Canicular
Splash!
Feathered
Marine
Scenic
I think Debbie might have accused me of being too wordy this week, but I don’t mind because the lady produces incredible images, day after day. Someone else who produces very special images is Paula. I haven’t had time for Thursday’s Special – until today.
Have a lovely weekend everyone!
It began with so much angst, and then developed into the most heartwarming experience. Come with me to Poland?
My 12th floor hotel room in Warsaw was wonderfully luxurious but I slept fitfully, with one eye on the clock, as you do when needing to rise early and excited for the journey. Tiny beads of red tail lights trailed into the distance until a hazy dawn crept through my window. Patches of mist nudged the buildings as I gazed down on the city in all its immensity. I made coffee and the mournful tones of Leonard Cohen filled the room as I showered and gathered together my belongings. Downstairs in reception a smiling face awaited. Meg, promptly at 7, to deliver me safely to my coach station, Zachodnie.
Down into the subway we went, that subterranean city maze that bewilders me so, but with Meg by my side it didn’t seem so bad. The ticket lady understood me, and sunlight beamed down on the tracks at Sródmiescie. Two stops later we sat side by side on a bench, speculating on which coach it might be. Trying to cram a world of emotions into dying minutes. Those hugs may have to last us a long time…..
On the bus my neighbour is an elderly Polish lady, who tells me in minute detail about her health and her family. No matter that I can only translate one word in ten. I nod and shake my head vigorously, and attempt a brief family history, and moments later she is fishing in her capacious handbag to pull out a blue and white plastic bracelet with a St. Christopher attached. She presses it upon me. Apparently it will bring me good fortune, but I must look very needy, because immediately she’s back in the bag pulling out a red and white necklace and crucifix too. I am mildly alarmed, wondering if I should offer money or will I give offence and destroy our budding friendship? I risk all and she merely shakes her head. We ride in companionable silence but I am shamefully relieved when she gets off at the first stop….
Two hours later the bus stops on the outskirts of Bełchatów, and lots of passengers climb aboard. An imperious looking lady demands to know where I am getting off and I mumble ‘na centrum’. With a toss of her head she declines to sit next to me and moves on down the bus. She thinks I’m stupid because the bus isn’t going to the centre. I only realise this when a voice from the back of the bus penetrates my consciousness… ‘Johanna! Johanna!’ It is Andrzej, my cousin Jadwiga’s husband, waving his arms frantically. Sent to collect me from the stop, he has had to board the bus to attract my attention. I have arrived….
Things I can do without language…. almost. Sit on the floor and piece together a Snow White jigsaw with a 2 year old. Blow bubbles. Not so successful with the king-sized version- much twirling and blowing, to no avail, but producing gales of laughter from 2 small girls, so a result in entertainment terms. Bounce on a trampoline. Peel potatoes. Eat strawberries and icecream with Marysia and Pawel. Take a walk around the neighbourhood. But the biggest success? Play dominoes with my Uncle Jakub, rolling back the years to when he and Dad played for many an hour. He won, of course! And kiss and cuddle my beloved Aunt Lusia….
Memories…. Andrzej, retired now, with time to ride on his motorbike, feed the rapidly growing ducklings with his granddaughters, and attempt to learn English on his Ipad with Duolingo. Much scratching of head. Silly English language!
His wife, lovely Jadzia, drives the bus for the local school for handicapped children. On an event day in a nearby park, the children flock round her, eager to introduce themselves and curious about her company. They dance with no inhibitions, inside a tent, and drive buggies, under casual supervision. Blond and beautiful, Nadia attracts much attention. Her mind is firmly on candyfloss. ‘Zielony, prosze’ she insists. Green….
Cousin Ewa, quietly but proudly showing me the shell of her home, with its rudimentary furnishings. Her husband Henryk was building it for them when he died 3 years ago, and there is no money to finish it off. The hardware business she was running has failed and she has moved in to the house to save rent. ‘At least I am close to family.’ We sit by the open fire in the garden, bottles of beer in hand, turning the kielbasa on the homemade barbecue as evening fades. Squeals as cousin Marysia plays hide and seek with the children. And then peace….
