Back on the Road, and Famished

Having just recovered my sleeping patterns from before the trip to the UK, I decided it was time to leave again, this time to take the opportunity to see WA's wildflowers in the spring. 

I had originally thought I'd take the Indian Pacific, but then I saw a doco about that journey, which changed my mind completely. One of the passengers talked about the advanced age of most of the passengers, and I decided that maybe I could find some livelier company.

Couldn't sleep last night--too wound up--so when the alarm went off at 4:30 this morning, I was already up and packing a couple of last-minute items. The taxi arrived at 5:00.

Caught a budget flight to Perth--Virgin was the cheapest. Well, the cheapest airline I was willing to risk. (I will never travel Jetstar again.) I saw on Virgin's advertising that they had a meal service, so I didn't bother with breakfast. But, the meal service is not what I was expecting. It's not free and what they offer is overpriced: beef noodles ($7.50), ham and cheese toasted sandwich ($10), Pringles ($5). I smelt hot food and I was ravenous, having not eaten since dinner the night before, so I was hopeful the food would reach us eventually, but, no. . .  it was for business class. They gave us coffee/tea/water. 

For free!

Arrived in Perth and made my way to the bus stop where No Birds would pick me up to take me to collect the car. (A tip: the car is cheaper if you don't pick it up from the airport. But, it's more inconvenient, of course.)

Wasn't able to buy something to eat at the airport because all the food stands were on the wrong side of the  luggage claim. I figured I'd get to a little cafe in a country town and get a snack, but I drove 150 km before I encountered a cafe. Every time I saw the name of a town and the distance in kilometres, I thought, surely if the town's name is on a road sign, there'll be a wee place where you can get something to eat. 

Not so. Rural WA is very different from rural NSW. It was 2:30 before I had my brunch. 

However, I did see my first spring wildflowers, and they are lovely. The rain that had been falling on and off while I was driving, let up for just enough time to allow me to do a short walk in Lancelin, which is about an hour's drive away from Cervantes, where I am staying tonight and tomorrow. I thought I would photograph the sunset and the Milky Way at The Pinnacles, just out of town tonight, but you can't see the Milky Way if there are clouds, and the rain washed out the sunset. 

So, they're on tomorrow's program. 

An Unplanned Stop--in Newcastle

After a train trip that turned into Bedlam,  I’m compensating myself with a big, cold glass of wine and a dish of mixed seafood in a little Thai restaurant in Quayside, Newcastle. 

You’re right! At the time you're reading this, I should be home in Sydney. But not to be, just yet, I’m afraid.

I’m not sure when I can get home now. Flights are tight. 

The train I was travelling in from Aberdeen to London was held up for two hours because of a problem with overhead electrical wires between Newcastle and London. It held up all the trains on the network. Then, after we sat waiting in the train for two hours, they told us the train had been cancelled. This was at 2:00 pm, and my flight left at 9:05, about half an hour ago. 

The Station Master called a taxi for me to take me to the Newcastle airport to see if I could get a plane from Newcastle to London.

No seats available. 

I waited on the phone for an hour to I talk to the Philippina at the Qantas call centre, who quoted me $10,000 to fly home tomorrow in Business Class. I think it will be cheaper to hang out in a hotel for a week until I can get an economy flight, but I’ll know more about that later, I hope, when I get a chance to speak to Scott at Helloworld, Baulkham Hills.

That may be harder than I thought because I've just run out of data, which I wouldn't have needed if I hadn't missed my flight, and I might not have run out of if I hadn't had to wait for an hour to speak to QANTAS. I may have to wait until the shops open tomorrow to do anything because I can't do it without data, and I don't understand the app.

I've been looking for Vera everywhere. She'd know how to solve this one. But she wasn't out and about this evening when I was roaming the Quayside. 

The Road to the Hide

 Today it's a bit overcast and wet, the first day like this since I arrived on Mainland Orkney. Yesterday I had quite enough adventures for two days, so I think I'll take today a bit quietly until the sun comes out, and catch you up with what I've been doing. 

So, since I got the Peugeot, I've been wrestling with the idiot satnav. Sometimes she takes me to the place at the address I've keyed in. Sometimes (often) she drops me short or doesn't understand the address at all and I have to ask Siri, which is dangerous because she won't let Siri's voice come out of her sound system, so I have to look at the phone while I'm trying to drive down single lane roads.

