JUNE 2020: The slow process of scanning at 1,200 DPI, selected pictures from our 16,000 35mm slide library continues; I have a lot of countries still to cover and as part three continues, you will find some completed, some waiting for additional material and others only as far done as the introduction.
"W.O.T. W" (PART THREE ) COUNTRIES STARTED ON ARE LISTED BELOW BUT NOT NECESSARILY COMPLETED; THOSE LISTED WITH A (C) ARE COMPLETE AS THEY ARE GOING TO BE. ******************************************************************************************************************
PART THREE W.0.W. STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION
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"W.O.T. W" (PART THREE ) COUNTRIES STARTED ON ARE LISTED BELOW BUT NOT NECESSARILY COMPLETED; THOSE LISTED WITH A (C) ARE COMPLETE AS THEY ARE GOING TO BE. ******************************************************************************************************************
PART THREE W.0.W. STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION
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The United Kingdom (UK) is an island nation in northwestern Europe and is comprised of four countries: England, Scotland, and Wales (which collectively make up Great Britain) and Northern Ireland (which is variously described as a country, province or region of Ireland).
England, birthplace of Shakespeare and The Beatles, is home to the capital, London, a globally influential centre of finance and culture.
England is also site of Neolithic Stonehenge, Roman spas and centuries-old universities at Oxford and Cambridge.
Population: 66.65 million (2019) Eurosta)
In the United Kingdom, England is where a lot of the action is and there’s a lot to see and do there But we won't be forgetting about Scotland, Wales and Ireland, they'll get their fair shoe late. London, with its its“melting pot” of ethnic diversity(1), is now 10 million strong and a magnetic place(2) to visit.
Throughout our travelling years we seem to end up there several times for one reason or another; the city is one of the travel hubs of the world(1) and we used it as a home-base to plan forays into Africa, Asia, Far East, the Americas and Pacific and Atlantic islands. We had no problem with returning to London many times, once out of the city there was always something new to discover(2).
As for the English themselves, they are generally friendly(1), chatty, history geeks(2), animal & flower lovers(3), candy freaks(4), Garden fanatics(5) and would soon cease to exist without their local pub(6-7); we had no problem with them other than the fact that they like to mind everybody else’s business as well as their own but we could live with that.
"they are generally friend'y, chatty(1)"
"history geeks(2)"
"animal & flower lovers(3)"
"(CANDY FREAKS"
"Garden fanatics(5)"
"and would soon cease to exist without their local pub(6-7)"
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In England, some 56 million people live in an area about 130,395 km²; You may think that would mean wall-to-wall people throughout the land but in really, one of England’s attractions is the extent of its manicured rural areas(1) interlaced by meandering tree/hedge lined roads(2), narrow, sealed country lanes(3) that provide unlimited opportunities to explore away from the bustle of the cities(4).
Most of the population are city dwellers and live crammed into dense, city suburbia(1) but what kept bringing us back to visit this part of the world time and time again was that the lesser of the population live in smaller, charming towns many of which have postcard appeals of their own(2). Historic towns like Oxford and Cambridge, famed for the universities and colleges had their moments(3-5) but for us we had so much more fun exploring quaint, Photo friendly thatched roof villages the variety of which was never ending; unlike anything that that we grew up with(5-6); even the B&B's had so much charm of their own with their facades of clinging vines(7) specially in the fall.
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It seemed that every time we returned to England, we would discover different things like the picturesque county of Kent where rhododendrons were even taller than the houses(1); or East Anglia where windmills(2) actually work and a forest where Robin Hood once flourished. As well, there were always new trails(3) that we had not previously discovered; trails that climbed high above the picturesque lakes(4) of England’s “Lakes District” which in autumn are ablaze with reds and golds(5).
"WE WOULD DISCOVER NEW THINGS LIKE THE PICTURESQUE COUNTY OF "KENT WHERE RHODODENDRONS WERE EVEN TALLER THAN THE HOUSES(1)"
"OR EAST ANGLIA WHERE WINDMILLS ACTUALLY WORK"
"A FORES(3)T WHERE ROBIN HOOD ONCE FLOURISHED."
"AS WELL, THERE WERE ALWAYS NEW TRAILS(4)"
"TRAILS THAT CLIMBED HIGH(5) ABOVE THE PICTURESQUE LAKES "
"“LAKES DISTRICT” WHICH IN AUTUMN ARE ABLAZE WITH REDS AND GOLDS(6)"
England was our first encounter with a country heavily steeped in history(1) especially when compared to our much younger Australian history. As is the case with Europe generally, there was so much to see(2-3), so much to learn, but at least in the UK they spoke English, well sort of! Growing up in Australia with its wide open, rain starved(4) spaces, red deserts, golden beaches and sunburned, sweeping plains it was little wonder really that we returned many times to visit the rain blessed, evergreen, flower bedecked England(5).
