Castle In The Sky, Monda, Andalusia

On February 24, 2024 By Sharon TickleIn Andalusia, Monda, Travel3 Comments

We’ve unwittingly exchanged one UNESCO World Heritage site for another, from Lakeland to the Parque Nacional Sierra de las Nieves, the UNESCO Biosphere Reserve in Southern Spain.

In Sintra we swore off UNESCO sites altogether as they are so crowded with people like us – tourists – but we keep stumbling into them. With 1,199 locations and rising I guess it’s not surprising.

This is Stuart’s week, and as usual, he researched exhaustively before settling on Hotel Castillo de Monda in the Andalusian village of Monda in the mountains above Marbella (closest airport Málaga). His track record in Spain is good, Las Chimeneas in the Alpujarras two years ago was a great success. This time he hit the jackpot.

The renovated 9th century castle first known as Al Mundat perches on the highest point of the whitewashed village with steep slopes on all sides. Stones of the castle have witnessed human occupation by waves of Muslim and Christian invaders until it finally fell into ruins and stood empty for 400 years. The site was privately purchased and building began in the 1970s before stalling for several more decades. Most recently three Dutch hospitality entrepreneurs bought and thoughtfully renovated the castle into a striking four star hotel which opened in 2016. It feels like a mini Alhambra, airy and relaxed, imbuing an ineffable sense of bien-être.

Our room has a large four-poster bed and mudéjar style fittings and tiles, with a large sunny balcony overlooking the tower. Immaculate gardens lead down to an azure salt water swimming pool. It’s unheated and judging by the effect on my skin the water can’t be more than 10 degrees Celsius.

We’re in residence for seven nights bed and breakfast. We’d planned on self-guided e-biking until the rental supplier let us down, ‘new bikes have not arrived’, so Shanks pony it is for now. Not great for Stuart’s dodgy knee, however he’s managed three longish hikes, two of four hours, without ill effects.

The first, towards Istán, joined up with a literal goat track. We heard approaching bells and gawked as a shepherdess and her three dogs herded about 500 goats down a steep slope and up the hill to join us on our trail.

The second, a loop from Monda to Guaro and back, combines a long distance walking trail and a mountain bike track. It took us along ridgetops with panoramic views and down valleys beside flowering and fruiting almond and olive groves. Pale almond petals showered the track like gentle pink rain. The last section follows an original Roman road with large stones worn smooth by the tramp of feet and hooves.

Both days the only annoyance was the frequent presence of menacing guard dogs (why always three hounds?), all mercifully contained. I mentally rehearsed my ninja backpack moves should any escape and attack us.

Unlike sleepy Guaro, Monda village has a few lively bars and restaurants but none open at night during winter. La Luna cafe-bar by the ancient laundry is the best spot for eavesdropping on shouty Andalusian conversations and watching the passing parade of cyclists, octagenarians and tractors. Los Carboneros bar-restaurant by the statue memorialising generations of charcoal makers was the ideal spot for a late lunch post hike.

Now we have a rental banger to explore Marbella, Tolox and the coast. Stuart braved the wheel on the wrong side of the road with a stick shift. He resolutely keeps his eyes on the road which is fine, but means he has no idea what speed he is doing. In addition to navigating my job is to tell him to slow down!

For a city mired in corruption for decades Marbella’s old town centre around the Alameda and Plaza de los Naranjos and sea front seems to be surprisingly well maintained and very tidy. After a coffee in Plaza Victoria, window shopping and a visit to the Church of Carmen it was a time for a pre-prandial and more people watching. Dutch and English are overwhelmingly the most common languages, but we found an Italian run bar on the promenade serving the prettiest Aperol Spritz.

Restaurant La Terraza, one floor up, overlooking the beach was a top spot for lunch. Their 15 euro three course set menu is good value. Our Dutch neighbours, an elderly couple, reminisced about when they owned a time share apartment in the building housing the restaurant. They holidayed there for thirty years and sold it recently, staying instead down the coast in Fuengirola. Their adult offspring are sadly no longer inclined to vacation with their parents, preferring winter ski hllidays. Aaaah kids!

Heading into the hills once more we tackled the 11k Sendero de las Cascadas above Tolox. It’s been a dry winter hence waterfalls are much reduced, but we climbed 600 metres with vast views and even managed to walk half an hour without hearing or seeing any indicators of civilisation. For the first time we encountered wildlife; a slim, patterned snake basking on the trail, a long line of fuzzy caterpillars and a couple of lizards. Then we happened on more goats noisily foraging on our track!

Today Stuart was keen to cycle east along the coast from Málaga town centre. Unfortunately today was designated a farmers’ mass protest day. Police closed the centre to traffic to allow a convoy of honking tractors and backhoes to drive by cheering crowds. Like their counterparts in France and Italy, Andalusian farmers are demanding more flexibility from the EU regulators, more control of Non-EU producers who farmers say are undercutting them, and greater government assistance in a time of high fuel prices and ongoing drought.

After a short delay we were on our rental bikes and off for a 30k round trip punctuated by lunch at a seafood restaurant where Stuart’s desire for a plate of white bait was satisfied. The few scenic sections of rocky coastine and a bicycle path through tunnels were pleasant, but overall I find Málaga’s beaches depressing. The dirty brown sand and rocks graded by machine hardly warrant the descriptor of ‘beach’ for this spoilt Australian.

One final lazy day in the sunshine lapping up castle life then we head our separate ways for a bit. Stuart flies to the UK for business meetings and rugby viewing with Charles, then some cycling with Jean-Louis, while I train it to Jerez de la Frontera for, you guessed it, the 28th Flamenco Festival fortnite! Hasta luego!

The Lake District, Cumbria, England

On February 17, 2024February 17, 2024 By Sharon TickleIn The Lake District, Travel2 Comments

It feels like we just got home from our last trip but snow and flamenco call so we are back in Europe starting with a family reunion. Edinburgh is a great city in all aspects of the adjective, however we were looking for a three generation family rural vacation somewhere new to us. It’s been 45 years since Stuart visited The Lake District and I have never been.

As it was Edinburgh half-term holidays (I am still getting used to having school age grandchildren) I booked five nights in a family room plus a double room at Embleton Spa Hotel, Embleton, near Keswick in the north western section of The Lake District. It’s the less populated, less popular section of UNESCO World Heritage listed The English Lake District, but still beautiful countryside and blessedly quiet in February.

The hotel sounds rather grand but it isn’t. A family-style, dog-friendly three star establishment, I chose it for its indoor heated swimming pool and a reasonable room rate that includes a hearty cooked breakfast. I figured we would have a pleasant start to every day no matter the weather outside (temps ranged from 4-8 degrees celsius). This proved exactly right. Five-year-old Ms E and I swam every morning, usually before breakfast. Mummy or Daddy would join us sometimes and Pop Pop went to the gym. We’d congregate for a multi-course slow breakfast before braving the chilly, and often rainy countryside.

We were lucky in having niece Rosie and her family close by visiting Neil’s mother in Cockermouth. We managed two family gatherings, including an outing to Lingholm Kitchen and Gardens. Lingholm house and gardens was Beatrix Potter’s holiday house for twenty summers of her life. The gardens were the artistic stimulus for Mrs Tiggwinkle. The estate has created Mr McGregor’s Garden complete with glasshouse, but the winter planting is rather sad looking.

It was a soggy outing to Lingholm but fun!

Two other successful family outings were to Whinlatter Forest Park with its Gruffalo Trail and Wild Walk for children and lovely Lake Buttermere.

