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Off to Palace of the Holyrood, an obligatory stop at the foot of the Royal Mile. (The other must see is the castle at the top of said street.  Of that, more below.) As you can see, it looks like many other Important British and Scottish Structures:

The palace was so memorable that I am not quite sure what I saw other than lots of portraits and dark wood.  Then went to museum where the display of shoes rivalled that in a Neiman Marcus for creativity.  One pair in particular was made of shiny copper coils, and, like most of the others, had a platform that would lift the wearer several inches off the ground and require feats of balance  to stay on one’s feet. So much fun! 





Surrounding the shoes were fashions from different eras.  It is terrifically interesting to see how people decorate, display, hide, and otherwise treat the body fashion-wise, is it not?  There was display of masks, which was impressive, and a whole variety of other things, but the shoes, clothes and masks grabbed my attention most.

At yet another museum, saw a Rembrandt exhibit.  That was pretty wonderful.  I am not sure I quite get the greatness of, say, the Mona Lisa, but I do get the greatness of Rembrandt.  (That may not be a valid comparison, but anyway….) 

This rhino, whose horn was not made from endangered materials,  did not escape from a museum, but there was no good place to put him, so here he is:

Back to the Royal Mile and all its shoppees selling cashmere and non-cashmere memorabilia, so many shops selling the same things, but I popped into one that was a bit different and espied boxes of the fabulous melt-in-your-mouth tea cakes that James back at the Ashton in Lancaster had in a jar for guests to take, and so I did tell the lady that I would be back the next day to purchase some.  And indeed I did do that. 

Piggy with eyelashes y todo!  The nether part of piggy has become sandwich meat:

His and hers wedding attire:

After more wandering about and a stop and Marks and Spencer to pick up some dinner returned to hotel to settle in.  Discovered that there are circular walks one can take in the city that have directions and gpx support, so chose two to do the next day.  Best idea yet, especially since rain was forecast but not until mid-afternoon.

7:00 a.m. set out to walk along the Water of Leith.  How beautiful the sky was and the city, still asleep. Passed through lovely upscale neighbourhoods, and the park wherein is the Museum of Modern Art, which is huge.  Was sad, though, that I was too early to gain access to museum, so missed the Nolde exhibit.  At least there were some sculptures outside.  

Not The Thinker.  Maybe The Doer?

This guy reminded me of that fantastic sculpture of partially buried cars in the Hamden Plaza parking lot:

The walking instructions instructed one to “Turn left at the Henry Moore,” so I did:

Had a ticket to visit the Castle:

so after the Water of Leith walk, headed on over.  Oy!  What does one see at the Castle aside from the Order of the Thistle (which I swear I saw yesterday at the Palace of the Holyrood) and the Order of the Garter?  Why swarms of people!  That is what one sees.  After taking in the view:

and the genuine impressiveness of the structure, but bypassing the whiskey tasting, I left with no regrets for having spent maybe thirty minutes there.

Even I have trouble squeezing through some of these passages:

Now I have to tell you something about cows.  They do not say Moo!  The sound they make comes from the way bottom of their seventh stomach and it is very loud, bellowy, and a little bit scary!  This nice bossy, however, did not vocalise (at me):

Met up with a couple of men from the U.S., who were doing the Coast to Coast, so walked with them for a while.  Why is it than men—not all, but not so few—just assume that they are worldly and knowledgable and that you need everything explained to you?  Anyway, after doing a section of the  C2C with them, sacrificing some of my hard earned way-points to do so, I decided I had had enough of their vapid pontificating, so bid them adieu and left to go down to the Swale and follow the river into Richmond, which seemed like the fitting way to enter the city.  It was a beautiful finale:

Nine hundred and forty miles.  Es mucho.  Wonder if there will be an encore…..

River:

Land:

Big gate and wee gate:

Uh-Oh:

To be confused or not to be confused with the original Chelm?

Falls near Hawes.  Just a trickle because of the scarcity of rain.  One could walk up, but it was slippery and I was hungry, and I had walked many miles already, so after a short start up the path, I turned back and bought an ice cream.

Loved this bridge:

A trio:

View:

Can’t remember all the fun and raucus things that happened on these couple of days because internet has been weak or not working, so could not jot down thoughts while they were fresh and exciting. But as you can see, the walking has been pleasant except for the day I did not take photos due to rain and cold and wind!  But there was drama at Redmire, other than my being wetter than I ever have been before.  Discovered that last day of walk was not properly way-pointed, so had to fight with the instruction book and its awful schematic maps to create a route.  This took hours.  The relief was that one did not need internet to do this because there wasn’t any except in the bar and even there it was really S  L  O  W!

