Category Archives: Out and about

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Birding at Wallington

Over the past 12 months I have been afflicted by a bad back that has also affected my legs and mobility (finally—after an MRI scan last August—diagnosed as spinal stenosis). Consequently, I’ve not been walking quite as regularly as I used to. Well, not as far on each walk as I had enjoyed up until about March last year, and I’m still using a stick for support.

However, with medication and exercises, my condition has improved thank goodness, and I enjoy getting out and about again, trying for about 2 miles each time. But, when I’m feeling up to it, and the weather looks promising, it’s always a pleasure to enjoy a longer walk.

And that’s precisely why Steph and I headed out into Northumberland last Monday to the National Trust’s Wallington, just under 23 miles northwest from home, a drive of around 40 minutes depending on route and traffic. Even though the temperature was only around 6°C, it was bright and sunny, a gentle breeze, and there was some early Spring warmth in the sunshine.

Leaving home around 09:45, we arrived at Wallington before 10:30 and headed immediately to the café for a welcome cup of Americano. It was our intention to complete the River Walk through the grounds of Wallington (around 45 hectares or 111 acres) and along the upper reaches of the River Wansbeck (which rises 5 miles or so further west above Sweethope Lough).

The walk around the Wallington estate has been shut temporarily on several occasions in the past few years. Intense named storms have become a feature of our winters in recent years, and have brought down trees. The National Trust had to close paths until the fallen timber could be made safe.

The stepping stones over the Wansbeck were closed as one of the stones had been washed away, so we had to by-pass that section of the walk. The last time we tried to take the River Walk (in December 2020) we couldn’t cross because the river was in spate.

The walk was a little over three miles. Click on the special symbols in the map to see some of the birds seen at those points on the walk, or other landscape features we came across. And because Monday was such a fine day, I decided to take my binoculars in the hope of seeing some of the birdlife so common through Wallington’s woods and on its ponds.

Quite often I’ll leave my binoculars at home, and regret doing so after we catch sight of something interesting.

Along the path beside the Garden Pond, there’s a newly installed sculpture of an owl, carved from one of the downed trees, standing in open woodland (mainly of beech) but with lots of understorey bushes.

I had wondered if—and hoped—we’d see nuthatches (below) scurrying along the branches and picking out insects above our heads,

It’s a bird I’ve seen on only a few occasions, but that particular habitat was just right for nuthatches.

Then, a very small bird alighted on the branch just a few meters in front of me, and in full sunlight. I was fortunate to bring my binoculars to bear on this little bird, and I had a brief view before it flew off.

My immediate reaction was that it was a goldcrest, the smallest bird in the UK. But as it turned its head towards me, and the sun caught the feathers on its head, they appeared a much deeper reddish-orange rather than yellow. And its cheeks seemed whiter than I’d seen in a goldcrest. A firecrest was my next reaction.

I checked my bird books and online photographs when we arrived home. Although it seems that firecrests are quite uncommon in Northumberland, I’m now convinced—more than ever, and having compared images of a goldcrest and a firecrest side by side—that I saw a firecrest. Here are two images sent to me by my Northamptonshire friend, Barry Boswell (whose beautiful bird images I have used in other blog posts).

Goldcrest (L) and firecrest (R)

On the Garden Pond there was a small group of little grebes or dabchicks, several moorhens, and a flock of about 30 mallard ducks.

We walked through the walled garden, and enjoyed the crocus lawns at their best on the upper terrace, before heading through the gate that led to the River Walk path.

As I mentioned, we couldn’t cross the Wansbeck at the Stepping Stones, so had to walk along the road until we came to the fine 18th century hump-backed bridge, and then took the path alongside the river on its southern/western bank. Having left the road, we had a fine view of the bridge behind us.

Given the state of the river, with tranquil stretches interspersed with shallow rapids, I was hopeful that we might see a dipper or two.

And we weren’t disappointed. Just as we approached the footbridge, there was a solitary dipper sitting on a stone in mid-stream, preening itself. And taking no notice of us whatsoever, we had a great view for at least five minutes, before we crossed over the footbridge close by.

On the opposite bank there is an interesting piece of bespoke artwork depicting wolves, Nothing Exists Alone, which you can only appreciate fully from the right angle.

Click on this next image to read the description more easily.

Then we took the path away from the river and climbed towards the thick woodland on the brow of the hill (with a great view of a wren at the side of the path), ending up at the wildlife hide.

Wren

There was a range of bird feeders there, attracting a range of tit species (great, blue, coal, and long-tailed) and some chaffinches.

Making our way back to the house, we saw another nuthatch in one of the large trees, and a pair of beautiful teal ducks on the Middle Pond.

Then, as we were making our way back to the car park, we saw a large flock of chaffinches on the bird feeders close to the entrance drive, one of the largest flocks I’ve seen in a long while.

Of course these weren’t the only birds that caught our attention as we wandered round the River Walk. There were numerous blackbirds and robins, as well as crows and jackdaws in the fields.

But this Wallington walk will be remembered for that flash of reddish-orange early on. I wonder if others have spotted a firecrest there as well?

 

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Landmarks across the northeast

Across Tyneside, there are several impressive landmarks that no visitor to the region—by land, sea, or air—can fail to miss. All are just a few miles from where we are now living in North Tyneside (since October 2020).

Perhaps the most visible is the River Tyne itself, along whose banks the settlements of Newcastle upon Tyne (on the north) and Gateshead on the south were founded. Actually the River Tyne is two rivers. The North Tyne rises in the hills on the Scottish border, whereas the source of the South Tyne is in Cumbria. The two branches come together near Hexham, 20 miles due west from Newcastle city center.

Newcastle and Gateshead rise steeply away from the Tyne, and are connected by several road and rail bridges, including the iconic Tyne Bridge, opened in 1928 and undergoing a much-needed renovation, hopefully in time for its centenary in 2028.

There is a much more recent footbridge, the Gateshead Millennium Bridge, opened in 2001. Further east, the A19 trunk road crosses under the Tyne in the Tyne Tunnel between Wallsend and Jarrow.

There has been a long history of settlement along the river’s banks. The Romans built a garrison and supply base, Arbeia, near the mouth of the river on its south bank. Hadrian’s Wall begins its journey westwards from Wallsend, at Segedunum fort, just a few miles upstream from Arbeia, but on the north bank.

Arbeia, a Roman fort and supply base, built around 129 AD.

There was a long history of heavy industry along the Tyne, with the port developed for the export of coal from the many collieries in the area, as well as shipbuilding. Indeed, Newcastle was one of the leading shipbuilding cities in the country. All now long closed down.

Of course the mouth of the River Tyne looks very different now than when the Romans arrived. Today, there are piers on both sides of the river mouth. The north or Tynemouth pier (shown below, with a lighthouse at the seaward end), 900 m long (and open to the public during clement weather), took 40 years to build. The south pier is longer, and also took around 40 years to build.

Tynemouth Lighthouse and the entrance to the River Tyne from Tynemouth Priory.

If you fly into Newcastle International Airport, and the wind is blowing from the west, the usual flight path takes aircraft over the mouth of the River Tyne, before banking north. If you are lucky, there are some great views of the city and river.

Just beyond the Tyne, on the left, is St Mary’s Lighthouse (decommissioned since 1984) on its island, just south of Seaton Sluice. Just north of the lighthouse, aircraft then bank left and line up for landing at the airport nine miles west-southwest from the coast.

The view of St Mary’s Lighthouse from Old Hartley.

Just inside the mouth of the Tyne, and standing on the north bank below Tynemouth castle and priory, is the magnificent memorial statue of Vice Admiral of the Red, Lord Cuthbert Collingwood (1748-1810) whose flagship HMS Royal Sovereign was the first British ship to engage with the combined French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. The statue of Collingwood is 23 feet or 7 m tall. The four canons either side of the steps come from HMS Royal Sovereign.

It must be seen many miles out to sea. And although we had seen it from Tynemouth castle and priory on previous visits to the town, it wasn’t until Monday afternoon past that we got to see it up close.

The mouth of the River Tyne, with the Collingwood Monument on the right.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cuthbert_Collingwood,_Baron_Collingwood_by_Henry_Howard.jpg

We took the path west along the river towards North Shields Fish Quay (about 1 mile), and came across a rather lovely statue (in steel), the Fiddler’s Green Sculpture by Ray Lonsdale from County Durham, that was erected in 2017. It is is a memorial to North Shields fishermen lost at sea. It was based on a photograph of a local fisherman.

Below the statue is a plaque that reads:

To the fishermen lost in the cold North Sea,
and the ones who will be so,
I’ll be seeing you all on Fiddler’s Green,
be steady as you go.

For Fiddler’s Green is a place I’ve heard tell,
though no one really knows,
where the fishermen go if they don’t go to hell,
and no Arctic wind will blow.

Fiddler’s Green is an imaginary paradise to which sailors are conveyed after death, traditionally a place of wine, women, and song. And here is the 19th century Irish song (and the lyrics), performed by The Dubliners.

Arriving to Tyneside from the south by road, on the A1, a huge sculpture suddenly comes into view on the outskirts of Gateshead. This is the iconic Angel of the North, by Sir Antony Gormley, which was erected in 1998.

We took a close look at it in November 2018, but have not been back since we moved to the northeast.

My final landmark is Grey’s Monument in Newcastle city center. If you travel there by Metro, you are immediately confronted by the 133 foot (41 m) column as you emerge from Monument station.

Charles Grey, 2nd Earl Grey

It was erected in 1831 in recognition of Charles Grey, 2nd Earl Grey, [of supposed Earl Grey tea fame] Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1830 to 1834. In particular, it celebrates the passing of the Great Reform Act of 1832, one of Grey’s most important legislative achievements. The act reorganised the system of parliamentary constituencies and increased the number of those eligible to vote.

It certainly dominates the Newcastle skyline. Open to visitors, there are 164 steps to climb to the viewing platform. The views south from the top must be spectacular over Newcastle’s impressive Georgian architecture on Grey Street and Grainger Street, but that’s not something I’m likely to challenge.

Tyneside and so much of the surrounding region has so much to offer any visitor. English Heritage and the National Trust own a number of properties close by, and further out there is the magnificent coastline of Northumberland and County Durham, as well as the moors and hills stretching westwards to the Scottish border and into Cumbria.

 

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Nunnington Hall – from 13th century manor house to 20th century family home

There has been a manor house beside the River Rye in the small village of Nunnington (lying within the Howardian Hills National Landscape of North Yorkshire) since the 13th century.

Built from a light colored coral rag Jurassic limestone, the Nunnington Hall estate occupies around 5 acres (2 ha) and is surrounded by a walled garden. The house has changed in character over the centuries, as each resident (owner or tenant) stamped their mark on its architecture and layout. It has been owned and managed by the National Trust since 1952, although it remained a family home until 1978.

Source: Historic England Archive 20838_044

In Tudor times there were distant royal connections, and during the 17th century English Civil Wars, Parliamentarian troops were garrisoned in the Hall.

A wealthy cloth merchant, Ranald Graham (right, created Viscount Preston in the Peerage of Scotland in 1681, died 1689) bought the Nunnington estate in 1655, and it remained in the family until the mid-18th century when the direct Graham line became extinct. Sublet and allowed to deteriorate, it was offered up for sale in 1839 in a semi-derelict state, and bought by William Rutson (1791-1867) whose family had made their fortune through colonial trade and slavery.

The five children of Susan and Peter Clive and their cousin Michael in the Oak Hall at Nunnington Hall.

Nunnington Hall was inherited by Margaret Fife (née Rutson, the great-niece of William Rutson) in 1920, and she set about the renovation of the Hall with her husband, Colonel Ronald D’Arcy Fife, funding the project from the sale of another Rutson property, Newby Wiske near Northallerton. One of their adopted daughters, Susan Clive, raised her family at Nunnington Hall, until moving to a house in the village.

I first visited Nunnington Hall in the summer of 1968, but recall very little of that visit, since only a few rooms were open to the public, and then only twice a week. It was only after the family vacated the Hall that the National Trust opened more of the house to the public, and more frequently.

In 2013, Steph and I stopped off on our way back south after visiting family in Newcastle.

Unlike Worcestershire where we lived until 2020, there are just a few National Trust properties near our home (since 2020) here in the northeast. And not all open for the Christmas season. I wrote briefly about our various Christmas visits after last year’s to Ormesby Hall near Middlesbrough.

So, on Friday last, we made the 162 mile round trip from North Tyneside to enjoy Nunnington Hall decorated in its Christmas finery. Being the first day of the Hall’s Christmas season (only each Friday to Sunday until just before Christmas), it was a delight to see many of the rooms brightly lit with Christmas trees and candles.

Let me take you on a brief tour of the house in 2013 and last Friday, highlighting some of the features that particularly caught my attention. A photo album of all the photos taken during both visits can be viewed here.

The entrance was suitably decorated for the Hall’s Christmas season, and we headed straight for the tearoom (with waitress service, unusual for National Trust tearooms) for a welcome cup of coffee before beginning the tour.

A kitchen or a Great Hall in earlier centuries, by 1921 the Stone Hall had become the entrance hall on the west facade of the building. One wall is hung with shooting trophies (mainly antelope of one species or another), with the skins of big cats on another. A huge fireplace (which was lit on our recent visit) dominates a third wall. And for Christmas, there was a tall (maybe 15 foot) tree, a Fashionable Victorian theme, with one of the volunteers (dressed as a butler) offering a small sherry or cranberry juice to each new visitor.