At Buttermere Ms E opted to play by the stream and lake edge with Mummy while Tristan, Stuart and I perambulated the five miles around the lake. The still water looked inviting but I hadn’t come prepared to swim. It’s a popular wild swimming spot but no one braved it on the day we were there. The water never warms up as it is constantly replenished by snow melt.

Lunch at Sykes Farm featured hot pies made on the premises and homemade ice cream. Apparently it’s never too cold for ice cream in Cumbria.

On another very wet day when Tristan needed to work in the room, Ms E and Mummy spent several happy hours in the Keswick Pencil Museum while Stuart and I caught up on correspondence, reading and napping!

A trip into Keswick for lunch and shopping was another highlight. You can do a lot of damage to your credit card in Keswick’s multitude of classy outdoor wear shops. I restrained myself to restocking my travel library at the brilliant Bookends.

Now we’re on the move again. Tristan and family just dropped us at Penrith North Lakes Train Station to catch the Transpennine Express train to Glasgow for our flight to Malaga this afternoon. We’ll be back in Edinburgh for a proper farewell in a month’s time.

Around The World: Post Script

On January 16, 2024January 16, 2024 By Sharon TickleIn Travel4 Comments

Our decision to return home early proved fortuitous on three fronts. My actual dagnosis of Shingles was confirmed by my GP on arrival.

There never was any colitis – it was all neuralgia pain from an intercostal nerve. The blisters that eventually tracked from my spine to my belly button were and still are spectacular. I should have had more pisco sours and delicious Chilean wine to dull the pain!

Of course it was too late to treat with an anti-viral medication (that ameliorates but does not cure) however a course of prednisone has helped manage the pain and burning of the lesions.

Added to that Stuart’s dry cough, which he thought was caused by crumbs in his throat, was actually covid19. That first symptom appeared at Santiago Airport and by the time we arrived home – a 46 hour journey – he had full blown respiratory covid and therefore went straight into isolation at home. I tested negative and remained so. He has made a full recovery under my excellent care. We would have had to cancel all our Mendoza excursions.

Finally, we watched in dismay as Argentina’s new anarcho-capitalist President deregulated the currency such that it devalued by 50 per cent, instituted cutbacks and imposed austerity measures causing mass protests. We were glad not to be in Argentina at such a time.

We delayed our 43rd wedding anniversary celebration a week so that we could actually sit down for a meal at the same table.

What I learned from this travel experience is that patients need firm, informed health advocates. The pain made me too quick to accept what the four doctors I saw said (Costa Rica paramedic, Chile A&E x2, and a telemedicine video-call to a GP in Australia). Not one of them actually did a full examination or history. If they had asked me to lift my shirt and turn around they would likely have seen the beginnings of the lesions near my spine. Shingles is frequently misdiagnosed, so much so it should be top of a physician’s mind.

Case in point: I was so distracted by discomfort on the day Stuart did his big excursion that I mistakenly dosed myself with eye drops instead of the colitis medication! Only realised when I had emptied the bottle….

Of course we have not been put off travel. On the contrary, now that the holidays are over we are in the thick of planning Euro 2024 starting in Edinburgh in early February!

We had family stay from Xmas well into the New Year – huge fun had by all.

Around The World Part Five: Patagonia

On December 19, 2023December 19, 2023 By Sharon TickleIn Patagonia, Travel1 Comment

By Stuart Elliott

Ever since I saw a Michael Palin documentary of his train journey through mountainous areas of South America, I have wanted to emulate his amazing adventures. Back in 2013 we motorcycled sections of the Pan American Highway and up into the Peruvian Andes on dirt roads. That week- long trip only whetted my appetite. Ever since I have wanted to return to ride through Patagonia.

Much talk, but no action later, and fleeting contact on a motorcycle 6 months ago with an out of control truck in the Italian Alps, life has moved on. The great two week 2000 km Patagonia motorcycle adventure morphed into a five night stay at Weskar Lodge in Puerto Natales in Chile with a series of tours by mini van, boat and foot.

Intrepid Pan American tourers staying at our lodge.

Dogs chasing bikes are one of the biggest hazards.

Day 1 saw us exploring downtown Puerto Natales; a small town on the edge of the Fjord Ultima Esperanza (Fjord of Last Hope). Some Iberian explorer dude, (Editor’s note: Magellan – Stuart is too dismissive) a couple of centuries ago, was hoping to open up a trade route by finding a passage to avoid sailing around Cape Horn. He anticipated a mutiny if he failed to find the passage. This was his last hope! He failed, but fortunately for him did find it soon after, narrowly avoiding going for his ultimo short walk on a plank and a cold swim.

The town exists on tourism, and whilst the view across the fjord is pretty, the town is not particularly so; consisting of old very draughty looking wood and fibro structures mixed in with higher tech modern constructions. A kind of Wild West town meets Norwegian fishing village.

Next day Sharon continued to be unwell, it’s blowing a gale, cold and the only tour option, we are not already booked on, is horse riding. Sharon is allergic to nags so we opt to rest and visit the pharmacy again.

Day 3 starts at 04.30 with a visit to the local recently built hospital emergency department. Blood tests are required but not until after our tour to the Torres del Paine Park is due to start. Sadly Sharon opts to stay, revisit the hospital and walk to the super expensive Singular Hotel, which looks like a converted factory, which is not surprising because that’s what it was, and nothing has changed externally. Inside it has become luxe with a minimum stay of 3 nights full board costing US$3600.

I do the tour by van and foot, accompanied by the lovely and very well educated women, M and A from San Francisco who were Stamford University colleagues until A retired. Esplendido! We listened attentively to our well-informed and entertaining guide, Simon, for ten hours and fifteen minutes. I manage to recall about one percent of his discourse. Apparently the average is ten percent. That would be right. Hence lots of photos follow with few captions. Highlights were…
-3 condors on a distant peak. -Herd of running guanaco. -Sundry birds of prey.
-The towers of Torres del Paine. -The Lago Gray waterfall.
-The caves, Cueva del Milodon, 200 m deep, 80 wide and 20 high with artefacts from 10k years ago.
-The blue iceberg floating in the Lago Gray.

Torres del Pain tour plus Milodon Cave and Extinct Giant sloth.

I consumed Sharon’s untouched packed lunch for dinner. It’s been two days since she last ate. The hotel bar is doing a roaring trade in Sprite, and mint tea to keep up her blood sugar level.

Weskar Lodge is an easy 1.5k walk into town. Comfy, great views and caring staff. Room 23 is a good one.

Much time then spent working out how to cancel our Mendoza trip to return home early.

The following day Sharon was determined to not miss out, so despite the piercing pain in her abdomen, and with a hot water bottle strapped to her stomach, we both motor sailed up the last hope fjord in search of a glacier in Bernardo O’Higgins Park. We were well rewarded. Balmaceda Glacier was clearly visible from the boat. Then, after a short walk from a jetty we ended up 150 m or so from the tongue of hanging Serrano Glacier. Whilst admiring the beauty of the delicate local flora there was a sudden almighty cracking noise as a part of the glacier shifted into a more comfortable position. This happened twice within a few minutes.

May 21 Tour Company’s Steel Motor Catamaran day trip up the Last Hope Fiord. The ice in the whisky is glacial of course!

A four course lunch accompanied by Chilean wine (soup and water for Sharon) was enjoyed at Estancia Perales followed by a short cruise home.

