Anyway, once at Polraen, we were able to settle in! Unusual for a B&B, it has a comfy little pub and a pretty dining room. Anyway, it’s nice to look back on these two really fun trips – and I do love New York….such an incredible city, now and always. But the atmosphere reminded you of what used to be…. Always shopping til we drop, no matter where we are! Suddenly, a strong barnyard odor invaded the car, getting stronger and stronger, until it became overwhelming. We drove on to Crackington Haven…not far, actually. Its tiny harbor was filled with fishing boats, and many, many people wandered its winding cobbled streets. We walked along the River Ness (not too far away from the Loch – which, when we asked – yet another – taxi driver if anyone still sees the Loch Ness Monster, he replied: ‘I don’t think it’s a monster, but I think there’s SOMETHING there.’ Eerie! Our cabin was right on the Canyon rim; we picked up the key, drove round to the front door, and carried our luggage into what would become our home for two nights. Once again on Martha’s Vineyard, we dropped off our bicycles and keys, and stopped for beer and nachos at a little restaurant hovering over the water. After much frantic packing the night before, I am on my merry way to the airport at 8:30 in the morning to begin my first-ever trip to Italy. The month was September, and the weather could not have been more perfect, the countryside more beautiful. …apples, plums, pears and a grape arbor, with the veggie garden offering green runner beans which were wonderful. Unfortunately, we arrived rather late, so we saw very little of the village…just toured the little Tudor castle on the hill, and then walked to the sea front, where we stopped for a latte. She: tall, extremely slender, straight shoulder length (or longer) blonde hair, a figure to die for, and a very sweet smile. The colors! We kept ice in our mouths as much as possible to offset the drying heat, gulping juice a mile a minute as the ice melted. (Crackington Haven – well named!) As we look from the window of our room, the hills strewn with colorful villas look like a Renaissance painting. Yum-o! Today, while apparently still unfinished, the grounds contain a church, lakes and islands, bridges, grottos, meandering pathways, beautiful trees and lush bushes. Never was I so happy to see a ferry! Monday, September 4…We both rose early as we had to be out of Old Orchard by 10AM – it was being taken over by the new tenants. Ha! I do love quiet cars!! Beautiful coastal walks, farm country rambles, and a day trip to historic Monhegan Island, with homebases in Boothbay Harbor and Camden – joy! And so…looking back, from the magical delights of Cornwall to the serene beauty of the Cotswolds, the fairy tale was real…at least, it was real for me. So much for the crack of dawn. 90 98 14. On the footpath, we met a likable couple living in an absolutely charming cottage who were beekeepers. This was not a particularly grueling hike, but there is something to be said for a hike that allows you to inhale the fresh air, look at the beauty surrounding you, take photographs and just enjoy the sea breezes and intermittent sun. Outdoors was even more spectacular. Did I mention all week long the weather had been FABULOUS. The view from our window was amazing: across emerald green fields, you see the sea, a clear, deep blue, mirroring the sky above. I loved it, and appreciated the fact that I only now remembered to check it out…much too good! ), The grounds of Loch Torridon Hotel – I never wanted to leave. Ah well…, Polraen House where we stayed in Looe, Cornwall. We had tea and scones in a hotel pub which we found down a narrow alleyway; walked up Sheep Street to one of the loveliest thatched roofed cottages I’ve ever seen…. We had 10 minutes to wolf down two bites of sandwich, and 3 gulps of beer, then we had to whip out of there and dash across the street to get to the theatre on time! Tough choice, but… drinking seemed to be the order of the day! The Worcestershire Way winds through farmlands over untamed fields high with unmown waving grass; through fields of mown hay and bright yellow rapeseed; past a small signpost with the legend “Badger’s Wood”; through a huge apple orchard, the trees bent to the ground and loaded with apples. We took many photographs, then walked back down the mountain to the ferry, which took us up the fjord to another mountain trail. “Do you know how fast you were going, Ma’am? 28 48 6. John was cleaning the black iron railings. We switched seats, and Lana got behind the wheel. We were in the middle of nowhere, and nothing was in sight for miles…we were definitely beginning to wonder if an unplanned hike was in the offing. Cleo's Fall 2012 Coffee Pick... Kenyan "Lenana" This coffee was named after one of the peaks of Mt. We left this idyll to drive into town for some shopping and a newspaper, then