The Lady and the Tramp

So we did it. I now have the badge to prove it but decided to forgo the t-shirt. There was a point today when I wanted to throttle Hadrian or rather the people who insist that his Wall extended beyond Carlisle, especially as there has been NO sight of it for more than 24 hours. Instead the powers that be have somehow convinced the people who certify the National Trails that it extended to the far west coast and that if some of the Wall was dead straight, so the route to Bowness on Solway, in the back of beyond, must be as straight as possible. Which is all very well but when it's 30 degrees, your feet hurt and all you want to do is finish then, let me tell you, straight and flat is no fun*.

Not easy to tell but this stretch of Tarmac across the marshes must have been 4 miles long. No shade, nothing to break the monotony, in other words seemingly interminable. *This is the tramp, by the way. It's not a reference to HRH however hot and sweaty he looked - poor thing.

There were a couple of points of interest along the way however. We stopped for lunch on a wall in a graveyard (we sure know how to live!) Actually it was the only place we could find with any shade. It was a tiny church, no benches, nothing very remarkable - on the surface.

We were rather surprised therefore to see a series of stone plaques set into the grass one of which referenced the dedication by the Duke of Gloucester on a visit in 2014 which piqued our interest. Furthermore we'd been spotted by a couple of local parishioners who were clearly there on official business, and could see how hot we were. The lady offered us a cup of tea! Very sweet. I think if she had been offering pistachio ice cream HRH might have divorced me and married her on the spot. As it was we declined but took her up on her other suggestion to pop in and take in the cool of the tower. Which is when it struck us. The church has received lottery funding to restore it and encourage visitors. Why? Because the church is built from Wall stone, and because it was here, in Burgh by Sands, that the body of King Edward I who died of dysentery whilst waiting to cross the Solway Firth in 1307 to take on Robert the Bruce, was taken to lie in state for two weeks before being moved to Westminster Abbey for burial! 

Edward I, looking a little healthier than when he met his sad end.

The other highlight of the day, apart from The End, was meeting the young woman working behind the bar in the pub. As the daughter of the new-ish landlord and lady she has a day job but is helping out in this busy season for bed and board from her folks. Nothing too remarkable there. What impressed us was that she is herself going to walk The Wall in a few weeks' time "because she feels someone in the family should be able to relate to all their customers". Too right. But perhaps more amusing, she is such an unlikely looking long-distance walker and with no experience, that one of her doubtful supporters has offered, if she makes it as far as Port Carlisle, to walk the last mile with her in a mankini! And if, for no other reason than this, I think she'll make it. What great publicity for her parents' new venture for, I can assure you, this will make the local paper!

And so to close another chapter in my Ramblings. I shall shortly be putting my fresh clutch of blisters, my "I've walked the Wall" badge, and my huge self-satisfied smile to bed. Thank you for coming on the journey with me. 

Feat or Folly?

Penultimate day's walking now complete, we have arrived in Carlisle and are looking forward to exploring this evening. The weather has been very much on our side today: heaps cooler, with a slight breeze, and no rain save for the residue of an overnight downpour making the grass squeak under our boots. The terrain has now switched too, from craggy, rocky and undulating to flat field footpaths but for all that it was easier underfoot this made for rather unremarkable and somewhat unmemorable miles. In fact it was only on reaching the outskirts of Carlisle that HRH spotted something curious which, on checking into our B&B, had me reaching for Google. 

Our guide book just says 'Folly in field' on the path that traces round the back of the small village of Rickerby, and a note to say that the whole hamlet "with all it's towers and turrets, resembles one enormous Victorian folly". Certainly we spotted an odd 'totem pole' carving in a tall tree in someone's garden and a sign on a gate indicating 'Study - Quiet!' that would bear this out.

Actually Google wasn't much help. All it could add was that the stone tower was built by an eccentric man with a very eccentric name - George Head Head! 

So what is the definition of a folly that makes it not just a feat of construction? 

Definition: noun

A costly ornamental building with no practical purpose, especially a tower or mock-Gothic ruin built in a large garden or park.