The neighbourhood….
Cathy is throwing out challenges left and right over at Wander.essence. I thought I would enter this for Prose. Part 2 will follow next week.
You might remember, a few weeks ago, I had the bubbly and delicious company of Gilly on the banks of the River Wisła (Vistula) in Warsaw. Fast forward a mere 5 days and there I was, beside that same river but many miles further south, in Poland’s second city, Kraków. A mighty river, this one, it begins its journey on the Baltic Coast and flows south for 1,022 kilometres (635 miles). How I got there is another story, but my mission today is simply to take you for a wander and, as luck would have it, a boat ride.
Earlier that morning I’d been in Kraków’s green and leafy suburbs, assisting with toddlers aged 3 and 18 months on an outing to the park. Wilting in the heat, the little family had been glad to return home. A cooling drink, then I hopped a bus into a city that never fails to delight me.
With no particular aim in mind, as I approached the river it was almost automatic to jump off. If cooling breezes were to be found anywhere in Kraków, this would be the place. Truth be told, I didn’t get very far before the notion of a glass of wine and an icecream became very appealing indeed. What could be finer than sitting on the deck of a restaurant boat, facing lovely Na Skalce (the Church on the Rock)? The steady hum of traffic crossing Most Grunwaldzki became a soothing murmur. Hooray! Here comes the paddle steamer, big wheels churning. And a burst of speedboat cleaves the water in front of Wawel Castle.
I couldn’t sit there enjoying myself all day. Time to cross over the river. But scarcely was I on the other side than temptation struck again. No, not cake! The first time I ever came to Kraków I walked my husband’s legs off. He was more than happy to agree to a boat ride, just to sit down. Unfortunately on that occasion the ride was accompanied by a light drizzle, whereas this was the perfect day to be afloat. One of those lovely little wooden boats was about to leave the jetty. It was meant to be, and 30zł (about £6) for an hour wasn’t going to break the bank.
The boat sailed in one direction along the river, as far as the Salwator Church, then returned to the jetty. This half hour trip cost 15zł, but if you stayed on board it then sailed in the opposite direction, passing Na Skalce and a sequence of bridges before returning to the jetty. This second leg I found fascinating as the area was less familiar to me. An idea was germinating that I might return the following day to explore on foot.
Trams and trains passed overhead, but it was the bridge Kładka Ojca Bernatka that particularly captured my imagination, and I resolved to come back for a closer look at the figures suspended over the river. A building with an industrial chimney and appearing to be clad in corten steel also caught my eye. On the river bank, the footpath stretches grandly into the distance, stylish riverboat restaurants just calling out to be visited.
Disembarking, I look wistfully up at Wawel Castle. No time today. I am being summoned to ‘obiad’, late afternoon lunch with my Polish family. Walking back to the bus stop I mingle with school trips, and the riverside coach park bustling with vendors. Billboards shout holiday destinations, demanding my attention, but who would willingly leave this fair city?
Come with me next week and we’ll explore the world beyond that beautiful bridge. Meanwhile there are many stories to tell. Thanks for bearing with me as I flit from here to there. I’m grounded now, for a little while, and looking forward to my English summer. I hope you’ve got the kettle on as there are some wonderful walks to share. I’ll go easy on the cake as I over-indulged at an Open Garden event yesterday.
From high in the Alps to the lovely capital of Malta, with my good friend Drake :
You can always rely on Debbie to make life colourful and interesting :
Industry and art come together in Seoul
And for Susan to write beautifully, whatever the weather :
Walking Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park
32 years together! Lady Lee shares a special celebration :
Share an extravaganza of food with Jackie, and then…
Jesh takes a look at life, always in her own unique way :
While Jaspa takes us back in history for a closer look at these ruins :
The Step Pyramid of Djoser – Part of the Saqqara Necropolis, Egypt
Persistence rewarded for Eunice and ruins of an entirely different nature at the end of her walk :
Part 2 – Llanlleiana, Porth Wen, and a long walk
Emma treats us to one of Wales’ great beauty spots, lovely paintings, and even a hang glider ride!
