The Play is the Thing
Today I will be seeing As You Like It and Winter's Tale at the Courtyard today.
After breakfast I took a walk to town to explore. I went over Clopton Bridge along Banberry Road to find the house I stayed in during my studies here 24 years ago. I made my way back along the River Avon along the recreation park side. I stopped at a barge and spent some time speaking about his life on the barge. He spends six months on the barge and the other six in Norfolk. I spent time watching the dogs play in the recreation park and swim. I crossed the Avon via the walking bridge and made my way to the Shakespeare Institute. I strolled around and it was pretty much the same as when I was here.
I had to get ready, so I stopped at the Co-Op to buy lunch, a couple of sandwiches and a couple of ciders. I stopped at a souvenir shop and the Shakespeare shop to buy things. I dropped things off at the B&B.
I set off to the banks of the Avon to find a place to picnic. I found a tree between the Parish and the RSC on the Avon. Splendid spot as I watched the boaters and sea birds.
My seat was in the first row right at the stage. The play was beautifully done. Touchstone and Jacques were superb. My favorite passages were done well. Rosalind and Celia were excellent. I didn't really think I could see another AYL done so well, yet I have. The set was plain and then became so intricate. At the beginning of the second half, Sylvus was dressing a rabbit to applause when he held up the skinned carcass and toss the fur to Touchstone. The bawdiness of the second half was hilarious and well done.
I will rest before having dinner at the Windmill Inn before seeing Winter's Tale.
Another great play done well. I'm amazed at the intricacies of the sets. After the play went to the Dirty Duck and had a good conversation with the Camillo character.
The plays at RSC this summer will be in NYC next summer. Can't wait.
Off to London tomorrow.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Biking in Stratford upon Avon
Biking in Stratford upon Avon
I woke at half six and took a walk into town to take pictures as the sun was rising and the place was sans people. I will have to remember to take some bread tomorrow because the swans and ducks expect food.
I returned home for breakfast and then headed out to rent a bike for the day. I walked to the bike rental spot in the Greenway and waited five minutes for Vic to open the rental shop. He outfitted me with a Trek Hybrid, a helmet, a tube, a pump, and a lock all for 13 pounds for the day. Vic provided me with a map that would take me on a 27 mile ride through the Cotswolds. He suggested a lunch stop at the Howard Arms. I had a carrot soup and a plate of Cotswold cheese with a couple of good ales. I picked berries as I rode. Farmers had bins of surplus fruit, plums, apples, and tomatoes available for free.
I started with a five mile ride along a Greenway, which is a converted railroad track, so I could used to the bike. t has been two weeks since I ode my bike. It felt good. Once off the Greenway I was riding through delightful roads or lanes in the Cotswold.
Went to the Dirty Duck for dinner and then to the windmill for the quiz. Took a walk to the birthplace on the way home.
I woke at half six and took a walk into town to take pictures as the sun was rising and the place was sans people. I will have to remember to take some bread tomorrow because the swans and ducks expect food.
I returned home for breakfast and then headed out to rent a bike for the day. I walked to the bike rental spot in the Greenway and waited five minutes for Vic to open the rental shop. He outfitted me with a Trek Hybrid, a helmet, a tube, a pump, and a lock all for 13 pounds for the day. Vic provided me with a map that would take me on a 27 mile ride through the Cotswolds. He suggested a lunch stop at the Howard Arms. I had a carrot soup and a plate of Cotswold cheese with a couple of good ales. I picked berries as I rode. Farmers had bins of surplus fruit, plums, apples, and tomatoes available for free.
I started with a five mile ride along a Greenway, which is a converted railroad track, so I could used to the bike. t has been two weeks since I ode my bike. It felt good. Once off the Greenway I was riding through delightful roads or lanes in the Cotswold.
Went to the Dirty Duck for dinner and then to the windmill for the quiz. Took a walk to the birthplace on the way home.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
To Stratford upon Avon
To Stratford upon Avon
We woke at six and left the hostel by half six to get Heather to the airport for her 9AM flight. The roads were clear and we made it without a hitch. The airport was crowded as would be expected. After dropping off Heather I headed to car drop off. After dropping the key, I headed for the Glasglow flyer, the bus to Glasgow. I arrived at Central Station at half seven. It was from here I was to catch the half eleven to Birmingham and transfer to a train to Stratford upon Avon. I walked through the empty city to the Cathedral. I stopped in a store to pick up supplies for the train. I walked around the cathedral grounds. Walking back to town, I stopped to get a proper Scottish breakfast. I made my way back to the center to catch the City tour bus. My ticket from yesterday was still good, so I killed some time taking the tour again. I was the only passenger for the beginning of the tour and sat up top as we viewed an empty Glasgow. A far different sight this morning as compared to yesterday. Seeing these streets empty, especially Buchanan Street was refreshing. After the tour I made my way to the Weaver's Shop on Buchanan and St Vincent's Place to get some MacLeod scarves. It was 1110 when I got to Central Station and the train I wanted was just announced. I made my way my seat which had a table and electricity on the window. The other three seats were empty and I was going to get a seat mate at Carlisle, the first stop. Glasgow is a lovely city and we look forward to returning to it again.
We are cruising along at a good clip. As we were aligned with a motorway, we were flying by the cars that are probably going at about 60-70 mph, which means we are probably traveling at 90-100 mph. It is impossible to get pictures, but the eye takes it all in. The pastures are plenty. Some have sheep others have cows. In one pasture all the cows are grazing, their heads to the ground as they stroll through the pasture. In the next the cows are all lying down. In another a mother is cleaning a new born that is sleeping all curled up. The same goes for the sheep. In one field they are grazing in the next all lying down. The cows are of different variety from pasture to pasture. The sheep are pretty much of the same variety. I'm not seeing the sheep variety here that we see in the highlands or the islands or elsewhere. More cows here than sheep, actually. The care of the pastures varies. In some I see rolls of hay and then black rolled bales of hay in the next. Some pastures are well manicured by the livestock while others seem to be left alone. It seems as if they have just had a cutting as I see fewer fields of hay then those with cut and rolled bails in them. The lay of the land varies as we pass along. Severe hills with paths carved into them and then a slew of rolling soft meadows and gentle paths made by the sheep or hikers. Bike paths follow the train tracks fro village to village. Each village offers lovely snapshots of life as seen in their backyard gardens, play sets, and laundry lines. The one constant in all of this are the stone walls. The number of stone walls, the care of them, the height of them and the power of them is very evident. Some are augmented by a hedgerow, another with a wire fence. The gates that allow passage from one pasture to another are sometimes ornate, other times just functional. In the mountainous area of Scotland, the evidence of good practice in lumbering is evident as I see the plan for harvest and also the replanting scheme. Another beautiful sight are the windmill farms that dot the landscape. I a awed by them for their beauty and function. Clean energy is such an important way. I'm still wondering how politicians and others can be against these beautiful instruments of power when we know the damage coal mining in all forms and its use is so bad to the environment and how oil drilling and using are also so bad for the environment. Sure money is to be made in the latter forms of energy and that may be the cynics response. But that is not enough today as we see the affects of the Gulf spill by BP and become more aware of similar disasters all over the world in the backwater areas of South America where the crimes of the oil companies are hidden deep in the jungles and away from the eyes of the world. Or in Africa where corrupt leaders keep their dark secrets by using force and murder to quiet the noise of the people who are affected. As we leave Scotland and get into England the density of mankind is growing. I'm still in the outer island frame of mind of empty roads and beaches, in spite of our gentle entrance back via Glasgow. The stops are coming fast and furious after Carlisle which was an hour after we started. Then a Lake District town, Oxenholm and then a very dense Lancaster. I'm still amazed at he narrowness of the roads as they make there way through under and over the train tracks and follow the train then suddenly veer away in the undergrowth only to reappear further down or in some passing village. The stops aren't very long. No sooner have we stopped then within minutes we are off again. The same was true of the ferries on the islands. Very efficient. I've been on the train for two hours now and have three hours left.
The pastures are beginning to give way to the occasional playing field of cricket and soccer. More walkways over the roads and highway for walking appear as trailer parks pop up now and then. A car pulling a trailer has a smoking engine as it is stopped on a bridge, bad luck. The occasional train passes going in the other direction. I'm not on that side of the train. I sat going backwards for the first hour and switch to ride going forward the next hour. Preston is filled with row houses and is a real industrial town. Civilization is always marked by the ubiquitous steeple spires. The horizon is filled with the red brick row of chimneys and then lanes of tracks leading from Preston to other points. We are speeding into the density of England too fast. Crowds join us at Preston. One thing about these trains is people have reserved seats. We are at the halfway point. I know when we are arriving in Wigan because the soccer stadium is in clear view on our right and soccer fields dot the town on the left. I have abandoned my seat and taken the other reserved seat and now one of the available seats has been taken by a young man with a book about Ozzy by Ozzy. Before Crewe we pass a large nuclear power plant with eight stacks in the middle of nowhere. After Crewe huge stand of tall oaks trees following by corn fields. Now the pastures are speckled with huge solitary trees and more green houses. The stone walls are getting smaller and more manicured. Community gardens are surrounded by playing fields with boys playing pickup soccer. Industry is replacing agrarian. And suddenly a canal with locks. An occasional barge is spied and strollers along the tow path on this lazy sunny Sunday in the Lake country near Kidsgrove. The train has slowed down to as little as 15 for a long stretch as we are changing tracks. The speed enjoyed earlier has tempered itself to average 60 and even 40 for long stretches. Once through the switching we get back to proper speeds expected. Into Stoke-on-Trent and a lovely station, the home of Slash and the Stoke City footballers. Now I see the signs indicating speeds of 85-100. The stone walls have given way to wooden fences, wire fences, and hedgerows. It is as if we are in hyperspeed now as the vegetation by the tracks is that blur as represented in our sci-fi films. The backyard gardens are getting more and more beautiful and so elaborate. The landscape has become more rural again with pastures of cows and sheep, and rolled hay. More canals are seen as well.
Caravan storage and sales shops have now begun to appear. Barges are aplenty now and four of them are lined up waiting their turn at the lock. At Nuneaton we lose lots of passengers and the train is relatively empty. We have another hour before Birmingham New Street where I transfer to the train to Stratford. During the train ride a man has come along the train to collect trash. At Rugby we are resting here for 20 minutes and crews of cleaners come through and collect all the trash and neaten up the empty seats. Again, I am in a pac where one sees no trash in the streets or even at the train stations. I don't see garbage bins, and yet I don't see trash. In NYC, we have trash cans everywhere and we have trash all over the streets. Maybe we should just get rid of the trash cans, since we don't use them. NYC is a filthy city. It's trains and busses and its streets tell me this. The only places I've seen trash have been around McDonalds. Seems like trash is one of our great imports.
Heather should be landing soon. And I haven't even got to Birmingham yet. We are about 40 minutes away. We are now going back the way we came. I suspect we will take a spur line that puts us in the Birmingham direction. How strange. Quickly we are in Coventry which has a large crowd waiting for our train. A large number of people get off and since more people are getting on, the seats fill. Not much old stuff in Coventry except the famous spires that are about all that made it through the German bombings of WWII. Approaching the stop before mine, Birmingham International, so it is time to gather a of my stuff before we enter Birmingham proper. The last time I was in Birmingham was 24 years ago when I took the train from Brighton and then caught a bus to Stratford. This time I will take another train which will take me an hour.
The walk from New St to Moor Street was easy and got me outside and up into a bright warm sun. The Moor St station is some out of the past. Immediately I see A Thomas the Tank Engine type train on the tracks. After passing through the turnstile to get to my train and getting to my platform, an old stream engine pulls an old train into the station.It is the Shakespeare Express. This is not my train. My train arrives and it a more modern three car train. Stratford is the last stop and I will be there in about an hour.
When I arrive in Stratford, I'm immediately taken by the new buildings by the train and the large hotel. I walk out of the station and to the traffic lights to Arden Street where I cross the street and turn left. One hundred yards is my B&B, The Arden Park B&B. Mark, my host, greets me at the door and helps me settle in. I have a lovely room on the third floor. After unpacking and getting myself organized I head into town. I am amazed at how much this place has changed, the traffic at half seven, and all the new construction. I recognize little. Using the map Mark gave me, I find myself at the Avon in front of the construction of the main theater. I follow the construction to the Dirty Duck. It has not changed as I go up the winding stairs and into the Actor's Pub. I get a pint and wander around only to notice a new addition on the back, more restaurant space. I retire to the patio to have my pin t and look across to the Avon to the newly made park. I can barely see the spire of the church where Shakespeare lies. After my pint I continue onto the parish. So much new stuff I can barely see the parish. I turn up Old Town pass Hall's Croft to Church Street and see the Shakespeare Institute, where I spent much time 24 years ago, and the Windmill Inn, another old haunt. It is unchanged, except the back yard has been improved and I find a table back there to sit. I get a pint of Flowers and order sausage and mash. I stroll back to the B&B and head off to sleep. It is 10 already and it has been a long day for me.
Heather has arrived home safely.
We woke at six and left the hostel by half six to get Heather to the airport for her 9AM flight. The roads were clear and we made it without a hitch. The airport was crowded as would be expected. After dropping off Heather I headed to car drop off. After dropping the key, I headed for the Glasglow flyer, the bus to Glasgow. I arrived at Central Station at half seven. It was from here I was to catch the half eleven to Birmingham and transfer to a train to Stratford upon Avon. I walked through the empty city to the Cathedral. I stopped in a store to pick up supplies for the train. I walked around the cathedral grounds. Walking back to town, I stopped to get a proper Scottish breakfast. I made my way back to the center to catch the City tour bus. My ticket from yesterday was still good, so I killed some time taking the tour again. I was the only passenger for the beginning of the tour and sat up top as we viewed an empty Glasgow. A far different sight this morning as compared to yesterday. Seeing these streets empty, especially Buchanan Street was refreshing. After the tour I made my way to the Weaver's Shop on Buchanan and St Vincent's Place to get some MacLeod scarves. It was 1110 when I got to Central Station and the train I wanted was just announced. I made my way my seat which had a table and electricity on the window. The other three seats were empty and I was going to get a seat mate at Carlisle, the first stop. Glasgow is a lovely city and we look forward to returning to it again.
We are cruising along at a good clip. As we were aligned with a motorway, we were flying by the cars that are probably going at about 60-70 mph, which means we are probably traveling at 90-100 mph. It is impossible to get pictures, but the eye takes it all in. The pastures are plenty. Some have sheep others have cows. In one pasture all the cows are grazing, their heads to the ground as they stroll through the pasture. In the next the cows are all lying down. In another a mother is cleaning a new born that is sleeping all curled up. The same goes for the sheep. In one field they are grazing in the next all lying down. The cows are of different variety from pasture to pasture. The sheep are pretty much of the same variety. I'm not seeing the sheep variety here that we see in the highlands or the islands or elsewhere. More cows here than sheep, actually. The care of the pastures varies. In some I see rolls of hay and then black rolled bales of hay in the next. Some pastures are well manicured by the livestock while others seem to be left alone. It seems as if they have just had a cutting as I see fewer fields of hay then those with cut and rolled bails in them. The lay of the land varies as we pass along. Severe hills with paths carved into them and then a slew of rolling soft meadows and gentle paths made by the sheep or hikers. Bike paths follow the train tracks fro village to village. Each village offers lovely snapshots of life as seen in their backyard gardens, play sets, and laundry lines. The one constant in all of this are the stone walls. The number of stone walls, the care of them, the height of them and the power of them is very evident. Some are augmented by a hedgerow, another with a wire fence. The gates that allow passage from one pasture to another are sometimes ornate, other times just functional. In the mountainous area of Scotland, the evidence of good practice in lumbering is evident as I see the plan for harvest and also the replanting scheme. Another beautiful sight are the windmill farms that dot the landscape. I a awed by them for their beauty and function. Clean energy is such an important way. I'm still wondering how politicians and others can be against these beautiful instruments of power when we know the damage coal mining in all forms and its use is so bad to the environment and how oil drilling and using are also so bad for the environment. Sure money is to be made in the latter forms of energy and that may be the cynics response. But that is not enough today as we see the affects of the Gulf spill by BP and become more aware of similar disasters all over the world in the backwater areas of South America where the crimes of the oil companies are hidden deep in the jungles and away from the eyes of the world. Or in Africa where corrupt leaders keep their dark secrets by using force and murder to quiet the noise of the people who are affected. As we leave Scotland and get into England the density of mankind is growing. I'm still in the outer island frame of mind of empty roads and beaches, in spite of our gentle entrance back via Glasgow. The stops are coming fast and furious after Carlisle which was an hour after we started. Then a Lake District town, Oxenholm and then a very dense Lancaster. I'm still amazed at he narrowness of the roads as they make there way through under and over the train tracks and follow the train then suddenly veer away in the undergrowth only to reappear further down or in some passing village. The stops aren't very long. No sooner have we stopped then within minutes we are off again. The same was true of the ferries on the islands. Very efficient. I've been on the train for two hours now and have three hours left.