Our introduction to the United Kingdom began IN February 1967 when we disembarked in Southampton after a six week cruise in the "Fairsky"/1 from Australia. It was along time at sea and we didn't fare well with it but we made a lot of new friends./2 It is also worthy of note that part of the entertainment on the fair sky was a group of four young lads that in time became known worldwide as the Bee Gees. Full of ideas, hopes and plans we soon realized how ignorant we were regarding the northern hemisphere because on the train trip from Southampton to London, we became convinced that a blight/3 had ravaged the land for the entire two hour journey; having spent all our lives thus far living in semi tropical conditions, we had no idea what effect that winter has on the landscape in the northern hemisphere. London/4's climate is maritime and coupled with the dampness, the city at 6c was freezing and even colder in our hotel room until we started pumping coins into a gas meter to get some heat. But the coins soon ran out as did the heat and as it was already dark, we figured it was time for bed anyway and fully closed, we climbed under some sheets, cuddled up and tried to get warm; it was then that Wendy took note of her wrist watch glowing in the dark and realized it was only 4:00 PM in the afternoon…… Oh My God, we had so much to learn..........we hadn't even had dinner yet, nor did we bother. Frost/5 on our hotel room window next morning indited the lack of room heating.
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"but we made a lot of new friends"
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"we became convinced that a blight/3 had ravaged the land "
"London's climate is maritime "
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"Frost/5 on our hotel room window next morning "
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ROADRANGER
With our pajamas under our jeans and two pairs of socks to keep warm, we roamed London and its suburbs/1 by Metro, bus and on foot looking for and eventually buying a new, quality, English made "Roadranger" motor-home/2 which soon proved to be a great asset to us (it was heated) as it provided free accommodation in the years to come which in itself was a saving of thousands of dollars. By playing hide and seek with the authorities/locals, we rarely used a campground and Cooking/3 our own meals with supplies bought from street markets/4, was a lifestyle that we were to follow throughout a 20 years around the world journey that began from London.
With our pajamas under our jeans and two pairs of socks to keep warm, we roamed London and its suburbs/1 by Metro, bus and on foot looking for and eventually buying a new, quality, English made "Roadranger" motor-home/2 which soon proved to be a great asset to us (it was heated) as it provided free accommodation in the years to come which in itself was a saving of thousands of dollars. By playing hide and seek with the authorities/locals, we rarely used a campground and Cooking/3 our own meals with supplies bought from street markets/4, was a lifestyle that we were to follow throughout a 20 years around the world journey that began from London.
"roamed London and its suburbs"
" English made "Roadranger" motor-home"
"and Cooking our own meals"
STREET MARKET
LONDON, A LEASNING EXPERIENCE London(1) is the third largest European city and we could not have asked for a better training ground that accommodated our independent lifestyle; with so much of interest to see there, Although we returned to London /2-7 several times over the years; our first visit was not so much a sight seeing one but much- more of an information gathering one, arranging visas, attending embassies and consulates, visiting the automobile Association, following up on warranty service with our new vehicle interior, setting up mail forwarding, opening a bank account and following up on money transfers, purchasing camping equipment, modifying our vehicle to suit our needs; actually the tasks seemed never ending and very tiring. Our day started by moving into supermarkets car-parks at 8:am for breakfast /8, leave our home there all day,/9 perhaps returning for lunch; after dinner and a chat, we would make up the bed and move out just before 11:pm when they closed the security gates and then relocate quietly into suburbia to sleep( last pix). We could write a novel filled with experiences that we encountered doing exactly that in many world cities.
"London /1 itself is one of the great cities of the world"
Trooping of the colour.