Gower Coastal Walk : Rhossili Bay
Who IS that mysterious lady on the beach? Walking with Meg always makes me smile :
Eurobodalla beaches : around Tuross
It’s a while since Jude took a walk. She’s usually too busy in the garden. Wild orchids and butterflies, a lovely reward :
Another orchid, I think, from my lovely Gilly, enfolded in lushness with a dramatic dragonfly :
And in complete contrast, Cathy finds spellbinding beauty in the desert :
Upper Ute Canyon & the Coke Ovens Trail at Colorado National Monument
A magnificent collection and many thanks to one and all. Join me any time on Jo’s Monday walk and I’ll try to make you welcome. The sun is still shining here in the north east and it’s time I rejoined my English walking group. Wishing you all a lovely week!
It’s been a busy couple of weeks but I’m back, just in time to join in with the very last of Becky’s Square Roofs. I thought I’d share a few roofs that she might be familiar with. Above is the roof top bar at the Maria Nova Hotel in Tavira.
The captions might be helpful, or maybe not. Almost all are in Tavira. The other I have observed fondly for years.
I had a wonderful time and then, to cap it all off, I met Andrew Petcher yesterday. Right here in Hartlepool marina. How very strange is life? Debbie’s Six Words this week are very appropriate. I hope you’ll join us all and have a great weekend.
I’m interrupting my Polish stories to take you briefly to Northumberland. The reason being that it is rhododendron time of year at Cragside, and if we don’t go soon you’ll have missed them. I managed to capture them in the last week of May, when they were looking truly fabulous.
Cragside is rightly famous for being the first home in the world to be lit by hydroelectricity, and makes a fascinating tour. My interest, however, lies in the acres of woodland walks and the formal gardens which surround the house. Former owner, Lord Armstrong, is described as a landscape genius, and I saw nothing to make me dispute that claim.
To get the lie of the land you can take the 6 mile circular carriage drive around the estate. On a sparkling blue sky day it is a sight to behold. Within that there are a selection of waymarked trails and over 40 miles of signposted footpaths. Enough, even for me?
As always I am magnetised by the water and my first stop is Nelly’s Moss, where there are two lakes to walk around. Craggy boulders split the woods and some of the trail is made up of solid stone slabs. No-one to disturb, but a curious duck or two.
No doubt you can tell I’m besotted by the rhododendrons, but the pleasures don’t end there. In fact, they’re just beginning. There’s even a Trim Trail, should you wish to test your fitness levels. Perhaps I shouldn’t define that as a pleasure. I’m content to drive back to the Visitor Centre, fronted by lovely Tumbleton Lake. Parking and restaurant are close by, or you can simply picnic beside the lake. Some folk like to travel in style.
The Armstrong Trail follows Debdon Burn, past the Archimedes Screw and the Pump House, through woodland leading to the Iron Bridge. From here you can climb through the sea of azaleas and rhododendrons up to the house, or you can take a detour to the formal gardens.
I don’t remember these from my long ago visit, but the setting is superb. On a truly radiant day, with the valley below rolling down to Rothbury in the distance, you just want to sit on a bench and breath deeply. No such luxury for the gardening team, but they seem happy in their work, rooting out disobedient weeds. I linger over tubs of tulips, beside a bedraggled rose and among the cool greys of the fernery.
Irridescent colours gleam at me, and it doesn’t really matter that many of the flowers are past their peak. I can still luxuriate in their finery.
I hope you enjoyed sharing Cragside with me. Full details are to be found on the website. Meanwhile I’d like to share another great selection of walks. It’s been a busy but wonderful couple of weeks and I won’t be posting a walk next week. Instead I’ll be taking life a little more easily in the Algarve. Among other things I have a wine tasting session that I need to attend. Time to put the kettle on now, and settle in for a good read.
