After thanking Mary profusely, I set off into the cool morning. Wielding my Sustrans map, I cunningly managed to get on NCN route 1 which got me over the Forth Road Bridge. This was curiously empty apart from buses and taxis. Most traffic was on the new bridge whose name escapes me. It was just to the West, while the East was the iconic and proverbial Forth Railway Bridge which pleasantly had trains go across it while I watched. They were only three car locals, so they looked disproportionately small vis-à-vis the overbuilt tubes of the rail bridge. (The Forth Rail Bridge was designed shortly after the Tay Bridge disaster. Consequently, the engineers were over cautious.)
I then hung a left towards Rosyth where I caught sight of The HMS Prince of Wales, a new aircraft carrier being fitted out. Its twin islands are a distinctive feature of the class.
I stopped at the Ship Inn in Limekilns for a coffee. After the barmaid’s first attempt at a latte was far too weak, she became very apologetic. I dismissed it saying that far worse had happened on my trip than a weak latte. She asked what?, to which a replied the rain yesterday. We had a nice chat. The Ship Inn is a small place with probably a hundred or so labels of guest craft beers hanging from the beams. This is particularly impressive as the place only has three pumps for guest beers!
My goal was the National Trust for Scotland town of Culross. It has been restored to something vaguely approximately its glory days in the late 16th century when a George Bruce bought the coal mining rights from the Cistercian Priory, using the latest in high tech mining technology (a horse powered bucket chain) he made a lot of money and convinced James VI to make Culross a royal burgh. This gave George the opportunity to make more money. The good times came to an end when a storm flooded the mine (which extended under the Forth) and Sir George (as he had become) died in the same year. Culross declined after that until being preserved and restored by the National Trust starting in the 1930s.
There occurred to me afterwards, that there was a problem or at least curious things with the above narrative as provided by the NTS. George Bruce bought the concession from the Cistercians in 1575, which was after the installation of Protestantism in Scotland. I need to investigate who actually sold him the mining rights.
Anyway, thanks to the National Trust Cultoss is now a preserved town with some streets cobbled in such a manner as make the Paris-Roubaix seem like seamless tarmac to cyclists. The town and some of the buildings, especially Sir George Bruce’s “palace”, have been used in many film and TV productions including (sigh) Outlander.
Leaving Culross by the road past the ruined priory, I climbed away from the annoyingly variable coastal NCN route I had taken to Culross. My goal was another NCN route further inland. This proved to be an old railway bed (thank you Dr. Beeching) which brought me to Dunfermline in short order. There, I rejoined the NCN 1 North. This took me by country roads up a series hills arranged in steps up to a vista of Loch Leven and a whee! down to Kinloss, my goal for the night.
Monday, 20 August 2018
On the Fringe
I sent much of yesterday morning chilling in Mary’s flat. I feel a connection with her as she has a love of books and the spirit of a librarian. Seriously, she offered me a clipping from the Sunday Telegraph with an article about driving in the North of Scotland.
I eventually emerged into the fine rain to first buy a shirt at M&S, then a ticket for the bike and I from Edinburgh to London. Lunch at a Turkish kebab place near the South Bridge followed.
While was there, I poured over the Fringe Festival Program trying to decide which shows would tickle my fancy. The Fringe Festival has an unbelievable number of shows. To give you an idea, there are more than 300 venues, large and small. The shows are typically about 50 minutes. Performances start at about noon and run until quite late. Do the math, then try to decide among acts you haven’t heard of for the most part. I ended up selecting four shows that day.
Which was probably one too many.
The first was Camilla Cleese and Steve Hofstetter. They each did a stand-up set. The draw was of course Camilla, daughter of John Cleese. She has inherited her father’s height and introversion. Her father was also a source of her material. Both were very good.
The second show was A Very Brexit Musical put on by Cambridge University students. That was the only dud as I didn’t have enough knowledge to catch the references. It took me half the show to figure out that the PM who was daft enough to call the referendum was David Cameron. Boris Johnson was a too obvious buffoon in a bike helmet and high-viz vest. I also couldn’t relate to Elizabeth May as a vamp.
