RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: June 2012

Hiking in England: From the deep country to St. Michael’s Mount and The Sign of the Angel

St. Michael’s Mount

Heading for the Cotswolds

“This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England” 

I’ve wanted to hike over England’s cliffs and fields for years – full days of hiking (but ending up in some lovely B&Bs – no camping for me!) in some of the most beautiful countryside on the face of the earth. I was lucky to find a friend who also wanted to spend time hiking the back roads and cliffs of Cornwall (which I had visited before). But I had never been to the Cotswolds and Diane knew it well. So off we set….

Arriving at Gatwick right on time, Diane is waving madly across the baggage. Nice to see a familiar face! Our first stop on this particular journey is the Cotswolds. We pick up the rental car, and we are on our merry way to Broadway, a beautiful small town full of atmosphere and charm. On the other side of Broadway in Wilversey, we find Lowerfield Farm, surrounded by quiet fields and country roads. It is a pretty yellow painted two story stone farmhouse, with an appealing landscaped garden. Diane and I are so tired and cold when we arrive, we ask our host if we could get some heat turned on, but she looks rather taken aback: “We don’t turn on the heat until late September!”

The bathroom has a marvelous deep tub – great for warming up. After which, I creep into bed and fall fast asleep. At 4PM, awake and ready to eat, we drive into Broadway. The overcast skies have cleared, and the sun appears. We slowly ramble the street, peering into every shop window – all of which could have been lifted en toto from Dickens – all the golden Cotswolds stone – all hung with ivy and other vines, and surrounded by blooming flowers, from lavendar to double headed pink and purple petunias to bright red geraniums. Broadway is a charming town, full of atmosphere. The people are delightful- and it is not busy (at this time of year, anyway.)

A view from a bridge

A tiny pub and restaurant called The Horse & Hounds looks inviting, and a young Polish waiter with a long brown ponytail waits on us; he is very sweet. Diane and I share a bruschetta dish (yummy), then it’s on to pasta primavera, finishing off with strawberries and cream (me) and strawberries and custard (Diane)- absolutely wonderfully delicious. Unfortunately, we forget to tip our delightful waiter…

Back at Lowerfield Farm, we find our hosts have turned on the central heat – just for us (primarily me, being a cold-blooded type). Diane plans out our Cotswold Walks – and we are now again in our beds, all warm and cosy for the night with the green fields of the Cotswolds and a profound country silence surrounding us. Note: We have an explosive toilet….

Lowerfield Farm, a view from the window the morning of the hunt

We view the hunt 

Up at 7:30, we prepare for breakfast at 8:30: Muesli, cream, coffee, pears from the garden, yoghurt and hot chocolate. As we are in the middle of breakfast, a hunt comes through: we see the masters of the hunt in their brilliant red coats, and the rest dressed in hunting green, with about 20 hounds sprawling across the front lawn. The horses are beautiful! Our next-table neighbors are three delightful ladies, who have bussed in from another Cotswolds town for a few days’ vacation. They told us they spent the night baking in their rooms – someone had turned on the heat! We kept silent.

 Bibury, the Swan Hotel, Burford and the Windrush 

In Bibury

After breakfast we drive to Bibury to begin our first hike -I am nervous about driving on the left hand side, not to mention the roundabouts. Bibury is a beautiful little Cotswolds village with a river running through it. We park and begin our 6 mile walk through completely entrancing countryside – small woods, rolling hills, tiny streams. The weather is incredible: blue skies, sunshine, warm – we start off in jackets, end up in t-shirts. This walk takes about 2-l/2 hours.

Another Bibury view

It takes us back into Bibury by a different footpath, where we have lunch at The Swan Hotel, an historic old ivy-covered hotel overlooking the river. Diane has carrot soup, I have chicken tikka and chips! After this repaste, we drive to Burford to begin our second hike, which takes about three hours. All told, we hike about twelve miles today – nice!

Walking through fields of golden wheat

This particular hike is through fields of wheat cut for the winter – the imagery is gorgeous…then it’s back roads, and copses, til we reach a narrow river called the Windrush, where we see beautiful white swans.

A swan on the Windrush

We walk through companies of cows, sheaves of sheep, and pheasants galore! Then it’s on to Stowe-on-the Wolde, where we have a light dinner (salads with feta cheese and lots of ciabatta bread…)

The Swan Hotel in Bibury

Back to Lowerfield Farm. It’s dark by this time. The Cotswolds are beautiful, beautiful. I love Broadway and Bibury – beautifully small and lovely villages. I feel really tired tonight — stress and jet lag catching up with me!

Stanton, Stanway, Snowshill, Buckland and Laverton

Hiking to Stanton

We are up at 7:30 as usual, and have a big breakfast: Muesli, egg and bacon, coffee. Then it’s on the road for a short drive to Stanton, which is (yet another) beautiful little village. First a word about the weather: it continues to astonish us how incredibly gorgeous it is. The skies have drifts of a few white clouds but the sun is shining madly, and it is 80 degrees. Everyone we meet is incredulous about our splendid weather. It is absolutely refreshing, and to keep it “hikeable” there’s a lovely crisp breeze. At night, the sky is clear as a bell, and the moon is a harvest moon, huge and golden in the black Cotswolds sky.

An old English church graveyard

Anyway: we drive to Stanton and park the car, preparatory for our hike from Stanton to Stanway, Snowshill, Buckland, inadvertently through Laverton and then back to Stanton. I thought Broadway delightful, but for me, these towns are the real thing! What a lovely, lovely hike. We start before 10AM, and finish around 4PM.

Laverton

Stanton is a completely charming town, and Laverton is absolutely gorgeous: Cotswolds cottages built of the sunny Cotswold stone, beautiful gardens, surrounded by the rolling hills and farmlands of the country.