So much for the gorgeous Herriot Way!  Ten miles of today’s 15 or so were on dead straight, flat, wide, rocky track through moors.  Excruciatingly dull and a killer on the feet. When, finally, the landscape developed a bit of texture it was truly exciting!  Then, stopped on the way to tour Bolton Castle, after which, the scenery and walking surfaces improved a lot.  But, for the most part, it was a long slog of a day.  Arrived at B and B at 3:00 to find sign on door saying something to the effect of “See you at 4:00.”  (What is annoying about this is that I had e-mailed about arrival time but did not receive a reply, nor was arrival time mentioned on the web site.) The place—basic but OK—looked like a funeral parlour because it has windows that you cannot see through from the outside during the day.  Creepy!  It was not raining, so things could be worse.  A cute little tea shop near by served soup, so I had a bowl and a roll.  Returned at 3:50 at which time Jason let me in.

 Reward for out-the-door-early:

Roof ornament, honest!

See, you CAN see the wee gate:

Hunting lodge.  Peeked in windows.  There were long tables and chairs, very nice wood, and a beautiful brick fireplace.  That’s it! (I hope birdie above does not become dinner.)

Bolton Castle.  Ta-da!

Innards not so intact:

I was so excited to see a genuine oubliette!  This is the very grate through which the unfortunate prisoner was lowered by a rope into a dark, damp and cold stone chamber…..and then….. forgotten:

Mary was a “guest” of Harry, 9th Lord of Scrope and Sir Francis Knollys at Bolton for six months.  During her captivity, she and her retinue took over the Solar and the whole adjoining suite of rooms including the Great Chamber, the Nursery, and two large bed chambers in the tower directly above.

and moors:

And a good-looking sheep:

A mighty fine cairn:

Is this not picture-book pretty?

Pack bridge—not crossed:

Sheep with long tail:

Sheep with long tail and itch behind ear:

Valley and river, and path:

Two wee cairns inviting one to turn here, as indeed one was to do:

Landscape that looks like a moonscape:

A nice, plump chicken:

B and B here in Reeth is lovely even though I am definitely in the “Where shall we toss the old lady room.”  Can’t complain about the wi-fi.  This place has lots of rules.  No admittance until 3:30, but the guy, more like a geezer, showed up at 2:30 (I had been waiting since about 2:00), and greeted me not with “Hello,” or some nicety like that but rather “We do not admit guests until 3:30.” He did, however, relent and let me in.  Would not leave me anything for breakfast (which is really OK) because, “Dining room does not open until 7:30,” (very important to keep the corn flakes under lock and key),  but did, at least, provide milk for coffee.  Nice place, bad vibe.  What can I say! The town, itself, is adorable and boasts an excellent cream parlour!

Today also a day of losses.  Lost instructions.  Fortunately, that happened fairly near the end, and ven without them, I was able to figure out a super tricky bit.  Left poles down in town before getting to B and B but that is also OK because they can no longer be collapsed (very annoying), so will use the back up pair.  At least they were not biding time in the suitcase for naught!  Then thought I lost the power cord for the phone, which sent me into a tizzy, but baruch hashem, it had just fallen on the floor.

Local residents:

 The highlight of today’s walk was the Ribblehead Viaduct, build c. 1850.  Even in the rain and mist and from a distance, it is impressive.  Note that the arches are not symetrical:

Closer, where you can note more easily that the arches are not symetrical:

Cottage, but nor where I stayed.  Where I stayed was gorgeous:

Reached said gorgeous B and B about 11:15….it was only about 11 miles.  Key and instructions left at door.  Looked forward to a cozy afternoon and an opportunity to take care of a lot of logistics.  There was no phone signal.  There was NO WI FI!!  No, it is not that the password had not been left, there was none.  Guess what I had to do?  Read!  It was nerve wracking until it became almost relaxing.  There was one other guest, a man, mid 60s or so, an arrogant bore.  He was patiently explaining to me that the Romans built roads to move their troops and such.  Te digo, “Salve atque vale hasta siempre, Señor!”

Sheep in the mist and rain:

 View, mist and rain dissipating—for five minutes—from Pennine Way section of today’s walk:

Wee passageway:

Long (23 miles), wet, cold, windy, challenging day.  I was really worried about the first part of the walk:  where to cross the river, and later, where to cross back again.  Those issues turned out not to be problematic but lots in between was hellish or at least difficult. There is no waymarking for this route, and, as I think I recently said, but it does bear repeating, the instructions are useless and the gpx data too scant to be at all helpful unless you sprout wings and go as the crow flies.

