Whistlestop UK - family, fens and fairly good weather

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Where were all my Spanish learning efforts and Patricia’s night classes moving towards?



Thinking of options to develop this beautiful language, we chose Spain, the (apparently) third most visited country in the World and distinct to last year’s Central and South America effort.



Nine months since booking comes around so quick (that then became 3 months, then one week and then one day). We had reached a state of slightly frazzled unprepared preparedness for our UK whistle stop tour (for family), and the logistics of a self-guided and self-sufficient cycle tour across the Northern provinces.



Flying for nearly 30 hours never is complimentary to the appearance! Nor one’s ability to lock their seatbelt into the adjustable lie flat seat correctly that they needed help for a jammed buckle, just as we were about to hit the runway. The attentive attendant and their attentive smiles charmed, and flashing that smile, P2 was off the hook and buckle, literally.



Hats off to Qatar airway’s service, but after all these years, there is not the technology to make us less wrinkly when we arrive.



Those yellow and black Heathrow airport signs had not changed in 15 years since I had first visited. We arrived to a surprisingly mild morning and after some typical security checks and ease of bringing in the peppermint tea bags, we found our rental car after taking an airport bus 20 minutes ride away at Europcar, on the Northern perimeter road.



Check in at the car counter was average. Once her upsell failed on me for a smaller car with in built GPS, and additional insurance which we had arranged, we went for our original reservation of a larger car with in-built GPS for 20 pounds less a day. Logical, of course. Skoda over Fiat Punto, so far so good.



Navigator, taking up the passenger seat with iPhone in hand and Google Maps linked to terminal wifi, and the driver, female of course. Great combination according to stereotypes.



Bournemouth was our target and the first part of the M3 then the M25 were a lesson in driver behaviour. Here’s me thinking it was a 60mph open road speed, and with no signs around, there were Merc’s, BMWs and even Fiat Puntos tailgating and passing me. Dangerously close at times. This, later I was to learn, was the norm. Had I actually left Auckland, or re-entered South Africa (insert other crazy driving area) again? Yet once out of the population density, and into the New Forest and coastal towns, we sighed. Courtesy (mostly) and room for bikes. That is what I remember!



That afternoon was jet lag city. And what the headache and stiff neck ordered was a swim and many strides along Bournemouth’s beachfront. Where was our promenade for bikes, walkers, joggers and wheelchairs/ walking frames in NZ? Pick your town and area perhaps.



Clare and Stuart were an absolute blast to see again. After 2 years or more since we rode from Bangkok to Ho Chi Mihn together with Exodus, it felt like yesterday.



So much chatting, and then the port came out, but sadly time had to come to a close and Cinderella and her Prince were not only turning into pumpkins and squashes but feeling so as well. Back to Alum Chine in Westbourne it was with promises of not bumping our heads on the low angular roof at night



An easy morning had to follow. After experiencing peak traffic to get to Poole’s pool, we renourished at a lazy hour then headed out westwards towards Dorchester. First stop, to Winton, centre of cheap fruit and new authentic SD cards, followed by the oldest tearooms in Dorchester served by a stereotypical Coronation street barmaid. Next stop – a beautiful lady, Maiden Newton, whom was last seen aside a signpost at a junction above the farm where the shepherd shepherded his cows, about 15 years ago, and by Halfords bike. The Counties Hospital was the introduction to UK working life, and exactly as I left it



Via a small stone circle along a hideous piece of fast paced highway, we peeled off the A road towards Lulworth cove. Weather descending, we shunned the 4 pounds for a short stay car park, headed to heavily thatched Lulworth village, and stood on a wind-blown rainy hill top to view Corf castle taking more photos. As usual, so much history! Time got on and it was a late home cooked meal again in our third floor unit, thanks to Tescos.



We bid farewell to Bournemouth’s white sandy shores the next day, not without a dunk in the fresh waters at Alum Chine, and of course P2 recorded the moment for posterity.



Navigating woes hit us that day. What a horrendously long trip we had, making about double the travel time from what was predicted by Google maps. Coming into Marlborough north of Poole kicked off the queuing, at which point when several people turned around on a heavily hedged (like all) road, and so did we.



Numerous country lanes later and we circumnavigated the whatever incident, followed by more major A roads, and eventually the M1. Avoiding the toll road was our goal, but once the red lines thickened and extended on the GPS function, we knew we were stuffed. Rolling into town at 9.30pm to our comfortable and rural apartment at Whitbarrow could not have felt better.



Greeted by a strong Jordy accent night watchman, we settled, ate late and slept very soundly until an early alarm clock the next day to see Castlerigg, with as few people as possible.



Forecast in hand, we swapped things about. Indulging in the small onsite pool/ spa/ steam room/ gym first, we headed to Castlerigg stone circle after breakfast. At 4500 years it was no newbie attraction, and the setting atop a hill outside Keswick stunning. The few insensitive tourist folk parading over the stones left after many photographs, and for a moment, we had it to ourselves.