The next show was Police Cops by the Pretend Men. The Pretend Men are a three-man troupe of talented lunatics (and I say that with affection) who mercilessly parodied buddy cop films with skill and dexterity. Part of the performance involved dance. It also involved many character changes. Rave.
The last was the only show I had any reference to, and that was a review in the paper. Raymond and Mr. Timkins present Ham was a crazy show. They were miming a narrative to a very mixed soundtrack of popular song snippets which were appropriate to the various props presented with exquisite timing. So rave again.
Weather, meh.
I might just plan my next visit to Edinburgh to coincide with the Fringe. Damn sight better than Just for Laughs.
I eventually emerged into the fine rain to first buy a shirt at M&S, then a ticket for the bike and I from Edinburgh to London. Lunch at a Turkish kebab place near the South Bridge followed.
While was there, I poured over the Fringe Festival Program trying to decide which shows would tickle my fancy. The Fringe Festival has an unbelievable number of shows. To give you an idea, there are more than 300 venues, large and small. The shows are typically about 50 minutes. Performances start at about noon and run until quite late. Do the math, then try to decide among acts you haven’t heard of for the most part. I ended up selecting four shows that day.
Which was probably one too many.
The first was Camilla Cleese and Steve Hofstetter. They each did a stand-up set. The draw was of course Camilla, daughter of John Cleese. She has inherited her father’s height and introversion. Her father was also a source of her material. Both were very good.
The second show was A Very Brexit Musical put on by Cambridge University students. That was the only dud as I didn’t have enough knowledge to catch the references. It took me half the show to figure out that the PM who was daft enough to call the referendum was David Cameron. Boris Johnson was a too obvious buffoon in a bike helmet and high-viz vest. I also couldn’t relate to Elizabeth May as a vamp.
The next show was Police Cops by the Pretend Men. The Pretend Men are a three-man troupe of talented lunatics (and I say that with affection) who mercilessly parodied buddy cop films with skill and dexterity. Part of the performance involved dance. It also involved many character changes. Rave.
The last was the only show I had any reference to, and that was a review in the paper. Raymond and Mr. Timkins present Ham was a crazy show. They were miming a narrative to a very mixed soundtrack of popular song snippets which were appropriate to the various props presented with exquisite timing. So rave again.
Weather, meh.
I might just plan my next visit to Edinburgh to coincide with the Fringe. Damn sight better than Just for Laughs.
Saturday, 18 August 2018
On planes and trains
It was raining when I left North Berwick. The town has been a holiday haunt for many years. I passed one symbol of this in the form of a roofless stone church. It had been the local parish church for the Church of Scotland. However, the congregation had outgrown it, so they built a new one, recycling some of the materials from the old one. However, they left the shell because they thought it would be a nice romantic ruin for the tourists! This was circa 1880!
I was heading for Edinburgh, but as it was a short day, I decided to take in the Museum of Flight which was slightly off my route but well worth the detour. Among other things, it has G-BOAA, one of British Airways Concordes on display and their pride and joy. One of the guides was able to answer a question that had been in my mind since seeing another Concorde in Seattle: why didn’t they replace the big and heavy 1960s electronics with modern ones and then add a row or two of seats when they had to refurbish the planes after the Air France crash? It seems that the idea was explored but deemed too expensive. The museum has two other jetliners that I wasn’t allowed into. A BAC-111 and a Comet 4C. The Comet was parked next to one of the two Avro Vulcan bombers which actually used weapons in anger. During the Falklands War, it had made Black Buck raids. These involved an intricate series of inflight refuelings in which mandated tankers having to refuel other tankers in order to refuel tankers to refuel the bomber. On its last mission, this bomber damaged its refueling probe on the way back. This resulted in an emergency landing in Brazil. As Brazil was a neutral with Argentinian sympathies, the plane was interned for about a week, then released on the promise that it wouldn’t be used in the conflict again.
There were a number of other interesting exhibits including a real-time video about Loganair flying Islanders from Westray in the Orkneys to Papa Westray. This flight is the record books as the shortest scheduled flight at two minutes! In the Concorde Hangar, there was the forward fuselage of a Boeing 707 with an exhibit about the "glory days" of jet travel, particularly from the crews’ perspective. I was very surprised that in those days, in first class you not only got free drinks but also free cigarettes! I think I should have expected that one, particularly as I flew over in business class this time. Combined with the presentation of the elite clientele of the Concorde, it gave me a view of wealthy travellers. There was also a Panavia Tornado F3 on display. I was able to look under its fuselage and examine the recesses where it had carried air-to-air missiles semi-conformally. I had long been curious where the top fins went when missiles were carried like that. It turns out that there is a deeper bit of the recess to accommodate the fins.
