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Monthly Archives: July 2020

Hiking in Norway – green mountains, silver fjords

Standing on a Bergen street

Bergen

A suggestion from Diane – a friend I met on a group hike in the Cinque Terra – that we try a group hike in Norway sounded appealing, as it is currently hot hot hot in Houston!

So…I arrived in Bergen after switching planes in Amsterdam, and took a taxi to the Hotel Neptun. The taxi driver, a surly sort, leaned from the cab to spit every few miles, which of course, placed him high on my list of attractions. Diane was waiting at the hotel with a bowl of fresh raspberries…how great it was to see her after our brief meeting at Martha’s Vineyard! After planting the luggage, we walked into town for a light supper, and caught up on the news. Then to bed to try to get some sleep, so we will be fresh for the group tomorrow.

The Fishmarket of Bergen and the Funicular

We finally got to sleep after surviving a heat wave in the hotel room, and the screeching of traffic until the wee hours outside our third story window. Even with the window open wide, it was almost unbearably hot…in the 90s, not exactly what I expected! By 3:30 we finally dropped off, and woke up about 9AM for breakfast.

Bergen’s main street

After breakfast, we rambled over to Bergen’s fishmarket…just down the road and on the edge of the fjord, where fishing boats, cruise ships and ferries all dock. The open-air market had it all, including whale steaks (black!), t-shirts, an immense variety of wonderful fresh fruit (more raspberries and cherries), postcards, sweaters, cheese…and much more.

Next on our list was a restored area of Bergen: old wooden buildings, once housing traders, now are home to shops and boutiques. A variety of beautiful things was on display: wonderful pottery, ceramics, lace, antiques… The flower gardens glowed with roses, daisies, dripped with honeysuckle, while the homes were quite austere architecturally, constructed of wooden slats, many covered with concrete and painted bright light colors. These homes, we were told, are vulnerable to fire, and Bergen has suffered through many conflagrations in its past.

View from top of funicular down to Bergen

At 2PM, we joined the rest of the merry band (three couples and our guide Beate) back at the hotel. Again we walked through the market and town, then rode the funicular to the top of the mountain. We spent a little time looking over the remarkable view, then hiked back down the mountain through lovely ferny woods and huge oak and birch trees – beautiful!

After showering and changing for dinner, we listened to a brief talk by Beate about the history of Norway, ate, and then it was back to our rooms to pack for Sunday’s hike – a 15-mile day to look forward to! And so to bed!

From Myrrdahl to Flam

Up at 6:30 as we needed to be on the road by a quarter to eight. With little time to spare, we washed our hair, packed our luggage, carried it downstairs, grabbed a bowl of cereal, then it was on through Bergen to catch the train to Myrrdahl. Arriving at the station, we took various detours through other trains, in one side and out the other, finally finding “our” train only to discover it had engine trouble. Many solemn announcements later, in three languages, the train finally got rolling.

The splashing and rushing of the waters throughout the land

We disembarked at Myrrdal two hours later for the 15-mile hike to Flam and beyond. What an incredible hike…through beautiful valleys striped with waterfalls, rivers, and silver streams which descended from mountaintops, or rushed pell-mell over boulders and rocks. The water was bell-clear; Diane has named the color Norge Blue. This is the land of 1000 waterfalls; water is everywhere, and forests of birch and pine coated the mountainsides.

On our 15 mile hike to Flam

We hiked in a slight mizzle – the sun never fully appeared, which is the Norwegian way, according to Petter, Beate’s son and our second guide.

Initially, the trail wasn’t difficult: it began as a flat, grassy track through rolling fields. Soon, however, the long grass hid stones and small boulders – and I fell three times on these very slippery rocks. It was like walking on ice up and downhill…and crossing streams is not one of my best jobs! But the treacherous undergrowth finally petered out, and we continued on grassy trails through beautiful wilderland. A goat farm, then tiny buildings appeared out of nowhere. Some buildings were smoking sheds, with roofs of long grass turves, saplings growing from them.

A “smoking shed”

Wild raspberries bordered the trail, and we ate them with relish. Divine!

Stopping several times for breaks and snacks, our final break was a “troll bowl” – a hollowed-out cave with an open top, and a large stone slab for a table. Loved it! Trolls are part of this country’s folklore – old as the mountains.

Ro with friend – troll images are everywhere!

In Bergen, many shops have carved trolls standing watch in their doorways.

The final leg of the hike was on asphalt through rolling beautiful country (a little rough on the toes.) When we finally felt as if we could walk no longer (and we’ve made very good time) we saw our hotel, which was lovely – part new, part old. From the balcony of our room, we saw goats grazing in fields bordered by wild fern-splashed country.

After a hot bath and the obligatory hair washing, we all convened in the bar for drinks. The view from the bar’s amazing floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window, was absolutely awe-inspiring: a silvery-golden fjord, stretching for miles and surrounded by mountains and lush forests of pine trees, backed by the setting sun – absolutely glorious.

