Return of the Native 2 - Cawthorne in Cawthorne

Rental Car Tip #1

Consider the time factor before you indulge in a luxury car. I splashed out an extra £7 a day which would have been fine had I not spent an hour going in and out of the office to find out how things like the seat height and tilt, the transmission, the sat nav worked and even how to shut the open sunroof in an English heatwave we were having. Mercedes has reinvented the whole damned lot!

The plan was to tootle through the Yorkshire Dales and end up in the South Yorkshire village of Cawthorne which we eventually did after an ongoing battle with the car’s electronic devices. Our first stop was Richmond which is my middle name and one smart looking market town that is now on the list for further investigation next visit. I'm hoping we still have one more in us.

From there it was on to Hawes which comes highly recommended by Bill Bryson. It's quaint, it's cobbled and it's highly wanderable. Green rolling hills gave way to moors not far out of Hawes as we headed south-west to the Ribbenhead Viaduct which is a glorious example 19th century railway engineering. Hiking trails are frequently dressed with crushed granite or basalt which explains the British obsession with hiking boots and poles even for short walks. I reflected upon this at length during our 3km rock-hoping ramble to the viaduct and back but it was well worth the effort. Stone and brick arches aside, the sheep were rather fetching.

Next stop was Halifax for three very good reasons:

1. We really enjoyed ‘Last Tango in Halifax’
2. We've been to Halifax, Nova Scotia and enjoyed that too
3. Nanna would say “Go to Halifax!” when she really meant “Go to hell!” so we have - twice.

Now this is where the sat nav had her way and took us on a merry old ride north-east on the A64 then due south on the M1 before she finally allowed us onto a local road for the last few km but happily enough that road was Cawthorne Road. I had imagined travelling a more scenic local route all the way but what can I say? Sometimes technology really, really shits me!

Cawthorne Accommodation Tip #1

But Sarah and Andy’s backyard studio flat smack in the middle of Cawthorne didn't impact unfavorably on my bowels in anyway, it fact it's to be highly recommended. We thoroughly enjoyed the light modern space with its rustic Yorkshire exterior, the lovely garden and the pair of very vocal rooting hedgehogs - sweet little copulatory creatures.

I first heard about Cawthorne from a woman I once taught who'd worked in the pub there while backpacking in the 70s. It was full of hard working, hard drinking, heavy smoking Yorkshiremen in those days and few of them spoke standard English but it's now a gastro pub with boutique brewed largers and ales and no less than 17 kinds of gin. That aside, they still put way too much salt in the light curry sauce that spoiled my monkfish and seared scallops. Some things never change.

Cawthorne is an extremely liveable Midsomer style of village but I've only been there in summer and autumn, it could be completely foul in winter but we had a marvellous time pottering about and I am now the proud owner of a pair of mugs that are emblazoned with:

London

New York

Paris

Cawthorne

After two very comfortable and happy nights we headed south-east to visit Lara, Nikos and Yiannis at Fordham near Cambridge. Lara is one of my Claytons nieces - the nieces you have when you don't have nieces - and the oldest daughter of my New Zealand bridesmaid, Philip. But that didn't happen without a significant amount of swearing on my part en route to the Nene Valley Railway which runs between Wansford and Peterborough. The problem was the station isn't actually in Wansford and even the locals didn't know its location.

I finally flung the Merc into the station car park just as a rather splendid green engine steamed out towards either Pixley or Hooterville, which ever is the short run to the terminal end of the track. But all was not lost - apart from my camera which I left on a table at the ticket office but it came back again and so did the train which we boarded for the longer return trip to Peterborough. It was the most ordinary of the four steam train journeys we did this time but a mid-week Heritage rail excursion is guaranteed to make anyone under the age of 70 feel like a teenager compared to the other passengers and for that it was well worth all the swearing.

We had a brilliant outdoor Northern Summer Solstice celebration with the Jamieson-Nikiforakis family by the Snail which is a shallow but reasonably wide stream at the foot of their garden. The wine was rather special and Nikos’ saganaki prawns were a real treat.