The Smoking Room, a few steps up from the Stone Hall, was Lord Preston’s bedchamber in the 17th century, but was adopted by Colonel Fife. The walls were painted Georgian green by Margaret Fife, and its theme was an indulgent Georgian Christmas. On our 2013 visit, this room was set up as a small dining room. And beyond the main room, in a small withdrawing room, the walls are covered in 18th century prints, and the ceiling decorated with original coats of arms.

From the Smoking Room, you step into the large Oak Hall with its stone floor, stone fireplace, and elegant, low-rise staircase leading to the first floor. This was an open courtyard in Tudor times, but was enclosed by Lord Preston in the late 17th century. There was a Tudor feast theme last Friday.

There are several paintings of William Rutson and his horses.

L: William Rutson’s groom and horses; R: William Rutson on a grey hunter

Hanging on the walls above the staircase are three tapestries, 300 years old, and another one in the Sitting Room.

During Margaret Fife’s time, the Sitting Room was the main family room, with a balcony overlooking the walled garden, with its terraces and orchard. Peacocks also strutting around the grounds. The Christmas theme was 1980s Party Time.

One feature which caught my attention in 2013 (and still prominently on display) was the superb set of porcelain figurines—Chelsea I presume—on the mantelpiece. How I would like to own a set like that, but my pockets aren’t deep enough!

In Margaret Fife’s bedroom and dressing room on the first floor, there is a charming (but controversial) portrait of her as a young girl, hanging above the fireplace.

Colonel Fife had his own bedroom, and particular feature that you can’t miss is the Chinese-style wallpaper, decorated with birds, flowers, and fruits.

A child’s bedroom, decorated with a tree and toys completed the bedrooms that were open. Wood-paneled, I seem to remember from our 2013 visit that there were carvings or graffiti in the wood made by Parliamentarian soldiers in the 17th century.

Schoolchildren from the nearby Slingsby Community Primary School had created the snowman exhibit in another bedroom.

The Nursery had a 1940s Rationing theme. The walls were covered with another impressive wallpaper, and a delightful doll’s house stood in one corner.

The attic floor under the eaves houses a couple of exhibitions. One of these is the permanent home of a collection of miniature rooms, donated to the National Trust by Londoner, Mrs Carlisle (known as ‘Kitty’). The models are truly exquisite in the amount of detail, even handwriting on miniature letters. The other exhibition, Fields, Folds, and Farming Life on display last week was a collection of photos and videos of farming life in Yorkshire by photographer Valerie Mather.

After a short (and rather muddy) walk around the garden, our visit to Nunnington Hall came to an end, and we headed back home.

But with just one other feature in the landscape to find: the Kilburn White Horse (map)The origin of the horse is disputed, but it appeared in November 1857, cut into the hillside above the village of Kilburn. Some credit the local schoolmaster and his pupils. The top soil was scraped away, and the horse covered in limestone chippings. It has needed regular maintenance over the years.

The Kilburn White Horse can be clearly seen from a distance, particularly from the A19 between Thirsk and York.

We made our way down the escarpment to the car park just below the horse, but from there you can only see the horse’s legs and part of its body.

I can’t finish this post without mentioning the spectacular climb into the Howardian Hills.

We had traveled south from North Tyneside on the A19 as far as Thirsk, where we took the A170 towards Scarborough. Just under six miles east of Thirsk, the A170 ascends the notorious Sutton Bank, with its 25% incline and hairpin bends. It’s such a challenge for some vehicles that caravans are banned from this stretch of road and have to find an alternative route on to the moors. Even HGVs struggle up the Bank.

Here’s some footage I made of the ascent and descent (almost 5 minutes, and available in HD).

 

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We walked to Scotland last Thursday

Well, I might be exaggerating a wee bit. We didn’t walk all the way there. Just the last half mile. Let me explain.

Thursday was, for the first time in many days, bright and sunny although much cooler than we have enjoyed of late. And while the weather has been better here on the coast (we live just a few miles inland), it has been much more unpredictable in the hills, and rainy on many days.

However, with a more promising forecast we decided to head off to the Cheviots, and specifically to Chew Green Roman fort and encampment (built around 79 AD) close to the border with Scotland, and a location we have visited twice before.

At its nearest, the Scottish border is only 40 miles or so (65 km) northwest as the crow flies from our home in North Tyneside, or about 55 miles or so by road. This is the route we took.

Chew Green is just beyond the ‘end’ of the road near the headwaters of the River Coquet, and the drive there (on a very narrow road) beyond Alwinton winds its way through beautiful Upper Coquetdale.

This video, of the drive from Alwinton to Chew Green lasts over 41 minutes. You can double the playback  speed (without affecting your appreciation of the marvellous landscapes) by clicking on the Settings button.

The road does continue beyond Chew Green. However, it passes over the Otterburn Ranges, an area of the Northumberland National Park controlled by the Ministry of Defence where troops are trained and live firing takes place. Access is often restricted, as it was on Thursday, when the red flags are raised.

Nevertheless, we just drove a few hundred meters beyond the parking spot, climbing the hill facing Chew Green to get a better view of the embankments of the camp, something we had not done on either of our previous visits.

Leaving the parking spot on foot, we headed west (just south of the fort/encampment) until we reached a dip in the landscape with a small burn (and tributary of the River Coquet, if not the beginnings of the river itself), crossing over a stile, and stepping into Scotland.

No border patrols here, although for centuries past this was a most contentious border, and the location of many cross-border raids and cattle rustling.

That’s Scotland beyond the dip in the landscape in this video. It’s a pity there was no post along the path to indicate exactly where you pass from one nation into the other.

One foot in England, the other in Scotland.

Then we walked up over the fort, and made our way back to the car. Dere Street, one of the most important Roman roads that connected Eboracum (York) with Roman forts beyond Hadrian’s Wall and over the border into Scotland, runs right beside Chew Green. It’s remarkable that the camp’s embankments are so well preserved, after 1900 years.

At its headwaters here in the Cheviots, the River Coquet is no more than a babbling brook.

But within a short distance from Chew Green, it becomes a substantial river (as you can see in this video of the return journey down the valley) wending its way east to the North Sea at Amble.

Incidentally, most of the sheep in the videos are the local Cheviot breed, with some horned Scottish blackface.

 

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Potatoes have no special chemistry to induce romance . . . but they brought us together

Saturday 13 October 1973, 11:30 am
Lima, Peru

Fifty years ago today, Steph and I were married at the town hall (municipalidad) in the Miraflores district of Lima, where we had an apartment on Avenida José Larco. Steph had turned 24 just five days earlier; it would be my 25th in the middle of November.

Municipalidad de Miraflores, Lima

It was a brief ceremony, lasting 15 minutes at most, and a quiet affair.  Just Steph and me, and our two witnesses, John and Marian Vessey. And the mayor (or other official) of course.

John, a plant pathologist working on bacterial diseases of potato, was a colleague of ours at the International Potato Center (CIP) in Lima, who had joined the center a few months before I arrived in Lima in January 1973.

Enjoying pre-lunch drinks with Marian and John at ‘La Granja Azul‘ restaurant at Santa Clara – Ate, on the outskirts of Lima.

The newly-weds.

It’s by chance, I suppose, that Steph and I got together in the first place. We met at the University of Birmingham, where we studied for our MSc degrees in Conservation and Utilization of Plant Genetic Resources.

Steph arrived in Birmingham in September 1971, just after I had finished the one-year course. I was expecting imminently to head off to Peru where I had been offered a position at CIP to help curate the large collection of native potato varieties in the CIP genebank. So, had I flown off to South America then, our paths would have hardly crossed.

But fate stepped in I guess.

My departure to Peru was delayed until January 1973. So I registered for a PhD with renowned potato expert Professor Jack Hawkes (right, head of the Department of Botany and architect of the MSc course), and began my research in Birmingham while CIP’s Director General, Richard Sawyer, negotiated a financial package from the British government to support the center’s research for development agenda, and my work there in particular.

It must have been early summer 1972 that Steph and I first got together. Having completed the MSc written exams in May, Steph began a research project on reproductive strategies in three legume species, directed by Dr Trevor Williams (who had supervised my project a year earlier on lentils). And she completed the course in September.

By then, she had successfully applied for a scientific officer position at the Scottish Plant Breeding Station in Edinburgh (SPBS, now part—after several interim phases—of the James Hutton Institute in Dundee), as Assistant Curator of the Commonwealth Potato Collection. But that position wasn’t due to start until November.

Our VW Variant in Peru, around May 1973 – before receiving a Peruvian registration plate.

In early November I took delivery of a left-hand-drive Volkswagen for shipment to Peru. On a rather dismal Birmingham morning, we loaded up the VW with Steph’s belongings and headed north to Edinburgh. She returned to Birmingham in mid-December for her graduation.

Then, just after Christmas 1972, we met up in a London for a couple of days before I was due to fly out to Lima.

At that time we could not make any firm commitments although we knew that—given the opportunity—we wanted to be together.

Again fate stepped in. On 4 January 1973, Jack Hawkes and I flew to Lima. Jack had been asked to organize a planning conference to guide CIP’s program to collect and conserve native Andean potato varieties and their wild relatives.

Potato varieties from the Andes of Peru.

While I stayed in a small hotel (the Pensión Beech, in the San Isidro district) until I could find an apartment to rent, Jack stayed with Richard Sawyer and his wife Norma. And it was over dinner one evening that Jack mentioned to Richard that I had a ‘significant other’ in the UK, also working on potato genetic resources, and was there a possibility of finding a position at CIP for her. Richard mulled the idea over, and quickly reached a decision: he offered Steph a position in the Breeding and Genetics Department to work with the germplasm collection.

With that, Steph resigned from the SPBS and made plans to move to Lima in July, with us planning to get married later on in the year.

In the CIP germplasm screenhouses in La Molina. Bottom: with Peruvian potato expert Ing. Carlos Ochoa.

A couple of weeks after I arrived in Peru, I found an apartment in Miraflores at 156 Los Pinos (how that whole area has changed in the intervening 50 years), and that’s where Steph joined me.

In our Los Pinos apartment, Miraflores in July 1973.

A few weeks later we found a larger apartment, nearby at 730 Avda. Larco, apartment 1003. Very interesting during earthquakes!

Around mid-August 1973 we began the paperwork (all those tramites!) to marry in Peru. Not as simple as you might think, but on reflection perhaps not as difficult as we anticipated.

While we were allowed to post marriage banns in the British Embassy, we had to announce our intention to marry in the official Peruvian government gazette, El Peruano, and one of the principal daily broadsheets (El Comercio if memory serves me right), and have the police visit us at our apartment to verify our address. I think we also had to have blood tests as well. This all took time, but everything was eventually in place for us to set the wedding date: 13 October.

Some friends wanted to give us a big wedding, but Steph said she just wanted an intimate, quiet day. So that’s what we organized.

In the week leading up to our wedding, we had to present all the notarised documents at the municipality. After the ceremony, we signed the registry, hand-written in enormous volumes (or tomos). There was a bank of clerical staff, all with their Parker fountain pens, inscribing the details of each wedding in their respective tomo. A week later we collected our Constancia de Matrimonio (with some errors) which detailed in which tomo (No. 83, page 706) our marriage had been recorded, as well as photocopies (now sadly faded) of the actual page.

My work, collecting potatoes, took me all over the Andes; not so much for Steph who only made visits every other week or so to CIP’s highland experiment station (at over 3000 masl) in Huancayo east of Lima, and a six hour drive away.

However, Steph and I explored Peru together as much as we could, taking our VW on several long trips, to the north and central Andes, and south to Lake Titicaca. We also delayed our honeymoon until December 1973, flying to Cusco for a few days, and spending one night at Machu Picchu.

At Machu Picchu, December 1973.

In May 1975, we returned to the UK for seven months for me to complete my PhD, returning to Lima just before New Year.

With Jack Hakes and Trevor Williams at my PhD graduation on 12 December 1975 at the University of Birmingham.

Christmas Day 1976 in Turrialba.

Then, in April 1976, we moved to Costa Rica where I worked on potato diseases and production, based in Turrialba, some 70 km east of the capital city, San José. Under the terms of our visas, Steph was not permitted to work in Costa Rica. I became regional representative for CIP’s Region II (Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean) in August 1997 when my colleague, Oscar Hidalgo (who was based in Toluca, Mexico) headed to North Carolina to begin his PhD studies.

Our elder daughter Hannah Louise was born in San José in April 1978. Later that year, we took our first home leave in the UK and both sets of grandparents were delighted to meet their first granddaughter.

24 April 1978 in the Clinica Santa Rita, San José, Costa Rica.

On home leave in the UK in September 1978.

With Steph’s parents Myrtle and Arthur (top) in Southend-on-Sea, and mine, Lilian and Fred, in Leek.

We spent five happy years in Costa Rica before moving back to Lima at the end of November 1980, and began making plans to move to the Philippines by Easter 1981.

However, in early 1981, a lectureship was created at the University of Birmingham, in the Department of Plant Biology (formerly Botany, where Steph and I had studied), for which I successfully applied. We left CIP at the end of March and had set up home in Bromsgrove (about 13 miles south of Birmingham in north Worcestershire) by the beginning of July.