On the first leg of our hike, we meet a group of about twenty men and women, approximately our ages, led by a local guide. She said the men love to talk to us “young sprigs” and we appreciated the sentiment! This is the leg of the hike that leads up the steepest hill for about 30 minutes, and left me breathing hard (such a wuss). When we arrive at the top, the whole of the Cotswolds lies before us. Pictures I have seen cannot begin to describe the beauty.

Somewhere in the Cotswolds

We then walk part of the Cotswolds Way, through fields, woods, over many stiles and through many gates. We walk through the enchanting village of Snowshill (in which I will actually stay a few years later) -a Cotswolds gem of a village, tiny and seemingly untouched by tourism: lovely architecture, picturesque homes dripping with flowers and beautifully and personally landscaped. Our companions leave us in Snowshill, where they picnic in the old church graveyard, while Diane and I have a pub lunch – ploughman’s (cheese, bread, pickles). The sun shines brilliantly as we continue over hill and dale.

On a downward trek, we meet a delightful woman named Maury who is in training for a hike for a cancer group, along the Great Wall of China. We have a fun conversation for half an hour, then she wound her way to somewhere else, and we continue through the fields to Stanton. We hope. We aren’t sure where we are parked, so we walk the town and finally ask a friendly old man sitting on a bench beneath a tree: “Where are we?”

It turns out we are actually in Laverton — NOT Stanton — and are given directions to a stile around a corner down a street, turning back into the fields at a tree. Hmm. (Laverton is another village that is a step back in time —  totally free of tourists — except us — no crowds, etc.)

We come to Stanton’s church spire, wind back through a farm, and come out to our car parked at the Cricket Club, where a match is taking place. Fun to watch, incomprehensible to figure out! But nice to see those cricket whites once again.

From the top of the Broadway Folly you can get 360 degree view of the Cotswolds

Back in the car, Diane drives to the Broadway Folly, atop a hill, from which we get an astounding view 360 degrees of the Cotswolds. Fabulous!

Then it’s back to our B&B, freshen up and drive to Chipping Camden for dinner and a quick walk down the main street. Great conversation at dinner, despite the fact that Diane is a Republican and I a Democrat! Then it’s back to Lowerfield Farm, and so to bed. We are hoping for more of this supremely gorgeous weather tomorrow, as this is to be our longest hike.

Lower Slaughter, Naunton, Bourton-on-the-Water

7:30 and it’s down to breakfast (the usual fabulous feast) and by 9-ish, we are on the road for Bourton-on-the-Water, where we begin our hike (about ten miles round trip, longer with side trips). We hike through prosperous-looking farms, over farmland, through woods, besides rivers and streams – through Lower Slaughter.

On the way to Bourton-on-the-Water

A picnic lunch of crusty rolls, cheese and tomatoes in a field far from anywhere is a nice break. Then it’s on to Upper Slaughter where we stop in a pub for a drink – fabulous, incredible 80 degree weather.

Sky clear as glass. Then it’s on to Naunton, across grassy ridges, through more woods and fields and eventually back to Bourton-on-the-Water.

Bourton-on-the-Water

The day is supremely beautiful. Why I even bother carrying a rain jacket in my backpack I don’t know. I am actually tanning! My arms are brown as a berry. Not that many people are out and about, surprisingly. We see a few – a very few – on the trail, and they are all very pleasant.

The mists of time

Back at Lowerfield Farm. Richard, our host, is a delightful man. We only see him in an apron serving us breakfast, but he is invariably chipper and friendly. His wife, Jane, on the other hand, is very distant! Richard’s all jolly hockey sticks, cheery and pip-pip. I like that…This has been a really lovely four days. Beautiful weather, fascinating hikes where we have seen the “real” Cotswolds – not the tourist towns but real back-in-time tiny hamlets that are truly “old England.”

Dartmoor and the Warren Hill Inn

A view of Dartmoor across from the Inn

We leave Lowerfield Farm (sob) and drive to the M-5, all the way to Liskeard (I am driving.) We stop off in Chudleigh for lunch, where Diane takes over the driving. From here it’s on to Dartmoor National Park. I love it!! So wild and desolate and full of sheep and wild ponies. Beautiful. You could imagine Heathcliff and Cathy running across the heather.

Wild ponies on Dartmoor’s heath

The sun shines all day long. At the top of the world in the middle of nowhere on a road through Dartmoor stands the Warren Hill Inn. Here we stop for a drink. It is a little cool out on the moors, so a wood fire is burning in the fireplace, and it is a true old-timey pub atmosphere, deep and dark. We chat for a while with a man who is looking at properties to buy for leasing to visitors. He is very sweet and takes our pictures without a murmur. He is from Bath – incredible crusty accent…

Diane and I in front of The Warren Hill Inn in the middle of Dartmoor

 Talland Bay – and Allhays

From Warren Hill, we drive down narrow, then narrower, then even narrower lanes with high hedgerows. Through tiny villages and hamlets we drive and through some of the loveliest countryside (Dorset) which is every bit as delightful as the Cotswolds. We drive all the way to Looe, then we find Allhays on Talland Bay. It is an absolutely beautiful, elegant and charming B&B overlooking the Cornish coast. What a view from our bedroom window – unbelievable!

Beautiful Allhays B&B in Talland Bay

Allhays is a very lovely B&B off the beaten path <it has since closed>. Situated on Talland Bay, between Looe and Polperro, it’s cream-colored stone outside, with bushes heavy with hydrangeas surrounding it. The interior living room (for guests) has two lovely cream colored, soft chenille sofas, and the whole house has the French touch, with patterned draperies, beautiful pictures, and the woodwork painted in heavy high gloss cream. The carpet is cream bordering on ecru up the stairs. Annie, (one of our hosts, and French), has placed a fresh yellow rose in our lovely bedroom on the second story. The bedroom overlooks the lawn in back which leads to the view of the cliffs and then the sparkling sea.

