Australia: Farewell to Tasmania, Hello to relatives

Wow. I'm down to my final few days in Tasmania, the island I almost consider my second home. I've covered Hobart, Launceston, both ends of the Overland Track, but not the track itself, gone from east to west coast and back and now, with my flight to Sydney looming, I'm chilling out on the Freycinet Peninsula. So what happened in my last few days in Tassie?

Sea snot?

I seemed to have expended rather a lot of energy walking the Hazards Circuit the previous day, so I decided to have a relaxed day on the Saturday. Note: I actually planned to do not a lot, instead of just lounging around and then realising I'd wasted the day.

I didn't entirely waste this day. First I took a stroll along Muirs Beach, which is right opposite the hostel. Along the way I discovered these funny looking little blobs.

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Loads of them. I'm not sure what they are - jellyfish medusae minus the tentacles? Some sort of giant salp? Not a clue. So I'm calling them sea snot for now, because that's what they look like. Also, the view from the beach across to the Hazards is pretty sweet.

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After that lovely stroll, I treated myself to a muffin and milkshake at the bakery while I tried to make use of the appalling WiFi. No luck. I really shouldn't be this dependent on internet. It's sort of pathetic.

And then I was productive and did laundry. Well done, me. I must have been proud of myself - I made a note in my journal that actually says "laundry time". Why did I feel the need to record that?

I think I must have spent the rest of the day marvelling that my sunburn was improving and also reading an excellent book I found about the Spice Race between England and the Netherlands. Fascinating bit of history, if rather bloody.

Did you walk all the way here?

Relaxed Saturday done with, I decided to make the most of my Parks Pass and head into the park one more time. With walking tracks somewhat limited without tackling the multiday hike around the southern end of the peninsula, I opted to wander along the road to Sleepy Bay instead.

I might have got a few funny looks from drivers as they passed me, but I quite enjoyed the walk. The short track down to the bay was less pleasant, thanks to it being buzzing with mosquitos who managed to find every bit of exposed skin on me. Urgh.

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Still, Sleepy Bay is as lovely as I remember it. I think it was a bit damp when I visited before, so it was nice to see it in the sunshine. Lots of rocks to scramble around. I'm pretty sure that when I came before, the entire tour group squeezed into a tiny cave with a really narrow opening. So I went in search of it. Either I've got the wrong location, was looking in the wrong place, or the cave's collapsed, because I couldn't find it.

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While I was looking, I bumped into a group of Americans who said they'd passed me on the way up the road and were very surprised to hear that I'd walked in from Coles Bay. They seemed to think it was a long way, but I don't think it can be any more than 3 miles from the town to Sleepy Bay. Not very far, really. Friendly folks, though.

I ate my brunch there, sitting on the rocks, admiring the view and trying to ignore the somewhat disconcerting buzz of a drone whizzing past my head.

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And then back to the hostel, via the shop where I treated myself to some nice looking burgers and cider. Burgers for lunch, more reading of the delightful history book and then, in the absence of any interesting food (rice and pasta are getting boring), I went down to the chippy and got myself a seafood box - prawns, calamari, fish goujons and scallops, plus a huge helping of chips. I took it down to the beach and ate it sitting on the boat ramp.

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Apparently, I like calamari. This is wonderful news.

After stuffing my face, I went back to the hostel, did the social thing and drank my cider and then headed back to the beach to watch the sunset with a couple of the guys. I think I managed to get some pretty good photos.

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Oh, and I managed to get the blurry water effect with the waves. Admittedly, I got a bit damp at the same time because the water came up over the rock I was standing on, but I'm pretty pleased with this shot.

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I think that's a good end to my time in Freycinet.

Hobart, where are your baby stores?

Time to leave Coles Bay and this time I wasn't worried about my connection not being there. Well, I wasn't until the bus was late. When it finally arrived, I was beginning to worry that the bus to Hobart would be leaving without me.

Fortunately for me, these guys run this service regularly, so the driver had been in touch with the driver of the other bus to let them know we might be late. As it was, we made it to the turn off before the other bus even arrived. And then they left, leaving me alone in the middle of nowhere and wondering whether we'd made it before the bus or whether it had been and gone. Seriously - middle of nowhere.

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Turns out the other bus was also running slightly behind, so just as I'm thinking I'll have to call someone, the minibus comes rattling along the road and I'm off back to Hobart again.