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QUEEN ELIZABETH
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"Our day started by moving into supermarkets car-parks at 8:am for breakfast"
" leave our home there all day,
"and then relocate quietly into suburbia to sleep("
ESCAPING LONDON PART ONE
Being in London in February-March meant that tourists were few so we had no lineups to deal with although waiting foe the Russian consulate to approve our itinerary in the Soviet block was frustratingly slow. But, the delays did provide the time to test the living capabilities of our new motor home in cold,countryside conditions. (1-2) and also take advantage of the relatively deserted cross country foot trails.(3) In England, hundreds of miles of tracks and trails crisscrossing the land over what we would consider in Australia to be private property but hikers have rite of passage anywhere in the countryside(4-6) as long as they respect the property owners's privacy and ensure that any gate they open is always closed again. England has it's fair share of hikers; however, such activity dwindles to a dribble in winter which suited us fine so that on extended weekends, we could escape to the highlands for some serious unhindered hiking.(7-8)
Being in London in February-March meant that tourists were few so we had no lineups to deal with although waiting foe the Russian consulate to approve our itinerary in the Soviet block was frustratingly slow. But, the delays did provide the time to test the living capabilities of our new motor home in cold,countryside conditions. (1-2) and also take advantage of the relatively deserted cross country foot trails.(3) In England, hundreds of miles of tracks and trails crisscrossing the land over what we would consider in Australia to be private property but hikers have rite of passage anywhere in the countryside(4-6) as long as they respect the property owners's privacy and ensure that any gate they open is always closed again. England has it's fair share of hikers; however, such activity dwindles to a dribble in winter which suited us fine so that on extended weekends, we could escape to the highlands for some serious unhindered hiking.(7-8)
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ESCAPING LONDON TO THE COTSWOLDS
During our 20 years of motor home travel we returned to London several times on travel business and when in need of a break, we always escaped the bustle of the city to revisit the nearby Cotswold Hills only two hours away from central London; the hills are full of tree shrouded roadways, cross country foot tracks, narrow access lanes, secluded walkways, and all leading to and passing through historic towns and rustic villages with picturesque home, pubs, restaurants and B&B's', for us the Cotswold are a classic example of the many charms of England and the 12 photos that follow help to indicate why.
During our 20 years of motor home travel we returned to London several times on travel business and when in need of a break, we always escaped the bustle of the city to revisit the nearby Cotswold Hills only two hours away from central London; the hills are full of tree shrouded roadways, cross country foot tracks, narrow access lanes, secluded walkways, and all leading to and passing through historic towns and rustic villages with picturesque home, pubs, restaurants and B&B's', for us the Cotswold are a classic example of the many charms of England and the 12 photos that follow help to indicate why.
E
Generally speaking UK residents are receptive to visitors even moreso when they learn you originated from England, (the “home country”), we soon found that Great Britain’s are happy to have a chat but that sort of thing tends to wane somewhat when you crossed into Scotland, folks there can be a somewhat dour lot at times; understandable I guess considering the inclement climate they have to put up with at times . But when it comes to chatting, the Irish lead the field, sometimes you can’t shut them up, especially in the pubs which seem to be the main hub of their social life as it is in the UK generally. Depending where you were in the Kingdom, we found the locals hard to understand at times but that’s part of the charm of exploring this part of the world; the variety is endless such the folks in Yorkshire who seem to have an abbreviation for just about everything; star performers when it comes to understanding their form of English would have to be the Welsh with their distinctive Celtic culture and language which carried on into their sign posting which were outrageous at times. However, the Irish accents remains my favourite derivation of the English language; at times it is almost musical.
As much as we loved England with its never ending supply of historic cathedrals, castles, palaces and public gardens, the 56 million that live there can wear you down at times and in our case, especially when it came to parking our motorhome by day or finding a place to sleep overnight. It wasn’t all that easy to find a place that someone was not going to complain about, often about petty stuff like even though we were legally parked at a street meter, a shop owner ventured forth to inform us that we were blocking his view.... the English were like that.