Our bathroom is the size of a pea.

When we are ready for dinner, Diane cannot find the car keys. After frantically checking the car and the trail back to our room, and looking under the bed, in her backpack and various pockets, they  turn up in her purse. Hmmmm.

Onward to dinner in Polperro. Yum-o. The loo has toilet seats of fish embedded in plastic. Back in the car on the way back to Allhays, we miss the turn in the very dark road, drive all the way to Looe and back before we finally find our turn. Talk about two tired girls…

A tiny Polperro lane

 Polperro – a real step back in time

We are up around 7:30 and have a traditional, and delicious, English breakfast in Allhays’ sunlit breakfast room. The room is nothing but windows which look out onto the back “garden” and all the way over the cliffs to the sea. Incredible views. Breakfast includes muesli, yoghurt, homemade bread and jams, etc. Mowgli joins us for breakfast. He wanted to join us in the bedroom last night, but as Diane said “it’s the cat or me!” I had to opt for sharing the room with her! Mowgli is a beautifully marked sealpoint Siamese, sleek as a whistle, and very loving. I didn’t want to put her out (especially as I love her name, straight out of Kipling’s “Kim”) but she seemed to settle down on the landing.

On the way to Polperro

This morning we are setting off on our hike to Polperro (two miles coastal). A fabulous walk – all downhill – along coastal beauty that is almost ethereal. We reach Polperro, and stock up for lunch. Me: Cornish pasty, crusty roll (still uneaten), and a tomato.

Hiking the cliffs to Polperro

I have a banana in my backpack (still uneaten). Diane has grapes and a raisin scone. We wander around Polperro, and I find the Noughts and Crosses Inn – still there after all these years! Jean and Toni (good friends of mine in Houston) honeymooned at this inn 60 years ago. We ramble around and window shop, taking pictures of the harbor, the sun shining brightly on this attractive little fishing village.

The harbor at Polperro

Then we are off on our challenging cliff walk from Polperro, round the point, then up and over the fields. The sun is very, very strong, and the sky is clear and deep blue, while the water seen down below is silver blue.

Crumbling ruin in the middle of a field on the cliffs

We walk and walk and WALK – mostly uphill – stairs and more stairs – up and up and UP! And then across fields, again uphill, past a deserted barn into a narrow lane, and then on the downhill road to Polperro. We have been walking since 10AM, and it’s now 3 o’clock. I LOVED it.

I will never tire of hiking these marvelous cliffs

We arrive in Polperro, have a lemonade (why does the lemonade taste so much better here than at home?) and still have two miles left to go back to Allhays – all uphill and over the cliffs. The coast road back to Allhays is often a narrow lane banked by hedges of brambles, blackberries and ferns. All along the coast these hedges are alive with butterflies, fluttering everywhere, and the hum of the bees. We finally reach Allhays in time for a shower and then out to dinner. Our dinner lasts three hours – we talk non-stop. Then it’s back to Allhays down the dark high hedge-lined lanes. We figure we’ve clocked in about 45-50 miles to date.

The back of Allhays seen from the breakfast nook

 Over the hills and far away: Fowey, Bodinnick, Polruan, Mevagissey

Wake up at 7:30 to another glorious day. The view from our bedroom window is stunning. Off we go after our muesli, yoghurt, granary bread (home baked), and Scotch pancakes, to drive to Fowey/Bodinnick, drop off the car and begin a hike around the coast (which is projected to take about three hours.) The cliff walk is not as challenging as yesterday’s, but it is just as beautiful, and a little cooler, although the sun is shining madly.

Fowey’s harbour

We walk narrow cliff paths rimmed with blackberry bushes, ferns and brambles; deep lanes lined high with hedgerows; past ancient churches; over fields and streams – the silver sea looks like a mirage –incredibly clear, incredibly beautiful under the sun, and stretching for miles and miles.

Over the hills…

We have eaten a good breakfast, and aren’t hungry, until we come back around through Polruan, where we stop for a quick bite. It is very interesting and odd that we meet yet again – for the third time – a man we had first met yesterday leaving Polperro for the long hike. We met him again on the way back to Polperro, and now again in Fowey…small world!

And far away…

Fowey (pronounced Foy) is a pretty town. Lots of people are out and about, as they are in Polperro, which is the quintessential fishermen’s village: houses hang from the cliffs, steep, steep lanes and roads everywhere, flower boxes on every possible wall, door, corner, eave, restaurant front – the ever-present sea breeze cooling us off – and the seagulls squawking. We are not supposed to feed the seagulls. They’re “dirty” and “dangerous” birds, according to one old-timer. One bird even has a “Wanted” poster – full face, left and right profile…

An incredible view of the bay

The Fowey/Polruan hike is great – weather, sunshine, paths, views, length of hike and nice people everywhere. “Where are you from?” is the ubiquitous question. So many people have been to Florida or Texas. One man sitting on the bench atop the cliffwalk asks “What do the American people now think of Bush?”, and we ask about Blair (“Some question his honesty!”)

Fields like this are part of Cornwall’s charm

We catch the ferry back from Polruan to Fowey, and then another from Fowey to Bodinnick. Our car park is up an extremely steep road – takes about half an hour to reach the car. We then decide to take the ferry across to the road to Mevagissey, a supposedly beautiful Daphne Du Maurier haunt. I think she was born around there; there are certainly enough bookstores prominently displaying her books, her photographs and other memorabilia – but Mevagissey is such a letdown. It is tourism taken to the extreme, full of tacky shops and non-descript architecture, not in the least bit picturesque or attractive. And yet some literature noted it as “One of the prettiest villages in England!” Not!!