The next day we awoke to a wind free blue sky day but medical issues and slothfulness ensured that we aborted the planned eight hour trek up to the base of the Torres del Paines. Instead we strolled into town for yet another visit to the pharmacist, Colona tea room and an excellent lunch (soup again for Sharon) at Santollo Restaurant. Later we had a delightful and chatty final dinner with Merger and Aquisitions. Hopefully one or both of these interesting women will visit us in Broken Head.

Colona Tea Room, Wild Cafe and Santolla are all recommended plus a typical Puerto Natales free range dog on the highway.

We departed the following morning into a clear blue sky hoping this would not be our ultima vieja to this beautiful part of our world.

The start of the slow journey home. Bit pi$$ed off as they took our hand luggage and put in the hold because the first lot of passengers had too much stuff!

PS This is the final blog of this trip. I would like to put on the record how grateful I am that Stuart really stepped up to help me when I was in pain. As I am sure many of you know, pain can be overwhelming. It leaves little to no room for anything else. My condition was actually colitis caused by Shingles, the rash only appeared later. Being vaccinated clearly does not stop the virus popping out again if you have had Chickenpox. Clearly I got overstressed at some point in the journey.

Around The World Part Four: Chasing Sloths in Costa Rica

On December 17, 2023December 18, 2023 By Sharon TickleIn Costa Rica, Travel1 Comment

Make a cuppa and buckle in, this is a long one!

Joining a group tour is a lottery, just like crewing with strangers. I’ve had my share of that lucky dip on many sailing trips with generally happy results. And I was fortunate with my solo G Adventures overland trip in Southern Africa in 2011. Then I travelled budget-style with a bunch of friendly young folk. I thought it was worth another shot.

I also had AUD200 credit with G Adventures from a Costa Rica tour I had booked for myself many years ago that fell foul of life that happens when you are making other plans.

Stuart was slightly leery of going to Costa Rica. He kept confusing it with Puerto Rico and until we actually booked the flights I seriously don’t think he knew where he was going. He’s always been a ‘needs basis’ kind of guy and since this was my destination choice he was content to just go with the flow.

Our guided tour, Costa Rica Quest, would be nine nights, starting and ending in the capital, San José. We would loop north to La Fortuna, even further north to St Elena in Monteverde, then south west to coastal Quepos on the Pacific Ocean.

Costa Rica is only the size of pancake flat Netherlands, but its mountainous topography and roads rebuilt and repaired after every wet season make bus trips much longer than google maps suggest. Our group of 16 plus guide travelled in a different small bus with different driver for each leg of the trip.

The trip was structured with only a few pre-paid tours and one lunch allowing people to choose their own adventures in each location and eat according to their preference and budget. Costa Rica is unusual in that large groups can pay for food and drink individually at the cashier at the conclusion of the meal. It’s an honesty system that works well.

Stuart and I moved into the mediocre tour hotel the night before the road trip began and met our fellow travellers (those whose flights had not been delayed) and guide, Daniel, at a ‘getting to know you’ dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant. Everything goes better with margaritas, beer and tacos. By the end of the dinner we could put names to faces and felt confident we were in good hands with exuberant, walking wikipedia Daniel Fernandez as our Chief Experience Officer (G speak).

By the 7:50am departure we had our full complement of travellers, a balanced mix of people from 26 to 72 (Stuart) with quite a few from Toronto (G headquarters), UK, and the US plus one Austrian woman. I was the only Aussie (this becomes important later).

San José to La Fortuna:

The first photo op was La Paz Waterfall right by the roadside. A male, long-nosed koati, a member of the raccoon family, scrounged for food amongst the cars and tourists and tried to hop onto our bus.

Next stop was an hourlong guided coffee tour followed by lunch at Mi Cafecito, a cooperative coffee bean processing plant, shop and cafe run by 24 small, local growers supported by G Adventures. We learned that it takes 12kg of hand picked red coffee fruits to make 1kg of arabica coffee. It’s backbreaking work paid by weight.

We are all coffee nerds now, or at least know how to distinguish between the three grades of coffee. There is a reason Starbucks coffee tastes like crap. Several of us won extra large glasses of coffee liqueur (delicious) for answering pop quiz questions correctly. That plus a glass of homemade cane sugar moonshine guaranteed a nap after lunch.

Suddenly the bus pulled off the road and the word went out, our driver had spotted a sloth high in trees across the road. Sinead from the UK was beside herself with excitement. It’s amazing no one got hit by a car as we all scrambled to see our first three-toed sloth. Daniel educated us on Costa Rican sloths, dispelling any romantic notions of cuddly creatures. Sloths are special in our family because our firstborn granddaughter took her very first steps walking towards her favourite toy, a plush sloth held out by her mum.

Sloth number one on the move.

By 2pm we were in La Fortuna which sits at the base of the Arenal Volcano. Still active, it last erupted in 1968 wiping out three villages on the opposite side killing 87 people. The summit is perpetually in cloud and steam.

Geothermal springs create hot spots in local streams and rivers and several resorts and business have opened hot springs.

La Fortuna (named for the natural abundance of the area) is a tidy town wrapped around a pretty central park. Our group spent some time at a local tour agency sipping more moonshine cocktails and booking our extra tours for next day. Costa Rica is like New Zealand in offering all manner of adrenaline activities. Our focus was wildlife so the ‘safari float’ sounded the best option. You don’t see much besides the rushing river on a white water river run and nothing but trees from a zipline.

I was happy to spend the afternoon by the pool at our hotel and was just finishing my laps when Stuart called me over to see a sloth hanging from a tree behind our hotel room. Two sloths on day one! In fact if you walked quietly around the garden there was plenty to see, including hummingbirds and a long trail of leaf cutter ants decimating a plant.

Five of us opted for the Peñas Blancas River float next morning, Gouri and Deb, a couple from Canada, and Natalie a young Canadian woman travelling solo. Our guide Aurelio had kayaked and rafted with his Dad since he was five years old. Although he would tell us to paddle a couple of strokes now and then we were clearly redundant as he could control the inflatable by himself.

The river water was clean with a fairly swift current but no rapids. We had just set off when we saw our first kingfisher. Thereafter every few minutes someone would call attention to something interesting.

The rarest sighting was of three neotropical river otters, two small ones and one large that quickly slipped into the river from the mudbank.

Next it was an osprey flying just above the river, a lizard held tight in its talons. Fun fact, osprey (unlike eagles) hold prey longways with opposite grips to improve flight areodynamics.

Our haul for the morning was two iguanas, one white-faced monkey, six howler monkeys, two cormorants, two tiger herons, a hawk, two ahingas, three toucans (in flight – black with yellow beak), three red-legged honeycreepers, six sandpipers, wrens, finches, countless swallows, and whilst not spotted, we heard woodpeckers and the loud clapping sound the white-collared manakin bird makes with its throat as it tries to attract a mate.

Two hours passed in a flash. We all agreed we could have happily floated all the way to Nicaragua.

Morning coffee and cakes at Milagro’s home and waterside cafe was enlivened by birds flocking around plantains spiked on nearby bushes. We saw flycatchers, several types of hummingbirds, a black bird with a red diagonal strip across its front, Golden Hooded Tanagers and lots of owl and yellow butterflies.

Milagro’s bird feeder.

Milagro’s yucca and banana cakes and fried plantain.

We bought a package for Los Lagos Resort and Hot Springs plus dinner and transfers and teamed up with Gouri and Deb. Since all of us have lived in Japan and experienced rotenburos we were disappointed with the artificial style of the springs. They seem aimed at people who aspire to sit in tepid water drinking umbrella decorated cocktails, or plunge down water slides. We climbed to the highest and therefore hottest pool and had a few means peace before a large group (in all senses of the word) Germans arrived.

