Aberdeenshire Road Trip: 4th-5th June 2016

I left Glasgow mid-afternoon for the two and a half hour drive to Aberdeen. It was a pleasantly warm afternoon, the sun was baking, and I was completely GPS free. The holder had even fallen off my windscreen.

Within a couple of hours, I arrived at Dundee, my first destination. I had not heard great things about Dundee, other than the historic ship that they have on display. I was expecting a small, characterless port town, but I actually rather liked it. It had a couple of very striking bridges across the river Dee, and some quite nice buildings. The shopping centre reminded me of every other shopping centre I've been in, especially Southampton, but the city itself made me think a bit of Liverpool. My only grudge against the city of Dundee was that I couldn't get my hands on any Dundee cake, because it was "out of season", and that was my main purpose for visiting! (that and it being en-route to Aberdeen, and somewhere new to explore). Even the large supermarket just outside the city centre didn't stock it, although in fairness all the local bakeries in town were closed for the day by the time I arrived. I had, as I promised myself the week before, taken a lazy weekend, at least for Saturday!

The big Dundee Bridge through a sort of heat haze

Dundee looking more like Leamington Spa (it excites me that
I'm now well travelled enough to make these comparisons!)

From Dundee I drove directly to Aberdeen. I was very excited every time I saw a sign for a new county - Angus, Aberdeenshire, and then the city sign itself. After getting only very slightly lost at first (City driving is definitely where I miss GPS the most) I found the hostel, a big beautiful grey victorian house, on a street full of big beautiful victorian houses. At the end of the street was a statue of Queen Victoria herself. The street was called Queen Street.

I was pleasantly surprised when I checked in too, this was a really nice hostel, probably my favourite in the UK so far. There was one girl in my dorm. I decided we would be friends, and after a chat, I persuaded her to come out with me. She was from Germany, and said this was a return visit to the UK because she loved it so much. She wanted to move to St Davids in Wales. Germany thought that the geographic diversity of the UK made it the most beautiful country she had been to, and she had been to most of Europe!

I had a bit of an infatuation with this amazing staircase at the hostel!

We set off for Old Town Aberdeen, north of the city centre. We were west of the city centre, and we walked for a long time, at least two miles, along King Street (they're apparently big monarchists in Aberdeen), the road which would purportedly lead us to the old town. There are a lot of men in Aberdeen. Men of all ages, teenage lads too. I never felt unsafe, but I was glad I had Germany with me. She taught me German words like Kopfkino (literally Head Cinema, for when you can envisage something in your mind's eye) and Ohrwurm (literally Ear Worm, for when you have a tune stuck in your head!) I didn't teach her any english, because she was already fluent - she had studied it as part of her degree.

Sunset on Aberdeen College

Eventually we gave up on Aberdeen's elusive Old Town, and returned back to the city centre, picking up pizza, chocolate, and some breakfast ingredients on the way. We considered stopping for a drink, but decided it was late, so Germany and I chatted in the hostel kitchen, exchanging travel photos and plans whilst I gorged on pizza. (Germany had already eaten). We turned in at about midnight, and I slept restlessly, waking up just after 3am and convincing myself my phone had reset to the wrong time, because it was so light outside

Eventually I got up at 7.15. I snuck out of the dorm (no chance to say goodbye to Germany as she was planning a Sunday morning lie-in) and after a quick breakfast, drove to Braemar.

The drive to Braemar was straightforward enough. It was very well signposted despite being a tiny village, because it is a relatively popular tourist spot for the area. It is also close to Balmoral, which, in hindsight, I regret not checking out.

In Braemar I changed into my hiking boots and met a couple of ladies from the hiking group I had joined on Meetup.com. Together we followed a trail up into the serene pine forest, on an undulating two mile track east of the village, including some fantastic views down over the city, all the way to the still snow-capped mountains of the Cairngorms. There were also some good viewing spots of Braemar Castle, which we agreed was austere, but satifyingly castle-like, with crenalations and turrets, unlike the more rambling Edinburgh or Stirling castles.

About a third of my photos were a variation on this theme, i.e. trees.

Braemar Castle

The morning quickly became stiflingly hot, in a way that makes you drowsy and sticky. Luckily my companions felt similarly lethargic, so at a spectacular vista with a wooden bench, we took a moment to enjoy the view, and (I admit) recover a little. They were a friendly pair, both sore from a big day of hiking yesterday, where most of the group had done a 30 mile trek from Aviemore to Braemar, through the Cairngorms, around Scotland's second, third, fourth and fifth highest mountains! I shall have to drive that route someday!! They told me about the hike and how rewarding and enjoyable it had been for all the pain. Although it sounded magnificent, I knew that I needed yesterday's recovery time, so I didn't fully regret my decision.