4 Davenport Drive

A decade after we were married, we were already a family of four. In May 1982 Philippa Alice was born in Bromsgrove.

30 May 1982 in Bromsgrove hospital.

During the 1980s we enjoyed many family holidays, including this one in 1983 on the canals close to home.

Many other family holidays followed, in South Wales, in Norfolk, on the North York Moors, and in 1989, in the Canary Islands.

In Tenerife, Canary Islands in July 1989. Steph is carrying the binoculars that I bought around 1964 and which I still possess.

Hannah (left) and Philippa (right) thrived at local Finstall First School, shown here on their first day of school in 1983 and 1987, respectively.

My work at Birmingham kept me very busy (perhaps too busy), but I particularly enjoyed working with my graduate students (many of them from overseas), and my undergraduate tutees.

All in all, it looked like Birmingham would be a job for life. That was not to be, however. By the end of the 1980s, academic life had sadly lost much of its allure, thanks in no small part to the policies and actions of the Thatcher government. We moved on.

By 1993, we had already been in the Philippines for almost two years, where I had been hired (from July 1991) as head of the Genetic Resources Center (GRC) at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in Los Baños, some 65 km south of Manila in the Philippines. I moved there ahead of Steph and the girls (then aged 13 and nine) who joined me just after Christmas 1991.

Meeting fellow newcomer and head of communications, Ted Hutchcroft and his wife at our joint IRRI welcoming party in early 1992.

In 1993 I learned to scuba dive, a year after Hannah, and it was one of the best things I’ve ever done. Philippa trained a couple of years later.

Getting ready to dive, at Arthur’s Place, Anilao, Philippines in January 2003.

Steph was quite content simply to snorkel or beachcomb, and we derived great pleasure from our weekends away (about eight or nine a year) at Anilao, 92 km south from Los Baños. In fact, our weekends in Anilao were one of our greatest enjoyments during the 19 years we spent in the Philippines.

Steph became an enthusiastic beader and has made several hundred pieces of jewelry since then. In Los Baños we had a live-in helper, Lilia, and so in the heat of Los Baños, Steph was spared the drudgery of housework or cooking, and could focus on the hobbies she enjoyed, including a daily swim in the IRRI pool, and looking after her garden and orchids.

Steph and Lilia on our last day in IRRI Staff Housing #15 on 30 April 2010.

Hannah and Philippa completed their school education at the International School Manila (ISM) in 1995 and 1999 respectively, both passing the International Baccalaureate Diploma with commendably high scores.

Graduation at ISM: Hannah and Philippa with their friends from around the world.

Traveling to Manila each day from Los Baños had not been an easy journey, due to continual roadworks and indescribable traffic. It was at least two hours each way. By the time Philippa finished school in 1999, the buses were leaving Los Baños at 04:30 in order to reach Manila by the start of classes at 07:15.

In October 1996, Hannah started her university degree in psychology and social anthropology at Swansea University in the UK. However, after two years, she transferred to Macalester College, a highly-rated liberal arts college in St Paul, Minnesota, graduating summa cum laude in psychology and anthropology in May 2000. She then registered for a PhD in industrial and organizational psychology at the University of Minnesota. Philippa began her BSc degree in psychology at the prestigious University of Durham, UK later that same year, in October.

Hannah’s graduation in May 2000 at Macalester College, with Philippa and Michael (Hannah’s boyfriend, now her husband).

Once Hannah and Philippa had left for university, IRRI paid for return visits each year, especially at Christmas.

Christmas 2001. Michael joined Hannah for the visit.

While my work took me outside the Philippines quite often, Steph and I did manage holidays together in Hong Kong/Macau and Australia. And, together with Philippa, we toured Angkor Wat in Cambodia in December 2000.

But Steph also accompanied me on work trips to Laos, Bali, and Japan. She also joined me and my staff when we visited the rice terraces in northern Luzon in March 2009.

Enjoying a cold beer as the sun goes down, near Sagada, northern Luzon, Philippines.

Overlooking the Batad rice terraces in northern Luzon in March 2009.

However, we always used our annual home leave allowance to return to the UK, stay in our home in Bromsgrove (which we had purposely left unoccupied), and meet up with family and friends.

Philippa was awarded a 2:1 degree in July 2003, and the graduation ceremony took place inside Durham Cathedral. She then headed off to Vancouver for a year, before returning to the UK and looking for a job, eventually settling in Newcastle upon Tyne where she has lived ever since.

Outside Durham Cathedral where Phil received her BSc degree from the university’s Chancellor, the late Sir Peter Ustinov.

Hannah married Michael in May 2006, and finished her PhD. We flew to Minnesota from the Philippines.

15 May 2006, at the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory in Como Park, St Paul.

PhD graduation at the University of Minnesota.

Philippa registered for a PhD in biological psychology at Northumbria University in Newcastle upon Tyne where she was already working.

Professionally, the period between 2001 and my retirement in 2010 was the most satisfying. I had changed positions at IRRI in May, moving from GRC to join the institute’s senior management team as Director for Program Planning and Communications (DPPC). I worked with a great team, and we really made an impact to increase donor support for IRRI’s research program. However, by 2008/9 when my contract was up for renewal, Steph and I had already agreed not to continue with IRRI, but take early retirement and return to the UK.

But not quite yet. IRRI’s Director General, Bob Zeigler, persuaded me to stay on for another year, and organize the celebrations for the institute’s 50th anniversary. Which I duly did, and had great fun doing so.

But as our retirement date approached in April 2010, I was honored by the institute’s Board of Trustees with a farewell party (despedida) coinciding with the 50th anniversary of the very first Board meeting in April 1960.

14 April 2010 – IRRI’s 50th celebration dinner and our despedida.

Friday 30 April was my last day in the office.

With my DPPC friends. L-R: Eric, Corinta, Zeny, me, Vhel, and Yeyet.

We flew back to the UK two days later, arriving on Monday 3 May and taking delivery of our new car, a Peugeot 308, the following day.

Philippa and Andi flew off to New York in October 2010 and were married in Central Park. She graduated with her PhD in December.

By 2013 we had been married for four decades, and were well-settled into retirement, enjoying all the opportunities good weather gave us to really explore Worcestershire and neighboring counties, especially as National Trust and English Heritage members. And touring Scotland in 2015, Northern Ireland in 2017, Cornwall in 2018, East Sussex and Kent in 2019, and Hampshire and West Sussex in 2022.

We were, by then, the proud grandparents of three beautiful boys and a girl.

Callum Andrew (August 2010) – St Paul, Minnesota

Elvis Dexter (September 2011) – Newcastle upon Tyne

Zoë Isobel (May 2012) – St Paul, Minnesota

Felix Sylvester (September 2013) – Newcastle upon Tyne

And how could we ever forget a very special day in February 2012, when Steph, Philippa and my former colleague from IRRI, Corinta joined me at Buckingham Palace for an investiture.

Receiving my OBE from King Charles III (then HRH The Prince of Wales) on 14 February 2012.

With Steph and Philippa outside the gates of Buckingham Palace.

With Corinta and Steph in the courtyard of Buckingham Palace after the investiture.

Since 2010, we have traveled to the USA each year except during the pandemic years (2020-2022), and only returning there this past May and June. We’ve made some pretty impressive road trips around the USA, taking in the east and west coasts, and all points in between with the exception of the Deep South. Just click here to find a list of those road trips.

In July 2016, a few months after I broke my leg, Hannah and family came over to the UK, and we got together with Phil and Andi and the boys for the first time, sharing a house in the New Forest.

Our first group photo as a family, near Beaulieu Road station in the New Forest, 7 July 2016. L-R: Zoë, Michael, me (still using a walking stick), Steph, Callum, Hannah, Elvis, Andi, Felix, and Philippa.

And they came over again in July 2022, to our new home in the northeast of England where we had moved from Bromsgrove in October 2020 at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic.

In our garden in Backworth, North Tyneside, August 2022.

L-R: Felix, Elvis, Zoë, and Callum, at Dunstanburgh Castle, Northumberland in August 2022.

So it’s 2023, and fifty years have passed since we married.

During our visit to the USA this past May and June, we met up with Roger Rowe and his wife Norma, along the Mississippi River at La Crosse in Wisconsin.

Roger joined CIP in 1973 as head of the Breeding and Genetics Department and was our first boss. Roger also co-supervised my PhD. So it was great meeting up with them again 50 years on.

We’ve been in the northeast just over three years now, and haven’t regretted for a moment making the move north. It’s a wonderful part of the country, and in fact has given us a new lease of life.

At Steel Rigg looking east towards the Whin Sill, Crag Lough, and Hadrian’s Wall, Northumberland, February 2022.

Steph has taken great pleasure in developing her new garden here. It’s a work in progress, and quite a different challenge from her garden in Worcestershire, discovering what she can grow and what won’t survive this far north or in the very heavy (and often waterlogged) soil.

22 August 2023

I’ve had much enjoyment writing this blog since 2012, combining my interests of writing and photography. It has certainly given me a focus in retirement. I never thought I’d still be writing as many stories, over 700 now, and approaching 780,000 words. Since returning to the UK, I’ve also tried to take a daily walk of 2-4 miles. However, that’s not been possible these past six months. A back and leg problem has curtailed my daily walk, but I’m hopeful that it will eventually resolve itself and I’ll be able to get out and about locally, especially along the famous North Tyneside waggonways.

After 50 years together, we have much to be thankful for. We’ve enjoyed the countries where we have lived and worked, or visited on vacation. Our daughters and their families are thriving. Hannah is a Senior Director of Talent Management and Strategy for one of the USA’s largest food companies, and Philippa is an Associate Professor of Biological Psychology at Northumbria University.

Sisters!

With Hannah and Michael, Callum and Zoë (and doggies Bo and Ollie, and cat Hobbes) in St Paul, MN on 18 June 2023.

With Philippa and Andi, Elvis and Felix (and doggies Rex and Noodle) on 2 September 2023.

And here we are, at South Stack cliffs, in the prime of life (taken in mid-September) when we enjoyed a short break in North Wales.

Steph with Philippa and family on her birthday on 8 October.

13 October 2023 – still going strong!

While drafting this reminiscence, I came across this article by Hannah Snyder on the Northwest Public Broadcasting website, and it inspired the title I used.

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Definitely not castles in the air . . .

Portrait in Westminster Abbey supposedly depicting Edward I, installed sometime during his reign.

King Edward I of England. Eldest son of Henry III. Born 1239, reigned 1272 to 1307.

Also known as Edward Longshanks (on account of his height, over six feet) and Hammer of the Scots.

Notwithstanding his campaigns against the Scots, Edward I left a permanent legacy of 17 castles in Wales following military campaigns against the Welsh princes.

During our recent holiday in North Wales, we took time out to visit four of these (all owned and managed by Cadw, on whose website you can find the necessary information for visiting), among the most impressive still standing today, and all of them World Heritage Sites: (1) Caernarfon, (2) Conwy, (3) Harlech, and (4) Beaumaris.

Their construction began in 1283, but one—Caernarfon Castle—was not completed until 1330, long after Edward’s death when his grandson, Edward III was already king. Situated along the coast they were presumably more easily re-supplied than if they had been built inland, like many others.

These castles are not only impressive feats of medieval engineering but also symbolic representations of English dominance over Wales. They played a significant role in shaping the political and cultural landscape of the region for centuries to come. Today, these castles stand as enduring testaments to the historical events that unfolded in North Wales during Edward I’s reign.

Behind the design and construction of these castles was master of works/architect, James of Saint George from Savoy, regarded as one of the greatest architects of the European Middle Ages.

Caernarfon Castle
Situated on the Menai Strait, Caernarfon Castle is perhaps the grandest fortress constructed by Edward I in Wales.

Begun in 1283, it took 47 years to complete, at the enormous cost of £25,000. The remains of the Roman fort Segontium (founded AD 77) are close by.

Caernarfon Castle from the southwest, across the Afon Seiont.

The castle was designed not only as a military stronghold but also as a royal residence, exemplifying Edward’s desire to display English authority in North Wales. Edward I’s fourth son (who became Edward II) was born at Caernarfon in April 1284 and later, in 1301, he was invested here as the first English Prince of Wales. Caernarfon Castle was the location, in July 1969, for the investiture of Prince Charles (now King Charles III) as Prince of Wales. Not a popular occasion for many proud Welsh.

Caernarfon’s distinctive polygonal towers and color-coded stone work make it one of the most visually striking castles in the region.

View more photos of Caernarfon Castle here.

Conwy Castle
One of the most iconic examples of Edwardian architecture, Conwy Castle, built in the remarkably short period between 1283 and 1289, stands at the mouth of the River Conwy. The castle is characterized by its twin-towered gatehouse and imposing curtain walls. Once again, James of Saint George was the master mason.

The town of Conwy was also enclosed in town walls, like at Caernarfon.

Take a look at this photo album.

Harlech Castle
Perched dramatically on a cliff overlooking the Irish Sea, Harlech Castle was strategically positioned to control the vital sea routes along the western coast of Wales.

Its design included a concentric structure, making it an architectural marvel of its time. Harlech played a significant role in the Welsh uprisings of the 15th century, becoming a symbol of Welsh resistance.