My mum had also informed me, while I was at Freycinet, that her Australian cousin has had a baby and that it would be nice if I could find a gift of some sort. I'm awful with children. I don't like them and I don't know what to do with them. So when I arrived in Hobart I had to go on a mission in search of... god knows. And I was clearly looking in the wrong place because nowhere seemed to sell things for babies. I succeeded in the end, but jeez, that was difficult.

And then sleep, because I had to get up at 5am to get the shuttle to the airport. This plan was interrupted by an obnoxious roommate who clattered in at 2am with absolutely no regard for her sleeping compatriots. Not impressed.

Bus-Plane-Train-Car

Ah, 5am. Not a time I like. And then the shuttle decided to take its time getting to the airport. I think it's well established that I worry about time and I'm even worse when I'm tired. That was not a fun bus ride. Still, I turned up in plenty of time. The flight was uneventful, if a little sad for leaving Tassie behind.

On arrival at Sydney Airport, I spent the very brief walk from the plane to the gate wondering if I'd recognise my uncle. As it turned out, I'm not entirely convinced he recognised me when I trundled over and hugged him.

And so onto the train with my uncle and his daughter Linda (I have no idea what relation this makes her to me... second cousins or something, probably). A brief stop for a delicious lunch and then into Linda's car for the drive to the little town of Mittagong in the Southern Highlands.

With an afternoon to kill, Uncle Les took me on a drive around a couple of local spots, including this lookout over the valley.

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And the quaint town of Berrima, followed by tea with the family, which is a novelty for me because my uncle's immediate family is pretty extensive and mine... is not.

And then sleep, because in the morning I have to get up early again to collect my grandad from the airport.

Why did I agree to this?

That is the first comment in my journal. Because we set off not long after 4am - me, my uncle and his son-in-law - to get my grandad. I'm not entirely sure why we needed to leave so early - apparently it was because of traffic. Of course, this meant we turned up at the airport about an hour before my grandad's flight even landed. And I felt ill. Lack of sleep, I reckon. So I made the most of the free WiFi and drank tea while we waited.

And waited.

And waited some more. The flight arrived and I watched people with LHR baggage tags filter out of customs control.

Still no Grandad.

Eventually, I spotted him heading down the ramp. So I hurried over to catch him. By which point he'd vanished. Damn, the man moves quick for his age. No worries - caught him.

And then a very sleepy drive back, where I tried to catch up with my grandad. I say tried, because neither of us are that talkative anyway and with him being jetlagged and me being generally knackered, we didn't get very far.

After a cooked breakfast at my uncle's, we set off for an afternoon drive. I thought this was a wonderful idea - one of the best ways to deal with jetlag in my experience is to force your body clock to adjust to the local time. No snoozing!

So we headed out to the coast, stopping off at Jamberoo Lookout on the way.

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And then having a wander around the town of Kiama, where Grandad tried out some of the public fitness equipment...

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We also had fish and chips, but while the chips were OK, I wasn't convinced on the fish. And yes, of course I'm biased towards the stuff I get at home. Oh, and Kiama has a blowhole, but it wasn't being particularly impressive when we were there.

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And then tea. And then sleep. So much sleep. Desperate need for sleep.

Secondhand book win

With Grandad still somewhat jetlagged and me still regretting the 4am start, we had a lazy morning the next day and followed it up with a trip to a little market in town where I homed in on the secondhand book stall and acquired myself Pratchett's Wintersmith at a reasonable price instead of the $20+ it would have cost in a normal bookshop in Australia. Seriously, Australia, why are books so expensive over here? It's like you don't want people to read...

And then we had Chinese for tea. I haven't had Chinese takeaway in ages. It was yummy.

Here's me at the Grand Canyon...

That relaxed day had given us all chance to recover, so on the Friday we drove out to Katoomba in the Blue Mountains and visited Scenic World. It's a complete tourist trap, but since neither my uncle nor my grandad were interested in letting me pay, I can't complain. Plus, the rack railway they have there, while very short, is apparently one of the steepest in the world at 52 degrees. I nearly slid out of the seat on the way down...

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We followed the railway with a lovely stroll through the forest, where we spotted a lyrebird - they're brilliant mimics, but this one moved before I could get a good photo.

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And then we took the cable car back to the top...

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Grabbed some lunch and a few more photos, including this stupid selfie with my rather bemused looking relatives.