Anyway, yesterday I decided to go to a bird hide I was recommended on the first day. It appears on the tourist map I was given as Cottascarth. The satnav took me down lanes of broken stones and dirt lanes in which the wildflowers grew so high in the middle and at the sides that the Peugeot was sounding its alarm.

Then the satnav told me I had arrived, but there was no sign and I had no clue. I passed the baton to Siri and she took me into a farm onto a track that ran along a paddock in which there was a gang of half-crazed steers, mooing loudly and trying to push down the fence to get at the big orange car. It was terrifying. I had to reverse out of there as fast as I could, checking that I wasn't reversing into the fences to the left and right. 

I felt that I must be somewhere close to the bird hide, and then I saw the first person I’d seen since I got into the farm. I asked him and he pointed out the sign to Cottascarth, hidden as it was on a fence post behind a digger. That road was sealed. I parked in the empty parking lot and followed the road and the signs through a flock of sheep towards a house. 

I reached the hide, and this was my view from inside, and a closer view of what I saw out of the window.

A lot of hill, but no birds (specifically, hen harriers) in the sky. I waited for an hour and saw one hen harrier (maybe) in the sky, but too far off to take a photo of. Apart from that there were a few pied wagtails, but I already have a good photo of one.

My bum's a bit sore from sitting on the sofa typing this, now, so I'll sign off and publish this. Maybe I'll key in another post tonight with my adventures around the Ring of Brodgar. 

Ferries and Viking Ruins

Today it's raining steadily. (Reminds me of Sydney, just before I left.) So, I'm inside watching the rain on the window of the guest house. If it lets up a bit, I might drive the 17 miles to Lerwick to go to the museum, but that's as far as I'm going today. 

Yesterday I took two ferries to the Island of Unst. I'd intended to see the Viking ruins, standing stones and puffins in the wildlife sanctuary. By the time I'd taken two ferries to get there, failed to make the cut on one and had to wait an hour for the next, and drove around Unst hitting the sights, it was nearly 6 pm, and I wanted to get back to Mainland before they stopped the ferries. I didn't have time to walk to the wildlife sanctuary. I hope the weather improves tomorrow. I can try again then, or any time, I guess, until Wednesday night, when I will take the ferry to the Orkneys. 

I haven't told you about my situation here in the Valleyfield Guesthouse. It's very friendly, open, and the proprietor, Marina, is a wonderful woman. There's a lot of contact with the other guests, but everyone here now, except for me, is a FIFO worker for one of the companies here. A lot of them seem to work on the windmills or for the government. Anyway, they seem to be well-behaved. Marina keeps them on the straight and narrow. She's been doing this for 40 years, I think, renting most of her rooms to the company lads, and she knows exactly how it works. (Her guest house is more like a home for them; a lot more soulful than some of the accommodation provided by the companies, male only and, as I hear, liable to descend to toxic masculinity.) I'll ask some of my housemates and Marina if I can take photos, and you may see them below. 

Below are some of the photos I took on Unst. 

I went back to Unst today (using two ferries to get there as you must, and two to get back here to Mainland), hoping to see more puffins. I'd been told they are everywhere in the Hermaness Wildlife reserve, but I did not even see one. And the wind was so srong, I thought it would blow me over the cliff into the cold Atlantic Ocean. My face was so cold, I wore a mask to stop my nose freezing off. 

Well, tomorrow is my last day in The Shetlands. I leave on the 5 pm ferry for the Orkneys, where I will stay for 5 days. 

The Muness standing stone

A reconstruction of a Viking longboat.

My trip is winding down fast now. 

Brae, a fatal flaw, and the things you lose along the way 8ˆ{

I arrived in Lerwick bright and early this morning, having spent the night in a "pod", where I predicted a sleepless night for your informant. 

However, sometimes we are pleasantly surprised. It was a lot more pleasant in Pod Lounge 3 than it was in the public areas of the ship because the temperature was cooler and more conducive to sleep. I just put on the NorthLink Ferries mask, covered myself from head to toe with the provided blanket, and nodded off, thankful that the old guy in front, who'd shown signs of being an open-mouth sleeper and incipient signs of snoring, went away somewhere. 

There were only 5 or 6 people in the whole lounge and there were maybe 30 pods. No-one was in a pod very close to me, and really, it was a surprisingly good way to spend 7 or so hours. (That is, if I didn’t catch COVID from one of the other people breathing my air.)