Here are a few more photos.

Beaumaris Castle 
While Beaumaris Castle was part of Edward I’s comprehensive plan to assert control over North Wales, it remained unfinished. He ran out of funds while campaigning against the Scots. So although the castle today looks like it was slighted (demolished), the towers never reached their projected height. Nevertheless, its design was highly innovative for its time, incorporating concentric walls and a water-filled moat. Beaumaris Castle is located on Anglesey.

Although the castle was never completed due to resource shortages, its architectural prowess is evident in its symmetrical layout.

This is a photo album of more Beaumaris photos.

Cadw does a great job of looking after these castles, and enhancing the visitor experience as much as possible. There’s lots of information posted everywhere.

I was surprised to find such extensive access to the castle walls and towers/turrets, from where there are excellent views over the castles and surrounding landscapes, as you can see from the photos I have posted. And the passageways inside the walls connecting the various exterior towers.

During our visit to Harlech the walls were closed because workmen were repairing the safety handrails. Just one turret (very high) was accessible there, but the climb was well worth it, with just enough space at the top for four or five people.

At Caernarfon, Cadw has constructed a viewing platform on the King’s Gate Tower (the main entrance), where the gift shop and a cafe are also located, for those unable or unwilling to tackle the walls and numerous (and narrow) tower steps.

 

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A Victorian in Tudor clothing . . .

Speke Hall, a National Trust property on the eastern outskirts of Liverpool (right next to Liverpool John Lennon Airport, built on former Speke estate land) is a typical half-timbered, moated Tudor manor house. Although the moat has long since dried up.

However, much of the interior is—to all intents and purpose—Victorian.

Speke Hall is a late Elizabethan house, completed by Edward Norris (son of Sir William Norris, who had begun the build) in 1598. Although, at the rear of the house, another gate also displays the date 1605.

The main entrance to Speke Hall, showing the 1598 date.

The rear of the house, with an arched stone gateway with the date 1605.

Being short on time during our visit (we’d stopped off on our way home from holiday in North Wales), we took the guided tour and missed some of the rooms that remain closer to their Tudor origins. Only in one bedroom that we viewed, above the main entrance, was there a fireplace with clear Tudor craftsmanship.

The house is also a tale of two families: the Norris family that built the house and lived there for generations; and the Watt family that purchased the Speke estate in 1795. Both the Norrises and Watts made their fortunes from the transatlantic slave trade and plantations in the Caribbean.

There were a number of tenants over the centuries, the most prominent being Frederick Leyland (right), a Liverpool shipping magnate who lived at Speke for a decade from 1867, while the current owner, Adelaide Watt (1857-1921) was living in Scotland until she came of age and could inherit the estate.

There’s a nice potted history of the hall and its inhabitants on the National Trust website.

It was Leyland who refurbished the Speke interior in heavy and dark Victorian Gothic style.

He also patronised artists like Dante Gabriel Rossetti and James McNeil Whistler (of Whistler’s Mother painting fame). I’m not sure if William Morris (of the Arts and Crafts Movement) was actually involved directly with the decoration of the passageway and two rooms, but three of his wallpaper designs were hung there. We’ve also seen Morris designs at Wightwick near Wolverhampton, and Standen House in West Sussex.

Daisy design – original that has deteriorated
Daisy design – refurbished
Fruit design
Trellis design

After Leyland’s tenancy came to an end, Adelaide Watt (right) returned to Speke, and although only a young woman (around 21 years of age, and unmarried) set about running the estate herself, and introducing numerous innovations to make the estate more productive.

She immersed herself in every detail of the estate’s management. Today we’d view her as the archetypal micromanager, perhaps almost a termagant. But the estate thrived.

In her will Adelaide named three members of the Norris family as estate trustees (who sold off land to Liverpool corporation), with the proviso that the estate would transfer to the National Trust after 21 years. In 1942 the estate was handed to the Trust, which took on full management from 1986.

A full album of photos can be viewed here.

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A view to Snowdonia’s foothills, and to the sea

During our recent short break in North Wales, Steph and I visited two very different gardens for the first time, Bodnant and Plas yn Rhiw, and made a quick return visit to a third (Plas Newydd on Anglesey), all managed by the National Trust.

Bodnant, a few miles south of Conwy in the river valley of the same name, is a world-famous garden home to National Collections and Champion Trees, covering around 80 acres (32 ha), and with 8 miles of trails to explore. Just click on the map below to open a larger version.

The history of Bodnant goes back 150 years or so, and is the story of the Pochin and McLaren families, who were united when Laura Pochin married Charles McLaren in 1877. Charles was ennobled in 1911 and took the name Lord Aberconway. The Aberconway family is still closely associated with the garden, and owns Bodnant House (which is not open to the public).

Like other gardens we have visited (such as Cragside in Northumberland), it never ceases to amaze me what vision the creators of these gardens had. They introduced and planted all manner of species, with many trees today reaching skywards more than 100 feet (among them various redwoods), a landscape they could only have dreamed about but never seen. It has been left to their descendants to nurture that vision alongside the National Trust.

I guess we must have arrived by about 10:30, and after enjoying a welcome cup of coffee, headed off into the garden.

Just inside the garden, beside one of the main paths, was a glorious perennial border, in full early Autumn bloom.

Given my more limited mobility over the past months, we initially decided just to walk the more accessible paths, and the various terraces that add so much magnificence to the garden, and from which there are inspiring views over the Snowdonia foothills to the west, across the other side of the Rover Conwy.

Below the west elevation of Bodnant House, there is a series of five terraces, the uppermost and another below it planted to roses. There are two large pools, a long rectangular one almost covering the length of the lowest terrace where a pavilion known as The Pin Mill (8 on the map) can be found.

Bodnant House
Pin Mill
Pin Mill

We then followed the path towards the tower known as The Poem (19), then descending to the bottom of The Dell, and crossing over the Waterfall Bridge (20).

The Dell
The Poem
The Waterfall Bridge
The Old Mill

We then walked along The Dell as far as the Old Mill (10), taking in the beautiful blue hydrangeas growing along the banks of the stream (which you can see in the video clip), before ascending towards Bodnant House and the exit.

I visited Bodnant once before, 60 or so years ago, with members of Leek Camera Club but remember very little of that excursion. I’m sure that National Trust has made great improvements in the garden with the Aberconways in the intervening decades. Our recent visit was most enjoyable.

At the tip of the Llŷn Peninsula, near the small community of Aberdaron, Plas yn Rhiw is a delightful 17th century manor house, and an estate of approximately 150 acres (61 ha).

It’s owned by the National Trust, but not open every day. As from October, it will close for the winter. So we were lucky that we found an opportunity of making our visit.

It was the home of three unmarried sisters, Eileen, Lorna and Mary Honora Keating from Nottingham, and their mother, Constance, who could trace their ancestry back to the original owners of the manor. They bought the estate in 1939. In 1946 they donated the surrounding land to the National Trust to honor the memory of their parents William (d. 1893) and mother (d. 1945). Then, in 1952, the house was given to the National Trust (although it had been open to the public before then), and continued to live there until the last sister, Lorna, died in 1981.

Honor was made an OBE in 1939 for her work with maternity and child welfare.

The sisters were passionate about the environment, and they set about refurbishing the house. The front porch overlooks a small ornamental garden, and from there to the coast and views of Cardigan Bay.

The house is like a time capsule, full of all the sisters’ belongings. Check out this photo album to view many images of the interior of the cottage.

It’s a real gem of a National Trust property and well worth making the trip along the Llŷn Peninsula (which is worth a trip in it’s own right).

On the way back to our holiday cottage, we stopped off in Aberdaron and enjoyed the view (although hazy) over Cardigan Bay, as well as along the north coast of the Llŷn Peninsula.

 

 

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Have bridge . . . will travel

Do bridges speak to your soul? They do to mine. I find them completely fascinating. Many are architecturally stunning, and wonders of engineering, apart from the odd miscalculation that can lead to catastrophic collapse, as was the case of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, Washington in 1940.

Many have stood the test of time, crossing obstacles in the landscape and connecting communities for hundreds of years.

Numerous bridges across rivers in the USA aided the westward expansion, and I wrote about many that we have seen (and crossed) in a blog posted in April 2022 (just scroll down to the section about the USA).

Some bridges, like the Golden Gate (opened 1937) in San Francisco, the Sydney Harbour Bridge (1932), or the Forth Bridge (1890) for example, have become icons in their own right.

Golden Gate (taken in 1979)
Sydney Harbour Bridge (in 2003)
Forth Bridge (in 2009)

More recent icons include the Millau Viaduct (20004) in France, or the road and rail Øresund Bridge (2000) connecting Denmark and Sweden (and featured in that excellent Scandi Noir series, The Bridge).

I’m now living in Newcastle upon Tyne, where there are several road, rail, and pedestrian bridges over the River Tyne. The iconic Tyne Bridge (1928) is home, during the nesting season, to some 700 pairs of kittiwakes, the furthest inland colony in the world.

The Millennium Bridge in Newcastle
The Tyne Bridge, Newcastle
Kittiwakes nesting on the Tyne Bridge
Kittiwakes on the nearby Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art

In the small community of Ironbridge, in Shropshire, stands a remarkable bridge over the River Severn. Erected in 1779, it was the world’s first cast iron bridge, the pieces fitting together as though constructed from wood.

While we were on holiday just over a week ago in North Wales we crossed the Menai Strait to Anglesey several times, on the Britannia Bridge that was first opened (as a tubular bridge of wrought iron to carry rail traffic only) in 1850. It was designed by Robert Stephenson, son of the great railway engineer, George Stephenson (the Father of the Railways), who was born in the small village of Wylam, Northumberland, west of Newcastle in 1781.

The Britannia Bridge today, seen from Plas Newydd, home to the Marquesses of Anglesey.

Thomas Telford

So why was the Britannia Bridge rail only to begin with? That’s because there was already a suspension road bridge, carrying the A5 trunk road, further east, designed and built by an even more famous engineer, Thomas Telford (1757-1834).

Telford was a Scottish civil engineer, who established himself as an engineer of road and canal projects in Shropshire, and designing numerous infrastructure projects in his native Scotland, as well as harbours and tunnels.

The Menai Suspension Bridge (and its ‘little brother’, the Conwy Suspension Bridge further east up the coast) was opened in 1826, as was the Conwy bridge.

It really is a marvel of early 19th century engineering, being the world’s first iron suspension bridge, 1,265 feet/305m long, with a central span of 579 feet/177m and its roadway set 98m/30m above the water to allow tall ships to sail beneath.

It was constructed from iron links, and you can appreciate its construction in the video below as we crossed the bridge. It is remarkable that it’s still open to traffic after almost 200 years, although it is currently undergoing some serious maintenance to extend its life.

Exactly the same construction method was used on the Conwy Bridge. Check out this informative National Trust video.

The three Conwy bridges from Conwy Castle.
Conwy Suspension Bridge
Entrance to the railway bridge seen from the walls of Conwy Castle

The Conwy bridge is open only to pedestrians, and is managed by the National Trust. To the west is a modern road bridge. To the east, a tubular rail bridge, also designed by Robert Stephenson, and opened in 1849.

Until 1972, the Menai Suspension Bridge was the only road link on to Anglesey.

After a major fire in 1970 caused extensive damage to the Britannia Bridge, it was reconstructed and a second deck was added above the rail level to take road traffic. That was opened in 1980. Even so, and although much wider than the Menai Suspension Bridge, it carries traffic in each direction in one lane only, reducing from dual carriageway on both sides of the bridge. And is therefore a source of considerable traffic congestion at busy times of the day.

On our way back home from North Wales, we stopped off briefly at Speke Hall on the eastern outskirts of Liverpool, right next to Liverpool John Lennon Airport. Our route in from North Wales took us over the Mersey Gateway Bridge. Opened in 2017, and spanning the River Mersey and the Manchester Ship Canal, it adds a new elegance to the local landscape.

Mersey Gateway Bridge

 

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Croeso i Gymru!

Until recently, I hadn’t been back to North Wales for decades, apart from just passing through on three occasions when traveling to Holyhead (on Anglesey) to catch the ferry to Ireland.

It was different in the late 1950s and early 60s. My parents loved camping in North Wales. It was less than 100 miles west from their home in Leek in North Staffordshire, and most summers they would head off there for a week.

Until around 1955, we enjoyed family holidays there, including my eldest brother Martin and sister Margaret. Later on, just my my elder brother Edgar and I would join Mum and Dad. I guess it must have been around 1963 that I last went camping with them. I would have been fourteen.

At Holyhead
Below Menai Strait Bridge
Walking across Menai Strait Bridge
Camping coach at Abergele
On the beach at Abergele
Wakey wakey
At Capel Curig
With Maire and Carmel Yates in Capel Curig
Morfa Bychan

Ten days ago, Steph and I traveled the 246 miles south from our home in North Tyneside to a holiday cottage just inland from the Menai Strait, and five miles from Caernarfon, to enjoy a week exploring this fascinating part of the country.

The return journey home was slightly longer as we stopped off at a National Trust property, Speke Hall, on the eastern outskirts of Liverpool. But more of that later.