The view where we sat for a while. The house had originally been quite
modest apparently, but had expanded over its colourful history. It was a
base involved in the Jacobite uprisings.

A short way down the trail, we reached a signpost offering us two options. One was short and forested - about one mile. The other was long, and less sheltered and potentially less scenic - two miles. I thought hard about it and decided that despite the fact I was running out of water, two miles wasn't long, and I hadn't come all this way for a mere two hour walk!

It was a good choice. The trail was quite pretty, reminding me in places of one of my favourite forests back home - Tangham forest in Rendlesham. Many of the trees here were 'farmed' for the forestry commission, so they were all straight with sparse trunks and nothing but pine needles beneath. Now that there were only two of us, conversation was much easier. My companion told me that she was originally from Hungary and had moved to Glasgow, and now Edinburgh. We discussed places to see in Scotland, and agreed that Plockton was beautiful (see the post below for more information about Plockton) and that Skye needed more than a weekend to enjoy (hopefully there will be a future post about my travel in Skye, I haven't been yet!) Hungary was a great chat and we even had a few easy laughs along the way about travelling solo and hiking in a group. We returned to Braemar much sooner than I had expected, and enjoyed a cake and drink together at The Bothy (an attractive large cafe with a good selection of cake but rather begrudging service) before heading our separate ways.

The sign seemed so inappropriate I had to take a photo!

I drove the A93 south, a road which would take me directly to Perth. The A93 quickly became my new favourite drive, overtaking the A82 when it runs alongside Loch Lomond. That had been my favourite road in the country for two years, but we had a new winner! The A93 is a spectacular mountain pass, weaving along the valley floor with lots of little hillocks to keep you on the edge of your seat, whilst ensconsing you in fantastic views of the immense mountain rage. There were some good downhill blasts as well, where I could take my foot off the acceleration peddle entirely and just cruise down without losing any speed (99.9MPG woohoo!) I can't wait to drive it again!

I stopped off at Blairgowrie for lunch. My principal motivation was that I thought it was in Angus, which I hadn't really visited yet - only driven through- but to my disappointment it fell under the area of Perth and Kinross. Nevertheless, Blairgowrie was a beautiful picnic spot for a summers afternoon. I watched some local boys splaching around in the river under the bridge, bathed in the sunshine and listened to the birdsong and the babbling water as the ocasional car passed over the bridge.

You can just about see the buys under the bridge

Blairgowrie church above what should be a small wier,
but there wasn't enough water to go over it. A few metres
down stream was a dead salmon floating on its back

When I returned to the car though it was very hot, insufferably hot. I stopped very briefly at Scone Palace but otherwise drove straight home, desperate to escape the smothering heat of my oven-like vehicle.

That evening I wondered up to Byers Road to check out a rumoured street party. There was a side street cordoned off, filled with happy people drinking in beers and sunshine, but I had a better idea, and picked up a small tub of icecream from Peckhams the grocer, enjoying a lazy walk home in the evening warmth, eating icecream as I went. I reflected that I was really doing quite well at weekending!

North Highland Roadtrip: 28th-30th May 2016

My southern sister came to visit as part of her own scottish roadtrip on the 27th, and I accompanied her and her boyfriend for the first leg of their journey, to Loch Lomond. We travelled in convoy, and unfortunately got separated just outside of Dumbarton, so I had a few miles of nerve-racking, blood-pressure-raising driving in and out of mobile homes and lazy holiday drivers to catch up with them, and guide them to our designated picnic spot on the shore.

It was a beautiful spot, and as we left our cars, the relentless grey overhead broke and patches of sunshine appeared on the rippling water. We enjoyed a casual walk around some of the Loch (it's enormous, but more on that at the end of this post!) and after a while we returned to our cars for lunch, ate up, and said goodbye. Their target destination for the day was Oban, 57 miles away. My target was Ullapool, 178 miles away. Then again, I am more experienced at roadtrips than they are...

My sister actually took this photo, but it was on my camera, and I liked it more than any of mine.