Even the architecture – houses and shops – is totally undistinguished. We walk around for half an hour, then get our car and drive back – in rush hour traffic – to the ferry, then we stop to pick up some picnic items for dinner, and so back to our beautiful Allhays to pack.

Marazion and St. Michael’s Mount 

Up and away from our beautiful Allhays by 9:30 (sob) after our usual yummy breakfast, which this time includes stewed plums. The day is overcast – our first overcast day since arriving. We drive from Polperro to Penzance, another tourist mecca, down narrow high hedge-rowed lanes, trees arching overhead, ferns sprouting from the hedgerows. Once in Penzance, we find Tourist Information, and they find us a B&B overlooking Mount St. Michael. Not the best B&B, but two beds (very comfy) and a shower en-suite (important!)

The toilet in our bathroom is amazing: you flush, and it sounds much like a steam engine coming to boil … then it’s a bang and a BANG BANG BANG CLATTER CLATTERCLATTERCLATTER!! Incredible. The noise seems to go on for ages. And the tap over the sink also startles you out of your wits when you turn it on, causing another major BANG from the toilet.

From the sublime to the ridiculous! Actually, it’s funny as hell. We couldn’t help laughing because it’s so uniquely LOUD.

The ferry from Marazion to St Michael’s Mount

Anyway, we leave the luggage and drive into Marazion, park and take the ferry to St. Michael’s Mount. Filled with history, beautiful and eerie. We walk uphill to the top of the mount, and tour the castle and the grounds. The “docents” in the castle (for want of a better word) are very charming and knowledgeable. One old gentleman, in talking about Lord and Lady Leven, impressed on us how delightful Lady Leven was (she had died unexpectedly at age 69). “Yes, madam always said ‘good morning’ and ‘isn’t it a lovely morning?’ when she came across us.”

The road up to the castle

After exploring, we walk back down the (very very steep) hill to the causeway. By now, the tide is out and we are able to actually walk back to the mainland (Diane loved this!)

The tide is out, enabling us to walk the causeway back to the mainland

Then it’s back to our odd little B&B. After some discussion, we decide to drive to Land’s End (at 5PM) for a quick 1-2 hour hike across the cliffs there. On reaching Land’s End, we quickly park and walk through the tourist excrescence fronting the cliffs. There are only one or two couples around, and it is very quiet and dim, heavy clouds scudding across the sky.

Dusk at Land’s End

We walk across the slowly eroding cliffs for about 1-1/2 hours as the twilight deepens, and the wind blows, making it all very mysterious and atmospheric.

Hiking at Land’s End

We then drive back 12 miles to Marazion, leaving our car at the B&B, and walking to the King’s Arms for dinner (which takes 2 hours arriving!). Then it’s back to our B&B and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, Lacock and Castle Combe!

Lacock’s main street

Lacock – at the Sign of the Angel – and Castle Combe 

We are up and out of the B&B in Marazion by 9, after a hearty breakfast (surprisingly good.) Then it’s driving, driving and more driving. We drive through Glastonbury, but do not stop. This is not an attractive town! And this is twice I have visited areas fabled as the birthplace/resting place of King Arthur, and twice have been disappointed! The first was Tintagel, now it’s Glastonbury…maybe it’s me. Nonetheless, we have driven through beautiful country, and we are now in Wiltshire, and are just coming into Lacock, around 5PM. This is where “Pride and Prejudice” was filmed (is there any other Mr. Darcy than Colin Firth?)

The Sign of the Angel in Lacock

What a beautiful charming little town! It’s fifteenth century, and owned by the National Trust. We are lucky enough to get two rooms in The Sign of the Angel, where we duck down through the doors, and the floors all slope downward. The rooms are enchanting, and as no twin bedded-room is available we opt to have our own room each. Both are en-suite, with big bathtubs to wallow in, which we did! My room is painted deep pink, with burgundy carpet, white iron queen sized bed, feather pillows and bolsters, old antique furniture – and somewhere, there is a resident ghost! It said so on the little marquee in the old hallway.

The George pub and inn in Lacock

This afternoon, the sun is back out and after wandering around the town (which takes about 5 minutes), Diane and I buy English newspapers and take them to the adorable little pub, The George. The door is open wide and inside it is everything a pub should be – and more. I order a cuppa, and Diane an apple cider, and we sit in a corner and I read the Guardian – so very civilized and literary as we are. I love this place.

The small restaurant at Sign of the Angel

Next is dinner. Downstairs is the Angel’s unbelievably charming dining room – the food is fabulous – salads, baked goat cheese on toasted olive bread, wonderful veggies, crusty rolls and deep yellow butter. (I have eaten far more on this trip than I would ever eat at home – I hope! But then – we are hiking.)

After dinner, Diane and I walk down the tiny lamplit streets under a clear black velvet night sky full of stars (I am sure she wishes Robert were there instead of just me…)

Lacock’s charming houses

The windows in several houses are uncurtained and we are able to look into the glowing small yellow-lit living rooms and dining rooms of these ancient homes built in the time of Shakespeare.

And now I am all packed for the drive back to Gatwick tomorrow, (after we see Castle Combe) and sitting up against my feather bolsters finishing my journal (more or less.) I have seen and done much – Diane has really pushed me to do more than I even conceived of– and I am so grateful. It has been really wonderful, and I’ve learned so much about England. It is good to know there are still the ancient towns, the footpaths (all 1,500 of them) and back roads, the hedgerows, stiles and kissing gates on this jolly old island.

Castle Combe

Up early to breakfast downstairs… We have porridge with brown sugar and cream! I think I’ve died and gone to heaven (there’s the sign, you see.) We are also offered fresh raspberries, strawberries, blackberries and a hot breakfast.

It is a misty morning as we leave Lacock for Castle Combe. We take a wrong turn somewhere, but manage to eventually find the road, passing through towns called Tiddleywinks and Shepton Mallet, to yet another entrancing small village. We park in the car park, and walk down a steep hill right into Jane Austen country.

