Beaches and Brighton, but not Brighton Beach - 15/2/2008 -17/2/2008

I spent the weekend in Brighton visiting Kate, Dave and Neep in their still lukewarm but due to be cold by April house. Yes, unfortunately, they have to move in the near future.

Flights were delayed all around. One of the flight attendance on the way down kept telling us far too many things were "for our convenience" like sitting down while the plane was moving, not getting hit by falling luggage when opening the overhead bins. I arrived a little after 1am to Brighton thanks to the last Gatwick train of the day. The walk to Kate and Dave's involved an uphill climb out of Brighton town centre and dodging a typical Friday night's worth of vomit on the pavements and street, where the dodging was indeed for our convenience.

Neep wasn't exactly wide awake when we arrived, but she found the usual kitten energy reserve to go somewhat crazy soon after we arrived. Bedtime for everyone soon followed.

After a leisurely morning where Neep helped me cook breakfast (after she got her breakfast, of course), we took the slow train to Hastings and went for a walk in Hastings Country Park. Once we could find it. Food found us first, which wasn't really a bad thing. The wander through the Old Town to get to the park was

The sky was clear and the wind was roughly easterly, which meant cold Continental air but good visibility. Not quite enough visibility to see France (otherwise this post would have been titled "I saw London, I saw France"), but I don't think Hastings was well placed for that. I do think we saw that sticky outy bit just to the right of Hastings, which looks like it is called Dungeness. Kate was a big fan of all of the stairs up and down the hills.

Daylight became an issue so we cut the walk a bit short for a total of about 5 miles. After a leisurely train ride back to Brighton, food shopping and an equally leisurely but less successful wait in the cold for a lift back to theirs with said food, we got back to Kate and Dave's to make dinner. Other friends from Dave's work joined us. Much chopping, stirring and cooking prepared feast of nachos and fajitas. Sadly, the unripe avocados could not be rescued into guacamole.

The next day, we wandered Brighton at the same time as the Brighton half marathon finished, which injected a fit energy to the town centre and waterfront. We never found the appropriate friends finishing but we did find them in the pub eventually! I will confess to feeling runner envy being surrounded by all the half marathoners, but my time will come soon enough.

Dave promised a taste of Scrumpy's but never delivered. We found cider after a Mediterranean lunch, but it was not the Scrumpy that apparently destroyed Kathryn the weekend before my visit. That cider didn't agree with me, so I left an orphan when we left the pub. My train journey back to Gatwick was as eventful as every other leg of my journey to and from Brighton. I got on the slow train in the wrong direction (heading to the right place, but railworks are what they are), got on another slightly faster train at the first stop and made it to the check-in desks before the check-in time expired. Success! Except my flight wasn't on the board! Stress! I annoyed the Belfast check-in people who sent my bag and me to Edinburgh. Eventually. Along with the rest of the passengers on my flight, I got plenty of exercise trying to get to the correct gate, which moved from one end of the airport to another.

I did get back to Edinburgh with luggage, so all was well in the end. A filthy Brian collected me from the airport. He had a fun weekend, too, wallowing in cottage filth with Amy and Bram.

Kate's favourite part of the walk at Hastings Country Park was the steps leading up to it... and the steps in the middle.

The walk took us along the cliffs and the back along country lanes. We made it to the top of this cliff but took a shortcut back to finish with the daylight.

At the start and end of the walk, we found the world's biggest frisbee golf goal. I thought of Chase.

Venturing Outside Edinburgh with Rachel - 17/9/2007 - 18/9/2007

Monday was a bank holiday and Tuesday seemed a good day to take off, so I showed Rachel some interesting parts of Scotland outside of Edinburgh.