I drove through the majestic Glencoe, and less enjoyably Fort William (I have visited Fort William before, and I really don't like it as a town), again using a road atlas in preference of a GPS. This freed my phone to become a dashboard cam. Unfortunately you need panoramic vision to fully appreciate the beauty, but it was worth a try. I made brief stops en route for epic scenery, including Eilen Donan Castle. A colleague had reccomended Plockton, so that would be my second "official" stop, and potentially somewhere to stay the night if Ullapool seemed too distant.

Plockton was at first unimpressive, I drove there via a network of single track roads so small I thought i must be lost. However as I came over the crest of the hill towards the village, I was greeted by a spectacular sight, so I parked there and then, put on my hiking boots, and went for a walk.

I began to follow the road down toward the village (Plockton village has its own tiny peninsula) but saw a footpath leading toward the cove, so I took that instead. The trail took me over a boardwalk throguh a marshy area at the bottom of the cove, then along a narrow ascending trail into the bay. As I got closer, I got to see that amazing Mount Rushmore-like cliff face up close, so I stopped to take some photos. Then as I came round the corner I saw some boats harboured serenely in (what I slowly realised was) the north sea.  So I stopped to take some photos. Then further along the trail I spied some picturesque cottages on the waterfront across the cove... you get the idea. It was all beautiful and very serene, at what was evidently beoming my favourite time of day to take photos - late afternoon. As the trail plunged into a sun dappled mossy woodland, the sound of bagpipes floated up from the village. I have recently finished an excellent book about travelling - a memoir about a girl with an obsession for "doint the thing you're supposed to do in the place you're supposed to do it". Hiking in the highlands to the tune of bagpipes felt like I was thoroughly ticking that box.

I loved this sign and how it looked like it was buried in moss!

The cute village of Plockton across the bay. See how clear the water is!

An afternoon of serenity after a lot of driving.

 I did enquire at the B&B in Plockton, but it was fully booked, and so was the bunkhouse, due to this being bank holiday weekend. I didn't know how long it would take me to get to Ullapool as I couldn't get GPS signal, and I was afraid that I would end up driving along these tiny country roads in the dark. I decided to stay at the next place with a vacancy.

Winding my way out of Plockton, I soon found myself driving along bigger roads. Rain began to fall, and as we sped through a dark foresty bit of trail, I saw a sign for a hostel. I turned the car around and approached the hostel, but it looked so creepy hidden amongst the dark pines in the rain that I almost passed it by. As I parked Astrid I couldn't help but think of horror movies. I was a lone woman, with no phone signal, in this creepy forest, taking shelter from the inclement weather just as night was falling... The man who greeted me at the door was swiss. He was very friendly, and told me apologetically that he only had two beds left. "how many of you are there?" he asked. This made me feel better. "Just one." I told him.

Gerry's Hostel - Craig

I paid in euros that night because that was all I had in my purse. The hostel was, as it turned out, listed in the Scottish Independent Hostels guide, perfectly legitimate despite its foreboding location. Technically it is in the conurbation of "Craig" although it could hardly be called a village, as there was no pubwithin walking distance for me to have dinner. Furthermore breakfast was not provided (although, tellingly, a drying room was!) I changed rooms twice - first because I had placed myself in the main dorm, which was actually being taken over by a party of ten - second because after spending some time reading by the window in my smaller dowm, I noticed an enormous house spider that was moving about on the ceiling, and the fear of that dropping on me while I was asleep (or indeed awake) was too terrifying a prospect to cope with. At last I settled for the one remaining down which had a couple and their third wheel (as far as I could make out) staying in there. They were from Leeds. The husband was a bit strange, he stared a lot. When I eventually moved into the room he was asleep in his single bed, topless with a fantastic tanline/sunburn line on display, his book still in his hand and his mouth wide open.

I woke early the next morning, and was back on the road by 7am in search of breakfast/dinner. Surprisingly I wasn't too hungry, so I was able to enjoy the winding empty mountain roads, weaving around monroes, lochs and glens as I made my way north east. Those of you with access to a map will notice that Ullapool is actually pretty much directly north of Craig, but the nature of highland roads is that I had to travel east 45 miles and then west 32 miles. Luckily the scenery more than made up for it, and for the first thirty minutes I didn't see another car on the road, and very few signs of civilisation besides the road I was driving on. This made this arbitrary traffic light all the more frustrating. It took so long to change I began to wonder if it was broken, and I should ignore it...

It changed eventually, but I had enough time to get my camera out,
take this photo, and put it away again.

A typical example of the beautiful views from the road to Ullapool

Finally I arrived in Ullapool, a place so stunningly beautiful, I was taking photos before I was even fully out of the car - before I even got my hands on some breakfast!