The pastures are beginning to give way to the occasional playing field of cricket and soccer. More walkways over the roads and highway for walking appear as trailer parks pop up now and then. A car pulling a trailer has a smoking engine as it is stopped on a bridge, bad luck. The occasional train passes going in the other direction. I'm not on that side of the train. I sat going backwards for the first hour and switch to ride going forward the next hour. Preston is filled with row houses and is a real industrial town. Civilization is always marked by the ubiquitous steeple spires. The horizon is filled with the red brick row of chimneys and then lanes of tracks leading from Preston to other points. We are speeding into the density of England too fast. Crowds join us at Preston. One thing about these trains is people have reserved seats. We are at the halfway point. I know when we are arriving in Wigan because the soccer stadium is in clear view on our right and soccer fields dot the town on the left. I have abandoned my seat and taken the other reserved seat and now one of the available seats has been taken by a young man with a book about Ozzy by Ozzy. Before Crewe we pass a large nuclear power plant with eight stacks in the middle of nowhere. After Crewe huge stand of tall oaks trees following by corn fields. Now the pastures are speckled with huge solitary trees and more green houses. The stone walls are getting smaller and more manicured. Community gardens are surrounded by playing fields with boys playing pickup soccer. Industry is replacing agrarian. And suddenly a canal with locks. An occasional barge is spied and strollers along the tow path on this lazy sunny Sunday in the Lake country near Kidsgrove. The train has slowed down to as little as 15 for a long stretch as we are changing tracks. The speed enjoyed earlier has tempered itself to average 60 and even 40 for long stretches. Once through the switching we get back to proper speeds expected. Into Stoke-on-Trent and a lovely station, the home of Slash and the Stoke City footballers. Now I see the signs indicating speeds of 85-100. The stone walls have given way to wooden fences, wire fences, and hedgerows. It is as if we are in hyperspeed now as the vegetation by the tracks is that blur as represented in our sci-fi films. The backyard gardens are getting more and more beautiful and so elaborate. The landscape has become more rural again with pastures of cows and sheep, and rolled hay. More canals are seen as well.
Caravan storage and sales shops have now begun to appear. Barges are aplenty now and four of them are lined up waiting their turn at the lock. At Nuneaton we lose lots of passengers and the train is relatively empty. We have another hour before Birmingham New Street where I transfer to the train to Stratford. During the train ride a man has come along the train to collect trash. At Rugby we are resting here for 20 minutes and crews of cleaners come through and collect all the trash and neaten up the empty seats. Again, I am in a pac where one sees no trash in the streets or even at the train stations. I don't see garbage bins, and yet I don't see trash. In NYC, we have trash cans everywhere and we have trash all over the streets. Maybe we should just get rid of the trash cans, since we don't use them. NYC is a filthy city. It's trains and busses and its streets tell me this. The only places I've seen trash have been around McDonalds. Seems like trash is one of our great imports.
Heather should be landing soon. And I haven't even got to Birmingham yet. We are about 40 minutes away. We are now going back the way we came. I suspect we will take a spur line that puts us in the Birmingham direction. How strange. Quickly we are in Coventry which has a large crowd waiting for our train. A large number of people get off and since more people are getting on, the seats fill. Not much old stuff in Coventry except the famous spires that are about all that made it through the German bombings of WWII. Approaching the stop before mine, Birmingham International, so it is time to gather a of my stuff before we enter Birmingham proper. The last time I was in Birmingham was 24 years ago when I took the train from Brighton and then caught a bus to Stratford. This time I will take another train which will take me an hour.
The walk from New St to Moor Street was easy and got me outside and up into a bright warm sun. The Moor St station is some out of the past. Immediately I see A Thomas the Tank Engine type train on the tracks. After passing through the turnstile to get to my train and getting to my platform, an old stream engine pulls an old train into the station.It is the Shakespeare Express. This is not my train. My train arrives and it a more modern three car train. Stratford is the last stop and I will be there in about an hour.
When I arrive in Stratford, I'm immediately taken by the new buildings by the train and the large hotel. I walk out of the station and to the traffic lights to Arden Street where I cross the street and turn left. One hundred yards is my B&B, The Arden Park B&B. Mark, my host, greets me at the door and helps me settle in. I have a lovely room on the third floor. After unpacking and getting myself organized I head into town. I am amazed at how much this place has changed, the traffic at half seven, and all the new construction. I recognize little. Using the map Mark gave me, I find myself at the Avon in front of the construction of the main theater. I follow the construction to the Dirty Duck. It has not changed as I go up the winding stairs and into the Actor's Pub. I get a pint and wander around only to notice a new addition on the back, more restaurant space. I retire to the patio to have my pin t and look across to the Avon to the newly made park. I can barely see the spire of the church where Shakespeare lies. After my pint I continue onto the parish. So much new stuff I can barely see the parish. I turn up Old Town pass Hall's Croft to Church Street and see the Shakespeare Institute, where I spent much time 24 years ago, and the Windmill Inn, another old haunt. It is unchanged, except the back yard has been improved and I find a table back there to sit. I get a pint of Flowers and order sausage and mash. I stroll back to the B&B and head off to sleep. It is 10 already and it has been a long day for me.
Heather has arrived home safely.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
A Day in Glasgow
I wake at 630 and head downstairs to do some laundry to get me through the last week. Heather is sleeping peacefully. The day is lovely. Brisk and cool as we had one of those early morning ubiquitous rains. Now the sun is shining. I put in a wash, go out to the car and have a banana, a couple of hidden valley bars, and a bottle of water for breakfast. I stretch in the brisk air and take in the city fro this elevated perch where the hostel is located. The view of Glasgow from our room is breathtaking. People are leaving as the activity of a hostel in the early morning is busy. I spend time with the blog as I do my laundry.
We head out at 10AM and walk to the Spas to see if we can make Heather an appointment. Long story short, they are booked. We move on to the tour bus stop and wait for a bus so we can tour Glasgow. Eventually a bus appears and we spend the next two hours touring Glasgow. It is a beautiful day and since this is a three day weekend the city is very crowded and being on the bus allows us a chance to see the city easily.
When we have completed the loop, we get off where we started and go into Tennet's for lunch. It is crowded because of an English Premier game, Blackburn vs Arsenal. Arsenal scores two while we are there. We share a fish and chips, while I sample half pints of three ales I haven't had before. There are about 20 taps in this place and I have not seen about half of them before. We return to the hostel. Heather decides to rest before our dinner and I go back to city center to JJB to get a Glasgow Rangers a blue and red long sleeved goalie shirt.
When I return we head to our 5PM dinner reservations at Stravaign2. The food is a fusion of Southeast Asia and Scottish. All local foods with a taste of Indonesia and Thai. I discover they have three Czech beers I rarely see in America and one in particular, Czech Budweiser Budvar. There is a long story about this 700 year old beer and the American beer giant, and it ain't pretty as you can well imagine. A similar story to the American McDonald's and the very old MacDonald's in Scotland.
Heather starts with a mackerel pate and will have the salmon for her main course. I will have three starters: the mussels, the haggis, and a duck spring roll with a Krusovice Imperial. Everything is fabulous. Heather has a nutmeg tart while I have a Krusovice Black for dessert.
We return to the hostel and do our packing. Heather is heading home and I to Stratford upon Avon and then to London for the next week. This has been a most relaxing and enjoyable experience. Lots of good food, good weather mixed with the typical or atypical Scottish weather; but most importantly a time of renewal for us.
We head out at 10AM and walk to the Spas to see if we can make Heather an appointment. Long story short, they are booked. We move on to the tour bus stop and wait for a bus so we can tour Glasgow. Eventually a bus appears and we spend the next two hours touring Glasgow. It is a beautiful day and since this is a three day weekend the city is very crowded and being on the bus allows us a chance to see the city easily.
When we have completed the loop, we get off where we started and go into Tennet's for lunch. It is crowded because of an English Premier game, Blackburn vs Arsenal. Arsenal scores two while we are there. We share a fish and chips, while I sample half pints of three ales I haven't had before. There are about 20 taps in this place and I have not seen about half of them before. We return to the hostel. Heather decides to rest before our dinner and I go back to city center to JJB to get a Glasgow Rangers a blue and red long sleeved goalie shirt.
When I return we head to our 5PM dinner reservations at Stravaign2. The food is a fusion of Southeast Asia and Scottish. All local foods with a taste of Indonesia and Thai. I discover they have three Czech beers I rarely see in America and one in particular, Czech Budweiser Budvar. There is a long story about this 700 year old beer and the American beer giant, and it ain't pretty as you can well imagine. A similar story to the American McDonald's and the very old MacDonald's in Scotland.
Heather starts with a mackerel pate and will have the salmon for her main course. I will have three starters: the mussels, the haggis, and a duck spring roll with a Krusovice Imperial. Everything is fabulous. Heather has a nutmeg tart while I have a Krusovice Black for dessert.
We return to the hostel and do our packing. Heather is heading home and I to Stratford upon Avon and then to London for the next week. This has been a most relaxing and enjoyable experience. Lots of good food, good weather mixed with the typical or atypical Scottish weather; but most importantly a time of renewal for us.
Friday, August 27, 2010
To Glasgow
We wake at 645 to pack up and to have breakfast before getting in the standby line for the ferry. The sun is out, but an ominous cloud hovers over the bluff approaching Lochboisdale. While we are in the lounge, Heather points out a full rainbow over the harbor and into the hills. I grab the camera and go out into the light rain to capture this fabulous rainbow. It is too large and close to fit in one picture so I just snap away. As if we didn't think it could get any better.
Breakfast was well peopled as we were looking at our fellow passengers. It is 8AM and we make our way to the car and watch as the ferry arrives and they begin the loading process. This is the second stop as this ferry came from Barra. People are on all decks watching the loading process. It is slowed as the crew has to move a bus to allow for the campers getting on. We will get on, but larger campers and vehicles behind us go on first and we are last since we are a small car and can fit. When we make it upstairs we find people all over the place, sleeping and spread out in most of the couches. We head to the tables in the dining area and find a table with electricity. This will be needed for the five hour passage as I will be writing. Heather wanders the ferry, finds a quite place with luxurious airplane chairs and sleeps for awhile. The captain announces basking sharks on the starboard side and the ship seems to list to the starboard. Nothing sighted by the passengers. About an hour from port he announces the kitchen is serving lunch and the tables fill with passengers and their meals. We have to remember those people who got on before us have been onboard for two hours more than us.
Oban is a beautiful old city perfectly located in a very protected harbor. It is a sailor's delight as the yacht club is filled with fine looking vessels and the expanse of sea in which to sail is massive. As we disembark we have to wind our way through the city to exit and to get on the road to Glasgow. The town is charming as we pass the railroad station and drive along the quaint streets as we egress Oban. Hills greet us as we exit and than after we clear the crest it is downhill for a while as the road snakes into the countryside.
The drive to Glasgow is about two hours and is smooth as most of the traffic is going in the other direction. It is a three day holiday since Monday is a bank holiday. UK has bank holidays and we in the USA have federal holidays. We run into some traffic on the M8 in Glasgow as traffic has built going to Stirling and Edinburgh. We get off the M8 and Charing X and follow directions to the hostel. Problem it is the wrong hostel. We get directions to our hostel and we arrive to find they have a room for us tonight. We settle in and get directions to some good local food restaurants which are walking distance through Kalvingrove Park, University of Glasgow to Byres Road. Byres Road is a busy street of shops, restaurants and a subway stop. Lots of taxis wait at the subway stop.
We are looking for a specific restaurant and can't find it. We go into a shop to inquire and we are directed to an alley across the street to find ?????. They are booked, sowe make a reservation for tomorrow evening at 5PM since it is the only one available other than 945. We inquire about another eatery and she tells us about Ubiquitous Chip across the street in Ashon Lane. She calls and makes a reservation for us. We go across into the pub and up some stairs to an open air restaurant that was converted from horse stables to this fine eatery in 1971. We discover the name comes fro the habit of Scottish people having chips with every meal. The owner decided to open a restaurant of fine dining made from local products and serve no chips.
I order an ale made especially for the restaurant and Heather has a cranberry juice. The menu is impressive and we are debating about what to eat. The soup we are told is a pumpkin and parmessan soup. We order that to share. Heather orders a Calander Chanterele pan fried with Ayrshire Streaky bacon and tarragon served on a brioche starter and a Seil Island Partan Crab Salad. I order the haggis to start and a Dumfriesshire Lamb. The entire meal is fabulous and not rushed. We comment on how lucky we have been in finding the better restaurants in which to eat. The food has been superb, except that one misstep. For dessert Heather has the blueberry and vanilla pannacotta an dI have the poached pear with gingerbread ice cream.
As we leave the restaurant via the back door we discover a whole new world hidden fro the made road. It is filled with bars and restaurants. It is the nigh scene. We stroll though and head to a spa that our waitress told us about. It is on a perpendicular street to the one we are on and will take us back to the hostel. When we get to the corner after passing more fine restaurants, we find a church converted into a theater dinner club. It is the center of activity as the gardens are filled with tables and people are pouring in and out of the place. We turn on to Great Western Road, find the spa, which is closed now and will return tomorrow. We continue our stroll back to the hostel back through the park and up a slow winding path passed as new soccer pitch and back to the hostel. We are amazed that it is 930 already and it is still faintly light outside. We read a bit and head off to dreamland.
Breakfast was well peopled as we were looking at our fellow passengers. It is 8AM and we make our way to the car and watch as the ferry arrives and they begin the loading process. This is the second stop as this ferry came from Barra. People are on all decks watching the loading process. It is slowed as the crew has to move a bus to allow for the campers getting on. We will get on, but larger campers and vehicles behind us go on first and we are last since we are a small car and can fit. When we make it upstairs we find people all over the place, sleeping and spread out in most of the couches. We head to the tables in the dining area and find a table with electricity. This will be needed for the five hour passage as I will be writing. Heather wanders the ferry, finds a quite place with luxurious airplane chairs and sleeps for awhile. The captain announces basking sharks on the starboard side and the ship seems to list to the starboard. Nothing sighted by the passengers. About an hour from port he announces the kitchen is serving lunch and the tables fill with passengers and their meals. We have to remember those people who got on before us have been onboard for two hours more than us.
Oban is a beautiful old city perfectly located in a very protected harbor. It is a sailor's delight as the yacht club is filled with fine looking vessels and the expanse of sea in which to sail is massive. As we disembark we have to wind our way through the city to exit and to get on the road to Glasgow. The town is charming as we pass the railroad station and drive along the quaint streets as we egress Oban. Hills greet us as we exit and than after we clear the crest it is downhill for a while as the road snakes into the countryside.