Cambridge Accommodation Tip #1

The best £96 you could possibly spend on accommodation in the entire UK is at Trinity Hall, Fordham near Cambridge. We had the superior room in a glorious Victorian home where even our en suite is the size of a bedroom and in fact used to be one. Trinity Hall is the home of Sue and John Taylor and is John’s family home.  It is also a working farm on the village edge. Sue absolutely spoilt us with breakfast which was by far the very best of our whole six weeks of travel. The huge vase of sweet peas on the perfectly set dinning table pushed Trinity Hall from 2 to 3 Cawthorne Stars which is a rating scale similar that which the French tyre company plagiarised.

http://www.trinfast.co.uk/

We concluded our travels in the gardens of Anglesea Abbey which is neither an Abbey nor by the sea but a rather large and house that was formerly owned but a couple of brothers with an English mother and an American father who bought a peerage. It was originally a priory but Henry VIII took care of that and then gave the estate to one of his mates - as he did.

The brothers agreed that the first to marry would surrender the house to the other. Given that the brother who remained had an extensive collection of nude male sculptures and portraits it think it was a done deal, on his part at least. Add to that the fact that the Queen Mother was a regular house guest during the racing season and there is little doubt that we’re talking queer peer here. And yes, I have touched the toilet the Queen Mum used - my third verified flush with royalty having already used two that were sat upon by HM the Queen herself.

Return of the Native 2 - Iceland 3

We realised the Sorento had a sat nav right about the time we left Þingvellir for Reykjavik which was handy but we still had trouble finding the hotel because the travel agent anglicised the spelling of the street name and it could have been and one of three or none at all. Björk (as we called her) did her very best though and took us to each in turn until we finally located the Centerhotel Klopp.

Downtown Reykjavik isn't busy, which is rather fortunate. We scored a park right near the hotel and fed the meter for a day and a bit since there are no restriction on how long you can stay just as long as you pay.

Reykjavik Tucker Tip #1

Go to Gló. There are four of them to choose from in Reykjavik and they specialise in vegan, vegetarian and raw food with one token meat dish for carnivores. It was so good we went to the one on Laugavegur not once but two nights in a row. It's in the heart of the tourist area, just one short block from our hotel and the food is wonderful. It's also very reasonably priced and the atmosphere is relaxed and friendly.

You can get around the tourist and cultural heart of Reykjavik on foot without any trouble and unlike London, people tend to keep to one side of the footpaths rather than bouncing back and forth all over the place. Do, however, be wary of daredevil young men on bicycles and terribly drunk youths who take a shine to you because you're wearing shorts or you remind them of their grandfather. I attracted one such inebriated young chap whilst we were minding our own business on the tourist strip one evening. He was a big hulking Viking type but otherwise seemingly harmless and I did wonder how anyone in Iceland could afford to get as staggeringly drunk as he was.

Iceland Alcohol Tip #1

Use your time in Iceland to detox because grog is ridiculously expensive. It is only available in bars and restaurants at exorbitant prices, especially the wine, or at state owned liquor stores of which there are only 12 in the entire capital. It can be an extremely long drive to get a takeaway once you’re outside Reykjavik and I didn't see a single one during our travels.

If detoxing is not on your agenda then take in some duty free, they have a quite generous allowance but don't buy it inbound at Keflavik International Airport. The duty free there is literally double the outbound price in Manchester.

We commenced our Reykjavik experience with a visit to church. No, I haven’t recovered from being recovered, it's a church with a view. The Hallgrímskirkja is one of the tallest structures in Iceland with an elevator to the top of its spire which functions as a viewing platform. The cathedral sized church was designed in the 1930s and construction went on in stages until the 1960s with restorations being undertaken as I write. It's a fine building both inside and out with a facade that is evocative of the basalt columns you see in many places around Iceland.

Interestingly enough, the architect responsible for Hallgrímskirkja, Guðjón Samúelsson, also designed the Roman Catholic Cathedral a decade earlier and the similarities are striking, particularly the particular style of vaulted ceiling and the faux granite columns. The cathedral is smaller and being Roman Catholic it’s more elaborate than the Lutheran church but they are undeniably two peas from the same pod.