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Then took the "Skyway Gondola" across to the other side of the valley. It's a cable car. Call it what it is.

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On that side, we took a walk along the cliff, where I got treated to a running commentary from Grandad and Uncle Les about the stupid people going close to the edge and climbing over railings and how they'd fall off and die. I love them both, but I really didn't want to listen to the grumbling, although I must admit that it's hilarious how much alike they are. So I trundled off ahead on my youthful legs.

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We didn't make it all the way to Echo Point, but we did get far enough round to see the Three Sisters. Just.

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And then home for leftover Chinese, during which I showed this photo to the grumpy old men, just for the lulz.

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Hey, guys, you know what you were saying about people going too close to the edge? Here's me at the Grand Canyon.

Oh, the small pleasures.

Next week: Christmas, a few more days with the relatives and then my friend Claire arrives from the UK for a two week jaunt around Australia's highlights.

Gonna be good, right?

Iceland: Waterfalls, volcanoes and rain

OH MY GOD THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING.

Ahem. Anyway. In magical events this week, my Grand Tour which has been in the planning for the best part of 18 months (if not longer) has finally begun. I've spent the last few days in the beautiful city of Rekjavik. Well, actually, I've only really been in Reykjavik to sleep. Here's a quick recap of what I've been up to so far.

My trip started with the usual farting about with trains and then a lovely afternoon in London with Claire who gifted me this little chap

His name is Harold. He is now my mascot.

From London, I had to head to Gatwick to catch a flight the next day. All went well until I arrived in Reykjavik on Monday morning. See, EasyJet have these new-fangled bag drop machines so you don't even get to talk to someone when you dump your bag. All well and good, but when I arrived in Reykjavik my bag was nowhere to be seen. An hour and a half later, I thought, fuck it, I'm going to go and complain to the baggage people. Which took me past the oversized baggage area (which is just a dumping ground next to the carousels) and lo and behold, there was my bag. Fuming.

Aside from that, my first day in Reykjavik was lovely, if a little marred by sleep deprivation. I took a walk along the bay front.

And then, because I was still feeling a bit grouchy, I treated myself to fish and chips instead of cooking. Lovely little restaurant near the harbour provided me with ling, crispy potatoes and a mango flavoured dip. Different, but pretty good. Sorry, Grimsby!

The Golden Circle

My first real day in Iceland began much too early for my liking. Don't ask me why, but I clearly thought it was a great idea to book a tour that started at 7am when I'd had very little sleep and a very long day the day before.

That said, my trip to the Golden Circle was great fun. There were only 2 other people on the tour - everyone else was presumeably sensible enough to decide against such an early start - so we had the minibus to ourselves. Also, as I noticed at our first stop, setting off so early meant we got most of the sites to ourselves as well.

Said first stop was Fridheimar, a farm which grows tomatoes, mostly. I should maybe point out that I actually did the Golden Circle tour 18 months ago, so the idea of Icelanders growing tomatoes year round is no longer new to me, but it's interesting nonetheless. Also, a box of bees, which they get shipped from Holland every week to keep the tomatoes pollinated. Woo for bees.

From there, we headed to Gullfoss. I was especially looking forward to this because 18 months ago, the waterfall was mostly frozen over. Not so this time.

All of the pretties. There isn't much else to say about Gullfoss, so let's move on to the next stop, which was Geysir, the geyser from which all other geysers get their name. Geysir itself doesn't go off much any more, but its younger neighbour Strokkur does.

I should have quit while I was ahead with geyser photographs. Because just after I took that one, I decided to have another go. And the wind caught the plume just at the wrong moment. And poured it over me. Pretty sure I spent the rest of the day smelling of rotten eggs.

From there, we drove down to Thingvellir National Park, where Iceland's parliament, the Althingi, used to meet for about 700 years. Beautiful place.

Unfortunately, just after I took that photograph, I took this one.

And realised there was something seriously wrong with my camera, which after that shot just took pictures of funny coloured lines and splotches. This meant I spent much of the drive back to Reykjavik frantically trying to connect to the minibus WiFi to work out what was wrong and then had to traipse around the city to find a camera shop.

Which I did. And discovered that, as I feared, the camera was beyond help. So I bought a new one. At Icelandic prices, that's money I'd rather not have spent, but I can't be doing without a camera. Ugh.

