Photos can probably do the talking here - a weekend getaway to Midrid involving vermouth, tapas, jazz, tapas, dancing, tapas, sleeping and tapas...
Vermouth, coffee, ice cream and, of course, amazing tapas at the Mercado Plaza San Miguel, a great mix of old and new architecture, packed full of life-loving Madrileños.
What's wrong with the picture above? Look closely...
The only way to finish a weekend in Madrid - mostly comatose.
The B&B we stayed at in Herefordshire (sadly longer in business) had listed next to it's name in the local accommodation guide "on some days you get a glimpse of pre-industrial England". To be honest, in the Golden Valley, which borders Wales, industrial England is hard to see at all.
We had a lovely few days of pottering about between here and Wales, exploring the Wye valley - here's a couple of select (and slightly abstract) shots...
The first long-distance cycle I have attempted was combined with a trip I'd long hoped to do - travelling along Hadrian's Wall from one coast of the UK to the other. Well, perhaps "long-distance" is over-egging it - the ride actually isn't all that far, only 90 miles or so, despite the impressive sound of coast-to-coast. It was, however, my first overnight ride, which was something I was looking forward to almost as much as visiting the wall.
Joel and I took a Friday night train from Euston, with the plan being to start at Carlisle, ride the 8 or so miles west to the coast, then turn around and commence the ride as closely as possible to the path of the Wall all the way to Shields, outside Newcastle on the east side of the country by the end of the long weekend. On the way, we were planning to stop at many of the ancient Roman sites along the way - but there was a lot more than that to see (such as Lanercost Priory, whose undercroft is shown above), and with a fairly gentle pace of around 30-40 miles a day, it was set to be a great trip.
Something we couldn't plan for, however, was the weather - fortunately we were treated with some incredible meteorology to provide some little-needed extra drama to the Cumbrian and Northumbrian landscape. The wall was built along some truly spectacular terrain, largely due to the fact that an escarpment running along much of the breadth of the country provided the perfect natural defence to be augmented with the construction of the 16 ft wall for barbarian-proofing the south of Britain.
As ever, early-morning walks provided further opportunities for the capture of interesting light across this amazing stretch of the island - which somehow doesn't suffer too much from the rather sever lens-flare I was picking up.
The wall itself is an incredible feat. Stretching 75 miles across the country and raised in its heyday to a height of 5-6 metres (only a couple of metres short of the Great Wall of China), it was also tracked by one of the magnificent roads (now known as the Military Road) that the Romans laid down and is still in use today. Behind the wall was dug large ditch (ironically known now as the "Vallum" - "Wall" in Latin), the purpose of which is still unsure (as a defensive ditch would be on the north side of the wall rather than the south).
The Wall, above, and Vallum, below.
While the wall is now seriously degraded, largely through stone-pilfering to build local houses and fencing, it is still incredibly impressive, as are many of the well-presented Roman sites along the wall. The playing-card-shaped forts are particularly interesting to visit - large stone fortifications housing hundreds of troops, which were identical in layout across the Roman Empire. When one garrison was posted to the wall was relieved by another, they pulled down the entire thing... only for the fresh troops to build an identical one on top. An interesting twist of policy in the Roman army, aimed no doubt at instilling a sense of ownership in the new garrison, which has meant that when the soldiers threw away much of their detritus as they left, it was packed down under the layer of clay used to flatten out the site for the incoming troops to build. As a result of this practice and the qualities of the clay used, matchless examples of everyday items are on display at museums all along the Wall.
We were, of course, also doing a fair bit of riding. The trip was generally very good from that perspective, with the only mechanical problem being a broken chain (Joel MD attending, above). The cycling was superb, with some particularly enjoyable stretches down towards Newcastle, with a 6-mile downhill stretch and then a gorgeous ride along the Tyne to finish.
The final leg was out to Shields, on the east coast of the country, before our return to Newcastle for our train ride back to London. I was expecting Newcastle to not be much to look at, thanks to fairly negative reviews from friends - however was pleasantly surprised to see it is a pleasant city with a lovely centre, and delightful station - all the more so as it was our embarkation point for the first unpedalled motion for 3 days!
Just one last photo - as mentioned, we found some very interesting locations along the way. I think Joel found this one particularly captivating - I'm sure he has managed to get out by now.
Finally, after years of wanting to explore the cradle of so much of my heritage, last April I made it to Norfolk... or is it Norwich... for some reason, my brain refuses to distinguish the two, to the endless amusement of a certain Norfolker I know. It was a great way to be introduced to the place though - top down in a sports car. Yes, the car's top.
Catherine does her bit for conservation...
