Category: Travel / Out and About (Page 7 of 18)

I got a call at 8:30 this morning from Friendly Donald at CalMac! We’re on first name terms already. He told me that if I could be at the Oban ferry terminal for 9:20 I could join the Staffa and Treshnish island tour. I peered out of my window and a vibrant rainbow was framing the town. All systems go. There would be no food or drink available for the entire day so I had make sure I packed well.

View from my window

It wasn’t until I reached the terminal and picked up a brochure that I discovered that I’d actually be sailing to Mull, to Craignure, then getting a minibus across the island’s narrowest point, and picking up a small excursion boat for the rest of the day.

All aboard for Staffa on Hoy Lass

Another rainbow was present as the huge car ferry set off on its 50 minute journey to Mull. I’ll be doing this same ferry trip on Sunday morning!

Approaching the Treshish islands

So as I stepped foot on Mull for the first time the minibus was waiting. Apart from the driver, who was from Somerset of all unlikely places, no-one else was speaking English as their first language, and, of course, I was the only one traveling alone, a fact that did not escape the driver.

My view from Hoy Lass

It was about 40 minutes drive to Ulva and I was able to see the narrow road with passing places that we’ll have to contend with in a few days. The sun was out and the landscape of Mull was laid out before us, like something from a movie. There were plenty of Sea Otters Crossing signs!

On Lunga

Boarding the tour boat the captain informed us that because of the strong wind we’d be following the proposed tour in reverse order. He assured us that the first 30 minutes would be calm but after that, when we reached the open sea ‘all hell will break loose,’ it was at that point I decided to take a sea sickness tablet, or two. After throwing up for 4 hours going to St Kilda two years ago I didn’t wish to repeat that scenario! AND the captain was absolutely right. A young teen near me was looking decidedly green so I called for a sick bag – and got one for myself at the same time.

By the time we reached Lunga I was feeling decidedly queasy, though I purposely hadn’t eaten lunch. We only had a 45 minute stop here- unscheduled because the captain was still unsure if we’d by able to land in Staffa. The swell was amazing. No-one could stand up. My arm constantly bumped against a window sill and quite often we felt the boat free fall into a trough. It was all quite a thrill. Lunga was tiny though it is, in fact, the largest of the Treshnush arcapelago. It’s a famous bird watchers paradise and 1000 grey seal pups are born there each year.

Ruins of what? On Lunga

It was only another half hour to Staffa, an uninhabited chunk of volcanic rock. It’s fame is due to Mendelssohn visiting it and subsequently composing his Fingal’s cave

Basalt columns at Staffa

overture. Wordsworth and Turner also visited this place.  I climbed the steep stairway leading over the basalt columns to the cave. The walkway into the cave was recently destroyed by winter storms but I

could still peer into the gloom and watch the sea causing even more erosion. It’s very similar to the cave I visited with Rachel on Black Sand beach in Iceland in early June. I sat on a barnacle covered basalt column and listened to the overture on my phone, glad that I downloaded it especially for the trip.

Fingal’s Cave

Beautiful colors

Our return trip retraced our steps exactly and we embarked back in Oban at 6. A quick trip to Tesco on the way home provided me with some delicious seafood which I must now go and cook!

A couple of weeks ago I had organized my 5 days in Oban by booking 2 whole day excursions, the first being being a 14 hour trip to the island of Coll, and the second being an 8 hour trip to Staffa. But unfortunately when I was waiting for my train in Glasgow the ferry company informed me that due to a storm both trips had been cancelled. So- this morning I didn’t have any plan in place. I told Peter of my disappointment and he suggested a couple of alternatives. It was a gloomy, wet start to the day and it stayed that way the whole day.

First I took a walk up the North coast to the ruins of a castle begun 1000 years ago. It mainly consists of overgrown ruins today but the family still live on site in a manor house. I explored a deserted beach and walked back into town through an impressive avenue of trees, past an ancient sea stack that is now in the middle of the woods and past some Mesolithic cave dwellings.

After lunch chez moi I headed out for a sail to Kerrera, only 10 minutes on a tiny boat. It’s this island across the mouth of

Oban Bay that protects the bay and make it the Centre if Scotland’s fishing industry.

We even passed Heather Island! The only other 2 passengers were people who either work or live in the island. It has a

population of 30. I hiked up the hill to the monument which commemorates the man who began the CalMac ferry services which are a lifeline to these scattered Inner Hebrides. By now the rain was coming down seriously and I stopped to don my waterproof pants!  Next I tried to hike the length of the island ( it’s only 5 miles long) but when I got to a path through a field full of Highland cattle I

chickened out and retraced my steps, past a Jacob sheep with 4 large horns, some brown spotted pigs, one enormous pig in its own pen, and lots and lots of rabbits everywhere. A glass of wine on the patio of the bar and grill(which operates the ferry) was just the ticket before returning to Oban in the ferry. The rain stopped and I wandered around some of the streets, exploring the modern catholic cathedral and did some window shopping.