My day was significantly improved by the lovely Icelandic chap who'd been in the camera shop at the same time and caught up with me as I was leaving. He gave me some suggestions for cool places to photograph, complete with directions and suggestions of the best times to be there to exploit Iceland's weird summer light. I'll say this - so far, I've found the Icelanders to be very friendly people.

South Shore Adventure

In the second of my early starts (although not as early as the day before) I headed off on another trip, this time to Iceland's beautiful south coast. Yet more hours stuck on a bus were more than made up for by the wonderful sights. Take Solheimajokull for a start.

It's a glacier. Coming off a volcano. Hence the black colour, I presume - from the ash? And then there's the tiny town of Vik and it's amazing black sand beach. I made the nistake of getting a bit too close to the sea and ended up with soggy boots. Fortunately said boots are waterproof so at least my feet were dry.

Vik was the furthest point of the trip from Reykjavik, so from there we headed back the way we came, stopping first at Reynisfjara, also a black sand beach. It also has these wonderful basalt columns - a bit like the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland.

While we were at the beach a lovely Canadian lady collared me after overhearing me mention going to Canada and proceeded to give me some suggestions on where to visit. Apparently I am capable of having conversations with strangers!

Then on to the little village of Skogar and its folk museum. Very interesting and I would have liked to have spent a bit more time there. Lots of information about traditional life in Iceland, including these funky two-thumbed mittens the fishermen used to wear.

They have two thumbs because their hands would get warm rowing and they could just flip them round to the cool side. Or something like that... Or maybe the thumbs wore out quick? It was something to do with rowing at any rate.

They also had a tub of bezoars, so if anyone gets poisoned, Skogar is the place to go.

Then just around the corner is beautiful Skogarfoss. It's a single drop waterfall and I couldn't resist the temptation to get as close as possible without getting soaked.

Which was going great until the wind changed and all the spray came in my direction. Oops. But hey, it was an experience.

I also got a bit drippy at the next stop, which was another waterfall called Seljalandsfoss. This one was especially cool, because you can actually walk behind the waterfall. Unfortunately, behind the waterfall is also spray-central, but at least this time I was wearing my waterproof. Clever me.

And from there, home. Well, back to the hostel.

Wonders of Snaefellsnes

Day three proper in Iceland dawned horribly early again. Fortunately, the tour I took turned out to be another minibus one with a lovely guide up to the Snaefellsnes peninsula. First stop proper was at Ytri Tunga where we attempted to do some seal-spotting. Unfortunately, the rain had set in and there were no seals to be found, although we did get divebombed by a couple of angry arctic terns.

Then the tiny settlement, if you can call it that, of Budir where there's a lava field and a pretty old church. And more rain, if you must know.

With the rain showing no sign of letting up, we hurried off to our next stop at Arnarstapi where we took a walk along the cliff top to admire the basalt formations. And get rained on some more. And shrieked at by more terns. I will admit that at this point my attempts to stay positive were beginning to falter.

Oh, and there's a troll on the hill.

Fortunately for my flagging morale, the next stop was lunch. I've been trying not to buy meals in Iceland because it's so very expensive, but at this point I didn't give a damn any more, so treated myself (ha) to a bowl of mushroom soup which came to 1500 krona. In case you're wondering, that's bloody expensive for a bowl of soup.

However, the soup was delicious and came with lovely fresh bread and really, it was just what I needed. That and a chat with the Irish chap on the tour who later kept me updated with the England-Wales Euro score. Nice chap.

After lunch, the stops became shorter - quick little photo stops along the north coast of the peninsula. The first of these was inside a volcano. Well... a pseudo-volcano.

You have to admit, it does look quite... volcano-ish. And it did form because of all the volcanism. And sod it, I just want to say I've been inside a volcano. So there.

Then we stopped at another lovely black sand beach, complete with surrounding lava field at Djupalonssandur. I had a bit of a moment on the beach when I realised the bits of old wreck lying about on the sand were from a Grimsby trawler. If anyone knows anything about a trawler called Epine, can you let me know?

And then I fell asleep and we stopped at Kirkjufell, which is a funny pointy mountain. My new camera, which had been behaving up until this point, decided it didn't like the light conditions so I've only got a couple of sort-of-decent photos from here.

From there, a quick stop to use the facilities at Grundafjordur and another at a place I couldn't pronounce (and can't even guess at) to see some more basalt columns. As Xavier, our guide, liked to keep pointing out - "this is not in the programme."