An early morning walk in Castle Combe

Beautiful (for want of a better word) tiny stone and brick homes and shops framed in ivy, or flowering or berried vines. We wander about the town in a happy daze, then begin our hike through the surrounding countryside. Beginning in misty dim morning weather, the sun eventually breaks through the mist, and the day clears as we walk in quiet woods where beech leaves dropping to the ground sound like the patter of tiny feet following us.

A walk around Castle Combe

Across fields and climbing over stiles and gates and crossing streams, we manage to again get lost! We finally find the main road behind a farm, and wind up at Castle Combe, where we stop at a most adorable little pub for a quick drink. Then we ramble around a delightful tiny shop that has the most perfect things: pictures, objets, pottery, photography — all so beautiful, you want to buy out the shop. I didn’t (surprise!) but Diane makes some inroads…

Lunch at the Castle Inn Hotel – more cheese

Then it is back to our lovely elegant pub for a quick lunch. We sit outside in the sunshine, watching as about 30 Japanese wander into town. Moments later, about 15 bikers zoom in and park in the square. Even here, time doesn’t stand still….

And as it moves on,  we must start thinking of getting on our way. We walk back up the hill to the car park, the sun by now shining so brilliantly, it is intensely hot. And then it’s on the road to our hotel at Gatwick, a quick bath and dinner, and so to bed. We must be up at 7AM to catch the hotel bus to the airport by 9AM. We have seen so many beautiful, traditional, wonderful sights on this trip — been transported back to a quieter, cozier and less frenetic time…

People tell me old England, the backroads and coastal towns, are disappearing or changing beyond recognition. Maybe so…but not for me. On this hike, England was everything – and more – that I hoped it would be. I love England…I always will.

Scotland Aye – hiking the Highlands and Islands

I arrive at Gatwick, and remembering my earlier vow to never drive in London again, I catch a taxi to The Green Park Hotel in Mayfair, arriving about 7:30 AM. No room is yet available, so my taxi driver takes me on a quick tour of London. We drive ’round St. John’s Wood (disappointing), Notting Hill (adorable), BuckinghamPalace, Regent’s Park (glorious), Hyde Park, and various other points of interest…many of which I have seen before, but love seeing again.

I am dressed in woolly tights and sweater, with a cashmere pullover tied around my waist…and I am melting. It is 80 degrees outside – soon to become even warmer! (Why didn’t I check the weather here before I left!) Everyone is in shorts and sleeveless dresses – except for me. No matter: the sun is shining -it’s glorious weather! London is in the middle of an unprecedented heat wave.

Around 10AM, it’s back to the appealing small hotel located on Half Moon Street (love that name) in Mayfair. The room is still not ready. I enter their (again charming) sitting room and read and wait, read and wait til I think my eyes will fall out – or in. Finally, I stagger to the front desk. “Is there a room – any room – available YET?!” A card key is handed over: “Room 224.” (A note on card keys: why do I have so much trouble with these things? And what is wrong with a key?!)

London townhouses

Calling Judy to let her know I’ve finally arrived, I crash for five-six hours – the minute my head hits the pillow, I am out like the proverbial light, waking up only when I hear the door opening and her “my god…she’s still asleep!”

Out for a quick walk around the little streets, so evocative of London. One small street dead-ends into a couple of pubs or restaurants, and everywhere crowds of young professionals are drinking and enjoying the night air. This heat wave is unprecedented.

Returning to the hotel, we eat dinner, talk a mile a minute, then fall asleep. Initially out like a light again, I wake in the wee hours to the sound of trucks – large and small – zooming down the lane ALL NIGHT- and the crash and tinkle of breaking glass as the recyclers pick up the recycle bins (reminds me of New York). Not a peaceful night.

Invernesse

Up at 9AM, Judy and I call for Room Service, eat a quick breakfast and take a cab to her son’s townhouse – four stories of delightful house in a mews around the corner from Buckingham Palace. It is light and airy (the townhouse, not BuckinghamPalace) and from the top floor can be seen endless views of the chimney pots of London. The kitchen/dining room looks out onto a small walled ivy-covered terrace, and from there across the road to the park – I believe we’ve landed in a chapter of Mary Poppins!

Everyone is delightful and delighted to see us – but we only have time to stay a brief while, pick up a couple of things at the shops, then take a taxi to Gatwick airport -at a cost of one hundred pounds, no kidding! So far, I have spent 200 pounds of the 500 I brought and 160 pounds of it have been taxi fares!

The River Ness in Invernesse

Onward to Invernesse. From brilliant sunshine and weather so balmy we might well be in the Bahamas – to Invernesse: cold, drizzling and misty – very Scottish indeed. We walk along the River Ness (not too far away from the Loch – which, when we asked our – yet another – taxi driver if anyone still sees the Loch Ness Monster, replies: ‘I don’t think it’s a monster, but I think there’s SOMETHING there.’ Eerie!)

A street in Invernesse alongside the River Ness

Finally, slightly chilled and pretty damp, we end up in our hotel’s pub, quaffing ale and Scotch, and having a nice chat with a couple at the bar who happen to be from Pennsylvania, are photographers, and had just spent two weeks on a very wet and windy Isle of Skye!

Dinner – repacking – and so to bed.

Loch Broom and Ullapool

No sleep, as usual, but I’m sure it’s all related to stress and jet lag. Breakfast of muesli and coffee, and packing in time to meet our group at 10AM. Outside – it is glorious weather! Verrry nice, after the drizzle and drear of Saturday afternoon and night. White clouds scud across a blue, blue sky.