I always know it’s going to be a great week if it starts with a walk from Debbie :
Wandering around the park at Hellbrunn
Cheese anybody? And don’t miss Jackie’s recipe for Slow Mongolian Beef :
Let’s accompany Janet to the mall next, for some high end?
Monday walk…The Americana at Brand
Jesh is someone who doesn’t take beauty for granted, but often paints it, beautifully :
And speaking of beauty, the happiest of memories brought back for me, from Lady Lee :
#SoCS June 9/18- “start with a noun”
Drake brought back more fond memories, of a long ago week at the Austrian lakes :
While Jaspa unintentionally brought back some not so happy memories of a Greek crisis for me :
Early Morning at The Parthenon, Athens
And Irene brought just a little more heavenly light :
This post from Denzil gives you a choice of 4 walks and a lovely castle. Not bad, hey?
Four walks starting from Horst Castle
Cathy hopes to be fit for the Camino in September, but meantime shares some fabulous views of her native America :
As always, thanks to you all for walking with me and for sharing such wonderful companionship. I need a little time out but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take good care till then.
Last Saturday I was saying a fond farewell to Poland in the rooftop restaurant at Hotel Pod Wawelem, Kraków’. I can highly recommend it, both for the views and the hot apple szarltotka with icecream. You’ll have to wait for that photo and the accompanying walk because this is all about Becky’s Roof Squares. And, of course, to wish you happy Saturday in Six Words (or more).
Apologies to both ladies for the links, as I’ve scheduled this post, while I’m enjoying the high life in Nottingham.
The raw energy of a city is compelling, even if a little intimidating. Riding into Warsaw on the airport bus, my eyes were on stalks, collecting impressions on every side. Such a bustling, modern city, the buildings twisting and turning to point to the blue sky overhead. Anxiety was swept away by excitement. I was here! And I stepped from the bus into the warmth of Meg’s arms, those lovely eyes twinkling at me. All angst was neatly deposited in Meg’s backpack- my tour guide for a day, found!
Turning from her momentarily, the beaming smile of Gilly reached me from across the square, as she descended the steps of the Palace of Culture and Science, arm in arm with her friend Lindy. Gaggling like geese, we blindly followed Meg as she led us from the centre to a restaurant. Puzzling over the menu, we laughed when the wicker basket of knifes and forks arrived, bearing chopsticks in an elegant green wrapper. My efforts to eat my noodle laden broth produced more smiles, along with the slurps. Two thirds of the way through our meal, a mighty crash of thunder and coin drops of rain pounded our table. The wide, creamy umbrellas over the tables were scarcely adequate. More merriment and we scrambled indoors.
In no time, the sun was blazing through the open windows again. Meg was recovering from a heavy cold, and starting to wilt a little, having been tour guiding all day and shown the ladies lovely Stare Miasto in the morning. Lindy was struggling too, which left me and Gilly to get up to mischief. Arrangements were made for early next morning, and Meg deposited us at our hotel. A swift cuppa, and it was time to hit the streets. Already it was 6.30 on a warm Warsaw evening. Fortunately, Gilly was not at all critical of my reckless tour guiding style. Of course the bus would take us to the river! And so it did, with just a little walking involved.
The road stretched ahead, seemingly endless, the traffic buzzing past, the architecture varied and interesting. On the horizon we could see a stadium, which we knew to be on the other side of the river. Praga was not advisable after dusk, I was informed, but reaching the river the greater challenge was to get down to the riverside. With the agility of a monkey, Gilly swung around the barrier and scrambled along the bank, hand over hand along the railings. I followed, more sedately, concerned for my pretty, navy city shoes.
Nobody seemed to notice, and I was immediately at home, with a young crowd blithely enjoying the throng of beach bars, deck chairs and food stalls. Boats bobbed serenely, while overhead trams clanged past and bikes dominated the footpath.