Ullapool harbour

I love the low cloud. The night before it felt
spooky, now it feels mystical, like I'm
discovering somewhere secret (haha)

Ullapool town in the early morning

After a delicious, still warm fruit scone with real butter and Essex Jam, I navigated the bathroom (Stays or Braces - which is the ladies?) and carried on, now not knowing where I was going, only "North." GPS had worked for just long enough last night to tell me that the coastal route was only thirty minutes longer than the more direct road, and the Wife of the Leeds couple in the hostel had highly recommended it (besides the Orkney Islands, a beach ten miles hike from the road, and many other places which required a week to explore sadly, not three days) so I took the coastal route.

I drove over so many cattle grids, I never knew if I was in a sheep field or outside of one, or maybe a field full of different sheep to the last one? Who knows. At one point we experienced a more exotic livestock-based holdup:

Highland Cattle causing a traffic jam.

It was fantastic. The weather was perfect, and the scenery was spectacular, especially as I arrived into Durness, where I saw flashes of white sandy beaches ensconsed in dramatic cliff-lined coves. In one such cove I discovered the mysterious Smoo Caves, where I arrived minutes too late to join a tour (the only way to see the whole of the caves, as you get across into the second cavern by boat), but I still enjoyed poncdering the immense size of the cave, created by the sea, and the hole in the ceiling. It was fun to read the many local legends surrounding the grotto, including the true story of Macleod, a serial killer who had hid the bosdies of his victims in there, safe in the knowledge that the superstitious townsfolk would never enter it for fear the devil himself lurked within.

Smoo - where the devil lives apparently

I stopped briefly in the tiny hamlet of Reay (they are all tiny hamlets in the Highlands, but this one had the bonus of a petrol station) and got fuel for both of us - unleaded for Astrid, icecream for me! On the subject of petrol stations, I did notice that every single village had an electric car charging point, but only about one in three had petrol!  paid £1.25 a litre (18p more than it cost in Glasgow or Inverness!) It was only a short drive then to Thurso, a port town from where people get ferries to Shetland and the Orkney Islands. Thurso had been described as "quite nice", but apart from a very friendly lady at the tourist information desk, who had a similar love of roadtrips, I found Thurso to be a little uninspiring apart from the ruins of its once magnificent castle. It was one of those towns where I kept worrying if Astrid was safe and double-locked.

From Thurso it was not far to John O'Groats, the tiny settlement which marks the furthest extent of the mainland United Kingdom. As I approached, and a particularly moody track began to play on my Gaelic singing CD (don't judge me), I watched the cloud roll in off the sea. Because of the height of the land, it was not rolling across the sky, but across the fields and roads towards us. Soon we were engulfed in this eerie grey mist, and I had to put the fog lights on as we wound our way down this well travelled road.

John O Groats was hence a grey and windy experience. I took some photos of the sign, of the octagonal house (so that John O Groats and his seven sons could all enter at the same time, saving any arguments), and of the misty sea, left a voicemail for my parents "I'm only 2,200 miles from the North Pole!", thanked Astrid for her heroic dependability in getting me here, and began the long drive south. There was nowhere else to go!

Shetland isn't looking very appetising!

I stopped off onlyt once on my route back. Sadly the cloud cloaked us for most of the route down, so I could only guess at the rugged clifftops and elusive bays hidden in the foggy greyness. The cloud did clear just enough however for me to see the magnificent turrets of Dunrobin castle. There were signposts for it as I entered Golspie (indeed it featured on their village sign) so I spent an excitable fifteen minutes touring the castle grounds snapping photos of the romantic castle facade and its elabourate formal gardens.

Finally I arrived at Tain, where I had booked a £50 B&B for the night - Shandwick House. Although I was trying my best to be a budget traveller, and definitely broke the budget here, it was absolutely worth it, I knew as soon as I walked in through the door. I had found the house without GPS by a lucky drive by and some good signage. The entrance hall smelt beautiful (a reed diffuser was sat on a chest of drawers by the door, and I was lead up to the third floor, where I had a sea view room, my own en suite, fresh, clean white sheets on an incredibly suishy bed with the softest pillows I have ever slept on and even my own TV! I was very happy and the host kindly directed me to somewhere where I could make up for missing last night's dinner (I had only had The Scone and a cheese toastie since). The Old Railway Station was a new, quite hipster place, which I could see from my bedroom window. The food was excellent, but the prices were rather painful. Altogether it was an expensive, luxurious night!