Today, having navigated a very tricky exit from the hold of the ferry in my big orange car,

 

 

I drove out of the ferry terminal, deciding that I would look for Jimmy Perez’ house immediately because I had no idea where the guest house was, in which I would stay for the next 7 nights. I found the DI’s house straightaway, and the police station. 

 

 I was frightened of trying to wrestle with the Citroen’s Satnav again. (She is almost as useless at directions and is your informant. She doesn’t even understand the British postcodes. Siri does.) Sometimes the Citroen’s Satnav (hereafter “CS”) gets sniffy and won’t let Siri’s voice use the sound system to guide me, so it’s hard to hear Siri’s directions and I can’t see them on the screen. Sometimes CS and Siri compete to give me the same directions. 

 

Well, today, CS didn’t have a fucking clue where I wanted to go, and Siri sent me miles and miles out of my way down single lane roads with bumps in them, to allow traffic to pass in the opposite direction. It was scary. But back to my morning adventure. 

 

So, drove out of the ferry terminal, terrified that I was going to scrape the sides of the hold and collect one of the wee men giving the instructions; drove around a bit, found parking and then found the Jimmy Perez’s house and spent a lovely couple of hours taking photos of the beautiful old granite buildings in Lerwick. Then decided it was time to confront the Satnavs and find the Valleyfield Guest House. 

And here, again, is the fatal flaw. Couldn’t remember where I parked the car! and did not, as Elizabeth has advised me to do, take a photo of the location. I was wandering around, lost, and a kind lady, Eileen, asked me if there was anything wrong. I told her my predicament and she said she could drive me around for a wee while to look for it. Well, that didn’t pan out because I had a completely different memory of where I had parked the car to where I (with the godsent help of Brian) finally found it. 

 

I told Eileen that I didn’t want to take up more of her time and cause her more trouble and asked her if she’d drop me at the police station. With the details of the parking spot that I remembered (although these were minutiae and not helpful in finding the location unless someone present has more local knowledge) I thought the police might be able to solve the case.

 

I remembered that I parked at a 90-degree angle to the kerb. (There are a limited number of parking places like this in Lerwick because the streets are so narrow.) I remembered the street was very wide. (This was a false memory. It wasn’t.) I remembered that the parking space next to where I parked the car was for EV charging. (There are few of these chargers in Lerwick.) I remembered that the walk to Jimmy Perez’s house was very quick.) 

 

Back to Eileen. She dropped me at the police station. I went in. It looked deserted. There was a sign to ring the bell ONCE! If the office is unattended. I rang. And I sat and waited for about ten minutes and then I thought, well, I’ll just try once more. I hope they don’t arrest me for troublemaking. I waited another five or ten minutes and no-one came, so I thought I’d ring a taxi company to drive me around to look for the car. Then I realised I couldn’t see the numbers on the screen. Why? Because the second spare pair of glasses that I’d been holding in Eileen’s car, I let slip from my grasp. 

 

Just then a policewoman came to the counter. I explained the situation to her. She asked a few questions about streets, etc., that I was useless at answering. (In my defence, there are very few street names marked in Lerwick.) Then she just disappeared again without saying where she was going. She was out for another 10 minutes or so it seemed. And I sat down again, with my now useless phone. Finally, she came back and said that her colleague was going to go out in the van and he could drive me around to see if I remembered anything. (That was a futile hope, if “anything” meant something related to spacial coordinates.)

 

Got into the van with the officer—Brian, from Glasgow originally--and told him the minutiae I’d carefully noted when I failed to note the location of the parking spot. He drove me around. I showed him a photo of the car. He asked me if I remembered going here? There? Finally, Brian got a brainwave. He rounded a corner and there was the big orange Citroen, waiting where I’d left i 

Then, I popped into a bookshop in town, bought some reading glasses (strength 2.5) and finally arrived here at Valleyfield Guest House & Chalets, in a journey that took more than twice the time it should have, partly, I think, because the address on AirBnB is Brae, but it's not, in fact, right in Brae. Brae is about five minutes down the road. 

 

The door to the guest house was open but there was no-one around. I went inside and tried to ring Marina, the proprietor, but I had no reception. I went outside and was able to call. Left a message at one number and got a message that I had dialled the wrong number at the second number. Marina returned the call while I was outside, so that was a lucky break. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have got the call. She told me I was in room 3, that everything was open, to make myself at home, and that she’d see me tonight.