back to Cowleigh Park for another long walk up the Worcestershire Way. The windows were lace curtained, with windowsills lined with pots of bright geraniums or daisies. We got back in the car and determined to find Windsor…suffice it to say, we did not! This is to be another challenging hike, and one of the most spectacularly beautiful. the glorious fields, farms and far vistas seen from the road. The weather had changed drastically – it was grey and raining steadily. They found it all exhilarating! From here, we hike to an isolated primitive villa belonging to Vittorio, a friend of Mario’s. Part of the trip down was spent on all fours! It took me days to get used to them. On the way out of Clifton, we suddenly found ourselves in an avenue of over-arching maples, all yellow-leafed, with the road carpeted in yellow leaves. Taxis everywhere…but try flagging one down! We drive the M3 until we get off on one of the “A” roads, taking us through Salisbury Plains, where we see Stonehenge in the distance, but don’t stop. When they are set on the table, they are as big as lobsters, and taste great. I knew mine was called Kettle Cottage, but being blind as a bat when I start to panic, I couldn’t see anything that remotely resembled my house. Well, master chefs we are not, but this was great! Lakes, woods, the Guinness Tower lost in the middle of the woods (which we climbed to the top…circular stone staircase, so narrow you almost had to pry yourself up) and on the top…just trees as far as the eye could see. The weekend had begun, and the town was filled with tourists. But, exhausted (and starving), we thought it looked like heaven on a plate. Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com. Seated on a covered terrace overlooking the bathers below on the small beach, a variety of seafood, olives, bread, and prosciutto e melone is served – every wonderful taste intensified by atmosphere, water and scent. What a day…what a splendid, splendid day. The sets moved back, forward, up, down, and under. Crystal Cars took us halfway down the hill into the village, and let us out close to a small stall selling whelks, cockles, prawns, and other seafood…we promised ourselves to come back for the cockles, but we never found the stall again! We decided to go to Fowey to hike around town. Two new couples joined us at the breakfast table, one from Chepstow in the Wye Valley, and one from New Jersey. A quick lunch at a service center halfway to London took us from the sublime to the ridiculous. An old half-timbered manor house, it was originally built in 1200 in a deer park about 100 yards away from where it presently stands. Much commotion! As we sat gingerly lowered ourselves, our chins almost hit the table. I was completely drenched. (I wish I could get these yoghurts in Houston.). There are empty places at our tables; there are empty buildings that favorite restaurants, shops and cultural institutions once occupied. Up at 9AM, Judy and I called Room Service, ate a quick breakfast and took a cab to her son’s townhouse – four stories of delightful house in a mews around the corner from Buckingham Palace. On the final chilly night in Camden, we all partook of a traditional lobster boil, sitting outside in the darkness on benches set on either side of trestle tables overlooking the bay. After several turns around the maze-like lot, we finally gave it up as a bad job, and asked the parking attendant to direct us to the gate – which happened to be straight ahead. But the desert wasn’t through with us yet. A gentle breeze ruffled the greenery, and it was about 70 degrees. When the morning wakens, We turned on the short grassy lane to Manor Farm, which, we were told, was listed in the Domesday Book. I wanted to haul him out of the room! Divine! And we thought, well, maybe it had a point! The mist and off-and-on mizzle made the mossy rocks extremely slippery, so we had to be very careful where we put our feet. You can only get there by boat, and no cars are allowed. The film “The Quiet Man” with John Wayne and Maureen O’Sullivan was filmed here…and every pub and restaurant and hotel is named after one of the characters in the movie, and every window is filled with photographs from the movie. We arrived in late afternoon, and were immediately impressed: what a beautiful place! After hiking miles across mountains, we circled back. The air is scented with pine and flowers, crystal clear and intensely fresh. Even our tour guide, Steve, was stunned by its beauty, both of the grounds and the house. After a few photo ops, we met back at the house for dinner and to make our plans for the next day. Everything was hushed and mustily elegant. Besides the sculptured grounds, all was green…green, green grass, surrounded by woods, mountains, and the silvery-gray, entrancing loch. The one thing we hadn’t wrapped our taste buds around so far was the