Anyway, I enjoyed the museum longer than I expected. Consequently, I was behind schedule to get to cousin Lady Mary’s flat in Edinburgh and as more rain was threatening (it had cleared), I opted to take the train from Prestonpans into Edinburgh. Mary made me welcome and after supper, urged me to partake of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I took in a stand-up routine nominally about sport by James Nokise, a Kiwi of Samoan extraction. The jokes were good but the venue was overly hot. I am currently in the Cumberland Bar from which I have previously blogged. That time, the UK was temporarily without a Prime Minister.
I was heading for Edinburgh, but as it was a short day, I decided to take in the Museum of Flight which was slightly off my route but well worth the detour. Among other things, it has G-BOAA, one of British Airways Concordes on display and their pride and joy. One of the guides was able to answer a question that had been in my mind since seeing another Concorde in Seattle: why didn’t they replace the big and heavy 1960s electronics with modern ones and then add a row or two of seats when they had to refurbish the planes after the Air France crash? It seems that the idea was explored but deemed too expensive. The museum has two other jetliners that I wasn’t allowed into. A BAC-111 and a Comet 4C. The Comet was parked next to one of the two Avro Vulcan bombers which actually used weapons in anger. During the Falklands War, it had made Black Buck raids. These involved an intricate series of inflight refuelings in which mandated tankers having to refuel other tankers in order to refuel tankers to refuel the bomber. On its last mission, this bomber damaged its refueling probe on the way back. This resulted in an emergency landing in Brazil. As Brazil was a neutral with Argentinian sympathies, the plane was interned for about a week, then released on the promise that it wouldn’t be used in the conflict again.
There were a number of other interesting exhibits including a real-time video about Loganair flying Islanders from Westray in the Orkneys to Papa Westray. This flight is the record books as the shortest scheduled flight at two minutes! In the Concorde Hangar, there was the forward fuselage of a Boeing 707 with an exhibit about the "glory days" of jet travel, particularly from the crews’ perspective. I was very surprised that in those days, in first class you not only got free drinks but also free cigarettes! I think I should have expected that one, particularly as I flew over in business class this time. Combined with the presentation of the elite clientele of the Concorde, it gave me a view of wealthy travellers. There was also a Panavia Tornado F3 on display. I was able to look under its fuselage and examine the recesses where it had carried air-to-air missiles semi-conformally. I had long been curious where the top fins went when missiles were carried like that. It turns out that there is a deeper bit of the recess to accommodate the fins.
Anyway, I enjoyed the museum longer than I expected. Consequently, I was behind schedule to get to cousin Lady Mary’s flat in Edinburgh and as more rain was threatening (it had cleared), I opted to take the train from Prestonpans into Edinburgh. Mary made me welcome and after supper, urged me to partake of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I took in a stand-up routine nominally about sport by James Nokise, a Kiwi of Samoan extraction. The jokes were good but the venue was overly hot. I am currently in the Cumberland Bar from which I have previously blogged. That time, the UK was temporarily without a Prime Minister.
Friday, 17 August 2018
On North Berwick
Yesterday was a success on the whole. I lost the NCN leaving Berwick-upon-Tweed and found myself on the busy but manageable A1. It soon brought me to Scotland where there was rest area for people to photograph themselves in front of a sign saying “Welcome to Scotland”. There was a coach load of young East Asians doing just that. There were three flagpoles each with the Scottish flag on it. Across the road, the reciprocal rest area also had three flags. However, there it was a Union Jack, a St-George flag and the yellow and red flag of Northumberland.
I left the A1 at Burnmouth where I returned to the NCN and smaller roads. There was a lovely bit on the A1107 with gorgeous views in bright sunshine of the North Sea. The NCN route 76 then took me down a winding, narrow road which made me glad for the disc brakes! At the bottom was a ford and the Pease Bay holiday camp. I could have done without the climb out of Pease Bay.