But the antidote to all that was simply to cross the border into Scotland, a paradisiacal land tailor-made to our style of freedom travel with hiking trails and solitude in abundance. Yes there were some big cities too but for us, Scotland was primarily a land of lonely mountain with hidden Valley’s that echoed to the calls of Red deer in rut, unfettered, snowmelt streams that flowed, sometimes by waterfall down erosion worn gorges, mysterious, misty hidden glens, isolated Lakes (lochs) haunted by the call of loons, distant dark and broody, windswept islands the beckoned you to come ashore and touch them. Because of our great love of nature and the freedom to camp at will and spontaneously take to a trail, Scotland proved to be our favourite UK experience with Ireland running a close second. The picturesque charm of the English countryside is undeniable but equally so in Scotland but in a very different way; there is an unspoiled wildness to it rarely found in England especially in the northwest coast around Scourie where we found deserted golden beaches that beckoned you to stay a while which we did at times but never staying too long because of the cool winds; nor did we venture into the sea for fear of frostbite (just kidding but you get the picture). Not for a moment are we thinking that if we returned to Scotland today in (2020) that we would find it as it was when we were last there; that is before full scale tourism mushroomed into the blight that it is today, the planet will never be the same again. The untouched wildness of the “Spittal of Glenshee” (love the Scotties names) shown in this picture, now boasts three and five star hotels; for us it was farmland and sheep and we cut our own track in the snow. England’s Stonehenge is another example of how tourism changed a when we were there we camped at night within walking distance of the site and have not forgotten the strange experience of walking amongst those stones at midnight with a full moon thrown in. Imagination is a wonderful thing but we felt like those stones were moving in on us, so creepy, as if they resented our presence. In comparison the whole area is fenced off now and access is strictly controlled to prevent people from carving their initials or spray painting the stones. There was so many nooks and crannies to explore on the Scottish mainland we really didn’t give a lot of thought to visit the island’s, that meant car ferries and more expense but as it turned out, we were camped one evening on a headland overlooking the sea (our favourite type of location) and spotted a tiny car ferry sitting idle by a jetty; with our binoculars we could read the name Glenelg on a small hotel nearby. Consulting our reading material, we soon realized we had come upon a fairy to the Isle of Skye but what surprised us was that the stretch of water between us and the island was so minimal that Wendy and I felt we could almost swim across to the islands from where we were camped and that fact set us wondering about the song we had had learned at school which read as “speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing over the sea to Skye;” that indeed seemed to be some kind of exaggeration. That being said and because we were the only vehicle there that next morning, we could not resist the temptation to “cross over the sea to Skye.” That spontaneous decision proved to be one of the best we have ever made for we had discovered an undeveloped, rugged, mountainous, camera friendly island where we logged some of our best hiking how experiences anywhere and that’s thinking worldwide. How different Skye was for us then for they had not yet built the bridge that exists today and we virtually had the island to ourselves except for the tiny village of Porttree. For days we roamed this island camping and hiking at will seeing scarcely a soul, it was our kind of country. Our favourite area was the mountains of the coup Culuins, a rugged group some of which dropped steeply into the sea. We were never in any danger hiking on Skye, yes we did need to take great care on loose faced inclines that dropped steeply into the sea but there was nothing we couldn’t handle. Ironically and contrary to that, we had a near death hiking experience in England of all places where we made the mistake of tackling the featureless landscape of “Kinder Scout” in midwinter; loss in swirling mists and beleaguered by a sudden snowstorm, we survived more by good luck than good management,(see “Close Calls” on this website.) For the most part Skye’s weather treated us well but we decided to leave after suffering a violent gale that ravaged the island with strong winds and heavy rain that rending us and the ferry inoperable for 48 hrs; on the first day we sought refuge from the wind on some church grounds using the tall structure as windbreak but we had to leave their after the church pastor came out of hiding and told us to “sod off;” the Scots were not always a friendly lot; little wonder really with the inclement weather they endure. Scotland’s “John o' Groats” Village was end of the road for us in Great Britain, touted as the northernmost point of Scotland but it really isn’t, (nearby Dunnet Head is farther north). But the village does have some notoriety because it marks one end of the longest distance between two inhabited British points on the mainland, with “Land's End“ in Cornwall lying 876 miles (1,410 km) to the southwest. As Australians, well accustomed to wide open spaces, the distance of 876 miles meant very little to us but it was a big deal to the Britain’s; so many we met told us that one day, when they get a chance, they would drive from “Land’s End” to the “Groats” but in our experience, such folk get so tied up with earning their daily bread, raising and providing for their children, they rarely fulfill their “bucket” lists…..c’est la vie. Wendy and I chose a different path and more than fulfilled our “current list” and are proud of that. Hiking of the rugged hinterland of Skye was never on our bucket list but hiking to the summit of 4000 ft Ben Nevis, Scotland’s highest peak was on our “bucket list” but that turned out to be a total farce; the trail was so widely used it was more like a highway and when we met a young woman coming down