Tossed camera in suitcase as weather report was muy malo, and though the day started out comfortably, a couple of hours in, the promised rain and wind did arrive.  I was not dressed warmly enough, so was freezing until 3:30 when a low battery signal on the GPS forced me to take off my pack in the middle of a cow dung filled field to change the batteries.  Since the rain was light at that point, I used the opportunity to put on more clothes and felt much better for the last hour of the trek. Yes, lots of high grass, broken stiles, fences and tall gates to scale, barbed wire to climb over, muddy slippery paths that made you fear you might end up in the River Lune, diversions due to landslides, but no rerouting information provided—hands too cold to even open packet of hand warmers—hands almost too cold to push button on GPS.  Thank God I had entered my own data; it saved the day, that and the fact that there was 4G reception so I could use the map on the phone.

So here is a long day:  You are picked up at 6:00 a.m., to be taken to the start point, about 1 1/2 mi. from B&B, which, under normal circumstances I would never do, but a bad weather day that is 22 miles without any errors at all—(from my mouth to God’s ear)—is not a normal day. Finally, you arrive at destination B and B at 4:30.  It was a pretty good walk, actually, just overly long and weather made navigating a real kotz in tuchas (pain).

Next morning, with instructions from Sue, B and B proprietress, off to do the 4 1/2 mile circular walk around Ingleton Falls, which are nothing short of spectacular.  Desafortunadamente, still shots of waterfalls are, well, you know, nothing like the real thing!  No movement, no roar, no spray, no thrill!

 Then walked about 1 1/2 miles up the miserable B 3265 or whatever numbers come after the B, a shoulderless wretched road with cars flying past, to get to White Scar Cave. There was a lovely way to get to the cave from the waterfalls trail over a long, stepping stones crossing and then up some fields, but the water was too high to use the stepping stones, so it was no way or the highway.  Got to the ticket office five minutes before 1:00 tour, and lucked out with the tour guide. (I think I may have developed an allergy to tours.)  Anyway the caves were excellently interesting, only no photos to show to convince.

The caves made me think about outer space…..the amount of time for a stalactite to grow one centimetre, the amount of time for any of those geologic formations to form (!) is so huge that it is hard to actually imagine in the way that it is hard to imagine the distances (and time) out there in space.  OK, so it is hard for me to conceptualise those things, which is one reason out of about two hundred why I am not a physicist, astronomer, geologist, or speleologist or many other things!

This is the Ashton Memorial. It was built by Lord Ashton, a linoleum magnate, as a tribute to his second wife.  To his third wife, he did not build a memorial.  Anyway, tomorrow, I am going to see what it houses.

Huh?

Maybe not so dangerous:

Meerkats getting a bit of sun:

Bunny’s friend looks a lot like doggie:

Inside the birdhouse:

It was market day in Lancaster, so the city was hopping.  Bought some delicious cheese, a loaf of bread that looked more promising than it tasted, went to a couple of art galleries, one of which was quite fine, managed to get worn out watch band replaced, visited a museum, the kind that reminds you how hard life was back in the day, picked up some salmon and grapes at M&S, then returned to B and B to review map for tomorrow and curse the horrible instruction book—e.g. of horrible: “With some luck, you might be able to find the stile in the electric fence.” (Guess who is not following that route?)—and begin housekeeping chores of which there are many on these walks.  Oh, washed pants that smelled like ten kinds animals!

A bridge in a tenuous state of repair is better than no bridge at all:

In Carlisle, I visited the Guildhall Museum, built 1407. Very little of the 15th century structure is preserved, but the lady at the desk was more than eager to explain the many layered building technique:  brick, a layer of woven twigs, then a sort of plastery stuff and to finish it off, a coat of lime.  The “nails” were thick, round pegs inserted into holes of approximately the same size, where they would expand to fill the space (one hoped).

Loom, not from 15th century but pretty darn old:

Tell me that these magnificent walls do not outdo that built by Roman soldiers, AND they are for a more sproductive purpose:

Enough stones left over to make a bridge:

Famous sculpture en route to Keswick:

Between my very nice B and B and the theatre was a beautiful park.  This sculpture is reminiscent of the boar of the other day, only this one has no mud and it is not of a boar:

Our friend, the red squirrel, again:

Today’s walk, from Keswick to Caldbeck, has two versions.  The fifteen mile version goes over the highest peak in the area, and the eighteen mile version, which is 19.36, is the low route.  In bad weather, one is discouraged from taking the high route.  The weather was bad.  The low level route was nothing to sneeze at in terms of challenges and length.  What was not shrouded in cloud and mist was gorgeous, but weather too bad and distance too long for picture taking.

Oh, on this route, there is a small section of a field one has to cross that used to have, and maybe still does, a buzzard that periodically attacked walkers, so I was prepared to do battle with this creature by waving my poles.  But the guide book was published in 2011, so maybe Mr. Buzzard is dead or he was hiding out to escape the rain.  In any case, he did not show up.

Tonight I am in the most luxurious Bed and Breakfast ever.  After a long, wet, windy day, oh, how good that feels!