Then, a light dinner. It was a challenging, tiring day and so by 10PM, we said goodnight, packed our luggage, and it was off to bed! Tomorrow should be a little easier, but soon comes the glacier hike!

From Flam to Balestrand

A late morning: we don’t need to be downstairs until 10AM. Heaven! We slept until 7:30, showered, ate breakfast, and popped the rest of our things into the luggage, which will be taken to our next stop. Pulling on our backpacks, we began the hike – up, up, up to a small settlement on the mountainside – buildings built centuries ago which are now part of a farm.

Our hike started on the other side of the mountain to the farm

The wooden buildings were tiny, almost miniature in size. All had pots of red geraniums in the windows, and the interiors were set up as museums, with old instruments, stoves, sinks, beds, all as used in days gone by. We saw how cheese used to be made – a nine-hour process. If more milk was produced than necessary for one batch, another batch had to be started immediately making an 18-hour day for some poor woman.

Taking a water break at the museum and farm

After the museum and farm, we continued our hike through the woods towards the ferry. Beate calls this a “tricky” hike. The trail was extremely narrow, with a sharp drop on our left, and the mountain rising sheer to our right. Sometimes the hiking turned into rock climbing! The mist and off-and-on mizzle made the mossy rocks extremely slippery, so we had to be very careful where we put our feet. But the views of the fjord, and the beauty of the forest (that lovely green smell) through which we were hiking made it all worthwhile.

The scent of the pines, the green ferns, the moss that covers the rocks and boulders, and below us, the silver-gray fjord, like a living mirror of the sky: all was so beautiful, so pristine. Just breathing in the air purified lungs and mind. Many flowers showed tiny heads along the track: Ling, a heather-like bush with tiny, tiny purple bells; buttercups and celandines; and an occasional violet, poking its head through the grass. But the surroundings were mostly green, green, green – from the forest floor to the treetops.

It never rains in Norway – it just mizzles. The air is always moist, and mist often hangs low over the mountains. The sky was bright white, and the longer we hiked, the hotter we became.

On one of the ferries – it’s like driving a car in the States!

We emerged from the forest on the road at the ferry, which I just managed to get on by the skin of my teeth (the gangplank started to rise as I set foot upon it.) An hour’s ride through the fjord to Balestrand – and there was the beautiful gingerbread hotel on the water, surrounded by the loveliest little town: small colorful Norwegian houses, all painted in pastels and alive with flowers in gardens and pots. Red geraniums abounded, as did vivid hollyhocks, some tall as houses, and purple-black in color. Marigolds, roses, daisies – all in full, riotous bloom. Diane and I walked around the town drinking in the beauty of it all.

Our luggage was late, so we had an anxious two hours waiting for it to turn up. Finally, in it came and we were finally able to clean up for dinner. The smorgasbord offered a truly astounding buffet, with more food than an army could eat in a week. All sorts of seafood, including the whale steaks, as well as caviar, chicken, capon, turkey, a table full of cheeses, fabulous breads, a hot buffet table with roast beef, fish and veggies, a dessert bar with ten different desserts – I’ve never seen so much food!

After we ate, three of us attended a concert given by Age Kristofferson, a Carnegie Hall pianist who played eleven brief Edvard Grieg compositions. It was absolutely delightful; he told short stories to accompany each song, some of which were funny, all of which were interesting. The concert was held in a small hall within the hotel. A Japanese man recorded Kristofferson’s playing, and although asked to stop by the artist, he wouldn’t. I wanted to haul him out of the room!

Fjaerland

Fjaerland

Yes, up at 6:30 indeed! Breakfast at 7:15, then we had to finish packing and be ready to leave for the ferry by 8. An hour and a half later we reached Fjaerland. The day had become steadily mistier the further north we progressed. The mountains rose on either side of the fjord, green and majestic, covered with pine trees and wreathed in mist. Absolutely awe-inspiring and beautiful,  with silver waterfalls criss-crossing the slopes.

For the first time, the air was extremely chilly; I had to put a sweatshirt over my shirt, and top it with the rainjacket. (Note: this was the ONLY time it was chilly.)

Hotel Mundal

We disembarked from the ferry, and proceeded to haul our luggage to the Hotel Mundal – uphill! At least the hotel was not too far from the ferry! The hotel was run by Billie, an expat Englishwoman who, by marriage, had become part of the Mundal family and history <Note: Vice President Walter Mondale is connected to this family>. After dropping the luggage in the lobby, we immediately began our hike.

Fairly flat at first, the trail took us alongside a river – now rushing, now fairly quiet. No-one else was around – it was peaceful and beautiful and the overcast sky cooled the air and made for very pleasant walking. I had to divest myself of my sweatshirt, and soon after, the raincoat. Grass-green moss covered the stones and ground beneath the trees, in many places forming a broad mossy floor – very Hans Christian Anderson.