and pushing a pram with a baby in it, we certainly did not feel like we wanted to add that summit to our achievements. Britain’s are active and enthusiastic walkers and there are hundreds of cross-country trails to choose from, a lot of it over private property, but nothing really that I would class as challenging. For more of a challenge we needed to cross into the country of Wales, not really England but the British are happy to include it in Great Britain. Tucked into the southwest and flanks of mainland England, Wales is not a large country with only a little over 3 million living there but a rugged coastline and a mountainous interior it does have with Mt. Snowden the highest peak offering good opportunities for some more challenging trails. Because of an unseasonal snowfall, tackling the trails at that time was not recommended by the National Park and so we did what everyone else probably does when they visit Wales, we took the funicular to the top and cheated. Picturesque nevertheless, even more so under snow cover. Carnarvon, the capital sat on the coast and was overlooked by the usual medieval castle, a prime tourist attraction for the city. After negotiating Liverpool, one of England’s uglier cities, it was a pleasant change to cross into Wales, and spent some time in Carnarvon, relatively deserted in comparison to across the border. When you look at a map it’s not hard to see that Wales is about as close as you’re going to get to Ireland without having to swim. But we chose instead we chose a two hour car ferry trip from Holyhead across the Irish Sea to Dublin. We disembarked on what is referred to as the Emerald Island will but believe me, the city of Dublin is a far cry from that. But once on the road again we soon found that Emerald Green it is; few places on the planet that we have seen I would class as green and that’s was another ferry trip again to the Faroes islands but that’s another story. How we loved the landscape of Ireland, and its people, and their accent and their sense of humour which left us most of the time wondering what was true and what was not true; rather like the Australians in that regard. Ireland is yet another part of the world screwed up by religious differences and you only have to watch the film “Ryan’s daughter” that well illustrate that fact. From a tourist point of view, the Republic of Ireland has a lot more to offer; but crossing the border into Northern Ireland, which occupies only 1/6 of the island, there are points of interest worthy of mention as well. We have never been city lovers although there has always has been exceptions, Belfast, birthplace of the notorious Titanic, was not one of them; scrubby, dull, unattractive and in need of a clean-up, we didn’t even feel safe walking around their because of the conflict between Catholic-Protestant and a hatred of the British. We had occasion to visit their years later to find that things had quite down a lot, some modern buildings has sprung up, universities were flourishing and a very fine museum on the life and death of the Titanic was worth a visit. Belfast aside, it didn’t take us too long to escape the city and head for cleaner fresher air in the Mountains of Mourne tucked away in the southeastern corner of the country in County Down. Okay, considering the relatively flat terrain of Ireland, they are the only mountainous area on the island with trails accessing at least five peaks between two and 3000 feet above sea level. Outside of Newcastle, we camped at what looked like a trailhead and headed for Slieve Donard the highest of the Mourne at 2792 feet (850 m); the summit provided us with a panorama over all of the range including some fine views sweeping down to the sea; not a challenging trail but definitely worth the effort. But Northern Ireland still had one trick up its sleeve that really surprised us and made our venture into this part of Ireland worthwhile. Around 40,000 interlocking, hexagonal basalt columns, the result of an ancient volcanic fissure eruption, spread themselves out along the shoreline to form what is now a UNESCO World Heritage site known as the “Giants Causeway. The whole area is a remarkable site indeed and the best example of its kind that we have since seen in the world. Of course the Irish version of how the Giants Causeway came about varies from the scientific; the story goes that back in ancient times a giant lived in the area and let it be known that no one could defeat him in combat by the Scottish giant heard about the boast and challenged him to a battle; problem is neither one could swim the distance between Ireland and Scotland. Not to be outdone, the Scottish giant build the causeway across the sea so that you can walk over to the northeast corner of the island where the two giants “had it out with each other,” of course the Irish giant one considering it’s an Irish story. This kind of “blarney” is rife in Ireland and we encountered more of it at the Blarney Castle; we climbed the stairs to the top for the view and encountered an attendant who recommended that we kiss the Blarney Stone while we were there…… for a small fee of course. The Blarney Stone is a block of Carboniferous limestone built into the battlements of the Castle; according to legend, kissing the stone endows the kisser with the gift of the gab. “Bollocks” we thought but to keep the guy happy (because we were the first people that he had seen all day), Wendy paid up and had a go but in no way did she kiss that stupid stone but he didn’t see that. The incident was a rare moment in our travels for we avoided tourist gimmicks like the plague but I must admit that we both did wonder, considering the position of the stone, how it was possible to kiss it but the attendant showed Wendy how, being glad for the opportunity to fondle her at the same time…… C’est la vie.
Yes we watched the sun go down over Galway Bay as the song goes and had some good meal at the local pubs of which there many; actually pub food is pretty basic stuff but at least it’s hot although we stayed away from the terrible warm beer but we did enjoy listening to some great Irish musicians and songsters; their poignant songs often dwelled on the hardships/heartbreaks that prevailed over the people in years passed.