In the interests of research I did try the longest slide, a full twenty seconds at high speed that runs through a black tunnel towards the end and dumps you in a cold pool. I forgot to cross my legs and close my eyes….

La Fortuna to St Elena, Monteverde:

To avoid unsealed, winding roads over the mountain range we took a bus ride, a boat across Lake Arenal (a dammed reservoir) and another bus through rolling green hills and ridge tops to St Elena for two nights. At only 500 metres elevation the temperature dropped five degrees and clouds and rain rolled in. Since we were here to experience the cloud forest we were well prepared.

Our G Adventure tour included the Kinkaju Night Walk. Split into two groups we were handed torches and followed our guide down dirt trails into a reserve. I can confidently assert that without a guide we would have spotted nothing. They talked to each other with walkie talkies passing on the location of birds, insects and other creatures.

Our guide, Joaquin, was a tad bossy. He would direct us to stand in a particular spot as close together as possible, train his scope on something then enlighten us as to what we should be looking at. Sometimes it was just the backside of a bird asleep high up in a tree. One of our group gave Joaquin their phone and he snapped close ups. At one point by a stream we were trying to see a tiny frog when clouds of mosquitos surrounded us.

Bark Scorpion luminescing under black light.

I was a bit surprised that guides were allowed to use a stick to attract tarantulas out of their holes. These spiders are almost blind so rely heavily on vibrations. I think it’s stressful for them and felt sad to see this was typical guide behaviour.

We were only back in our room a few minutes when I saw a whatsapp group message for help from two young women on our tour. They had a ‘huge’ bug in their room so could someone please come urgently.

Daniel didn’t respond straight away so I volunteered to assist. What I found was a large cricket very happy to be relocated by the old ‘piece of paper and a glass’ method. That simple act sealed my reputation as an Aussie animal wrangler.

Next morning we all went on the Aventura Hanging Bridges guided walk. This takes you from tree to tree, across wire mesh walkways and for the final bridge, a climb up inside a giant ficus.

In the afternoon while the adrenaline junkies were leaping, horse riding and flying about Stuart and I went on a private guided tour of Curi-Cancha Nature Reserve with Javier.

I put his age at about 28 and honestly if we didn’t already have two sons we would have tried to adopt him. It was such a pleasant and informative experience to walk slowly and quietly through cloud forest. At one point a French guided group came close to see what we were looking at. I suggested to Javier that we might try to lose them and he responded, ‘Of course! I can’t stand the French, they’re so loud’. Not what I was expecting, but we did thereafter manage to be on our own.

He made the life stories of the insects and birds we saw fascinating.

St Elena to Quepos:

Our last stopover was two nights at Quepos on the Pacific Ocean. The temperature climbed from 10 to 25 degrees in one day!

At our rest stop en route we strolled onto the bridge across the Tarcoles River mouth. Lying on the mud or floating in the shallows were seven huge crocodiles. Daniel said he had seen up to 40 there previously.

The highlight of Quepos, apart from its proximity to beaches, is the Manuel Antonio National Park which we would be seeing next day. It’s the smallest of Costa Rica’s parks so visitor numbers are tightly controlled.

Scarlet Macaws by the roadside outside Quepos.

But first we had a free afternoon and on Daniel’s advice booked a mangrove tour by kayak followed by dinner. Stuart was hesitant to venture onto the water after seeing the crocs but I persuaded him it would be ok in a group.

The guide and part owner of the business, Dennis, collected six of us for the short drive to a canal next to a sugar cane plantation. A cursory kayaking tutorial, a liberal spray of insect repellant, valuables put into Dennis’ dry bag, and life jackets on and we were on the water. The canal was being dredged as we paddled out to a tributary and the mangrove forest proper.

Maybe because I grew up on mangrove banked Brisbane River this environment was rather like my own backyard so not hugely impressive. It was fun to paddle and Dennis claims he saw a ‘five foot’ crocodile by the river’s edge that disappeared before any of us could spot it.

We could smell the sweet honey scent of the naturalised Indian Almond Tree on the river and later at the besch.

There was some excitement when a juvenile Jesus Christ lizard ran across the river after we startled it. They really do walk on water.

I got a bit cranky with Dennis on our hasty return (the sun was setting) as we had to wait in the dark for fifteen minutes while someone fetched Dennis’ car keys and we got munched by mozzies. All the bug sprays were locked in the car. Dinner was also perfunctory and mediocre. Overall not recommended.

By contrast our short walk through the national park was brilliant. Sloths, monkeys, koati and iguanas every few metres.

The mighty, sacred Ceiba Tree worshipped by Incas.

I love that no plastic or food is allowed in the park. The snack bar by the entrance is caged and is the only food outlet in the park. It didn’t however stop a cheeky capuchin trying to ferret out edibles from our group’s belongings on the beach.

The two beaches in the park truly are pristine.

We left two of our number in Quepos as they were staying in the north for a few more days. It felt like family saying our goodbyes. Strangers nine days earlier, we had come to rely on each other, enjoyed each other’s company and shared some mind blowing experiences plus so many videos and photos! I will miss our whatsapp group when it inevitably winds down. There is serious talk of a Toronto reunion next May. It would be wonderful to see that happen but sadly we won’t be there. Hopefully we will see some of them at Gypsy Hill one day.

Quepos to San José

With our farewell Mexican meal behind us we moved back to La Sabana Hotel and Suites for our final night in Costa Rica and I had to face the fact that all was not well with my insides. No, not what you are thinking, this was a constant abdominal pain under my ribs on the left side without the usual traveller symptoms.

It hadn’t eased 48 hours later, in fact it was worsening. Stuart was lounging by the pool reading his hotel book swap selection, but I couldn’t imagine flying in my condition so I asked the receptionist if I could have a doctor come to the hotel (I had seen the long queues outside the city hospital). She said, ‘Yes, no problem’. I swear it was less then fifteen minutes later that she rang back to check if the doctor could come up. In marched two smartly uniformed medicos, one a physician and the other a paramedic carrying an ECG monitor and all manner of kit.

The doctor took a thorough history and examined me, all in English, and ran an ECG (normal). She diagnosed acute colitis then whipped out a zippered nylon case containing countless clear plastic pockets of labelled medications. Choosing three for me she wrote the drug names and doses down so I could buy more at the pharmacy and left as swiftly as she came. No fee. Impressive public medicine!

When Stu came back to the room he was tasked with getting the medications and I tried to will myself into a suitable state to travel next day. Patagonia was calling!

A happy memory! Carmen offered me fresh coconut juice on the way into Manuel Antonio and I promised to buy on the way out. So good!

Around The World Part Three: San José, Costa Rica

On December 9, 2023December 16, 2023 By Sharon TickleIn Costa Rica, San José, Travel5 Comments

Never write drunk. That’s a rule I set myself in 2011 and I’ve stuck to it ‘til now, but as we seem to be addicted to Costa Rica’s Imperial beer there are few meals not accompanied by an alcoholic beverage. Don’t panic, I won’t publish pi$$ed. One round of two-for-one happy hour mojitos tonight was my limit. Hemmingway would scoff!

We’re close to the end of our Costa Rica ‘taster’ tour which is well worth celebrating. Let’s go back ten days to where it started, San José.