The next morning I enjoyed a delicious breakfast at the Shandwick House B&B, before heading out into the still lingering gloom, following the A9 south. As I passed through the evocatively named Black Isle, I turned off the main road to visit Chanonry Point - famous for dolphin sightings. The time of year was perfect, but unfortunately the tide was on the way out, so I saw no Dolphins. I returned to the A9, and compliantly followed it until I saw a turning for Fort Augustus. I didn't hesitate to think how close Fort Augustus may be, and followed a long, tiny B road for the entire length of Loch Ness without once seeing the Loch itself. Eventually, determined to make the best of a bad decision, I took another impulsive turning, for Foyers Falls (2 miles). After a little bit of caravan-based grievance, I arrived at the falls, where I was rewarded with a beautiful green woodland, and a vista worthy of past hour's brain-numbing drive. There was a very tall waterfall, which had inspired Robert Burns. His quotes were scattered around the wood on blocks of slate. The waterfall had once been very powerful, but thanks to a hydro-electric power plant further upstream, it now poured, rather than gushed, over the cliff face.

The drop is 62 metres (165) in Gaelic it is called the smoking falls.

Calmed by the immense natural beauty (and what was becoming a trend for me to see Sunday morning waterfalls) I joined General Wade's Military Way, a slightly larger and more scenic road, which took me directly to Fort Augustus. On the way, the sun finally returned.

I nearly didn't stop in Fort Augustus due to the fact it was heaving with tourists, but having clipped a bend badly as I entered the town, I thought I had better check the car. Astrid was absolutely fine, so I grabbed an ice lolly (fending off a frenchman who didn't know how to queue) and sat in the sun by the canal scorning the tourists, whilst also hating myself for being one of them. Presently I cbecame aware of some comotion higher up the canal, and was excited to see three tourist boats making their way through the many loch gates higher up. I took lots of photos and enjoyed the sunshine and the beautiful scenery before returning to Astrid, to drive home.

This was surprisingly entertaining to watch

I was now faced with a choice: I could go out of my way to return to the A9, or I could take the shorter route back through Glencoe, Fort William and Loch Lomand. I made another bad choice.

For hours and hours I sweltered in the car, chasing idle motorhomes, winding around aggravating cyclists (there was some kind of cycle race in Glencoe, on May Bank Holiday Monday, probably one of the most traffic-intense days of the year) By the time I got to Loch Lomond it was stop-start nose to nose traffic. during a brief period in fourth gear, I passed some hitch hikers for Glasgow, and I guess I hadn't learned my lesson yet regarding impulse decisions, because I stopped, and for the first time ever I picked them up.

The boys had just finished studying at Edinburgh uni and were due to graduate this summer. They had been on a group hike of the length of Loch Lomond, which had taken them longer than my entire trip. As we drove along in the nightmarish traffic, and the rain finally caught up with me, doing nothing to alleviate the stifling heat, I was extremely grateful for the company. We discussed everything from the geography of Loch Lomand to the philosophical implications of translating a language, from social welfare projects in Massacheusets to employment opportunities for humanities graduates (as all three of us were or would soon become). I dropped them at a train station in Glasgow an hour and a half after I had planned to be home, and whilst they were very grateful, I was moreso, because I think I would have had some sort of mental breakdown being trapped in that awful queue on my own. Just thinking about it still fills me with anxiety.

When I got back, my sister and her boyfriend suggested a takeaway, so we tucked into pizza watching disney films until it was time to sleep. Over the course of the weekend I drove over 750 miles,  and decided that next weekend, I would take it easy!

County Durham Roadtrip: 21st-22nd May 2016

Slowed by a night of drinking and a dearth of sleep the night before, Astrid and I left Livingston late on Saturday morning, stopping to give her a wash, refuel and check tyre pressures before heading South-East.

At Cockburnspath I took my first deviation from the Googlemaps prescribed route - taking the Berwickshire Coastal route south to Berwick Upon Tweed. The route was very scenic and windy, along south-east Scotland's fabulously rugged clifftops, and I arrived in Berwick in good time for lunch, to surprising sunshine!

Astrid on the Berwickshire smugglers trail

Berwick Upon Tweed was a particular target of mine becauce, like Durham, it looked so pretty from the train. I was pleased to find that on foot it lived up to my expectations! Being a border town, Berick Upon Tweed was heavily fortified and evidence of its military history was omnipresent. It changed hands a number of time between Scotland and England. It was nice to have a historical twist to this pretty seaside town.