The drive to Glasgow is about two hours and is smooth as most of the traffic is going in the other direction. It is a three day holiday since Monday is a bank holiday. UK has bank holidays and we in the USA have federal holidays. We run into some traffic on the M8 in Glasgow as traffic has built going to Stirling and Edinburgh. We get off the M8 and Charing X and follow directions to the hostel. Problem it is the wrong hostel. We get directions to our hostel and we arrive to find they have a room for us tonight. We settle in and get directions to some good local food restaurants which are walking distance through Kalvingrove Park, University of Glasgow to Byres Road. Byres Road is a busy street of shops, restaurants and a subway stop. Lots of taxis wait at the subway stop.
We are looking for a specific restaurant and can't find it. We go into a shop to inquire and we are directed to an alley across the street to find ?????. They are booked, sowe make a reservation for tomorrow evening at 5PM since it is the only one available other than 945. We inquire about another eatery and she tells us about Ubiquitous Chip across the street in Ashon Lane. She calls and makes a reservation for us. We go across into the pub and up some stairs to an open air restaurant that was converted from horse stables to this fine eatery in 1971. We discover the name comes fro the habit of Scottish people having chips with every meal. The owner decided to open a restaurant of fine dining made from local products and serve no chips.
I order an ale made especially for the restaurant and Heather has a cranberry juice. The menu is impressive and we are debating about what to eat. The soup we are told is a pumpkin and parmessan soup. We order that to share. Heather orders a Calander Chanterele pan fried with Ayrshire Streaky bacon and tarragon served on a brioche starter and a Seil Island Partan Crab Salad. I order the haggis to start and a Dumfriesshire Lamb. The entire meal is fabulous and not rushed. We comment on how lucky we have been in finding the better restaurants in which to eat. The food has been superb, except that one misstep. For dessert Heather has the blueberry and vanilla pannacotta an dI have the poached pear with gingerbread ice cream.
As we leave the restaurant via the back door we discover a whole new world hidden fro the made road. It is filled with bars and restaurants. It is the nigh scene. We stroll though and head to a spa that our waitress told us about. It is on a perpendicular street to the one we are on and will take us back to the hostel. When we get to the corner after passing more fine restaurants, we find a church converted into a theater dinner club. It is the center of activity as the gardens are filled with tables and people are pouring in and out of the place. We turn on to Great Western Road, find the spa, which is closed now and will return tomorrow. We continue our stroll back to the hostel back through the park and up a slow winding path passed as new soccer pitch and back to the hostel. We are amazed that it is 930 already and it is still faintly light outside. We read a bit and head off to dreamland.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
On Uist
The day is bright as we wake for breakfast at half eight. Mary has made some great porridge. We see the tour buses filled with children for school are going north and then heading south empty fro our breakfast table window. The soft breeze keeps the midges away as we head south from Benbecula to South Uist. We decide to head to Lochboisdale a day early and then perhaps to go standby on the 5 hour ferry boat ride to Oban so we can get to Glasgow at a more peaceful pace, enjoy a day in Glasgow, instead of rushing after the five hour ferry that lands us in Oban at about 7PM Saturday night. If we don't make the standby ferry at 9AM Friday, then we stay at the hotel a second night and use our 1 PM ferry reservations the next day.
Since we are so filled with time we explore the byways. Our first stop was a beach discovered at the end of a rutted filled dirt road. We passed through a wheat field to get to the beach that was peaceful. Our next stop is the hostel at Howmore. This is where Heather met June and Laurie two years ago. t was fro here that she caught a bus to Lohmaddy to meet me in Uig. We stop and see it is pretty empty, but the midges are out. We continue this road to another beach that is empty and fllled with birds. We are watching a slowly approaching rain cloud and decided we should leave.
Refreshed we made our way back to the main road and stopped in at the Kildonan Museum that was filled with information about how life was for the islanders. It is a fascinating account and well detailed. In fact there are galleries of photographs from the 1920's that are magical. While we were in the museum the rain cloud we spied from the beach passed over. While the rain is slowing, we head to the cafe for some coffee and carrot cake. Our final stop is the craft shop and the rain has stopped and we continue our journey. The sun comes out in all its glory. I love how it rains slightly and lightly followed by sun and warmth. So very refreshing and why the gardens here are so lush. Mary did tell us that last Friday' wind and rain did some damage to her garden, which she found unfortunate.
Our next stop is a golf course that was opened in 1891. The drive to it is far more enjoyable than the club which has a modern structure like a trailer as the clubhouse and the course is not viewable. We had back to the main road and on to Lochboisdale.
When we arrive at our destination, we find the hotel on the bluff overlooking the harbor and the ferry pier. Very convenient. We get a room for the night and then go to the ferry terminal to inquire about standby for the next morning ferry. We discover that we will be first standby, if we put our car in the standby queue now. Since we are done with the car, we have a room, and we wish to rest, we put the car in the standby lane in the first position and retire to the hotel.
The day is the nicest one we have had. After settling into our room with a fantastic view of the harbor, we head downstairs to use the Internet and have lunch. After lunch we retire to the outside benches and bake in the sun while reading and imbibing the local spirits. It is a great way to end a perfect holiday in the outer islands. We spend the afternoon here as we watch the guests arrive at the hotel who will be on the ferry tomorrow.
Some bikers come in and we strike up a brief conversation at the bar. He and his wife have spent the last three weeks on bikes on Skye, Lewis&Harris, and Uist. They have stayed in many of the hostels we have stayed i and have pretty much followed the same path we have. We are speaking about the mountains on Harris a& Lewis and he tells me how he dreaded them. The last time he was here was 30 years ago and he was on the wrong bike then. This time, he has a better bike with better gears and found those climbs easier than he thought. He also recommended doing the trip south to north to follow the winds. It was the way I would do it, not because of the winds, but because the flat roads of Uist would be better preparation for the mountains of Harris & Lewis. On the other hand, we liked how we did this trip with the business of Skye followed by the slowness of Harris & Lewis and the final stop in Uist which is dead slow. Starting in Uist and heading to Skye just seems wrong.
Even though we are as happy as turtles on a log in a pond on a sunny day, we decide we should have dinner. It is after 7PM and we are shocked. We find a table by the window and are able to watch the sunset as we have a very good dinner. For hotel food, this is very good. It rivals Uig. Heather has a smoked salmon salad and local scallops while I have haggis and local mussels. We have eaten well, except for that one bad horrid meal at that very forgettable hotel, the Flodigarry Country House. We settle into the very comfortable lounge for coffee before bed. This is our kind of hotel, like the Uig Hotel. When we get to our room, the moon is full, reflecting off the harbor and filling our room with light. This magical and so fiting to end our journey of the isles.
Since we are so filled with time we explore the byways. Our first stop was a beach discovered at the end of a rutted filled dirt road. We passed through a wheat field to get to the beach that was peaceful. Our next stop is the hostel at Howmore. This is where Heather met June and Laurie two years ago. t was fro here that she caught a bus to Lohmaddy to meet me in Uig. We stop and see it is pretty empty, but the midges are out. We continue this road to another beach that is empty and fllled with birds. We are watching a slowly approaching rain cloud and decided we should leave.
Refreshed we made our way back to the main road and stopped in at the Kildonan Museum that was filled with information about how life was for the islanders. It is a fascinating account and well detailed. In fact there are galleries of photographs from the 1920's that are magical. While we were in the museum the rain cloud we spied from the beach passed over. While the rain is slowing, we head to the cafe for some coffee and carrot cake. Our final stop is the craft shop and the rain has stopped and we continue our journey. The sun comes out in all its glory. I love how it rains slightly and lightly followed by sun and warmth. So very refreshing and why the gardens here are so lush. Mary did tell us that last Friday' wind and rain did some damage to her garden, which she found unfortunate.
Our next stop is a golf course that was opened in 1891. The drive to it is far more enjoyable than the club which has a modern structure like a trailer as the clubhouse and the course is not viewable. We had back to the main road and on to Lochboisdale.
When we arrive at our destination, we find the hotel on the bluff overlooking the harbor and the ferry pier. Very convenient. We get a room for the night and then go to the ferry terminal to inquire about standby for the next morning ferry. We discover that we will be first standby, if we put our car in the standby queue now. Since we are done with the car, we have a room, and we wish to rest, we put the car in the standby lane in the first position and retire to the hotel.
The day is the nicest one we have had. After settling into our room with a fantastic view of the harbor, we head downstairs to use the Internet and have lunch. After lunch we retire to the outside benches and bake in the sun while reading and imbibing the local spirits. It is a great way to end a perfect holiday in the outer islands. We spend the afternoon here as we watch the guests arrive at the hotel who will be on the ferry tomorrow.
Some bikers come in and we strike up a brief conversation at the bar. He and his wife have spent the last three weeks on bikes on Skye, Lewis&Harris, and Uist. They have stayed in many of the hostels we have stayed i and have pretty much followed the same path we have. We are speaking about the mountains on Harris a& Lewis and he tells me how he dreaded them. The last time he was here was 30 years ago and he was on the wrong bike then. This time, he has a better bike with better gears and found those climbs easier than he thought. He also recommended doing the trip south to north to follow the winds. It was the way I would do it, not because of the winds, but because the flat roads of Uist would be better preparation for the mountains of Harris & Lewis. On the other hand, we liked how we did this trip with the business of Skye followed by the slowness of Harris & Lewis and the final stop in Uist which is dead slow. Starting in Uist and heading to Skye just seems wrong.
Even though we are as happy as turtles on a log in a pond on a sunny day, we decide we should have dinner. It is after 7PM and we are shocked. We find a table by the window and are able to watch the sunset as we have a very good dinner. For hotel food, this is very good. It rivals Uig. Heather has a smoked salmon salad and local scallops while I have haggis and local mussels. We have eaten well, except for that one bad horrid meal at that very forgettable hotel, the Flodigarry Country House. We settle into the very comfortable lounge for coffee before bed. This is our kind of hotel, like the Uig Hotel. When we get to our room, the moon is full, reflecting off the harbor and filling our room with light. This magical and so fiting to end our journey of the isles.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
From Harris to Uist
Everyone left early this morning to catch the ferry to Uig. Our ferry isn't till half eleven at the Leverburgh pier, about 45 minutes from here. It was on a previously unexplored part of Harris. We were the only guests for breakfast. The morning was very still and warm, perfect for those dreaded midges that were out in force as we discovered when we went to the car. After quickly packing we set on our way with two and a half hours to get to the ferry. I turned on the fans in the car and we opened the windows a crack to force those midges that got in out. Mission accomplished in minutes as we drove past Tarbert, up the steep hill to Harris Tweed country.
We took our time and took a couple of side roads to do some exploring. The road was a mix of two lane and single lane with passing places. I as amazed at the quality of cars coming at us and passing us. The cars were occupied by men. Curious I thought till we came upon a lovely golf course crowded with early morning players. Around another turn we discovered a magnificent camp grounds crowded with caravans and very sturdy tents. The land here is sandy and lush with grass which explains the golf and the campgrounds. All of this hugs a very calm cove and bay with sheep acting like bathers as they are sleeping on the beach and some are standing in the water. Quite surreal after the harsh rocky terrain of Harris just a half hour behind us. Is this the same island?
The road meanders along beautifully as we see palatial houses with well heeled cars in the driveway. Eventually we arrive in Leverburgh and find it is a rather large community that appears to be a retirement village as indicated by much of the signage and numerous wheelchair ramps on many of the attached buildings. Since we have time instead of turning right to the pier we go straight to Roghadal (Rodel) at the end of the island. As we pass through the pristine streets of Leverburgh and cross the cattle grid keeping the livestock out of town, we are greeted immediately by a sheep dropping covered road and sheep all over the road and on each side. It is a sheep gauntlet as we come to a stop and proceed very very slowly as the sheep reluctant give way. Some just stand and stare at us and then move.
Once through this mass of sheep, we continue up a steep hill and over the top to discover a view of the sea and a magnificent church, the Church of St Clements. There is a road around the entire church that rests on top of a hill and we find the parking places at the end of this circle. Upon entering the cemetery, I discover it is filled with MacLeods. Inside there are crypts and plaques to the MacLeods. This is the resting place of many of my ancestors. After moments of reverence we head off to the Leverburgh pier.
Upon arriving we find only the pier. There is no ticket office, just a rest room and an electronic board announcing times of the ferries. A queue has begun and we join it. The restaurant and pub is closed and opens daily at noon and closes at 11pm. It is the local eatery/pub methinks. Opposite the restaurant is a bus converted into a food court. When we entered the bus we find five stools at counters and the cook at the rear preparing breakfasts. It is quite the setup. We get some coffee and retire to the car to enjoy the sun, no midges, our coffee and some of the treats we have. We see the ferry off in the distance and watch as it weaves through the buoys that are set up like a slalom course.
We are all interested in how the ferry will land since there is no pier to speak of. What we see is a ramp into the water much like those you find at any boat launch. The ferry approaches and the door begins to open as an WWII beach assault vehicle opens to reveal the car deck. The ramp rests on the cement that has brass runners and the ferry gently rams the ramp as the engines continue so the cars may disembark and then we embark. All of this happens smoothy. I wonder what it is like on rough days like the one last Friday. The first ones off the boat are golfers walking to waiting vans that will ferry them to the course for a day of golf and back again later tonight, I suspect. This is probably what that man did who we met on Skye who was riding the bicycle to fetch his car in Uig. We have a good seat with a table so I can write and Heather can read for the short one hour ride to Berneray.
When we leave the ferry we go right and everyone else has gone left toward North Uist. We are heading to the beaches at Borve. Winding along a very flat road that could have been straight eventually finds us at a parking place. The car in front of us turns around and leaves. The one behind us parks and the occupants head off over the hill in full hiker gear away from the beach. We head toward the dunes through a field filled with cows. As we get closer to the massive dunes we find some more cars and the remnants of fires from campers or beach combers. It reminds me greatly of my days at Dionis on Nantucket, but these dunes are taller like Provincetown. One very noticeable difference is the whiteness and cleanliness of he sand. I am wearing my flip flops which I take of and the sand is luscious. I'm also wearing shorts, a tees shirt and light sweater to cut the mild chill. The sun is shining brightly as we begin our long walk down this pristine tropics type beach that is empty with the exception of a family using wetsuits to swim and couples way way down at the end of this three mile stretch. The water is bearable as I do wade in and find it comfortable after a bit. The wetsuit has to make the experience more bearable. We spend a couple of hours on this beach.
We return to our car and begin our journey south to Uist across the causeway built in 1999. Before we continue we stop at the tearoom we spied earlier for a snack. It is a cute little store for locals and a cute little dining room of six tables. We are alone and order some toasties and I have a beer. Suddenly the tables fill and a group of 16-20 people come in and take up two tables. The place is filled, who would have thought. We are lucky as our food has arrived as the rest of the people will be here for long time as this is a small operation, one cook and one waitress.
Once we cross the causeway we are in North Uist which is separated from South Uist by Benbecula. All three islands are joined by causeways. The land is flat and the only mountains I see are to the left or the east coast of the islands. The road is on the west coast of the islands hugging the coast with access to the beaches that stretch practically the entire west coast. The other feature is how flat these roads are and perfect biking roads. The road is single lane with passing places with the occasional double lane road pops up and cars in a rush use this time to pass cars and make time. I'm in no rush and pull over often at passing places so cars can overtake us. We are constantly stopping to take in an ancient site illustrated by a plaque of explanation of how the Vikings used this resort area to set up their little fiefdoms of power for individual lords. It makes sense as all of the little islands in these bays are sandy shored and would allow for easy access to any ship, be it a Viking ship or a modern rowboat.