Our final destination in Iceland was the Blue Lagoon which is a flash thermal spa. We began with lunch in their smart restaurant where you can dine in your Premium Package terry towelling dressing gown and thongs but we remained clothed. Then it was off to the “You must shower naked before you enter the Blue Lagoon” highly complicated and convoluted change rooms. Some 20 minutes later we finally made it into the warm, mineral-rich water that I can still feel on my thick grey chest hair which even I must admit is past its best-by date and due for a serious clip.

We thoroughly enjoyed our final night in Iceland staying at the Northern Light Inn near the Blue Lagoon. It was spacious and friendly and it has the best beds in all of Iceland which was a crying shame because we had to get out of them at 4.00am to catch our flight back to Manchester.

We had a wonderful time but I wasn't sad to leave Iceland’s 24 hour summer light behind. It is extremely disorienting if you come from a place like Sydney where there is distinct day and night. Lin lives in the north-east of England where the summer sun finally sets at around 11.00pm so was good with Iceland but I'm ready for a 15 minute Australian twilight then darkness - with stars!

Return of the Native 2 - Iceland 2

Iceland Must-Do Tip #1

A Zodiac ride around Jökulsárlón Glacial Lagoon at the head of Breiðamerkurjökull Glacier which comes from a massive but shrinking Vatnajökull ice field in south-eastern Iceland is worth whatever it costs and they have lots of extra zeros on the krona to stop you from working that out easily. The glacier is retreating at an alarming rate but of course there is no climate change or at least none that humans are responsible for and the likes of Tony Abbott and the Bum Trumpet will tell you that for nothing and do so quite LOUDLY!

The lagoon came into existence during the 1930s when the glacier retreated from the sea.  It's rather large today and growing rapidly as the glacier continues to shrink. But I'll be dead before climate change gets too much worse and since I have no children or grandchildren I’ve decided to adopt the prevailing laissez faire attitude and just not give an airborne act of copulation.

The scenery began to change at the glaciers as we continued on in our clockwise semi-circular trek around the island. The western end of Vatnajökull marks the transition from steep coastal mountains and deep fjords to broad, flat and fairly arid coastal plains that are dissected by gushing streams of snow melt. The aridity gradually gives way to fields of silage that is harvested to feed the sheep, cows and horses which are all stabled in barns over winter - or at least the ones that aren't sent to the knackery in autumn. You can buy pony meat in the supermarkets - equine lamb.

Peter and I ventured out on our own for dinner in the black sand coastal town of Vik. Flash hotel tucker is quite nice and extremely well presented but it's also extremely pricey - Rockpool pricey! A local restaurant was half the cost, albeit with half the space, but it had everything that was on the hotel menu and then 20 or so other things.

Puffin Tip #1

A good puffin-spotting location is around the south-eastern town of Vik but don't set your heart on it. If you seek out their flight paths you can watch them buzz overhead like hell-for-leather flying penguins but if you want is a close up and personal then best hook up with a tour operator.

The coastal plain widened and became greener after Vik and I started to wonder if there may be an Icelandic word for verdant after all but I suspect that green is about as far as it goes.

Waterfalls, or foss, tumble from the sharp uplift above the coastal plain every few kilometres, some of them quite spectacular, none of them unremarkable. There is even one you can walk behind provided you don't mind getting terribly wet. The roads improve at this point since it is within day-tripper distance from Reykjavik. Farms present as more affluent and often have clusters of smart little tourist cabins which would provide a considerable boost to income through summer.

Geyser Tip #1

If you're after proper sulphur-belching, mud-bubbling, truly spurty geysers best visit New Zealand.

There are a lot more tourists closer to Reykjavik, and I mean tourists, not travellers although you do happily encounter the latter from time to time. Between this point of the journey and the Blue Lagoon spa on our final day I had a shocking urge to slap anyone with a shrill American accent. It used to be old codgers in caps emblazoned with the names of US Navy ships but these days the young ones are far worse, much more penetrating and numbingly dumb!

I have a passion for democracy, genuine democracy not the Trumped up redneck xenophobic populism that is currently sweeping the world, so I've long been intrigued by a place known as Þingvellir (Thingvellir).