Appetising smells beguiled my nose, but a drink seemed more pressingly urgent, in the sultry evening air. Dusk was beginning to fall, the warmth felt heavy with insects and an awareness that we were far from home. How to get back on the bridge presented something of a challenge, but I dared a few words of Polish and waved my arms at the bridge. The two young men politely gestured to where the steps were hidden. Gilly and I agreed that we would not have chanced it after dark.
What else? Hop another bus to take us nearer to the centre, a little judicious food purchasing and a bit of naughty jay walking. Subways can get tedious, can’t they? But please don’t tell. I’d hate to be in trouble with the authorities. The bottle top on my cider didn’t look promising, but it did unscrew. I had no spoon for the delicious yogurt though. Collapsed in my room with just my diary for company, I really didn’t care.
I hope you enjoyed our adventure. I really didn’t intend to post today, but realising that next Monday I will be on my way to the Algarve, and that I have a fine collection of your walks ready to share, I thought it best. Meantime, I’ll be off to see my daughter in Nottingham on Thursday. And yes, I did manage to get those tickets reprinted. Thank you all for your concern.
Where will we find Lady Lee this week?
A treat or two in store, from lovely Sherri. Anyone else get to the Bash?
Surprises, Diana’s Dresses and the Annual Blogger’s Bash 2018
A bargain ‘two for one’ from Anabel, and both just a short walk apart :
The Kelpies to the Falkirk Wheel
A glimpse of ‘that’ wedding and lots more food, from Jackie :
When Sue shows willing, you simply have to sit up and take notice :
‘Join the fun!’ says Jesh. You know you want to :
Suzanne delights me with fossils, shells and a little Autumn gold :
Calvi and Honfleur- two of the most scenic of places, shared by Drake :
Remember my lovely rhododendrons? Eunice has found me some more :
A quarry walk with a difference
And Carol turns up some interesting treasure of her own :
How do you think of New York? Jane’s wonderful photos show us it’s calmer side :
And a wonderfully scenic hike with Cathy ends in tears, but don’t worry- she’s ok!
The Mt. Sanitas hike in Boulder, Colorado
Not too very sure when I’ll be posting again. Life does seem a little hectic. Meanwhile, enjoy the sunshine, thanks for your company, and I’ll visit you all as soon as I can.
I can’t remember a trip when I was quite so angst-ridden. I do angst very thoroughly, and most trips, unless it’s my beloved Algarve, as the date for departure approaches I lose sleep worrying over the ‘what ifs?’ In my head I’m a control freak, but reality is often far beyond my control.
Lake Czorsztyn in the Pieniny Mountains
I well remember being let loose by the Polish family in the Pieniny Mountains. A trip river rafting in the Dunajec Gorge was in the offing, but where to catch the bus? My other half always reads timetables meticulously and was unconvinced either that we were in the right place, or that the bus would turn up. This despite a visit to Tourist Information to enquire. ‘You’re the one who speaks Polish!’ he said, accusingly. If only this were so! The sun beat down, and we waited. And waited. Eventually a tiny minibus pulled to the curb, destination unknown. We looked at each other. This one? Fortunately a good-hearted, English speaking couple had witnessed our confusion. They were going hiking in the Gorge. “Come on! We’ll tell you where to get off.” Huge relief and, ultimately, one of my best ever days in Poland.
But I digress. What makes this particular trip so worrisome? I had always known that I would return to Dad’s homeland one day, even though Dad was no longer with me. The Polish family were so kind, and so accepting when we walked into their lives after all those years of absence. Dad was welcomed with open arms. Here I was, going back alone, and still without the benefit of Polish language, try as I might to make sense of it.
You might recall from My Call to Poland that I have elderly family. The need to see them is pressing, but I want to cause the least possible inconvenience. This means not flying into Kraków and expecting to be driven 3 and a half hours north to the family home, which is what always happened when Dad was alive. A wild notion had occurred to me. My lovely Australian friend, Meg, was back in Warsaw for 6 weeks. This might be an opportunity to see her again, however briefly. It all hinged on whether I could find transport from Warsaw to Bełchatów. When Gilly leapt, with gay abandon, onto the scene, announcing she had booked 3 days in Warsaw and was going to see Meg, it was just the catalyst I needed.