As we are thinking about dinner and staying some place we happen upon the Hebridean Smokehouse. We get some peat smoked scallops and salmon pate. Next to the shop we go in and learn about peat and peat smoking while watching the process of preparing the salmon for smoking. It is quite the elaborate operation. We stop at a hotel and find it unacceptable and move on. After passing the causeway to Benbecula we pass the military base and airport. As we move from this military complex we happen upon another hotel next to a massive community center complex with running tracks, a pool, a couple of soccer fields and a large windmill. All this with Beach access. This hotel, too, is unacceptable, plus there is a bus parked in the lot. We are in Lionacliet. Undaunted we continue and see a B&B sign without the No vacancies notice.
We pull into a lovely yard beautifully manicured with fabulous flowers. The entire property is surrounded by sturdy hedges. We are greeted by the lady of the house who looks and speaks just like my grandmother. Mary has a lovely cozy room for us with a view of the gardens and the dunes. We are alone. We get our goodies for dinner. We still have crackers, cheese, and salmon; to which we have added the salmon pate and smoked scallops. Heather has some apple juice and I a beer. A feast.
Heather wants to read so I drive back up to the hotel to use the beach access. The beach is okay, not as beautiful as the other beaches we have seen. The reason is probably overuse by the community center and hotel. As I leave the beach for the public pub at the hotel for a pint, I am suddenly assaulted by the ancients who must be on the tour bus. They are making their way to the beach for the sunset or for a walk on the beach. When I enter the pub, am just in time for the start of the Hotspur Young Boys Champion League match in London. Crouch scores a brilliant header and Dafoe scores a questionable hand ball assisted goal. I leave at half. I learn the next day that Crouch had a hat trick in the 4 nil win by the 'spurs. When I return to the B&B, I summon Heather outside so we can watch the fabulous sunset. When we settle in for the night we discover a full moon outside our window.
We took our time and took a couple of side roads to do some exploring. The road was a mix of two lane and single lane with passing places. I as amazed at the quality of cars coming at us and passing us. The cars were occupied by men. Curious I thought till we came upon a lovely golf course crowded with early morning players. Around another turn we discovered a magnificent camp grounds crowded with caravans and very sturdy tents. The land here is sandy and lush with grass which explains the golf and the campgrounds. All of this hugs a very calm cove and bay with sheep acting like bathers as they are sleeping on the beach and some are standing in the water. Quite surreal after the harsh rocky terrain of Harris just a half hour behind us. Is this the same island?
The road meanders along beautifully as we see palatial houses with well heeled cars in the driveway. Eventually we arrive in Leverburgh and find it is a rather large community that appears to be a retirement village as indicated by much of the signage and numerous wheelchair ramps on many of the attached buildings. Since we have time instead of turning right to the pier we go straight to Roghadal (Rodel) at the end of the island. As we pass through the pristine streets of Leverburgh and cross the cattle grid keeping the livestock out of town, we are greeted immediately by a sheep dropping covered road and sheep all over the road and on each side. It is a sheep gauntlet as we come to a stop and proceed very very slowly as the sheep reluctant give way. Some just stand and stare at us and then move.
Once through this mass of sheep, we continue up a steep hill and over the top to discover a view of the sea and a magnificent church, the Church of St Clements. There is a road around the entire church that rests on top of a hill and we find the parking places at the end of this circle. Upon entering the cemetery, I discover it is filled with MacLeods. Inside there are crypts and plaques to the MacLeods. This is the resting place of many of my ancestors. After moments of reverence we head off to the Leverburgh pier.
Upon arriving we find only the pier. There is no ticket office, just a rest room and an electronic board announcing times of the ferries. A queue has begun and we join it. The restaurant and pub is closed and opens daily at noon and closes at 11pm. It is the local eatery/pub methinks. Opposite the restaurant is a bus converted into a food court. When we entered the bus we find five stools at counters and the cook at the rear preparing breakfasts. It is quite the setup. We get some coffee and retire to the car to enjoy the sun, no midges, our coffee and some of the treats we have. We see the ferry off in the distance and watch as it weaves through the buoys that are set up like a slalom course.
We are all interested in how the ferry will land since there is no pier to speak of. What we see is a ramp into the water much like those you find at any boat launch. The ferry approaches and the door begins to open as an WWII beach assault vehicle opens to reveal the car deck. The ramp rests on the cement that has brass runners and the ferry gently rams the ramp as the engines continue so the cars may disembark and then we embark. All of this happens smoothy. I wonder what it is like on rough days like the one last Friday. The first ones off the boat are golfers walking to waiting vans that will ferry them to the course for a day of golf and back again later tonight, I suspect. This is probably what that man did who we met on Skye who was riding the bicycle to fetch his car in Uig. We have a good seat with a table so I can write and Heather can read for the short one hour ride to Berneray.
When we leave the ferry we go right and everyone else has gone left toward North Uist. We are heading to the beaches at Borve. Winding along a very flat road that could have been straight eventually finds us at a parking place. The car in front of us turns around and leaves. The one behind us parks and the occupants head off over the hill in full hiker gear away from the beach. We head toward the dunes through a field filled with cows. As we get closer to the massive dunes we find some more cars and the remnants of fires from campers or beach combers. It reminds me greatly of my days at Dionis on Nantucket, but these dunes are taller like Provincetown. One very noticeable difference is the whiteness and cleanliness of he sand. I am wearing my flip flops which I take of and the sand is luscious. I'm also wearing shorts, a tees shirt and light sweater to cut the mild chill. The sun is shining brightly as we begin our long walk down this pristine tropics type beach that is empty with the exception of a family using wetsuits to swim and couples way way down at the end of this three mile stretch. The water is bearable as I do wade in and find it comfortable after a bit. The wetsuit has to make the experience more bearable. We spend a couple of hours on this beach.
We return to our car and begin our journey south to Uist across the causeway built in 1999. Before we continue we stop at the tearoom we spied earlier for a snack. It is a cute little store for locals and a cute little dining room of six tables. We are alone and order some toasties and I have a beer. Suddenly the tables fill and a group of 16-20 people come in and take up two tables. The place is filled, who would have thought. We are lucky as our food has arrived as the rest of the people will be here for long time as this is a small operation, one cook and one waitress.
Once we cross the causeway we are in North Uist which is separated from South Uist by Benbecula. All three islands are joined by causeways. The land is flat and the only mountains I see are to the left or the east coast of the islands. The road is on the west coast of the islands hugging the coast with access to the beaches that stretch practically the entire west coast. The other feature is how flat these roads are and perfect biking roads. The road is single lane with passing places with the occasional double lane road pops up and cars in a rush use this time to pass cars and make time. I'm in no rush and pull over often at passing places so cars can overtake us. We are constantly stopping to take in an ancient site illustrated by a plaque of explanation of how the Vikings used this resort area to set up their little fiefdoms of power for individual lords. It makes sense as all of the little islands in these bays are sandy shored and would allow for easy access to any ship, be it a Viking ship or a modern rowboat.
As we are thinking about dinner and staying some place we happen upon the Hebridean Smokehouse. We get some peat smoked scallops and salmon pate. Next to the shop we go in and learn about peat and peat smoking while watching the process of preparing the salmon for smoking. It is quite the elaborate operation. We stop at a hotel and find it unacceptable and move on. After passing the causeway to Benbecula we pass the military base and airport. As we move from this military complex we happen upon another hotel next to a massive community center complex with running tracks, a pool, a couple of soccer fields and a large windmill. All this with Beach access. This hotel, too, is unacceptable, plus there is a bus parked in the lot. We are in Lionacliet. Undaunted we continue and see a B&B sign without the No vacancies notice.
We pull into a lovely yard beautifully manicured with fabulous flowers. The entire property is surrounded by sturdy hedges. We are greeted by the lady of the house who looks and speaks just like my grandmother. Mary has a lovely cozy room for us with a view of the gardens and the dunes. We are alone. We get our goodies for dinner. We still have crackers, cheese, and salmon; to which we have added the salmon pate and smoked scallops. Heather has some apple juice and I a beer. A feast.
Heather wants to read so I drive back up to the hotel to use the beach access. The beach is okay, not as beautiful as the other beaches we have seen. The reason is probably overuse by the community center and hotel. As I leave the beach for the public pub at the hotel for a pint, I am suddenly assaulted by the ancients who must be on the tour bus. They are making their way to the beach for the sunset or for a walk on the beach. When I enter the pub, am just in time for the start of the Hotspur Young Boys Champion League match in London. Crouch scores a brilliant header and Dafoe scores a questionable hand ball assisted goal. I leave at half. I learn the next day that Crouch had a hat trick in the 4 nil win by the 'spurs. When I return to the B&B, I summon Heather outside so we can watch the fabulous sunset. When we settle in for the night we discover a full moon outside our window.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Standing Stones
We woke to the quite of a harbor. The lapping of harbor waves o the stone beach, the playing and laughing gulls, and the occasional baa of the sheep on the hillside opposite the harbor. This is certainly an idyllic location for any dwelling. That it is a B&B means Mrs Morrison can share her little piece of heaven with the world.
As usual there was a heavy mist or light rain outside. We could see a fisherman readying his boat as we ate our breakfast and overlooked the harbor from our picture window seat. After breakfast we had planned on heading back to the second set of Calendish Stones and visiting the Iron Age House, which we had visited last time in Lewis.
The ride over the same roads and hills allow for automatic driving and we are to enjoy the sights a bit more as we know we can go slower and stop to view something that catches our eye. The signs peppering the moors alert fishermen to "watch your fishing line" because the electric lines go over the trout stream. This amuses us and seems threatening at the same time. Why are the lines here over this pristine stream instead of miles away. How many fisherman have caught a fly on a line?
The markers for the Land Struggle dot the landscape. We decide to head to the Iron Age House first. The long and winding road is a classic Island road with passing places. This road passes a school and museum in the middle of nowhere before converting into the narrowest road we have been on yet. In meanders through bogs and over steep grades and down steep grades and over streams and around sharp corners. Tour buses use this road. What a horror that must be.
Eventually we arrive at the Iron Age House parking lot which has avery clean and maintained bathrooms, picnic tables, and a cemetery. The path to the House leads to a beautiful sand beach and dunes. As we walk along the beach and a side of the cemetery we are directed to the Iron Age house which takes us along the third side of the cemetery along a narrow bluff above the beach and a mountain stream that courses through the Iron Age Village which we can see. There are stone oval configurations indicating where a structure once was and a replication of what they believe a Iron Age House might have looked like. We learn that the archaeologists have covered over about half of the find for later work. The house is oval shaped. It has a stone wall around it. A path circles the house that has a stone base that extends about a foot above the ground and then a wood and thatched roof appears and is held down by rocks and wood.
We see vent holes along the base of the thatch and a chimney is spewing smoke to one side of the house. We walk around to the entrance that has a small wall by the opening to provide protection from the elements and steps leading into the house. There is just one entrance. When we enter we have to duck as the entrance is about five feet tall. Upon entering the main room, there is a fire in the center of this room and the smoke lazily wafts up to the roof opening. It is not very efficient and the room has some smoke.
I'm sure they original dwellers had a better configuration. Maybe even an alter for the fire to get it closer to the roof and to provide drafts underneath. Anyway, it is something I would have considered. Above the entrance is a loft covered in hay that probably served for sleeping. A ladder leads up to the loft. There is a lady speaking and as our eyes adjust to the dark, we see more people in the room and an open doorway to another room. Steps lead down into a smaller room that has candles in scallop shells to light the room. Here we see a workroom with shelves built into the wall. The signage outside indicated this may have been a storeroom for cooking.
Last time we were here, there was no fire and no candles. This is better. As we exit, we see the mountain stream winding its way down the side of the gentle hill next to the house and out to the sea. The residents had an idyllic life with this lovely beach and access to seafood on one side of their house and on the hillside their cattle and sheep could graze. This is one heck of a piece of prime property for our Iron Age brethren.
We are now ready to make our way back down the single lane road to the single lane bridge where we will stop for lunch. As we are leaving a garbage truck has come in to collect the trash. It is huge. We escape now so we don't have to follow it. Eventually it catches us and passes us as we have stopped at a shop to see if we can get coffee.
I get a cider for lunch and we move on to the bridge. As I turn the corner that leads to the bridge, what do we find parked in the picnic bench area by the bridge but the garbage scow. There is enough room for us and they are in the truck eating their lunch and listening to the local island radio station which is playing classic Scottish music. The scow does not smell and the music is pleasant. We set up our lunch of crackers, salmon, salami, and cheese. I have my cider and Heather her water. It is a fabulous lunch as we are overlooking a loch and mountains in the background, listening to great ambient music and enjoying the brilliant sun. After they finish their lunches, take a walk along the bridge to smoke a fag, they are off on their appointed duties.
I spy some standing stones on he opposite side of the road and see steps leading through a gate up the hill. I explore and discover the grandest stand of standing stones overlooking the harbor. Almost configured like a family. Two grand stones side by side with a tiny wee stone in front of theme and then a larger small stone, like a teenager, furthest from the parent stones. All of these stones placed in a boggy place as water surrounds the stones. In fact when I walk around and step on a bog spot, water rises from the places around the bog spot. They are like little islands.
I rejoin Heather and we slowly clean up and prepare to continue our journey now satiated. When we eventually rejoin the main road we have passed a place where someone has been cutting the bog chips from the bog and piling the chips to dry and eventually cart to a house for fuel during the winter. We see these bog piles along the road as we drive with pallets of drying chips or neatly piled chips in a tipi shape to dry. Sometimes we see piles of plastic bags holding the chips.
On the main road we go left and head to the Standing Stones which come up very quickly, about a mile down the road. Yesterday it was raining when we had visited the large group of stones we see on the hill in the distance. The parking lot is filled and has two buses. We are glad we went yesterday.
Today the sun is out and Calendish III which is a fairly large collection of stones is emptying of five people as we approach. Lots of water here too and since cows and sheep share this area, the way is further hindered by manure pies. The cows have added the pie obstacles as well as making large holes from their stomping around. The stones are glorious and impressive. We have a better view of the three circles of stones called Calendish I, II, III. I is the largest, III is next in size and II is the smallest.
I realize the family of stones I found at the bridge are just over the ridge and perhaps would be Calendish IV. Anyway we are impressed and awed by these Standing Stones. We reflect on how we have continued this process with our own standing stones in our cemeteries and even building of worship, business, and residence. Stone has always had a fascination to us.
Our journey back to Tarbert is uneventful as we pass many bikers on this glorious day to bike ride. When we arrive in Tarbert we go to the three harris Tweed shops so Heather can shop. The weather is glorious now as the sun is out in all its glory and I am back in shorts and a tee shirt. We stop at the Inn's pub for dinner and then head home to relax by the harbor. Because the sun sets so late we suddenly realize it is half seven already which explains why we are feeling tired. We do some computing and watch some telly before turning in for the night.
As usual there was a heavy mist or light rain outside. We could see a fisherman readying his boat as we ate our breakfast and overlooked the harbor from our picture window seat. After breakfast we had planned on heading back to the second set of Calendish Stones and visiting the Iron Age House, which we had visited last time in Lewis.
The ride over the same roads and hills allow for automatic driving and we are to enjoy the sights a bit more as we know we can go slower and stop to view something that catches our eye. The signs peppering the moors alert fishermen to "watch your fishing line" because the electric lines go over the trout stream. This amuses us and seems threatening at the same time. Why are the lines here over this pristine stream instead of miles away. How many fisherman have caught a fly on a line?
The markers for the Land Struggle dot the landscape. We decide to head to the Iron Age House first. The long and winding road is a classic Island road with passing places. This road passes a school and museum in the middle of nowhere before converting into the narrowest road we have been on yet. In meanders through bogs and over steep grades and down steep grades and over streams and around sharp corners. Tour buses use this road. What a horror that must be.
