Eat, Drink And Be Merry? What Would Socrates Think?

I open the morning paper. The lift out is always more frivolous and entertaining than the main broadsheet. I flick through it nonchalantly waiting for my tea to cool. Every page is related to food or fashion. Gourmet or haute couture. Every page. Excess everywhere. I sit discontent. It seems so worthless and narrow-minded. All of a sudden none of it makes sense. Is all this necessary? Does it matter if you can find 50 different ways to cook your tired old t-bone and then give it a fancy name? Does one really need to wear 10 labels per outfit to be accepted by society?I think of Socrates' word, "Thou shouldst eat to live not live to eat". What has happened to us? Why do we crave this materialism?

Australia is a truly blessed country and I am blessed to be one of her citizens. She has always protected me, given me immeasurable freedom and opportunities beyond counting. I can’t help thinking as I thumb through the pages in front of me how we may have started to take this for granted. Many people seem happier to have things than to do things; to accumulate goods rather than to partake in life. What’s wrong with just a few good clothes? And isn’t a frugal diet more beneficial to one’s health and to the world as a whole? Global land shortage is no longer just an idea, but rather a fast fact.

People can now obtain goods from anywhere in the world with just the click of a mouse whilst sitting at home in their comfy designer armchair (whilst probably feasting on their five course meal!) “Just pop it on credit. Besides, it’s cheaper online”, is their catch phrase. Is that before or after they pay for postage and the 23% interest they’re accruing on that card? Credit seems to be one of the biggest offenders in the case of what I can only call our demise into craziness. Pay for it tomorrow. Or tomorrow. Or even tomorrow. Well someone has to pay for it somewhere and it would seem, at least to me, that we are already beginning to do this, just looking at the state of the global economy and financial systems. Isn’t it all this credit that has created this problem?

“Oh no! It’s them! They have caused it!” Always the other person. But all I see when I hear this is a three fingered indictment. You point the finger at someone else and there’s three fingers pointing back at you. We have a part to play whether directly as an individual or indirectly as a member of society.

But I mean who wouldn’t want this, right? Life is a blast revelling on Easy St. It must be the way forward. If not, why would every poor country on earth want to emulate us? And don’t be fooled. Even those countries who dislike the old US of A really want to be like it. Just ask that small child whose country is fighting against the superpower. Quietly, on his own, he’ll tell you his real dreams. And those dreams are to be like us in developed countries. Then the problem arises that for this to happen, those poorer nations must play catch up. Reach our standard of living in double time. That’s twice the destruction in half the time. And are we really better off in developed countries? No doubt in some ares we are. It would be foolish and dim minded to think otherwise. Good healthcare, no fear of having our limbs blown off by bombs or land mines or threat of kidnapping by some neighbouring despot who either wants to get his kicks or your connections’ money.

But take a close look. We all wake up together. All travel to the city on the same train together. All work at the same desks in front of the same computer screens. We all go to lunch together at the same take-outs whilst talking to each other on the same mobile phones. Then we all go to back to work together just to finish and catch the same train back home to go to bed and wake up, doing it all again. Isn’t it all a bit robotic? Where are the individual thought processes? Do we actually have any? Has conditioning seen all final traces of creativity snuffed out of us?

We have so many possibilities and opportunities open to us today. A chance to live our own story. A story very unique to us. It is a good thing to be inspired, but don’t forget to be inspiring yourself. We each have a unique gift to offer, as unique as our own fingerprints. I sense that there needs to be more stepping away from lattes and more contribution. I feel, we as a whole have become lazy and slothful, wasting our opportunities to be meaningful members of the planet. Don’t get me wrong, relaxation is good and necessary. Mindless craziness isn’t. Instead of buying that fifth pair of sunglasses, perhaps it would be better to work on ourselves to become more enlightened or find a way to help our neighbour out of a rut.

I have been to many countries, some very poor. Here I would see people who wanted desperately to change and better themselves but didn’t have the opportunities. I now find myself amongst people who have every opportunity but no will. It is easier for them just to numb themselves in front of uninspiring television. It makes me sad.

How can we rectify the balance? How can we use ourselves better? The answers are in all of us. Maybe we need to spend less time at the shopping mall and step into our own consciousness. We might be pleasantly surprised.

I Get So Emotional , Baby.........

It's been a while. Perhaps it should be longer because as they say, if you can't improve on silence, you shouldn't speak. My excuse is that I'm writing not speaking. Anyway, here's my attempt to improve on silence. You be the judge.

Use your emotions as guides What depresses you and makes you heavy? What makes you feel light and makes your heat soar? What makes you sad? What makes you fly? And no, the answer I'm looking for doesn't entail drugs!

Listen very very carefully to your emotions and feelings. Follow these "markers" closely and you will follow your heart, find your path and undertake your bliss. If something instantaneously sees you overwhelmed with joy, take special note of it. And vice versa, if something makes you feel sick, pay attention. It could be a sign that you are on the wrong track or just a reminder of what you desire. A contrast with which to compare, if you will.

However, don't become addicted to the good or the bad. Detachment is very important. Your emotions are your "way markers" but they are not you. They move you to action. Situations, according to your perception can jump from bad to good to bad to good in an instant. Stay connected to those feelings and you risk riding a very wild roller coaster. Instead, try and observe them from a distance and try not to get involved with them. I'm the first to acknowledge that this is not easy. You may think that this will make you cold, unfeeling and aloof. I believe the opposite. It will actually lead you to have deeper more meaningful experiences. You will be calm and grounded, allowing you to see the situation in full. Like looking at it through wide-angle and not with blinkers on. Respect and show gratitude for every situation. See the lesson, see how you can grow from it and experience it fully.

Remember always that you are forever fully submerged in love. Feel the deep warmth of it even when it's hard to do so. Know that each experience links up and leads you further up the ladder of enlightenment.

Don't think I'm being a spoilt sport though. Having crazy fun is important too, but take it for what it is. Don't over face it and place on it responsibilities that it cannot deliver. Enjoy it for the moment and treasure its memory. Another experience will be waiting for you just around the corner.

XXX

Greed Is Good. Or Is It? A Little Bit Perhaps?

I went and saw Wall Street 2 tonight. It gave me itchy feet to a degree. Stepping back into that trading room, even if it was just via the magic of cinema made me feel like I'd come home. Got me all sentimental and longing for it ever so slightly. Perhaps I'm being melodramatic. But it did get me thinking.....

As far as a job goes, the dealing room or trading floor is basically all I've known. All those computer screens, all those numbers, all those phones, all that banter, all those news flows, all that data and all that adrenaline. It's a very "all encompassing" way to view the world with breaking news constantly flowing in from every corner of the globe. It's also a very narrow way to look at the world- from a chair with six computer screens radiating down on you under artificial lighting all day every day. There had to be more to life. And when you start looking out of the office that you can't leave, your mind starts to wander and fantasise and you start wanting to address that issue.

So, that's what I did. I left that "cell" and stepped out into the beyond. It's a scary thing to do, leave all that security. Leave the one thing you're good at and the "labels" that your job lends you to make you feel worthwhile in life. But I had thought about it for a long time and had prepared for it as much as I could. Nothing truly prepares you for a big change like that though, and during the more difficult days of uncertainty you have to just ride the tide, go with the flow.

For some time I had wanted to do something a little more worthwhile. "Save the world" in my own small way. I wanted to change my approach to life and I had spent years addressing that. Living more from the heart with more compassion and gratitude. And it really did feel more real. A deeper, more grounding and truer way to be.

So, now I'm "living the dream" doing the things I've wanted to. Helping people feel better about themselves. There are also lots of other ideas on the boil to test me further, broaden my mind and contribute to others a little more as well as still being able to make a buck. And I look forward to it all. But tonight showed me something that I didn't realise. It's still there. That drive. That hunger. That determination. That addiction to adrenaline. Addiction? That's what it felt like, sitting there in that cinema. A drug addict viewing the prize but just out of reach of that longed for hit. The desire to step back into that familiarity. To that place where you know what's expected of you and how to come up with the goods. Like a reflex. No question. Just get in there and get the job done. Knowing that you can and knowing the high that comes from overcoming a frenetic, unpredictable and high-pressured environment.

That's when you start questioning who you are and what makes you tick. How you can be drawn to two ways of living that are polar opposites? The no nonsense, take-no-prisoners fight of the trader to the compassionate, calm heart-felt love of the soul-seeker. Is it an addiction or a defect? Should we be one or the other? Or should we take a more Taoist approach and embody a bit of both? That can be a challenging thing to balance though. Perhaps that's the lesson. Realising that both ways are possible and even necessary and can operate side by side and that we can remodel old skills and use them in new situations.

Another conundrum in the whole mystery that is life. Or perhaps it's not a mystery at all. Gordon Gekko would say that one approach is just human nature. And the other? Same answer.

Oh...and by the way, it's a super movie!!!!!

XXX

War...What Is It Good For?

To start, I just want to thank Edwin Starr for the title of today's blog. Thanks Edwin. Very cool song.

There's always a story in the news about the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. You just can't avoid it. Almost ten years on and I suspect you would need less than one hand to count the number of days during that period where either encounter hasn't been mentioned on the television or in the broadsheet. The topic of today was an Australian soldier who had served in Afghanistan turning his back on the army. In an irate email to his mate, he tells of a situation endured by troops during a certain gun fight where one soldier was killed. The email, that was leaked, berates the military for not supplying the troops with enough ammo or the right sort, insufficient back up and allowing the diggers to go into the situation with bad intelligence reports. It's a cutting email.