Our base for the week was Hafod, a one bedroom self-catering granary cottage at Tŷ Mawr Farm, a great (and very comfortable) location for exploring the whole area. Highly recommended! The owner, Jane, also offers bed and breakfast accommodation on the farm.

This video shows our arrival at the farm, where I initially took a slightly wrong turn, before parking in front of our cottage. Entering the farm drive, you can see Yr Wyddfa (Mt Snowdon) and surrounding mountains off to the left. Yr Wyddfa is the highest peak in Wales, at 1,085 metres or 3,560 ft.

Yr Wyddfa is the peak in the center of this image, taken from the Tŷ Mawr farmyard.

On arrival, we found that Jane had left several plates of baked treats (including her excellent Welsh cakes) for us to enjoy throughout our stay.

Looking back on our holiday, it’s amazing how much we managed to pack so much into just six days, as you can see from this map. Just use the +/- buttons to view more details.

And, despite earlier forecasts, the weather behaved during the whole week – just a couple of overcast days, but mostly sunny, and even quite warm.

I’ll also be blogging about some of the places we visited in more detail.

Our National Trust visits took in Penrhyn Castle, near Bangor, Bodnant Garden, a horticultural jewel in the Conwy valley, the Conwy Suspension Bridge (built by Thomas Telford in 1826), Plas yn Rhiw, a cottage overlooking Aberdaron bay at the far western end of the Llŷn Peninsula, and we made a return visit to Plas Newydd on Anglesey to have another look at the Whistler mural and the Italian garden. We’d first visited Plas Newydd in 2017 on our way to Northern Ireland.

Penrhyn
Penrhyn
Penrhyn
Bodnant
Bodnant
Bodnant
Conwy Suspension Bridge
Conwy Suspension Bridge
Plas yn Rhiw
Plas yn Rhiw
Plas yn Rhiw
Plas Newydd
Plas Newydd
Plas Newydd

As members of English Heritage, we could use our membership to visit Cadw (the Welsh heritage protection organization) sites. And we took full advantage of that privilege.

On the way to Plas yn Rhiw, we stopped off to view a medieval farmhouse at Penarth Fawr.

In the late 13th century, King Edward I (also known as Edward Longshanks – on account of his height; reigned 1272-1307) built a string of castles along the North Wales coast as part of his campaign to subdue the Welsh. We visited four at Caernarfon (built from 1283 for almost 40 years), Conwy (1283-1287), Beaumaris (started in 1295 but never completed), all along the coast separating the mainland from Anglesey, and Harlech (1283-1289), a little further south and standing on a cliff overlooking Cardigan Bay.

Caernarfon Castle
Caernarfon Castle
Caernarfon Castle
Conwy Castle
Conwy Castle
Conwy Castle
Beaumaris Castle
Beaumaris Castle
Beaumaris Castle
Harlech Castle
Harlech Castle
The view north from Harlech Castle

Just by chance we came across two prehistoric sites on Anglesey, also managed by Cadw. On the northwest tip of the island lies Holy Island, and overlooking the Irish Sea are the remains of about 20 hut circles, dating back to the Iron Age, 2500 years ago. But there’s also evidence of ancient farmers growing wheat, oats, and barley among other crops, and keeping livestock, as long ago as 5500 years.

Holyhead Mountain Hut Circles
Holyhead Mountain Hut Circles
Holyhead Mountain Hut Circles

On the east side of the island we eventually found the celtic village of Din Lligwy, which dates from around 400 AD, at about the time the Romans were abandoning these islands.

Din Lligwy
Din Lligwy
Din Lligwy

Thomas Telford (1757-1834) was a remarkable engineer. Besides the smaller suspension bridge at Conwy, his bridge over the Menai Strait must be one of his most remarkable designs and constructions.

Opened in 1826, a marvel of early 19th century engineering, it was the world’s first iron suspension bridge, 1,265 feet/305m long, with a central span of 579 feet/177m and its roadway set 98m/30m above the water to allow tall ships to sail beneath.

It still carries traffic today, and we crossed it, but it’s also undergoing some extensive maintenance works, and only one lane was open.

In 1845, the larger Britannia Bridge carrying both road and rail traffic was constructed further west, and today is the main route on to Anglesey. Designed by renowned railway engineer Robert Stephenson (son of George), the bridge took four years to complete. It suffered a serious fire in 1970. While the main road is a dual carriageway, the bridge itself has only one in each direction, and is the cause of considerable traffic congestion during peak travel times.

And in our travels around North Wales, there were so many spectacular landscapes to admire, but so few places where we could stop and capture them photographically. But we managed some, shown on the map.

On our tour of Snowdonia National Park, we stopped off in the village of Beddgelert, to view the grave of Gelert, the faithful hound of Llywelyn ab Iorwerth (Llywelyn the Great).

According to the legend, Llywelyn returned from a hunting trip (when—unusually—he hadn’t taken Gelert along), only to find his son missing from his cradle, and the dog covered in blood. Believing that the dog had killed his son, he thrust his sword through its heart. At that moment he heard a cry and discovered his son was alive. Beside the boy was a dead wolf that Gelert had killed while saving the baby. Grief-stricken, Llywelyn buried the hound where we now find the grave.

On one of visits to Anglesey, I had to stop briefly in the small community of Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, which probably has one of the most famous railway stations in the world. And certainly the longest name.

I was there just the once, about 70 years ago. In the B&W photo below, taken around 1954, I’m the little boy on the extreme left, with my mum and her sister, my two brothers Edgar (next to me) and Martin, and sister Margaret.

Having changed our plans to tour Snowdonia on one particular day, we decided on Anglesey as the weather looked much more promising. And we weren’t disappointed, heading to the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) reserve at South Stack cliffs on the northwest tip of Holy Island, very close to the hut circles mentioned earlier.

The view over the cliffs to the lighthouse is spectacular. There are 400+ steps down the cliff to the lighthouse, and a suspension bridge over to the island on which the lighthouse stands.

Even if I didn’t have my current mobility issue, we wouldn’t have attempted visiting the island. Too many steps. But in the late 1950s, on holiday with our parents, my elder brother Edgar and I did make the climb down and up the cliff, and even climbed to the top of the lighthouse, which was open to visitors in those days.

Overlooking South Stack lighthouse
Overlooking South Stack lighthouse
On South Stack island, with the cliffs step behind my dad
At the top of the lighthouse

I remember quite distinctly that my mum (who must have been around 52 or so) being quite distressed once we had reached the top of the cliff again. I wonder how I would have felt had I made the excursion today, just short of my 75th birthday. Not good!

And besides the great views, the main reason for our visit was to see the choughs, iconic birds for the South Stack cliffs, and some of the only 300 breeding pairs in the UK. We’d first seen choughs on our visit to Cornwall at The Lizard in 2018.

We weren’t disappointed. Within a couple of minutes of our arrival in the RSPB car park, a flock of about six or seven choughs flew low overhead. And throughout the couple of hours we walked around, we had several more sightings. Impressive. And the icing on the bird cake was a flock of seventeen greenfinches perched on the telegraph wires. Greenfinches have been in serious decline in recent years, and I hardly ever see one nowadays. So to see seventeen was wonderful.

One cannot help but be impressed by the many different landscapes of North Wales: the coast, the mountains and river valleys, the lush greenness. Here are just a few views that we enjoyed, and which, with any luck, we might return to enjoy once again.

Aberdaron
Aberdaron
Looking west across the Llyn Peninsula
Beddgelert
Aber Glaslyn
Beddgelert
Beddgelert
Menai Strait and suspension bridge
South Stack lighthouse
View south towards Llyn Peninsula
South Stack lighthouse
Porth Darach
Bull Bay, Anglesey
Barmouth rail bridge
View towards Blenau Ffestiniog
View towards Blenau Ffestiniog
Upper Conwy valley
Views towards Yr Wydffa
Views towards Yr Wydffa

We decided to break our journey home a week later. It was almost 83 miles from Hafod to Speke Hall on the eastern outskirts of Liverpool (right next to Liverpool John Lennon Airport that was built on land that once belonged to the Speke estate).

On the outside it’s a Tudor building, built in 1598. But it was extensively remodelled inside during the 19th century, and from that perspective, Speke Hall is essentially Victorian. It was only ever owned by two families, the Norrises and the Watts although various tenants did live there, notably Frederick Leyland, a Liverpool shipping magnate, for a decade from 1867. It was Leyland who made most of the interior alterations.

From Speke, it was a 3 hour 15 minute (and 177 miles) drive northeast along the M62, M1, A1(M), and A19 to arrive home safe and sound just around 4:15 pm, and to enjoy a cup of tea with some more Welsh cakes provided by Jane just as we departed Tŷ Mawr.

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A significant site of Christianity in the northeast

As you exit the Tyne Tunnel south on the A19, there’s a road sign on the right, pointing left towards South Shields, Jarrow, and Hebburn on the A185, and a brown sign for Jarrow Hall and St Paul’s, with the English Heritage logo (right) prominently displayed. A road we’d not been down until last week.

St Paul’s is a part-Saxon church and ruins of a Saxon-medieval monastery, dating from the 7th century, which surely must be one of the most significant sites for early English Christianity. It has been an active site of worship for over 1300 years.

The site was excavated by the late Professor Dame Rosemary Cramp of Durham University (who died in April this year) between 1963 and 1978. Today, flat stones mark out the Anglo-Saxon monastery, and cobbles the later medieval buildings.

The church and monastery were built on land given by King Ecgfrith of Northumbria in AD 681, beside the River Don, on the south bank of the River Tyne, into which it flows (map). The community was founded by Benedict Biscop (right) an Anglo-Saxon abbot from a noble Northumbrian family, who had also founded—seven years earlier—St Paul’s twin, St Peter’s (below) on the north bank of the River Wear at Monkwearmouth (map).

Steph and I had first come across the name of Benedict Biscop when we visited the National Glass Centre in Sunderland in November 2022. In AD 674 Biscop had sought help from craftsmen from Gaul to make windows for St Peter’s, which is close by the glass center.

So why is St Paul’s so significant? Having entered the monastic life, aged seven, at Monkwearmouth around AD 680, and transferring later to St Paul’s at Jarrow, their most famous resident was Saint Bede (often known as the Venerable Bede). Although traveling to other ecclesiastical communities around the country, Bede essentially spent his life at Jarrow, and died there around AD 735. He is now buried in Durham Cathedral.

Portrait of Bede writing, from a 12th-century copy of his Life of St Cuthbert (British Library, Yates Thompson MS 26, f. 2r).

Bede is considered one of the most important teachers and writers of the early medieval period, his most famous work being Ecclesiastical History of the English People written about AD 731. In 1899, Pope Leo XIII declared him a Doctor of the Church, a rare accolade indeed.

So what is there to see at Jarrow¹? St Paul’s was dedicated on 23 April 685, but the only surviving Saxon section is the chancel.

The Victorian north door, with west door (and main entrance today) on the right.

The rest was added or refurbished by the Victorian architect Sir George Gilbert Scott in the 1860s. In the nave of the church the foundations of the original church can also be seen in a window placed in the floor.

The Anglo-Saxon chancel on the right. A belfry was added in the 12th century.

Click on the image below to open a larger version.

The dedication stones can be seen above the arch leading into the chancel which is the only surviving section of the original Saxon church.

The ruins alongside the church are quite extensive and date mostly from the 11th century. And, like all other ecclesiastical communities it suffered during the Dissolution of the Monasteries during the reign of Henry VIII. Here is a selection of some of the photos I took during our visit. I have put all of them (including images of the English Heritage information boards) in this photo album.

Northumbria was certainly a cradle of Christianity in England. To the south of St Paul’s and St Peter’s stand Finchale Priory and Durham Cathedral on the banks of the River Wear. North and northeast in the heart of the Northumberland landscape stand at least two medieval chapels at Edlingham (dedicated to St John the Baptist) and Heavenfield (dedicated to St Oswald), and the early Christian pilgrimage site of Lady’s Well, Holystone.

St Jon’s Anglo-Saxon church, Edlingham

¹ I must take this opportunity to recognise the very friendly and knowledgeable volunteers inside St Paul’s who made us feel most welcome.

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An oasis of tranquillity . . . and statues

It really is! Standing at the heart of Crook Hall Gardens along the bank of the River Wear in Durham, it’s hard to believe you are only a short distance from the center of a bustling city. Peaceful hardly describes it. Just the occasional rumble as trains arrive at or depart from Durham railway station just to the north.

The River Wear alongside Crook Hall Gardens.

Since we returned from our trip to Minnesota towards the end of June, there have been few opportunities, weather-wise, for any excursions. I can’t remember when we last experienced such a dismal July (after all the hot dry weather of June); it’s been so cold and wet.

Anyway, the forecast for yesterday seemed hopeful, so we decided to make the short, 22 mile and 30 minute drive south to Durham to take in Crook Hall Gardens. The Trust acquired the property in 2022, and if I understood correctly, it was opened to the public for the first time in March this year.

Crook Hall has its own car park, free for National Trust members, that really is a blessing in a city where parking is at a premium, and not cheap. We arrived around 10:20, and headed immediately to the cafe for a refreshing Café Americano.

The gardens have been there for many centuries. In fact there is a 14th century medieval hall (which is open to the public) adjoining an 18th century Georgian house overlooking a beautiful walled garden.