Eventually we arrive at the Iron Age House parking lot which has avery clean and maintained bathrooms, picnic tables, and a cemetery. The path to the House leads to a beautiful sand beach and dunes. As we walk along the beach and a side of the cemetery we are directed to the Iron Age house which takes us along the third side of the cemetery along a narrow bluff above the beach and a mountain stream that courses through the Iron Age Village which we can see. There are stone oval configurations indicating where a structure once was and a replication of what they believe a Iron Age House might have looked like. We learn that the archaeologists have covered over about half of the find for later work. The house is oval shaped. It has a stone wall around it. A path circles the house that has a stone base that extends about a foot above the ground and then a wood and thatched roof appears and is held down by rocks and wood.
We see vent holes along the base of the thatch and a chimney is spewing smoke to one side of the house. We walk around to the entrance that has a small wall by the opening to provide protection from the elements and steps leading into the house. There is just one entrance. When we enter we have to duck as the entrance is about five feet tall. Upon entering the main room, there is a fire in the center of this room and the smoke lazily wafts up to the roof opening. It is not very efficient and the room has some smoke.
I'm sure they original dwellers had a better configuration. Maybe even an alter for the fire to get it closer to the roof and to provide drafts underneath. Anyway, it is something I would have considered. Above the entrance is a loft covered in hay that probably served for sleeping. A ladder leads up to the loft. There is a lady speaking and as our eyes adjust to the dark, we see more people in the room and an open doorway to another room. Steps lead down into a smaller room that has candles in scallop shells to light the room. Here we see a workroom with shelves built into the wall. The signage outside indicated this may have been a storeroom for cooking.
Last time we were here, there was no fire and no candles. This is better. As we exit, we see the mountain stream winding its way down the side of the gentle hill next to the house and out to the sea. The residents had an idyllic life with this lovely beach and access to seafood on one side of their house and on the hillside their cattle and sheep could graze. This is one heck of a piece of prime property for our Iron Age brethren.
We are now ready to make our way back down the single lane road to the single lane bridge where we will stop for lunch. As we are leaving a garbage truck has come in to collect the trash. It is huge. We escape now so we don't have to follow it. Eventually it catches us and passes us as we have stopped at a shop to see if we can get coffee.
I get a cider for lunch and we move on to the bridge. As I turn the corner that leads to the bridge, what do we find parked in the picnic bench area by the bridge but the garbage scow. There is enough room for us and they are in the truck eating their lunch and listening to the local island radio station which is playing classic Scottish music. The scow does not smell and the music is pleasant. We set up our lunch of crackers, salmon, salami, and cheese. I have my cider and Heather her water. It is a fabulous lunch as we are overlooking a loch and mountains in the background, listening to great ambient music and enjoying the brilliant sun. After they finish their lunches, take a walk along the bridge to smoke a fag, they are off on their appointed duties.
I spy some standing stones on he opposite side of the road and see steps leading through a gate up the hill. I explore and discover the grandest stand of standing stones overlooking the harbor. Almost configured like a family. Two grand stones side by side with a tiny wee stone in front of theme and then a larger small stone, like a teenager, furthest from the parent stones. All of these stones placed in a boggy place as water surrounds the stones. In fact when I walk around and step on a bog spot, water rises from the places around the bog spot. They are like little islands.
I rejoin Heather and we slowly clean up and prepare to continue our journey now satiated. When we eventually rejoin the main road we have passed a place where someone has been cutting the bog chips from the bog and piling the chips to dry and eventually cart to a house for fuel during the winter. We see these bog piles along the road as we drive with pallets of drying chips or neatly piled chips in a tipi shape to dry. Sometimes we see piles of plastic bags holding the chips.
On the main road we go left and head to the Standing Stones which come up very quickly, about a mile down the road. Yesterday it was raining when we had visited the large group of stones we see on the hill in the distance. The parking lot is filled and has two buses. We are glad we went yesterday.
Today the sun is out and Calendish III which is a fairly large collection of stones is emptying of five people as we approach. Lots of water here too and since cows and sheep share this area, the way is further hindered by manure pies. The cows have added the pie obstacles as well as making large holes from their stomping around. The stones are glorious and impressive. We have a better view of the three circles of stones called Calendish I, II, III. I is the largest, III is next in size and II is the smallest.
I realize the family of stones I found at the bridge are just over the ridge and perhaps would be Calendish IV. Anyway we are impressed and awed by these Standing Stones. We reflect on how we have continued this process with our own standing stones in our cemeteries and even building of worship, business, and residence. Stone has always had a fascination to us.
Our journey back to Tarbert is uneventful as we pass many bikers on this glorious day to bike ride. When we arrive in Tarbert we go to the three harris Tweed shops so Heather can shop. The weather is glorious now as the sun is out in all its glory and I am back in shorts and a tee shirt. We stop at the Inn's pub for dinner and then head home to relax by the harbor. Because the sun sets so late we suddenly realize it is half seven already which explains why we are feeling tired. We do some computing and watch some telly before turning in for the night.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Over to Harris-Lewis
We rose at 4AM. We finished packing, had some coffee and tea and a quick breakfast of a banana and Nature Valley Honey&Oats bars. Basically a meal I have every morning before I take a bike ride. We were out of the hotel by 435 and arrived at the ferry terminal by 445. A line was already started and the place was a beehive of activity. We had to check in by 5 and they began loading the ferry then. We left at 530. We rested on the one and a half hour trip in very comfortable chairs. Very much like first class airline seats. Lots of legroom and nearly a full recline.
When we arrived in Harris, we were off the ferry at 707 and we went into town to avoid the traffic heading north. Nothing was open in Harris, but I was able to ask the bus driver how long the drive from here to Leverburgh, the place from which we were taking a ferry on Wednesday to Uist. It was only a 45 minute drive.
We left Harris heading for Port Ness at the top of Lewis. Because we had spent time on the west coast and had not seen the east coast we headed to Stornoway, the largest town on Lewis. We passed a trio of windmills and were able to drive to the base of them. They weren't in operation at the time. We arrived as school was starting. All of the tourist buses were now school buses. In addition, we were in the middle of rush hour.
Driving around and sightseeing as we were going against the traffic, we were having fun. We decided to leave after going by the school slowly filing up wit children. This looked like a fine town, but it was the business center of the island and not why were here. As we headed towards Barvas, the road out of town the traffic coming into town was huge and quite unbelievable. We stopped to chat to some children and their mothers about the windmills we had seen and to be sure we were on the right road to Ness. We learned they were practice for a farm of windmills that were going to be five times bigger. Very impressive. Driving across the island over this bog was relaxing after our adventure in the city of Stornoay.
When we arrived at Barvas we headed north. We arrived at our first standing stone. Further along the road we could see the sandy beaches and bogs on both sides of the road. When we arrived in Port Ness we headed to the harbor and the beach. We walked around the harbor which was well protected from the fierce North Sea that beat against the walls of the harbor. We went to the far side of the harbor and took a walk along the adjoining beach. The beaches here are fabulous and if the weather were warmer, this would be a resort. Finding the restaurant we were hoping to have coffee was closed for the season.
We headed off to the Butt, the very top of Lewis which has a lighthouse built by members of the Stevenson family, he same family that sired Robert Louis Stevenson. Following a single lane road to the lighthouse we passed another sandy beach. At the lighthouse we walked around and the wind dictated our path. This is the windiest place in Scotland and the winds were up to 80mph on Friday.
As we were leaving a farmer and his dog were shepherding a flock of sheep. He was walking with his hands behind him and he was whistling commands to the dog who was running all around the sheep and keeping them together and on the right path to where they were going. We stopped and turned off the car as we watched them work. Fascinating. Finally they were penned and off we were to find the Eoropie Tearoom.
At the tearoom we had some coffee and local bakery. In addition we purchased some tweed place mats and coasters. On our way up here we looked at a hotel and farm house guesthouse for a possible place to stay. Discovering that our tour was going quickly and was complete especially because the roads were clear and the sights were tourist free, we had the whole place to ourselves.
We had decided we would go back into Tarbert, where we had landed, and find a room there for two nights. We were going to stay in the rustic hostel where we stayed two years ago, but the weather made this an uncomfortable idea. We drove down the road to Tarbert and took all the turnoffs to explore. We discovered some interesting things that are not on the maps.
When we arrived at the rustic hostel in the Gearranan Blackhouse Village we strolled into the hostel and decided not to stay. It was empty, dark, and musty. We walked in a light drizzle to the beach where we exchanged rings. When we were assaulted by the midges, we knew we weren't going to stay. We went to the gift shop and found a poster of the Village and a mug.
We stopped at the Harris Tweed Factory on our way back to the main road. As we continued, we discovered the single lane part of the road had now been expanded into two way traffic. We stopped at the restaurant we had our meals when we were last here for a quick repast. As the rain got heavier we arrived at the Callandish stones. We took the road to the stones and discovered the field empty of people, so we went to enjoy this plot of standing stones on our own. We had enough and were tired, so we decided to start here tomorrow.
When we arrived back in Tarbert, we went to the information station to find a room. We were directed to the Avalon Guesthouse, which we had passed twice, once when we left and twice when we returned to Tarbert. After settling in, we went into town to find dinner at the restaurant associated with the Tarbert Hotel. When we returned to the room, we did our Internet work for our blog. We went to bed early since we had been up since 4 AM.
When we arrived in Harris, we were off the ferry at 707 and we went into town to avoid the traffic heading north. Nothing was open in Harris, but I was able to ask the bus driver how long the drive from here to Leverburgh, the place from which we were taking a ferry on Wednesday to Uist. It was only a 45 minute drive.
We left Harris heading for Port Ness at the top of Lewis. Because we had spent time on the west coast and had not seen the east coast we headed to Stornoway, the largest town on Lewis. We passed a trio of windmills and were able to drive to the base of them. They weren't in operation at the time. We arrived as school was starting. All of the tourist buses were now school buses. In addition, we were in the middle of rush hour.
Driving around and sightseeing as we were going against the traffic, we were having fun. We decided to leave after going by the school slowly filing up wit children. This looked like a fine town, but it was the business center of the island and not why were here. As we headed towards Barvas, the road out of town the traffic coming into town was huge and quite unbelievable. We stopped to chat to some children and their mothers about the windmills we had seen and to be sure we were on the right road to Ness. We learned they were practice for a farm of windmills that were going to be five times bigger. Very impressive. Driving across the island over this bog was relaxing after our adventure in the city of Stornoay.
When we arrived at Barvas we headed north. We arrived at our first standing stone. Further along the road we could see the sandy beaches and bogs on both sides of the road. When we arrived in Port Ness we headed to the harbor and the beach. We walked around the harbor which was well protected from the fierce North Sea that beat against the walls of the harbor. We went to the far side of the harbor and took a walk along the adjoining beach. The beaches here are fabulous and if the weather were warmer, this would be a resort. Finding the restaurant we were hoping to have coffee was closed for the season.
We headed off to the Butt, the very top of Lewis which has a lighthouse built by members of the Stevenson family, he same family that sired Robert Louis Stevenson. Following a single lane road to the lighthouse we passed another sandy beach. At the lighthouse we walked around and the wind dictated our path. This is the windiest place in Scotland and the winds were up to 80mph on Friday.
As we were leaving a farmer and his dog were shepherding a flock of sheep. He was walking with his hands behind him and he was whistling commands to the dog who was running all around the sheep and keeping them together and on the right path to where they were going. We stopped and turned off the car as we watched them work. Fascinating. Finally they were penned and off we were to find the Eoropie Tearoom.
At the tearoom we had some coffee and local bakery. In addition we purchased some tweed place mats and coasters. On our way up here we looked at a hotel and farm house guesthouse for a possible place to stay. Discovering that our tour was going quickly and was complete especially because the roads were clear and the sights were tourist free, we had the whole place to ourselves.
We had decided we would go back into Tarbert, where we had landed, and find a room there for two nights. We were going to stay in the rustic hostel where we stayed two years ago, but the weather made this an uncomfortable idea. We drove down the road to Tarbert and took all the turnoffs to explore. We discovered some interesting things that are not on the maps.
When we arrived at the rustic hostel in the Gearranan Blackhouse Village we strolled into the hostel and decided not to stay. It was empty, dark, and musty. We walked in a light drizzle to the beach where we exchanged rings. When we were assaulted by the midges, we knew we weren't going to stay. We went to the gift shop and found a poster of the Village and a mug.
We stopped at the Harris Tweed Factory on our way back to the main road. As we continued, we discovered the single lane part of the road had now been expanded into two way traffic. We stopped at the restaurant we had our meals when we were last here for a quick repast. As the rain got heavier we arrived at the Callandish stones. We took the road to the stones and discovered the field empty of people, so we went to enjoy this plot of standing stones on our own. We had enough and were tired, so we decided to start here tomorrow.
When we arrived back in Tarbert, we went to the information station to find a room. We were directed to the Avalon Guesthouse, which we had passed twice, once when we left and twice when we returned to Tarbert. After settling in, we went into town to find dinner at the restaurant associated with the Tarbert Hotel. When we returned to the room, we did our Internet work for our blog. We went to bed early since we had been up since 4 AM.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
We Love Uig
We woke to rain and after breakfast decided to head off to the Waternish Peninsula. That little bay area has unique crafts, good food, and is a cool area. Taking our time we were able to appreciate the landscape. I'm always amazed by the windmill farm on this stretch of road.The windmills are so beautiful and provide a steady din and whoosh whoosh that is not sound polluting, but reassuring that the energy is pure. I'm always amazed at the fight against them. It makes little sense to me, since the alternatives are so much more deadly and harmful. Drill baby drill is the current mantra in spite of the bad effects and dangerous conditions those rigs represent. It is about the money, I suppose.
At any rate we were ambling along this lovely back road of Skye to The Waternish Peninsula. At the turn we were on another single track road with passing place niches strategically placed to allow an approaching car to pass. It is an interesting exercise in driving etiquette, these single track roads. Who will pull over? How does one react when both drivers indicate to the other to come forward by blinking one's lights? The simple wave of a hand to indicate a thanks is the customary method of gratitude. On the road I have found the use of emergency lights has been used when I have pulled over to allow an overtaking car to pass me as I slow and use my left blinker to indicate for him to pass. As that car whizzes by either the emergency lights flash or the left blinker then the right blinker is displayed to indicate appreciation for my getting out of the way. I also like to stop and get pictures, so the passing places become very handy. There is a steady drizzle and cars are zooming by as I move over. Wonder where everyone is going?
There are some great craft stores to visit down this road, a tannery, a potter, and a wool and dye shop. The first and he last are famous and considered must see. We are instead heading to the Loch Bay restaurant for an oyster and soup lunch. The road to the left is clear as all the cars are going right in the direction of the crafts. descending from atop the glen to the shore we pass lovely renovated crafts and a mansion or two. Arriving at the shore a long row of building is on the left while the bay is on the right. It is the classic Scottish fishing town, the archetype. We drive to the end of the lane only to discover the Loch Bay is closed, gone fishing. We discover that it is only open Tuesday to Friday. So we park and go to the Stein Inn. We have been here before and are not disappointed. I had langoustines here before. The pub has a low ceiling with open beams. We discover they serve oysters so we order a dozen and are in heaven. I have some ale I haven't had before and we follow the oysters up with a fabulous soup.
Satiated, we set off to the crafts. Our first stop is a tannery, a working tannery, SkyeSkyns. When we step into the workroom a guide immediately appears. All of the work is done in this one workspace, which isn't very big. The process begins by washing 50 hides at a time in the large washer. It is probably the largest machine in the shop. This process can take a whole day. Next they are taken into the drying room. After that the process is laborious. A single skin may take a week to process and be made ready for the upstairs showroom. If you think the tannery tour is fabulous and it is, then wait till you get to the showroom. The variety of finished skins is awesome. What they do to these pelts for our consumption is amazing and very reasonably priced. I don't believe anyone leaves the showroom without something. Heather purchased a lovely Fergie Band. This is a definite place to visit and we are glad we did.