The night before I had sat through an Australian Story programme which focused on an Australian war correspondent who had served the equivalent of 80 odd tours in Iraq. The movie The Hurt Locker came to mind as this guy was obviously seriously screwed up by everything he had seen and experienced, but kept going back until he reached breaking point. Having brought his long list of consecutive consignments to an end, he still kept watching videos of the war, over and over and over. Why? I don't know. To try to understand it better? To try to understand his reactions to situations he had found himself in? To try to understand war full stop?

War has been part of human activity for thousands and thousands of years. It's what we do. Has there ever been a time when there wasn't some sort of war somewhere? I think not. The thing that amazes me is how prehistoric we are sometimes. What actually has war achieved? Peace? Perhaps, but for how long? Personal satisfaction for power hungry despots? Yes, but we all know they're a bit screwed in the head to begin with anyway, whether they lived thousands of years ago or today, and often even when they wear a suit and tie (a very clever disguise for all those Westerners out there, dear reader).

Humans seem fascinated by war and disaster. Just look how many of us couldn't stop watching those Twin Towers fall over and over and over again nine years ago. Don't worry, I'm not judging or accusing anyone, I include myself in that group. I also love historical novels about war. Hannibal and his elephants fascinate me, Roman army tactics can keep me in awe for hours, and the war strategies of Alexander The Great leave me speechless and impressed. But why? Is it part of who we are as humans? Is it something we have to do, just to be a mammal on this planet? I watch the television and see grown men (or not so grown if I'm honest, which makes it all the sadder) pump lead into each other, and if I detach myself enough I can see how utterly ridiculous and immature it seems.

Is this because as humans we crave initiation and awakening in what is termed the hero's journey? Think along the lines of Jason and the golden fleece. The point of the story is not just to pop you off to sleep at night. It's about overcoming your adversity by finding your inner strength and reaching your bliss as a result. The point is, the journey is an inner journey, not an outer one. Yes, you may have to overcome outer obstacles and situations to put you on that inner journey, but you have to deal with yourself, not "what's out there". Is this what we are trying to achieve in a rough and primitive fashion globally by creating war? Or is it a cunning ploy by "those in charge" to keep us in fear and hence make us easier to control? Possibly, but it's up to each of us not to buy into that.

Humans supposedly have a higher consciousness than other animals. Many believe we are more more developed both in spirit and in the mind; that our brain is structured differently, more evolved so to speak. Alberto Villodo, PhD tells of the four levels of awareness, the reptilian brain, the limbic brain, neocortex and prefrontal cortex. The former two are of a prehistoric brain and based on survival. The latter two are more evolved and wiser in their functioning. A lot of the time we don't evolve to use the latter to their potential, sticking to the former with the idea of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

It's easy to look at everything going on out there and say that the problem is too big, that you're too small to make a difference. But, as Gandhi said, you have to be the change you want to see in the world. A lot of individuals put together can make up a considerable group, and who knows, perhaps the theory of critical mass holds true and we only need a certain amount to change the whole. Perhaps we need to take a leaf out of Mother Theresa's book. When asked to protest against war, she said she wouldn't. But have a rally for peace, and she would be there for sure. SHe was focusing on the positive.Enough of pointing the finger and time to make the change for ourselves. And no matter how important and intelligent those world leaders out there look on our television sets, they're just humans and they (very obviously) have their fears. Let's help them out.

Now, perhaps I'm being way too idealistic. Maybe the gods want us to war with each other for their own entertainment and maybe my own interest in war is what concerns me. I don't know, but thought it was worth a thought. :-)

XXX

A Lesson From Two Ecstatic Goddesses

Not much to report. Everything taking place slowly, slowly. Two horses are being ridden and two pilates studios have become places of employment. Not a bad effort for a couple of weeks back down south. The weather is slowly warming and the Spring blossoms are vigorously showing their little faces. I can drive from Beecroft to Glenorie and smell flowers the whole way. Half an hour of natural aromatherapy! I'm still unpacking belongings and to be honest, the bedroom floor will probably be littered with books for some time yet. Isn't a messy environment a sign of a genius mind or something???? Besides, I could think of worse things to be littering your floor with. And better things. ;-) I was flicking through and old favourite, "Ecstatic Beings" by Shazzie and Kate Magic, both ecstatic beings themselves. I've hung out with Shazzie a bit and she is Love and Earth Mother combined and personified. We've played with lettuces together, drunk green juices, eaten vegan ice-cream and analysed that strange category of being called "blokes". After spending time with Shazzie, not only do you feel lighter and infinitely wiser, but you come away realising how perfect and gorgeous the world really is.

Shazzie and Kate have a great analogy of helping each other on our spiritual journeys. Someone reaches down a hand to help you climb a ladder, each rung leading to a higher level of consciousness, and you do the same for someone else below you. None of us are better or worse than each other, just at different points on the journey. My viewpoint is that we're all just organic portals for the mass consciousness to experience life from different angles. If that viewpoint resonates with you, then you'll realise that we're all basically the same thing; all just a chip off the old block of mass consciousness. Therefore in helping each other, we're helping the whole and therefore ourselves. Get it?? Hope I'm not losing anyone here!!!!!! This is supposed to be a fun viewpoint not a lesson in philosophy!

Breathe.

ANYWAY, I think the point to keep in mind with this whole theory, is that you HELP them up. You don't try and drag them up kicking and screaming. If they're not ready, you have to leave them. Or perhaps their path is to be one a little different from your own. You must keep your energy high and not lower your vibrations to metaphorically get under that person and push them up. It will never work.

So, let's help each other along. No judgement. No preaching. Just good old fashioned love with a little bit of trust in the "all knowing" thrown in for good measure. ANd know that at this point, everyone is where they're supposed to be in life.

XXX

Manana

I associate everything that happens in life with some kind of lesson. And as I start to find my feet in this big old sunburnt country, my next lesson is becoming painfully clear! Patience is a virtue. Not only can I not make a decision to save myself, I'm probably the most impatient person you'll encounter. Everything has to happen now. Right now! And if it doesn't, well chances are that the world will come hurtling to a complete and final end. I feel overwhelmed by everything I believe needs to be done….health insurance, new phone, job, somewhere to live, car, unpacking boxes, jetlag, catching up with people, planning ahead in general. For example, I had been back one day and had found all attempts to get a new phone failing and crashing at my feet. You guessed it…end of the world. I mean geez, I may as well give up on life right now! I guess over reaction can be a side effect of the stresses related to re-establishing yourself, but it's times like this with my elusive new phone, that you need to step back and reconnect with the observer that is in all of us. That quiet little ever present being that's been part of you since day one. The part of you that has never changed. That's the little you that can see the big picture and see the pointlessness of most of our problems and concerns in life. Luckily I was able to find mine, have a chuckle and enjoy not having my brain fried for a few extra days.

There's also some Shamanic teachings that can come in handy during these times. Don't be scared and don't scoff! Just humour me and be a little open minded for a few sentences. I was reading a book called "Illumination- The Shaman's Way Of Healing" by Alberto Villoldo PhD. There's a great lesson from the Andean shamans he's worked with. Manana. That's it. Just manana. The lesson is this…."not doing today what will take care of itself tomorrow…trusting the implicit order of the universe, even if you cannot understand it at the moment." Simple but not always easy. Especially if you're a bit of a control freak like me! It doesn't mean just sitting on your rear end, feet up and doing nothing. It does mean to progress and create your life, but in a more balanced and responsible, less chaotic way. I think it's a good lesson. In the crazy rat race of a world that some of us find ourselves in, it's a nice little bit of advice to carry around with you. At the end of the day, it's just life, isn't it?!?!

XXX

Continued Journeys

So, it's the first day of September as the plane touches down in Sydney. I have successfully avoided the southern Winter. Now it's time to continue my journey. People have been keen to tell me how one big event has ended and another is to begin. End of holidays. Back to reality. Work. Misery. Struggle. My question is why? Life doesn't really consist of beginnings and endings does it? Everything is just one long organic progression. Hopefully always looking forward. Always stepping up to the next rung on the ladder of life, learning and enlightenment. One thing always just leads to another. Forever. Maybe this is just a coping mechanism when big change is imminent, but it feels very real for me. I don't feel that my time away from Australia has completely ended, so to speak. I feel that it has changed and developed into something else. Like a progressed relationship.

My family are there to meet me in Sydney. My family are always there for me. Where I spoke about my friends in my last entry, my family is always at the top of the list. Their support, although often accompanied by questions and doubt, is always solid and for that I will always be eternally grateful. And although I know that they may see me as a tad troublesome and strong-willed, my intention is always true, even if sometimes I fail to communicate it so well.

So, let the journey continue! May it be at least as exciting and all encompassing as it's been so far. Onward and upward!!!

XXX

So Long And Thanks For All The Fish

One week left and I guess I could have travelled to any number of places, added a few new countries to my travel map to take the numbers up a bit, taken a few more photos, had some more experiences. And I'm sure I would have enjoyed that immensely, but as it turned out, I did what is more important and more enjoyable than any of that. I caught up with people important to me. Some of the people who have made these last few years some of my most poignant.

People wonder why I travel so much. Why don't I just settle down? What's wrong with me? Why am I so scared of still and set? I travel for many reasons. Of course for the excitement of seeing a new place, experiencing a new culture. Testing myself in a foreign environment; experiencing the enchantment one finds in simple beauties; questioning my own perhaps way too set beliefs and maybe even just to distract myself as more than one person has suggested!

But the most lasting and deep memories are always the people. Whether it's the people of a new land or travel companions. Travel has lead me to some of my truest friends and often biggest influences. Even those you don't get on with can cause you to take a closer look at yourself. Also experiencing new environments with old friends can make or break friendships. The friendships that hold fast are always stronger and more pure. More honest and more trusting.

Outer journeys are also catalysts for inner journeys. Inner journeys are perhaps the more difficult. They're the ones that are not always so pleasant, the ones where you have to be blatantly honest with yourself. And the friends that help you through these are the truest of them all.