The old streets of Berwick Upon Tweed

The rail bridge from where I had first seen (and decided to visit) the town.

A beautiful church against a sky that looks like a painting!

Blossom confetti

After an unexpectedly fabulous lunch at Audela, a little cafe on Bridge Street, including an immense slight of pecan, salted caramel and ginger cake, Astrid and I hit the road again, and continued our journey south.

I arrived into Durham shortly after 4pm, and took the Park and Ride into town. This did save me the hassle (and no doubt greater expense) of driving in, but limited my stay to three hours as the Park and Ride shut at 7pm.

Durham is a beautiful city, especially so on a balmy spring afternoon. The town was packed with students and folk celebrating the warm weekend, but I headed up through the greenery on the eastern bank of the river Wear to the cathedral.

Durham Cathedral. The main tower was covered in scaffolding so this is just
part of the building...

The closk struck five as I was there. There was almost noone about, except a handful of  students literally hurrying about with books. It felt like I was on the set of the TV show Lewis - when they're walking around Oxford but there's almost nobody there. The Cathedral is massive and the architecture is amazing. Inside I found a small room (the cloister I think) with a wooden carving of a pregnant woman in the middle. In that room there was this amazing stillness, I've never felt such peace and stillness before. It was shattered when a family walked in, the father's phone ringing in his pocket. 

I had dinner at an Italian restaurant in town which I chose because it was the only independent eatery open after 5.30. It wasn't great, very busy, loud, with the waiters very rushed and as a result I was accidentally given chicken pasta. I wouldn't reccomend it. Whilst there I booked a hostel for the night, and then got the bus back to Astrid. Durham got a little more rowdy after five o clock, the streets filled with loud-voiced men in polo shorts and too much after-shave, and women in gaudy coloured tight dresses with orange legs and black eyebrows. Everyone was heading to or from a pub, and I felt smug in my trainers watching the ladies in their heels struggling with the steep cobbled streets (although that's not to say I haven't been there myself!)

Durham Market Square

Astrid's alarm was going off when I returned to the carpark but I couldn't see any disturbance, so we drove on to Langdon Beck, a tiny village in County Durham. It was a beautiful hour of driving to get there, ending at a lonely grey stone building, with only three other buildings in sight, including the church. The Youth Hostel manager was very friendly and helpful, and I had a dorm to myself as all the other guests had private rooms or were male! It was minutes before I was heading out again with camera in hand, to capture some atmospheric low lighting which turned into a pretty spectacular sunset. I found myself overwhelmed with the beauty of the day and all that I had experienced, I was so glad that I had taken this trip!

one of my favourite photos of the trip. 

One of our neighbours, about a kilometre from the hostel

The hostel itself

A photo that just says "summer evening" to me

The next morning I had a large breakfast of toast, a warm croissant, and a vegetarian English breakfast (yes, English!). Breakfast was served at 7.30 and I was back on the roadt by 8, this time for the short drive to High Force waterfall, the longest uninterrupted waterfall in the UK. The carpark wasn't yet attended and nor was the ticket station at the beginning of the walk, but I dropped some money into the honesty box and enjoyed a scenic walk to the waterfall, not meeting another human being the whole way. The waterfall was indeed impressive, but I didn't return to the carpark, instead joining a circular walk route to see Low Force waterfall (this one a series, at not such a great height) and trekking through a great many fields of sheep, hemmed by stone walls.

High Force from a distance

It interested me that most of the sheep ran away from me, one jumped into the air in shock and then ran away, bleating! One field I entered contained very friendly sheep though. Two lambs actually came to greet me and I got within two metres of them, and a ewe licked my hand and nudged my leg (I washed them thoroughly afterwards but she was cute!) in the same field I found a docked lambs tail, which was a bit gross, but interesting!

Lambs from up close. Note the lack of tails!

Finally it was time to head back north. The carpark attendant had arrived by the time I returned, and after charging me £2, he helpfully pointed out the most scenic route to Carlisle. I was practising driving with an atlas as opposed to GPS, and successfully followed a very interesting route through Alston, where I drove down the cobbled high street wincing all the way, through the thought-provokingly named Slaggyford, to join the A69 at Brampton. It was very scenic.

Astrid pulled over on our scenic drive so we could wait for a clear road

Next stop was Gretna, where I had a pleasant lunch at the Blacksmiths shop, and then on to Mabie forest, Dumfries, where my plan to go mountain biking was foiled by a lack of cycle hire. Instead I just took some photos, as it was every bit as beautiful as Durham, the Pennines, and Berwick had been in its own way! Eventually Astrid and I traipsed home.