As an introduction to Central American travel we are now spoilt for life. The San José international airport is new, clean and efficient. Large video screens remind visitors of local laws prohibiting selfies with animals. Public toilets are spotless and whilst drivers tend to the Italian style we only witnessed two minor bingles. Oh, and you can drink the water straight from the tap!

Our airport metered taxi ride got stuck in traffic so it was a slow trip to La Sabana Hotel and Suites close to La Sabana green space but usually it’s less than thirty minutes.

La Sabana Hotel and Suites is a little pearl of a family-owned budget hotel run on the simple premise of ‘the customer comes first’. All staff, apart from the pool guy, are women and seem to have permanent smiles on their faces. We never found any hotel in Costa Rica that came close to La Sabana for amenities and service.

Xmas decorations were already up December 1.

We had two nights before we joined our G Adventures tour group in another hotel (which shall be nameless) a block away. Ample time to see some of the top sights of San José starting with the Central Market.

Of the many markets I have visited none has quite the odd jumble of vendors in narrow alleys as this one. Fresh flowers next to a pet/animal shop with cages of tiny brown mice, guinea pigs, rabbits etc….next to a fresh meat stall next to a souvenir stall.

Security staff seemed to be stationed at every corner and most were actually not looking at their phones.

We stopped at one of several cafes for our second excellent Costa Rican coffee of the day and watched familes tucking into brunch and fancy fruit smoothies.

This cafe had customers queued around the block.

The National Theatre of Costa Rica is a piece of architecture Costa Ricans are rightfully proud of. We bought a ticket on site for the first tour of the day which was led by actor-tour guide Andrés.

With his movie star looks and toned physique Andrés should have been starring in a telenovela instead of educating English-speaking tourists.

Built during 1891 – 1897 when the country’s population was only 20,000 to plans by an Italian architect and overseen by an Italian engineer, this neo-classical style 1,140 seat theatre has been the venue of most of the significant cultural and political moments in Costa Rica’s modern history. It is the main venue for ballet, classical music and visiting dignitaries and every new President of Costa Rica celebrates their election there.

It houses the most marble classical statues and gold leaf roccoco relief features I have seen since Vienna.

The Alma Cafe inside the foyer is open to the public and serves home-grown traditional drip coffee. Stuart recommends their pecan tart.

Costa Rica’s National Art Museum is housed in the repurposed original airport buildings. It has free entry to its two floors of exibits.

The permanent exhibit by Adrián Arguedas Ruano is not to my taste, but the temporary exhibit of Flora Saénz Langlois’ fantastical feminised, lush nature paintings were interesting. Her work has the flavour of a ‘happy Frida’.

Now it was time to leave the sophistication of San José and join the 14 other ‘Costa Rica Quest’ travellers to head north in search of the country’s famous wildlife and natural beauty.

Iberika restaurant across the road from La Sabana serves delicious Spanish tapas and raciones.

We were fascinated with the electrical and telecomms wiring.

Around The World Part Two: Winter in New York, 2023

On December 1, 2023December 16, 2023 By Sharon TickleIn New York, TravelLeave a comment

Disembarking 2,500 passengers from the Queen Mary 2 took about three hours. Even passengers continuing on to the Caribbean and not taking a day excursion have to be processed by US immgration in the huge Ocean Terminal by Pier 12.

Our designated slot was 10:10am. We dutifully joined a long, orderly queue. Stamped into the US by a young, handsome immigration office from central casting with impeccable manners, no customs or quarantine check was required. We were free and clear.

The taxi queue was more daunting. Instead we waited on the quay for the hourly ferry to Wall Street wharf giving us a parting view of QM2 as she was being pumped out and reprovisioned.

A quick yellow taxi ride uptown brought us to west 46th Street. So far so easy. Our driver didn’t know of our boutique hotel so he dropped us as near as possible to 460, the street number on the booking. We walked 450-470 twice before spotting the teeny tiny entrance to Scherman Hotel overshadowed by restaurant Tito Murphy (the two establishments are owned and managed jointly).

Check-in was at 3pm and it was only 1pm. No problem, we were in the middle of Restaurant Row, lunch it is!

Across the road I noticed a minibus load of Italian speakers thronging around Becco. The restaurant looked smart from the outside so we chanced it. I believe we were the only non-Italian speakers there. It felt like dining in a classy Tuscan restaurant with snappily dressed wait staff in blue and white check skintight shirts, white linen tablecloths and napkins and oil landscape paintings.

Their Sunday lunch fixed price menu included a grilled vegetable and seafood starter, or Caesar Salad, and a main course of ‘all you can eat’ three fresh pasta dishes, all delicious (according to Stuart).

A couple of glases of Primitivo (him) and Montepulciano (her) helped pass the afternoon very pleasantly.

In fact we ate so much dinner became unnecessary!

Hotel Scherman – a family-owned B&B with a handwritten welcome card from the manager.

I liked this view from our hotel window – very New York

Our hotel even had that rare feature, a rooftop terrace.

We hadn’t made any plans for New York. I’d looked at theatre options, but prices to book online from Australia were outrageous – AUD600 for two tickets to see ‘Six’? No thanks.

Once I got on hotel wifi I found I could buy directly from the Lena Horne Theatre box office and snagged two USD79 ‘Six’ seats for Monday night.

Staying in Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan, gave us plenty of walking options. The Museum of Broadway was a few minutes away. Only open 12 months it is a wonderful resource for musical theatre mad fans. Stuart had some Ecoflo stuff to do so I went alone and spent an ecstatic two hours poring over the displays.

One floor takes you ‘backstage’ – this recreates the workspace of the Stage Manager and has a video of an actual stage manager running ‘Aladdin’. Awe inspiring!

Chita Rivero and the original chorines from ‘West Side Story’.

The rest of the day we meandered around the posh bits of downtown, window shopping and people watching.

These are all classic Dior gowns made up in white muslin as a carousel.

For Seinfeld fans – you know the significance of this place.

Lunch at Carnegie Diner was again almost enough to take us through to breakfast.

This photo in the diner was not captioned, but I think this is the incredible Trinidadian Hazel Scott who played Carnegie Hall.

I had to pop out early evening to change money and found myself strolling through the twinkling lights of the winter market in Bryant Park.

Our walk to the theatre took all of five minutes. We were high up in the dress circle but had a good view of the stage.

If you haven’t caught up with the cultural phenomenon of ‘Six’, in brief it tells the herstory of the six wives of Henry VIII through a power ballad sung by each queen/diva plus an an opening and closing number. The musicians are also women. If this sounds a bit feminazi don’t be put off. The writing by Brit duo Lucy Moss and Toby Marlow is wry, sly and very funny and the choreography extra snappy. I just shook my head at how clever it was.

With no intermission, the show roars from start to finish for 90 minutes.

I was apprehensive about audience behaviour after incidents reported recently in the UK and elsewhere (I had my own altercation with a man using his mobile phone during a flamenco performance in Brisbane recently), but happily there was no singing along, no glowing screens and everyone stayed in their seats until invited to stand for the encore. Only a handful of us wore face masks.

I give the show 10/10. Stuart still managed to nod off – so he tells me – as my eyes were glued to the stage.

After the 18 month closure of Broadway during the covid19 pandemic I was beyond happy to see that 31 Broadway theatres are in production mode and several more have shows in train. Musical theatre enriches lives and contributes 14.7 billion dollars annually to the New York economy, not including ticket sales.

Time for us to move on though. A ten block walk to Penn Station to be precise.

One New York street impression we won’t miss is the pervasive smell of weed, vapes and the artificial fir tree scent being pumped out of ‘Christmas’ planters around town. Now that marijuana is legal in New York State and cannabis shops abound, it smells like parts of Amsterdam. All good reasons to keep wearing a face mask.