Saying farewell to these people can be heart wrenching but leaving people who are the dearest to you can actually build a friendship into a very real and lasting one. The old saying comes to mind…..absence is to love what wind is to fire. It distinguishes the small and enhances the great. Absence can clear out your life completely, but what is left are friends who are pure diamonds. The most precious stones that will not only be in your life for a long time, but friendships that are strong and pure.

So, although I always know how hard it is to say goodbye, and it always is, the next hello shared will hold more joy and pure intent than any other greeting.

So, to those friends I leave today I say thank you. Thank you for changing me. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for showing me a me I never knew was there. Thank you for believing in me, helping me, guiding me, putting up with me. Thank you for reaching out a hand when I needed one and for scolding me when I needed that as well. I doubt there is anyone in the world as blessed as me. And although the pain of leaving you today is real and deep, I know that our next hello will be the greatest of moments.

Until we meet again……..

XXX

Farewell Prague

With just one morning left for exploration purposes, first stop was the Mucha Museum. Alfonse Mucha was a Czech artist who lived from 1860-1939. His fame came during his residence in Paris where he was renowned for his Art Neuve posters, especially those he produced for French actress Sarah Bernhardt promoting her different performances. He is also very well known for his enormous art work , The Slav Epic. This is half a kilometre long (20 canvases) and took him 18yrs to complete.

Next it was a quick dash up to Wenceslas Square to see the statue of the great king himself. It was interesting to see the finished product having seen the two small statues in the art gallery yesterday which were pre studies to the main event of which I was now standing in front of. It was just a smidge bigger than the other two! And with that, my very short but tremendously enjoyable sojourn in The Czech Republic was complete and it was back to London Town.

XXX

James! Where Are You?

KV isn't just famous for being a gorgeous little spa retreat for monied Europeans. Oh no. It's been in the movies as well! Anyone who's seen Casino Royale would have drooled over the actual casino. Turns out that the casino is Grandhotel Papp, right here in KV! I was in luck! James Bond would be mine! Well, I went to see the hotel and even went in and climbed all the stairs but alas, I could find neither James or even Daniel for that matter. This just can't be! Well fine. So be it. Who needs an international man of mystery anyway, right??!?! Er…..

KV is also a great example of, "there's just no accounting for taste" and that money can't necessarily buy it. Let's just say that there's a lot of what you might call Russian influence here. I'll leave the rest to your imagination. I don't mean to be harsh, but you know where I'm going, don't you?! Exhibit A……the jewellery on offer. It costs a small fortune but looks like something that you'd pick up at the dollar shop. Each to his own, I guess.

I spent the morning exploring the wooded hills amongst which KV is nestled. From my hotel window, I had spotted towers and gazebos high up on the cliff. And you know how impossible it is for me to resist a climb. They were just sitting there, beckoning me to explore. And with the temperature over 30C (I know! Real, proper Summer temps!), it was nice to be under the cooling trees. There were plenty of paths to choose from, so I just randomly picked ones that I thought would lead me to my goals. And even though I'm a professional compass user now (having used it for one full day walking in Surrey!!), I didn't pull it out once. Well ok….once. Just to find out that I was heading in a direction of 60!

I exited the woods just away from the spa area, but it was obvious that this was where the more wealthy reside. Secluded around the corner away from the common peasants. I found a couple of hotels that shall be considered for the next visit!

It was time to see the main shopping street, which is great for people watching and what better place than a little spa town in central Europe to attract such an eclectic mix of human specimens. There was also a bike race or triathlon today, so I may not have fun James Bond, but there were plenty of athletic male forms upon which to gaze and wile away the time. No complaints. Next it was time for tea, grab my suitcase and off to find my bus back to Prague.

Two and a half hours later and most of Dirty Dancing watched (they were playing it on the bus but stopped just before Baby and Johnny were about to do the last dance! Sacrilege!!), and I was back in the Czech capital. My next hotel was close and yes, fairly dodgy, but of a standard perhaps one star above my first Prague experience. By now it was 20:30, so no time to waste as there was a chocolate factory waiting to be visited! And not forgetting you, dear reader, I retained some chocolate trivia which may pique your interest. Did you know that the sugar cube was a Czech invention? One Jakub Krystof Rad invented it for his wife and it was patented on 23/01/1843. Also, did you know that solid chocolate only came into being during the 1800s? From 2000BC-1500AD, chocolate was used to make a spicy drink with Oaxaca nuns in Mexico adding sugar to make it sweet in 1500. Cheeky nuns. This lead to cacao drinks becoming ever so popular in mass, but the comings and goings of the slaves bringing drinks to the Spanish congregation was disruptive, so the drink was banned from mass. The bishop who implemented the ban was murdered by having poison put in his own cacao drink. Don't mess with chocolate addicts!! One last fact that I'll leave you with is the raised ring in the saucer. It was added by the Marquis de Mancera in the 17th century so that you wouldn't spill your hot chocolate when you stirred it or dunked your biscuits. So there you go!

XXX

Baroque, Classical, Romantic.......

Up and out probably a lot later than I should have been considering my sleeping conditions. I mean, too much time in that room could give even the healthiest person any number of toxic mould related diseases. Off then to find a bus to Karlovy Vary or Carlsbad if you're Deutsch, or just plain old KV if you're writing a blog and going to have to repeat it a few times. It was only about a 15min walk to the main bus station but having arrived, I discovered that the first available bus to KV wasn't going to be until 16:30. It wasn't quite 11:00 now. So, I bought a ticket and wandered back to my "wonderful" hotel to dump my suitcase and to embark on more exploration of the capital. Over the river and up the hill and I found myself in a big, leafy park which cojoins the Royal Gardens. It was nice to have a break from the tourists for a while. Very nice, in fact. With just dog walkers as companions, I meandered until I reached the Summer Palace. For me, although less impressive when compared to the main palace, it was perfect. With a colonnaded balcony wrapping right around, enormous windows and muted tones, I decided that I could easily live here. Its small garden was also manicured to perfection.

Continuing along, snippets of views of the inspiring palace cathedral were to be found through the huge trees. Having been a little underwhelmed yesterday, today saw me quite impressed. I felt like I should be on my Lippizaner riding through the woods to my castle, ready to banquet with the king. Such were the views and feel of the gardens. On arriving at the main palace, I decided to go to the National Art Gallery situated there to see some 19th century Bohemian art. I mean, made sense seeing that I was in the middle of Bohemia! It was obviously a gloomy era with almost all of the painting dark and moody. Heavy oils but with photographic detail. I saw one painting of Jesus and my first thought was that it didn't look anything like Jesus. Then I realised that I didn't actually know what Jesus looked like. Funny how you get programmed without even realising it! I also felt a tad like a criminal in this gallery. Just one flash photo and I was a marked man (ok….woman). The evil museum security women kept following me around. Ok Ok!! I won't use my flash! I get it! I was loving how these women were trying to be really discrete about watching me but their attempts made them even the more obvious.

There were actually quite a few restaurants and galleries in the palace complex but not having time on my side, one had to suffice. Next stop was the little tea shop I had found yesterday. Who needs alcohol when you have matcha! Wooh baby! This is powered green tea and because you get all the tea and not just an infusion, it blows your head off. Leaves you spinning. I wasn't complaining. And along with an organic green tea chocolate, there was no coming down!

Suitably energised, I was off once again. Prague is just so charming and pretty. Thoughts of Strauss et al are never far away. There's classical music everywhere you go. Whether wafting out of a restaurant or seeping through the walls of a concert hall or just a trio busking on the street corner. It took me all my time not to don my Baroque dress and wig and start waltzing around the pavement. Actually, I don't own a Baroque dress or wig, but if I did…… Plus Strauss wasn't a Baroque composer, but why ruin my little moment with the facts??

Sometimes loosing your way a bit can be a blessing. Especially when it takes you to a Belgium chocolate museum/factory/shop. I was shaking with excitement! I really don't have a problem though, you know. Honestly!! The museum would have to wait until Saturday, but a chocolate shop can never wait! Mmmmmmm……champagne truffles, Amazonian passionfruit chocolate, coconut and chocolate, wasabi and chocolate and olive oil and chocolate (hmmm….I can see where they were coming from with that one, but not for me. Reminded me of the gall stone flush I did "just for fun" once that required you drink a cup of olive oil which I respectively puked up a few hours later).

Back to pick up my suitcase and walk to the bus station AGAIN. At least I had a ticket this time. The drive to KV was just over two hours, passing through a lot of agricultural land. Arriving at the spa town, I walked the 40 minutes to my hotel and I am pleased to say that it was an enormous improvement on the previous night's debacle. It was located up a small hill right in the middle of the spa area overlooking the most charming of towns. The buildings here look like dolls houses all painted in pastels and surrounded by fur tree covered hills. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

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Bohemia

Since I last wrote, it's been time for chores. `like taking my car to the beauticians to prepare for her new owner. It was sad to see the back of Penny but glad that she has a wonderful new home with Yoli. It was also great to see Purvi from New York. It's nice when you can connect with someone having really only known them for literally 10 minutes. It was great to discuss future plans and see Purvi in action teaching pilates. Her New York style is a bit different from what I've seen over here. It's faster and really focused and I like it a lot!

Thursday had arrived and what else is there to do in the world but to discover new places and have new experiences. With that as my goal, it was off to Prague. I've never been to the Czech Republic before so really, that was all the excuse that I needed.