The huge, beautiful woods. I love woodland in spring!

Close up of a mossy log surrounded by wildflowers

Overall the route was over 400 miles, and I took (on average) one photo per mile!

#Japan16 Kawaii Monster cafe on my last day

I woke early, remembering to switch my alarm off quickly to avoid waking the rest of the dorm, checked out, and was in Starbucks having breakfast by 7.30. They were out of granola today, so I just had cake. Amazing delicious chocolate cake! Definitely not a valid breakfast, even with a green tea to try and balance out the healthiness.

I took the subway to Kyoto station, and tried to reserve a seat on the Shinkansen. I asked in 100% Japanese. The lady replied in English that it was fully booked, and so was the next one, but I could ride in the unreserved carriage (they split the carriages in Japan. There's no special difference except that reserved carriages are more numerous - about 70% of the train- and less crowded. Locals have to pay extra to use them) I was doubtful that there would be room in unreserved, but thanked her anyway and gave it a try.

I was in luck. An older Japanese lady and I had three seats to ourselves and our luggage, and after she left I was able to take the window seat and charge my phone as we travelled. As with all Shinkansen trips where there are no children in the seat behind you, the journey was painless, and as I got off the bullet train for the last time, I received a bow from the cleaning staff whom I had seen preparing the train only little over a week ago.

I dropped my stuff which I didn't need immediately at another capsule hotel, and  got the train into Tokyo's Harajuku district. It felt good to be back. The public transportation was much easier as I could use my JR pass, and I didn't get lost at all after finding the hotel.

Just off Harajuku's Takeshita Dori (that's Japanese for street) on the fourth floor of an innkcuous tower was the themed pop-up restaurant Kawaii Monster Cafe. I knew I was in the right place, both from the lurid pink and purple walls, and the twenty minute queue.

This was the main reason I'd returned to Tokyo early though, so I was in no rush, and eventually I came to the front of the queue. Luckily I had picked up this useful voucher from another blog. It meant they waived the 500y table charge!

You're welcome!

The waitress was wearing a bold black and white striped dress with a bright pink half-Apron that was shaped to look like it was dripping gunge. In the wall behind her two glowing eyeballs rotated underneath the welcome sign. She asked if I was ready. I nodded "hai!" And she opened the doors into the gaudiest plastic paradise you have ever seen. A giant roundabout with ponies and bananas and candles on it like a cake was slowly spinning around. In one corner the wall was plastered in giant lips. In another giant rainbow mushrooms sheltered diners. In a third a giant bunny and a unicorn with glowing eyes drink milk from baby bottles through tubes. It was bizarre. I got seated in a section near the creepy milk drinking unicorn, where the wall was covered in shards of glass like a crazy mirror at a circus. I ordered the salad (because it was vegetarian, and also the cheapest item - bonus! - at a mere 700y) and a cup of hot tea. In Japan it is essential that you specify I you want your tea hot or iced, because both are equally acceptable. I've also been offered milk for my green tea. Eww!

As I waited, I snapped photos of the Harajuku paradise. I spied two Harajuku girls among the waiting staff (I assume they were girls, the second was too androgynous to tell, and by the time I left I was convinced it was a guy) The first had an enormous mauve wig, and a pink skirt- bandeau top combo, the skirt seemed to be made out of fluffy tails stolen off cuddly toys, and a lilac veil hanging off the back. Around her left wrist she wore a bracelet made of baby shoes, and her makeup seemed to be 60% glitter. She delivered my salad, speaking to me rapidly in Japanese with a high pitched child-like voice, and posed cutely for a photo, although it came out blurry in the low light. I believe her character name is Baby.

Really take your time to absorb everyhting that's going on with this outfit.

All of this was to a soundtrack of pulsing J-pop, it was like having lunch in a night club, utterly surreal.
The other character, Candy I think, wore leggings with a print of lips and French fries (as in, chips) and a fishnet top with a translucent neon plastic safety vest over it. They had an alligator backpack, all manner of facial piercings, and the sides of their hair cropped short with hearts painted on it. The long portion of their hair and the fringe was dyed lurid neon colours and they wore thick black eyeliner and day-glo makeup. Are you able to picture how bizarre this is yet?