Two of the guides were talking about how they had seen four rams on the way in. Rarely do you see rams roaming the fields. The ewes and lambs have the run of the land while the rams are restricted to the pens except in November which is topping time. Then they are busy.
We left the tannery heading to the potter who was recommended and the dye house. As we were driving the road we came upon three generations of women walking a dog on a leash who was approached by a single woman coming from the other direction being dragged by her dog who as anxious to play with his friend.
We came upon the potter and found his shop and work delightful. We purchased a pair of coffee and hot chocolate mugs here. Our last stop was the dye shop. It was not what we expected and the shop was peopled with women buying patterns and wool. There was a nice display of what vegetation is used for which dye, but I had hoped to see the process of the dying of wool.
We left and headed back to Uig. On our way out, we passed those same women in the same configuration but they were walking in opposite direction. We wondered if this is what they did al day for entertainment. It entertained us.
After the tannery and cutoff to the Stein Inn we suddenly came upon the four rams. You know they are rams because they are bigger, twice as big as the ewes and lambs. Their horns wrap in circles three times while the ewes only once, and of course when they walk away, they are rams, not ewes. Rare to see the rams in the fields and not in pens where they are usually lying down and just resting. Here they were grazing and moving along.
While driving back to Uig, the sun comes out and we decide to go to the Fairy Glen. It is empty and still showing signs of the rain as the streams of water are flowing down the little rivers to the pond. We ascend the glen and explore the little towers and spaces. The Fairy Glen is like a massive rotten tooth along a well formed hill. The reason for this unusual formation is that granite was placed on top of basalt stone many millions of years ago. Over time, the heavier harder stone crushed the softer lighter stone below to create this magical glen. We see this kind of formation throughout the region, but not like it is here. There are superb spottings of the granite on top of the basalt. Visitors create words and pictures with the small stone in the clearing. One can only imagine how the ancients and not so ancients have used this ground for worship and for partying.
We head back to the Uig Hotel to prepare for dinner at the Flodigarry Country House. It will be a long drive around the tip of Skye so we leave an hour and half before our reservation. The drive is fine with little traffic, so we make good time on this single lane road. When we arrive at the House, a man on a bicycle is in front of us as he leads us to the hotel. He parks by the Bistro/pub and we park in the car park.
We make our way to the bistro. The bicyclist has ordered a pint and we order our drinks. We engage in conversation and discover he started riding from Portree two and half hours ago and was stopping here for a pint. He was on his way to Uig to pick up his car. He and friends had taken the ferry to and from Lewis, the day before. They played golf and since they had had too much to drink on the ferry ride back, they took a taxi back to Portree. He had decided to bike. He was not a biker. The bistro is a fine olde pub style with a good food menu. We sat outside for a bit since the weather was in our favor. Another couple came in with their child. The child was having dinner and the parents some drinks. The father ate more of the food than did his son. We walked to the main part of the hotel and sat in the siting room. It was early 1940's decor.
As we walked around and saw the guests we felt we had been dropped onto an old Agatha Christie set. In the bar were the bicycle rider and some locals, who looked as if they just came in from the farm. While waiting for dinner their was a young, couldn't keep their hands off each other, Italian couple. He dashing with the flamboyant ascot and she the doting one. As I went upstairs to look around and find the rest room an elderly German couple was descending the stairs. She could have used an elevator. As dinner began and the guests arrived, we were the only English speakers. An elderly couple almost formally dressed entered before us.
Once we were seated two French couples in their 60's wearing stylish jeans came in. The middle aged couple with the child, entered sans child, whew. Instead they had a baby monitor, he placed on the table next to him. The table we had asked for when we made our reservations three days ago was left unattended and we had been told a couple who was staying there requested it for 730. Guests have preference. The waitress was in a kilt and traditional Scottish accoutrements.
The menu wasn't fabulous. Heather stayed with the sea as she ordered scallops to start and langoustines. I go with a trio of pates, venison, pork, and duck followed by a lamb dish. She asked me if I wanted the lamb pink and I told her yes. Heather's food was okay, not great. Mine was horrid. The plates were so so, but the lamb was tough, overdone and accompanied by the motliest group of vegetables. Needless to say the meal at the Flodigarry Country House was most disappointing. When we left at 815, the table we had requested was still empty. A most unfortunate evening. We drove back to the Uig Hotel for dessert and coffee to wash the bad taste of the Flodigarry Country House drek from our taste buds. We went upstairs and packed and prepared for our 4AM rising to catch the 530 ferry to Lewis and Harris.
The Uig Hotel is a fabulous hotel with great food. Though we didn't eat dinner this trip we have before and the Haggis is the best. When I spoke the chef about her Haggis, she didn't have it right now because her supplier was out of some key ingredients, so I couldn't have had it if I wanted it. Her breakfasts are superb. I love her porridge and scrambled eggs with salmon. Her Scottish breakfast is excellent, too. The bar at the Uig is so much fun. Sometimes they have local musicians, but since we were so late this year, most of them had left the area for college.
School has begun here so we were between the summer and fall, which explains the age of the fellow travelers and lack of children. The rooms in the Uig are spacious with a TV and Internet. We were very comfortable as we were able to enjoy the comfort during the bad weather and a hot bath when we returned from it. We highly recommend the Uig Hotel as a place to stay and use as a base for exploring Skye.
This trip was designed to enjoy the foods of Skye. The Three Chimneys is very very good. The food is the best and local. The service is excellent and we are not rushed. It is a restaurant we will return to. The Glenview was a great find and an up and coming stellar restaurant. We had excellent food and great service. We will return to it again. The Stein Inn is a great lunch venue and one we will always return to when we visit Dunvegan or the sites in the Waternish area. We hope to eat at the Loch Bay one day. We will never revisit the Flodigarry Country House again as the meal there wasn't worth it. We will of course always stay at the Uig Hotel for so many reasons.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Fixing a Tire
We started the day late. Had a fine breakfast and lounge around for a bit. Luckily for not too long. We set off to Portree to repair the tire. When we arrived at the first place to repair it, the shop was closed. We went to the second station and the lone man there was inundated with tire repairs. In addition he got a call to fetch a broken down car in the middle of one of the few intersections in Portree. Our tire wouldn't be ready for at least an hour and a half.
We went into Portree for coffee and a scone at another place we wanted to try. It was a quiet Saturday morning in Portree as we saw more bikers walking around and taking a break from the arduous task of pedaling up and down these rolling Scottish hills in the wind and occasional rain. We filled the car with gas and the tire was just about ready, ahead of schedule. Rather than have him replace the tires as he wanted to get out of there and he still had a long line, I told him I would change the tires, now that I had it figured out. That saved me some money, so I was rewarded.
When we returned to the hotel, I changed the tire and went in for a bath and we spent the day at the hotel napping and reading. It is very nice having these kinds of rest days because we will be very busy in the next week as we will be in hostels and traveling the outer islands. These days in Uig were designed for good food and rest.
We were lucky to find the Scottish national bagpipe contest held in Glasgow on TV. It was glorious and the band that has been in existence for one hundred years and has never won this competition won. The music and pipers was grand and some of the stories about these bands, how they prepare, and where they are from is absolutely fascinating. A little known contest to us, but not to others quite obviously.
We left for our dinner at The Glenview very early. We took the road over the Quiraing. We were the solitary travelers on a road that is usually well peopled with cars of hikers, sightseers, and locals. The only living beings were the sheep, lots and lots of sheep. When we arrived at the parking place for the hikers, only three cars were there. The other day this was a traffic jam with no parking places and cars using the passing lanes. We made our way down the switchback with ease as we were the only car. It was fun and the sheep looked at us as if they knew we were crazy Americans enjoying these empty roads. We stopped at a couple more of the traditional tourist stops which were empty. At one spot I heard lovely pipes and discovered that the pipes that were the railings had holes drilled in them so that when the wind blew as it was, the result was a lovely deep bass. Just before we arrived at the restaurant, I spied a farmer in the field with his lily white sheep around him. We stopped to admire his flock and the beautiful image this picture of bliss provided. The sheep followed him around, whereas they would scatter when we approached.
The parking lot at the Glenview was pretty full when we arrived a few minutes early for dinner. We got a lovely table by the window. The porch room we were in filled up quickly and then the other room slowly filled. The people were locals and those staying in the inn. We ordered a dozen oysters. When they arrived we were amazed at how large they were. Served only with a lemon we dove in. They were fabulous. Meaty, briny, and so pure. Considering the source, the eastern coast of Skye, the pure unpolluted waters. These were perhaps the best oysters we have had. After a long pause we were given a kitchen treat of watercress soup with macadamia nuts. I had a pork belly starter and Heather had hand dived scallops. We both had the mullet for main course surrounded by local potatoes, summer squash, and mushrooms. A delightfully light course of excellently charred fish. Heather had a chocolate tart with chocolate chip ice cream while I had a berry and vanilla bean parfait. Another excellent meal in an up and coming restaurant that is reasonably priced.
Our drive home was peaceful as the sky was clear and the eyes of the sheep guided our way back over the Quiraing to Uig. About halfway across we passed some cyclists. The remoteness of the place was peaceful. Be fore bed we watched some comedy show hosted by one of our favorites Jimmie Carr, who is not related to Alan Carr, another very funny man.
We went into Portree for coffee and a scone at another place we wanted to try. It was a quiet Saturday morning in Portree as we saw more bikers walking around and taking a break from the arduous task of pedaling up and down these rolling Scottish hills in the wind and occasional rain. We filled the car with gas and the tire was just about ready, ahead of schedule. Rather than have him replace the tires as he wanted to get out of there and he still had a long line, I told him I would change the tires, now that I had it figured out. That saved me some money, so I was rewarded.
When we returned to the hotel, I changed the tire and went in for a bath and we spent the day at the hotel napping and reading. It is very nice having these kinds of rest days because we will be very busy in the next week as we will be in hostels and traveling the outer islands. These days in Uig were designed for good food and rest.
We were lucky to find the Scottish national bagpipe contest held in Glasgow on TV. It was glorious and the band that has been in existence for one hundred years and has never won this competition won. The music and pipers was grand and some of the stories about these bands, how they prepare, and where they are from is absolutely fascinating. A little known contest to us, but not to others quite obviously.
We left for our dinner at The Glenview very early. We took the road over the Quiraing. We were the solitary travelers on a road that is usually well peopled with cars of hikers, sightseers, and locals. The only living beings were the sheep, lots and lots of sheep. When we arrived at the parking place for the hikers, only three cars were there. The other day this was a traffic jam with no parking places and cars using the passing lanes. We made our way down the switchback with ease as we were the only car. It was fun and the sheep looked at us as if they knew we were crazy Americans enjoying these empty roads. We stopped at a couple more of the traditional tourist stops which were empty. At one spot I heard lovely pipes and discovered that the pipes that were the railings had holes drilled in them so that when the wind blew as it was, the result was a lovely deep bass. Just before we arrived at the restaurant, I spied a farmer in the field with his lily white sheep around him. We stopped to admire his flock and the beautiful image this picture of bliss provided. The sheep followed him around, whereas they would scatter when we approached.
The parking lot at the Glenview was pretty full when we arrived a few minutes early for dinner. We got a lovely table by the window. The porch room we were in filled up quickly and then the other room slowly filled. The people were locals and those staying in the inn. We ordered a dozen oysters. When they arrived we were amazed at how large they were. Served only with a lemon we dove in. They were fabulous. Meaty, briny, and so pure. Considering the source, the eastern coast of Skye, the pure unpolluted waters. These were perhaps the best oysters we have had. After a long pause we were given a kitchen treat of watercress soup with macadamia nuts. I had a pork belly starter and Heather had hand dived scallops. We both had the mullet for main course surrounded by local potatoes, summer squash, and mushrooms. A delightfully light course of excellently charred fish. Heather had a chocolate tart with chocolate chip ice cream while I had a berry and vanilla bean parfait. Another excellent meal in an up and coming restaurant that is reasonably priced.
Our drive home was peaceful as the sky was clear and the eyes of the sheep guided our way back over the Quiraing to Uig. About halfway across we passed some cyclists. The remoteness of the place was peaceful. Be fore bed we watched some comedy show hosted by one of our favorites Jimmie Carr, who is not related to Alan Carr, another very funny man.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Our Anniversary
We both went to sleep about 8PM last night. We were exhausted, Heather from her all night flight, me from the all night train ride, and the both of us from the drive. I woke at about midnight and went into the kitchen to have some smoked salmon and cheese on crackers with a Belhaven, while I read a funny account of an expose of an expose of a royal reporter and his questionable methods of reporting. I retired at 1AM and we slept through to 9AM.
Heather needed the sleep as did I. I was very active in London, so this was my first sustained sleep. Today is our anniversary. After packing up and getting ready to go from the hostel, the heavy wind, gale force winds was now joined by slanting rain. Not a day to bike or enjoy the great outdoors, so we decided to head to Portree and look in at the shops.
The rain was spotty. In Portree we stopped to have some coffee and scones while it rained. Three soaked bikers came in for a respite. During a lull in the rain we strolled the town. While in a knit shop, the heavens emptied their water resources and the crowds in the streets hurried into shops. Such a deluge. When it stopped the sun appeared and we made our way to the car and headed up the east coast towards Uig via Flodigarry, because we wished to find the Country House there to make dinner reservations for Sunday evening.
Every where we go we see the tartan floor covering. On the ride up the rain subsided, but the gale force winds persisted. It kept the crowds away from the fabulous sight seeing spots along the road. The parking lots were empty as we were able to truly enjoy these majestic vistas unencumbered and littered with other tourists. As we walked up the bluffs the winds gusted and blew us away from the bluffs. When I spread my arms like wings, my sweatshirt filled and I thought I was going to fly. Watching the birds flying into the wind was educational. Barely did their wings move as they found ways to float against the wind and make it to where ever they were going. The grasses, the heather, the bushes, the trees all withstood the winds and seemed the better for it. It made me realize that we didn't see much deadwood on these trees.
We explored many byways off the main road and found many dead ends as we meandered through fields of sheep and cows. Having some difficulty locating the Country House, I stopped at a couple of B&B's to get directions. In both cases, I was informed it was just up the road. Just up the road has different meanings for locals and tourists. The two way trafficked road became a single lane road with the occasional passing lane stop.
This was the long way around the tip back to Uig. One of our favorite museums is on this road that depicts the life on Skye. Eventually we found the Country House that was off to the right and down a long and winding drive way that was shrouded in tall pines. When we cleared the trees we discovered a fabulously manicured lawn surrounded by stone walls and a vista of the open sea to die for. The Country House was a castle. We found the reception desk and made reservations for Sunday dinner and took a quick tour of the premises. Certainly a place to consider on another visit. We are now set for three great dinners and set off to the Uig hotel, our place of residence for the next three nights.
Driving these one lane roads can be both soothing and hair raising, depending upon your mood. Are you in a rush? Trouble. If you are just out for a calm ride, no problem. More on that later.
We were in no rush for the moment. When we finally arrived at the Uig Hotel, we settled in for a quick nap before our dinner at the The Chimneys. This celebrated restaurant had been chosen for our anniversary dinner. Heather bathed and I showered and we set off in the gale winds and spotty rains. As we left the hotel, we looked down to the bay as a ferry was coming in and the waves were spilling and splashing over the pier, the very pier those disembarking had to drive or walk. Unable to stay and watch, we headed off to dinner. The ride was longer than we had thought and I had to start to rush. Then we hit one of those dreaded one lane roads. Because we were heading into traffic returning from the famous lighthouse at the end of this road, we were slowed down, but not enough so as to find myself a bit too far to the left when I hit a massive pothole and flattened the left front tire. Luckily we were just around the corner from the restaurant and hobbled into a parking place and into the restaurant with 3 minutes to spare for our coveted reservations.