I guess the key to this then is 'with no practical purpose' and of course seeing the word folly in the guide made me think instantly of the other meaning:

Lack of good sense; foolishness, "an act of sheer folly"

I have to admit I commit to these long distance walks and then spend weeks if not months doubting why I was so foolish. What is the 'real purpose' of walking from one end of something to the other? Where is the 'good sense' in spending a week of my holiday getting up earlier each day than I do when I'm working, waking up stiff and achy, and risking sore places in places I don't usually use, but when it comes down to it it's the sense of achievement that does it. I like being able to say I've done it. I like too seeing places in our beautiful country that are inaccessible by car. I like knowing my body is being pumped full of fresh air day after day, I even quite like the daily workout. Sadly this time I've been blighted by blisters which has increased the challenge and taken the edge off the enjoyment a little. But nevertheless I'll be feeling great tomorrow  evening when the feat is done and the folly forgotten. Wish me luck ... :-)

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Grand Designs

Another 10 miles under our belt today. The heat made for a slightly sleepy slog but there was still no denying that the countryside up here in't North is breathtaking. We crossed over at some point from Northumberland into Cumbria, and had lunch overlooking a spectacular valley with the Pennines ahead in the distance and the Cumbrian hills visible way off through the heat-haze to the South-West. Makes you feel good to be alive. 

Hadrian's grand design has definitely petered out gradually as the day has gone on and since early afternoon has barely made an appearance. Birdoswald fort was quite a hit but, if I'm honest, it was mostly because we were able to get a cup of tea, visit the 'facilities' and to watch the swallow-cam rather than study another 2-foot high outline of Roman living quarters similar to many others we've now seen. If that sounds dismissive of the ancient historical sites I apologise but it really was too hot today to be anything other than intent on getting to the end of the stage. Instead we amused ourselves intermittently with our own grand design: the perfect hikers' B&B. 

Having stayed in quite a few now over the years we feel reasonably qualified to say what works and what can sometimes definitely be lacking. First the essentials (HRH's list might be in a different order of priority but nevertheless we are largely in agreement):

Bathroom  ideally with bath and shower (bath with shower satisfactory) and Radox - for soaking, if so inclined, and decent water pressure. That shower at the end of the day before dinner and again to refresh stiff muscles in the morning is priceless.

No silly small bottles of shampoo etc. thank you. Give us a large bottle - we won't nick it, we just can't bear to see all those half-empty mini bottles going to landfill and they're no use to us at home. Big towels. Enough said. 

Bedroom big enough to open, leave open and still walk around two full sized suitcases please without stubbing toes or having to bend down to rummage through. Oh, and don't forget we have a back-pack each too. We'd like somewhere to put them as well if you don't mind. 

Less important but still desirable would be somewhere in the downstairs lobby to leave our boots. Given that we're usually quite ready to kick them off as soon as we arrive and how we're sure you'd rather not have us tramp through your establishment in muddy footwear please could you provide a rack and somewhere to sit in the hallway the following morning to put them back on? 

Fresh milk - not those horrid UHT offerings. I'll even come and get it from your kitchen in a little jug if you like, and semi-skimmed will do. We're not that fussy.

Tea, coffee (including decaf, definitely) and a kettle that fits under the bloomin' tap! Biscuits (in date) would be nice but are not a deal-breaker. 

Nice comfy bed with appropriate weight duvet please. It's the summer! We don't need 13 togs thanks. Lamp either side because one of us reads (or writes) late and the other doesn't. And a few more plug sockets would be good please, for the chargers. 

Wifi and password written down somewhere, without having to ask.  

Oh, and for breakfast - fresh fruit, fresh eggs (from the chickens we'd keep naturally), fresh bread baked on a timer so THAT would be the first thing you smell in the morning, not the fry-up, home-made jam, granola and Radio 2 playing quietly in the background. And bacon sandwiches, as standard! 

What we don't need: bedside radio alarmclocks! (who uses them anyway these days?), decorative fur throws OR millions of brochures for places local to visit.

So there you have it. If WE were going to run a hikers B&B you know what you can expect. Well it kept us sane when the thermometer rose way above the norm.

But it was only a design. Never reality. Couldn't stand all those picky customers ;-) 

A demain x

Foot Faffing

When you're hiking these long distances 

Your feet are like Crown Jewels

So much more than semi-precious

To be ignored only by fools

When you shop for boots and socks

You find you're gulping at the price

But it's really so important 

In the end you don't think twice

So when the time comes to get ready

At the start of each new day

It's the brave man who will simply

Shove them on, get underway

No, the fact is now the hard work starts

It's time to take precautions 

So out come all the creams and stuff

In staggering proportions! 