Crook Hall was a family home since the 1300s, and occupied over the centuries by several families who stamped their mark on the property. Originally it was the home of the Billingham family for 300 years from 1372. Between 1834 and 1858 it was rented by the Raine family. Canon James Raine (right, 1791-1858) was a historian and librarian at nearby Durham Cathedral. He died at Crook Hall.

By 1979 the property was essentially derelict, but was taken on by Mary and John Hawgood who rescued it from oblivion. Mary believes she saw The White Lady of Crook Hall in 1989. The Hawgoods moved on in 1995 when it was sold to Maggie and Keith Bell, and Crook Hall became a wedding venue, with the gardens open to the public on occasion.

With the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, the Bell’s wedding business collapsed, and in 2020 Crook Hall was put up for sale. Then, in stepped the National Trust – thankfully.

Here’s a potted history of Crook Hall from a 2020 article in The Northern Echo.

The gardens, which cover about 10 acres (or 4 ha), comprise a series of interconnected gardens, each with their own character, are a credit to the National Trust garden staff and volunteers.

Being mid-summer, many of the flower beds were in full bloom, although roses and some others were past their best. Notwithstanding, the gardens were a delight for the spirit, and by the looks on the faces of other visitors (it was quite busy considering) they also felt the same way.

A path leads up the garden from the entrance and cafe, and immediately on the right is a cotoneaster maze planted in 2000. We gave that a miss, heading instead for the Solar Wing Garden and the Walled Garden.

Entrance to the maze
Just a hint . . .
The footpath leading up into the garden.
Wild flower beds alongside the path
Looking back towards the entrance and cafe.

I really do like the style of planting adopted at Crook Hall, with so many different species clustered together to provide a kaleidoscope of color.

Entrance to the Solar Wing garden
Who’s smiling at who?

Adjacent to the medieval hall is a second-hand bookshop in the Georgian house, and on one wall, some of the brightest—and botanical—wallpaper I have ever seen.

Passing through a small courtyard (with a small fountain and yet another statue) we headed towards the Moat Pond at the top of the garden. The pond itself is a relatively new feature, created in 1998 beside what was a 14th century defensive dry ditch.

Turning back towards the entrance, there is a series of four gardens: the Silver and White Garden (dating from 1983); the Orchard; the Shakespeare Garden (with Will observing the garden from a corner); and finally the Cathedral Garden, with its magnificent views towards the city and Durham Castle and Cathedral. There’s also a Wooded Glade.

In the Wooded Glade

As you exit the Cathedral Garden and turn towards the maze, a side path leads to a pebble garden. Also there are informal beds of wild flowers.

Ever since we noted, in the National Trust Handbook for 2023, that there was a new property in Durham, we’ve been waiting for an appropriate day to visit. Although the weather had been forecast as showery, we only experienced (for just a short while) threatening black clouds overhead, but apart from that, a bright and sunny—and for once, warm—day. We shall return.

I have posted a full album of photos here.

 

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The walled garden at Wallington

Wallington Hall overlooks the Northumberland countryside near Cambo (map). It was remodelled in the Palladian style between 1738 and 1746 from an earlier William and Mary house (built around 1688) for Sir Walter Calverley Blackett (right, 1707-1777) by the architect Daniel Garrett. It is believed that renowned landscape architect Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown (1715-1783, who was born in nearby Kirkharle and went to school in Cambo) advised Sir Walter on the location of the walled garden (3 on the map below), and perhaps even designed the Owl House (2) there.

After Sir Walter’s death in 1777, Wallington was bequeathed to his sister Julia’s family, the Trevelyans, and it remained in the family until 1942, when it was gifted to the National Trust.

Since returning from the USA in mid-June, the weather in the UK has been decidedly unsettled. So we have grabbed every good weather opportunity to get out and about. Unfortunately, due to my reduced mobility these days, I’m unable to walk the distances that we have enjoyed in the past. But provided my pain medication kicks in appropriately, then I can manage a relatively short walk. Around a mile or so is possible.

With that in mind, we headed to Wallington with the aim of enjoying the walled garden in mid-summer. And to compare the garden today with what it was like a decade ago.

My first impression was that the walled garden today is much brighter, so to speak, with a new fiery border along the terrace in front of the Edwardian conservatory and below the Owl House.

Here are some of the plants in that bed. What a magnificent sight to welcome visitors to the garden.

Until quite recently, the conservatory was open to visitors, indeed as recently as our visit there in mid-December 2021, but it is now closed while plans are drawn up for its refurbishment. Which isn’t going to come cheap. Perhaps it was damaged in one of the winter storms that affected the estate.

Ten years on, the garden has developed a lot, and is a credit to the hard work of the staff gardeners and volunteers. Here are two images, taken from more or less the same spot, ten years apart, looking from the water terrace at the top of the garden eastwards down the garden. In the 2013 image, the conservatory and Owl House can be clearly seen.

At least one new ‘garden room’ has been created, surrounded (like the others) by trimmed cedar hedges.

And more, it seemed to me, has been made of the small pond area at the bottom of the garden.

On the south side of the garden, another large set of beds has evolved over the decade. Here are images from 2013 and last week.

The colors are more muted this year, with the fiery varieties moved to the conservatory terrace. Here is some of the 2023 planting.

One of the gardeners explained that it’s a never-ending task to plant and replant all these beds. He mentioned that in the autumn they plant several thousand bulbs, so I think a visit next spring is on the cards to see the early color.

The terrace fountain area at the top of the garden, near the entrance, was ‘dry’ on our latest visit (bottom image below). Normally the small pond is full, and water runs through a rill across the terrace.

I believe this part of the garden is fed from a large lily pond outside the walls. It looked as though there had been work on the earth dam at the eastern end, and the water level was low. Hence the dry fountain inside the garden.

The walled garden is a 15 minute or so walk from the house through the East Wood. Alongside the lake (above) there’s a new addition: a carved owl, from the tree trunk of one of the trees brought down during Storm Arwen in November 2021. There’s apparently another carving, but we didn’t manage to find it. Both are by tree sculptor Tommy Craggs from County Durham.

There are lots of owls at Wallington. Not only on the roof apex of the Owl House (seen in several of the images above), but also adorning the gate posts of the courtyard at the rear of the house.

The owl features in the Calverley family crest, Calverley (a West Yorkshire name) being the former surname of Sir Walter Blackett mentioned at the beginning of this post.

After being cooped up inside for a couple of weeks because of the unseasonably wet and cool weather, it really was a pleasure to return to Wallington. Just 23 miles and around 40 minutes from home, Wallington is sure to be on our National Trust itinerary year after year, season after season.

 

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Time out in Minnesota: 5. Beer, brats, and sizzling steaks

We’ve just returned from a very relaxing vacation in Minnesota, visiting our elder daughter Hannah and her family: son-in-law Michael, and grandchildren Callum (almost a teenager) and Zoë (just 11).

Our last evening in Minnesota.

Since we’d decided not to make any serious road trip this visit, apart from a short, overnight stay to La Crosse in Wisconsin, about 150 miles south of the Twin Cities, I travelled light this year. No heavy DSLR camera, no laptop. In fact, for the first time, I simply used my mobile phone for both images and video clips.

When we moved north to Newcastle upon Tyne in the autumn of 2020, I acquired a new – and better – mobile that allowed me to run many of the apps that so many utilities expect everyone to deploy these days. And, of course, the Samsung model I chose had a far better resolution camera than my Chinese cheepo.

And because of my more limited mobility right now (a painful nerve inflammation affecting my lower back, legs, and feet) Steph and I stayed close to home in St Paul, only taking our usual local walks as we’ve enjoyed in previous visits when I felt up to it. Even so, close to where Hannah and Michael live there is so much to see; their house sits at the top of the Mississippi Gorge bluff.

The weather was incredible, mostly warm (hot even) and dry. Just one afternoon of rain on Michael’s birthday when we had to postpone the planned grilling until the next day.

And talking of grilling. I can’t remember a visit when Michael fired up the BBQ or the Big Green Egg so many times, or we simply ate outside, even at the various restaurants we patronised.

Our flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis-St Paul arrived on time on 29 May at around 12:30, and Hannah, Callum, and Zoë were waiting at the airport to meet us. Navigation through US Immigration, baggage claim, and Customs was probably the smoothest I’ve enjoyed throughout the many decades I’ve been visiting the USA. It was actually quite a pleasant experience.

So, for us, it was early evening British Summer Time, and normally Steph and I would manage to stay awake for only an hour or two before submitting to jet lag, and finally crashing. Not this time. We both had a reasonably comfortable flight over the Atlantic in Delta Comfort+, and managed some sleep.

On arrival, it was bright and sunny and warm and, being Memorial Day, everyone was at home. So we sat in the garden, enjoying a cup of tea to begin with, followed (in my case) by a couple of the fantastic local beers. There are so many to choose from these days. But more of that later.

Late afternoon, and Michael cranked up the BBQ and we enjoyed a very satisfying dinner of Von Hanson steaks, beer brats, and salad. So it must have been almost 9 pm that we admitted defeat, and headed to bed. I’ve never been over jet lag so quickly.

I now wish I’d taken more notice of the various beers I sampled – I could have tried a different beer for everyday of our stay, there are so many to choose from. There’s nothing quite like a cold, cold beer on a hot afternoon when the temperature is reaching 90ºF.

Less than a mile from Hannah and Michael’s home in the Highland Park area of St Paul (map), redevelopment of the 122 acre site of the former Ford Motor Company Twin Cities Assembly Plant (closed in 2011) began in 2020, now renamed Highland Bridge.

The local supermarket, Lunds & Byerlys has relocated a couple of blocks west along Ford Parkway to Highland Bridge. On the first floor they have opened The Mezz Taproom—with a terrace overlooking the new development—where you have the choice of about 20+ beers on tap, plus some wines. Michael took me there one blisteringly hot afternoon a few days after we arrived in St Paul.

It’s an interesting concept. There is no bar. With an electronic wrist tag (which opens the beer tap) you can sample as much or as little of any of the beers on offer, with a wide range of glass sizes and shapes to match. You just pay for the amounts consumed, which are electronically tallied. Simples!

Panorama of the Highland Bridge redevelopment, looking west.

The Highland Bridge redevelopment comprises commercial and residential units, including those for the elderly, and townhouses. Thoughtfully, and together with the St Paul Parks and Recreation department, the developers have created several parks with innovative water features that also act as storm drainage (when it rains in St Paul, it really rains). All parks cater for all ages, with paths, seating, and roller and skateboard parks, beach volleyball courts, and even a Little League pitch as well.

Gateway Park
Gateway Park
Gateway Park
Gateway Park
Gateway Park
Gateway Park
Highland Bridge River Plaza
Highland Bridge River Plaza
Highland Bridge River Plaza
Highland Bridge River Plaza
Highland Bridge River Plaza
Elderly care residences
Town houses

Steph and I took a wander (very slowly) through these. What an impressive development, even though I can’t say I particularly admired the architecture. The water features are already attracting a range of wildlife, and it will be interesting to see how the biodiversity increases in years to come.

Michael’s birthday celebration was postponed one day due to rain on the actual day. He smoked pork ribs on the Big Green Egg. I don’t think I have ever tasted such delicious (and meaty) ribs, that just fell off the bone.

Several years ago, Hannah and Michael adopted a lovely (but occasional crabby) rescue ginger cat called Hobbes, now about 11 years old.

Then, during the Covid lockdown, Bo (a rescue Yorkshire terrier from Alabama) joined the family, followed about 18 months later by Ollie (a combined Yorkie, Shih Tzu, and at least one another breed, also from Alabama). Ollie and me bonded very quickly.

Bo

Ollie

Earlier, I mentioned my reduced mobility during this trip. But one evening, after enjoying another fine BBQ, and with a couple of G&Ts tucked away, not to mention a glass or two of red wine, I couldn’t resist the music (just take a listen, an incredible track from Joe Bonamassa with Australian Mahalia Barnes, Riding With The Kings).

Here’s the outcome, that I very much regretted the following morning (and perhaps posting this video might come to regret for a long time to come).

Compare this with another video, taken six years earlier with a five-year-old Zoë which, given my back and legs, would have been more appropriate.

And S’Mores, of course.

What a great way to take time out . . .

 

Other blog posts in this Minnesota series:

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Time out in Minnesota: 1. Flying after four years

Every year since 2010, Steph and I have visited our elder daughter Hannah and her family in St Paul, Minnesota, one half of the Twin Cities (with Minneapolis). We made our last visit in 2019, and then the Covid-19 pandemic struck.

Travel wasn’t possible in 2020 or 2021, but last year Hannah, Michael, Callum, and Zoë flew over to the UK to spend a couple of weeks with us in the northeast of England, just outside Newcastle upon Tyne.

Even though for most people the pandemic is over, and Covid is perhaps less of a risk right now, it’s still around, so Steph and I have continued to mask when we shop at the supermarket, in fact, in any situation where we could be in close proximity with others.

So it was with some slight trepidation that I went online at the end of January and booked flights to the Twin Cities with Delta, to depart from Newcastle International Airport (NCL) on 29 May, and returning from Minneapolis-St Paul (MSP) on 19 June. And with both schedules transiting through Schipol (AMS). Until Delta made a schedule change for us, and had us returning via Detroit (DTW) and AMS.