As we continued, the trail began to ascend. Soon we were climbing steadily up, over boulders and rocks and tree roots into the heart of the forest. The trail became steeper and steeper. We reached a small plateau where we dropped off our backpacks (very safely) before continuing the climb. It was tricky, the path narrowing to a wet, and in many places, rocky trail. The boulders were slick and a stone could easily turn an ankle. We stopped for a brief lunch of cheese and rolls and tomato, then on we went.

The river splashed merrily down from us, and the sky became lighter, when we finally halted at the foot of the mountain. Diane, Paul and I continued up to see the ice cave at the very top. What seemed a short jaunt at the beginning was in actuality quite a climb – and the smoothness of the grass, deceiving. Brambles, grass and briar covering stones and boulders – dangerous. Again we had to watch where we put our feet. Challenging, but worth it to get to the ice and snow, and pose atop the mountain in front of the ice cave (which was actually an ice bridge.)

In front of the ice cave

We felt as if we were on the roof of the world, with the rest of the group just pinpricks in the valley below.

After our photography session, we trotted back down the mountain like goats, joined the group and began the hike back to our hotel in Fjaerland. Not too bad going down: narrow trails, stony, mossy, and damp. The day was overcast.

And then a lovely thing happened: when we reached a leveling out of the trail, the sun broke through the clouds, the sky became a deep, clear blue, and the fields stretched before us, emerald green and literally glowing in the sunlight. And it was exactly like this the remainder of the trip. Beautiful.

The little tiny town of Fjaerland perched on the edge of the fjord and it was exquisite. A book town mirroring Hay-on-Wye in England, its tiny bookshops were everywhere, and bookcases actually lined the narrow roads. The Hotel Mundal, very old and historic, offers glorious back views onto lawns and fjord – peaceful and calming.

The view from our room at Hotel Mundal

Although our hike was only four hours, it was challenging, and we returned for a restful afternoon readying us for the hike tomorrow – 3000 feet up to the Flatbreen Glacier. Billie gave a short talk on the history of the 100-year old hotel, impressive! Much of the hotel is still the way it was “back in the old days” with marvelous old, old leather armchairs studded with nails, a fire glowing in the immense fireplace, and a great room set for dinner. So much history and tradition: it was wonderful. Tomorrow – Flatbreen!

The Flatbreen Glacier

We were up and out of Hotel Mundal by 10AM, taking a taxi to the base of the mountain where we were to climb to the Flatbreen (which means “glacier” in Norwegian…so actually appending “glacier” after Flatbreen is pretty unnecessary!)

The start of the Flatbreen glacier hike

The first 500 feet of the hike were straight up. It was very, very difficult for me: my lung capacity is not large, and I stopped every few yards, breathing deeply and drinking water. My heart was banging in my chest by the time I arrived at the top of this first stretch. Beate told me everyone has had trouble – including her! – but that from then on it would be easier – more streams and rivers to cross, more rock climbing.

Keep climbing up to Flatbreen

It was true: while just walking upwards was difficult for me, it was easier for to climb the rocks and boulders than just hike on a straightforward uphill path. As we climbed the mountain, we crossed streams over many and various bridges and boulders, the last bridge a wobbly couple of pieces of wood. Then began the major rock climb: I used all four limbs to get myself to the more traditional trail. In some instances, I was flat against the boulders while trying to get a purchase on the stone. Petter guided us across and up the more difficult parts of the track. Difficult – but incredibly exhilarating!

Every once in a while, I turned to look back at the spectacular valley views. Miles below us gleamed the fjord, and forests stretched as far as the eye could see across mountains and more mountains. Up, up, up and up we rose – 3000 feet to the top…approximately three miles up, given that we were winding our way around the mountain.

Suddenly, Petter stopped us and said: “Clear your mind.” He led us around a huge boulder and there was the glacier, icy blue and white, jagged and jutting to the sky in the brilliant sunshine –  immense! The Flatbreen is a “calving” glacier, because it drops chunks of ice at intervals. It was one of the most spectacular sights I’ve ever seen.

I make it to the Flatbreen – glorious glorious glorious

Sitting across from the glacier, we stopped for lunch at a small hut built of boulders and wood. The man who built this hut had made a thousand trips up and down the mountain with the needed supplies, according to Beate. It was said he climbed to the top in 40 minutes, a record to this day. We made it in about four hours.

Our happy group at the Flatbreen

After lunch, once a few hardy souls had returned from climbing the ridge on the morain, we began our hike back down the mountain. Down, down, down we clambered- often on our rear ends, as we were descending yet again over boulders similar to those on the way up (although this is a different trail.) This trail was as treacherous as the upward track, the earth so dry, it slid beneath our feet. And after a couple of hours, despite the thickness of my boot soles, my feet began to feel every stone beneath them!