Each one has his own routine

My hubby favours just 

A slick all round with Compeed stick.

Not me - it's all or bust!

I should explain that things are worse

Since picking up a blister

So now it takes me just a little

Longer than my Mr.

And I warn you, it's not sexy 

Best to foot-faff on your own

Cos otherwise your other half 

Might choose one to disown.

First out comes the Sudocrem

(Yes, that stuff for baby's bum)

It's well known as a barrier

And to moisturise, and numb!

Next there's toe protectors

(These are recently acquired)

For ancient corns or sore spots

Or wherever is required

I've even now discovered

Ones that slip on like a hat

For cosseting your toe-ends

Now what'd'you think of that?!

So once these gel-filled wonders

Are held in place, secure

Then it's over to the foot-fleece

To be absolutely sure.

You tease a little off 

Wind it round or tuck between 

Till you've more 'hair' than a hobbit

And they're looking quite obscene!

And finally, the plaster

For the blister, see, in case.

But it has to be a special one

Big enough to see from space!

And when that's done you breathe

A sigh of readiness, at last

Those socks you paid so much for

Can begin to join the cast

Of this flipping faffing drama

By which time we're both in stitches

But at least I won't be hobbling 

(That is, barring any hitches).

And so the boots go on 

With half a chemist-load within

Lord, it's a wonder they still fit!

Now let the walking day begin. 

Mind the Bloody Gap

Some things were just meant to be. On a day when Murray started his Wimbledon 2015 challenge, when the temperatures soared around the country, and when I found myself sadly nursing a blister the size of a 10p piece it seemed nevertheless that destiny was on our side. The shortest day of walking so far was achieved such that by 3.30pm just as the players stepped onto the court to 'warm up' (joke) so we checked in to The Samson Inn in Gilsland after a tough but mercifully short 9 miles. Simply put, after yesterday's roller coaster terrain over 13 stunning but exhausting miles and with today's heat to contend with it seemed the scheduling Gods were on our side. 

We began the day today by climbing up to Steel Rigg and onward to the highest point on the Wall. Thankfully it was not yet too warm which proved fortunate since despite the general trend from here onward inevitably being downwards the undulations were by no means over. 

Bit blowy up at the trig point at Green Slack! Not quite enough to have blown the clouds away though.

The crags which form a natural barrier to the north also dictate the course of the Wall, When it does make an appearance though it has the most incredible scenery as its backdrop.

Note how straight the section ahead is.

Looking back. A descent typical of today's walk. But what goes down ....

... Still got those ridges ahead to take on.

Every so often the path drops down into a gap. Caw Gap was pretty steep down then up again, here we're at the bottom of Shield on the Wall, later we trekked down Bogle Hole, through Thorny Doors and onward via Bloody Gap (I kid ye not) and each time you have to go back up again! 

Sometimes you get helpful steps 

Other times not! I am there somewhere, it's just a very long way from where I am (near the top, taking it steady) to where HRH was, already at the bottom, taking the pi...cture!

And finally, shortly before the end of today, we stumbled upon the ruins of the 14thC Thirlwall Castle. Thirlwall means 'gap in the wall' and it was built as such where the Wall had deteriorated to defend the owners' lands from sheep and cattle rustling by those brutes north of the border! 

A shady spot. Unfortunately we didn't find this bench until after we'd had lunch in the full sun, up on the ridge at turret 45a. 

Mercifully tomorrow is again just a 9 mile stretch with far fewer undulations, which is just as well as we may need to step it up to stay ahead of the threatened storms due to arrive at around 2.00pm. 

Early night tonight, tired from heat and hills. Here's hoping I don't now dream of London Tube Station announcements! 

A Military Operation

"Anyone glancing at the maps for today's 15 mile stage will find their heart sinking and probably conclude that this is a walk to be endured, not enjoyed". These are the words of Henry Stedman, author of our Trailblazer guide book! You can imagine, therefore, why I was prepared for the worst. As it turns out the majority of the day's walk was really very pleasant. Henry manages expectations based on the fact that the trail runs close and parallel to the busy B6318. You might be thinking that a B road in rural Northumberland can't be that busy but the fact that it is straight as a die and undulates gently up and down for most of it's length means that if you were not on foot it would be the perfect road on which to put the pedal to the floor and have some fun behind the wheel! Not great for walkers for whom the constant background noise gets a little waring at times but by and large the Hadrian's Wall Path (HWP) is screened from the 'racing chariots' by a modern wall, line of trees or the remains of the Roman ditch that formed a further defensive line on the North side of the Wall. Actually we found the walking more than tolerable (and super easy to navigate), the scenery growing increasingly beautiful and the weather perfect once again. 