On 29 May, we had an early start to get to the airport for our 06:05 KLM952 flight (codeshare DL9627) to AMS. I’d booked a taxi with the local Blueline Taxis for 03:45, and about 15 minutes before it arrived I received, via the company’s mobile app, details of the taxi (make of vehicle, color, registration) and name and photo of the driver. NCL is only a few miles west of Newcastle city center, and just 11 miles from our home. At that time of the morning it took only 20 minutes or so for the journey.

For the past three months I have struggled with my mobility (due to a nerve issue in my lower back, legs and feet) and have to use a walking stick for added stability. However, that has certain advantages when there are long queues at check-in. We were invited to move to the front of the queue, using the business class lane.

That’s our KLM Boeing 737-800 (registration PH-BCK) at the terminal.

We had just under an hour to wait until boarding, when a very kind member of the cabin crew saw me attempting to climb the steps into the aircraft, carrying a light piece of hand luggage at the same time. She came down to meet me and took the bag to my seat.

And there we sat for the next hour, until 07:17. Why the delay?

There was a high pressure weather system over the UK that morning, giving clear and calm conditions at NCL. In the Netherlands at Schipol on the other hand, the airport was experiencing brisk northerly breezes, and had to change the landing runways. However, one of the two used for landing into northerly winds was under maintenance, and so our flight wasn’t given permission to leave NCL until a landing slot had been confirmed. Meanwhile, the attentive crew served drinks and snacks and kept everyone well-informed of flight connection details and any complications.

Fortunately we were not affected since we had more than two hours connecting time between flights. Arriving at Gate D28 (if my memory serves me right) at the far end of the pier, we had to make our way to D3 close to the main concourse. So, by the time we’d picked up some duty free and made our way slowly to our gate, flight DL161 was already boarding, and business class passengers called forward for the 10:40 departure.

Once again, Steph and I were directed to the front of the queue and once on board, settled ourselves into seats 30A and B in the Delta Comfort+ section of the economy cabin.

We’ve travelled in Comfort + several times now, and find that it’s definitely worth the extra premium you have to pay for that little bit of extra legroom that can make a long flight more bearable. Also our seats were against a bulkhead, making access to the aisle that little bit easier.

Our aircraft, an Airbus A330-300 (registration N801NW) had been in service for around 20 years, and was beginning to show its age somewhat. The flight pulled back from the gate 36 minutes late and the taxi at AMS to runway 36L took another 15 minutes. But we were soon on our way, arriving in MSP just over 8 hours later.

Here’s a video of that flight. I was unable to take any video of the flight from NCL to AMS. Seated in row 10, there was no window!

On our return to the UK on 19 June, flight DL2619 (an Airbus A320-212, registration N368NW) departed MSP at just after 09:00, arriving in DTW at 11:35 (taking into account the 1 hour time difference from CDT to EDT).

We had four hours to kill. The McNamara Terminal at DTW is enormous, 1 mile long. There is an express tram inside the terminal—just under the roof—travelling the length of terminal and connecting to the gates at various stops. In the video below, there’s a short clip of the tram.

The Airbus A350-900 (registration N503DN) on DL132 to AMS was a new aircraft for me, and I used Skymiles to upgrade to the Delta Premium Select cabin (seats 22H and J, aisle and window).

Premium Select cabin 2-4-2 configuration on the left (that’s Steph sitting in the third row), and the economy (3-3-3 configuration) on the right.

It’s a beautiful aircraft, and its enormous Rolls-Royce Trent WXB engines swiftly launched us on our way. I think you will be impressed with the take-off in the video. On landing in AMS, after a 7 hour flight, the pilot applied the brakes rather abruptly and you can hear all manner of glass and cutlery crashing to the floor (around 12’36”).

Route of DL132 from DTW-AMS on 19/20 June 2023

Our final 1 hour connection to NCL was a KLM Cityhopper-operated flight, KL953 (codeshare DL9689) on an Embraer E190 (registration PH-EZT).

Despite all the glorious weather in the UK over the three weeks we were away, the approach into NCL from the west was cloudy, and we saw very little of the glorious Northumberland landscape until we descended through the thick cloud layer.

So, after four years, what were our impressions and experience of flying once again? As with so much air travel, it’s not the flying per se, it’s navigating the airports. And having a mobility issue, I’ve come to realise how unfriendly so many airports can be in terms of accessibility. Too many stairs, or broken elevators or walkways!

Then there are the unannounced gate changes. On our arrival in AMS at 05:35 on 20 June (Gate E6), we had to walk towards the main concourse before we found a departure board, listing our NCL flight departing from E21, exactly in the opposite direction from which we had walked, and right at the end of the pier. It was a bus gate. But after an hour waiting patiently there, I noticed that the monitor was no longer showing our flight. But there was no further information nor announcement about a gate change.

After some enquiries I discovered that we had to go all the way back to D6, and although I asked for transport from a KLM representative, she told me it wasn’t anything to do with her, and we’d have make our own way to the gate.

Our flight from AMS to MSP was comfortable and smooth, in the main. I noticed that the safety announcements no longer referred to ‘turbulence’ but ‘rough air’. Perhaps ‘turbulence’ implies much more. Our return flight in the Premium Select seats was definitely more comfortable, with an extendable leg rest.

Overall, I felt that the service offered in Delta Comfort + had declined, and was essentially the same in Premium Select (which had a printed menu, steel cutlery, and a better amenity bag and headphones). The food was the same, served in compressed (and presumably recyclable) containers, but with wooden cutlery in Delta Comfort + that was hardly usable.

Served with ice cream from Northumberland!

I’m not sure I would actually pay the extra for a Premium Select seat, but as long as Steph and I have Skymiles to ‘spend’, then I reckon we might well upgrade again in the future.

Well, that’s how we flew to the USA and returned. You’ll find out what we got up to during our three week vacation in Minnesota in the other blog posts in this series.

Other blog posts in this Minnesota series:

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Chance – but brief – encounters of a special kind

Have you ever bumped into an old acquaintance, even a relative, who you haven’t seen for a long time, just by chance?

This has happened to me on several occasions. The planets must have been in an appropriate alignment.

It was 1969. I was an undergraduate student at the University of Southampton, studying for a BSc degree in Environmental Botany and Geography. On one of the infrequent occasions that I actually used the university library (I burnt the candle at one end more than the other), I was leaving the building on my way to grab a bite to eat, when two young women who I didn’t know asked if I would like to buy a raffle ticket for the city-wide student rag events and charities.

I happily coughed up, and having thanked me, they turned to walk away. But I had to stop them. During our brief encounter, I’d had a very strong feeling that I knew one of them. Not only that, but we were related. How odd. I couldn’t let them walk away without asking.

I turned to the one with very long, almost black hair and asked: ‘Is your surname Jackson?‘ Her jaw dropped, and she replied ‘Yes‘. ‘Then‘, said I, ‘I think your name is Caroline and you’re my cousin [daughter of my dad’s younger brother Edgar]’. And, of course it was Caroline.

I had last seen her around the summer of 1961 or 1962 when my parents and I took our caravan to the New Forest (west of Southampton) and met up with my Uncle Edgar and his wife Marjorie, and cousins Timothy and Caroline.

L-R: Caroline, Timothy, me, and Barley the labrador, and my mum in the background talking to her brother-in-law Edgar, and Marjorie.

It wasn’t until the summer of 2008 that I met her again, when Steph and I joined Caroline’s eldest brother Roger at a special steam event in Wiltshire.

After Southampton, I began my graduate studies in genetic conservation and potato taxonomy at the University of Birmingham. One of my classmates the following academic year, Dave Astley, was, for several years, the research assistant of our joint PhD supervisor, Professor Jack Hawkes.

In January 1973 I joined the International Potato Center (CIP) in Lima, Peru. By August, Steph and I were settled in a larger two bedroom apartment on Avda. Larco in the commercial Miraflores district of Lima, close by the Pacific Ocean. So, the following January, Dave stayed with us for a few days before continuing on to Bolivia where he joined a potato germplasm expedition led by Jack Hawkes.

By 1976, Steph and I had moved to Costa Rica, where I was CIP’s regional leader for Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean. In early 1980, I was returning from a trip to the Dominican Republic, and transiting overnight in Miami. Joining one of the (interminable) immigration queues, I looked over to my right and, lo and behold to my surprise, Dave was just a couple of passengers ahead of me in the parallel queue. He had just flown in from the UK, on his way to Bolivia, his second expedition there. He had a connecting flight, and once we were both through immigration we only had about 15 minutes to chat before he had to find his boarding gate. What a coincidence!

During that expedition in Bolivia, Dave collected a new species of Solanum that was described by Hawkes and his Danish colleague Peter Hjerting in 1985 and named after Dave as Solanum astleyi (right, from JG Hawkes and JP Hjerting, 1989, The Potatoes of Bolivia, Fig. 22, p. 206. Oxford University Press).

In 1991, I resigned from the University of Birmingham where I had worked for the previous decade as a lecturer in the Department of Plant Biology and joined the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) in the Philippines as Head of the Genetic Resources Center (GRC)

I made my first visit to China in March 1995, accompanied by one of my colleagues in GRC, Dr Lu Bao-Rong, a Chinese national who had just completed his PhD in Sweden before starting at IRRI in 1993 as a rice taxonomist/cytogeneticist in GRC.

With my colleague, Lu Bao-Rong (middle) on the Great Wall, north of Beijing, and a staff member from the Institute of Botany, Chinese Academy of Sciences.

The first part of our trip took us to Beijing (followed by visits to Hangzhou and Guangzhou). And it was while we were in Beijing that I had my third unexpected encounter.

I think it must have been our last night in Beijing. Our hotel had a very good restaurant serving delicious Sichuan cuisine (Bao-Rong’s native province), and after dining, Bao-Rong and I retired to the hotel bar for a few beers. The bar was on a raised platform with a good view over the hotel foyer and main entrance.

I happened to casually glance towards the foyer and saw, I thought, someone I knew heading for the restaurant. Curiosity didn’t kill the cat, but I had to find out. And sure enough, it was that person: Dr Trevor Williams, who supervised my MSc dissertation on lentils in 1971, and who left the University of Birmingham in 1976 to join the International Board for Plant Genetic Resources (IBPGR) in Rome. The last time I saw Trevor as a Birmingham faculty member was in 1975 when I returned there to complete my PhD dissertation and graduate.

Graduation Day at the University of Birmingham, 12 December 1975. With my PhD supervisor Professor Jack Hawkes on my right, and MSc dissertation supervisor Dr Trevor Williams on my left.

I met him again in 1989 at IBPGR, which had approved a small grant to enable a PhD student of mine from the Canary Islands to collect seeds of a forage legume there as part of his study. And also later that same year when he attended the 20th anniversary celebration of the MSc Course on Conservation and Utilisation of Plant Genetic Resources.

Trevor Williams planting a medlar tree with Professor Ray Smallman, Dean of the Science and Engineering Faculty at the University of Birmingham.

However, by 1990, Trevor had left IBPGR and was working out of Washington, DC, helping to set up the International Network for Bamboo and Rattan (INBAR, now the International Bamboo and Rattan Organization) that was founded in Beijing in 1997. And that’s how our paths came to cross.

Lastly, I had an encounter last year with someone who I hadn’t seen for 63 years.

I was born in Congleton, Cheshire in 1948 and until 1956, when my family moved to Leek (about 12 miles away), my best friend from our toddler years was Alan Brennan who lived a few doors away on Moody Street. Although we made contact with each other in recent years (he found me through this blog) we never met up.

At the end of April last year, Steph and I visited the National Trust’s Quarry Bank mill, just south of Manchester, on our way north from a week’s holiday in the New Forest. Making our way to the mill entrance, we crossed paths with a couple with a dog. I took no notice, but just as we passed, the man called me by name. It was Alan, and his wife Lyn. He recognised me from a recent photo on the blog!

L-R: Steph, me, Alan, and Lyn

Neither of us had too much time to catch up unfortunately. Alan and Lyn were coming to the end of their visit to Quarry Bank (essentially just down the road from Congleton where they still live), and we had yet to look round the cotton mill before completing the remainder of our journey north, around 170 miles. But the planets were definitely lined up on that day. What were the chances that we’d be in the same place at the same time – and actually meet?

So, there you have it. Chance but brief encounters close to home and on the other side of the globe. It really is a small world.

 

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I’m not religious, and . . .

. . . I no longer hold any religious beliefs. I shed those almost six decades ago.

But Steph and I do enjoy exploring many of the fine—awesome even—churches, abbeys, and priories that were constructed centuries ago by Christian communities to reflect ‘the glory of their omnipotent God’.

On the map below I have marked those we have visited over the years. Each icon is accompanied by several photos, and links to websites, my own blog posts and/or photo albums, where you will find much more information.

Ruins have a blue marker; churches that are still open have a purple one. Cathedrals are marked dark red for those we’ve actually been inside, whereas those viewed from a distance are marked yellow. One 16th century religious curiosity, Rushton Triangular Lodge, has a black icon.

There are also three pagan sites on the map that pre-date Christianity by centuries if not millennia, shown with green icons.

Most of the monasteries and priories were founded by the Cistercians, the Benedictines, and Augustinians among others in the immediate centuries following the Norman invasion of England in 1066.