We meet Tom, Bob, Jennifer, Kent and Gail, Roger, Lew and Susan here, and we all climb into the van and drive through beautiful countryside – up hilly, twisted roads – making me a trifle seasick! Bob – one of our guides – pulls over to the side of the road at a “wishing well” where all sorts of pieces of filthy and ragged cloth are tied to trees and stumps. It is traditional to tie or drop a personal item here (I offer a mint) and make a wish. I wish for continuing great weather!

The Ceilidh Inn in Ullapool

We arrive at the Ceilidh Inn in Ullapool, drop off our luggage, and hike to Loch Broom, entrancing and smelling heavenly. Our hike takes us down to a pebbled rock beach across gorse and heather, through tussocky boggy grass, and finally to the top of a small tor overlooking the loch.

Hiking around Loch Broom

The sun is shining and all is merry and bright. On returning, Roger and I promptly go for a walk up a meandering footpath bordered by blackberry bushes (unripe), fern, celandines, daisies and other small shrubs of varying descriptions…very English (although I wouldn’t say this to a Scot.)

Our first hike in Ullapool countryside

After this short excursion, we wander back to the hotel, in time to prepare for cocktails, and then dinner. Dinner is: cauliflower soup, lentils with mushrooms, and fruit salad – so healthy!

Afterward, Brian gives a brief talk on what to expect on our hikes, and Tom speaks of the early history of the Highlands. Bob, our third guide, has lulled himself to sleep, and is snoring gently in a corner, so we miss his part of the program!

After all this activity, I am ready for bed – but it certainly isn’t ready for me! Sleep I can not – possibly because I am cold and overtired. Naturally I drift off a short while before I am due to get up.

The Bone Caves and the Highlands

By 7:30AM, we have had breakfast, and are off to the Museum to view a brief film on Scotland. Then it’s on to the hike. The day is not quite as crystal clear – rain is forecast -but the sun is shining. We pick up our picnic sandwiches at the front desk, and are now ready for a full day out in the Highlands of Scotland…

Our group at the Bone Caves

The first stretch takes us up a steep and winding hill to the Bone Caves, where we shelter from the wind and have some refreshment (water). We are told that the oldest inhabitants of Scotland come from here, (at least, their bones were found here.) I think we are in an area called Inchnadampf. After this, most of the group opts to ramble back down the hill at this point, and eat lunch on their way back to the van.

Some of the best, freshest and chilliest water in the world

Five of us – all women – choose the “long walk.” This hike is indeed a toughie – challenging and quite grueling. We begin by hiking up an 1100 foot hill - not too high, but since there is no trail, we climb over rabbit holes, heather, tussocky bundles of grass and boggy ground – straight up – and all designed to turn our ankles at the drop of a stick. (This is where really good hiking boots, covering the ankle, are a must, she said knowingly.) We are all breathing quite heavily by the time we reach the top – but more to come!

The top of this mountain leads to yet another, and up and up we go. Finally, atop a crest surrounded by the spectacular views of mountains and gorges – we sit for lunch.

We are hot to begin with, but the wind is blowing and the sun begins sailing in and out of clouds; and pretty soon it is really cold! Quickly finishing our lunch and taking a private moment, we are soon back on our merry way over the mountains.

One of many streams throughout the Highlands

The trail-less ground becomes more and more treacherous – as well as boggier and boggier. Streams cross our path, across which we leap from stone to stone, or boulder to boulder, or inch across tiny wooden bridges - all slippery and wobbly. All in all, challenging! (Note here: there are no trees in the Highlands…at least, not anywhere we are….but lots of ferns and scrub.) By the time we find the downward trail, we have been hiking for about 6-1/2 hours – approximately 10 miles.

The sun comes and goes – at one point, it begins raining – I am hot – take off jacket – I am wet – put on raincoat – rain stops – I get hot – take off raincoat – rain pelts down – ram on raincoat!

An enchanting castle ruin at the end of the day’s hike

We finally get to the van and pile in. Tom, our guide, drives us to a beautiful little ruin of a castle on the way back to Ullapool, where we disembark to take photographs.

The castle ruin – an enchanted spot

Susan, Jennifer, Tom and I ramble over to the castle -again, hopscotching across two streams to get to the island on which it sits. The grass surrounding it has been cropped over time by sheep, and is like green velvet – the sky has cleared to a deep cerulean blue, and all is quiet and at peace. Beautiful. One of many perfect moments.

Rambling around this beautiful tiny castle ruin

Then back in the van, and back to the Inn – dinner- hot water bottle – and bed!

Loch Torridon

Loch Torridon Country House Hotel

On the go at 9AM – another beautiful day begins as we pile into our respective vans for the hour or so trip to Loch Torridon Country House Hotel – an absolutely enchanting hunting lodge-turned-hotel. It is like something from a Sir Walter Scott novel. I instantly fall in love.

Today we have the option of a short or a long walk, and several of us opt for the long. It starts gently enough as we begin our climb over endless hills and dales – although I do manage to fall in the first major stream I come to, slipping on one of those dratted boulders!

The bothy

After a couple of hours or so, we come to a “bothy” – a small empty hut in the middle of the hills where we unload our gear and have lunch. It is charming. The sun is shining – and though it is cool, the air is as clear and fresh, and we have plenty of time for pictures.

Rosemary, Judy, Gail and Kent in front of the bothy

After the “bothy,” we must decide whether to continue or turn back. Several of us decide to continue. What a hike: we seem to be taking part in a marathon! After hiking miles across mountains, we circle back. Here Tom says: the track from here is straightforward, so meander all you want…

Ha! I am the only one who “meanders” – and find myself surrounded by panoramic hills with no-one in sight and several tracks to choose from! I have a moment of extreme panic, until, finally, the top of Tom’s head emerges like the sun over the horizon, and I jog-trot to catch up.