No, for me the problem was rather more due to our timetable. After a pleasant morning and our delightful picnic lunch on a huge rock, toasted warm by the sun, we were better able to calculate the remaining distance for the day and that was when the concerns set in. With a further 7 miles to go and only 3 hours till the last bus of the day the pressure was on. Doesn't sound that much of a feat but another significant feature of today's section was The Ladder Stile! 

In total we had 42 to traverse and let me tell you that would slow down the fittest, most nimble Centurian. It certainly did for my knees! And so it transpired that it wasn't the road or the distance that was the problem, it was the bloomin' bus timetable! 

Anyway, here I am tucked up, well fed, everso slightly weathered by the sun and wind but satisfied that we enjoyed rather than endured the day and after a good night's sleep should be all set for whatever Monday throws at us*. 

Oh, and another reason I can forgive the buses is that the number of the service ferrying people to the various towns along the way is the AD122! Tee hee. Why might this give cause for forgiveness? Well it certainly amused me when the penny dropped this afternoon .... this being the year the Wall was ordered to be built by Hadrian himself. Canny Geordies eh? 

*Actually we already know what tomorrow has to throw at us: "Perhaps the most thrilling day of the entire walk, this is a 13 mile stage to be savoured. Encompassing the best preserved fort on the trail, the finest views, the most complete sections of the Wall, the northernmost point of the Trail and some great, if slightly exhausting walking, this is a day for superlatives". He's not all bad, our Henry! And no bus to catch at the end. 

"A Sizeable Chunk"

It's been a day of unexpected surprises. Little did we expect when we set off today that we'd find ourselves 'gannin alang the Scotswood Road', if not quite to see the Blaydon Races certainly in close proximity http://youtu.be/6PrMaVjHS74, seeing a sign marking the depth of the water after the 'great flood' of 1771 which must have been 25 ft above the level of the river today ...

... and later to be following the former Wylam Waggonway where, as a young boy, one George Stephenson took his first job keeping a neighbours cows off the line and undoubtedly where his love of linear transport systems was born and this just metres from his childhood home! Fascinating. 

We've had riverside pathways on our way out of Newcastle, stretches through rather unimpressive industrial areas, pretty parkland and finally a "bit of an exhausting schlep to the top of the hill" (guide book speak) but what we hadn't really seen before 10 miles were up and we arrived in Heddon on the Wall was any wall! It transpires that many a walker forgoes the first true section of the National Trail for this reason and starts at Heddon but we've had glorious weather again and with mostly flat, easy paths and simple navigation we purists are happy to have spent another lovely day making good progress. 

Heddon on the Wall is a pretty little place perched up on a ridge above the Tyne and boasts the first (or last, depending on which direction you're heading) real sight of any Wall. Clearly now only a few feet high since much of it (before UNESCO protection) was pilfered by people building other local constructions, the 100m section of preserved Wall in Heddon is quite impressive, and includes the remains of a kiln, albeit one that post-dates the Roman era. 

Tomorrow is THE BIG ONE! 15 miles following the military road, up and down and, because we're billeted in Corbridge some 8 miles off the path, requiring some nifty scheduling to be sure the Sunday bus timetable back to Heddon and returning from Chollerford via Hexham doesn't outwit us. 

Oh, and in case you're wondering, the 'sizeable chunk', (again guide book speak), is pictured below.

Well built - steady on the comments please :-)

HRH figuratively toasting his toes in the kiln.

Segedunum*

"Not the most salubrious of National Trail starts", the guide book said. The guide book was not wrong. Apart from our brief visit to the Segedunum Museum with it's 35ft viewing tower, marking the extreme eastern-most end of the wall and which was very well done, the first few miles are largely through an area of built-up former industrial units and warehouses. Well, this part of Newcastle was once given over to coal mines, then major shipbuilding and now lies somewhat derelict pending it's latest reinvention (probably cheap housing) but it has to be endured in order to move onwards to the significantly more pleasant riverside/marina and the town centre. 

At St. Peter's Marina - the exclusive part of the riverside development.