After my 'Candy salad' (which was actually delicious and quite healthy feeling), I had a small 'Poison cake'. I don't know whether this name was due to a bad translation, or part of the monster theme. Either way, the base of it was a chocolate cupcake which reminded me of my own baking (it was dry and flavourless) with a blueberry sauce core, and piled high buttercream orange and blue icing. Typically of the Monster cafe the orange and blue were very vibrant clashing shades, but it didn't really taste of anything.

and of course, it came in a bell jar

Shortly after I had polished off my cake as slowly as I could (and I did enjoy it ultimately), the reason I had been taking my time paid off. The lights dimmed, and the pink-black and white waitresses summoned all of the diners to gather around the roundabout. Baby walked out in a spotlight with an LED tambourine to an even louder soundtrack. She danced a circle around the roundabout before being joined by Candy who did the same. They got up on the roundabout striking poses and wiggling their hips, which was a bit weird in Candy's case as they had no hips to speak of. They alternated dancing on and off the roundabout, sometimes riding on the little creatures on the roundabout, sometimes making monster claws like in the Michael Jackson thriller video. The regular waitresses joined in with the latter. There was also some orchestrated clapping to the beat (Yes I joined in!) and then some blonde girl got pulled up on the roundabout and given a tambourine. She was completely ordinary looking and appeared so out of place (and uncomfortable) there I felt quite sorry for her. It was bizarre, I think the whole performance lasted about five minutes and then everyone went back to their tables. I paid my bill and got a photo of Candy and Baby who were still posing on the roundabout (Candy was riding a banana but I think it was innocent). I emerged into the daylight feeling utterly bemused. It was awesome!

Like five-year-old Sophie's dream come true

It's no less weird than I decribed, is it? This is the famous
roundabout, and yes s/he is straddling a banana

 Next I got the train out to the quiet Tokyo suburb of Gotoku Ji, where I promptly got lost and wondered into a quiet Buddhist shrine where the locals looked confused to see me. I got my old friend Google Maps on the case (by now a permanent fixture in my internet tabs on my phone ) and soon made my way to Gotoku Jis biggest tourist attraction - a cat temple!

The wrong temple

I wanted to visit this temple so that I could better understand the significance of that famous Japanese Icon - the beckoning white cat. Unfortunately there was no English signage, nor any tourist guides there, but the story behind it is (roughly) thus: Many centuries ago, a shogun was travelling across Japan one evening when a storm broke. He took shelter under a tree from the rain, when he saw a white cat beckoning him to a temple. He followed the cat, and as soon as he left the tree, it was struck by lightning and fell down. The beckoning cat had saved his life, and has ever since been a symbol of good luck.

I took a few photos of the cats, the attractive pavilion in the temple grounds, and the by now ubiquitous beautiful cherry blossom (I was right about the timing when I first started my visit!) and got the local train back to Shinjuku, collecting a station stamp featuring the cat on my way.

High five... no?

At Shinjuku I wandered around for a little while, deciding it was not a very touristy area due to a) the way the locals looked at me and b) the lack of English menus. I was determined that my last meal would be Japanese and eventually found a tempura place. The guy sat next to me was probably younger than me, some kind of skater dude, but he had tattoos! I hadn't seen this before in Japan, and my only contextual knowledge of tattoos was that the wearers (owners?) were banned from most Onsen due to their connection to Japanese gang culture. I gave him sidelong looks as he slurped his Miso soup. He looked pretty harmless to me... He paid his bill and left almost as soon as my food arrived, so I guess I'll never know, but I doubt it somehow!

The tempura was very nice. I had the set meal with Miso soup (I was too scarred by the clam experience to drink any more than was the minimum to be polite), rice, pickles (my favourite!) and a nice green salad of unknown vegetables. I suspect it was garnished with dried fish flakes but what could I do? My diet in Japan was appalling enough as it was!

I returned to the capsule inn around 19:30, planning an early night. I was told my pod number but wasn't given a key. There was no locker! There were tiny shoe lockers, and my boots got locked away, but the reception desk kept the key for that. I was really uncomfortable with the arrangement, but dragged my bags up to my locker and crammed us all in. Again I unpacked everything, prepared the next morning's clothes, and re-packed. Once the noise in the dorm tailed off, I went to sleep. At 11.30 I woke up when the girl in the pod below me unpacked. She took absolutely ages unpacking and repacking a large suitcase. I fell back asleep at thirty minutes past midnight, only to be re-awoken half an hour later by two more girls moving in.
Finally 5am came, and I got up for my flight. I took the monorail to the airport, and that was the end of my adventures in Japan!