If you look at the geography of the island the eastern shores face the Irish Sea which has treated the coastline far more kindly than the Atlantic has treated the West Coast, a rugged topography of inlets, peninsula’s, indented bays, cones, fiords and in County Clare, some of the most spectacular, easily accessible cliff faces in the world. Always looking for scenic places to spend the night we camped for several days overlooking the Cliffs of Moher that dropped abruptly over 155m (500ft) into the Atlantic. An 18 km, cliff edge trail follows the contour of the Moher and we hiked every one of them once again enjoying the freedom to do so at our time of 19th century travel. These days (2020) the trail is subject to restrictions, parking is charged for and the ticket must be purchased to walk the trail plus extra to climb O’Brien’s tower as Wendy did unhindered and without a soul in sight for miles. Seabirds by the thousands nest in the cliff faces, although these are best viewed from a boat that skirts the shoreline if and when weather permits which is not that often. Just north of O’Brien’s tower, the Mourne Cliffs rise to a height of almost 700 feet but even at that it is still not the highest on the island. To see those, we had to hike to Bunglass Point on the perimeter of Slieve league, a mountain that plunges into the sea not far from the border of Northern Ireland in County Donegal. Parsing 600 m (1972 feet) they are the highest cliff faces on the island and almost 3 times the height of the Cliffs of Moher. Bunglass was another great place to spend the night, at least we thought so, but scary, high wind and heavy seas kept us awake the whole time.
Generally speaking UK residents are receptive to visitors even moreso when they learn you originated from England, (the “home country”), we soon found that Great Britain’s are happy to have a chat but that sort of thing tends to wane somewhat when you crossed into Scotland, folks there can be a somewhat dour lot at times; understandable I guess considering the inclement climate they have to put up with at times . But when it comes to chatting, the Irish lead the field, sometimes you can’t shut them up, especially in the pubs which seem to be the main hub of their social life as it is in the UK generally. Depending where you were in the Kingdom, we found the locals hard to understand at times but that’s part of the charm of exploring this part of the world; the variety is endless such the folks in Yorkshire who seem to have an abbreviation for just about everything; star performers when it comes to understanding their form of English would have to be the Welsh with their distinctive Celtic culture and language which carried on into their sign posting which were outrageous at times. However, the Irish accents remains my favourite derivation of the English language; at times it is almost musical.
As much as we loved England with its never ending supply of historic cathedrals, castles, palaces and public gardens, the 56 million that live there can wear you down at times and in our case, especially when it came to parking our motorhome by day or finding a place to sleep overnight. It wasn’t all that easy to find a place that someone was not going to complain about, often about petty stuff like even though we were legally parked at a street meter, a shop owner ventured forth to inform us that we were blocking his view.... the English were like that.
But the antidote to all that was simply to cross the border into Scotland, a paradisiacal land tailor-made to our style of freedom travel with hiking trails and solitude in abundance. Yes there were some big cities too but for us, Scotland was primarily a land of lonely mountain with hidden Valley’s that echoed to the calls of Red deer in rut, unfettered, snowmelt streams that flowed, sometimes by waterfall down erosion worn gorges, mysterious, misty hidden glens, isolated Lakes (lochs) haunted by the call of loons, distant dark and broody, windswept islands the beckoned you to come ashore and touch them. Because of our great love of nature and the freedom to camp at will and spontaneously take to a trail, Scotland proved to be our favourite UK experience with Ireland running a close second. The picturesque charm of the English countryside is undeniable but equally so in Scotland but in a very different way; there is an unspoiled wildness to it rarely found in England especially in the northwest coast around Scourie where we found deserted golden beaches that beckoned you to stay a while which we did at times but never staying too long because of the cool winds; nor did we venture into the sea for fear of frostbite (just kidding but you get the picture). Not for a moment are we thinking that if we returned to Scotland today in (2020) that we would find it as it was when we were last there; that is before full scale tourism mushroomed into the blight that it is today, the planet will never be the same again. The untouched wildness of the “Spittal of Glenshee” (love the Scotties names) shown in this picture, now boasts three and five star hotels; for us it was farmland and sheep and we cut our own track in the snow. England’s Stonehenge is another example of how tourism changed a when we were there we camped at night within walking distance of the site and have not forgotten the strange experience of walking amongst those stones at midnight with a full moon thrown in. Imagination is a wonderful thing but we felt like those stones were moving in on us, so creepy, as if they resented our presence. In comparison the whole area is fenced off now and access is strictly controlled to prevent people from carving their initials or spray painting the stones. There was so many nooks and crannies to explore on the Scottish mainland we really didn’t give a lot of thought to visit the island’s, that meant car ferries and more