The museum itself boasts a fully excavated outline of the entire Roman fort that once stood there, indicating everything from the main offices to the hospital, barracks, stores and the General's house, interactive displays and a reconstructed bath house but arriving only 45 minutes before it was due to close meant for just a mad dash around the key exhibits - and no entrance charge! Bonus.

Anyway getting the grotty bit over, plus our wish to shorten the distance to be covered tomorrow, was what made us decide to hit off 5 miles before dinner. As it happens the latter stretches were very pleasant: the sun was shining, the seagulls were in fine voice and we caught our first sight of the Millennium Bridge. HRH calls it the winking eye. 

Beyond it is the Tyne Bridge (that's 2 of the 7 that cross the Tyne in the centre of toon). That other shiny bump in the background is Sage, an art gallery. Impressive. 

Off to test the worth of bringing my feathered friend on holiday. 10 miles to Heddon tomorrow. X

* Strong Fort

Pronounced segg-eh-doo-num

Vallum Aelium* - Maybe

So here we go. 4 hours in the car ahead of us en route to N'Castle has driven me (forgive the pun) to the guide book for want of something to do whilst HRH takes the first stint at the wheel. And guess what? It seems pretty much all the 'facts' recorded about the construction of The Wall are at best speculation! Apparently the first written accounts of Roman influence in Northumberland can be attributed to John Hodgson, a local vicar, who wrote six volumes over 20 years, finally published in 1839, presenting a mass of evidence blowing previous theories and attributing the construction (largely) to Hadrian rather than the Emperors before or after. And from what I can gather no-one has convincingly argued against him since. 

What is apparent however is that the beginnings of the 'wall' (rather more turf and timber actually) were constructed during the reign of the previous Emperor, Trajan (AD97-117) with the intention of providing a launch-pad for attacks on the pesky Caledonians! I have to say reading up about this period of British history presents a few parallels with modern times. You will draw your own conclusions but if I were to say that on Hadrian's accession he decided that it was proving all together too costly to keep fighting to take control of those aggressive tribes north of the border and so adopted the defensive approach to keep them out, you will get my drift. 

There ARE writings on the construction of the wall but the earliest date from around 150 years after it was completed and it would appear the Romans were not averse to massaging the truth to suit their  marketing and egotistical needs! 

Most surprising perhaps is that Hadrian's Wall took just 6 years to build and yet only 10 years after it's completion and when his successor took over, Antonius, not to be outdone, decided to push the Empire's border further north and built a wall of his own, leaving Hadrian's famed feat of engineering to languish as a series of trading-post forts rather than a military defensive barrier. Can't wait to see what all the fuss is about. 

*Vallum - wall

Aelium - Hadrian's family name

Crutches

[IN SINGULAR] A thing used for support or reassurance:

Janet the Walking pole - tick

Stephen, best buddy, all round good egg  - tick

Foot fleece - tick

Bio freeze and Ibuprofen gel - tick

Wall Passport - tick

Own pillow ! - tick

Some of these are clearly self explanatory. We all need support and I don't mind admitting I might need a little more than my forever friend who hasn't packed any of the above. Others might require more clarification.

Foot fleece is a recent discovery. After much searching on the web, not really knowing what I was looking for but certain I wasn't the only person who would benefit from something to protect sore spots, I stumbled upon this great idea. I purchased it from New Zealand, waited several weeks for it to arrive, tried it, loved it, recommended it to friends ... who promptly found it on Amazon UK!

http://m.hikerswool.co.nz/blister-treatment-foot 

When we walked The Camino a couple of years ago I found collecting stamps along the way quite motivating so was pleased to discover a similar summertime-only 'passport' scheme also operates along The Wall. Yes, I know this smacks of children collecting stickers but sometimes we just have to do what works for us. So there.

And finally, you might think it over the top to take my own pillow on holiday (HRH certainly does) and I haven't done so on holidays in the past but sleep is already at a premium these days so I'm not taking any chances. Previous experience of B&Bs has perhaps made me wary. Certainly I've had a mixed bag of bouncy sponge, rock-hard bolsters and flat flabby things but rarely these days do you get a nice feather pillow (allergy rules understood but not appreciated when I'm going to be needing my rest) so given I had room, my old favourite found it's way into my suitcase. We shall see whether my eccentricity pays off. 

