England - Part 2: Endless Treasure

Hi again, and welcome back!

I left the last blog at Poppies Thai restaurant. The next day I saw my friends off to Heathrow to return home, and I got on the train back up north to Ambleside, in the Lake District. I have to say, after spending 17 days in close company with a couple of intelligent and witty rogues, the transition to sudden “alone time” was harsh. Nobody there to hear my endless observations and ridiculous jokes, or amuse me with their own. I was very “alone in my head”, but since that’s been my default for most of my life, the reversion to form didn’t take very long.

Unfortunately by the time I arrived in the Lake District I had a wicked sore throat, achy joints, and flowing sinuses. But there was no way I was going to lay around in the B&B, I could see the nearby hills from my window, and they were calling, loudly.

So I scrounged up some painkillers, and for the next couple of days I hiked as much as I could. These are a few of my favourites from the Lake District:

While there are formal walking paths, there are also endless trails criss-crossing the hills. Thank goodness for the AllTrails app I was using, it showed them all, and with great detail. I could have easily spent a week or more here, and would love to return.

The last day was cloudy, and therefore drizzling at higher altitudes. In the morning I hiked up Wansfell Pyke, and enjoyed the misty, mysterious views:

The road to Rivendell…I mean Wansfell Pyke

During a final late afternoon stroll around the town, I found this peaceful scene:

After not nearly getting my fill of the Lake District, it was time to take the train to York. I was pretty bummed about it, as I’d just started to feel like I knew my way around, but it’s just impetus to return. Thankfully the aches and sore throat were gone, leaving only the occasional wracking cough session…

…which ended up being fully embarrassing on the train. The poor teen girl seated next to me was visibly shrinking in her seat, and I’m sure she was thinking “OMG this old man is literally going to die right next to me!” Needless to say, I switched to an empty seat as soon as one was available.

Arriving at York, the history slaps you in the face, grips you by the raincoat, gives you a good shake, and doesn’t let go. This place has been important to humanity for thousands of years. Since this trip was started on a Roman theme, it’s worth mentioning York was the site of a large Roman fort and settlement which they called Eboracum.

The dominant building is the Minster, built over the original Roman fort, and it kind of demands being photographed, except it’s almost always behind something else:

York is definitely a place for couples or groups, and since I wasn’t sure if or when another coughing fit would assault me, I spent little time in restaurants or bars. However, I walked a LOT, and thankfully York supplies endless opportunities for that too. Most interesting for me was the old medieval wall that runs around most of the city, which is also a formal city walk. Since the light varies so much day to day and hour to hour, just walking it in both directions offered some interesting photography moments:

Wandering around the city also led me to a few interesting vignettes. I came away with quite a few that I like, but here’s just a couple:

I think I saw everything in York except the Jorvik museum (which had a lineup around the block), but I can highly recommend the Art Gallery and the Museum and the city walk. I’m sure the restaurants and bars are splendid, it seems like the streets at night were filled with happy sated people. I’d also heard about the “Shambles”, which is a small area with small medieval buildings where, apparently, JK Rowling was inspired for some scenes in the Harry Potter series. I made sure to take it in, but these days it’s filled with “wizard” shops selling potions, wands, spell books, and all manner of Potter-related merchandise. There were hordes of harassed parents herding kids, and not a small number of adults without kids looking kind of sheepish, but determined.

Having had my fill of York (unlike the Lake District) I was glad to be on the train down to Portsmouth, and eventually the Isle of Wight, to visit my cousin Suzanne. I spent the night in Portsmouth at a quaint B&B that made a big deal of their devotion to the letter “G” and the colour purple, and the next morning got on the Hovercraft between Portsmouth and Ryde. The Hovercraft is a total hoot. It skims across the water like a skipping stone, faster than most speedy boats, and when it hits land it just rides right on up before settling gently down on its skirt, so you disembark onto the beach.

I can’t say enough how great it was to visit Suzanne and her husband Scott. I haven’t seen her in years, and I’ve never met Scott, but being with Suzanne was like picking up where we left off; and Scott is a very engaging person with a wide variety of interests. Both are gracious hosts, and put up with the lingering remnants of my cold.

I was treated to a very nice tour of the Isle and its fascinating history and micro-climates: the southern portion is almost Mediterranean, with palm trees and other southern plants; while other areas are more typical of what I saw in the Lake District.

Scott was kind enough to take me on a 10 mile hike around the Needles, a chalk formation that is the westernmost part of the Isle of Wight:

The lighthouse on the last needle has a helicopter pad (which, if you look closely, has a helicopter on it), which is probably the only way to reliably get there.

The next day was sunny and bright, with the occasional shower, so we spent time in Suzanne’s colourful and characterful garden:

It made a nice change from hiking all day, and it was also a photography sandbox:

After spending time in the garden we decide to do a little beachcombing while the tide was out, looking for interesting shells, stones, old glass, and other treasures. After a while we noticed a massive storm was brewing behind us, that dark slate blue blocking out the sky was a dead giveaway that we were about to get dumped on, but we figured if we could weather the storm, there might be rainbows on the other side.

That was an understatement: it was a full double-arc, 180 degrees of vibrant colour, so big that even this multi-shot panorama couldn’t take it all in:

Here’s the left side, centred on the city of Portsmouth (with the sailboat forming a counter-point to the Spinnaker Tower):

And the right side where, behind the pot of gold, the storm is still coming down in sheets:

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rainbow that spectacular.

Thanks again to Suzanne and Scott for being great hosts and handing me these treats on a platter :)

The last day in England was extremely full. I had wanted to see the Royal Museum at Portsmouth, where they had three historical ships on display: the HMS Warrior (late 1800s), HMS Victory (early 1800s), and the Mary Rose (mid-1500s). So early that morning I boarded the Hovercraft again:

…and made my way to the Spinnaker Tower to take in the views from the top. Unfortunately the windows at the top have a very blue tint, and I wasn’t that pleased with any shots, but the tower itself is kind of interesting, from the right angle:

There was a lot of reading and listening to audio guides on the ships, and not much time for photography, so this shot of the Warrior will have to suffice:

Besides, this is getting very long. Eventually it was time to board the train to my hotel near Heathrow, where I had a good night’s sleep. My last shot of England was a mothballed Concorde (the old supersonic planes from the 70s) sitting next to the runway:

And with that, my England trip is done. The whole thing was definitely a lifetime highlight/bucket list kind of trip, and I would happily visit again. Huge thanks to David, Blair, Suzanne, Scott, and everyone else who helped make it happen!

Cheers, and take care!

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