A short train ride on the New Jersey transit line and we were in the completely different world of Princeton to spend precious time with Alastair and Lyn and their sweet golden retriever, Abby, before flying Newark to San Jose, Costa Rica. Uncharted territory for both of us!

PS I bought a copy of Alisha Fernandez Miranda’s very funny ‘My What If Year’ at the Museum of Broadway. If you’ve ever fantasised about running away from work and family responsibilities to follow your passions this is the book for you.

Around The World Part One

On November 28, 2023December 16, 2023 By Sharon TickleIn Atlantic Crossing, Queen Mary Two, Travel, Uncategorized1 Comment

‘Which way is the front?’

Variations of that question echo plaintively along corridors and in stairwells at least four times within fifteen minutes of boarding.

For Stuart the orientation challenge is very real. Five times in a row he turned to the wrong end of the ship until he hit on the solution. Whichever direction his internal compass told him to go he would take the opposite. Solved. His 2012 stroke is to blame for that small deficit, but it felt like the Coral Princess all over again….

The question de jour next morning was, ‘What time is it actually?’ as confused passengers struggled with the concept of clocks going back one hour in the night. I sympathised because there is no time zone correlating to our small blue dot in the vast Atlantic Ocean. Even new crew members seemed mystified as they huddled together in the breakfast buffet dining room hunting through time zones on smart phones. No one has analog watches any more.

Yes, we’re back on Queen Mary II after an absence of six years, crossing the pond from Southampton to New York again, alas without our companions of 2017, Anne and Charles.

Painting from 2004 – QM2’s maiden voyage

Why repeat the adventure in the depths of winter you may well ask?

Stuart’s wish list is the answer. Apart from one leg in Costa Rica which I campaigned for, he designed this round-the-world trip to fulfill his ambition to spend quality time with family and friends in the UK, travel in comfort to New York to visit a close friend going through a family tragedy, and then fly on to adventures in Patagonia and Mendoza.

The fact that we find ourselves in the thick of Cunard’s ‘Literature Festival At Sea’ is pure happenstance.

I would rename it, ‘A Few British Writers You May Have Heard Of If You Read The Times Or Watch BBC TV Plus A Lot You Haven’t And Probably Never Will’. A completely self-congratulatory Britain-centric program.

If that sounds sniffy so be it. Why no North American authors/presenters/comedians? Asian? Others? I guess it’s because major sponsors are The Times Group and Cheltenham Literature Festival (Cheltenham only does Anglo Saxon so I’ve been told by aficionados).

What the ship does have is an excellent library. We can borrow two books a day so I’m staging my own tiny protest by reading only non-British authors. See the end for my list.

Working backwards – we were delivered to Mayflower quay by niece Sally, husband Nick and young Oliver after a raucous family lunch at The White Star Tavern (recall The Titanic was the flag ship of the White Star Line) with almost all the Elliott cousins, partners, offspring and puppy, Molly present.

There are now twelve second cousins (including one being cooked as we speak). We toasted to the miraculousness (now a word) of our rendezvous in Southampton after the eventful few years everyone has had. We deeply appreciate the effort the cousins made to come.

Since we were last in the UK grand nephew William has grown into a delightful, bonny two-year-old. Stuart and I happily accompanied him to Rugby Tots, soft play and family swimming. Inclement English weather is no dampener when niece Rosie is in charge of the program!

GUSA (Great Uncle Stuart) was William’s sous chef. All great chefs wear their trousers back to front don’t you know.

The journey south from Edinburgh felt like the movie, ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles’, except the sequence was taxi, tram, plane, train, train and finally taxi to reach The Black Horse in Amberley, West Sussex, in five hours. Well done Stuart.

Amberley village is full of thatched roofs.

I forgave him when we woke to a duck egg blue sky. Caffeinated and with a full cooked English under our belts we tramped two and a half hours up 211 metres to the highest point and along the beautiful South Downs Way to Storrington’s Vintage Rose Tea Room. I can’t recommend it highly enough, their sandwiches and cakes are worthy of an Enid Blyton story. A local cab returned us to our cosy pub where we were joined for the night by none other than Anne and Charles.

Constant drizzle and a power outage next morning in historic Arundel were salvaged by chancing upon a jewel of a secondhand book shop. Three floors of meticulously catalogued books, with tempting first editions and a wall of biographies made up for any amount of dampness. I found a copy of Raynor Win’s novel, ‘The Salt Path’, which takes place on the South-West Coast Path, thus guaranteeing Stuart will read it.

I do feel for the Sussex locals though, with hectares of flooded and waterlogged fields and more rain forecast. Rain has already overwhelmed an aged waste water system that collects stormwater and sewerage in the same drainage system. Whose bright idea was that?

But I digress. In Edinburgh we were honoured to be the first guests to stay in Jenny and Tristan’s newly built garden studio apartment. The selling point for me was their under floor heating, but as you can see, they’ve created an inviting tiny home in their walled garden where the garage once stood.

Tris and Jen’s walled garden newly landscaped

Stuart preceded me by two weeks to fit in visits to his brother and sister-in-law in Devon, watch world cup rugby with Charles and to spend more time with Tris, Jenny and the wee lassie in Bruntsfield. He even managed a quick trip to Dunkeld to mountain bike.

Now we are blissfully incomunicado for six days and seven nights of eating and drinking, exercising it off and attending talks by the onboard literati. Well, those writers who haven’t succumbed to mal de mer. They just announced the cancelation of Marcus Brigstocke’s presentation ‘Cheese and Whine’ as he is ‘indisposed’.

A depleted cake tray after visiting our table.

It’s odd don’t you think that people pack behemoths of suitcases (one woman we chatted with at dinner last night admitted to bringing six) with all manner of smart attire but neglect to bring anti-sea sickness meds on a cross Atlantic passage. Stuart reported a slow moving queasy queue of passengers at the purser’s office the first morning seeking medication at USD12 a pop.

The seas are definitely higher than last voyage. Anywhere from four to six metres with winds from Force 8 to 10 gusting to 11, dense fog on day five and small hail stones on day six.

The outside deck is often closed and the impact on line dancing classes (when not canceled) has been significant. Grapevines turn into stumbles for a few grey-haired dancers but they soldier on.

One has to watch one’s footing when doing laps of the deck.

Somehow Stuart plays doubles table tennis. He’s been determined to beat the South-East England champion and his wife.

Heavier weather arrived as forecast later in the week. It’s marvellous sitting at the library windows above the bow on deck eight watching the big rollers approaching and feeling the hull lift and crash down.

A different view from the library.

A dance show in the theatre was canceled but they managed two evening performances of music and dance so I’m happy. The ship’s company are talented and well rehearsed. The final theatre show, ‘Swing’ hit all the right notes. Choreography was straight from the Fosse-Robbins lexicography. Their ‘Mister Bojangles’ moved me to tears.

We took a fencing class (my second) and I brushed up on the Cha Cha Cha and Samba with gorgeous Ukrainian husband and wife ballroom dance professionals, Daria and Yehven.

Given the days are so short and cold we opted for a cheaper inside ‘state room’ amidships. This is proving ideal as it is quiet, dark as a cave and rocks least.

For the navigation nerds amongst you, the Captain started us on a rhumb line (shortest route between two points), however as the storms brewed he diverted to a more northerly route following the Great Circle Line of circumnavigation to avoid the worst of the low pressure systems.