A brief rest about midway down the mountain, where we sat on a grassy flat and just chatted idly for half an hour, and we were on our way. The sun was high in the sky, and the world smelled of trees.

Still on the hike upwards to the Flatbreen glacier

Down, down we climbed, through fern and birch woods, often hanging onto the trees for balance. Flowers starred the trail. The sun continued to shine, and it was a heavenly day. Our final climb over rocks and boulders in the river, led us to a final stony descent. All in all, the hike took about eight hours, and I was truly exhausted by the time I plonked myself in the taxi for the ride back to the hotel. And sweaty. And dirty. But what an adventure. All the more exhilarating because I’ll probably never be doing this climb again!

Fjaerland and the Glacier Museum

Up and out by 10AM. We were staying in Fjaerland for a few more hours, and decided to walk to the Glacier Museum, which has some interesting exhibits, including a walk-in “glacier” formed of plastic. It was very eerie to be inside and hear the water melting, the stones and ice cracking within …I had, and have, no desire to walk inside a real glacier!

The little wobbly bridge in Fjaerland

The visit to the museum was followed by a two-hour walk around the town, which included inching across a hanging – and rather wobbly – bridge, one at a time. Shera, Beate’s dog who accompanied us on this hike, was truly a picture as she crossed the bridge, legs splayed, eyes beseeching!

We returned to town, purchased lunch at a local grocery store and ate on the lawn behind our hotel, alongside the fjord. The sun was again brilliantly hot, and the sky was dotted with one or two icy white clouds. Idyllic. Diane and I sat on a bench on the lawn and read for an hour until the ferry arrived. I could stay here for the rest of the trip…

Our luggage was sitting in the hotel hall, waiting for us to drag it to the dock, which was not too far away. We caught the ferry back to the Kvikne Hotel in Balestrand. Diane and I stood on the prow, looking at some of the most glorious sights in the world…sometimes it’s almost too much, it hurts to look. Everywhere we turned, there is beauty.

The beauty of the fjords

We landed, dragged our suitcases uphill to the hotel (thank goodness for wheels), had approximately two hours to clean up, and headed down to dinner. Again, the wonderful smorgasbord had every kind of food we could wish for, but I was ready for bed. The next day, we had to be awake by 6AM, as a 12-14 hour day was ahead of us.

Vik and Finden

Up at 6AM, it was the beginning a long day. We were ready to catch the ferry for a ten-minute ride to our first hike, which started at 8. After a hearty breakfast of muesli, orange juice, and that great bread, we convened on the pier, ready to board the ferry. Ten short minutes later, we disembarked at Vik.

Vik

Our hike led us through Vik, a delightful little town on the water’s edge, full of small painted wooden houses and shops and galleries. From here, we hiked to the mountains, and a trail that is green, green, green – beautiful views on all sides of farmers’ fields, woods, ferns, and flowers -the fjord gleaming way down below. From the heights, we could see Vik as an illustration in a Grimm’s fairy tale, nestled in a valley bound by water and mountains.

One of our goals this day was to see a stave church, built with no nails but supported by tree trunks, or “staves” which are felled and left to dry and naturally resinate for eight years, and which are then used to build the church. This particular church was built in the 1100’s, and has its original staves. Special services are still held within.

Rambling all around the town (of Vik)

After a brief rest here, we rambled all over the mountain, returning down to Vik in the golden sunshine. So peaceful, it is as if all stress and responsibility fell away as we walked over the rolling countryside. All is heartbreakingly beautiful in the clear golden light.

When we reached Vik, we spent a couple of hours exploring, shopped for some supplies, and checked out the shops and the grocery store: I love foreign grocery stores and drugstores. It’s always so much fun to shop in them, checking out the different and unusual! Wandering the streets, I discovered the most delightful little group of homes, almost like dolls’ houses, painted in pale pastels and hidden from the eye behind storage buildings. The windows were lace curtained, with windowsills lined with pots of bright geraniums or daisies. The houses surrounded a small village green, the grass bright as emeralds in the sunshine. It was one of the most delightful parts of our delightful day here.

After eating our lunch at an outdoor table by the fjord, we rambled  for an hour or two, Diane buying a statuette of a “troll couple with tails.” Then we caught the ferry to Finden where walked to a goat farm for another “lunch.” We were met at the base of the mountain by the farm’s owner, who led us uphill to his historic home, built entirely of wood, and beautifully decorated. One side of the room was filled with a very long table, lit with candelabra, and lined with benches on either side, all of which he had built. The table was set with exquisite china, napkins, silverware and wine glasses. When we are seated, he brought out immense platters of grilled goat and vegetables: beans, potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, mushrooms, and gravy.  It was a wonderful meal – and I sure wish I could’ve done justice to it.