NCN route 76 then paralleled, more or less the A1 for some distance, with a lot ducking and weaving to avoid a quarry, the A1, the East Coast Mainline and a nuclear power station. I had a late lunch in Dunbar, then made way to North Berwick where my cousin Donald was waiting. He and his wife Dominique live up to the family tradition of hospitality and then some. In short, I was made welcome. It was a good end to a sunny day.
Today has been grey, cool and windy, with a few drops, and the threat of more. In fact, in Edinburgh, it has been quite wet. Thankfully, I was in North Berwick.
I climbed North Berwick Law, an impressive steep hill of some 600 odd feet just to the South of town. It was a stiff climb and as I looked out over the Firth of Forth, I pitied the poor sods who had built the two abandoned buildings near the summit. One was part of a nunnery. The other was a WWII era observation post. Given the steep slope, I guessed that all materials would have had to be manhandled up.
Coming down into town, I stopped by Law Cycles as Leonardo had having problems with the lower gears. From my description of the issue, David the mechanic diagnosed a bent hanger. This sounded sensible so I went back to my B&B to fetch the bike and my spare hanger, just in case. David fixed the problem while I had lunch. He mentioned that my rear brake pads were worn which caught my attention. I had spare pads, but had never replaced them. Looking at the brakes, I realized that I really didn’t know how one went about it. I therefore asked him to show me how. He was happy to oblige. I think that I would be able to do it myself next time but would take three times as long. So here’s a rave review for Law Cycles! http://www.lawcycles.co.uk
I then took Leonardo over to Tantallon Castle which was quite interesting in the ways of castles at the end of the castle era. It had last been used in 1651, when General Monck shot it into surrender.
Coming back into North Berwick, I spotted a bird dragging its wing along the ground. Thinking it was something like a kildeer faking injury to draw away people away, I stopped to take a look and a photograph. However, a closer look revealed it to be a small raptor with a genuinely injured wing. It was near a bus stop sign with a stop number so I photographed that as well. I wasn’t sure who was one was supposed to call, so I went down to the Scottish Seabird Centre on the grounds that they would know. One of them did, and volunteered to go and get the sparrow-hawk as he identified it from my picture.
So a good day, on the whole, though not for the poor sparrow-hawk.
I left the A1 at Burnmouth where I returned to the NCN and smaller roads. There was a lovely bit on the A1107 with gorgeous views in bright sunshine of the North Sea. The NCN route 76 then took me down a winding, narrow road which made me glad for the disc brakes! At the bottom was a ford and the Pease Bay holiday camp. I could have done without the climb out of Pease Bay.
NCN route 76 then paralleled, more or less the A1 for some distance, with a lot ducking and weaving to avoid a quarry, the A1, the East Coast Mainline and a nuclear power station. I had a late lunch in Dunbar, then made way to North Berwick where my cousin Donald was waiting. He and his wife Dominique live up to the family tradition of hospitality and then some. In short, I was made welcome. It was a good end to a sunny day.
Today has been grey, cool and windy, with a few drops, and the threat of more. In fact, in Edinburgh, it has been quite wet. Thankfully, I was in North Berwick.
I climbed North Berwick Law, an impressive steep hill of some 600 odd feet just to the South of town. It was a stiff climb and as I looked out over the Firth of Forth, I pitied the poor sods who had built the two abandoned buildings near the summit. One was part of a nunnery. The other was a WWII era observation post. Given the steep slope, I guessed that all materials would have had to be manhandled up.
Coming down into town, I stopped by Law Cycles as Leonardo had having problems with the lower gears. From my description of the issue, David the mechanic diagnosed a bent hanger. This sounded sensible so I went back to my B&B to fetch the bike and my spare hanger, just in case. David fixed the problem while I had lunch. He mentioned that my rear brake pads were worn which caught my attention. I had spare pads, but had never replaced them. Looking at the brakes, I realized that I really didn’t know how one went about it. I therefore asked him to show me how. He was happy to oblige. I think that I would be able to do it myself next time but would take three times as long. So here’s a rave review for Law Cycles! http://www.lawcycles.co.uk
I then took Leonardo over to Tantallon Castle which was quite interesting in the ways of castles at the end of the castle era. It had last been used in 1651, when General Monck shot it into surrender.