I needed to find some food to take back home and Peter had told me of a ‘goat’ track leading from the house to Tesco. I found it, amazingly enough and purchased some supplies.

Back home after dinner and a nice bath it was time to get started on my travel journal- courtesy of Anna.

All set for the journey to Oban  on 4 trains

Playing the piano in Glasgow central railway station

Essentials for my 9 hour journey

It was cloudy and raining all the way- until I stepped off the train at Oban harbour. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds and there was a golden glow AND a rainbow.

My airbnb was only 3 minutes walk from the railway station and the harbour, in an old traditional stone building, but inside it was all brand new

Peter, host, is a serious Pink Floyd fan and the TV in my bedroom was tuned to a  continuous YouTube channel of Their music- excellent. A great incentive to put my hedgehog covered feet up.

As I was setting  out for Hebden Bridge railway station there was an almighty clap of thunder, the heavens opened and I found myself in a major thunder storm. The heat wave had broken violently. A quick change of plan had me travel to Halifax on the bus instead because it stops right outside my place. By the time I reached Halifax half an hour later the sun was shining and I had to make a quick dash into Poundland (horror of horrors!) to purchase some sunglasses.

We met our guides outside the Old Cock Inn, which traditionally was one of Branwell’s drinking haunts.

I thought the we’d be walking around the streets but we soon  found ourselves on a cobbled path that led up Beacon hill. It became a track, quite slippery in places with the recent downpour. This was originally a drovers’ road to Wakefield. From the top I could see Queensbury Mill where we’d seen a Black Dyke Mills concert, Stoodley Pike, and High Sunderland, the old hall which now is thought to be the building that emily Bronte had in mind when she describes Wuthering Heights. The old hall was demolished in 1952 and our guides showed us a drawing of the original hall, while reading Emily’s description from her book. We were close to Southowram where she was governess for 6 months at Law Hill School, and had visited the vicarage where Father Guy had invited Rachel and I to see the parlour where Emily had visited the then vicar’s daughter.

Great view of the Piece hall and Square Chapel beneath a menacing sky.

The guides – Craig Bradley (poet) and Nicky Harlow (novelist and creative writer) currently working on a work about Emily Bronte in Halifax. 

Down into the Shibden Valley to Shibden Hall. I was last here a year ago when I gated crashed (accidentally) the filming of a Bollywood movie. It’s currently closed for filming a new movie by Sally Wainwright about Anne Lister whose home this was. 

Making friends with the Shibden lion.

After lunch at Shibden Hall we walked back into Halifax where a few minutes later, as I headed for the station another roar of thunder heralded the next thunder storm. How fortunate we had been – dry weather for our walk (71/2 miles), but rich black clouds for photos.

Walking back from Todmorden:

World Cup flags in a canal-side garden

Walk #2 Hebden Bridge through Hollins on some trails new to me.

Early harvest

Imagine walking up and down these steep cobbled paths in your clogs, on pitch dark nights and mornings, from your home on t’tops to the mill i’t’ bottoms

A new perspective of Hebden Bridge 

On a day when the temperature in Hebden Bridge was going to soar into the 80’s I decided to go for a hike. I took the bus up across the moors to Haworth and had planned on having a light lunch in my favourite tea shop, but there was absolutely no shade in Haworth’s main street so I had a glass of lemonade, picked up a pastie from the vegan pastie shop and headed out towards Stanbury, thus avoiding all the tourists in the centre of town, close to the parsonage. I met a few other idiots like myself hiking along the footpaths out towards the dam and the Friendly pub where I’d celebrated my birthday.

I ended up doing a shorter walk than I’d planned, and I was grateful for an icecream once I’d got back into Haworth. I sat in the graveyard and enjoyed the peace and quiet before returning back to Hebden on the bus.

Too hot for this little kitty in Haworth.

For the past few months I’ve been noticing a steep path crossing the hillside below Heptonstall, and I eventually picked up a small guide to Eaves Wood somewhere in my travels. So today I decided to go and check it out. It was the first warm, sunny day that we’ve had this year!

One of my favourite views from Heptonstall across to Stoodley Pike which I hiked up to last weekend. Daffies are out in bloom in the village.

Just past the church in Heptonstall the cliff drops down very steeply. I’d explored just the top of this path with Anna in November. It’s called Hell Hole. Officially, no-one knows why these terraces and paths were created, but they probably were constructed in the 19th century. So I started off right at the top of the hill.

Hell Hole rocks

Great view for my picnic –  right into Hebden Bridge.

You can’t imagine how long it took me to set up this selfie!

My ancestors built this – no, not the ruined shed, the terrace behind! 

Hebden was PACKED with people. The pubs were jammed. There was no space on any of the outdoor tables in the square. And just think, only two weeks ago I took this photo of a lone pint at the Shoulder of Mutton!