went to listen to traditional Celtic music.

An old mill. Harris, Hebrides.

I had a delightful evening as Bruce and Mary drove me out to a hunting lodge to join them at a village "jam" session or ceilidh. It was fantastic. I sat in the circle with the very talented musicians. They had all just finished a 9 month traditional music course. Mary and Sophia sang...the whole noisy lodge fell silent when Sophia sang solo. It was a beautiful sound. The boys played fiddle, ukelele, banjo, bagpipes, flute and guitar. A happy evening.

South Uist, Outer Hebrides.

Next morning I said goodbye to Macca. Ours had not been a happy travelling partnership and I decided I was better to spend the last 10 days alone. The people over here in the UK are amazing...wonderful. It seems that as soon as I need a helping hand the guardian angels appear.

Ray and Diane were lined up at the ferry terminal. They offered to give me a lift down through Skye and across to Fort William. I enjoyed their company and they wouldn't leave me until they saw me booked into the hostel there. Thank you. Very much appreciated.

It was so lovely to be free again. Next morning...wow whoopee yoohoo! A phone message...Very Good friends from home in Manly were in nearby Oban. Oh how excellent.

I jumped on the bus. I had no contact number so emailed other friends trying to get their UK number. I checked at the ferry terminal for Mull.YES! they were booked next morning I could find them there. Meanwhile I rapidly walked and scanned the town of Oban. At about 6.30 pm THERE THEY WERE. walking towards me. They were amazed at how I found them.

"Old Friends"

We spent a lovely 3 days together on the isles of Mull and Iona. How lovely to be able to laugh and chat merrily and freely with friends. Jenny and Frank enjoyed living for two nights in the lap of luxury in a posh castle. They could sample as many varieties of scotch whisky as they pleased out there. I  was happy in the hostel at picturesque Tobermory.

Tobermory, Mull

Frank and Jenny were moving north so we exchanged farewell hugs and I jumped on a bus to Loch Lomond SYHA at Auchedennan House. What a beauty. A castle wowee it was gorgeous with a magnificent view across to Ben Lomond across the Loch. What a treat.

It was booked out the next night. Phil who was also staying in the castle overheard me telling the girls I was dining with about my struggle to carry my belongings without a car. Macca had the car. I had not set out ready to carry everything so my packs were now unsuitable. Phil came over and offered to give me a ride. He was going home to Northhampton. Great!

From my window. Ben Lomond
and Loch Lomond.

My Castle

A comfortable ride in his BMW took me to Carnforth where he helped carry my bags onto the station platform. A short train ride later and I was at the pretty seaside village of Arnside. Still a 2 mile struggle to carry my belongings uphill to the hostel.

Wait for it. A few wisecracks back and forth between me and a coach driver who was collecting guests from the train and I walked on struggling to carry everything. Next I heard a voice calling me back. He spoke quietly in my ear, telling to jump in the front of the bus and he would drop me at the corner near to the hostel.

Wonderful people the British

4 peaceful days to walk, socialize with the village people and fellow travellers, write my blog and then return to see Marie and family again and to enjoy a couple of weeks carer companion work again before the next cycling trip.

I think I am better off on the bike. at least I can peddle away on my own if needs be! Fast.