Benches front the house, on one of which reposed two adorable tiny black kittens – the sweetest little things – but they did not like Shera, Beate’s dog, who, however, was very patient, as always, and left them well alone after an initial bout of barking.

We took many photographs, then walked back down the mountain to the ferry, which took us up the fjord to another mountain trail. Ferns and high grass and trees surrounded our narrow track – and up, up, up we climbed. Presently the trail extremely difficult. Huge moss-covered boulders, steep, steep paths, grass covered – stones lined our way, slicked with moss and dew, and tricky. We hike forever up through wild raspberry, blackberry and blueberry bushes – the berries were delicious with that wild woodsy flavor.

The trail became steeper and steeper, and eventually one by one, we turned back to the boat.

I was drenched in perspiration by the time I made it back down. What an experience; I was climbing down alone, and kept hoping I wouldn’t miss the trail. Never was I so happy to see a ferry!

And so back to Vik, where a taxi was waiting to drive us back to Balestrand. Back earlier than expected, we actually had a couple of hours to clean up for dinner. Then it was time to pack for an early launch back to Bergen on Saturday.

Back to Bergen

Up at 6:15, we packed, zipped down to breakfast, then rolled our suitcases downhill to the landing by 7:45, where we boarded the ferry for a four-hour trip back to Bergen. Unlike prior trips, we all stayed downstairs, many of us sleeping. The morning started off cloudy, but ended sunny and hot.

My suitcases, which seemed relatively light at the beginning of the trip, now felt as if I was carrying two-ton weights within. It must be all the sweat and dirt packed on the socks and t-shirts!

In Bergen, we said goodbye to our small group, then Diane and I rolled our suitcases to the Admiral Hotel, overlooking the fjord, dropped off our luggage and rambled round for a final farewell. I always feel sad at the end of a hike such as this. You enter into another world….then, of course, you have to come back to the real one. Hard sometimes to make the transference.

Then it was back to the Admiral Hotel and my room, overlooking the fjord. However…noisy as all get out! If it’s not a ferry or catamaran revving up for an hour or two before actually leaving port, it was the mass of people making merry at the top of their lungs – or someone on a bullhorn talking about who knows what ad infinitum – this town is unbelievably noisy, busy and social! And I couldn’t close the windows because it is TOO HOT! But I survived – it was a great, great experience and adventure (oh, and now they’re setting off guns!)

Another observation: Some hotels, such as this one, do not put out soap, but rather have it in a wall dispenser in the shower. Not so good if you are sitting in the bathtub, and the soap is three feet above your head – it made for some slippery moments!

Finally: I never saw a homeless person nor a stray animal on any streets in Norway.

I will never forget the incredible beauty of this country…so much unspoiled loveliness, you just have to be thankful you’ve seen what the natural world has to offer.

Everyone and everything is friendly in Norway

England: Hiking through England’s Green and Pleasant Land

CORNWALL & THE COTSWOLDS

A Cornish house

On the way to Cornwall, the road over the moors

We arrived around 10AM at Gatwick and in a very short time, we’re on our way to Cornwall. The day was overcast and cloudy…cool but not cold. We drive the M3 until we get off on one of the “A” roads, taking us through Salisbury Plains, where we see Stonehenge in the distance, but don’t stop.

We stopped for a break at this lonely pub

A detour through Dartmoor allows us to see the green-spreading rolling moors and the sheep and wild ponies. At the top of Dartmoor, in the middle of nowhere, we stop at a little inn … if you’ve ever seen “An American Werewolf in London,” this will remind you of it, but without the creepy inhabitants. There is something absolutely fascinating about this kind of place…

A view over the moors

We made it to Polraen House (B&B) without incident. At some point, I discovered – after calling him “Gil” for about a day and a half – that our host’s name was actually Martin – and “Gill” – with whom I’ve been e-mailing – was actually his wife, pronounced Jill but spelled Gill. Ah well…

Polraen House where we stayed in Looe, Cornwall

We arrived just before 8PM…a long day on the road, and we were tired out. Leslie drove to the moors, I took over the drive from there…a bit tense getting used to the left hand side of the road all over again.

Anyway, once at Polraen, we were able to settle in! Polraen House is just outside Looe, on a hill, rather isolated, in beautiful country. The house is old – half was built in the 1750s/half in the 1850s. Unusual for a B&B, it has a comfy little pub and a pretty dining room. Martin is a hoot – so funny, and very welcoming – he met us at the front door on our arrival.

The façade of the house is Cornish stone; flower baskets hang on the grey stone walls. It’s totally Cornwall, and utterly charming. We tidied up and immediately went downstairs for one of the yummiest dinners ever – Martin is an amazing chef. Leslie and I had spinach frittatas, Elisa had a salmon “starter” and an absolutely incredible little steak. For dessert, I had fruit and clotted cream and Elisa and Leslie, apple crumble with cream – Yum-o. And the bread – and the Cornish butter – a deep, rich yellow with flavor unlike anything over here in the States (at least anything I’ve eaten). Doesn’t come any better than this. (Before dinner, we had a drink in the pub – so by the time the day was over, we were out like lights.