Meteora had long held an allure for me, ever since my grandparents had come back from a trip to Europe with incredible photos of towering limestone pillars topped with ancient monasteries. I finally managed to quench that desire, which I guess is grounded in my unreasonable love of obstinate, if not insane, human endeavour in beautiful localities around the world. Machu Picchu, Petra, Santorini, Mont St-Michel; this place belongs firmly in those ranks.
As may have been picked up from earlier posts regarding this trip, we had made something of a mission (dare I say pilgrimage) southwards through Albania from Montenegro over a couple of days, to reach here (rather by chance than design) on the weekend of the Greek Orthodox Easter. Depending on the vagaries of the synchopation of the Julian and Gregorian calendars (yes, that Julius - if you have the interest and inclination, look up just how much the first Imperator changed the world with a single stroke of common-sense), the Orthodox Easter can be a week after that of the occidental churches. Surprise! - we wandered in like it was Bethlehem in the middle of, oh, say, census time 2009 years earlier.
We were lucky enough to do a little better than Joe and Mazza that year though, and managed to get a room in Kalastraki (thanks to a late cancellation), and surprisingly at a quite reasonable price, rather than a stable full of animal poop. Having arrived in the dark, we were astonished on opening the blinds the next morning to see from our first floor balcony, a view straight up the valley to the monasteries. Needless to say, we had decided to make the most of the day (and I'll admit, the best hours of morning and evening light for photography) and headed straight up to experience the awesome spectacle of the sun rising over the limestone carsts.
Knowing it wasn't going to be too long before busloads of holidaying greeks started arriving - this being one of the holiest Christian sites in Greece, it was inevitable - so we drove back to the foot of some of the pillars and started a walk up through the forest. This was simply spectacular, with sunlight filtering down through the leaves as we wound our way up to one of the largest monasteries, which is also the first to be built (succinctly named Grand Meteora).
Arriving there before the crowds (who I presume were enjoying a vast Greek breakfast in the valley below) also meant that we had a chance to wander around and enjoy the atmosphere of the monasteries. Large and in some cases still functioning, the contrast (as often seems to be the case in such places) between the opulent spaces dedicated to worship and the spartan living and working areas of the complexes is enormous. Much of the traditional life, unlike in Western Europe, remains as it has for centuries, right down to the manner in which visiting monks are raised to the monastery - the spindle below has a rope net attached to the other end, which is still in use today for hauling up monks from the valley floor...
... of course, in some instances there has been some modernisation...
The day was rounded out by zipping around the road on the plateau behind the monasteries to capture the sunset as it dropped behind the hills on the other side of the valley - truly a magical place, which leaves you not too much of a stretch in understanding the motives of the original hermits, and the many after, who came here to first carve out a place amongst these majestic towers in their search for illumination.
Our entrance into Greece was another rather interesting border crossing; getting in late due to our bumpy ride through Albania, we slid back into the EU and back on to high-speed motorways. The result was that in half an hour we had covered almost as much ground as we had in an afternoon of driving - not quite in time for us to reach Kalpaki, where we had aimed to be for the night, before around 11 o'clock. Ringing fruitlessly at the door of a guesthouse we found, we spent an enjoyable several hours being directed round in circles by very friendly (but not so helpful) locals until we ended being pointed back to the very same house we had stopped at; this time however they answered and we ended up with a room for the night.
In the morning we headed into the hills of the Zagoria region - commencing with what had to be the most memorable meal of the trip; a simple and extraordinarily tasty Greek breakfast: freshly-made marmalade, crusty bread and delicious local cheese all washed down with thick greek coffee as we looked out over the stone villages clinging to the side of the hills and canyons.
Soundly reinforced, we wandered our way to and through the beautifully quiet villages, until we found ourselves overlooking the Vikos gorge, arguably the largest in Europe.Whether it is or not, I don't think I'm misusing the term when I say it is breathtaking; I'd challenge anyone to stand at its edge and not hold theirs involuntarily for at least a few seconds.
Gawping and gasping done with (and it took some time), it was time for further fortification; a restaurant on the town square duly presented itself, with a terrace under vine leaves. It had only taken half a day of being in Greece again to remind me just how amazing the place is; the people, history, food and stark natural beauty of the place all combine to make it an absolute pleasure every step of the way. In this case, lunch in the Zagori village of Mikro Papingo, all of those attributes were amply on demonstration; a delicious greek salad the highlight, with delicious (and cheap!) local wine, beautifully barbequeued meat and some delicious accompanying sides. Heaven would be shadowed by this, particularly with all the plunky harp music (and probably crap wine).
The afternoon saw us winding our way eastwards through the countryside, with a few stops to admire some of the beautiful old stone bridges in the region, and to walk the more irresistible paths we came across. The topic of discussion: how soon we could come back with allies to continue our pleasurable campaign across the hills of northern Greece.