And then home. I think I might have fallen asleep again. During the drop offs, Xavier informed me that my hostel appears to own the last Big Mac sold in Iceland before MacDonalds pulled out. I'll have to see if I can find it.

In Cod We Trust

Or so went the saying at the Maritime Museum when I visited earlier today. They have an exhibition on at the moment about the cod wars, which my hometown was rather involved in. So I got to playing the game of "how many references to Grimsby can I find?"

Turns out to be quite a few. Overall, a great little exhibition, if understandably Iceland-biased. I spent the hour after that watching a great documentary about fishing in Iceland in the late 1800s, and then enjoyed the rest of the museum. Some funky little bits.

Basically, I've had a great start to my trip, even with the few little mishaps. Aside from yesterday, the weather's been great too, which I wasn't expecting. And, importantly, I've managed to have conversations with people. They might have been short and mostly someone else instigated them, but I don't care.

Tomorrow I have yet another early start because I've got to catch a bus up to Akureyri on the north coast where I'll be staying for the next few days before heading back to Reykjavik on Tuesday in time to catch my flight to Canada on Thursday.

So far, so good.

South Lakes: Sun, walking and dogs on boats

The Lake District is beautiful - one of my favourite parts of the UK. Mountains overlooking long, narrow lakes, winding country roads... what more could you want?

Recently I took a trip up there with my mum, sister and two miniature dachshunds for a long weekend. We stayed in a lovely little lodge at Aynsome Manor Park, near the pretty village of Cartmel, famous for its racecourse and sticky toffee pudding.

We must have timed our arrival well, because we just caught the end of the monthly Food Market in the village, which meant I got to nab a delicious fresh loaf of chia seed bread. Never tried it before and it was yummy.

Several of the shops in Cartmel are happy for well-behaved dogs to come in, so we also had a quick wander around some of the little independent craft shops, which the dogs loved. They weren't quite so pleased that they had to wait outside while I perused the Village Shop, home of the famous sticky toffee pudding and a whole host of other delicious goods. Grabbed some bits for tea - the shop sells all sorts of pasta, rice, sauces and condiments, plus some meat.

There's some good walking around Cartmel as well. A footpath leads out of the back of the racecourse into the fields. Several paths to choose from - we headed up and along a little stream for a while. Such a peaceful walk.

Maybe we all died and this is some sort of weird limbo...

Our second day in Cartmel began with a sort of weird, sleep deprived hysteria brought on by the carbon monoxide alarm going off just after we went to bed, freaking us all out and subsequently unsettling one of the dogs enough that she whined and whimpered all night.

Suffice to say, the thought did cross my mind that maybe it hadn't been a false alarm and we had all died of carbon monoxide poisoning in the night. Giggling ensued.

Anyway, having finally got out of the house and satisfied ourselves that we weren't trapped in limbo, we head off up north to Bowness on Lake Windermere. It's a lovely drive - a winding road clings to the hillside and follows the lake from Newby Bridge at the south end, up to Bowness about halfway up. This is the main tourist hub on the lake, so expect it to be busy in the summer.

Grabbed a quick cuppa and then it was off for our first adventure - the dogs' first ever boat trip. They even got their own tickets - well behaved dogs are allowed on for free. A 45 minute cruise out on the lake turned out to be a great way to admire the scenery.

Spotted a few places we'd like to live, but with house prices in the area what they are... I think even a tiny boathouse would be out of our price range. Plus, when the lake floods, it really floods. During the last major flood, it peaked at 7 1/2 feet above the normal level. The little building in the picture below if the Temple of Heroes, commemorating Admirals Duncan, Nelson, Howe and St Vincent. That 7 1/2 foot flood brought the water up to the bottom of the plaques bearing the names.

Safely off the boat, which pleased the older dog no end, we headed up the hill to grab a bite to eat, relishing the warm spring sun. And then on into the town to explore some more shops. As with Cartmel, some shops will allow dogs in so long as they behave, so the two of them had great fun sniffing around in La Galerie d'Art while I tried to choose just a couple of photo prints for my postcard wall.

A few more shops and then onto Kendal to while away what remained of the afternoon. We headed over the top out of Bowness, across fields full of sheep (and some very cute spring lambs), stopping briefly to let a flock of sheep cross the road, complete with sheepdog and a farmer with a red flag.