The coast hike to Polperro

Got up for a wonderful English breakfast – eggs, bacon, sausage, fried tomato, fried bread, basket of these terrific baguettes, Cornish butter (may as well just apply it to my hips) – then Martin drove us to Looe to start our walk. The Coast Road out of Looe onto cliffs overlooked a silver sea. It was a beautiful day – intermittently cloudy and sunny, perfect for walking the six miles to Polperro. We reached Talland Bay (halfway to Polperro) and stopped for a break, then I ran up the hill to see if Allhays <an old B&B manor house that was my favorite of all time> was still there. It was – just as pretty as ever, and still called Allhays, but now a private home. I snapped a few photographs, then it was back down the hill to catch up with Elisa and Leslie on the coastal footpath to Polperro. The views from this path are breathtaking: long green cliffs soaring to a crystal blue sky, and water the color of pearls.

The coast hike to Polperro

I have done this walk so often, and I still love it – and Polperro is still as delightful as ever. By this time, the sun was out in full. We kept running into the same nice couple on the road, and they took our “group” photo.

Noughts & Crosses Inn in Polperro

We had a little lunch at the Noughts and Crosses Inn – finally, a Cornish pasty – accompanied with shandy and Guinness. We rambled around Polperro, looking in shops and the post office (which offers far more than just postage stamps), and finally climbed up the hill to the bus stop at Crumplehorn.

The cliffs on the coast road to Polperro

After a half an hour wait, the bus arrived –off we went, clattering and banging in the narrow narrow hedge-rowed lanes – at a knee-shattering speed – across the bridge and river that splits Looe into East and West; it finally dropped us at our front door at Polraen. Very nice! Great not having to drive for a day.

Dinnertime: Martin had prepared scallop salad for Leslie and me, and prawns in garlic for Elisa. Again, the wonderful baguettes and rich yellow Cornish butter. Then we shared Grand Marnier bread pudding.

And so to bed!

Fowey (pronounced Foy)

Breakfast: Greek yoghurt with Alpen – yum-o. It was absolutely incredible yoghurt! Elisa and Leslie had a full English breakfast – these certainly keep you going all day.

We decided to go to Fowey to hike around town. We drove to Polruan, parked the car, and walked the 1.5 miles to the foot ferry, which took us to Fowey. The day is on/off sunny and cloudy; we lose our way almost immediately, but end up walking around Fowey on roads rather than footpaths. The roads are pretty and lined with lovely old houses, fun to look at, and the flowers and greenery are lush, lush, lush.

Finally, back at the town center, we have a latte at a small pub called Safe Harbor. Very comfortable and relaxing. Not a real hike, but good for the legs and rear!

We caught the ferry back to Polruan, and Leslie and I walked to the car park – another 1.5 miles uphill – to pick up the car and pick up Elisa.

Polraen House’s back garden

And it’s back to Polraen House for a drink in the back garden…it’s turned into a lovely day, and Polraen’s garden backs onto a green green hill with horses grazing across it…so beautiful. The sun was out, and everything was peaceful and quiet. Then another gorgeous meal: Leslie and I have a veggie meal – veggie soup puree (pea-based) and for the main course, new potatoes in butter, beans and carrots. Absolutely the best – and the baguettes and Cornish butter – well, words are beginning to fail me, although apparently not my appetite.

Martin is one of the best chefs – I’ve never had such wonderful food.

And so again to bed.

Sunshine!

Up around 7:30, today we plan to go and see the Lost Gardens of Heligan, St. Mawes and Truro (for its cathedral – but we never make it to Truro). The day is cool and cloudy.

By the time we reach the Gardens, the sun has come out and the sky is absolutely vividly blue. The Gardens’ 200 acres are beautiful, sectioned off into specific type gardens, such as the Jungle Garden, Italian Garden, Asian Garden, etc. They also encompass fields and river walks, which gave us a wonderful walk over fields and along the river…The sun was shining, and the air smelled of flowers. We ate lunch at the Garden Centre – Cornish pasties again…nice!

The Lost Gardens

Then on to St. Mawes, which is one of the prettiest villages in Cornwall. Unfortunately, we arrived rather late, so we saw very little of the village…just toured the little Tudor castle on the hill, and then walked to the sea front, where we stopped for a latte. Martin and Gillian were taking the night off, so we picked up some cheese and rolls and raspberries for an evening snack.

There was a slight drizzle of rain by this time, so we turned for our B&B (the only bit of rain during the entire trip). Tomorrow we leave for the Cotswolds!

From Looe to Snowshill – one of the prettiest of the Cotswolds villages

Up around 9:30for the usual yummy breakfast, ready for the road to the Cotswolds.