Coming back into North Berwick, I spotted a bird dragging its wing along the ground. Thinking it was something like a kildeer faking injury to draw away people away, I stopped to take a look and a photograph. However, a closer look revealed it to be a small raptor with a genuinely injured wing. It was near a bus stop sign with a stop number so I photographed that as well. I wasn’t sure who was one was supposed to call, so I went down to the Scottish Seabird Centre on the grounds that they would know. One of them did, and volunteered to go and get the sparrow-hawk as he identified it from my picture.
So a good day, on the whole, though not for the poor sparrow-hawk.
Wednesday, 15 August 2018
On a successful Red Sea crossing
Today was a day for touristing. First off was Bamburgh Castle as restored by the 1st Lord Armstrong, weapons merchant, scientist, engineer, businessman, philanthropist and shipbuilder. The site had been a fortress for time immemorial, predating the Angles, as Ida the Flamebearer (possible ancestor of Bernard Cornwell) captured it from the Celtic Britons. It was an interesting mix of eras and Victorian wealth. The purist can grouch, but it was interesting to see how the various buildings and rooms had been re-purposed over the years.
It was after twelve before I was done. Consequently, I had a ham and cheese toastie for lunch and headed of for the the Holy Island. I was under a certain time limitation as access to the Island was via a causeway which would be flooded by the tide by 16:20. So it behoved me to get cranking. NCN 1 took me along country lanes and up a 17% grade and around to the causeway which I crossed with the wind behind me.
I visited the Lindisfarne Priory, learnt about St-Aidan and St-Cuthbert and bought some local mead. Then I headed back. I had thoughts about Red Sea Pedestrians and Egyptians as I cranked against the wind. I knew that I was in plenty of time, but the salt water on the road, blown by the wind was preying on my overactive imagination. I made it, of course.
I paused for a break on permanently dry land. I noticed that there was a half dozen bikes of various sizes on the bank across the road behind a minibus. I asked if I might take a picture and fell into a conversation with one of the women. It was part of outing by locals for kids and family. Most of them were going back by van, but she and a boy were going to bike part of the way. Part of this was on a farm path parallelling the road on the NCN 1. We set off together, but I soon left them behind, then was turned off on another farm lane by the NCN 1.
This got smaller and less kempt. Eventually, it became a single track bike path on top of a dike. I was quite glad I had 37 mm wide tires! In front of a farm gate, I encountered a Scot from Aviemore on a pedal-electric bike with a trailer. He was returning home after a summer going around the Baltic. After the gate there was a tarmacked road with a sign warning people going the other way that the area was a former military firing range so please be wary of any unexploded munitions! The Scot and I paced each other to Berwick-upon-Tweed, through the hazards of flying golf balls and across farmers fields. We helped each other with farm gates and the like. Then we got to Berwick and went our separate ways.
Supper was some tasty Indian food.
It was after twelve before I was done. Consequently, I had a ham and cheese toastie for lunch and headed of for the the Holy Island. I was under a certain time limitation as access to the Island was via a causeway which would be flooded by the tide by 16:20. So it behoved me to get cranking. NCN 1 took me along country lanes and up a 17% grade and around to the causeway which I crossed with the wind behind me.
I visited the Lindisfarne Priory, learnt about St-Aidan and St-Cuthbert and bought some local mead. Then I headed back. I had thoughts about Red Sea Pedestrians and Egyptians as I cranked against the wind. I knew that I was in plenty of time, but the salt water on the road, blown by the wind was preying on my overactive imagination. I made it, of course.
I paused for a break on permanently dry land. I noticed that there was a half dozen bikes of various sizes on the bank across the road behind a minibus. I asked if I might take a picture and fell into a conversation with one of the women. It was part of outing by locals for kids and family. Most of them were going back by van, but she and a boy were going to bike part of the way. Part of this was on a farm path parallelling the road on the NCN 1. We set off together, but I soon left them behind, then was turned off on another farm lane by the NCN 1.