 

I did get a pleasant surprise, though. I had thought that I would have to share a bathroom, but my room, room 3, has its own ensuite. When I found the accommodation, it was the only bed available on-line, on the whole island, so I booked a room with shared bathroom. I guess because I'm staying a week, Marina juggled other bookings and gave me an ensuite room. 

Aberdeen: Golf Mad

This is Alnwick Castle in Northumberland which I visited a few days ago.

Sitting in Molly’s Malone’s , Aberdeen last evening. Came up from Edinburgh on the train the day before yesterday. Couldn’t book a seat. Not sure if it was because A Big Golf Tournament was being played in St Andrews. 

I had a hard time picking up my train ticket on Saturday. Scotrail has not been immune from the troubles afflicting Sydney airport and Heathrow. Too many people laid off over the last couple of years and not enough people working now. I bought a ticket online, but unlike the other tickets I’ve bought online, I was not given the option of an electronic ticket. I was told I would have to get the paper ticket from a machine in the ticket office.

I arrived early at Edinburgh Waverley Station, which was lucky for me because some of the people standing in line because the machines had not delivered their tickets were in danger of missing their trains by the time they got to front of the line to tell a human about their problem. 

In my case the problem was I had paid by PayPal. They had informed me that I was to bring in the credit card I had used to buy ticket, but I had bought it on PayPal and PayPal is not a credit card company!

Eventually  I got to the front of the queue and found the correct platform number, though the guy who gave me my ticket told me a different number.

However, finally having alighted on the correct platform, I made sure I was within coee of the front of the queue to enter the train, short of tripping the ninety-year-old with the walking stick, who was also after finding himself a good perch. 

The English blokes opposite offered me a glass of their wine, but I had my own, so I accepted a plastic cup. I, too, had brought a half bottle of liquid refreshment in my luggage, and decided I may as well celebrate having bagged a seat for the next two and a half hours.

On the bus in Edinburgh. A few drops only so far. And today and tomorrow supposed to produce catastrophic heat, though not here in Aberdeen.

On the train to Aberdeen, Julie sat next to me. She comes from Aberdeen, but has been living and working in Texas for the last 20 years. She is back for a holiday to see friends and family. 

Julie said she was getting over drinking too much the night before, so I had my half bottle to myself  Then I heard the reason the train was so full: The British Open is playing in St. Andrews, apparently the “birthplace of golf”.   

And here is what I found out about that Big Golf Tournament: it’s called the PGA Tour, and it’s news here, although in Maggie’s Malone’s Aberdeen,  they were showing a football match between two Australian women’s teams on two of their 8 big screens. I realise now that the PGA Tour must also have been big news in Oz because the winner is an Aussie. 

Can you imagine the cacophony that was all around me from EIGHT big screens with their commentary, a soundtrack of pop music, and the chanting and singing from LOTS of people getting slowly (or fastly) into the spirit. 

Well, it's the morning after now, and I'm getting ready to go pick up my rental car. I'm off to the Shetlands tomorrow and today, I think I'll visit a castle in the vicinity: Dunnotar Castle. It was recommended to me by Julie. There's also a bird watching nature reserve that I might visit, too. 

And this is the most absurd photo that I've taken so far. It's hard for me to believe, even though I saw it on the walk to Dunstanburgh Castle in Northumberland.

Buses, Bridges and a Castle

 I am so exhausted by 10 o'clock every night that I cannot keep my eyes open. My knees ache, my back aches. I don't find myself awake at 3 a.m. like I often do at home. I walk all day, or sit in a bus for a while and then walk. 

Today I bought the all-day bus ticket again, which costs about five quid. This makes getting around very economical. With the Lothian bus app, like the London transport app, you can work out how to get exactly where you need to go, how long it will take and track your journey on the bus, so that you know exactly where to get off. The bus stops all have names and letters identifying them, and there is a recording announcing them as the bus approaches. They're also announced on a screen at the front of the bus. I think they've got the signage and announcements sorted much better than we have. I can never understand the announcements on the trains: the sound system is crap, and they rely on the drivers to make the announcements in Sydney--and many of the drivers don't speak English as well as my students--whereas here they have a recording made by a professional speaking a standard dialect. It's so easy to understand.

The Lothian bus app generally works very well, except when there's construction--and there is so much construction--when they trickily move the bus stop without changing the app information. 