Oddly enough, we found only one place in Kendal making a big deal out of selling the famous Kendal Mint Cake. Ah well. It's a lovely stroll from the town centre across the river to the remains of Kendal Castle. This seems to be on common land (or maybe council land?) so is open access and it's free to wander around the ruins.

Just be aware that as with all good castles, you have to climb up a bloody big hill to get there. It's worth it though - look at the views from the top.

All in all, a great couple of days to start the trip. And still a couple of days to go!

Things to do:
Cartmel Food Market - 3rd Friday of the month, Cartmel
Windermere Lake Cruise - from £7.70 (adult), departs Bowness, Ambleside, Brockholes & Lakeside
Kendal Castle - free, Kendal

Fish & Chips & Dracula: A Day Out in North Yorkshire

North Yorkshire is a lovely area. Desolate, rolling moorlands come down to steep cliffs on the North Sea coast. Took a trip up there recently with my dad and sister and thought I'd share some of the pretty bits.

First up, the lovely little village of Robin Hood's Bay, on the coast between the seaside towns of Scarborough and Whitby. Quaint place - all narrow streets and old fishing cottages.

I should probably note that this trip was in March and the weather was fine but chilly so I was surprised by how many people were out on the beach.

No one seems all that sure why it's called Robin Hood's Bay. It doesn't seem to come up in any of the early Robin Hood tales, but it's had the name since at least the 1500s, so who knows!

Well worth a stop if you're driving up the coast road between Scarborough and Whitby if only to feel like you've stepped back a century or so. For those thinking of staying more than the hour we did, there's the tiny little Dinosaur & Fossil Museum, which I am informed by my dad that I have been in, many moons ago. There's also a whole host of pubs and cafes, all of which seemed pretty busy given how early in the season it was.

Getting there: 5 miles south of Whitby/15 miles north of Scarborough off the A171 coast road. Parking is at the top of the hill in the village. Be prepared for the walk to the bottom of the cliff and back - it's quite steep in places.


From there, we headed north along the coast road to Whitby in search of lunch. It being Whitby, lunch sort of had to be fish and chips. There's plenty of chip shops to choose from in the town, but for someone from Grimsby who's used to fish & chips being relatively cheap, the prices can be a bit steep. Not that most others would notice, I'm sure.


Anyhoo, we settled on Russells, which does very nice chips and then went for a wander. Whitby, like Robin Hood's Bay, has little narrow streets but doesn't have quite the same feel. It's much more touristy. Not a bad thing - there's some really nice shops around the eastern bank of the river.

For a real history kick, climb the 199 steps from the base of the cliff up to the Abbey. The Abbey's pretty important in the history of Christianity in England and I'd really recommend going in and having a look. Sometimes there's reenactment groups in, which are great fun. Vikings running around? Oh yeah.

On this occasion, we bypassed the Abbey and had fun trying to read some of the old gravestones in the churchyard next door. We especially liked the Latin inscription on this memorial, which translates as Death is Inevitable.

Which brings me almost neatly onto Whitby's other claim to fame. It features quite prominently in Bram Stoker's classic gothic novel Dracula as the port through which the eponymous vampire enters England. Whitby has embraced this and if you're in town on the right weekend you can enjoy the peoplewatching that comes with Goth Weekend.

Getting there: Whitby is easily reached from the A171. The area around the harbour can get a bit short on parking at the weekend, especially over the summer. There's more parking at the top of the cliff near the Abbey.

If you're heading south from Whitby and you've already driven the coast road, I'd recommend heading over the top of the moors on your way back. It's a beautiful scenic drive, with plenty of opportunities to stop or turn off and explore the valleys. Just don't go trespassing into Fylingdales base - don't think the Americans would be too happy about that.

Also, if you head over the moors and you're that way inclined, the North Yorkshire Moors Railway is pretty good fun and there's a really nice walk between the stations at Goathland and Grosmont.

Have you got any recommendations for places to see on the North Yorkshire coast? Why not share in the comments.

Wales: Buzzy Baldrick and Stingy Steve

Our final 2 days in Wales began with drizzle on the Thursday. We made first for Hay-on-Wye for a second visit in order to check out the market there. All sorts of local produce on offer, including some lovely preserves that my sister brought back as presents. With the rain seemingly persistent and the dogs not really enjoying it we popped into the Secret Garden Tea Room for a nice warming hot chocolate and slice of bara brith, a Welsh fruit bread that's most delicious.