This got smaller and less kempt. Eventually, it became a single track bike path on top of a dike. I was quite glad I had 37 mm wide tires! In front of a farm gate, I encountered a Scot from Aviemore on a pedal-electric bike with a trailer. He was returning home after a summer going around the Baltic. After the gate there was a tarmacked road with a sign warning people going the other way that the area was a former military firing range so please be wary of any unexploded munitions! The Scot and I paced each other to Berwick-upon-Tweed, through the hazards of flying golf balls and across farmers fields. We helped each other with farm gates and the like. Then we got to Berwick and went our separate ways.
Supper was some tasty Indian food.
Tuesday, 14 August 2018
On the Coast of Northumbria
The young German lads only returned from their night on the town at something like 4 in the morning. This woke me up. Given their continued absence had been on my mind as a concern, I felt the punishment fit to the crime was simply to get up at my normal hour and not be terribly concerned about disturbing their slumber as I gathered and packed my clobber.
I rode to beside the Tyne where I picked the trace of NCN (National Cycle Network) and hung a left to follow the river to the North Sea. After a bit the NCN route left riverside and proceeded along a car free trail that I began to suspect was an old railway. I was wrong: it was something far more interesting. It was an old wagonway. Wagonways were a step in the evolution of railways. Simply put, relatively ordinary wagons hauled by horses and gravity ran along wooden and later iron rails. I should have suspected this as the grades were higher than typical for a railway.
(The general Newcastle-on-Tyne area is the birthplace of steam power including railways. I used to think Britain was well placed to have been the local for the development of steam power as it had plenty of the two basic ingredients: coal and iron. I have recently realized that I was wrong. There was a third ingredient in abundant supply: fresh water, a non-trivial thing. Arabia, for example, is unlikely to have been the locale for the development of steam power even if Allah had left clues in the Koran.)
Anyway, the NCN took me past an old Roman fort and its' associated bath. Unfortunately, it was too early to visit the former. The latter had a load of garbage in the parking lot. A dog walker whom I chanced upon was most indignant about the fly-tippers who had left it there.
The NCN routes are frustrating as they can be great and they can be confusing. Also, they tend towards being off-road if at all possible no matter what the added mileage. For the long distance cyclist with high tolerance for traffic this not always needed. Also their signage isn’t as plentiful or clear as it might be. Furthermore, Sustrans (the organization behind the NCN) needs to work on their map design.
However, the NCN got me out of Newcastle-upon-Tyne and onto NCN Route 1. This was at Tynemouth, Newcastle’s sea resort since at least the 1800s. It still is a classic British seaside resort, with the addition of a surfing school and doubtless many other forms of modern entertainment.
I had a light lunch in Blyth. I then skipped a bit of the NCN only to rejoin it at about Lynemouth. Near there I saw a sign for a “Travellers’ caravan site”, (Travellers being a term for the Roma a.k.a. Gypsies.) The route was nicely scenic and there was an assortment of British holidaymakers. Families with children armed with shovels and buckets (the British road sign pictogramme for a beach is a sandcastle), older people out for a brisk walk, cyclists of several breeds, young and old, dog walkers of all ages and many more that I failed to identify.
It had been cloudy for much of the morning and it began to rain. This slowed progress. I stopped for break in Amble, then headed off again in full rain gear. Of course, before I reached the vicinity of Warkworth (no great distance) it stopped.
Around Lesbury, I came upon and stuck to the B1339 as it was a more direct route to Bamburgh than NCN Route 1. I stopped at a garage in Embleton for a snack. The cashier (an older man) assumed I was Dutch after I said I couldn’t tell him how many miles I had ridden since Newcastle as I worked in kilometres. I explained I was Canadian and we had adopted the metric system more than forty years ago. He grumbled about the state of the roads which of course amused me greatly, being from Quebec.
I was getting tired to the point I didn’t want to look at the odometer. It was of great relief to finally see the afternoon sun on Bamburgh Castle as I left Seahouses.
Tomorrow is a short day as I will visit the Castle and the Holy Island of Lindisfarne.
I rode to beside the Tyne where I picked the trace of NCN (National Cycle Network) and hung a left to follow the river to the North Sea. After a bit the NCN route left riverside and proceeded along a car free trail that I began to suspect was an old railway. I was wrong: it was something far more interesting. It was an old wagonway. Wagonways were a step in the evolution of railways. Simply put, relatively ordinary wagons hauled by horses and gravity ran along wooden and later iron rails. I should have suspected this as the grades were higher than typical for a railway.