Dinner was great. Heather had a beet salad composed of the most delightful local ingredients and I had a haggis as starters. She had a bleu cheese truffle cheesecake and I the salmon and squid for entree. We each had a hot marmalade and brown bread dessert with coffee. Our dinner was not rushed and we had a delightful two and a half hours of pure bliss as we watched the weather outside.
Because we are so far north, it was still light outside, so the odious task of changing the tire was not as bad as I thought it might be. I found all the tools and spare to begin the process. The tire was a real tire and that was good. I got the special lug off, but for the life of me couldn't figure out how to remove the other three lugs. They seemed to have a plastic covering. I referenced the manual only to find that I needed a straight screw driver to remove them and all they provided me with was a philips head. This is why I always carry a Swiss Army knife and because of flying regulations, I was now without the knife, drat!!! Luckily a young couple came along and helped us. He, too, had never seen such a thing, but had a straight screwdriver in his boot and he proceeded to assist me in changing the tire. As a team we made a great pit crew and were done in no time.
As we set out the rains came down and required that I have the wipers on full. The ride back to Uig was uneventful and when we arrived the rains had stopped and the sky was clear and the stars were shining down on us. It was a perfect anniversary as everything fell into place as the day was a microcosm of life.
Heather needed the sleep as did I. I was very active in London, so this was my first sustained sleep. Today is our anniversary. After packing up and getting ready to go from the hostel, the heavy wind, gale force winds was now joined by slanting rain. Not a day to bike or enjoy the great outdoors, so we decided to head to Portree and look in at the shops.
The rain was spotty. In Portree we stopped to have some coffee and scones while it rained. Three soaked bikers came in for a respite. During a lull in the rain we strolled the town. While in a knit shop, the heavens emptied their water resources and the crowds in the streets hurried into shops. Such a deluge. When it stopped the sun appeared and we made our way to the car and headed up the east coast towards Uig via Flodigarry, because we wished to find the Country House there to make dinner reservations for Sunday evening.
Every where we go we see the tartan floor covering. On the ride up the rain subsided, but the gale force winds persisted. It kept the crowds away from the fabulous sight seeing spots along the road. The parking lots were empty as we were able to truly enjoy these majestic vistas unencumbered and littered with other tourists. As we walked up the bluffs the winds gusted and blew us away from the bluffs. When I spread my arms like wings, my sweatshirt filled and I thought I was going to fly. Watching the birds flying into the wind was educational. Barely did their wings move as they found ways to float against the wind and make it to where ever they were going. The grasses, the heather, the bushes, the trees all withstood the winds and seemed the better for it. It made me realize that we didn't see much deadwood on these trees.
We explored many byways off the main road and found many dead ends as we meandered through fields of sheep and cows. Having some difficulty locating the Country House, I stopped at a couple of B&B's to get directions. In both cases, I was informed it was just up the road. Just up the road has different meanings for locals and tourists. The two way trafficked road became a single lane road with the occasional passing lane stop.
This was the long way around the tip back to Uig. One of our favorite museums is on this road that depicts the life on Skye. Eventually we found the Country House that was off to the right and down a long and winding drive way that was shrouded in tall pines. When we cleared the trees we discovered a fabulously manicured lawn surrounded by stone walls and a vista of the open sea to die for. The Country House was a castle. We found the reception desk and made reservations for Sunday dinner and took a quick tour of the premises. Certainly a place to consider on another visit. We are now set for three great dinners and set off to the Uig hotel, our place of residence for the next three nights.
Driving these one lane roads can be both soothing and hair raising, depending upon your mood. Are you in a rush? Trouble. If you are just out for a calm ride, no problem. More on that later.
We were in no rush for the moment. When we finally arrived at the Uig Hotel, we settled in for a quick nap before our dinner at the The Chimneys. This celebrated restaurant had been chosen for our anniversary dinner. Heather bathed and I showered and we set off in the gale winds and spotty rains. As we left the hotel, we looked down to the bay as a ferry was coming in and the waves were spilling and splashing over the pier, the very pier those disembarking had to drive or walk. Unable to stay and watch, we headed off to dinner. The ride was longer than we had thought and I had to start to rush. Then we hit one of those dreaded one lane roads. Because we were heading into traffic returning from the famous lighthouse at the end of this road, we were slowed down, but not enough so as to find myself a bit too far to the left when I hit a massive pothole and flattened the left front tire. Luckily we were just around the corner from the restaurant and hobbled into a parking place and into the restaurant with 3 minutes to spare for our coveted reservations.
Dinner was great. Heather had a beet salad composed of the most delightful local ingredients and I had a haggis as starters. She had a bleu cheese truffle cheesecake and I the salmon and squid for entree. We each had a hot marmalade and brown bread dessert with coffee. Our dinner was not rushed and we had a delightful two and a half hours of pure bliss as we watched the weather outside.
Because we are so far north, it was still light outside, so the odious task of changing the tire was not as bad as I thought it might be. I found all the tools and spare to begin the process. The tire was a real tire and that was good. I got the special lug off, but for the life of me couldn't figure out how to remove the other three lugs. They seemed to have a plastic covering. I referenced the manual only to find that I needed a straight screw driver to remove them and all they provided me with was a philips head. This is why I always carry a Swiss Army knife and because of flying regulations, I was now without the knife, drat!!! Luckily a young couple came along and helped us. He, too, had never seen such a thing, but had a straight screwdriver in his boot and he proceeded to assist me in changing the tire. As a team we made a great pit crew and were done in no time.
As we set out the rains came down and required that I have the wipers on full. The ride back to Uig was uneventful and when we arrived the rains had stopped and the sky was clear and the stars were shining down on us. It was a perfect anniversary as everything fell into place as the day was a microcosm of life.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Off to Scotland
I had an early dinner of pork pies at the Black Prince Pub and then with bags in tow, made my way to the Globe. There was some confusion about the bags, but not a problem in the end. The evening was beautiful for a play in The Globe.
The not oft played Henry VIII is an extravagant play of pomp and politics revolving around Henry's first two wives and ends with the birth of Elizabeth. The star of the show is Katherine, the first wife of Henry, the betrothed to Arthur. The politics of Thomas Cromwell, Thomas More and the Cardinal was superb. Henry is a minor part actually. The staging was fun and the costume of course was period. The house was packed, as packed as it was for Merry Wives. The second half was better than the first with lavish costuming. The Porter and his assistant stole the show as they included the groundlings in their antics by handing them the broom and hat and then later asking for them back. Other interaction was also great fun.
The play ended about half ten and I hurried out with my retrieved bags to London Bridge for the Northern Line to Euston. I arrived at Euston at five minutes past eleven and the train was just boarding. The train was made up of two parts, one going to Glasgow which was mine and was at the far end of the platform and the other was going to Edinburgh, which was on the near end of the platform. The trains were joined by the two tails and would disconnect sometime I the middle of the night so the Edinburgh train could go its way and our train would continue on to Glasgow.
I had a lovely berth and the only time I woke was a couple of times when we stopped. I woke at about 6AM and stared out at the Scottish landscape in the soft rain. I probably went in and out of sleep as I sipped my tea and prepared myself for departure. I disembarked with the bikers. There were at least a dozen bikers who had stowed their bicycles and were now in their riding gear carrying their bags they would strap to their bikes and pedal off. Some were taking another train to the North while others were setting off from Glasgow.
I went and bought a ticket to Stratford and then found the bus to the airport to meet Heather. The bus was easy and fast. I arrived at the airport at 8AM and found that Heather's plane had arrived at 707AM. I went to arrivals and no one was there, so I went to get the car and Heather wasn't there either. I found the car and put my bags in and returned to the terminal to find Heather. There wasn't anyone at the Continental booth, so I couldn't get her paged. I returned to the arrivals and there she was.
Two things I didn't consider. The plane had arrived early which is the god news bad news bit. Good news we are early, bad news no where to park. They sat on the plane for awhile. Then another two planes landed and customs was long. Nonetheless, we were united and on our way to Uig. The drive out of Glasgow from the airport is so simple. A couple of roundabouts and onto the highway which is the main road to Highlands. The roads were particularly crowded with bicycles, trucks and campers.
The road turned into a very narrow single road that hugged the shore of a loch as we headed towards Fort William. On the way we stopped for an egg sandwich and coffee. Heather took a nap as I waded our way along in the traffic till we passed a juncture where the way split in three, one to Oban, another to Inverness, and the third to Skye.
I stopped just outside Fort William to pick up water and other stores for our journey. Heather woke just before we were to cross the Skye Bridge and we stopped at a lovely Inn for lunch. Heather had salmon and I had Haggis.
Satiated we crossed the bridge and felt the power of Skye fill our soul. We stopped to pick up fresh foods and local salmon and cheese for our snacks and light dinner tonight. When we got to Portree, we decided to take the left to find the Glenview Restaurant and make reservations for Saturday Night.
Once done, we set off to Uig over the top of the mountain, the quiraing, that divides the east coast from the west coast of northern sky. Passing the old Man of Storr, we found the bakery we had liked closed. Bittersweet. We had discovered a new restaurant, only to find this fun bakery closed. The road that the bakery was on, was the shortcut over the mountain to Uig. It is a narrow road with passing lanes at strategic places. We identified the places in Uig from on top the plateau, the fairy glen, the hotel, the hostel. While we sat there surveying our dominion, we heard a plaintive bleat and spied two of the tiniest and cutest sheep we have seen in the wild frolicking on a craggy hillside above us. Mom wasn't too far away as they navigated their way back to her and disappeared over the crest.
We followed the switchback down to the ferry terminal where we went into the Skye brewery. I picked up some Red Cuillin and discovered they had biking jerseys. I was hoping to find a biking jersey form Skye, and this was perfect. We arrived at the hostel at 5PM and checked into our room which had a double. We showered did some laundry and retired to the living room which was bathed in light from the sun and was like a greenhouse. Heather has fallen asleep in a comfy chair with a book in her lap. I'm imbibing a local ale, Belhaven, and some crackers as I pen this blog. The sun warming the room with light and heat. This is such a comfortable quiet room. It is good to be in this peace after NYC and London.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
From park to park
Today when I woke the sun was out in all its glory. It was a perfect touring and walk in the parks kind of day. After breakfast and doing some packing for my journey tonight I grabbed the number 3 bus today that wove me to Oxford Circus through Westminster, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly.
At Oxford Circus I transferred to a C2 took be through the back waters of Camden Town and Kentish where I caught a 46 to Hampstead Heath, one of my favorite haunts. While on the C2, I saw a tailor sewing in his shop. I had been looking for a tailor to mend my bag which was beginning to come undone and needed some immediate attention. I got off and he did a fabulous job and I was on the next C2 to Kentish where I caught that 46.
When I arrived in Hampstead Heath, near the hospital I strolled the streets and back alleys and direct myself to the Holly Bush Pub for lunch. This pub had been introduced to me on one of those London Walks. The place was relatively packed with older folks sitting around the pub drinking and eating snacks. Some women in front of me were getting sandwiches for a picnic on the Heath.
After ordering some soup and a cheese plate, I collected my half of Seafarers and found a seat with the ancients. To my far left was a very old Italian looking woman eating something and drinking a red wine. Next to her was a younger woman I suspected to be the daughter of the older couple at the same table. Across from me was an old man with a half in front of him and a plate of pork shavings. Next to him was a sturdy cane. Hidden from my view was another young woman with an older woman I supposed her mother. Oh was I wrong. I had just stepped into a lost scene of One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. The young woman with the elderly couple had just fetched some more cream for her coffee. She then asked the other young woman near me if she wanted some of the cream for her coffee. The old woman drinking the red wine was meticulous in her eating habits. A forkful, a swipe of the napkin along her lips and then a dainty sip of wine. She would rest a couple of minutes and repeat these steps again and again and again till everything was gone at the same time. She had this down to a fine art. At one point the young woman next to her asked her if she was enjoying her red wine, to which the woman replied in the affirmative and said nothing more. The older woman of the couple with the young woman, looked over at the old man in front of me spoke to him, "David are you okay?" His response was, "I'm missing you, darling." There was a chuckle from all and she said, "You decided to sit alone, today, David." He grumbled and took a sip of his drink. The younger woman in front of me was eating prawns and shared them with the woman who spoke to David who then went on about prawns and her love of them. The young women were speaking to each other across the room and I surmised that these two ladies were nurses and the older folks were their charges. David spent most my time there staring at me. After my soup and cheese plate I was getting ready to go. The young nurse near me asked David if he was okay since he was just sitting there quietly and staring intently into space, then at his empty glass, then at me. "No, I'm not okay, I'm mentally disturbed." He grabbed his cane and rested his chin on it as the others ignored him and had their own conversations. It was time for me to leave and make my way to the Heath.
I followed a very indirect set of roads and pathways till I found a path leading into the Heath. It was much drier and less crowded than the last time I was here on New Year's Day. I followed the paths that crossed the larger paths or carriage roads. I stayed on the more rustic trail that wove around trees and brambles until I came upon a huge field littered with benches randomly placed to view trees, the city, and nothing. Each bench was in memory of someone and perhaps was at a place they particularly like to sit. I stopped at many of these benches to get a feel for these people. It was peaceful. Others were there for the same reasons as I and sat in silence or walked in silence as dogs and children ran around carefree.
I could see the Stark Tower from here. It certainly does dominate the sight lines in London. It does let me know where I'm staying as it is very close to my B&B. Sort of the way the World Trade Towers were my beacon in NYC. I followed more hidden paths much as Alice and crossed a street to return to the paths and found myself near town where I walked to catch a 46 to Lancaster Gate on Hyde Park.
I had planned on getting the 360 at The Royal Albert Hall which is directly across the park from Lancaster Gate. The walk through the park was grand as I stayed on the grass to rest my feet and legs from the pavement walking. My legs have been a bit sore this trip, especially after that huge walk I took my first day. I'm sure they are thanking me for discovering the buses. I walked around Albert Hall where Van Morrison is playing on the eve of my birthday in October for one night. What a hoot that would be to come over to see him.
When I found the bus top a 360 came in and I was on my way. At a couple of stops a three generations of women got on and the youngest one, about 4 was screaming and didn't stop. She was shrill and she stopped al conversation on the bus. I got off at the next stop and could hear her ailing and screeching as the bus continued on its way. The next bus was quieter with a mother reading to her child. So much more civilized. When I arrived back at the B&B, I stole myself to the garden to write.
The bus rides were amazing and so easy. The bus system here is so efficient and comfortable. I was able to see things I hadn't seen during my earlier trips, because we were underground. It reminds me that I'm not in a rush and it allows me to see the character and culture of the city. In addition I was able to see some great architecture. No dachshund sightings today.
I'm off the see Henry VIII tonight and then catch the half eleven from Euston to Glasgow to meet up with Heather who will be arriving at about the same time I do in Glasgow.
At Oxford Circus I transferred to a C2 took be through the back waters of Camden Town and Kentish where I caught a 46 to Hampstead Heath, one of my favorite haunts. While on the C2, I saw a tailor sewing in his shop. I had been looking for a tailor to mend my bag which was beginning to come undone and needed some immediate attention. I got off and he did a fabulous job and I was on the next C2 to Kentish where I caught that 46.
When I arrived in Hampstead Heath, near the hospital I strolled the streets and back alleys and direct myself to the Holly Bush Pub for lunch. This pub had been introduced to me on one of those London Walks. The place was relatively packed with older folks sitting around the pub drinking and eating snacks. Some women in front of me were getting sandwiches for a picnic on the Heath.