In fact, it has fascinated me ever since I first learned about it in Jimmy Dolan's amazing Viking Era course at UNE in 1977. Þingvellir - literally "Parliament Plains" - was the site of the first Alþing (Althing) or Parliament in 930. Chieftain and farmers from all over Iceland gathered at Lögberg (the Law Rock) each year to make and recite the law, pass judgements, make common decisions and settle disputes.

Through the Vikings, Cnut in particular, this very first parliament became the origin of the Westminster System of government which operates in Australia today. The Congressional System and most other forms of Western government also owe their origins to the Alþing at Þingvellir. I was overawed to stand before the Law Rock and look out across the plain, the birthplace of actual democracy - forget about the Greeks, they just gave us the vocabulary and souvlaki.

Return of the Native 2 - Iceland 1

Lin, Peter and I had a wet drive from County Durham to the Manchester Airport Inn but sang 'We're All Going On a Summer Holiday' nevertheless. When we arrived in the early afternoon the temperature was 16', exactly the same as it was in wintery Sydney, except it was nighttime there. Lin's cousin Margaret took the train up from London to meet us and next morning we all hopped into a cab and headed to the airport for our flight to Iceland.

We left England's green and pleasant fields well behind because looking down from the air on Iceland it's barren, Sharon. It was better once on the ground but I doubt there is a word for verdant in the Icelandic language. There are lupins galore, this being the season, and lots of lava flows in the east. The one hour bus ride between the international and domestic airports took me back to Savai'i in Samoa without the coconut palms, heat or humidity.

That bus ride with a change en route had us on the edges of our seats because the plane in was late and we had a tight onward connection but we made it onto the 40 seater for the 50 minute flight to Egilsstaðir in the easternmost part of Iceland where we began our Iceland adventure.

Egilsstaðir is the main service centre for the east which doesn't mean it's big, there are only a couple of thousand residents. The airport stayed open late to set us up with our very comfortable and rather roomy Kia Sorento. In fact the Europcar chap was the one who locked the building as we left for the 2km drive to the flashest the hotel I've ever stayed in. I tend to judge holiday accommodation by its potential for conversation into aged care facilities and I would happily spend my terminal years at the Gistihúsið Lake Hotel, although probably not in Iceland.

Don't get me wrong here, Iceland is amazing but it's currently summer and if I had just one word to describe the place that word would be 'bleak'. It's a fantastic to visit but I certainly wouldn't want to live here. Much of the landscape is alpine without the altitude and trees are very scarce although an arboretum has been established on the shores of the loch-like Lagarfljót which we looked out on from our first hotel. It's so loch-like it has its very own Loch Ness Monster, a kind of gigantic worm, or so legend has it.

After circumambulating Lagarfljót, and attempting to climb up to one of Iceland's many waterfalls, we headed over the snow covered tabletop mountains to the coastal town of Seyðisfjörður where Peter found himself locked inside the toilet at the visitors' centre when the lights were suddenly turned off and the whole place shut down for the day. Lin had to chase after the proprietor who was by then headed off across the car park towards home, wherever that was.

Unless you travel by boat there is only one way in and out of so back we went to Egilsstaðir then onto our next overnight stay in Fáskrúðsfjörður. The drive was was a taste of the Canadian Rockies, not quite as grand but it certainly brought back memories. And the Fosshotel which is right on the fjord is truly the stuff of memories. The the Gistihúsið Lake Hotel rapidly faded to second position as the Fosshotel became my newest and flashest ever overnight stay. Our beautifully finished rooms opened out onto decks over the water where eider ducks splashed about and preened themselves for hours on end. The restaurant wasn't cheap but it was outstanding with the best langoustines yet.

Breakfast was superb and checkout at noon. I didn't want to leave either the table or the room but we had places to go and things to see.

We headed back through the 6km long Fáskrúðsfjarðargöng Tunnel to the town of Reyðarfjörðurt that we'd passed by the previous day. This is where Lin's father was stationed in WWII during Britain's friendly invasion of Iceland which staved off a far less friendly one by Germany and kept the shipping lanes to North America open right throughout the war. Lin was keen to visit and the small military museum there is a storehouse of history. We also had a bit of fun communicating with the three elderly women running the place, none of whom spoke English but we liked them because they let us all in as 67+ seniors.