expense but as it turned out, we were camped one evening on a headland overlooking the sea (our favourite type of location) and spotted a tiny car ferry sitting idle by a jetty; with our binoculars we could read the name Glenelg on a small hotel nearby. Consulting our reading material, we soon realized we had come upon a fairy to the Isle of Skye but what surprised us was that the stretch of water between us and the island was so minimal that Wendy and I felt we could almost swim across to the islands from where we were camped and that fact set us wondering about the song we had had learned at school which read as “speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing over the sea to Skye;” that indeed seemed to be some kind of exaggeration. That being said and because we were the only vehicle there that next morning, we could not resist the temptation to “cross over the sea to Skye.” That spontaneous decision proved to be one of the best we have ever made for we had discovered an undeveloped, rugged, mountainous, camera friendly island where we logged some of our best hiking how experiences anywhere and that’s thinking worldwide. How different Skye was for us then for they had not yet built the bridge that exists today and we virtually had the island to ourselves except for the tiny village of Porttree. For days we roamed this island camping and hiking at will seeing scarcely a soul, it was our kind of country. Our favourite area was the mountains of the coup Culuins, a rugged group some of which dropped steeply into the sea. We were never in any danger hiking on Skye, yes we did need to take great care on loose faced inclines that dropped steeply into the sea but there was nothing we couldn’t handle. Ironically and contrary to that, we had a near death hiking experience in England of all places where we made the mistake of tackling the featureless landscape of “Kinder Scout” in midwinter; loss in swirling mists and beleaguered by a sudden snowstorm, we survived more by good luck than good management,(see “Close Calls” on this website.) For the most part Skye’s weather treated us well but we decided to leave after suffering a violent gale that ravaged the island with strong winds and heavy rain that rending us and the ferry inoperable for 48 hrs; on the first day we sought refuge from the wind on some church grounds using the tall structure as windbreak but we had to leave their after the church pastor came out of hiding and told us to “sod off;” the Scots were not always a friendly lot; little wonder really with the inclement weather they endure. Scotland’s “John o' Groats” Village was end of the road for us in Great Britain, touted as the northernmost point of Scotland but it really isn’t, (nearby Dunnet Head is farther north). But the village does have some notoriety because it marks one end of the longest distance between two inhabited British points on the mainland, with “Land's End“ in Cornwall lying 876 miles (1,410 km) to the southwest. As Australians, well accustomed to wide open spaces, the distance of 876 miles meant very little to us but it was a big deal to the Britain’s; so many we met told us that one day, when they get a chance, they would drive from “Land’s End” to the “Groats” but in our experience, such folk get so tied up with earning their daily bread, raising and providing for their children, they rarely fulfill their “bucket” lists…..c’est la vie. Wendy and I chose a different path and more than fulfilled our “current list” and are proud of that. Hiking of the rugged hinterland of Skye was never on our bucket list but hiking to the summit of 4000 ft Ben Nevis, Scotland’s highest peak was on our “bucket list” but that turned out to be a total farce; the trail was so widely used it was more like a highway and when we met a young woman coming down and pushing a pram with a baby in it, we certainly did not feel like we wanted to add that summit to our achievements. Britain’s are active and enthusiastic walkers and there are hundreds of cross-country trails to choose from, a lot of it over private property, but nothing really that I would class as challenging. For more of a challenge we needed to cross into the country of Wales, not really England but the British are happy to include it in Great Britain. Tucked into the southwest and flanks of mainland England, Wales is not a large country with only a little over 3 million living there but a rugged coastline and a mountainous interior it does have with Mt. Snowden the highest peak offering good opportunities for some more challenging trails. Because of an unseasonal snowfall, tackling the trails at that time was not recommended by the National Park and so we did what everyone else probably does when they visit Wales, we took the funicular to the top and cheated. Picturesque nevertheless, even more so under snow cover. Carnarvon, the capital sat on the coast and was overlooked by the usual medieval castle, a prime tourist attraction for the city. After negotiating Liverpool, one of England’s uglier cities, it was a pleasant change to cross into Wales, and spent some time in Carnarvon, relatively deserted in comparison to across the border. When you look at a map it’s not hard to see that Wales is about as close as you’re going to get to Ireland without having to swim. But we chose instead we chose a two hour car ferry trip from Holyhead across the Irish Sea to Dublin. We disembarked on what is referred to as the Emerald Island will but believe me, the city of Dublin is a far cry from that. But once on the road again we soon found that Emerald Green it is; few places on the planet that we have seen I would class as green and that’s was another ferry trip again to the Faroes islands but that’s another story. How we loved the landscape of Ireland, and its people, and their accent and their sense of humour which left us most of the