Today I took off early to see the Forth Bridge. I didn't realise until I arrived that I would not be able to walk the Forth (Railway) Bridge, nor that there are three bridges all together: two road bridges (which look like twins) and one railway bridge. I wanted to walk across the red one--the railway bridge--and my home research did not alert me to the fact that no-one can walk that bridge. 

It was raining this morning, so I had a rather soggy walk after I got off the bus. There were no cafes open when I first arrived, although a proprietor let me in to his place even though he wasn't yet open, saying he could get me a coffee and I could have a cake, if I wanted, but he couldn't organise anything hot from the kitchen yet. I had a coffee and a walnut coffee cake, which was quite satisfying, and it was mercifully dry inside. 

It was a long walk to the Forth Road Bridge and it was raining all the way. I walked half way across and then back to catch the bus into the city. I had lunch at an Indian place in the old town, and went to Edinburgh Castle for my 2:00-2:30 entry slot. 

I'll love you and leave you now because I must lay my weary head down. 

Edinburgh

 My second night here. I find the city overwhelming: the height of the buildings and the distances to be walked, most uphill. I am cultivating a large blister on my right little toe. Have wrapped it in a bandaid but it's still not a happy chappy, the result of my walking everywhere yesterday before I downloaded the Lothian bus and tram app, and learned how to get around in a little more comfort.

I went to the old town by bus this morning, intending to visit Edinburgh Castle, but I was unable to get a reservation, so I reserved my entry for between 2:00 and 2:30 pm, tomorrow. 

As I couldn't get into the castle, I went up to have a look at the Camera Obscura, along with multiple families--all with many children. It's the second Camera Obscura I have seen. The other was in Havana, so I guess I'm two-thirds of the way into a new collection.

This morning I booked my trip to the Shetlands, rather stupidly, I think, without having booked my accommodation.  I was unable to score a cabin on the ferry, which is rather sad because the trip takes 12 hours, I think. However, in lieu of a nice private, quiet and and totally horizontal bed, I did get a pod. 

I didn't know what a pod might pacifically entail at first: something like a coffin? However, the online photos showed something resembling an airline seat, with more legroom. Not I need very much of that.

Apparently the pod area is sectioned off from the area where the other travellers, who didn't book a pod, are, so I'm hoping I'll be able to sleep a bit. Wasn't able to get the car on the same ferry as me. No more car space available, so I'll go on the passenger ferry and the car will go on the cargo ferry. 

So far, so good, I thought. At least I can get there. 

However, when I tried to book accommodation, all the booking sites: Booking.com, Hotel.com, Trivago.com, etc, all had no availability for the dates I needed. I had already paid (a lot) for the ferry; now I started to think I would have to sleep in the car while on the island. 

Finally, I managed to get a room, with a shared bathroom, on Airbnb. (There was only one availability there, so my options were somewhat limited.) I haven't shared a bathroom in many years, and I wouldn't  have agreed to it unless I was desperate. Also, the accommodation is not where I wanted it to be, but I can't be too picky. It was that or try to get a refund from the ferry company, and not go to the Shetlands at all. 

Northumberland Castles

 I'm on the 13:35 pm train from York to Edinburgh. Dropped off the rental car, and left my reading glasses in that tricky compartment under the rear vision mirror, as I always do in my own car at home. Well, I did bring my second pair, just in case. The scouts are right: BP!

Spent yesterday derving round to all the castles I knew of in the vicinity of Seahouses, where I was staying. There was Bamburgh Castle, Alnwick Castle, Dunstanburgh Castle and Lindisfarne Castle. 

Only saw Bamburgh from the outside while I strolled through the wildflowers along the coastal path early in the morning. It looked forbidding. Truth be known, I was not really looking to walk around lavishly furnished rooms hung with the portraits of in-bred ancestors, and gawp at collections of silverware and china. But the view of the castle on the cliff above the sea was spectacular.

I'm really more interested in castle ruins, and those were my favourites: Lindisfarne Castle, which again, unfortunately, I only got to look at from the outside--I will tell you the that story below--and Dustanburgh Castle. 