This signed chart with the voyage marked was auctioned for the Prince’s Trust.

The North-Westerlies caused the bulk of the side of the ship to act like a sail such that we heeled to starboard with interesting effects on water drainage and anything loose about the place.

This was when we were still allowed outside.

Surprisingly the wreck of the Titanic is clearly marked on all the charts displayed on the many screens around the ship keeping us updated on our westward progress.

Meals have been excellent, especially the daily changing lunch offerings in the vast King’s Court buffet. I’m working my way through a long list of vegan dinner options in the Britannia dining room. I tick what I want for the next evening. And of course we never miss formal afternoon tea in the Queen’s Room with its parade of white gloved servers carrying large silver tea pots. Light classical music entertainment varies from harp to piano, trio to quintet.

For this trip we have carry on luggage only. A tight connection in Panama City and a general aversion to dragging suitcases about means we have just a seven kilo duffel plus a small backpack each. This is working well even with the strict dress code aboard ship. Stuart planned to buy a secondhand DJ in Edinburgh but when that proved impossible he found a sage green velvet jacket in M & S that pairs nicely with lightweight black trousers and a paisley bow tie! My two gala evening outfits are not as glam as many, but I didn’t let the side down.

Tomorrow we dock early and will have the night in Manhattan, New York. QM2 carries on to the Caribbean then back to New York and home to Southampton.

Docked at Pier 12, Red Hook.

Books read:

‘The Island Of Sea Women’ by Lisa See (you might know her from ‘The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane’). I had no idea of the unrelentingly hardship and cruelty imposed on the Jeju islanders by the Japanese and by their countrymen in the Korean civil war (overseen by the US).

‘The Girl Who Wrote Loneliness’ by Kyung-Sook Shin (I wasn’t able to finish the book but I was intrigued by her style, a kind of shy, tentative fictionalisation of her own story).

‘Friends, Lovers and the Big, Terrible Thing’, by Canadian Mathew Perry (I had almost finished my own copy when I left it in a cafe so I was pleased to be able to finally finish it, unhappy as his final chapter was).

‘Joyride – Lives Of The Theatricals’ by American Peter Lahr is a hefty compilation of Lahr’s reviews and biogs from his 21 years as chief theatre critic for the New Yorker.

Postscript:

It was a sad end to the voyage for at least one guest. We watched an ambulance approach soon after docking, followed half an hour later by a police car with flashing lights. The vehicles left together an hour later….

The Holy Island of Lindisfarne and Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland

On October 8, 2022October 8, 2022 By Sharon TickleIn Bamburgh, Lindisfarne, Northumberland, Travel2 Comments

We’re getting down to the wire. It’s been seven weeks since we left Gypsy Hill and only two days remain before we begin the schlep from Edinburgh to Heathrow and thence to Singapore and Melbourne to report for ten days grandparenting duties (Sarah is travelling to the US for an important family event).

We dodged the rail strikes in France but they’ve hit us here in the UK. Bit peeved as we bought rail cards intending to do our bit for the planet and have only been able to use them once.

Hence our planned Scotrail trip southward has become a rental car drive with an overnight in Oundle (Stuart’s boarding school town of the same name). Flights are at astronomical prices. I heard a slightly hysterical man in the Budget car rental office recounting his horrors of trying to get home and imagined that multiplied by thousands.

Penultimate hotel room this holiday – Bruntsfield in Bruntsfield, Edinburgh.

We’ve just had two nights in Northumberland. Evie is at nursery school Wednesdays and Thursdays so we tend to go somewhere else those days. We’re paying for a hotel anyway so we’re better off going somewhere new and interesting than twiddling our thumbs in Edinburgh. No offence Edinburghians but we really have seen it all at least once.

Neither of us had been to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne or to Bamburgh Castle so despite the dodgy weather forecast we headed south to see these two historic places.

I researched tide times and watched the informational ‘how to’ video and found we could cross the Holy Island causeway from 2pm. No way were we ending up in the ‘Idiot Box’ and calling the coastguard to rescue us.

After a pub lunch (non-alcoholic for me!) we joined the queue of cars, cyclists and walkers waiting to cross and as soon as the water receded the cars began crossing in both directions. Exciting!

It must be busy in summer but on our rainy, cold October day we were across in minutes, parked up and walking through the village (resident car access only) to Lindisfarne Castle.

It felt like stepping into an Enid Blyton novel. Time was suspended. The sun shone, a robin sat watching me from a dry stone wall, blindingly white sheep grazed, and tiny boats bobbed in the bay off a shingle beach.

Earliest records date the castle to the 1550s. It was a garrison until 1853 supporting military efforts during the Scottish and Civil Wars and the Jacobite Rebellion. Castle walls rise precipitously out of the sea on two sides to batteries where cannons were mounted and the path to access the portcullis wraps around like a snail shell.

We were amongst the first into the castle. England’s National Trust have maintained the castle in much the same condition as gentleman publisher Edward Hudson left it when he sold it to the Falk family in 1922. Hudson bought it in 1902 on a whim as his summer holiday house, perhaps not fully realising that ‘summer’ on Lindisfarne could be frigid with battering winds and waves.

He had Arts and Crafts designer Edwin Lutyens renovate it to his taste but it still lacked many creature comforts, such as heating.

It sounds as though Hudson treated it as a theatrical staging venue to entertain his eclectic group of friends and acquaintances with lavish champagne dinners. Once guests were on the island the tides ensured they were trapped there until the next low.

We walked to Lindisfarne Priory and graveyard next. Ransacked on Henry VIII’s orders many of the Priory’s stones were used to reinforce the castle.

The seventh century Irish Bishop, St Aidan, who established a monastery on Lindisfarne, is credited with restoring Christianity to largely pagan northern England.

The Church of St Mary The Virgin, adjacent to the Priory, was colourfully decorated with seasonal foliage, fruits and vegetables.

Black clouds came rolling back bringing more rain so we sped back to the car and continued to our accommodation, the Victoria Hotel in Bamburgh, five minutes walk from the Castle.

The hotel proved to be a good choice, comfy, great food and service at a reasonable rate. Only drawback was no lift to our room on the third floor – Stuart is definitely bringing lighter luggage next trip.

Whereas Lindisfarne served initially as a military outpost and latterly as a private holiday home, Bamburgh Castle’s 3,000 years of history runs the full gamut with occupation, fortification, conquests, raids, and as a royal seat of power until finally it cane into private ownership.

This sedan chair was used like an ambulance.

One of the many generations of Forster women wore this silk gown.

We were the first through the door at 10am. When I found myself alone in King’s Hall I couldn’t resist dancing and spinning around the grand space. Stuart joined me soon after for a slightly more sedate waltz. I’m sure their CCTV has recorded worse.

From the Castle one can walk the coastal path south to the fishing port and beaches of Seahouses or, when the tide is right, stroll along the beach and rock shelves looking out to the Farne Islands.

We walked the beach out and the path back, past the RNLI station, stopping for lunch at the Olde Ship Inn perched above the harbour. It was a farmhouse in the 1700s before being converted into a public house and is crammed with historical artefacts, photos and paintings.

Less than two hours from Edinburgh we have flagged coastal Northumberland for further exploration and I’d dearly love to bring our granddaughters to Lindisfarne and Bamburgh for a week’s holiday. I can envisage many adventures looking for treasures fuelled by potted shrimp paste sandwiches and ginger beer!

How to survive being hit by a truck whilst riding a motorcycle

On September 21, 2022 By Sharon TickleIn France, Italy, Motorcycling, Travel1 Comment

By Stuart Elliott

Blind luck and one centimetre. but more of that later….