Suitably warmed up, we had a further wander round the market and then we headed into one of the bookshops, dogs in tow. The dogs loved the fact they were allowed into the bookshops. Henry took me on a tour of this particular one, though what he was looking for I'm not sure. Probably his big sister, who had gone upstairs with my mum.

Books bought, we left Hay with the weather clearing slightly. Drove back to Talgarth, the little village we were staying near to have a look around. Initially, we set out for a walk, seeing as the clouds were breaking up a bit. Unfortunately we couldn't find the path and looking back towards the village we noticed the clouds coming back in and settling in the valley. Indeed, they seemed to have settled right down between the hills, hiding the upper part of the village.

We decided trying to find the path wasn't worth getting soaked for, so we headed back to the village and had a look around a couple of the shops. Lovely little deli there which has flavoured oils and vinegars on tap, plus a lovely selection of local produce. Bought my dad some local honey, plus some cake for tea. Mmm.

We also checked out Talgarth Mill which was recently renovated and re-opened to the public. We didn't go around the mill itself, but there's a nice little cafe and a shop selling flour from the mill. Sat outside with a nice cuppa. My sister had some sort of juice which attracted the inevitable wasps. She nicknamed them Buzzy Baldrick, Stingy Steve and Evil Ed. Oh dear.

Mum and sister checked out the little shop while I kept an eye on the dogs - later turned out sister had bought me a bread kit complete with flour from the mill. Can't wait to test it out.

And then yet another nice lazy evening. The cake I bought from the little deli was delicious.

Our final day in Wales was the wettest yet, to the point that we spent the entire morning lounging in the cottage. The dogs weren't bothered and I have to admit it was quite nice to have a morning of nothing - the first I've had in quite a while.

When the rain finally stopped we headed back to Brecon and this time managed to take a walk along the Monmouthshire & Brecon canal as we'd planned earlier in the week. Kinda muddy, but the path is well maintained so you could avoid the puddles. The dogs hate getting wet so it was funny watching them trying to pick their way through the less wet bits of the path.

Walked the 2 miles from the head of the canal in Brecon down to the Brynich Lock, the first out from Brecon. Timed it right to catch a narrow boat going through the lock. Reminded us of the time we took a canal holiday. More than a decade ago, that was. Jeez...

Anyhoo, we'd done 2 miles by that point and with it still being a bit damp we turned back to Brecon to save the dogs getting too cold. Grabbed a cuppa at the Coracle cafe in the town centre and then headed back to Talgarth. Stopped off at the Castle Hotel to grab some takeaway for tea. Delicious sausage and chips, fresh out of the fryer since they'd only just opened when we got through the door. Good stuff and pretty reasonably priced - I always expected this sort of thing to be expensive because it's relatively cheap in Grimsby.

And then it rained some more and we had a final lazy evening.

A lovely week in Wales, despite the occasional issue with the weather. And proof that going on holiday with dogs shouldn't limit your options.

For part 1 of the trip, go here: Cake, Sun & Travelling with Dogs
For part 2, go here: Sunburn and Hill Forts

Bournemouth: Portland ho!

I seem to be going on rather a lot of trips at the moment. The latest was to see my friend Claire in Bournemouth for a long weekend.

Great plan, save that the weather forecast for the weekend turned out to be less than brilliant.

Trip started with a super long train journey down from Grimsby to Bournemouth. 6 hours, to be precise. That said, it wasn't too bad - the tube wasn't busy, the trains all ran on time and I only encountered one weirdo (read: addict of some description) a few stops away from Bournemouth. So far, so good.

Of course, as soon as I left the station building, I got a lovely reminder of that weather forecast. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ugh. Managed to find my way to the town centre (with instruction from Claire) and then on to the Pier for Claire's work summer do. Spent the afternoon drinking rum, running out to the zip line when the rain stopped and trying out the indoor climbing walls.

I've only been climbing once and it was amazing fun, so it was great to have another go at it. Apparently it's still fun. 'Nuff said. I'm not sure how much it costs normally at RockReef, but I think it's probably worth checking out. They have high ropes too, which were great fun even if Claire did get a little bit stuck at one point.

Aside from that, not much to say about the first day of the trip. It ended with muffins and tea at Claire's new flat. Yeah...