Cotswold ice cream, so seeing a vendor’s cart on the street, we stopped for a cone. I fell in love with Alex, and will always remember him. Small Cotswolds villages – with our tour guide Steve – Chapter 4. The air is clean; we’re still having beautiful weather, and the breeze was brisk and evergreen-scented. What a climb: two hours up, over massive boulders blocking the trail, up steps cut into the mountain, up vine-trailed pathways, over rock and stones, ever up to the top of the world! Hmm. Fabulous bruschetta…both Diane and I devoured it. Thursday August 24…We decided to take the train to Truro and St Ives. From the heart of England, we drove to Lyme Regis, through rolling English countryside – going like a bat out of hell. No, I know it. A funny thing happened after the play. It is traditional to tie or drop a personal item here (I offered a mint) and make a wish. A stream wandered along the edge of the grounds. We arrived at the Ceilidh Inn in Ullapool, dropped off our luggage, and hiked to Loch Broom, entrancing and smelling heavenly. Under the now lowering English sky, we saw the meandering river crossed by stone bridges, and the charming cottages surrounding it. We walk outside onto the deck, and it is bitterly cold. Apparently we didn’t – we could manage. Absolutely nothing like it. The final leg of the hike was on asphalt through rolling beautiful country (a little rough on the toes.) The Fishmarket of Bergen and the Funicular. We pulled off the freeway, into a wide swathe of vineyard, lit every so often by a tiny lamp. We ran down to the coffee shop for breakfast, and as we were finishing, the smog began to lift. The weather is amazing. Another long or short walk was offered on the way back to the ferry. It helped to drink drink drink, and not eat at all. Afterwards, several of us cross the grassy stretch behind the hotel in the silvery moonlight. Tuesday August 29…This is the day Steve, our tour guide, took us on a Cotswolds villages tour. As Lene noted, “It was uphill on the way in, why isn’t it downhill on the way back?!”. A view of the Japanese Garden on Chappaquiddick, On our way back to the ferry, we bicycled past a Japanese garden, about three acres deep. It was another gorgeously sunny day, and this part of the footpath was unshaded by trees along the actual trail, so by the time we managed close to a mile, we were rather warm. Ten years later in 1663, there were over 80 coffeehouses within the City and by the start of the eighteenth century, this number had grown to over 500. But minutes later, we were at the Grand Canyon. The flatness of the country began to change: we were coming up to Flagstaff. We found the church and graveyard. The sun broke through the mist, and it was a beautiful day, and very warm. And after a couple of hours, despite the thickness of my boot soles, my feet began to feel every stone beneath them! I woke up really late after a rather unsettled night, so took my time getting a shower, coffee (which I had on the deck just outside the French door to my bedroom)and figuring out what I wanted to do with my day. Coffee Shop. The sky was overcast, the day gray and windy- what better for Stonehenge? The little tiny town of Fjaerland perched on the edge of the fjord and it was exquisite. We were both getting fed up constantly checking and re-checking! We toted our luggage upstairs, then left for a walk along the front to the old pier. I wondered if Thistleboone Gardens was still there….not only was it still there, it looked just the same as it did when I was a child. We found the freeway, which at that time of the morning was filled with nothing but semis, driving like bats out of hell. The lights stretch in endless patterns endlessly to the sea or just distant parts of New York. As usual, I wandered around the grounds of Old Orchard’s beautiful garden, picked some apples and plums in the orchard for Steve and myself, and sat on the bench in the back overlooking the green fields and ever-grazing sheep, just inhaling the fresh air. Like a small blue sapphire within an emerald green cup, Portofino is the quintessential cosmopolitan seaside Italian Riviera town. We moved upwards to a lookout point, where we sat on the rim with the entire Canyon spread below us. On the road to Cornwall down a country lane. A knock on the door is the maid, who (naturally) speaks no English. The façade of the house is Cornish stone; flower baskets hang on the grey stone walls. Five of us – all women – chose the “long walk,” challenging and quite grueling. Ah well…. The weather by this time had turned crisp and sunny again, and the walk and the views were wonderful. Honestly! That night we ate at an enchanting new restaurant, and had some of the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life. Friday August 25… We awoke to a cool cool morning…so fresh and clean, sunny and bright, but what a