From here it is downhill. We hit the trail, which is totally rocky and stony – galloping at a pace that seems destined to turn one’s ankle – are we trying to catch a train?! No time for scenic views – all we can do is watch our feet! I am exhausted when we roll in around 5 o’clock.

A shower, a moment’s rest, and then we are in to dinner.

This is a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful hotel! I adore it. Our room is large and well-appointed, comfortable and elegant. The bathroom is huge and we can look from its windows out onto immaculate green lawns edged with colorful flowers, on into the paddock where the cows are grazing.

Loch Torridon cattle graze in the hotel’s paddock

Outdoors is even more spectacular. Besides the sculptured grounds, all is green…green, green grass, surrounded by woods, mountains, and the silvery-gray, entrancing loch. Loch Torridon is a beautiful, enchanting place – my favorite of the trip.

Loch Torridon and a Gentle Walk

The “back yard” – Loch Torridon Hotel

Wake up, get outta bed, drag a comb across my head…zooming around as usual, in to breakfast – I love my breakfast! Mueslix, scrambled eggs and bacon – the usual stuff but tastes great and is needed for energy.

Again, we have the option: long or short walk. This time, I choose the short. What the heck…do I think I’m Tenzing Norgay here?

On our short walk

Hoisting up our backpacks, we pick up our picnic lunch, and are off. Susan and Jennifer take the long walk with Brian and Bob. The rest of us opt for the lower ground.

The sky is blue, the air is crisp. Our walk begins up a winding footpath through glorious woods, to open stretches of boggy fields in which sheep and cows graze or placidly sleep. Pheasants run through the underbrush – it is absolutely idyllic, one of our most beautiful and peaceful days.

A brief break on the short walk

After stopping for a drink and snack, several of us walk on for a mile or so, coming to an old stone bridge crossing a gurgling stream, eating our picnic lunch in the shade of the willow trees (and it is really nice to see trees). The sky is the bluest it has been since arriving inScotland. Not a sound breaks the stillness, except for the song of the brook. Heaven.

Lunch break

This is one of the amazing things in this land: the absolute silence of the Highlands, but for the water. It’s completely satisfying. No birds sing – there seem to be few or no birds! But the sound of rushing water is everywhere… wherever you turn are waterfalls, lochs and streams or seas – gushing, gurgling, roaring, rushing, babbling or splashing – a country seemingly circumscribed by water.

Here a cow, there a cow…

We walk back over gently rolling paths, through green woods scented with pine to our hotel (approximately seven miles round trip.)

The grounds of Loch Torridon Hotel – I never wanted to leave

Susan, Jennifer, Brian and Bob, who’d taken the optional hike, finally make it back around six that evening. Their walk sounds intense – 15 miles up and around a mountain, often plunging into boggy swamp to their knees, descending down sheer granite on the other side, according to Susan. The winds were so tempestuous, they needed to grip the cliff face to avoid being blown off the ledge. Part of the trip down is spent on all fours! They found it all exhilarating! I would’ve liked to say I did it, but I didn’t – and the “short walk” was so lovely, I’m glad I didn’t miss it.

The Isle of Skye and the Lighthouse

We are up and packed by 9AM, have a quick breakfast and are into the van heading for the storied Isle of Skye. The drive is so quiet and peaceful… gloriously beautiful …how I love the Highlands.

Two hours later, we pile out of the vans in Kyle of Lockalsh for our only real shopping opportunity, which was great fun…then we drive over the bridge to Skye, paying an enormous toll to do so. No more “speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing…”

Our inn on the Isle of Skye

Our tiny littleInn on Skye is delightful (what else is new?!) Our tiny room has Laura Ashley pink and green chintz hangings, and a big burl wardrobe holds our clothes. All the tea things are here.

Beginning our first hike on Skye

Dropping off our luggage, weare driven to the base of the cliff to begin our hike. The weather has changed drastically – it is grey and raining steadily. Raingear is hurriedly pulled from backpacks, and we hike through the driving rain to the sea. Here’s how it went.

Hiking on the Isle of Skye

First, up a very stony and rocky trail, up and up…then down a steep, steep bank through sludge and over slippery rock, then down the hillside where we slither and slip over rocks and heather. We make our way through many streams to boulders and small cliffs down which we clamber to the waiting shore.

Swimming with the seals

It is still raining steadily, and it is cold. Nonetheless, Jennifer, Brian, Tom and Bob don bathing suits and plunge into the grey sea for a swim! Jennifer wants to “swim with the seals,” which are cavorting and diving a safe distance from these crazy people who keep trying to take their picture.

To the Lighthouse

To the Lighthouse

Then again comes the option: continue to the lighthouse or turn back. The sane amongst us choose to turn back. I was one of the few who opt to go on! By this time, I – and everyone else – am soaked to the skin. We clamber over some of the most treacherous countryside imaginable – down slippery rain-soaked rocks, slimy with lichen – plunging into boggy grass – going down, ever down – and finally coming to a green grassy sward and promontory – at the end of which is – the lighthouse! Challenging, but exhilarating at the same time!

The lighthouse overlooks a grey and stormy sea … we are at the end of the world. The sky is grey, the grass green, the lighthouse, white. The seagulls are an eerie note, rimming the lighthouse and the rocks below and cawing non-stop. Photographs are taken through soft  mist.

Are we happy yet? Yes!

After which, it starts raining steadily and strongly. We take a different course back to the van, scrambling up through rocky watercourses, again plunging into mud and mire, slipping down and up rain-slick rocks and boulders…unbelievable. I keep asking myself: why am I doing this? But I know the answer.

Three hours later we arrive at the van. I am completely soaked. My boots have sunk ankle deep into the mud; my backpack – and all in it, including my money and passport – ditto. My pants are hanging from my body like clown pants; my hair is in rattails. The joy of the hike!