A sequence of emails took place. Kind Adam, in Kraków, declared that I was welcome in his home at any time. Lovely Jadzia in Bełchatów said that my timing was perfect to celebrate her birthday with her. Meg, more than generously, offered to put me up for the night on my arrival in Warsaw. I didn’t contact Gilly, hoping to surprise her. Now all I had to do was pore over online timetables. Endless timetables! Until my head hurt. It wasn’t simple, but finally I secured a prized bus ticket from a Russian company- the small print indecipherable.
And speaking of language, it was again time to seek out my ‘Colloquial Polish’. I started a course at a local college about 10 years ago and purchased the required book. The course was discontinued, due to funding, long before I reached the end of the book, but I did acquire a lasting friendship- another lady with a Polish Dad. Each time I have visited Poland I have started the book again, with renewed enthusiasm. Never have I reached the last page, but it has accompanied me proudly on each of my visits, and sat on the table as a declaration of intent. This time it must stay home as I need to travel light. A pocket dictionary will have to do.
Transferring from Bełchatów to Kraków is equally problematic. The train service I relied on has changed providers and disappeared. Buses go in random directions, sometimes taking as long as 13 hours. I could reach the Pacific in less time. Angst heightens. Meantime, Gilly asks questions about my visit. Nothing to do but confess and hope she won’t mind my gatecrashing her meeting with Meg. Assuming I can find them in the teeming metropolis.
And just as I’m about to embark on this journey, I discover that I’ve lost the coach tickets to visit my daughter in Nottingham, scheduled just days after my return from Poland! I can’t reprint them because I don’t have the ticket number. Much hunting and an email to the coach company. It can only get better? By the time you read this I should know the answer.
Meantime I’m linking to Cathy’s Anticipation & Preparation: Spain and Portugal in 2013 on Wander.essence. It holds many fond memories for me.
It’s June, and Becky’s back again with a brand new series of squares. Knowing how much everyone enjoyed the last series, I can’t help but feel I’ll be missing out, but I’m off to Poland tomorrow. Plac Zamkowy (Castle Square) in Warsaw will be my only contribution to Roof Squares for now, but I’ll be keeping a watchful eye on those roof tops.
No Monday walk next week, but I have a post scheduled for Thursday, when I hope to be on my way to Kraków with a fistful of happy memories. Apologies if my responses are slow. Till then, have a great weekend and don’t forget to share your Six Words with Debbie.
We’ve got our work cut out today, but I hope you’ll enjoy it. We’re off to see a Northumberland garden with an Edwin Lutyens touch, but first I need to take you back in time. It’s a warm, muggy day, totally unlike my last visit here when the biting winds cut through me and hailstones peppered my umbrella.
I was meeting a lovely lady, a poet and a craft worker whom I’d many times chatted to on the blog. Though living in Brittany, Viv had a daughter in Northumberland and had suggested we might meet on one of her visits home. Her choice of venue was Northumberlandia, at that time newly opened to the public. In a particularly bitter March it wasn’t an inviting place, but the company was great and we valiantly struggled up the domes.
I wrote about that encounter with a smile on my face, little knowing that we’d never meet again. In July 2016, Viv died suddenly, and my thoughts were full of her when I returned, to a much sunnier Northumberlandia, last week.
I hadn’t planned to visit, but the garden I had come to see belonged to the Blagdon Estate, who donated the land for this project. The Ridley family have owned the estate since the 17th century, and Northumberlandia is in part an attempt to give back to the community some of the profits made through Shotton Surface Mine. The story of the landscaping is a fascinating one, but now I’m going to leave the lady sleeping quietly and turn my attention to the magnificent gardens, just across the road.