wrench to leave!! Rosemary, Judy, Gail and Kent in front of the bothy, After the “bothy,” we must decide whether to continue or turn back. The route was tortuous, as we got lost trying to find our way out of Swansea (we’re a bit pitiful with directions), but finally, we were on the open road again. Challenging, but exhilarating at the same time! It doesn’t matter if it’s 6 in the morning or 12 at night. Although we looked like a couple of hobos, the desk clerk was extremely understanding, giving us a room what seemed like miles from the front office. Not a peaceful night. JOIN THE DIEMERSFONTEIN CORK CLUB. Wonderful! This was one of the (many) reasons we came to California…just everything you dreamed of. We were all breathing quite heavily by the time we reached the top – but more to come! The tide was out, and had left fishing boats beached in the sandy cove. This was a long, long drive. For some reason, we also lined up in a row, each of us sitting on the knees of the person behind us, pretending to be rowing a Viking ship – don’t ask me why! Gigantic tulips, daisies, buttercups and forsythia everywhere, with geraniums splashing in pinks and vibrant reds. The Haight was not what it had been – mostly, no-one was there! After breakfast, we hotfoot it to the garage to see about the tire. I loved her: Hennaed hair, about 65 years old (maybe older), and fairly small-a typical New Yorker, born and bred, and funny as hell “Let me see ya in that sweater, honey I’m waiting out here – let me see it – is it on yet?”, Me: “I’m trying on the cargo pants, Gloria.” Gloria: “Oh, yes, those look good – no, honey, you don’t want to get them tailored here- too expensive. If we’d ordered the weather, we wouldn’t have made a single change. Then we inched back across the ledge – and drove to the most famous castle in Scotland for a brief tour – the Eileen Donnan. From here it was downhill. On the train from Paddington to Looe, we also experienced – quite by accident – our first “quiet car”. Beautiful more-than-full-size feather beds sat high, high up, with immense feather pillows. It was 80 degrees outside – soon to become even warmer! We wanted to shop, and we wanted to go to Clint Eastwood’s Hogs Breath Inn. If more milk was produced than necessary for one batch, another batch had to be started immediately making an 18-hour day for some poor woman. The car took off into the clearing, and stopped. To get to the bathroom, I walked down a narrow, winding, low-ceilinged little staircase to the basement. In thy holy eyes. ), We hiked past The Strangles, that silver, wild, wind-whipped part of the ocean below. We pulled the car into the parking lot and sat quietly for a moment. The day was sunny and bright, not a cloud in the sky. Once again, I didn’t get to sleep until early morning, which is why I’m always so late getting started the next day! It was difficult to see this place of my childhood so clogged with shops, houses, cars, and people. Steve and David helped me to choose a coat out of many (hard!) Loved it! Handcrafted by select artisans, this pick is perfect for all types of decors and comes with long shelf life. Cat King Message Note. Then it was on to the hike. We pulled in for directions; the store was closed, and a very large dog was taking care of the premises. Our dinner menu: duck fois gras, lobster etouvee, rack of lamb and fresh berries. The scent of lilac was unbelievably fragrant. When asked why, he pointed out slits and bubbles galore, and once again we thought we were up against it. We hope you will! Turning from the path, I see a small piazza almost deserted in a sunny street. And the bread – and the Cornish butter – a deep, rich yellow with flavor unlike anything over here in the States (at least anything I’ve eaten). We spent time in the beautiful, historic Church of St James, with its old, old carvings, stained glass and memorials, and wandered outside to take a walk amongst the ancient tombstones. About halfway to the boat – down narrow roads and high lanes banded by greenery starred with flowers – we were halted by a road paving crew blocking the path (a not infrequent occurrence). but it certainly was not around the nearest corner. “California Dreamin’” played on a radio somewhere. We heard the sound of the pebbles being sucked back into the sea…”that melancholy, long-withdrawing roar.”. More ice, and then onwards once again. The red rich tomatoes embody the flavor of Italy. The views are so spectacular, it’s hard to know where to look and what is the most beautiful. We begin to sing on the trail, yodelling “The Happy Wanderer” at the top of our lungs. Back in the car for Broadway, finishing at the Horse and Hounds for shandies before saying goodbye. and every single one of them was dressed in black! The asphalt highway cutting through the desert was the only sign of civilization after leaving Rose’s. The road sped past and the air was clear. You can hire guides who will take you around the small villages and towns of the Cotswolds, which is a good way to see everything you want to, without getting lost! Need I say we ordered the restaurant’s IPA? Arlene booked us in for the balloon ride, so we drove to a field in the countryside where the balloon was being “gassed up.”