Now how many of you have driven through the Fáskrúðsfjarðargöng Tunnel even once? Well I'm very happy to boast that I've now done it not once, not twice, but three times and I'm mightily impressed with Icelandic engineering ability.

On we went through another tunnel then in and out of fjords and past stratified, uplifted and tilted mountainsides that truly had me wishing I'd studied geology. The scree at the foot of them was sometimes hundreds of metres in height, enough basalt to reballast every railway line on Earth.

Night 3 was at another Flosshotel near Höfn which was fine but we were spoiled absolutely rotten on our previous two nights. We did have distant views of the gigantic Vatnajökull Icecap though, or at least we did once the rain and mist had cleared, but half the disjointed bathroom was in the main part of the room which was a bit odd, especially given that it looked like a kitchen. An architect and an interior designer clearly cooked that idea up over a long and very boozy lunch.

I managed to put aside my fascination with 24 hour sunshine and close the block out curtains that night. So much light does not bode at all well for sleep.

Return of the Native 2 - The Highlands

Accommodation Disappointment #1

The Inn on Loch Lomond just north of Luss looks OK online but the Trip Advisor comments made me wary. Had there been more options in the area at this time of year I would have heeded the warnings but there was very little choice so I booked their best room with a dinner and breakfast package for a great deal of money. The room with its glorious view over Loch Lomond was fine, until you looked at the wear and tear and the pretentious freestanding plastic bathtub without a shower which presented a real challenge for a couple of fat old farts come morning.

The food was average, morning service and selection rough, and the table sticky at both dinner and breakfast. Spend your money elsewhere.

Crossing the glacial terrain between Loch Lomond and Fort William took me back to 5th Form geography - that's Year 11 for all you young things - and it just made me want to slap a flat earther! We were looking at aeons of geological and climatic activity, not something that was pulled out of a cosmic magician's hat, along with the rest of the universe, in 3500 BC. The God I learned about in Sunday School was far smarter than that.

The Jacobite steam train trip out of Fort William to Malliag on the coast by the Isle of Skye was all we hoped it would be. It's a two hour ride each way through a taste of every kind of Scottish landscape from farmland to lochs, across more glacial terrain and then the seashore. Best of all was the magnificent sweeping curve of the Glenfinnan Viaduct of Harry Potter fame.

We sat with an American couple and their adult children on the way out and another American couple on the way out. All were very quick to apologise for Trump and assure us they hadn't voted for him which I'd taken as a given anyway. They were charming and interesting folk who were absolutely brimming with common sense which made me feel a little better about what America has allowed itself to become over the last six months.

Loch Lochy Accommodation Tip #1

Even at two and a half months out when I tried to book, accommodation was tight in the Highlands so we ended up in the last room at Corriegour Lodge on Loch Lochy between Fort William and a Loch Ness and it was wonderful. Design wise, Fawlty Towers immediately sprung to mind but the similarity ended there. Unlike the Inn on Loch Lomond, it was extremely well maintained and the staff showed a genuine interest in their guests. Breakfast was almost silver service and the whole experience was a glaring contrast to our precious night but enough of that.

I must say I wondered about the name of Loch Lochy. There are many lochs so had they simply run out of ideas and begun to double up or were we in Scotland's very own version of Wagga Wagga? The rather fortunate absence of teenage mothers smoking Winnie Blues completely scotched the latter idea.

The morning started off sunny but in rolled the cloud and then the rain. If there is a monster in Loch Ness it had plenty of cover. Never mind, we got the idea - it's very long, quite wide in parts, and holds a shitload of water. But don't go to the information Centre at Port Augustus hoping to learn anything about the geology and geography of the area. If it's not a postcard or souvenir you're after they can't assist.

We enjoyed the day nevertheless and the sky cleared whilst we were in Inverness so we did Scotland's most awarded garden centre which is mostly under cover anyway and I can see why. We did take a wee turn past Culloden but I'm not sure battles are things best remembered.