So, Lindisfarne Castle (at left) is on Holy Island, which is reached over a causeway, only accessible at low tide. I had been told the time by which I had to leave the island if I didn't want to spend 8-10 hours there waiting for the tide to go down enough to reveal the causeway. They told me I had to leave by 12:00 noon. By the time I got to the carpark, it was 10:30. The carpark was in the village, a couple of kilometres from the castle. Well, that is the way of things here: the streets are narrow. There are a few spaces by the side of some roads, but generally parking is as scarce as hen's teeth. It's not uncommon for the parking for a venue to be several kilometres away and you have to pay for it as well as entry to the attraction. 

According to English Heritage "Lindisfarne. . . is one of the most important centres of early English Christianity" 

So I walked as fast as my little fat legs would carry me behind the others who had paid and displayed at the carpark. I was very mindful of the time limit and wished that I had got there earlier, but what can you do? 

Lindisfarne Castle was amazing. The whole island: the beach, the fields, the stone walls were a fairytale. And great for  black and white photography. 

Dustanburgh Castle was another delight. I got there late afternoon and the beautiful light, the clouds were what photographers hope for. This is Dunstanburgh below. 

I'm in Edinburgh now. Arrived yesterday on the train. Have made a mistake with the accommodation. It's very from the Royal Mile and all the things I want to see. Working out the buses is going to be a bit tricky. You have to pay with exact change, and I hadn't even used cash until yesterday. In London you can just tap your debit or credit card to pay your fare, just like in Sydney, so I didn't need to handle cash. 

Beautiful York

Above is Lendal Bridge at dawn. 

Stayed in York for a couple of days and left this morning. I picked up a rental car--a Kia hybrid. From York I drove to the Northumberland Coast (Vera country), where I am now ensconced in Seahouses. I'll stay here for a couple of nights. 

I had to leave York. Staying any longer might have killed me. Too much beauty, too many photos to take, and my left shoulder had been bothering me. Had a couple of Panadols and a bath this morning before I left York,  hoping to stave off the ache, but I could still feel it niggling there beneath the shoulder blade, even as I typed a draft of this blog entry. 

I'll have to limit myself to the smallest camera and lens today: no tripod or heavy birding lens. (That was my intention this morning, and it's very lucky that I'm so absent-minded that I left the camera in the car when I walked up to Whitby Abbey.) I took lots of photos with my phone, without the dire consequences I've suffered for the past couple of days when taking photos with my cameras.

Yesterday, as I told you, I booked a 4:00 pm boat ride up the river Ouse. York is very pretty, but the weather was extremely hot--30 degrees. The passengers were all wilting.

I sat next to a family with a couple of kids. One little boy looked as if he was burning up. His face was covered with red spots. He didn't seem to like the hat he was wearing and kept taking it off. I told the father that the little boy looked very hot. He nodded. Later his mother said: "He's got chicken pox. Have you had it?"

As the only solo traveller on the boat, I drew attention to myself, I suppose. There were families, couples, and couples of couples. I also looked a bit scruffier than the run of other grandmotherly types on board. I suppose I gave off the vibe of an ageing hippy. 

Well, I ordered and sipped my (slightly warm, unfortunately) Prosecco. And when the 45-minute trip was about to wind up, an Italian-Englishman who had ordered a bottle or two and hadn't managed to finish it all with his family, offered me a glass, at the behest of his wife.

We chatted, for some reason, in Spanish. --He started it. 

When I got back to shore, I walked down to to Sainsbury's to find some dinner, and, of course, a bottle of Prosecco. (It was really really tiny, just a couple of mouthfuls, but it did put me to sleep last night.) I woke up at 3 a.m. in my day clothes.

Have just arrived in Seahouses. So different driving here, though. When I drive in Oz, I'm always pulling over to the side of the road to take photos so my journeys always take nearly twice as long as planned. 

Here, there is no side of the road, so I just keep driving. Today I had to pass a double-decker bus on a road really only wide enough for one vehicle. I guess it's good that I couldn't stop anywhere because it's given my shoulder a break, and I have no pain at the moment. 

Ok, I'm going to wind this up with a rather moody shot of Whitby Abbey. It was inspiration for Dram Stoker to write "Dracula".

Hot, hot, hot!

28 degrees today and blue skies. The sky is still blue, now, at 9:20 pm and a half moon is peeking down on me from over the other side of the building.

Got up early as usual--4 a.m.--and made a list of what I'd do. Decided to go to Hampstead Heath, since the Camden Community Markets didn't open until 10. I lugged out the big camera so I could shoot wildlife, and planned the bus journey. 