As we our paying our bill, one of the other guests come by to say “someone has a flat…” It’s us, unfortunately. A lot of driving over “kerbs” has finally ended with the expected tire problem. Martin and the guest (fromLuxembourg) labored mightily to change the rather recalcitrant tire. It took an hour – with Martin asking, rather testily at one point as he was bending over the car, if his “bum looked big in checks <his pants>!!” …but everything was finally fixed, and then we were off!

We drove from Looe to Snowshill without further incident, and were able to make excellent time – 4.5 hours – as the weather was clear and sunny.

We drove through or around Bristol and Evesham and Broadway, landing at Sheepscombe House around 3:30-ish. Jacki (one of the proprietors) met us and showed us to our rooms. Elisa and Leslie shared a twin bed room in the main house. Mine was up an outside stair – rather a suite, very very pretty. No tub!

The road through the village of Snowshill to our B&B

We unpack, ramble around Snowshill – which is one of England’s most picturesque villages, and the setting for “Bridget Jones” movies – then we go to the village pub (Snowshill Arms) for dinner. Pretty much typical pub food, but good. The table by the window looks over the old churchyard and graveyard where “Bridget” sees her parents re-marry. If you want the countryside of England…there is nothing better than right here.

Then back to Sheepscombe House. My god – it’s bloody cold at night! And the sky is dark dark dark – the tiny country villages of course do not have street lamps…but the sky was clear as a bell, and the stars were out in force…walking beneath the overhanging trees up the lane to Sheepscombe was a bit challenging and fun…we actually had to take flashlights with us, because when it gets dark…it gets dark!

The Snowshill Arms on the village green

Touring the Cotswolds villages – stepping back in time

Up at 7:30…another yummy breakfast, this time with rhubarb yoghurt…organic, natural – absolutely fab! (I wish I could get these yoghurts in Houston.)

We joined Tim (our host) for a full day’s tour of the Cotswolds, including Stanton, Naunton, the Slaughters, Chipping Camden, Bourton on the Water, etc.

A funny moment occurred as Tim was asking Elisa about Bonnie, her dog. “Do you spend much time together?” he asked at one point.

She was silent for a moment, then murmured, “Well, yes, as much as I can…and she sleeps with me.”

It took a moment for us to realize he was actually asking about the three of us!

Again, the weather was incredible…blue sky, clear as a bell, 70 degrees – the sun felt absolutely lovely.

A manor house on our tour

Tim took us at one point to an organic shopping centre. I have never seen so many beautiful things – from foodstuffs to an elegant dress shop with the most beautiful organic clothes, cashmere, fine wool and cotton – expensive as all get out – the clothes were all white or earthtone grey but beautifully tailored, I just craved something from this shop, but it was out of my reach! – one sweater, the sheerest softest white cashmere, ran about 450 pounds ($1000)…white cashmere blankets…A coat I would have died for was 1300 pounds ($2750) – grey/white tweed…and gorgeous furniture in another shop, more white white white (my favorite color). O to be rich!

A garden view

Our tour took us all over the Cotswolds, the small towns were heaven. We also were able to walk through gorgeous manor gardens, and finally got home about 6:30 (85 pounds each of us to Tim). That evening, we ate dinner at The Swan in Broadway – so English, and just a perfect end to the day.

Broadway, quintessentially Cotswold

Up around7AM– wash hair, finally! Great hairdryer! After breakfast, we hotfoot it to the garage to see about the tire. It’s a goner – 200 pounds ($400+) for a new one – so we drop the tire off, Mike (the garage owner) says to drop back around 4PM…

A tea room in Broadway

Off we went to look around Broadway, a historic old town that is the starting point for touring many other small villages in the Cotswolds. I bought a few small gifts, then we had lattes (again), and drove off to Snowshill Manor, a mausoleum of a mansion filled with an eccentric’s collection of things from all over the world – one room was dedicated to bicycles, and included a penny-farthing. I remember my grandfather had one of those…

I found out the meaning of the old phrase, “Good night. Sleep tight.” In the old days, mattresses were run through with rope, from one side of the bed; the rope was twined through the other side of the bed, and pulled tight, to keep the mattress firm. Thus “Sleep tight.”

A view of the gardens at Snowshill Manor

The gardens at Snowshill Manor were absolutely incredible – orchards with pears and apples in abundance – beautiful stonework and finials – roses, pansies, sweet peas, climbing vines, green lawns – all in abundance. The scent of the roses was intense. Lunch is at a tiny restaurant on the grounds…

Doorway to the secret garden!

From Snowshill Manor, we drove to Snowshill Lavendar – unfortunately, closed until May. The lavender fields were totally shorn. So we left for theBroadwayTower– which, when you climb 250 feet – has a 360 view of the Cotswolds countryside. Below, we saw about 20 deer gathered under the trees…

Back then to the garage – tire has not even been delivered yet, so we go back to Sheepscombe House, where E&L take naps.