So off we went to Aviemore in Scotland's main ski area. We stayed at the Macdonald Resort which is like a university campus of hotels in a park-like setting with shops, restaurants, entertainment and Gough knows what else in the middle. For those of you who know, if this was the University of New England I'd say we were staying in Austin College. The rooms here are bigger but the rest is remarkably similar.

The dinner train on the Strathspey Railway was great fun but sadly not at all well patronised. Perhaps too many others had been faithfully promised an offal-free meal only to find their chicken breast oozing with oats and minced innards. Never mind, they rustled me up some pasta and a free bottle of wine by way of an apology and a good evening was had.

Next morning we set off on a six hour drive south to Durham and our good friend Lin and her very special wee Westie, Piper. There was plenty to see en route but we were pressed for time so may need to return to Scotland some other time - in fact, we will most certainly be back. Lin and I first met backpacking in America 39 years ago. She is an extremely important part of my life and a good many of you reading this are doing so because of the fortuitous bus-board meeting that ultimately brought so many of us into one another's lives.  And isn't that exactly what it's all about?

Return of the Native 2 - Glasgow

Glasgow Accommodation Tip #1

We stayed at the Grand Central Hotel in Glasgow.  It has indeed been grand in its day and a fairly recent refurbishment has restored much of that.  It is quite literally at Glasgow's Central Station and even has a dedicated entrance directly from the concourse but we missed that and we went out into the street to battle the cigarette and vape smokers then came back in the main entrance.

I know it's an addiction, and both of my parents were well in its terminal grip, but I've never understood smoking so this new vape business is completely perplexing.  They puff about the streets like an unholy fusion of a steam train and a bushfire with complete and utter disregard for all others which is what most smokers do anyway.

But Glasgow streets aren't the same battle as London and Edinburgh.  There are less people and just a fraction of the tourists so people tend to be less self-obsessed and even appear somewhat more cognisant of what's around them.

First stop was the Willow Tea Rooms which are a faithful reconstruction of the original by John Rennie Mackintosh.  I must admit I knew nothing of him before Lin opened my eyes to his wonderful legacy last visit and now he is part of my Holy Architectural Trinity Plus One.  If John Rennie Mackintosh, Walter Burley Griffin and Frank Lloyd Wright were sat at a table (as they say here) they would have far more in common than just their triple-barrel names.

Griffin and his wife Marion Mahoney were students of FLW and part of the Taliesin School so the connection between their styles and that of Wright is both obvious and unavoidable.  I need to investigate further to see what, if any, connection existed between Mackintosh and Wright.

Both Mackintosh and Griffin had wives who deserve much greater recognition for their role as architects, draftsmen and designers which is exactly what Marion Mahoney was in her own right, hence my Holy Architectural Trinity Plus One.  Margaret Macdonald was also an accomplished artist and designer who, like Marion, worked hand in hand with her husband to document, furnish and decorate their extraordinary creations.  Frank Lloyd Wright, on the other hand, was a womanising bastard.

Glasgow Tucker Tip #1

By the time we'd walked across the Clyde and back then around the downtown we were too tired to think about going out to dinner so decided to settle on some F&Cs and a deep-fried battered Mars Bar from the Blue Lagoon chippy since the Justin Bieber Deep-Fried Battered Haggis Supper was never gonna happen.  Now I know exactly what you're thinking - deep-fried battered Mars Bar, gross!  But it's not, in fact it's damned good and contains all three basic food - sugar, fat and salt!

Next day saw us at the also recreated Mackintosh House at the University if Glasgow.  It was recreated because the original, about 100 metres away was slowly sinking due to mine subsidence.  A way of remediating the same problem was found for an entire neighbourhood in Bath but Glasgow decided upon what I like to call the Masterton Homes Solution instead - the Knock Down Rebuild Package.

Leaving town on Day 3 we headed to Hill House in Helensburgh just west of Glasgow which is both Charles and Margaret, inside and out and contains some of their finest work.  That was a treat and then some, especially the shower in the main bathroom which has ring upon ring of semi-circular jets that make it look like a cross between a decontamination unit and something terribly nasty from Metropolis.

Glasgow left us both wanting more which is a lovely way to leave a place.