Hic Nos Iterum *

In trying to summon my inner Roman I've been researching the nominative hero of the piece (about whom more later) but remained unconvinced that he, Hadrian, ever paid more than a cursory visit never mind lifted a shovel, heaved a brick or tramped the length so he wasn't really helping. No, what I wanted to know was who actually put in the hard graft (in other words who I have to blame for putting the 84 mile structure there in the first place, tantalisingly challenging the eternal rambler in his-nibs and the wearily competitive in me!) Anyway, I seem to have gotten to the bottom of it. I still don't yet know who barked the orders, set the pace, motivated the troops or kept morale high (this role to be played out next week by none other than HRH, you understand) but I have been able to establish a little more about the grafters. 

*Rather alarmingly when you type 'legionnaires' into Google images you tend to get disease! 

Sorry - distracted by germs there. Where was I? Oh yes, so somewhat surprisingly I discovered that not all of them were there under duress, in fact far from it! So it helps to remind myself that I did volunteer for this latest jaunt, I did look upon it as a way of improving my fitness and I was curious about the landscape in a part of the world as yet unexplored since I find that, wheras many believe mistakenly that the wall was built by slaves rather it's construction was a kind of occupational therapy for Roman legionaries! [i quote:  "Men from all over the Empire who had voluntarily joined the army probably needed such an exercise to keep them fit and busy in what was, at that time, a lonely outpost at the farthest edge of the world"]

So there we have it. The occupational therapy week is almost upon us. This is what's known, I believe, as 'reframing' - stop thinking about something negatively and try to see it positively. Don't get me wrong I'm anticipating some lovely scenery, hearty breakfasts, the opportunity to write again, to walk myself fitter as the week goes on and to enjoy the company of HRH but I have been struggling with nagging doubt as to why I ever agree to these things! We have a schedule of between 9 and 15 miles to get through each day (plus diversions), the forecast is not looking great and training has thrown up the inevitable catalogue of twinges, aches and pains but looking at it as occupational therapy, well, if the legionnaires could construct it then surely I can walk it. We shall soon see *Here We Go Again

"Are You Four Elephants?"

Yes, ok, I know I could do with losing a few pounds but when a mini bus pulls up outside one's hotel and the driver poses this question (especially as HRH was still dropping our key off at reception), hey! - a girl could get a complex! Except that today I WAS "for elephants"! Yup, our final fling was to go and play with a few of the 'million elephants' after which a former King of Laos nicknamed his country to project an image of size and power. 

The details of the excursion were a little sketchy because we had left the booking to Khen who got us a great deal on a package including time with a group of pachyderms and a trip to another waterfall. "Pick up 10.30am - take your camera and sunscreen." But never did we expect the most superlative of days to top off an already incredible holiday. 

On arrival at the elephant centre we and our multi-national group of 9 were welcomed with iced tea and briefed on the visit. Feeding first. 

All girls, all with good appetites (the boys are left to roam the jungle as they're 'too naughty!') were not shy about the sugar cane and bamboo on offer.

Next we were up a set of stairs to facilitate climbing aboard, two to a saddle seat, for a lollop through the jungle. Our old dear was definitely in a Sunday mood - stopping at every tree for another snack! 

She definitely wasn't in the mood to catch up any time soon. Big hats needed again for 40 minutes in the midday sun. The one you can see belongs to our mahout. Great fun ...

Little did we know the best was yet to come. Feeling more than a little unprepared as everyone else followed instructions now to use the facilities to change, the penny dropped that the final part of the ele-experience, bathing, was NOT going to involve a bucket and a long handled broom! OMG OMG OMG ... "Ok, everyone ready? Follow me".

When a pretty young lady in a mini skirt & sandals and carrying a sunshade sets off towards the river, somehow you feel that all will be well. What could we possibly be about to do if she manages to look this pristine? If you're thinking what I was thinking then surely overalls would be more appropriate!  Or at the very least galoshes? 

In this location the river's edge is more like a beach. Imagine if you will a party consisting of a handsome young Dutch couple, a single Chinese chap, four middle-aged German ladies and us. Everyone else is now in beach wear and carrying towels. We were not. And then the elephants came down to play. 

The hilarity and the joy that ensued was best captured on video but suffice it to say that sitting astride an elephant's neck with your legs tucked behind it's ears whilst it takes a bath in the Mekong River will go down as one of the most memorable things we've ever done. Wet through? You bet. Did we care? Not a bit.

Totally awesome!