Back at the hotel, Judy corroborates this statement, also mentioning a drowned rat. She makes me a cup of hot tea, and draws a hot bath – bliss!!

Then I dry off, have dinner, and get back fairly early to bed. Really tired tonight – no problem sleeping at all.

One tiny little glitch in this lovely place: hot water is NOT in abundance. Apparently, in getting a deep, hot bath, and washing my hair…I used up almost all the hot water on our side of the Inn! I never told anyone, but one of the other hikers mentioned having to bathe in icy water…couldn’t understand why there was no hot! I kept mum on the subject.

The isle of Skye and the Back of Beyond

This is our last full day on theIsle of Skye. We arise as usual at7AM, eat a good breakfast and pile in the vans for an hour’s ride to the boat we are to take to an uninhabited part of Skye.

On the road to the ferry, Isle of Skye

Susan, Linda, Jennifer and I share the van with Brian and Tom – it is nice to be able to stretch out. About halfway to the boat – down narrow roads and high lanes banded by greenery starred with flowers – we are halted by a road paving crew blocking the path. We take the opportunity to get out and hike to the boat, about half an hour’s walk. The weather by this time has turned crisp and sunny again, and the walk and the views are wonderful.

A windy, blustery day, as we walk to the ferry

Eventually our guides are able to drive the vans through the roadblock and catch up with us. We all pile onto the ferry, where we immediately don our raingear as it has become chilly and damp over the grey, icy water. The ferry is large and carries a full load of people; it takes quite a while to reach the other side as we are taken to look at the seals resting on the rocky outcrops in the water. It is fascinating to see them – and they look at us with what seems to be equal fascination.

The start of the hike

On arrival, we hike up the mountainside. The weather has grown even chillier and more overcast – and the wind is whistling around our ears. We end up on a flat granite rock atop a hillside -our hoods up, raingear tied up to the chin. Here we picnic, on what feels like the edge of the world! Although cold, misty, windy and wild – you can’t help but be exhilarated… Let the thunder roll!

A quick break for lunch on the final Skye hike

Everyone is taking photographs, but despite the back-of-beyond feeling, we do not linger long. Another option of a long or short walk is offered on the way back to the ferry. A couple of us actually think it over, but in the end, common sense prevails and we all opt to return to the boat, in the hopes of maybe getting in a little shopping – sounding more appealing by the minute!

Susan points the way – unfortunately the wrong way!

We dock about 3:30PM, but again are stymied by the same road-paving-crew when we attempt to drive back. After a 45 minute wait, during which we try to complete a crossword in a Scottish newspaper (we are unable to understand a single clue – the puzzle is totally cryptic) we are finally on the move.

By the time we get to the first tiny town with a few shops, it is closing time. However, Susan manages to purchase a handknit sweater which is so thick, it can stand alone. It is very pleasant to ramble around for a bit, just looking and shopping and taking in the sights and talking to people who live and work here.

Scottish Bob, one of our terrific guides

By the end of this day, we are all extremely tired. After dinner, all gather in the chintz-splashed parlor in front of a roaring fire, to listen to Annie, a local Gaelic singer. The plaintive and poignant melodies and words of the folk songs underscore the melancholy beauty of Skye.

The romantic, legendaryIsle of Skye has always been a dream journey for me. The legend of Prince Charlie, sailing over the sea to Skye, is an old folk song that was sung by my mother when I was very young. I’ve never forgotten it.

Skye fulfills all expectations. It is so very, very green and unspoiled, and relatively uninhabited. Tiny white houses dot the landscape. Sheep are everywhere, rambling across hills and roads, unfenced and free. Our small inn is right on the water, and is charming, vines and roses clambering across walls and doors. We are surrounded by the loch on one side, mountains and hills and quiet land on other sides. It is delightful – isolated and remote – and beautiful.

The Highlands are the same. They are green (or black, depending on which mountains you’re looking at), desolate, forbidding, ancient and timeless. No-one seems to live in the Highlands. The only sound you hear is that of water – waterfalls, streams, rills and lochs are everywhere – the rush and gurgle and song of water never stops. And all that you see are the endless peaks and valleys with hardly a tree in sight. In the Highlands on a beautiful day, you are totally at one with nature; it is a spiritual experience to be alone here.

Hiking the Highlands

If the weather turns bad, however, the desolation and isolation become omnipresent. It often seems you are either born in the Highlands and they are in your blood; or you cannot live there for long and survive. And if you’re of the city, then eventually the silence and isolation can become overwhelming. Those are my thoughts, anyway!

Eileen Donnan

Susan and I had planned the night before to get up at the crack of dawn and go for an hour’s walk before we are due to leave Skye. At6:30 AM I crawl out of bed, get dressed and meet her outside. It is a lovely morning – hard to believe, as the worst gale to hit Scotland in 30 years is forecast! We walk down the quiet country lanes, enjoying the peace and circling the Inn- an altogether enjoyable ramble, getting back in time for a quick breakfast and then it’s into the vans.

A short detour to a castle ruin high on a hill, and we’re scrambling over tussocky grass and pebbly streams and up a short rise to a very, very narrow ledge – where we each cling to the stones and edge slowly across – or fall to boulders below! Once atop this hill, Brian reads us some tales of Scotland, and has us act them out. For some reason, we also line up in a row, each of us sitting on the knees of the person behind us, pretending to be rowing a Viking ship – don’t ask me why!

Then we inch back across the ledge – and drive to the most famous castle inScotlandfor a brief tour – the Eileen Donnan. Its walls are 14 feet thick, and it was first built in the twelfth or thirteenth century, but burned in the 1700s. It was fully restored between 1912­-1932. History emanates from the walls.

And then it is on to Invernesse, London and back to reality. The Highlands of Scotland –a little uncanny, magical, poignant – but not for the faint of heart.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.