The first night hotel in Milan was booked by Sharon* in what the Japanese call a ‘love hotel’, complete with mirrors above the bed and a spa bath the size of a ping pong table.

Alastair and I had studied at length how to get to the first night’s destination, Oulx; a local highway and three autostrada (including the Tangi) to escape greater Milan. Simple right? Wrong.

We missed a critical autostrada transfer, and following a dangerous pow pow on the hard shoulder, we decided we needed to exit the autostrada ASAP and rejoin it going in the opposite direction. Again, simple.

Unfortunately that option didn’t present itself, so somewhere many kilometres further on we exited. Alastair decided, and I followed with some concern, to do an illegal U-turn in front of a toll booth. When we duly presented ourselves at the toll booth somewhere near our original error, the machine said ‘No’.

As you can imagine, within minutes we had a long line of cars lined up behind us remonstrating in true Italian style. No amount of pressing the assistance button did anything except further increase my blood pressure.

Eventually Al decided to edge forward and duck under the barrier. Well I wasn’t going to do that. It wasn’t British! I soon had to change my mind as the dude behind edged his car ever closer to my rear tyre. The only problem was I am taller than Al and I was wearing my backpack. Six attempts later I forced my way through.

A few kilometres later one finds another F****ing toll booth. So here we go again. Bike into neutral. Foot on break, balance the bike on the other foot on tippy toes, struggle to get gloves off, which by now are stuck like glue to fingers on account of flop sweat, reach over to machine whilst balancing bike. Stuff now sweaty ticket in nearest available pocket and hope the following motorists will keep quiet whilst gloves are reapplied (fortunately they hadn’t slipped off the bike whilst reaching for the ticket). Success!

But five kilometres later there is another toll booth. Al opts for the cash line. I go for the credit card line. Just as I enter I realise it is not just for any old card but a highway toll card. Al sails thru. Stuart does not. Not sure if that was because my ticket was crumpled and damp from sweat or my card was unacceptable. Anyway guess what? The machine says ‘No’. Meanwhile you can imagine the scenario behind me. I try reversing however the car behind me wasn’t having any of that, at least not according to his fast moving hand gestures. So now with my BP closer to 200 than 100, I notice the barrier was built for motorcycles! I rode round the side of it! So off we went to the next toll booth. Excellent – getting the hang of this….

By now we should have been at our destination in a Italian mountain resort, or in jail. Instead we stop, exhausted, for lunch and wonder what has changed in the past few years since our last trip. Could it be we are in our 70s not our 60s?

Oulx is surrounded by mountains and beautiful. We have a relaxing and liquid evening. On our way up the mountain road to Oulx we were going so slowly we were overtaken by countless bikes, including a woman on a farm bike.

Sunday we ride over an unspectacular col into France and stop for coffee in Montgenevre, where Sharon learnt to snow ski in 1976! Further on we pass thru a bustling and pretty Briancon and on up the Tour de France cols of Izouard and Var.

This is simply spectacular country and we had a brilliant ride but for the countless motorcycles intent on overtaking anything and everything including Ferraris and little old Al and Stu. Fortunately they mainly knew what they were doing so didn’t pose too much of a risk to us old age pensioners. It’s 80k from Oulx to Barcelonnette via the Routes Nationales. It took us six hours but who’s counting when the wind is in your hair, figuratively speaking, and the scenery is sublime.

When we arrived in Barcelonnette we discovered why cars had been outnumbered by bikes all day. There was a three-day motorcycle convention. No problem (these are, or should that be these were, our people), except the streets around our hotel are blocked off. And we are hot, tired and pissed off.

Suitably refreshed overnight we set off next morning to do the Col de La Bonnette, the highest road in France at 2800 metres. Napoleon passed through here a few years ago they claim. Meanwhile Al and a few motorcyclists are standing by his monument and a sweaty cyclist decides it’s a monument to cyclists and bulldozes his way thru Al and pushes others out of the way so he can put his bicycle in front of the monument for the ritual selfie. Good on him for getting up there but inappropriate behaviour.

Moving on… fabulous ride down the road towards Nice and up a goat track for lunch in a medieval perched village – gorgeous.

Next day we did a local ride with picnic by a lake. Al flew his drone.

Later I hired a mountain bike and went up an off road trail. Couldn’t do it without some walking but completed the 20k with 700 metres ascent.

Time to turn back to Italy; a two-day ride. The forecast had it raining on the second day. We decided to check into a hotel half way and have the bike rental company pick the bikes up from Asti ( as in Asti Spumante). Simple and sensible, but…

The weather forecast was wrong. We woke to rain and forecast flooding. Route sorted, avoiding anything remotely smelling of a toll road (not an easy thing to do in northern Italy), Google maps had us making some 100 road changes. The main ones needed memorising.

Rain gear on, luggage in panniers, fuel in tanks and trepidation in full force we set off into a rain storm. Within minutes there is water on the glasses, inside the visor and outside the visor. There are many hurdles to overcome including hairpin bends up and down the Col de Larche on a slippery road which hasn’t been rained on in weeks. At least the rain gear is working well and we have finished the hairpins. Al takes the lead after a brief stop beside the road. He is more confident in the rain than me and is in ‘his zone’. We ride through several villages descending into Cuneo with increasing amounts of traffic including trucks and farm vehicles. In one of these villages, all of a sudden around a corner an articulated lorry takes the corner too fast, breaks and the rear of the trailer skids out jack-knifing across the road towards me. And there you have the answer to the original question.

Luck and one centimetre saved me from being delivered elsewhere. The back of the trailer hit the left-hand clutch guard of the bike. I guess I swerved and removed my hand from the handlebars. The plastic guard was smashed but the bike hardly missed a beat. A centimetre closer and the actual metal handle bars would have been hit and probably forced the bike into the trailer.

Navigating country roads with frequent intersections using an iPhone in your pocket is a nightmare, especially when it’s inside your wet weather gear, but luck was on our side that day so despite a few false turns we eventually arrived at our hotel outside Asti amongst the vineyards and a clearing sky. It was a converted monastery with pool and spa. A great place to relax after an intense day. No restaurant in the hotel that day so I walked into the local village for dinner. Al joined me later on his bike. He having declared that the walk even to the end of the hotel driveway was too far. Alastair took me home as pillion, but not before we got lost again one last time.

In the morning we and our bikes were picked up. The outrageous 650 Euro charge was well worth the alternative of repeating the fiasco of riding autostradas on a motorcycle in summer without a pillion. (thank you Sharon for all those years you told me which toll booth to aim for, presented the ticket and paid the toll whilst I kept the bike upright and in neutral. Thank you also for trusting me with your life)

Ironically the ride in the van back to Milan turned out to be more dangerous than riding a motorcycle. The character of our unvaccinated driver, Fabrizio, who spent part of the journey finding us entertaining videos on his phone of his daring exploits whilst straddling lanes at 140 km/hr, is best explained by the following quotes…

“Australia has too many rules – you can’t do no nuving”.

“I move too quick to catch covid”. Fabrizio test rides Ducati’s for the Moto GP team at up to 350 km/hr.

Meanwhile it’s off to Rimini for some R and R on the Adriatic. I love trains.

*Note from Sharon: Stuart outsourced the Milan hotel booking to me when he ran up against ridiculous prices in central Milan. I chose a well reviewed hotel-motel close to the motorcycle rental shop. Nothing indicated it was a tryst motel. Sorry guys.