I know there hasn't been a "Question Of The Day" for quite some time now so it's perfect time to have a special one off. How many tourists can you fit into a public square? Now of course I really don't have the exact answer to that. It's a bit like asking how long a piece of string is, but if you wanted to solve the puzzle, a good place to start would be the Old Square in Prague during Summer. It's when you find yourself in these environments that you realise why all those far-flung and empty countries you love so much seem so attractive. Perhaps Spring and Autumn are better times to come. That is perhaps not overly fair because Prague in itself is really very charming. Of course it is very very similar to all those other Austro-Hungarian cities like Zargreb and Vienna with its coloured buildings which have possibly more windows than necessary, but it has a look that is all its own as well. And that could be another question worth asking. How many windows can you put in one building? The facades of a lot of the buildings seem just like perforated concrete and one wonders how they remain standing! (Well….not really, but you know what I mean.) The combination of the steepled skyline, old and colourful buildings and statue encrusted bridges does make for a photographer's dream and even a rubbish photographer like me can take a photo that looks like a painted work of art.

I arrived in Prague early afternoon and after an easy public commute into the centre of town and laying eyes on my "hotel", I knew it was time to go into, "this is an adventure" mode. If you can think of the entrance and reception of the worst backpacker's hostel you've stayed at and then worsen it by about 10, well that's what greeted me at my " three star hotel". Then I was told there was a little problem. Oh great. Here we go. They had, "water issues" but they would give me a room in the basement and take 25% off the room rate. I took a look at the windowless, tiny bunker with its water stained and mould covered walls. Let's face it, it was only going to be one night and for £24…….. I'll take it! Oh dear. This is when I started to think, "What has my life become????" But let's face it, five star all the time would be boring. Nice to mix it up a bit. Having said that, I can't remember the last five star experience! Time to hit the streets and first stop was the very close old square (yes, with ALL those tourists!) to see the famous astronomical clock. The clock, or Orloj, was built in 1410. It has spent quite a bit of its life broken but is full working order now and looks as brand new as ever. The area's surrounding shops take you back to times of old Bohemia with cute cafes and many marionette shops. I've never been a puppet person myself, but there is a charm and oldness about the ones you find here. As if their little wooden faces have experienced many eras and have a few stories to tell, but stories unrevealed unless a bond is created. They could take you back to a time now gone. Something else that can do this is the sight of an Absinthe cafe. Probably quite literally! The "green fairy" helped many a Bohemian artist in her day such as Toulouse- Lautrec and Van Gough. And who can resist a few Absinthe chocolates? Could that possibly be the perfect combination?!?!

Next it was off to find Charles Bridge. with its many arches and statues. This takes you to the opposite side of the Vltava River where can be found the famous castle, the site of which has been residence to leaders since Roman times and still there are remains of a church from the 800s which can be seen. To be honest, and this may be harsh, I was a little underawed upon first viewing. It is actually not the palace itself that is so "pretty" but rather the gothic cathedral inside the palace, St Vitus. With its flying buttresses, gargoyles and huge rose window, it is reminiscent of that "other" famous cathedral in Paris. It is still an amazing piece of architecture though and big enough that it's hard to fit into your camera's viewfinder. What was more lovely to me perhaps was sitting in a Bohemian cafe drinking tea and eating Absinthe chocolates. Simple pleasures. I even found myself a little later on in another church listening to another organ recital. What is it with me and organ music latley??? To be honest, I think it's a wonderful thing to do in a city like Prague. And there are lots of concerts to choose from at reasonable prices. You could go to a different one every night during Summer.

Later it was back to the hotel (I left it as long as possible!!) via Wenceslaus' Vineyard. Yes, he's the same guy from the famous Christmas Carol and was duke in these parts between 921-935. I stopped off to pick up some water and sardines for dinner. I know, I don't know why I was craving sardines either. And I thought ring pulls on these things were global. But, having unwrapped the paper, I discovered this is not the case. So, with penknife in hand, I attacked until its contents were mine!!

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Pachamama

They say you should never run a marathon before a marathon. Yesterday was the warm up. Today was the marathon. Seeing that walking has now become somewhat of an addiction, it was good to get a good solid walk in today. It was going to be a nice 10 miler, nothing too crazy, but a nice day's hill work. We caught the train to nearby Milford to immerse ourselves in the Surrey Hills, Devil's Punch Bowl and back to Hazelmere. The walk was pretty and very varied from roads to woods to burnt heathland to gullies. There seems to be just one piece of "interesting" history in this area and that is the story of a sailor who bought three strangers a few pints at a pub. Later the rogues murdered the friendly chap and as a result they were hanged in chains near Devil's Punch Bowl. This happened in 1786. That's the best they can do in 224 years of happenings. Sleepy little place. Devil's Punch Bowl gets it's name from the story of the devil scooping up the earth here to throw at Thor, the god of thunder. Why the devil actually wanted to do this and when he did it is a mystery. Maybe someone could investigate.

The walk home took us past Yoli's sister's allotment and an inevitable feast of green and glorious food stuffs was thoroughly enjoyed. Walking in nature and eating food fresh from the organic garden. This is heaven. Genevieve is Mother Nature personified, so not only is her allotment amazing, but so is her garden. If you ever wanted to know what the Garden of Eden was like in berry season, this is where you need to be. Strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, black currents, red currents, logan berries. Enough said. It doesn't get any better.

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Happy Birthday Yoli

You can only try to go back to sleep for so long. Right. Let's get this done! Finally, flight home was booked. Not the ideal date, but I really wasn't in the ideal negotiating position. The airlines were always going to have the upper hand.

Next it was time to head down to Surrey to find birthday girl Yoli. Yoli had just become the new owner of a camper van, and the plan was to drive down south to play with the new purchase. A change of plan meant that instead we drove to the camper van shop to sort out the essential kit and then onto nearby Frensham for a walk in the country. If you wanted a foreigner who had never been to England to experience what would be a stereotypical English countryside setting, Surrey would be the place to send them. Picture perfect. No recession here either! We stumbled upon a gorgeous old church built in 1219 and as fortune would have it, there was an organ recital on at 19:30. Yoli learnt the organ at school and nostalgia dictated that we must surely stay for the performance. It was 19:00, and not having eaten for hours, two charming old ladies drove us to a local cafe, food was bought and scoffed and the performance enjoyed.

Our walk back to the van afterwards was like a scene from an eerie horror movie, with mists descending on wooded pathways, the yellow eyes of foxes watching our passage. But, you'll be glad to know we made it in one piece and even had the fortune of seeing a little hedgehog waddle off to a favourite hiding place. They're not a common sight.

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Stay Calm And Carry On

How much stuff can a homeless person possess?? It turns out quite a lot if that homeless person is me. Where did it all come from? Does anyone really need all these things? What on earth am I going to do with it all? One solution is to give your mother an extra 20kg bag and a two second tent to take home. However, this still leaves you with four bags to deal with. Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!! Ok. I can do this. Not only do I have to sort out four bags, there's the small problem of finding a new home for a car, booking a flight home with points that frequent flyer programmes don't actually want you to use and just sorting life out in general. Can't I just go back to the walking track?? With Mum dropped off at the airport, it was time to step up to the plate and deal with the other issues. What one needs in these situations is a diversion, and there's nothing like a huge wholefoods stall, a big walk and a friend who you really must have dinner with to take you away from the tasks at hand for a while. It provides for a lovely evening, but alas the problems were sitting there waiting for me on my return. Another assault on the frontline allowed for little progress, so I hit the pillow at about 01:30, as frustrated as I had felt the morning before. Tomorrow is a new day.

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London Bound.......Again

Though the walk had finished, our routine was not to waiver, so we were up at 07:00, breakfast at 08:00 and off at 09:00. Military precision. It was a four hour drive back to London, a little longer when you go via Northallerton to see what all the fuss is about. We still don't know even though we did a flyby of the place. Basically it's the closest "biggish" town to a few of the little villages we stayed at. We had heard it mentioned too many times not to be a tad curious about it.

The trek back to London was broken up with a loo stop at a motorway service centre. We were shocked to find that, getting out of the car after just two hours of sitting resulted in us nearly collapsing face first onto the pavement as our legs decided to cease up. We were walking like cowboys for the next 10 minutes. It makes you realise how amazing the human body is to have got up day after day to walk. Now that it had stopped, it was really going to stop. But then, a couple of hours later it was fine again. Quick recovery. Amazing bit of machinery.

Back in London and our turnaround at our Heathrow hotel was quite fast as we had a theatre appointment to keep in town. As the rain poured down, we contemplated the best mode of transport. Public bus to the airport and then tube in didn't look that inviting in this weather. Luckily we found a lovely German man to share a cab, so the Universe provided once again.

I know parts of London quite well, but I still struggle sometimes with how it all fits together and what is close to which place etc. So it turns out that Westminster Bridge isn't as close to South Bank as was once thought and that South Bank is actually more than a five minute stroll to London Bridge. I actually designed the 45 minute or so power walk on purpose though. I mean, now that we are elite athletes with finely tuned bodies, you can't just suddenly stop the exercise. We did reach the theatre in time (phew!) and were treated to a brilliant performance of Aspects of Love. Why this Andrew Lloyd-Webber musical never took off like some of his others is beyond me. It's truly super. And this production was as intimate and as perfect as you could hope for.

Larging it up getting into London meant that it was back to reality for the home trip. Piccadilly Line all the way.

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Day 16 We Did It!!!!!!

A pair of walking shoes: £60. One backpack: £50. Pub meals every night: umm….can't remember but we paid way too much, I'm sure. Smelling the sea breeze as The North Sea comes into view: PRICELESS.

Sixteen days. Two hundred miles. Fells and dales. England traversed from the Irish Sea to the North Sea. We made it. An ok effort for a 37 year old. Brilliant effort for a 70 year old. No blisters. No whinging. Not too many wrong turns. I think we did alright.