On Monday, we cycled out to Cramond. We made the first pitstop at the Shetland ponies just beside the River Almond. The babies were more shy this time around, though we did get to pet a few of them. One bit me when he got jealous of one of the other puppies. At the pony stop, the rain started spitting at us. We cycled along the River Almond, took a detour to not carry up the steps and ended at the Firth of Forth coast. The tide was in our favour so we cycled/walked to Cramond Island for a look around. Then we ventured to the Cramond Inn for lunch inside in the warm and dry. We cycled back to Brian's through a short urban stretch and then the Water of Leith, only getting lost once along the way, again attempting to avoid some stairs.

Tuesday morning, after much pouring over random forecast generators, we headed north toward Perthshire. The RFGs suggested it was most interesting place likely to stay dry. A stop at the visitor centre when the A9 traffic started stacking up yielded a useful book of nice walks in Scotland. We chose one of the Beatrix Potter walks in Birnam just across the river from Dunkeld.

The Birnam Hill summit was supposed to offer nice views of Fife, Angus and Perthshire. We got lost along the path mainly because we were attempting to do it backwards. Once on the right course, the steepness led to winded Rachel and eventually winded me. I'm more used to ups and downs. TN can be hilly, but not Scotland hilly. Some midges welcomed her as well.

We reached the first rocky overlook and could see down to Birnam and Dunkeld. An older guy with two cute puppies wasn't far behind us. One of the dogs, a Bearded Collie, seemed more muppet than dog. After some photos, including creative placement of cameras on rock, we followed the trail around to reach the true summit and its sweeping views around the countryside. A steep and then long and windy downhill brought us back down to the start, but not before Rachel found more blackberries and a few red raspberries for me.

We had a late lunch or early supper at the Atholl Arms Hotel in Dunkeld. I thanked Brian for his (well) extended family's hospitality -- the hotel menu had **choices** for me, not just chips and juice. We got back to Edinburgh about dark with a couple of good sized storms chasing us home. Our day out was well-timed!

Not the summit of Birnam Hill, but this pitstop near the top was my favourite overlook.

Rachel found more blackberries near the end of the walk.

Cavan Way – 14/4/2007

Kate’s friend Susan decided to join us for the Cavan Way, which meant that we were four instead of three and so there were four people to feed, water, house and walk from Friday evening to Sunday evening. I saw a lot of sheep in my time in Ireland. Getting organised, fed, stocked for the Cavan Way hike was a bit like herding sheep. With a blind sheep dog. Thankfully we didn’t have that far to go.

I guess it’s worth a mention that the inspiration for my week of Ireland adventures was a photo taken somewhere on the Cavan Way that I saw on a website this time a year ago.

Feeding, shopping and much driving fuelled by sugar brought us to Clancy’s of Glenfarne, our home for the evening. It put us just a few miles from the start of our walk in Blacklion. Most importantly at that moment, it was a pillow under my tired head. Brisk Errisbeg, frantic job application in Galway, Maumturks and more than 2 hours of driving because of a couple wrong turns. Tired is a good word.

Breakfast at the B&B was amusing. Porridge was good. My gluten free egg whites with cheese arrived on two large slabs of toast and were coated in bread crumbs. Joy. The porridge was good. I’m in the oats are ok gluten free camp for now, and was grateful at least something came out right. We didn’t have much luck with organising a shuttle beforehand, so Dave and I made peace with the idea of hitchhiking at the end. We headed for the start in Blacklion and we were walking before 11.

The first part of the Cavan Way followed minor roads beyond Blacklion. The general trend was up for a wee while. Tarmac was replaced by gravel which was eventually replaced by dirt track before we finally left the parts where cars might be allowed. To be fair to the trail, I don’t recall any cars driving past on this stretch.

Soon, we were properly off road, wandering through fields and being eyed up by sheep. The trail wandered across fields and through the woods. We came to one open area and a dirt road, probably a logging road, that was well signposted with all of the side trips we could do to see relics and ruins. The trail took us back into the woods, where eventually, we made our first wrong turn of the day. Our signposts were yellow on brown. We started following the signposts that were yellow on beige. The end result was us standing on another logging road wondering where we were and, more importantly, where our signposts were. My compass and map came in handy. We wandered back into the woods, found an ancient hut site, found another wrong trail (that we thought was right) and followed it back to that same dirt road. My compass and map came in handy again. We aimed for the nearest village, a couple of houses and a church at a junction, and found ourselves reunited with the correct trail.