time wondering what was true and what was not true; rather like the Australians in that regard. Ireland is yet another part of the world screwed up by religious differences and you only have to watch the film “Ryan’s daughter” that well illustrate that fact. From a tourist point of view, the Republic of Ireland has a lot more to offer; but crossing the border into Northern Ireland, which occupies only 1/6 of the island, there are points of interest worthy of mention as well. We have never been city lovers although there has always has been exceptions, Belfast, birthplace of the notorious Titanic, was not one of them; scrubby, dull, unattractive and in need of a clean-up, we didn’t even feel safe walking around their because of the conflict between Catholic-Protestant and a hatred of the British. We had occasion to visit their years later to find that things had quite down a lot, some modern buildings has sprung up, universities were flourishing and a very fine museum on the life and death of the Titanic was worth a visit. Belfast aside, it didn’t take us too long to escape the city and head for cleaner fresher air in the Mountains of Mourne tucked away in the southeastern corner of the country in County Down. Okay, considering the relatively flat terrain of Ireland, they are the only mountainous area on the island with trails accessing at least five peaks between two and 3000 feet above sea level. Outside of Newcastle, we camped at what looked like a trailhead and headed for Slieve Donard the highest of the Mourne at 2792 feet (850 m); the summit provided us with a panorama over all of the range including some fine views sweeping down to the sea; not a challenging trail but definitely worth the effort. But Northern Ireland still had one trick up its sleeve that really surprised us and made our venture into this part of Ireland worthwhile. Around 40,000 interlocking, hexagonal basalt columns, the result of an ancient volcanic fissure eruption, spread themselves out along the shoreline to form what is now a UNESCO World Heritage site known as the “Giants Causeway. The whole area is a remarkable site indeed and the best example of its kind that we have since seen in the world. Of course the Irish version of how the Giants Causeway came about varies from the scientific; the story goes that back in ancient times a giant lived in the area and let it be known that no one could defeat him in combat by the Scottish giant heard about the boast and challenged him to a battle; problem is neither one could swim the distance between Ireland and Scotland. Not to be outdone, the Scottish giant build the causeway across the sea so that you can walk over to the northeast corner of the island where the two giants “had it out with each other,” of course the Irish giant one considering it’s an Irish story. This kind of “blarney” is rife in Ireland and we encountered more of it at the Blarney Castle; we climbed the stairs to the top for the view and encountered an attendant who recommended that we kiss the Blarney Stone while we were there…… for a small fee of course. The Blarney Stone is a block of Carboniferous limestone built into the battlements of the Castle; according to legend, kissing the stone endows the kisser with the gift of the gab. “Bollocks” we thought but to keep the guy happy (because we were the first people that he had seen all day), Wendy paid up and had a go but in no way did she kiss that stupid stone but he didn’t see that. The incident was a rare moment in our travels for we avoided tourist gimmicks like the plague but I must admit that we both did wonder, considering the position of the stone, how it was possible to kiss it but the attendant showed Wendy how, being glad for the opportunity to fondle her at the same time…… C’est la vie.
Yes we watched the sun go down over Galway Bay as the song goes and had some good meal at the local pubs of which there many; actually pub food is pretty basic stuff but at least it’s hot although we stayed away from the terrible warm beer but we did enjoy listening to some great Irish musicians and songsters; their poignant songs often dwelled on the hardships/heartbreaks that prevailed over the people in years passed.
If you look at the geography of the island the eastern shores face the Irish Sea which has treated the coastline far more kindly than the Atlantic has treated the West Coast, a rugged topography of inlets, peninsula’s, indented bays, cones, fiords and in County Clare, some of the most spectacular, easily accessible cliff faces in the world. Always looking for scenic places to spend the night we camped for several days overlooking the Cliffs of Moher that dropped abruptly over 155m (500ft) into the Atlantic. An 18 km, cliff edge trail follows the contour of the Moher and we hiked every one of them once again enjoying the freedom to do so at our time of 19th century travel. These days (2020) the trail is subject to restrictions, parking is charged for and the ticket must be purchased to walk the trail plus extra to climb O’Brien’s tower as Wendy did unhindered and without a soul in sight for miles. Seabirds by the thousands nest in the cliff faces, although these are best viewed from a boat that skirts the shoreline if and when weather permits which is not that often. Just north of O’Brien’s tower, the Mourne Cliffs rise to a height of almost 700 feet but even at that it is still not the highest on the island. To see those, we had to hike to Bunglass Point on the perimeter of Slieve league, a mountain that plunges into the sea not far from the border of Northern Ireland in County Donegal. Parsing 600 m (1972 feet) they are the highest cliff faces on the island and almost 3 times the height of the Cliffs of Moher. Bunglass was another great place to spend the night, at least we thought so, but scary, high wind and heavy seas kept us awake the whole time.