It may have been the last day, but old AW was not going to let us off lightly and allow for a leisurely stroll in Robin Hood's Bay. Oh no. We were going to have to work for that honour. And that work was going to start right off the bat. The day's 15.5 miles (34kms) began with a steep and steady climb out of Grosmont which saw us on our way and back onto moorland. The next little village on the trail was Little Beck. My kind of town! I knew there had to be some place somewhere in the world named after me. The spelling may not have been quite right, but lets not quibble over details. It's hard to imagine the importance of the place during the booming alum mining times, with just a few little houses making up the village today. Over the River Esk and a right turn saw us into Little Beck Wood, a very picturesque meander. Hansel and Gretel kind of territory. AW had taken us a bit out of our way going here, but I thought it was worth it, although Whitby had been in our sights all day and we had been disappointed not to have had the opportunity to visit the town made famous by Captain Cook. Some (not mentioning any names here….Mum) may even go to the extent of calling the old man "dopey" for not having the coast to coast walk go more directly from Grosmont straight to Whitby and finish there. Would have saved us 10 miles and quite a few hills. But like I said, AW was to make us earn our rite to the title of Coast to Coasters. The forest walk was to take us past such interesting little curios as the Hermitage built in 1790. It is really just a hollowed out boulder with a mysterious past. Another little structure with perfect acoustics. The couple walking up the path behind us said the sound they heard emanating from The Hermitage was beautiful. They may have been just being polite, but they looked like honest folk.

Next it was onto the tea room hidden in the forest, but low and behold it was closed!! We did get a good view of the very elegant Falling Foss though. This is a fairy-like waterfall, perfect and cute.

Another big hill climb saw us out of the forest and back onto the moors. The first part was easy enough, but the further we went, the worse the way markers got. Now, some people may call our next situation something along the lines of getting a tad lost. I, on the otherhand like to call such situations an adventure. An adventure along the busy A171 rather than the idillic fields. Of course the path was taken on purpose. I know how much Mum had enjoyed the A19 crossing, so I wanted to give her another similar experience before the walk was over. We got to Hawsker in one piece (just!), so I really don't see what the problem was. I'm sure Mum will continue to show me where I went wrong for the next year or five.

All that was now left to do was track through a caravan park to make it to the actual coastline. Woo hoo! A few trekkers (well, one in particular) were heard complaining that the coast was not as pretty as Australia's and why on earth do we need to walk along it. It was really quite fine and photogenic with plenty of wild blackberries to be found, which slowed progress a little. So yummy! The many hills also slowed our weary feet, but then, there it was in view. Robin Hood's Bay!! Not the prettiest of sites but a very welcome one indeed. One last big decent saw us in the tiny town with its winding lanes. It was a lot prettier up close. We walked to the beach and were surprised to be "welcomed" by about a thousand English and their dogs. We'd never seen so many people in such an average seaside setting. It was quite funny. I'm not quite sure why the phrase, "Mad dogs and Englishmen" came to mind at this point. Hmmmm. After a quick giggle, it was time to officially end our walk by throwing our pebbles from the Irish Sea at St Bees into the North Sea and getting our feet wet. We didn't realise how very very fast the tide comes in here and our abandoned backpacks also received a watery blessing. But by this time we were unperterbed. Tradition then says that you have to make your way to the cliffside Bay Hotel, walk into Wainright's Bar and have a drink. Can you believe they don't serve champagne by the glass here??? Being lightweights, a bottle was not within our capacity, so we had to settle for a spirit and a cider. There's also a special book in the bar which everyone who walks the Coast to Coast signs. It was interesting to see the names of some fellow walkers, and wonder at the whereabouts of a few others. And there, just like that, our adventure was over. Mission complete. But then, tomorrow is another day. Perhaps this is just the beginning! More than likely, I think.

We had to catch a bus back to Richmond to pick up the car and it was a little disconcerting to cover the ground that had taken a week to walk in just two hours. We passed many familiar places. It was a bit like dying and watching your life flash before your eyes. But backwards. As we passed Roseberry Topping, which has become a bit of a favourite landmark, it took us all our time not to get the driver to stop the bus and allow us a quick accent. Oh well. Maybe next time. Good to know our enthusiasm is still there!

Day 15

Great Ra was to desert us for the first part of our journey today, but his dismissive and aloof antics were soon forgiven as the great god returned to partake in our journey for the rest of the day, providing what was possibly our best weather yet.

As per our set routine, we headed off at about 09:00 to walk right around Blakey Ridge along the road. It's desolate but at the same time beautiful. Sites of interest on the way included Young Ralph's Cross. Ok, so it wasn't directly en route, but a quick jog up the road allowed for a few photos before jogging back to find Mum. There's a great story associated with this tall, thin cross. A young bloke called Ralph used to act as a guide to the nuns at the local priory, leading them safely across the empty moors. One day whilst out walking, he noticed a hand sticking up out of the snow. Digging to save the poor soul, Ralph found the dead body of a local workman known to him. Unfortunately the man had stopped to rest and had fallen asleep in the snow, just a few miles from the safety of The Lion Inn. So as to prevent any similar outcomes in the future, Ralph erected the cross to help travellers find their way to the inn. There is also a hollow in the top of the cross where rich folk can leave money for their poorer counterparts so that food and shelter may be theirs. However, legend dictates that if you are wealthy and take the money, a horrid ending will be yours as you are engulfed in the mist of the moors to be lost forever!

The next landmark was Fat Betty, a stout white cross that stands just off the road. The head of the cross is an ancient wheelhead, possibly Norman and only one of two found on the North York Moors. Tradition requires travellers to leave and take a snack or sweet. There was nothing there for us to take, but we did leave a revolting Tracker chocolate bar. Just doing our bit……and getting rid of the rubbish food that you often find in packed lunches from B&Bs.

We next turned off in the direction of Fryup and Fryup Dale. I know more than one person who I'm sure was born there. Not looking at any particular Man Investments traders or anything!! Back on the moors, the guaranteed views of the North Sea were not to be ours today with too much haze about, even though the rain had stopped by this stage and the waterproofs were safely back in our packs. There were a couple of lovely little crofts to admire though. They blend in so perfectly with their moorland surrounds.

Soon we were back on the road and heading into Glaisdale. The cute little village was enjoying siesta while we were there, so we sat quietly by the war memorial and ate our lunch. On our way out of town we passed the gate of a property on which was attached a sign advertising the inhabitants skills. The sign read, "Builders and Joiners Funeral Directors". We couldn't work out whether the provider of services was multi skilled or whether you get the full treatment before you're buried. A gentleman drove into the property as we stood laughing. Woops. Mum thought he looked like the living dead anyway, so perhaps he was a full service provider.

We next passed Beggar's Bridge, a gorgeous stone construction built in 1619. Norbert was feeling adventurous and it was the perfect place for a bungee jump, so two boot laces later, and Norbert's dream came true. Of course the death defying leap was captured on film. Stay tuned for the pictures!

A lovely walk through the woods by the Esk River lead us to the hamlet of Egton Bridge. There were some super nice houses here and both Mum and I had ours picked out. Opposite sides of the river. The church of St Hadda is well worth a visit. The outside of the building has a row of gorgeous frescoes adorning it and the acoustics inside are perfect for a rendition of certain songs………so I've heard. ;-)

An old toll road took us the final 1.5 miles into the night's destination of Grosmont, a village famous for its railway connections. If you like a steam engine, this is the town for you. "Train enthusiast" isn't a classification that I've ever used to describe myself, but who can resist a ride on Hogwart's Express? Not Mum or me, that's for sure, and as luck would have it, the old engines made famous in the Harry Potter movies had a timetable that fitted in with ours, so a spontaneous 2.5hr train journey to Pickering and back was enjoyed. A nice, relaxing reward for having walked 14 miles (that's a huge 31kms!) in 6 hours.

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Day 14

Not much to say about today. We only walked for four hours, a distance of nine miles. We had a good uphill climb early but the rest of the time was flat as you like as we followed a track that had been a railway line in a previous life. I don't mean to sound deflating as that wouldn't be fair. It was a splendid little walk. It just didn't feel like we'd done enough to deserve our end goal, The Lion Inn on Blakey Ridge. This is a desolate part of the world with nothing but nothingness all around. Quite lovely really!

The first part of our walk saw us again on The Cleveland Way, but it wasn't long before it turned left and we continued straight along, taking our lead from the old rail line which was in operation between 1856 to 1929, transporting ironstone from the mines to the flourishing area of Rosedale, on the the other side of Blakey Ridge. Five miles later and The Lion Inn (fourth highest Inn in England. Tan Hill, which we passed near Keld is the highest) was in our sites. This is an impressive image from a distance, just perched on a hill in the middle of the wuthering moors. And they really were wuthering today. There's really not a lot out here besides strong wind and grouse. Trying to take good photos of grouse is not so easy as they blend in so well with the undergrowth. Mum thought that yelling out "bang" would get them to take off. I don't think she sounded enough like a gun though. They didn't move.

Evidence shows that there's been habitation around The Lion Inn since prehistoric times. Then some homeless friars got their hands on the area during the reign of King Edward III and built an inn to bring a bit of coin in between 1553-1558. Since then, it's been a corn market and again an inn, enjoying prosperity during the heady mining days. Today, the trade comes from walkers and other tourists. It's not so impressive from the outside, but inside there is plenty of atmosphere to be had with low wooden beams and cozy corners. Reminded me of Jamaica Inn in Cornwall.

The nicest surprise came to us tonight in the form of Roz and Kath, travelling companions from part one of the walk. They live close and dropped in to Blakey Ridge to have dinner with us, just on spec. They were welcome guests indeed, bringing laughter as well as yummy supplies. Great to see you, girls! Having said our farewells, I wandered off to play with my camera, making the most of the fading light over the desolate, silent, misty moors.