And so, smelling more than a little of ele-poop and river water, we showered with the others (still fully clothed in our case) for the next part of the day. Remember that mention of another waterfall? If you read yesterday's post you might be forgiven for glossing over this passing reference in the package tour description - we did. High hopes we did not have. Another oversight ...

Back to the mini-bus (bearing in mind we're dripping wet), quick 5k wizz up the road and we're dropped off at the gates to the Kuang Si Park and Falls. "Enjoy yourselves. See you in three hours. Be ready for pick up at 4.00pm." 

3 hours? 3 HOURS!! What on earth? 

But this was no dried up trickle like yesterday. This was no awkward stumble over roots and leaves - oh no! This, to our utter delight, was a black bear sanctuary and the most incredible series of tumbling, roaring cascades complete with azure bathing pools set in sumptuous Laos-style parkland you have ever seen. And we were already wet through - so what the hell! 

We lunched with this for a view, dried off in the afternoon sun and struggled to wipe the smiles from our faces until the clock beckoned us back to the bus! Oh, joyous day. 

Ooops, sorry bears - nearly forgot you.

Amen.

Dawn Devotions

It's our last day. The page in our itinerary is blank save for the words "At your leisure". After yesterday's exertions you might expect we would lie in, breakfast late and lounge by the pool. But somehow there's a sense that if we don't squeeze in every last opportunity to see as much as we can the chance may be lost for ever. It's unlikely we will return to Laos. So we rose at 5.00am while it was still dark and took a stroll down the main high street in the hope of witnessing the alms-giving ceremony which was so often mentioned as a must-see by guide books and agents alike. 

Despite the early hour we knew when we had arrived in the right place as a row of mats and cushions lined the pavements and local shopkeepers were setting out baskets of bananas, small sweet biscuits and bamboo sticky-rice containers. We imagined these were to be purchased by anyone wanting to give alms but unsure of the protocol we declined the approaches of the womenfolk and found a bench on which to wait. It was peaceful, there were few people were about. 

Having decided to observe from a reverent distance rather than to participate directly (partly as no-one had been able to explain precisely what was about to happen) we were content to sit and await sunrise and the chanting of the monks. It was not long before our illusions were shattered with the arrival of the first of several mini-bus loads of Thai, Korean and Japanese tourists, none of whom seem to have been briefed on the expectation to remain silent, to respect the monks' desire to be undisturbed, to cover knees and shoulders and to remove hats - grrrr. 

There is no doubt that the sight of so many monks gratefully receiving their sustenance for the day is moving, but you have to be able to see through the now commercial opportunity that the 'spectacle' has become. The mats and cushions turned out to be pre-paid 'bookings' by a large party of visitors, many selfies were snapped and a great deal of loud instruction and giggling ensued. I felt almost guilty to be a part of the tourist problem and, slightly shocked not to say a little disappointed and annoyed, was mightily relieved that we had made the decision to keep a distance. 

A final observation: there was something else going on here that took a few moments to spot. As fast as the monks received donations of food into their panniers so they were dropping some of it into boxes and tubs on the road-side. For a split second you could be forgiven for thinking they were being selective about what they fancied for lunch that day. Not at all. This was them giving back. Once they had more than they felt they needed, the rest was passed on - to the poor! Now THAT was moving.

Monks of all ages: but note around the edges, the camera snapping crowds and the coffee concessions. And yes I realise, with a heavy heart, the irony of this statement .... but trust me, my images are heavily edited with a zoom lens and some serious cropping. 

Patiently receiving ... 

... and generously giving, to the poor.

Without the crowds it was a truly lovely sight but there was no chanting, no drum beat and no bells. I imagine the whole process has been rather 'spoiled' and that they keep their serious devotions to the peace and quiet of their temple. I don't blame them. We didn't stay long.

Final note: in case you were thinking this was the Last Post, no such luck. We've decided to treat ourselves to one final unplanned activity. More later .... 

I'm a Middle Aged Western Woman - Get Me Out of Here!

By my own admission I was a bit grumpy this morning. Tigger, on the other hand, was in fine fettle. Breakfast was a slightly tense affair. It's not so much that I wasn't looking forward to our day's hiking but certainly WAS concerned about the heat, the distance (Ken indicated it would be about 4k which didn't sound right: our itinerary said about 4-5 hours of walking), lunch and how we were to carry sufficient water to prevent dehydration. It also occurred to me as we were collected from our hotel at 8.30am that at home I would never go hiking for any distance without my most comfortable boots, thick socks and a vague idea of where we were going. I had none of the above. HRH remarked in the minibus to goodness-knew-where that he'd missed two weeks of Rambling!