Day 2 got off to a much better start - the sun was out! Yay! We'd initially considered going to the Isle of Wight but been told that without a car it would be difficult to get around. Then Claire had found a tour of the Jurassic Coast, which would have been cool had it run on a Saturday and not a Sunday. We could have done the tour on our own, but train and bus connections to Lyme Regis and Charmouth aren't brilliant from Bournemouth.

So we settled instead for a day trip to Weymouth. Train tickets proved to be really reasonably priced (£10.10 return using a railcard), the trains run regularly throughout the day and take just short of an hour to make the trip. Great for us.

First stop, tourist info. Only, we couldn't find tourist info... Managed to grab some leaflets with bus times though. At which point we decided it was lunch time. Quick perusal of timetables over sandwiches suggested that while we could feasibly take a bus to Charmouth and/or Lyme Regis from Weymouth, it would take an hour and a half so most of our afternoon would be spent sitting on a bus.

Decided to catch the bus down to Portland in the end. The bus only runs once an hour from Weymouth, so we made a beeline for a cafe to pass the time. Had a delicious chocolate digestive milkshake. Sounds like it should be gross, actually amazing. If you're in Weymouth, head to Tom & Erin's cafe on the seafront and try it yourself. Seriously good.

Anyhoo, sugar high achieved, we hopped on the bus and instead of going all the way to Portland, hopped off on the causeway and went for a walk down Chesil Beach. Really nice views. Look.

There was also a dead (or dying) jellyfish.

We also found some funky pebbles and made silly faces with them.

I'm not sure we really planned on spending so long on the beach, but it was a lovely day so we lounged around for an hour or so, throwing stones at the sea and inspecting the washed up jellyfish that was just along from us.

Stomachs started grumbling ever so slightly, so we strolled down the causeway to Portland proper. Nice walk, that. Mile and a half or so from the end of the beach to the village. Sadly disappointed to find that there was very little in the way of eateries - at least not as far as we could see. Grabbed a drink instead at a pub and then caught the bus back into Weymouth.

By which point Weymouth was much quieter and we managed to get a table in King Edwards fish and chip shop before the big rush of people turned up for tea. Pretty good, actually. Much better than the last time I ate in Weymouth when the fish cake blatantly came out of a packet. This time I had prawns in filo pastry with some rather excellent chips. Not bad value either - about £8 for the meal and £2 for a pot of tea.

And then it was back to Bournemouth on the train with some very drunk men who were hilarious the entire trip back. The day ended with a lovely cup of tea up on the roof of Claire's flat. Bournemouth's really quite pretty from up there. Great day. More on this trip next time.

"Whales and dolphins and seals, OH MY"

The day began with a beautiful sunrise over the Seaward Kaikoura Range. My photos do not do it justice.

The car was frosted over. There was no scraper to hand so Amy scrounged a scrap of wood from the firewood pile and used that instead. It worked. In fact, it's still in the car, just in case.

First we drove into Kaikoura proper and took a stroll on the beach. We claimed part of it as New Grimsby for which I think Claire might have the photos.

And then the real excitement. Whale watching. Sea sickness tablets taken (just), wrapped up in many layers, we set out on the good ship Aoraki. We obviously wanted to see a whale, but didn't expect too much.

We saw a whale. A massive damn Sperm Whale, just lying there on the surface, bobbing in the waves. Many pictures were taken.

And then another one appeared. There. In the distance.

And then another and I couldn't work out where to look so I just videoed it.

And then they all dived, but I missed it because I was on the wrong bit of the boat.

So we motored away and a few minutes later we saw yet another whale. We are now up to 4 BLOODY WHALES. His name, apparently, is Manu and you can tell by the shape of his tail. And this time I managed to catch it as it dived. Just.

Pootled along some more and yup, just bobbing about, is another whale. Which I also managed to catch diving. WOO!

And then, just to top it all off, we came across an enormous pod of dusky dolphins which were quite happy to show off for us, leaping about and splashing and swimming in the bow wave. Didn't get many reasonable photos, but hey, the moment is what matters.

So, yeah, 5 whales. Apparently seeing 3 on the surface together is pretty much unheard of so imagine our glee.

We then tried out Kaikoura's fish and chips. It's good, but not as good as Grimsby. If we move here, we'll have to do something about that. We have also developed a taste for L&P which is sort of like lemonade and generally delicious. Mmmm.

Day ended with a fairly long drive to Motueka. I think I rode the endorphin high from whale-watching most of the way. Best day yet.