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Day 13

Today's section of walk was to provide with the type of terrain we like the best…..undulating. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement as the North York Moors provide you with quite a bit of gradient, and a super pretty walk.

We left Osmotherley to the sound of church bells and rejoined the Coast to Coast/Cleveland Way via the Lyke Wake Walk. Yes, confusing, but basically the three walks became one for today's amble. The forest before the moors was the type where you'd expect to run into Robin of the Hood and a few of his posse. They were nowhere to be seen today on the steep climb to Live Moor. We did see a memorial sign for Bill Cowley though. Mum's shocked statement of, "Oh! Did he die?!" made me think that she knew who he was. But no. Sorry…this probably doesn't sound funny, but we were in stitches for the next five minutes. Small things, perhaps.

The moors are beautiful this time of year with the dense covering of purple heather in full bloom. It was almost like walking through wild lavender fields. Almost. The elevation of Carlton Moor lent itself to some super views, and on a less hazy day, we would have been able to see our final destination, The North Sea. But today we had to be satisfied with rolling fields and cottages, Middlesborough, Roseberry Topping (cool name, huh?!) and Captain Cook's monument (one for the Aussies). Next was a steep decent at the bottom of which was Lord Stones Cafe. Although quite a modest little dwelling, it proved a popular and busy stop for walkers, cyclists, motor bike riders and Sunday drivers alike. The day's obligatory cup of tea was had before continuing on our way. Another steep climb got us to Kirby Bank on Cringle Moor before our path would divert slightly to take us to tonight's accommodation at Great Broughton, rather than onto Clay Bank Top which is the next town on the Coast to Coast. Just so you know that we didn't cheat though, I should mention that we did continue on further up the main track so to visit Wain Stones. This is a rocky outcrop on the top of Hasty Bank which was a bit of a favourite with Wainright. Supposedly they look like cake decorations. Really? Is that what cake decorations look like?? Who on earth came up with that description?? It was probably Prince Charles again. Nothing is better than scrambling up big boulders so, being the kid that I am, I was in my own little "playground". Thanks Mother Nature!

Next we back tracked to get on the trail to Great Broughton. It was a lot further than we thought. And then with another final big decent in boggy ground before a big tramp through farmyards, we agreed that surely we'd added at least another five mile to our walk today. Perhaps we should have gone to Clay Bank Top and waited for the complementary lift. But that just wouldn't have be right, now would it?!

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Day 12

Mum and I are starting to have a bit of a giggle to ourselves about how "remote" everything is out here. If you talk to the locals, where they live is just so remote. Not close to anything. A million miles away from civilisation in any way, shape or form. People!! You are only six hours away from London let alone the major city that's probably just an hour down the road! You are not remote!!! I'll give you "isolated", but probably only in the middle of Winter when you get snowed in for a few weeks, but that's all I'm giving you.

After a home meal, sleep and lots of tiger balm (I LOVE tiger balm), this morning saw us renewed, on track and ready to rock and roll. I love a good recovery. The only down was that the first part of today's section was flat road. Again!! Have I mentioned how much we dislike flat roads? Dear God please give us a hill! Just a small one will do! The flat roads are so hard on your joints and muscles. Grassed hills are softer on the feet and stretch and use different muscles.

We found a little "basket shop" at Northfields Farm. When I say basket shop, I mean a little basket on a table with a selection of water, chocolates, crisps and bananas. Honour system with the money. Mother was able to purchase her cheapest lunch yet…..80p.

There's always something on the second part of the coast to coast walk that reminds you that you're not too far from civilisation, and today we were to encounter a few of these constructions. The first was a train track. A big, wide train track. You literally have to run across and hope no trains come, and the trains were actually quite frequent. Well, a couple an hour at least. That's kind of frequent. The next obstacle was a little further up the road. The A19. Mum's been looking forward to this crossing the whole walk. Being only an A road as opposed to a motorway, it doesn't qualify for an overhead pedestrian bridge. You just have to pick your break then run and pray as you tackle the four lanes and 70 mile/hour traffic. It's at this point that you hope your legs don't give out, and having been just on flat roads, legs forget how to work properly anymore. The track leading up to the A19 was used as a training alley where a few short sprints and training jumps were employed to get things moving again. They seem to work for Usain Bolt on the telly anyway. May as well give them a try! Fellow Dutch walkers told us that the road crossing would be illegal in The Netherlands and they'd be locked up. Probably most countries would result in the same outcome. But then there's England. Bless.

Soon we were in Ingleby Cross. Some of the tougher and more determined walkers would have walked this far yesterday instead of overnighting at Danby Wiske. Knowing how we had felt yesterday, we were glad we hadn't been one of them. Lunch was enjoyed in a tiny square in the middle of crossroads. Not the most private place for a bite. We felt like we were on show. A whole swarm of the tiniest insects decided to help us out as well. Great. Our fellow Dutch walkers told us that in their home, these meant an afternoon storm. The theory proved correct for this country as well.

Just a short walk down the road and, heaven be blessed, we found a hill!! Hurrah!! The climb up through the pine forest saw all our aches and pains melt away and made me realise how much more hill work I'll be doing with horses from here on in. The forest track we found ourselves on brought images to mind of Dick Turpin and his faithful Black Bess, but thankfully today saw us enjoy a safe passage.

Our luck with the weather has been quite good over the last week or more. We've given up on trying to find the sun and are just happy if it doesn't rain. Our luck ran out this afternoon and our waterproofs were pulled out once more. To be fair though, it didn't last that long and we really haven't used used the wet weather gear for any length since Lakeland. It had to happen at some point. Soon we found ourselves on The Cleveland Way which will be our path for tomorrow, but for now it was just a short acquaintance before we turned off to find the village of Osmotherley where we were to spend the night. Osmotherley is a pretty little village with cute stone cottages, once used to house flax mill workers. There's an old village square where you can find a stone table believed to have once acted as a preaching platform for John Wesley. I'm always partial to a bit of preaching myself, so I just had to have a go. The village also boasts the oldest methodist church in the country. Makes sense.

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Day 11

"To walkers whose liking is for high places and rough terrain, this will seem the dullest part of the whole walk; those who believe that the earth is flat will be mightily encouraged on this section. The scenery is 100% rural, and all is tidily and pleasantly arranged, but the views are restricted to the road and the fields adjoining: there is no distance to attract the eye, no stimulating prospect apart from the faraway outline of the Cleveland Hills, too remote yet to excite. You have heard of Yorkshire's broad acres: here they are in person, interminable, neatly patterned by clipped thorn hedges or wooden fences, but never, never a stone wall: a foreign land indeed."

"….tedium grows apace and one plods onwards mechanically, head down, thinking nostalgically of places left behind: Lakeland, limestone country, the Dales…..(there is) nothing of interest to anyone but farmers"

-Alfred Wainright

Today was to be an easy day….and the most boring, according to AW himself, as you can read above. The latter proved to be correct, the former debatable. We left our beloved Swale River early in the walk as it left us to travel south, as we continued east. A confusing start (four signs pointing in four different directions) saw us plod along flat fields, with not a stone wall in sight. Today's views were to be mainly of wheat fields and lane ways and most of our swaledale sheep companions had grown into cows, and even those were few and far on the ground. One of the towns passed through was Catterick. There's nothing much but a racecourse here, but it has a somewhat interesting past. An old Roman fort town since about 80AD, it has been inhabited for about 5000 years. Its name comes from its Roman name of Cattaractonium, in honour of the swirling Swale waters that run through it. Bolton-On-Swale also had to be visited. It's at the local 14th century church that you can find a monument to one Henry Jenkins. Henry lived a few hundred years ago and did nothing too special in his time. His fame comes from the fact that he lived for 169 years. So they say. No one really knows, and there is no start or finish date on his monument. Oh well, you have to take a photo, don't you?!

We then wandered off track for about a mile to find Joan's tea rooms in Scorton. There had little signs along the track, but we think Joan must have gone out of business as we found not sight nor sound of her and settled instead on the local pub which was actually quite posh. We felt a bit skanky to be going in, but it wasn't wasn't going to stop us. Just perhaps a second of contemplation. No more.

Soon we were back on track to tackle the longest road section of the whole walk. Joints were already aching, but with Jon's (our leader on part one of the walk) words in our head, "You've got to keep peddling", we trudged on. I have no idea why I was falling apart today. Perhaps lack of dinner, or perhaps it was just the fact that the whole walk was dead flat. I find that really tough on the joints as your body is in the same position the whole time, the same muscles being pounded. It may also have something to do with where the mind is. So, with a metaphoric slap about the face, off we went.

Lunch was basically on the side of a narrow lane before the final pull into Danby Wiske. We (well I did, anyway) dragged our foot sore, leg sore and hip sore sorry bodies into town and collapsed at the freshly painted pub. After a quarter (yes, you read that correctly!) pint of cider, I was as good as under the table.

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Day 10 (yes....we've reached double figures! Yay!)

Today was fairly straightforward and uneventful. A lot of pretty and gentle meadow walking mostly. Our old friend and guide for the past couple of days, The Swale River was to lead us out of Reeth and then rejoin us to guide us into Richmond, the day's goal.

The first job of the day was to save a dying lamb. I went and told the farmer who didn't seem to perturbed and to be honest, the little creature was probably just resting, though it looked close to death to my "expert" eye. Well…I felt better about telling someone about it, anyway. Next we were to look out for Marrick Priory. The old abbey was yet another victim of Henry VIII's reformation. It's a private centre today so has to be admired from the road. Marrick is mentioned in the Doomsday Book and I rather think not much has changed in the village since then. We then experienced a steep climb up some steps. Well, they're called steps but was more like a steep, stoney cliff. Nuns built them. That could explain the craftsmanship. Though it probably has more to do with the age of them. I'd say they were around 500 years old. Hay meadows then took us to Elaine's Country Kitchen. This was just a farm where teas are served to hikers, but such institutions are always a welcome site and a haven of familiar faces. Everyone discusses how they are progressing and seeing that most days have standard start and end points, friends are easy to find.