You know you are amongst the landed gentry when the drive sweeps past a private cricket pavilion, with perfectly manicured lawn. In the distance, russet coloured cows graze, the house sheltered from prying eyes by a stand of ancient trees.
Something entirely magical was about to happen. Strolling beside the beech hedges which run the length of Lutyens’ canal, a rustling suggested a presence beyond the hedge. Imagining the gardener not quite finished his chores in time for this Open Gardens event, I barely had time to register what was happening when out from the undergrowth burst a deer, in full flight mode. With a graceful leap, he was beyond the canal and disappearing again into the woods. I stood transfixed.
Nothing to do but continue into the formal garden, but I found it hard to concentrate. My eyes were trained on the woods beyond, watching for movement. Finally the walled garden distracted me. Hard to ignore a couple of the beauties there.
But the fun was just beginning. Behind a row of cottages, the Dene tumbles down to a stream. Wild garlic carpets the banks and, following the tangled path through the undergrowth, your reward might just be a jewel burst or two of colour.
The path continues beneath the bridge, rounds a corner and there before you is a stately old viaduct. A lovely fragrance surrounded me and I stopped to admire the vivid yellow blooms. A gentleman asks do I know what they are and, with reasonable confidence, I declare them to be azaleas. A lady disagrees, assuring us that these American rhododendrons are the only ones to have fragrance? Jude is my expert.
Through a gate designed to keep out rabbits, the quarry lies in wait. A sign declares that 6000 tons of stone were excavated in the 18th and 19th centuries to construct buildings on the estate. I love the way it has been turned over to nature, with just the odd quirk or two.
The gardens were extensively remodelled in the 1930s by Sir Edwin Lutyens, whose daughter Ursula was married to Matthew White Ridley, the 3rd Viscount Ridley. Some have stood the test of time, while other areas are a little unkempt. It must be an enormous task, taming a 27 acre estate such as this. One more treat in store, before we retire for that hard-earned cuppa in The Clockhouse . A figure of eight walk takes you around the lake and across the stepping stones. A chapel folly peeps through the trees, and in the distance a Grade II listed temple.
I hope you’ve enjoyed our walk this week, and I’m sorry if it was a little lengthy . There are some extraordinary photos of Northumberlandia you might like on the Blagdon Estate website.
No walk from me for the next 2 weeks, because I shall be in Poland and then visiting my daughter in Nottingham. I’ll try and keep up with you where I can. Meantime I have lots of lovely walks for you to browse. Many thanks to you all!
Lady Lee was very swift away this week :
Melodie has some quite beautiful walks. I’ve selected this one because I haven’t done it and I love coastal walks :
Hike Whitehaven to St. Bees, Cumbria, UK
Suzanne finds a quiet corner of England for us to join her for a wander :
Neighbourhood Walks : Windlesham Arboretum
Debbie travels to the most interesting places, and we’re very lucky- she takes us along :
Susan has a knack for taking me just where I want to be :
Walking Golden Gate Park, San Francisco
Short and sweet, with Janet :
Lots of recipes at Jackie’s place, in case you’re hungry :
You never know what you’re going to find at Jesh’s, and that’s part of the fun :
Another city, and one that’s always full of action. Let Indra be your guide :
Fast or slow, you can’t go far wrong with Drake :
I was followed recently by Tamar at Hike O Therapy. Doesn’t ‘a Cornish gardener hiking through Northern Spain’ sound interesting? Take a look!
Urkulu : A nature reserve and lake in the heart of the Basque Country
I have enormous respect for long distance walkers. This week I had the pleasure of meeting John, for a friendly drink. Cheers, John! :
Eunice has a scalded foot so walking must be painful, but still she takes us to a lovely spot :
A local walk to Smithills Hall
This one from Candy just scraped in before I hit the Publish button :
And this is a lovely way to finish, hand in hand with Pauline and Jack :
Enjoy your last day of the Bank Holiday if you’re in the UK, and to all of you, enjoy your walks! Take care till the next time.
restlessjo 
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