Ah well, there was no turning back now and with our new guide for the day, Pai, assuring us that he had accommodated Mr Exciteable's veggie lunch we were off. Oh, and it was to be 16k!! "Here - some more water to put in your pack" Well at least that was reassuring, if heavy ...

The minibus journey took us around 40 minutes, out of town, travelling some of the worst unsurfaced roads I've experienced to date ("Ah, this is like when I used to go to India" says HRH. Oh good!) and dropped us at the water's edge. First unexpected challenge: cross the river. 

Um .....

Next, having disembarked, cross more water

This is starting to feel like a team challenge!

Finally we settled into some sort of rhythm, and my dark grey mood lifted with the cry of the cicadas as we strode out through forests of tall teak trees, surrounded by incredible mountainous scenery.

Teak is one of the main export commodities from Laos.

Just look at those mountains. I was secretly praying they were more than 16k away but the walking was enjoyable. It was now about 10.30am and getting VERY warm.

Before long we arrived at a small village where we were greeted by excitable children, but where a quick photo opportunity was all that slowed us down. 

Sabaidee!

Aren't they adorable?

River weed drying on racks.

Apparently they have a Women's Union advocating '3 aspects to be considered as good'. They don't say what they are. Thinking about this kept me busy for a while as we ploughed on. 

Continuing through bamboo 'woods' we were told that the next section involved a steep climb and sure enough the terrain, along with the temperatures took an upward turn. If I say that by the time we reached the top I must have consumed my body weight in water and that elevenses was a dose of rehydration salts, two glucose tablets and a banana you might have some idea how utterly draining the climb was - but the shade offered by the charming family who let us borrow their dining table was like an oasis and recovery was soon achieved. 

Late morning. Welcome shade and a chance to rest. 

Pet monkey. They also kept free-range pigs, a few scrawny chickens and a dog or three. 

Renewed energy on board and with another hour to go before our next break (for lunch) we settled down for a few more kilometres.

Everyone greeted us with a friendly wave, even a busy farmer.

Bamboo woods.

Not that ALL I ever think of is food you understand, but a few km further on and I was starting to anticipate lunch (it's energy draining, all this walking and thinking). And so we arrived in Houayfay, a large village of the Camu tribe where they were busy going about their daily chores, drying rice, bringing in the goats and manning the village store. 

Great rice-drying weather.

This goat came to investigate where we were to have our picnic lunch.

The corner shop - we bought yet more water and a coke each. Sugar levels were low again. 

And so to lunch. This was perhaps one of the biggest surprises of the day - and not altogether in a good way. Pai's English was certainly passable but we hadn't really been able to establish where the promised picnic was to be sourced from. It turns out it was in his back pack all along. Out came three plastic bowls, three spoons, and 5 freezer bags, the contents of which were possibly the most unappetising selection of traditional Lao food we've ever seen. A watery bamboo soup, some stir-fried veg (probably the euphemistic river weed - otherwise known as swamp cabbage), some glass noodles with minced meat, a bag of sour pickled veg, and a huge quantity of sticky rice - all cold!! But what were we to do? Hungry, genuinely appreciative and not wishing to offend despite it looking most unappealing we tucked in. Bon appetit.

They even set a cloth on the table for us. 

Final stretch ahead. Just another hour to go to the waterfalls which were our ultimate destination. Sadly Pai gently broke the news that as we are in the dry season the falls are low and the bathing pools empty of water but that didn't mean we had a choice - onwards we went. 

I'm now going to précis the last hour - mostly because I could hardly think about anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. The heat was so intense and the terrain underfoot hard going, up and down over tree roots and slippery with dry leaves, that arriving at the falls, less impressve than we had hoped or not, I was just elated and grateful to have finished. Tigger was still in fine fettle. 

Not much of a cascade.

Pretty though, and welcome if only to indicate the end. I was, frankly, shattered. 

Just another day's ramble?

The journey back to the bus was fun though - by motor boat! Goodness, we've done a few crazy things this trip. Now bed beckons. Up really early tomorrow to catch the monks' alms-giving ceremony. It's non-stop here you know. Night night.