A view on my walk

I however left for a couple of hours’ walk through and over fields, meeting a nice man (Bill) and his dog (Gus) – we walked and talked back to his car, and I met and chatted with Daphne, his wife. Lovely couple …then I continued my walk.

The weather is incredible here in the Cotswolds – cloudy one minute – brilliant sunshine the next.

The clouds drifted away and the sun came out in full, the sky once again clean clear blue. This is the best time of day in the Cotswolds…between 4-6PM…everything is golden in the soft sunlight…the fields the greenest, the Cotswolds stone the most golden…the little village of Snowhill lies like a basket of white eggs in a green bowl…incredibly beautiful, surrounded by hill, woods and fields…I could have walked on forever.

I meet E&L for dinner at the Snowhill Arms at 7PM– finally, steak and kidney pie. Yum-o again! After dinner, a couple next to us passes over a half bottle of red wine they couldn’t finish – she is from Thailand, he from Virginia. We had a lovely long talk with them…then we are back on the pitch dark Cotswold path to Sheepscombe. Luckily, Jacki has given us the heavy big flashlights to carry and light us home through the narrow high hedgerows!

Spending a day hiking around Snowshill and Stanway

Up around7AM– a cup of tea and a read before breakfast. I see on the news that Pavarotti has died. Another giant gone.

Joanna <a friend from Austin visiting relatives in Cirencester> gets here around10AM to meet me for a hike, and we set off for one “round robin” walk around Stanton, Stanway and Snowshill. We start at Snowhill instead of Stanton– and of course, somehow end up doing a complete circle of Snowshill!

Driving on to Stanton, we stop in the village pub atop a hill (lovely!) for lunch. Stanton is a beautiful town – all houses are the old Cotswolds stone – flowers are blooming everywhere. The sun’s out intermittently. In the distance, rolling hills and vales…

Hiking around Stanton

After lunch, we set off for Stanway, walking “The Cotswolds Way”, an historic 100+ mile long footpath, which runs through the heart of the Cotswolds. We reach Stanway – another historic and charming small village, without incident.

However, once we climb a (majorly) steep hill to where we are supposed to turn towards Snowshill – we wind up getting completely and utterly lost. After wittering around, climbing up and down for an hour, we finally find a promising path which actually leads us back to Stanton!

We’ve hiked through fields, orchards, deep hedgerowed lanes, roads, and through woods – just a lovely 9+-mile ramble, which I desperately needed! I loved it…

Back in the car for Broadway, finishing at the Horse and Hounds for shandies before saying goodbye.

Morton on Marsh and Bourton Manor

Awoke rather early for me –6:45 AM. I love the cup of tea and the moment of quiet in my room in the early morning. The sun was pouring in through my windows – a gorgeous day – again – awaited us.

The weather changes here almost hourly – one minute it can be glorious sun – then clouds appear – blow away – then come back – the sky darkens – then again, the sun is out full blast.

The most beautiful time of day here has been between 4-6PM. The air is soft, the sun shines but not as intensely, and the sky completely clears. All is bathed in the soft golden sunlight, and Jane Austen’s ghost hovers nearby.

The Manor House – absolutely beautiful

Today we drove to Morton on the Marsh after breakfast and – quite by accident – parked across from a stunning house called Bourton Manor. The gardens were open to the public – the prettiest I have seen yet – manicured lawns, massed flower borders, topiaries, mazes, finials, stonework, espaliers with various beautiful climbing vines and flowers – roses abounded, highly scented – there is a “white garden” with stocks, roses, daisies – I loved this garden, and the house is an architectural gem.

and gardens

From there,  on to the Falconry down the road to watch a peregrine falcon display, and then on to the nearby Arboretum. After this, we drove to Burford, a pretty (and not so small) market town, with lovely shops along a winding hilly main street.

Snowshill – could anything be prettier?

When we arrived back at Sheepscombe House, it was 5PM– I went for an hour’s walk again up around fields and hills, discovering that exquisite view of Snowshill…I think one of the most beautiful in England.

Another lovely day. Tomorrow, we leave for London!

Blenheim Palace

Up for breakfast – and on the road to Blenheim Palace, which we tour and hear all about the Marlborough family…and not enough about Churchill! But what history! The gardens were also incredible…but the air had actually turned chilly, so we didn’t linger. We got back in the car and determined to find Windsor…suffice it to say, we did not! So we stopped closer to Gatwick for a lunch/dinner…then found The Little Foxes (the less said about that, the better), went for a quick drink, and so to bed…

Blenheim Palace

And thus ended the latest English sabbatical…I couldn’t have asked for better weather, better countryside, better food…just more hikes! But it was great. Now I know why I keep going back…and back…and….

Beautiful