hoverfly

I have and have had quite a few over the past decades but the one that always stuck with me was walking. We have a car, it sits happily in our driveway and these days I am relatively reluctant to use it at all. I just get kind of frustrated with all the aggression on the road, these days even in Britain, where I still remember, some 30 years ago, it was all give on the road. Well, however that may be... I am rambling again.

My wife and I moved back to the UK since we very much like the people, it's multi-cultural setting and the fact that there are still places where there is no motorway (highway for you US people) in sight. Norfolk being one of the counties where there is not one single motorway, heaven for walkers.

Some of our favourite places to spend holidays are, well nearly everywhere, I guess. Scotland is one of our best explored places, as is Wales with its rugged mountains, the dramatic sea cliffs and still abundant wildlife. I suppose there is no need to mention the Lake and Peak District or the sometimes overcrowded New Forest.

One of our most wonderful experiences ever was a three week hike through Scotland, back in 1998. A friend had given us a lift to Glasgow where we stayed with his family (actually, it felt almost like ours) and later dropped us off on the road to Loch Lomond. Even if you don't live in the UK, do check it out, it is staggeringly beautiful and the people we've met over the years are kind, gentle and very hospitable.

It hardly took more then a couple of hours until a car passed by, stopped and the driver asked if we would like to "hop in", which we did. They, a family, were on the way back from a vacation in Sweden and since we didn't have any particular place that we wanted to go to gratefully accepted the offer. They took us up to a place called Plockton. Well, what can I say, the place just blew us away. Even most Britons don’t realise what a jewel there is on the West Coast of Scotland, just East of the Isle of Skye.

It looks just like something out of a History of Britain programme. Palm trees on the beach, a climate that appears more suited for the South of France, the two Lochs (Carron and Kishorn), Golden Eagles not far off to the South. Our own little paradise, though it has become a bit of haunt for the rich and famous seeking peace and quiet. Outstanding, truly outstanding. If you are ever in Scotland, don’t miss it or maybe do miss it (for our sake).

We ended up staying with the family, bear in mind they had only just met us, for three or four days, addresses and phone numbers were exchanged and for several years there ensued mutual visits. Hey, how often does that happen in real life?

We from there made out way up along the coast, totally aimless, staying in Pubs where possible, sleeping rough or occasionally in a B&B.

At some point we decided it would be nice if we could make it up to the far North of Scotland, John-o-Groats or Mey. We did manage, not all on foot but getting a lift on occasions or taking the bus, whatever was available. Just before we finally got to Mey we had to pass a place called Greenland, no joke. The place is in the far North East of Scotland, has a smallish lake named… Loch Heilen, Loch Keilen, I forget, something like that anyway.

My wife didn’t feel much like doing any extra walking, so I set off for a couple of hours of browsing the hillocks, when I heard the sound of pipes being played, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Low and behold, on a little hill overlooking the Loch stood a figure playing the pipes. Walked up the hill, looked at the chap, smiled at him, he gestured me to stay if I wanted, at least that’s how I interpreted his look and sat down to listen to him playing. Later we talked, which proved to be a little difficult since some of those Highland dialects are pretty hard to swallow, so I guess I did manage to miss most of the finer points about Scottish History he was trying to enlighten me about. Still, the whole situation was kind of unreal. Sitting on a hill with a total stranger playing the pipes, overlooking the Loch.

To again cut a long story short, what had been intended as a couple of hours hike turned into almost a full day away and by the time I got back to our campsite my wife was pretty worried that something might have happened to me. This was in the days before everybody had a mobile phone. These day we too carry a couple of cheap and cheerful pay as you go mobiles around with us for emergencies.

The last couple of days we spent getting from Mey, which is very picturesque with its Castle and the magnificent garden, can’t remember if it is still owned by the Royal Family, to John-o-Groats, supposedly the most northerly point in Scotland. I guess the best thing about John-o-Groats was the boat trip we took around the cliffs where hundreds of thousands of birds nest. Nice, but I got seasick, not nice. I think my wife enjoyed that trip more than I did.

To finish our trip off we had to take a bus back to Wick, the only place where we could catch a train from to get us to Inverness and on to Edinburgh.

Unfortunately, we didn’t really have any time to explore either Inverness, no, we didn’t get to see Nessy, or Edinburgh in great detail. Sometimes the time table does impose severe limitations on you. Still, there is always another day.

All in all this was one of the most positively memorable journeys we’ve ever undertaken (the worst one having been one to the Lake District where I, from pure stupidity, was stuck half way up a mountain for a week, in the pouring rain, I have rarely ever experienced such a continuous downpour in Europe, suffering the worst case of diarrhoea ever, which resulted from me being a total dickhead, drinking water from a stream. Should have known that there might be sheep grazing further up).

For this year we are in the late planning stages for our first leg of what in the end should become the cirumwalking (I made this up) of Britain. All being well, that is our health permitting, we will start some time in June or July from down the East Coast, on the Thames Estuary making our way up through East Anglia (Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk) hoping to get as far as Gateshead and Newcastle (I really want to see the “Angel of the North” sculpture in real life), also I am looking forward to our passing through parts of Yorkshire, where I hope Yorkshire Salt Marsh Lamb will still be in season, with a proper Yorkshire Pudding, of course.

Norfolk should go down like a dream. The stretch from Cromer to The Wash is one of the finest Bird Sanctuaries in the country, at least I think so. Mind you, the best time to be there is in Autumn with the migration in full swing. Now that’s sight to behold. But you can’t have it all I guess.

But however far we may get this year, I think we both still have a fair bit of life left in us, so, at the end of the day we will get as far as we will get and continue from there next year.

Walking around most of Britains little nooks and crannies the journey shouldn’t be more then about 800 miles, a distance that can easily be cover in a couple of month, plus an extra month for all those unexpected things you discover on the way, places that so much delight you that you just have to stay a few days, like Ipswich and Norwich where friends are already waiting for our arrival. Depending on when we actually do leave, might even catch some of the Peterborough Folk Festival. Again, some of this really does depend on what the weather will be like, I am not leaving on a rainy day, little bit superstitious about that.

Our biggest concern at the moment is having to convince on of our friends to stay at our house for up to three month, after all, they do live somewhere too but someone needs to look after our cats. But I am sure we will get that sorted out shortly.

To be honest, we just can’t wait to get on the road or rather footpath as it were. The old tried and trusted walking boots are sure making one hell of a racket in the cupboard. LOL

I hope I haven’t bored anybody to death, yet. It all started as trying to get a discussion about ones hobbies going and ended up pretty much of a hiking story. Well, never mind, there is always another day for another hobby.

One thing I guess I probably did manage to put across and that is my deep love for the British countryside, which, contrary to all those wonderful TV programmes on the BBC is receding fast and furiously. Thirty years ago when I went for my first trip into the British countryside, things were different. Less traffic, I have some friends who will proudly tell you that they don’t even walk to the corner shop at the top of their road. Sorry, walking 200 yards is something that everybody should be willing and able to do.

Anyway, I also very much enjoy history, especially British these days, plus I spend a fair bit of time volunteering with a well known British environmental organisation, who I think are doing a terrific job at keeping things alive as it were. So, if you see some fat fuck wearing waders, roaming the salt marshes off one of the tiny Islets in the Thames, trying to stay inconspicuous while counting water voles, that’s me.