(The general Newcastle-on-Tyne area is the birthplace of steam power including railways. I used to think Britain was well placed to have been the local for the development of steam power as it had plenty of the two basic ingredients: coal and iron. I have recently realized that I was wrong. There was a third ingredient in abundant supply: fresh water, a non-trivial thing. Arabia, for example, is unlikely to have been the locale for the development of steam power even if Allah had left clues in the Koran.)
Anyway, the NCN took me past an old Roman fort and its' associated bath. Unfortunately, it was too early to visit the former. The latter had a load of garbage in the parking lot. A dog walker whom I chanced upon was most indignant about the fly-tippers who had left it there.
The NCN routes are frustrating as they can be great and they can be confusing. Also, they tend towards being off-road if at all possible no matter what the added mileage. For the long distance cyclist with high tolerance for traffic this not always needed. Also their signage isn’t as plentiful or clear as it might be. Furthermore, Sustrans (the organization behind the NCN) needs to work on their map design.
However, the NCN got me out of Newcastle-upon-Tyne and onto NCN Route 1. This was at Tynemouth, Newcastle’s sea resort since at least the 1800s. It still is a classic British seaside resort, with the addition of a surfing school and doubtless many other forms of modern entertainment.
I had a light lunch in Blyth. I then skipped a bit of the NCN only to rejoin it at about Lynemouth. Near there I saw a sign for a “Travellers’ caravan site”, (Travellers being a term for the Roma a.k.a. Gypsies.) The route was nicely scenic and there was an assortment of British holidaymakers. Families with children armed with shovels and buckets (the British road sign pictogramme for a beach is a sandcastle), older people out for a brisk walk, cyclists of several breeds, young and old, dog walkers of all ages and many more that I failed to identify.
It had been cloudy for much of the morning and it began to rain. This slowed progress. I stopped for break in Amble, then headed off again in full rain gear. Of course, before I reached the vicinity of Warkworth (no great distance) it stopped.
Around Lesbury, I came upon and stuck to the B1339 as it was a more direct route to Bamburgh than NCN Route 1. I stopped at a garage in Embleton for a snack. The cashier (an older man) assumed I was Dutch after I said I couldn’t tell him how many miles I had ridden since Newcastle as I worked in kilometres. I explained I was Canadian and we had adopted the metric system more than forty years ago. He grumbled about the state of the roads which of course amused me greatly, being from Quebec.
I was getting tired to the point I didn’t want to look at the odometer. It was of great relief to finally see the afternoon sun on Bamburgh Castle as I left Seahouses.
Tomorrow is a short day as I will visit the Castle and the Holy Island of Lindisfarne.
On architecture, comments
The volunteer near the door of Durham Cathedral made a disbelieving comment about how much it cost to keep to maintain the place as part of the appeal to donate. I countered that I could easily see it given the size and age of the building. She grumbled that wasn’t it a pity that they had built it out of sandstone. This was also a bit silly as that was what to hand.
I did make a donation to the upkeep.
Newcastle-Upon-Tyne is a city heavily dominated by large Georgian and Victorian commercial buildings to the extent that was pleasantly surprised that any of the titular castle survives. It was started by Robert Curthose, son of William the Conqueror. The surviving bits are now separated by a railway viaduct, but it was nice to see.
Newcastle is also something of a party town judging from the signs near the inside of pub doors saying please be quiet leaving the pub. It also seems to a place for geeks as there are four stores aimed at geeks within fifty feet of my hostel!
I did make a donation to the upkeep.
Newcastle-Upon-Tyne is a city heavily dominated by large Georgian and Victorian commercial buildings to the extent that was pleasantly surprised that any of the titular castle survives. It was started by Robert Curthose, son of William the Conqueror. The surviving bits are now separated by a railway viaduct, but it was nice to see.
Newcastle is also something of a party town judging from the signs near the inside of pub doors saying please be quiet leaving the pub. It also seems to a place for geeks as there are four stores aimed at geeks within fifty feet of my hostel!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)