After ordering some soup and a cheese plate, I collected my half of Seafarers and found a seat with the ancients. To my far left was a very old Italian looking woman eating something and drinking a red wine. Next to her was a younger woman I suspected to be the daughter of the older couple at the same table. Across from me was an old man with a half in front of him and a plate of pork shavings. Next to him was a sturdy cane. Hidden from my view was another young woman with an older woman I supposed her mother. Oh was I wrong. I had just stepped into a lost scene of One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest. The young woman with the elderly couple had just fetched some more cream for her coffee. She then asked the other young woman near me if she wanted some of the cream for her coffee. The old woman drinking the red wine was meticulous in her eating habits. A forkful, a swipe of the napkin along her lips and then a dainty sip of wine. She would rest a couple of minutes and repeat these steps again and again and again till everything was gone at the same time. She had this down to a fine art. At one point the young woman next to her asked her if she was enjoying her red wine, to which the woman replied in the affirmative and said nothing more. The older woman of the couple with the young woman, looked over at the old man in front of me spoke to him, "David are you okay?" His response was, "I'm missing you, darling." There was a chuckle from all and she said, "You decided to sit alone, today, David." He grumbled and took a sip of his drink. The younger woman in front of me was eating prawns and shared them with the woman who spoke to David who then went on about prawns and her love of them. The young women were speaking to each other across the room and I surmised that these two ladies were nurses and the older folks were their charges. David spent most my time there staring at me. After my soup and cheese plate I was getting ready to go. The young nurse near me asked David if he was okay since he was just sitting there quietly and staring intently into space, then at his empty glass, then at me. "No, I'm not okay, I'm mentally disturbed." He grabbed his cane and rested his chin on it as the others ignored him and had their own conversations. It was time for me to leave and make my way to the Heath.
I followed a very indirect set of roads and pathways till I found a path leading into the Heath. It was much drier and less crowded than the last time I was here on New Year's Day. I followed the paths that crossed the larger paths or carriage roads. I stayed on the more rustic trail that wove around trees and brambles until I came upon a huge field littered with benches randomly placed to view trees, the city, and nothing. Each bench was in memory of someone and perhaps was at a place they particularly like to sit. I stopped at many of these benches to get a feel for these people. It was peaceful. Others were there for the same reasons as I and sat in silence or walked in silence as dogs and children ran around carefree.
I could see the Stark Tower from here. It certainly does dominate the sight lines in London. It does let me know where I'm staying as it is very close to my B&B. Sort of the way the World Trade Towers were my beacon in NYC. I followed more hidden paths much as Alice and crossed a street to return to the paths and found myself near town where I walked to catch a 46 to Lancaster Gate on Hyde Park.
I had planned on getting the 360 at The Royal Albert Hall which is directly across the park from Lancaster Gate. The walk through the park was grand as I stayed on the grass to rest my feet and legs from the pavement walking. My legs have been a bit sore this trip, especially after that huge walk I took my first day. I'm sure they are thanking me for discovering the buses. I walked around Albert Hall where Van Morrison is playing on the eve of my birthday in October for one night. What a hoot that would be to come over to see him.
When I found the bus top a 360 came in and I was on my way. At a couple of stops a three generations of women got on and the youngest one, about 4 was screaming and didn't stop. She was shrill and she stopped al conversation on the bus. I got off at the next stop and could hear her ailing and screeching as the bus continued on its way. The next bus was quieter with a mother reading to her child. So much more civilized. When I arrived back at the B&B, I stole myself to the garden to write.
The bus rides were amazing and so easy. The bus system here is so efficient and comfortable. I was able to see things I hadn't seen during my earlier trips, because we were underground. It reminds me that I'm not in a rush and it allows me to see the character and culture of the city. In addition I was able to see some great architecture. No dachshund sightings today.
I'm off the see Henry VIII tonight and then catch the half eleven from Euston to Glasgow to meet up with Heather who will be arriving at about the same time I do in Glasgow.
Double Falsehood
I had one of those rare pleasures in life. I saw a new Shakespeare play tonight, Double Falsehood or The Distrest Lovers. The production was played at the Union Theater on Union Street in Southwark, about a three minute walk from The Globe.
The theater is under a trestle and we know that because we could hear, not feel, the trains pass by above. Not a distraction like the planes and other airborne machines above The Globe. The Union Theater is a black box that holds about 55 people. 30 in three rows of ten on the far side of the stage and five rows of five on the near side. To the right is backstage behind a curtain. The narrowness of the near audience is to allow the players two more ways of entering the stage area which is probably 20 feet by 15 feet, in addition to the one directly from the black curtain.
Tonight was the opening performance and it started on time, half seven. The performance was supported by the Arden Shakespeare, though I read the Theobold version from Google books. I had read the play twice in the past month, so as to become familiar with it. The performance was true to the text and in 18th Century costume. The cast was a mix of old hands on stage and newbies. One needed a program to know the difference. It was well played by all.
I was particularly struck by the interchange of the two fathers, Don Bernard and Camillo, in the First Act about Honor and Time. The use of Honor was visited by Falstaff the other night as a foil to Hector's magnificent account of Honor in Troilus and Cessida. Camillo's account is closer to Hector's. In addition we were treated by a monosyllabic and double syllabic use of the word Time from these two men. It reminded me of John Barton's discussion of how Time is used by Shakespeare and how is should be pronounced both ways depending upon the circumstance. The production added something, at least in my Theobold version. Since I haven't seen the Arden issue, I can't be sure it is an addition. Two gentlemen dressed as horses, appropriately enough, since The Duke is concerned with his younger son's sudden interest in horses, parade out between some scenes, an older man, perhaps, Time, as in Winter's Tale perhaps portending to be Shakespeare and a younger man a foil, a jack, a very nave. The older man would recite certain famous lines from other plays while the younger would finish them. He began with "All the world's a stage." The quoted lines were apt to the play we were watching. Now its purpose is unknown, except to provide some mild entertainment at particularly difficult times in the play to allow the players time to change from one costume to another. It was an entertaining interjection and did nothing to injure the performance, only to enhance it.
The costuming was well done, which begs the question why not the makeup. The players were plain, themselves. It was difficult to believe that Camillo was going to die soon as he railed because he was a large, healthy Rugby kind of man who wasn't dying too soon unless he was hit by a truck because he would destroy any car that hit him. Makeup would have helped the two fathers to help us, in spite of the concept of suspending disbelief. Couldn't be done just as it was hard to believe he was the father of a woman his own age. He was one of the strongest players on stage and delivered his lines smartly. I also found Henriquez, the younger son of the Duke to be a perfect cad and an evilly wayward boy.
The play has such obvious references to other Shakespeare works, like the opening to King Lear. The disguise and running to the woods as in As You Like It. The comedy in the woods like Midsummer Nights Dream. I felt honored to see such a fine performance by this little troupe and hope it all the success. I wonder why it is only playing for 4 nights.
The last time I was so blessed to see a premier performance of a new Shakespeare play was Two Noble Kinsman in Stratford in 1986. Bravo to the cast and to the director Barrie Addenbrooke who did admirably, kept it true, and had the pleasure of being the first to direct this new play since 1728. Bravissimo.
From Duncan Lynskey
I was also at the Double Falsehood premiere last night. The two men with the hobby horses were strictly speaking the characters Lopez and Fabian, but the production took their lines and mixed them up with random Shakespeare quotes and presented them as Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. This is a nod to the origins of the story behind Double Falsehood in the original Shakespeare/Fletcher play "Cardenio" which is taken from Cervantes' "Don Quixote".
You might not have realised but the editor of the Arden Edition, Brean Hammond was there that night in the centre of the front row facing the entrance door, as was the general editor of the Arden Shakespeare Richard Proudfoot, as well as the mayor of Southwark and the theatre director Janet Suzman!
Duncan Lynskey
He added this in a second communication and in response to my query about Double Falsehood being performed at the Swan when it reopens.
As for the Swan reopening, Greg Doran of the RSC has been working on reconstructing Cardenio by filling in scenes assumed to be missing from Double Falsehood. This has been done before, but he plans to work with a Spanish writer so that it will be in English and Spanish. The RSC has also workshopped this at the University of Michigan:
http://www.annarbor.com/entertainment/cardenio-story/
I spoke to someone from the University of Warwick who has been working on related matters with Greg Doran and he said that The Two Noble Kinsmen might also be part of the Swan reopening.
In fact, Brean Hammond's Double Falsehood is so hot off the press that he discusses the forthcoming RSC Cardenio on page 131 of the book. As you haven't got it with you in Scotland I'll include the relevant paragraph below:
"As I write this, I am learning from the Shakespearean scholar Jonathan Bate and Gregory Doran, Chief Associate Director of the Royal Shakespeare Company, about plans to workshop a reconstruction of Cardenio in association with the Almagro Festival. It is hoped that this will be an Anglo-Spanish collaboration and will be a mix of Cervantes, Shelton and Theobold under the
title of Cardenio... [footnote] 'It will be a mix of Theobald, Shelton and Cervantes, and will definitely include the Johnson songs (one of Michael Wood's best bits of work, that). It'll be worked up with Spanish as well as British actors, in an attempt to re-Spanishize the feel of Shelton and Theobald' (Gregory Doran, private communication, 23 July 2007)"
From Bernard Richards:
Saw your blog about Double Falsehood. I didn't see the production. My production of Cardenio was put on at Queens' College, Cambridge in March 2009. Unfortunately the production team did not get their act together on publicity, and it disappeared without trace. It was also staged at the Edinburgh Festival in 2009. It has six new scenes written by me. There is a photo from my production in Brean Hammond's Arden edition (miscaptioned alas). It was in 17th century dress, and sounds as if it was 'straighter' than the production you saw. There is an edition of my play. £5 including postage (apply to me e-mail address bernard.richards@yahoo.co.uk). I am hoping to have it on sale at the RSC bookshop. It does not sound as if purists are going to enjoy Greg Doran's production. I was very lucky in my production to have some excellent actors. Henriquez and Violante were paticularly good. Easily up to professional standard. It's a pity it did not have more of an impact. I am reviewing the Arden edition in the forthcoming Essays in Criticism.
best wishes, Bernard Richards
The theater is under a trestle and we know that because we could hear, not feel, the trains pass by above. Not a distraction like the planes and other airborne machines above The Globe. The Union Theater is a black box that holds about 55 people. 30 in three rows of ten on the far side of the stage and five rows of five on the near side. To the right is backstage behind a curtain. The narrowness of the near audience is to allow the players two more ways of entering the stage area which is probably 20 feet by 15 feet, in addition to the one directly from the black curtain.
Tonight was the opening performance and it started on time, half seven. The performance was supported by the Arden Shakespeare, though I read the Theobold version from Google books. I had read the play twice in the past month, so as to become familiar with it. The performance was true to the text and in 18th Century costume. The cast was a mix of old hands on stage and newbies. One needed a program to know the difference. It was well played by all.
I was particularly struck by the interchange of the two fathers, Don Bernard and Camillo, in the First Act about Honor and Time. The use of Honor was visited by Falstaff the other night as a foil to Hector's magnificent account of Honor in Troilus and Cessida. Camillo's account is closer to Hector's. In addition we were treated by a monosyllabic and double syllabic use of the word Time from these two men. It reminded me of John Barton's discussion of how Time is used by Shakespeare and how is should be pronounced both ways depending upon the circumstance. The production added something, at least in my Theobold version. Since I haven't seen the Arden issue, I can't be sure it is an addition. Two gentlemen dressed as horses, appropriately enough, since The Duke is concerned with his younger son's sudden interest in horses, parade out between some scenes, an older man, perhaps, Time, as in Winter's Tale perhaps portending to be Shakespeare and a younger man a foil, a jack, a very nave. The older man would recite certain famous lines from other plays while the younger would finish them. He began with "All the world's a stage." The quoted lines were apt to the play we were watching. Now its purpose is unknown, except to provide some mild entertainment at particularly difficult times in the play to allow the players time to change from one costume to another. It was an entertaining interjection and did nothing to injure the performance, only to enhance it.
The costuming was well done, which begs the question why not the makeup. The players were plain, themselves. It was difficult to believe that Camillo was going to die soon as he railed because he was a large, healthy Rugby kind of man who wasn't dying too soon unless he was hit by a truck because he would destroy any car that hit him. Makeup would have helped the two fathers to help us, in spite of the concept of suspending disbelief. Couldn't be done just as it was hard to believe he was the father of a woman his own age. He was one of the strongest players on stage and delivered his lines smartly. I also found Henriquez, the younger son of the Duke to be a perfect cad and an evilly wayward boy.
The play has such obvious references to other Shakespeare works, like the opening to King Lear. The disguise and running to the woods as in As You Like It. The comedy in the woods like Midsummer Nights Dream. I felt honored to see such a fine performance by this little troupe and hope it all the success. I wonder why it is only playing for 4 nights.
The last time I was so blessed to see a premier performance of a new Shakespeare play was Two Noble Kinsman in Stratford in 1986. Bravo to the cast and to the director Barrie Addenbrooke who did admirably, kept it true, and had the pleasure of being the first to direct this new play since 1728. Bravissimo.
From Duncan Lynskey
I was also at the Double Falsehood premiere last night. The two men with the hobby horses were strictly speaking the characters Lopez and Fabian, but the production took their lines and mixed them up with random Shakespeare quotes and presented them as Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. This is a nod to the origins of the story behind Double Falsehood in the original Shakespeare/Fletcher play "Cardenio" which is taken from Cervantes' "Don Quixote".
You might not have realised but the editor of the Arden Edition, Brean Hammond was there that night in the centre of the front row facing the entrance door, as was the general editor of the Arden Shakespeare Richard Proudfoot, as well as the mayor of Southwark and the theatre director Janet Suzman!
Duncan Lynskey
He added this in a second communication and in response to my query about Double Falsehood being performed at the Swan when it reopens.
As for the Swan reopening, Greg Doran of the RSC has been working on reconstructing Cardenio by filling in scenes assumed to be missing from Double Falsehood. This has been done before, but he plans to work with a Spanish writer so that it will be in English and Spanish. The RSC has also workshopped this at the University of Michigan:
http://www.annarbor.com/entertainment/cardenio-story/
I spoke to someone from the University of Warwick who has been working on related matters with Greg Doran and he said that The Two Noble Kinsmen might also be part of the Swan reopening.
In fact, Brean Hammond's Double Falsehood is so hot off the press that he discusses the forthcoming RSC Cardenio on page 131 of the book. As you haven't got it with you in Scotland I'll include the relevant paragraph below:
"As I write this, I am learning from the Shakespearean scholar Jonathan Bate and Gregory Doran, Chief Associate Director of the Royal Shakespeare Company, about plans to workshop a reconstruction of Cardenio in association with the Almagro Festival. It is hoped that this will be an Anglo-Spanish collaboration and will be a mix of Cervantes, Shelton and Theobold under the
title of Cardenio... [footnote] 'It will be a mix of Theobald, Shelton and Cervantes, and will definitely include the Johnson songs (one of Michael Wood's best bits of work, that). It'll be worked up with Spanish as well as British actors, in an attempt to re-Spanishize the feel of Shelton and Theobald' (Gregory Doran, private communication, 23 July 2007)"
From Bernard Richards:
Saw your blog about Double Falsehood. I didn't see the production. My production of Cardenio was put on at Queens' College, Cambridge in March 2009. Unfortunately the production team did not get their act together on publicity, and it disappeared without trace. It was also staged at the Edinburgh Festival in 2009. It has six new scenes written by me. There is a photo from my production in Brean Hammond's Arden edition (miscaptioned alas). It was in 17th century dress, and sounds as if it was 'straighter' than the production you saw. There is an edition of my play. £5 including postage (apply to me e-mail address bernard.richards@yahoo.co.uk). I am hoping to have it on sale at the RSC bookshop. It does not sound as if purists are going to enjoy Greg Doran's production. I was very lucky in my production to have some excellent actors. Henriquez and Violante were paticularly good. Easily up to professional standard. It's a pity it did not have more of an impact. I am reviewing the Arden edition in the forthcoming Essays in Criticism.
best wishes, Bernard Richards
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