Although we crossed cow filled fields today, the beasts proved kind and my "like" of cows is slowly returning. Lets not be too hasty and call it love quite yet.

The country roads are lovely to walk this time of year as the wild berries are beginning to fruit so walking was slowed somewhat by lunch on the run. On today's menu was raspberries. There really is nothing better than wild fruit and somehow you don't need as much. It baffles me how natural, wild fruit can taste like this, but then we go and domesticate it. Make it bigger and brighter….and much more tasteless. We then create chemicals that taste like the real thing. Why do we complicate things so much? The original is always the best. You really can't improve on nature.

A gentle climb got us to a lone white cairn which was a perfect rest spot before heading off for the final push. On the way, calves and farmers had to be talked to (everyone is so friendly on this walk!). I kind of liked the Miss Dolittle title given to me by the old man.

After about 6 hours, The Swale River was again in view. As was Richmond with its welcoming castle. After 13 miles, the tea shop had to be found. Tea and chocolate has become somewhat of a ritual.

We liked our B&B tonight, the views over Richmond being quite fabulous. Dinner was at the old station which has been revamped into a restaurant/art gallery/cinema. Ok, well Mum had dinner. I felt ill. It had nothing to do with the block of Thornton's coconut and lime chocolate I ate!

After dinner we wandered across to Easby Abbey (seeing we hadn't walked enough today!). It was a gorgeous stroll along the river with quite a few pretty little spots. There was also a lovely little church next to the ruins, complete with beautiful, simple frescoes. Next it was off to bed. Why are we always put on the top floor with a stair climb equivalent to Everest?!?!?!

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Day 9

If yesterday felt a tad easy, today felt like a walk in the park. And to be honest, it basically was. I even got the shoes off and walked barefoot in a few parts. Nice to get some air on your feet and some soft grass under them. It was an easy route to follow as well for having taken the low route, all we had to do was follow the river all the way to Reeth. We could have taken the high route to see old disused lead mines, but the hay meadows with their sheep were so much more delightful. Basically all the Swaledale sheep here are used just for breeding purposes. Their wool is of very poor quality, but they are sold and bred to other sheep in different areas and a couple of mixes down the line, you get a good meat animal like the Suffolk. Just a bit of trivia for your next dinner party.

The route was also littered with rabbit holes and at one stage, according to the map, we passed a "rabbit metropolis". Thought that was kind of cute, and it seemed the cliffside "properties" even had little rabbit roads leading up to them. The stiles on this section of walk are also to be considered. Most are just narrow holes through dry stone walls, so if you're a bit of a chubby, you may have a problem. Think about the high route. Besides, the extra exercise will probably do you good.

The leisurely 11.5 mile stroll to Reeth took us till about 16:00, but that included a visit to the tea house at Gunnerside. Yes…this is oh such a tough walk!

We liked Reeth immediately, the old village in the past having being a bustling hub for the lead mining industry. Today tourists are the trade of choice. Mum and I both got very excited at dinner time having headed to The Buck Hotel. There on the wall, shining like a golden, beckonning beacon were the trophy shields for the local quoits league. Oh blessed dream come true!!! An actual quoits league!! Too funny.

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Part Two Begins!

Part 2 begins! And I must say, it felt very good to be back walking once more. Today saw three important milestones. First of all, we were to cross over England's watershed once we had reached Nine Standards Rigg. Before this point, all the rivers run back into the Irish Sea. From this point on, all the rivers we pass will be running into the North Sea. Secondly, by the end of the day, we had reached the walk's half way mark at the wee village of Keld! One hundred miles done, 100 to go. We were also going to pass from Cumbria into Yorkshire. Very exciting.

We left Kirby Stephen around 09:00 for a steepish climb up to the Nine Standards. These huge stone cairns have been around for at least a couple of hundred of years. No one knows exactly when or why they were built. There are different theories, one of which was to scare the Scottish into thinking that there was a huge army camped up on the hill. Do they really think the Scottish would be that dopey? Anyway….it's at this point that your literary mind changes from thoughts of the light and airy Austen novel to those of the brooding Brontes. The Yorkshire Moors are empty, vast and today were so foggy that you could not see 5 foot in front of you. Even though we were now tackling the walk alone, it's times like these when you are grateful to have fellow walkers. Three separate groups turned into one group of 10 as we decided to tackle the Red Route together. Safety in numbers against the fog and the bogs, so to speak. There are three routes to take from the Standards and the best one depends on the time of year. To be fair, I think they are all as boggy as each other. And they really are very boggy. It was soon realised that initial attempts of trying to jump over the boggy bits were futile as we gave up and just marched straight through, praying that we would only sink to our ankles and not our knees. The wind also thought it would join in, the freezing cold adding to our joy. :-/ To be honest though, the walk was quite fun although you really had to concentrate and focus to find the few and far between track markers. We finally reached dry ground as the skies brightened up, just in time for lunch in front of the grouse butts. This is where certain folk come in August to get their thrills by pumping lead into the birdlife. Nice.

Our first sign of civilisation since Kirby Stephen was soon in sight in the form of Ravenseat Farm. Shepherdess Amanda, who lives here with her husband and five kiddies has become somewhat of a celebrity in recent times. She has appeared on Julia Bradbury's BBC series of The Coast To Coast Walk and is now staring in her own reality tv show about the day to day runnings of the farm. She wasn't home when we first arrived, much to our disappointment, but as we hung around talking to other walkers and also her young son Reuben (the proud owner of a crate of hay and expert fixer of toy sit on tractors), she arrived home and tea was served. She's as sweet as pie and it was lovely to meet her. Though if they want the business to keep coming in, perhaps taking the dead and rotting moles off the fence may help. They stink!!

Next it was just a short walk along the road to Keld where we waited for a ride to the evening's accommodation. 14.5 miles over 7hrs was covered today. This is starting to feel way too easy!!

Dinner was at the local pub. No surprises there. We're actually getting a little over pub meals. Having said that, we were thrilled to find an entry form for the local agricultural show. Going through the events, we thought we might enter the best bale of hay class. With £3 up for grabs as prize money, it was very tempting. I also cursed myself for not picking up a certain book I spotted in a Kirby Stephen bookshop,"The Leek Book. Growing And Showing Exhibition Leeks". I'm sure I would have sailed through the Open Vegetable Classes with that one.

Instructions On How To Pass 10hrs In Kirby Stephen

We were picked up at 07:30 today so that we could leave the car in Richmond and return to Kirby Stephen to begin Part 2 of the Coast to Coast. Not only have we now been to Kirby Stephen twice before, but let's be honest, there's nothing there. So, what does one do for 10 hours waiting to be let into your B&B? We don't know. We struggled ourselves! But this was our attempt…

Walk the high street up and down twice.

Find the sheep auction yards

Drink tea at a cafe and then work out ways you can stay longer by alternating your ordering of round two (Mum's cup then mine 10mins later) so it doesn't look like you're hogging the table when they get busy)

Pick up boots that were being repaired by the old cobbler and spend 10mins talking to his dog, Shep.

Visit the outdoor shop and get some ideas from Mark the shop assistant

Go and visit the local church as suggested by Mark the shop assistant

Get to know a bit about the word Kirby (Scandinavian…..places where they built a church!) from signs in the church. Admire 8th century bits of stone also in the church

Sit in a pew and sing old school hymns that you remember (where's Yoli when you need her to do some harmonising??!)

Get a hymn book and sing some more hymns as Mum continues doing her crossword. I'd forgotten how much fun school hymns could be!

Text Mr Marchant to get crossword answers.

Run out of hymns to sing and start on show tunes and goddess chants, ending with a bit of Pie Jesu and Phantom of the Opera.

Vist the OTHER food co-op.

Sit on a street bench and contemplate Nine Standards

Have a massage that turns into a feldenkrais session. Actually very interesting!

Have dinner at 16:00pm.

I know..…we were yawning by this stage too!

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York

With another rest day, it was of to visit York, just an hour south down the A1. No matter how many time you visit York, it never disappoints. A pleasant coincidence saw us in York on the same day as Mr Mongolia himself, Richard Dunwoody. Though today the title of Marathon Man may be more fitting as he was there to run a charity 10kms. It was great to catch up (and thank you Richard for the backpack fitting. I love it!) and we wish his back a speedy recovery. Rest Richard. You really must learn the meaning of the word. ;-)

The rest of our time in York was spent wandering the streets and admiring the Minster. The Minster is just so impressive, though I think £8 to light a tealight is perhaps a little steep (cost of admission). The Shambles are still cute and the ghosts are still everywhere. Ok…so we didn't actually see any, but surely they're there with all those ghost walks running.

On the way back to Richmond it was time to reminisce and we decided to go off track a little and pay a visit to Yorkshire Riding Centre. Unfortunately Christopher was out and I'm sure he would have been as disappointed as us not to catch up and relive the past a bit. See you in Aus soon, Christopher!

Back to Richmond for dinner and a sleep.

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And The Winner Is........

A couple of hours to wander around Richmond turned into an all day event. Most of the time was spent at the castle. It was built by Alan The Red in the 11th century. There really isn't a lot left of it now, but it's had an interesting history which includes being a military base not that long ago. It was an event day today, that event being "Swinging '60s". A bit strange for a medieval castle. We did run into Mr Gamesman himself, Don. Don and his wife Kathryn do talks and displays all around the country. Today the duo had old games galore. Only two Ashton women could be so aggressively competitive over a game of quoits. I'm proud to say I took out the Quoits. No problem. I think I can safely say that the skittles crown and bagatelle title were also mine for the taking. The ring board proved a tad more challenging and I unfortunately choked during match point. Aunt Sally was good to vent the frustration after the loss though. This is where you have to bash a doll off a stand with a wooden stick. Nice. Mum tried to cheat a win but, let's face it, we were both rubbish at that one. Mum easily walked away with the shuffle board and boulles title. I wasn't even in the running. How to kill 2.5hrs. Small things you might say but hey, we were happy.