This circle was not without damage however with visitors in the last 200 to 300 years chipping off its flakes and taking them as souvenirs. Conservation efforts started in the last 150 years evidently, and more active protection of this area made. So valuable.



Loweswater was P2s recommendation for a brief hike. Some very curly navigation again got us there, and after seeing how heaving Keswick was in the shoulder season, to be away from crowds was welcomed.



Following public rights of way along a farm trail led us into the thick forest where my eyes, ever always making sightings before P2s camera, picked up a native (to area) red squirrel and robin redbreast. Red riding hood was nowhere to be seen however, even if she could possibly have lived there.



Configuring our time, we returned to Keswick, took 15 at a café with average service, balked at the many outdoor shops competing on price, and ran an errand for women-man cosmetic to aid a bruised lip.



Fortunately, the clear weather had remained so – (nearly) a day of no rain in Cumbria! This made for a spectacular drive over the Alston Moor range to Alston highest village in the UK to see a relative of P2s for dinner. So much did driving a foreign winding road fill me with worry at night, it helped to have done one leg by the light of sunset. We were even treated to a light show of the weather kind returning home with thunder and lightning beyond Penrith. In complete darkness, ignition off, and headlights, it was incredible.



Onwards from Cumbria, we had a trip to a family gathering the next day. Passing through Appleby and Richmond, one with torrential rain which we sploshed through the puddles of, and the other bright and sunny; attractive villages nonetheless. Market day was in full swing at both, so we took 15 again for a cuppa, and got to Yorkshire district at our pre-set pub lunch date nearly on time. The 70mph makes light work of motorways, and with P2 having finally mastered the Bluetooth audio in the rental, much more musical.



Village hotel Hull, in sight of the Humber Bridge, was our home for the next few nights and unlike other hotels visited, we checked ourselves in by touch screen – this mode was to fail on us later with their pre-arrival email requests miscalculating the final fee - but easily rectified by the reception staff whom probably thought they had seen the back of this questioning tourist. Any fridge in the room? No – a first fort hotels, and so we borrowed the hotel kitchen fridge and settled in with takeaway sushi from Asda.



A lazy start was then needed and indulgent it was. P2 ran his first 4.8m by treadmill I had ever seen, and this time, it was me farewelling him (still in the gym) as I went on to the water features.



Contingencies arranged for the afternoon with extended family, we headed to the Old Hull City Centre, having a look at the Slavery museum whom a local had started the counter movement of many hundreds of years ago. William Wilberforce led a campaign against slavery in all its forms locally, quite the revolutionary of the time. Born and raised in Hull, and in this house, it was a worthwhile deviation.



Stepping out of this 350 year plus year old house with its wonky window joinery, we were accosted by the Hull city of culture volunteers into their yellow hive. Not likely to escape, this room of all things yellow delivered, as they promised in their thick Yorkshire accents, to ‘put a smile on your face’!



Over the afternoon, we got to see some stark Bridlington and eastern Yorkshire scenery on foot, driving out to Flamborough Head. Mike led us down, unsuccessfully, a muddy track to Thornwick Bay, and then Yvonne to North landing where there was an old slipway and lifeboat shed. A protected north facing cove, it was beautiful. Ending with dinner at Skirlaugh Pub, it had to be haddock. Full tummies and final goodbyes. Off we drove.



One last swim for me, and record fast treadmill run for P2, was in order the next morning, and again made my modest stroke feel positively elite amongst the sedate.



We left the Village Hotel Hull and their fridge-less rooms with instant coffee late morning. They were kindly to refund on their error of overcharging me in time, noted by me after check in. ‘Maths is not my strong point’, the reception clerk tabulating my bill said. Lucky it was mine.



Tracking down the country now via the A46, and secondary roads towards Cambridge, we had a lovely pit stop and wander in Lincoln. Boasting the formerly tallest church building in Europe, it was at least 1000 years old beginning life in the early 1000s AD and becoming consecrated in the late 11^th Century. Impressive and hard to fit into any selfie photo of the few around.



Partly fed and a little caffeinated later, we headed on to Cambridge, known for its many universities, aging buildings, and vibrant yet dedicated student life.







Passing through Clare College, one undedicated student riding his bike with plastic bags of possessions got a sharp telling off by the school master by doing so in the grounds. This guy was not to be messed with, bleeding obvious when he again caught sight of the ignorant culprit for another loud courtyard rollicking.



So on to our abode for the evening we went, staying in nearby Water beach, where neither water nor a beach exist, and comparably so to Land beach, a few kilometres away.



A hectic commute faces us on our final day with deviating in the itinerary forced on us thanks to Ryan Air and their flight cancellations, so we eventually can end up in Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Easy Jet is our Plan B. It will be the last family visit planned (Colchester) on our way, and a likely crawl by road to Gatwick Airport in the rental and peak hour. Time, time, time! We know.

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