I found a great app called, spookily enough, "London". Tells you which transport to catch, how to get to the bus stop or station from where you are, and tracks the bus stops while you're riding so that you know where to get off. Amazing! What a world we live in. Now, if they could invent smartphones that live a little longer than a couple of hours if you're using GPS. . . That would be a thing! 

When I got to Hampstead Heath, I realised it was quite a big deal, my morning excursion. The heath is big and there was a lot of trekking uphill in bright sunshine. People everywhere running, swimming in the ponds, throwing balls for their dogs to fetch. Trees, birds, squirrels, and me with my big camera panting in the heat. 

I mentioned in the last entry that I have a very poor sense of direction, and you who know me well will understand the depth of my ineptitude. Google maps has made it worse. I'm even less likely to take note of my surroundings now that I can rely on the app. My smartphone has made me stupider! I used google maps to find my way around the heath, otherwise I might have been lost there forever.

It wasn't long until I felt the old malady. Strange: the dull pain under the left shoulder blade makes me feel like I want to vomit. I can't do much about it except sit down, rest, and stop turning the lens ring. I guess it's like tennis elbow to a tennis enthusiast. So, I stopped walking, sat under a tree and waited for the birds to come to me. Easier than walking, but the nausea was still there. And when I thought of the long trek I'd have to make to get back to the bus stop, I felt a little sicker. 

I walked slowly down Parliament Hill, resting on the way on a bench which seemed to have been placed there for my comfort. I eventually found my way to the bus stop and back to the suite, where I rested for a little while, then, having found my mojo again, I took the same bus route--46--to go to Camden Community Markets. 

What a crush of people! Food, everywhere but nowhere to sit and eat it, except on the footpath. I wandered around a bit, took what photos I could, and then followed the tow path from Camden Lock to, what I then realised, was Regents Canal, which I had intended to walk while in London, but had forgotten to schedule it. Regents Canal goes for about 17 km, but I didn't have the energy to do the whole length. I walked along a little and then walked up a set of stairs to the street, hoping to see a bus stop or a tube station. I was disappointed. The London app told me I'd have to walk for 20 or 30 minutes just to get to the bus stop, but I couldn't find the one it wanted me to go to. I decided I'd have to walk back to William Goodenough House, which the google maps said would take me 40 minutes. And then the phone ran out of juice and died. 

Now, I still had my very poor sense of direction, but I had no way of telling where I was or how I would get back to the accommodation. I have very little understanding of the layout of London after two days relying on google maps and the London transport app. I thought maybe if I took a bus to anywhere, I'd
reach a tube stop or another bus stop which would get me closer to where I desperately wanted to be. I was hot, thirsty and tired. 

As I was ambling down the Euston Road, following the shade, I saw "The British Library"--a behemoth of a red brick building. Very impressive! I remembered having seen it on a map, and it wasn't so far from William Goodenough House, where I'm staying, though I thought it was strange at the time that I hadn't chanced upon it while I was walking about.

 I was panting as I trudged through the sunshine and heat to reach the entrance. I thought, well, it's a library. They might have a free paper map which I could use to work out where I was and how far away that was to where I wanted to be. 

I must have looked a sight because as I walked through the door, a bloke who worked there said: "Can I help you?" I told him I was a little bit lost and my phone was dead. He asked me where I wanted to go and I told him. He told me that a hundred metres down the road was St Pancras tube stop and just a little further on was Kings Cross station. He said I could get a train there to Russell Square. 

Actually though, I had passed Kings Cross Station earlier that morning on my first bus ride and remembered it because it was very close to where I'm staying. I thought at the time that I could have walked it in 20 minutes or so. It's where I will have to arrive bright and early tomorrow morning for my train to York. 

So, I walked, thinking that I could walk back to the digs. It's always good to remain positive, even in the light of a crushing inability to understand spatial relationships, don't you think? 

I got close. I got 500 metres away, but I wasn't able to find where I had slept the previous two nights. I asked some shopkeepers but they hardly knew where they were themselves, let alone where Mecklenburg Square was. 

Finally I stopped an Italian woman with a phone and asked her if she'd look it up on Google maps for me. She did, pointed out the route, and she and her husband wished me luck, rather doubtfully I thought, as I set off.

Her directions were great and along with some partial memories of street names that I had seen this morning on the way to the bus, I finally found my way back. 

I closed my eyes for a bit and woke up a couple of hours later.