We were next off through the winding wynds to explore the rest of the town. Prince Charles has compared the market square to Siena. Has he actually ever been to Siena?? The answer is either no or he has one amazing imagination. Yes it's lovely, but Siena???? We visited the Georgian theatre, newly restored in 2003, and it truly was a highlight. It remains a working theatre and the tour left us disappointed that we couldn't see a performance. It was simply charming and the most intimate little theatre imaginable. Really must come back.

I shall leave you with a lovely little verse about Richmond written by Mr M Wise in the 1800s: "Up above a castle! Down below a stream!

Up above a ruin! Down below a dream!

Man made the castle, rude, forbidding, bare.

God made the river, swift, eternal, fair."

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Giddy up!

Today was a day of chores. Washing had to be done, massages had and cracked windscreens fixed. With all jobs done, we headed off to Richmond. We had no idea how long it would take as distance signs in Kirby Stephen are all in furlongs. Fine if you're on a racehorse. We have enough problems with miles let alone eighth of miles! Sad as we are, we decided to take the back roads and get a feel for the next part of the walk and check out our upcoming accommodation. Why? Why not. This is desolate country and you wonder how the people who originally farmed the land coped in their cold, stone barn houses during those long, long Winters. It was bad enough today in the height of Summer..…grey and drizzly. We did find a brilliant cafe though in Thwaite. You drive through nothingness and then wonder where a place like this came from. It was positively 5 star.

It's a bit disheartening arriving in Richmond after about an hour's drive knowing that it's going to take you about three days to walk. Why does it take so long?? I just can't work it out! Richmond is a medieval market town with the ruins of a super little castle perched on the hilltop overlooking the Swale River, complete with lovely little waterfalls. Word of advice though….when someone recommends The Turf Hotel for a meal, don't listen. Go to The Kings Arms instead. The food is better and it's good for a laugh. After much observation, we decided that it was the place in town for either internet dating first dates or affair central. Nothing like a bit of people watching.

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Day 6 and 7

By comparison to the last few days, today was gentle, short and sweet. The views were never going to be as brilliant as the last few in The Lakes, but there were lots of sheep. And lots of cows. Sheep I can handle. Cows. Well after the run in with THAT heard in Cornwall, I have been left with a mild phobia.Ok…maybe not so mild. Therapy is imminent.

Today's walk was "only" 12 miles and would only take us 6hrs, so we had the luxury of taking it easy and enjoy the surrounds. The first part of the trail took us to Shap. On the way we passed the ruins of Shap Abbey. The Abbey, erected in 1199, was the last built in England. It was also the last to be dissolved by Henry VIII in 1540. Shap is often the overnight stop of those who push themselves through for an uber long day from Glenridding the day before. With a supermarket and tea shop, it's positively pumping. We stopped for a tea. Very civilised and in a way made you feel like you were cheating a tad. Next it was time to cross the M6 motorway, another piece of engineering that makes you feel like you're not on the coast to coast, strolling through the English countryside. The rest of the day was, to be honest a little mundane compared to what we'd been used to. Lots of moors and lots of sheep, with the odd bolder left over from the times when glaciers ran through the area. We were reminded for the last time of our previous few days with Kidsty Pike in the distance and Howgill Fells flanking our passage to Orton, our overnight stop.

Orton is a delightful little village and with its own little chocolate factory, what's not to like?! It seems to be the sort of village where Londoners come to make their sea change after making their fortune in the big smoke. There's a bit of money about considering the size and location of the village and talking to the locals, the theme seems to be a common one. It's definitely a place to come back to.

The following day saw us head off to Kirby Stephen and hence end part one of the walk. Even though the end is in Kirby Stephen , you can't officially call it half way. That honour belongs to Keld, a few days down the track. Mum and I were the "official guides" on today's leg, our leader assigning us the title to give us some practice before letting us loose on our own in Part Two. I think we did ok, although we did get in trouble for going too fast at times. But when you have the end in sight, it's hard not to leg it a little. We passed old railway routes, pretty streams, disused lime kilms and also Severals Village. This is an archaeological site said to be the most important prehistoric site in Britain. It's completely unexcavated though so unfortunately there's not much to look at.

All that was left to do now was make it past a few more cows and a barn yard full of sheep before treading the pavements of Kirby Stephen. Seven days of walking and 85 miles later, it was time for a couple of days of r & r.

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Day 5

Today is known as the most difficult leg of the walk. It's tough and it's long….just how I like it! We had to to hike from Glenridding to Bampton Grange. There's no warming up on this leg. Straight into it and up Boredale Hause. The views at the top of Angle Tarn are your reward. It really is a special little spot, complete with its own mini private islands. The second climb up to The Knot comes quickly, but again there is a reward. You get to experience the High Street, an old Roman road that ran north south. Why on earth did they build it up here though, was all I could think. The answer is that it was built to link the Roman forts at Ambleside and Penrith. It's one of those paths that just draws you in with a "come hither" stare, but alas we had to turn left, not right to reach our final Lakeland summit of Kidsty Pike….the highest point on the Coast to Coast. From here it was a steep decent down to Haweswater reservoir and if your legs weren't feeling like jelly before, they were by now!

Haweswater was once a small, unassuming lake but is now Cumbria's largest body of water, its valley being flooded and dammed. Unfortunately it saw some villages being swallowed up by the inundation, the largest being Mardale, whose walls and building can still eerily be seen if the water level is low enough. Finally our destination of the day, Bampton Grange was happily in view, with its gorgeous little church built in 1726. Just try to stop me imagining I'm in a Jane Austen novel! It was time to say a sad farewell to The Lakes District. We were now in The Eden Valley.

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Day 4

During the last 3-4 months I've been wet and cold rather a lot. A little ironic considering I was remaining north to avoid the southern winter! Today was no exception. The shirt was again stripped off mid-route in favour of the fleece, but happily the weather improved as the day progressed.

Today saw a tough climb early, but it could have been tougher if the option of Helvellyn and Striding Edge was taken. I was disappointed that it wasn't. It was a pretty enough route though, passing Grisedale Tarn and seeing "The Brother's Parting". This was the spot where William Wordsworth last saw his brother before he was drowned at sea. There is also an old barn en route where Wainwright once "illegally" spent the night in 1954…..Coronation Day and the day Everest was conquered. He was a little miffed that Hillary had taken that honour and not himself but alas AW, a fell is not Everest.

The five hours of walking had felt like two and soon we were over the hill and in Glenridding, pear cider in hand (after an hour's pilates sesh, of course!!)

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Day 3

Accommodation at Rosthwaite was run by Rachel. Seventy three year old Rachel is a gem and a character. She regularly goes up the mountains to rescue people and gets around with Pip the parrot sitting on her shoulder. She had our gear all dry in about an hour. Angel. Dinner was at the very crowded pub down the street. Where did all these people come from?? The food left a little to be desired but, well, hey ho.

Today was going to be another tough one, but that's to be expected in this part of the world. It was up and down with a final big UP to Helm Crag. The views over Ullswater, Windermere and Grasmere are worth the effort and you'd be hard pushed to find a prettier lunch stop than the one experienced today.

The other interesting thing about the coast walk is that you keep running into the same fellow walkers day after day. It's heartening and nice to exchange stories and encourage each other along. We all made it to Grasmere at the not-to-late time of 15:00 with "only" 10 miles covered today. I actually find these "strenuous" days less taxing wit the brain more occupied, as I explained earlier. I was ready to do it again!!

Mum was in good form tonight, first of all by voicing her concern about catching chlamidia (that's not an algae, Mum!) from the tap water! Next, whilst watching a tv programme on some Amish people and observing them making their own clothes, she wanted to know, "Haven't they heard of China??"

It was lovely to end the day by drifting off to sleep with the view out the window of the recently conquered brooding fells.

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Day 2

We had spent the night in the little village of Ennerdale Bridge. As long as there's a pub, there's a village. Even if that's all there is. And that really is all there is at Ennerdale Bridge. You can really consider this the gateway of The Lakes District, one of my favourite places in the whole of Britain, and home of some brilliant fells, crags and pikes just waiting to be climbed! Bring it on! The first part of the walk sees you skirt the whole length of Ennerdale Water and then onto views of Haystacks, one of Wainwright's favourite fells and where his ashes were scattered. Lunch was at the very remote hostel of Black Sail. It's bleak and lonely and we made it inside just before the rain started. But then, what's a walk in Lakeland without some sort of precipitation, huh?! It wasn't going to give up and so it was with gritted teeth we had to brave the steepest section of the Coast to Coast walk up Loft Beck, horizontal rain as our climbing companion. The spectacular views back to the coast were to elude us today, but the view of Honister with the slate mine's tea rooms were welcome indeed. The elements had proved that our waterproofs weren't quite as their name implied, and soaked to the skin and torturously cold, it was off with the shirt, on with the warm, dry fleece and a hot cup of tea teamed with a bar of chocolate dipped in…all melty, warm and gooey. Mmmmmmmm. A welcome goal reached. Oh! The joys of high Summer in England. It's at times like these that you wonder wether a sun drenched Greek island may have been a better choice of destination. But hey..…where's the fun in that?!?!?! So onward to Rosthwaite and the weather improved on our home run. After another challenging 14 miles in 8hrs, we felt pretty good about ourselves.

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