. A goat farm, then tiny buildings appeared out of nowhere. I wandered past houses and shops viewed in years past, loving to see that so much remained the same. A short step away from home led me into a small but intensely green park – the Ernest Wilson Memorial Garden. Nonetheless, Jennifer, Brian, Tom and Bob donned bathing suits and plunged into the grey sea for a swim! The noise! Up and out at 9AM feeling fresh as a daisy, albeit slightly damp. “I need to shift my post-COVID hopes from the next big trip to the people I want and need to see again.”. I’ll never forget this particular trip…and we still have four more days to come! Tim took us at one point to an organic shopping centre. A part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it is an “ensemble of rooms and gardens” compiled from various parts of European monasteries, and built to house a wonderful collection of medieval art, from the 1100’s thru the 1500’s. There was a slight drizzle of rain by this time, so we turned for our B&B (the only bit of rain during the entire trip). The trees and lawns were dappled with sunlight or in deep green shadow, and the garden held small benches and statuary. Touring the Cotswolds villages – stepping back in time, Up at 7:30…another yummy breakfast, this time with rhubarb yoghurt…organic, natural – absolutely fab! Although some mornings had been overcast, we never seemed to get a single drop of rain. It was absolutely incredible yoghurt! Not a sound broke the stillness, except for the song of the brook. Then we wound our way to Haight Ashbury, which we’d both wanted to see (a few years too late, but what the hey…). We made it just before the final bell: the chicken was cold and the ribs were greasy, but all tasted like ambrosia. A restaurant in Broadway called Russell’s was known for its delicious menu, and its side café offered fish and chips, which we decided was necessary fuel for the rest of the day. Beautiful, beautiful. Guard the sailors tossing Middle Road, as the name implies, cuts through the center of the island. Time flies…. At 6:30 AM I crawled out of bed (well, okay, that’s the crack of dawn to me! Just down the road was Broad Chalke itself – a few cottages, a couple of manor houses, and an old pub at the crossroads, where we had dinner. Santa Margherita Ligure and Portofino As we continued, the trail began to ascend. But every time I see photographs long after returning to the U.S., I’ll remember Mike and Old Orchard and the beauty of flower, fruit, bush and tree – how everything came together to form this truly exquisite English country garden. Big Sur…90 miles and counting of one of the most incredible coastlines in the world. Everyone seemed to sit in a kind of dream, until the bus showed up, and then everyone dashed madly to get a seat. The Flatbreen is a “calving” glacier, because it drops chunks of ice at intervals. At 75 mph, we barely seemed to be moving. By the way, where y’all goin’?”. Paths are as wide as a footfall. A perfect day, in every way. I must be ordering the wrong kind… but, no, this IS Italian coffee! Over rolling countryside, Steve drove us to a beautiful bluff called Overlook Point. ... For our Thanksgiving break we tackled an item on my 45×45 Carpe Diem List: TAKE THE BOYS TO DISNEY WORLD! Crikey! Dumping all on the floor, scrabbling wildly for nightgowns and toothbrushes, we fell into our respective beds. Only to find, after disembarking, we had about 20 minutes before we had to catch the train to St Erth, so had a coffee and then galloped uphill back to the station…. But I survived – it was a great, great experience and adventure (oh, and now they’re setting off guns!). so we found shade beneath some (I think) beech trees, and unpacked the feast. Poirot was on the tube, and I settled in after my first full day back in the Cotswolds. Hair spray – no food. It wasn’t a few swirls of mist, it was a palpable blanket of gray rolling across the waterfront into town. Some of the towns and countryside looked as if they had never moved into the 20th century…still retaining the innocence of an earlier time. It was a lonely spot at that time of year, and especially with the darkness looming. Stony, mossy, and we were on our merry way over the low-lying hills and dales Cotswolds! Difficult to see that it didn ’ t a few hours later for the homeless custard helped ). T spend much time in Carmel, but discovering the countryside of England…there is nothing better than here... 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