The trail took us along paved road for a wee while. As soon as it exited to fields, we found a nice lunch spot just near the Shannon Pot. Another group of walkers passed us as we were about to move on.

Picking up the trail again, we wandered toward forest, along it and then through it. The woods were thick and the resulting squelches were, too. The best part of trail to follow was the rockiest. We sank the least there. Dave and I were out ahead at this point. Kate and Susan lingered behind. Susan with her shiny new camera had a habit of bringing up the rear of the group. Still, she got a nice photo of me using Dave as a tripod, trying to get a photo of her and Kate entering the woods. My camera doesn’t focus well in darkness, so Dave’s head was a very useful tripod.

On the other side of the woods, we found a collection of picnic tables. Our picnic spot was better.

The trail took us back on paved road for a wee while. Kate demonstrated her rural Irish skills and herded a cow back into its field. The cow’s farmer made some overtures to help and then drove off on his tractor.

The trail alternated from on road to off road two or three more times, and each time gave us some quality squelching. Occasionally, the trail got lost among the mud, but following the River Shannon always helped us to find it again. At one point, I saw my first bull up close and personal as we walked across its field. Thankfully, he couldn’t care less about us.

The last few kilometres started to take their toll on us. My feet were sick of their boots, but otherwise I was fine. Kate’s one stick approach and favouritism for one achy ankle created an achy knee in the other leg. I don’t remember what Dave and Susan’s aches were, if any. I think part of why Dave kept pace with me was because that meant done sooner. A darkish cloud and a slight pressure drop suggested rain might be on the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t in a rush. We came to the junction with the main road into Dowra and could see the hint of the trail’s end up ahead. One wee hill remained. Dave and I waited at the junction for Susan and Kate to catch up before wandering into town.

The end of the trail signified the beginning of a new adventure for Dave and me, hitchhiking back to Blacklion. I was the driver, but no way was I hitchhiking alone. Over thirty minutes of patience and tolerance of one cheeky local, finally we caught a ride a bit more than halfway to the main road. The driver was a really nice, really country guy. I understood about ¾ of what he said. Thankfully, Dave understood more. They got to talking about holidays and the guy complained about his honeymoon to Boston and New York. I said now probably wasn’t the best time to say I’m from New York. He laughed.

We were in the car around 10-15 minutes when he got to where he was going and dropped us off. We passed his brother’s house and I think a cousin’s house along the way. We thanked him and started walking/hitching again. Forty-five minutes later, with the N16 in sight, we got picked up again. We wondered if it was one of that guy’s brothers. This guy took us all the way to Blacklion. I understood only about ½ of what he said. Something about cairns along the roadside. I didn’t see cairns though, so I questioned my hearing. Arriving in Blacklion, we thanked him, retrieved the car and retrieved Kate and Susan from the pub in Dowra.

Rather than return to our B&B from the previous night, we aimed for Sligo. Along the way, Kate reported a potentially drunk driver to the Garda and I got breathalysed by the Garda coming into Sligo. I blamed her.

Our Sligo hostel for the evening turned out to be an Episcopal Missionary. We ate dinner at the same Indian restaurant where I got takeaway for my Wednesday picnic and decided to delay the celebratory drink until the next day when it might not put us to sleep immediately. Perhaps we should have gotten into the alcohol because nobody slept particularly well at the hostel. None of us were enticed by the showers the next morning, so we decided to revel in our stink for the drive back to Cork. We took a picnic lunch in Ennis because no restaurants open for Sunday lunch were Christine-friendly. The return to Cork was celebrated by a meal we cooked ourselves. Tardy but welcome celebratory drinks followed to toast our success and enjoyment of the Cavan Way.