During the Dissolution of the Monasteries enacted by Henry VIII between 1536 and 1541 many of these communities were disbanded and their assets claimed by the Crown or handed willy-nilly to allies of the King. We only see their ruins today, some more intact than others, but all leaving an impression of what they must have looked like in their heyday.

Fortunately many of the great cathedrals still stand proudly. It never ceases to amaze me—inspire even—just what it took to build these impressive edifices, up to a thousand years ago. Take late 12th century Wells Cathedral, for example.

Some are more recent. For example, St Paul’s (below) in London was designed by Sir Christopher Wren in the late 17th century after the Great Fire of September 1666 had destroyed the original church. It survived the London Blitz during World War II.

In Liverpool, there are two 20th century cathedrals: Anglican and Catholic. The former took 74 years to complete between 1904 and 1978. The latter, a very modern design, opened in 1967 after six years. Another recent cathedral is Coventry (designed by Sir Basil Spence), which opened in 1962 and stands beside the bombed-out ruins of the original cathedral.

Since we became members of the National Trust and English Heritage in 2011, we have visited many of the ruined abbeys and priories under their care. Here in the northeast of England where we now live, there are many ruined abbeys and priories, as well as several early Anglo-Saxon chapels still in use. After all, the ancient Kingdom of Northumbria was a cradle of Christianity in these islands.

Since there is so much more information in the map links, let me just focus on one ruined abbey and two churches that have particularly caught my attention.

Standing beneath a steep slope in a secluded valley of the River Rye in the North York Moors, Rievaulx Abbey is surely one of the best. It is managed today by English Heritage.

Rievaulx Abbey
The south face of the Refectory
The Day Room
The South Transept from the southeast
The North and South Transepts either side of the Crossing from the Nave
Tiers of gothic windows
Flying buttresses on the north side
View of the Abbey from Rievaulx Terrace
View of the Abbey from Rievaulx Terrace

It was the first Cistercian abbey founded in this country in 1132 by twelve monks from Clairvaux Abbey in northeast France. It was closed during the Dissolution in 1538.

What an impressive building, made even more so by its location. From Rievaulx Terrace above, you can get a bird’s-eye view of the whole site.

In the heart of the Gloucestershire countryside in the village of Kempley, the little Church of St Mary’s is an absolute jewel. Built in the late 12th century, it has some of the most exquisite Romanesque fresco paintings. It really is remarkable that they have survived all these centuries given the vandalism that occured during Henry VIII’s reign and afterwards. We visited in May 2015, and I had intended to return one day, but now that we are based in the northeast, that seems less likely. Nevertheless, this small church has left me a lasting impression. It is certainly worth a detour if you are ever in the vicinity.

The north wall with its paintings of the Wheel of Life, and those of St Anthony of Egypt and St Michael and the Virgin, either side of window.
Frescoes at St Mary’s Church, Kempley

Lastly, I have chosen St. Michael and All Angels Church, Great Witley, surely Britain’s finest baroque church. It stands next to the burnt out ruins of Witley Court in Worcestershire.

Completed in 1735, it was originally quite plain inside. However, in 1747, it underwent a remarkable transformation when the owner of Witley Court, the 2nd Baron Foley acquired furnishings, paintings, and stained glass windows from Cannons House that was demolished by the 2nd Duke of Chandos and its contents sold. You can read more about the church’s history here.

Well, those are my three choices. Take a look at the map and see if you agree. They are all special in so many ways. And I always come away with my spirits uplifted, but without religious experience per se.

 

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Black harvest from the sea

The weather has been none too kind in recent weeks here in the northeast of England. And there hasn’t been much incentive for getting out and about. On top of that, I’m suffering from a very painful bout of sciatica that is severely restricting my mobility. At least until the pain medication I was prescribed has kicked in.

A couple of days ago, the day dawned bright and sunny, although none too warm. But, for once, my medication did its job quite quickly, which has not been my general experience. So we decided to head up the coast to one of our favorite beaches at Cresswell, and one of the first we explored after we arrived here in the northeast at the back end of 2020.

Cresswell beach in November 2020.

Just 17 miles north from our home in North Tyneside, the drive to Cresswell Beach took just under half an hour.

The beach lies at the southern end of the much larger Druridge Bay, with rocky outcrops at the northern and southern ends, just under a mile apart. Above the tide line there is a stretch of soft sand, and behind the beach a low-lying cliff, perhaps 10m high, with interesting limestone and coal strata exposed.

On the occasions we have visited, there have been just a few people taking a stroll, walking the dog. But I guess in high summer it can get quite busy on a sunny, warm day, as there is a holiday park (with static caravans) just across the road from the beach.

Here’s another view, filmed from the rocks at the southern end (you can see the nearby Lynemouth power station just south of the beach, and in the far distance the five turbine wind farm off Seaton Sluice beach) and panning round to view Druridge Bay to the north.

Behind the rock platform at the southern end, it appears that the cliff was once excavated (behind Steph in the image below) and perhaps  accessible at high tide as a small quay.

While there is a lovely stretch of clear, yellow sand along the beach, at both ends of the beach there are patches of what appear to be—at first glance—black sand. On closer inspection, it’s clear that the black grains are not sand but COAL!

This coal, derived from erosion of the coals seems on the beach and out to sea, is actually collected. There are larger pieces the size of small gravel.

In fact, while we were there on an earlier visit, one man had driven on to the north end of the beach  on his quad bike, scooping up bucketfuls of the coal.

At the southern end, near the ‘quay’ I asked one ‘coalman’ what he used the coal for. He told me that he heated his shed and greenhouse since it was a free and plentiful source.

Sea coaling at Lynemouth, south of Cresswell.

It seems there is quite a long tradition of collecting sea coal on the Northumberland coast.

Coal is abundant along the coast. Just a mile or two north from Cresswell, the government eventually rejected the development of a large open cast mine behind Druridge Bay, where coal had been mined in the past. In fact several important wildlife reserves have been opened on former open cast sites.

And while doing some background reading for this blog, I came across this other blog.

Just click on the image above to open an interesting post about a feature on Cresswell beach, just north of where we visited. There’s a submerged forest and tree stumps are exposed at low tide.

Now that’s a good enough reason to return to Cresswell before too long.

And while our visit to Cresswell was not primarily for bird-watching, we were very lucky in some of our sightings. Skimming along the cliffs and beach, sand martins were very active, and nesting. Along with five fulmars sitting on a ledge and squabbling. A lone curlew hugged the crest of the waves as it flew down the beach, and out to sea we saw a lone eider duck. Pied wagtails were flitting around the beach.

Sand martin
Fulmars
Curlew
Eider
Pied wagtail

But the greatest surprise, while we were enjoying a picnic lunch overlooking the beach, was a lone male stonechat that alighted on a bush on the cliff edge just in front of us and in full sunlight. What a magnificent little bird it is.

All bird photos used courtesy of Barry Boswell.

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Deck the halls . . .

Steph and I joined the National Trust in February 2011, and have now visited more than 130 of its properties in England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, as well as four in Scotland (where Trust members receive reciprocal benefits from the National Trust for Scotland).

I should add we’re also members of English Heritage, but have visited far fewer of its properties.

We’ve certainly had full value from our National Trust joint senior membership over the past decade. We appreciate how visitor policies have developed and adapted to changing expectations over that period, making its properties—and the stories they have to tell—so much more accessible. Its policy on photography (subject to any copyright restrictions) has been relaxed, so that enthusiasts like me can record our visits (no flash!) and then blog about them afterwards.

Here in the northeast of England (where we moved in October 2020), there are fewer Trust properties than in the Midlands (in north Worcestershire) where we lived for many years, and which was a great base for heading out in all directions to explore the National Trust landscape.

Unsurprisingly, the property we have visited most is Hanbury Hall, on our doorstep, near Bromsgrove.

On our last visit to Hanbury Hall in early September 2020, less than a month before we moved to the northeast.

Hanbury Hall was also the first Trust property we visited in February 2011 just after becoming members. We enjoyed all our visits there, most often to take a walk in the extensive park, see how its magnificent parterre changed through the seasons, and occasionally take a glimpse inside the house. 

I could write a whole blog just about Hanbury Hall’s parterre.

At this time of the year, however, Hanbury Hall like many National Trust properties have introduced their winter opening schedules, or indeed closing over the next couple of months or so, just opening for special occasions. For many of the properties, Christmas is one those.

And from what we have experienced over the past decade of Christmas visits, the staff and volunteers at the houses really make a great effort to embody the spirit of Christmas.

So as we creep inexorably towards Christmas 2022, here are a few reminiscences of the Christmas visits we have enjoyed since 2013. Sometimes there is a theme for the Christmas display, in others, houses are ‘dressed’ as they might have been when under family ownership. And it’s not hard to imagine just how full of the joys of Christmas many of these properties must have been, children running excitedly about (they had the space!), while parents entertained their guests, all the while looked after by a bevy of household staff. How the other half lived!

Whatever the perspective, grand or modest, these Christmas visits (or just after) are indeed something to nurture the spirit of the season.

Hanbury Hall (9 December 2013), Worcestershire

Baddesley Clinton (19 December 2014), Warwickshire

Charlecote Park (16 December 2015), Warwickshire

Greyfriars (14 December 2016), Worcester

Croome (28 December 2017), Worcestershire

Coughton Court (30 November 2018), Warwickshire

Hanbury Hall (9 December 2019), Worcestershire

In 2020, many houses were still closed due to the Covid-19 pandemic although we had been to Cragside in October and toured the house.

On 14 December visited Wallington in Northumberland. The house was closed, but we enjoyed a coffee outside in the courtyard, and an invigorating walk around the garden and park (although parts were closed due to the tree damage caused by Storm Arwen that hit the northeast at the end of November).

Wallington (10 December 2021), Northumberland

Christmas at Wallington National Trust
National Trust Wallington central atrium

Ormesby Hall (28 November 2022), North Yorkshire

 

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We saw the Fairies Caves but no lonesome pines

Just over a month ago, Steph and I took the Metro to Cullercoats, a small community between Whitley Bay and Tynemouth on the North Sea coast, just a few miles from home. Our intention was to walk along the beach and coastal path from Cullercoats to Tynemouth, no more than a couple of miles. While we followed much of the coastal path, it’s not possible to show the actual detailed route we took across the beaches on the map below.

Just after we’d climbed out of Cullercoats Bay, and were looking south over Long Sands Beach, I had to pinch myself once again being so lucky to live in such a beautiful part of the country. And with the coast just a few minutes from home.

Looking south towards Tynemouth at Long Sands Beach.

Anyway, back to the beginning of the walk. The Metro ride to Cullercoats took around 10 minutes (just five stops) from our ‘home’ station, Northumberland Park.

To fortify ourselves for the walk ahead, we stopped for a welcome cup of coffee at the Cullercoats Coffee Co., on the corner of Station Road and John St., and only a couple of hundred meters from the Metro station.

It must have been around 10 am, and we were surprised to find the coffee shop heaving with customers, with just one table for two empty on the kerbside. Luckily it was a bright and sunny day, and still quite warm for mid-October.

Cullercoats is a sandy bay enclosed by two piers. It once had a thriving fishing industry, and hosted an artists’ colony in the 19th century, with local fisher-folk often featuring in the paintings.

At low tide (when we visited) there are long stretches of exposed rocks and pools on either side of the bay entrance.

Newcastle University’s Dove Marine Laboratory and the Cullercoats Lifeboat Station (established in 1848, with the red doors) are based here.

At the base of the yellow sandstone cliffs behind the beach are several caves, known locally as the Fairies Caves. We didn’t venture inside but having now read a little more about them, that’s something we will do next time we visit.

Cullercoats harbor from the south.
Fairie caves at Cullercoats.

And as we climbed over the headland at the south side of the bay we got our first view of Long Sands Beach, and St. George’s Anglican church on Grand Parade.

Long Sands beach between Cullercoats and Tynemouth.

At the south end of the beach is Tynemouth Outdoor Pool, just below Sharpness Point. It has been abandoned since the 1990s. But in its heyday, it was a popular attraction for families enjoying their summer holidays on this beautiful northeast coast.

Source: Newcastle Chronicle
The old Tynemouth outdoor ool.

In Tynemouth, the Grand Hotel stands on Grand Parade above the Pool, overlooking Long Sands Beach.

Built in 1872, there have been numerous famous visitors, among them comedy duo Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Stan Laurel lived in North Shields between 1897 and 1902 and attended the King’s School in Tynemouth.

In 1854, the Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Garibaldi is believed to have stayed in a house that is now part of the King’s School. At least there’s a blue plaque to that effect. The school opened its doors in 1860.

The next bay south, below Tynemouth Priory and Castle (owned by English Heritage) is King Edward’s Bay, just a short walk from the town’s main street, Front Street.

King Edward’s Bay – with the breakwaters at the entrance to the River Tyne visible just beyond the headland.

We headed along Front Street towards Tynemouth Metro station. Since we moved up here two years ago, I’ve seen ‘Front Street’ in many towns and villages. I guess this must be the northeast equivalent of ‘High Street’ further south.

Front Street in Tynemouth is a wonderfully broad street, and although it’s now overburdened (in my opinion) with eating and drinking establishments, it’s not hard to imagine it during its Georgian or Victorian heydays.

Front St from Tynemouth Castle

There’s even a Back Front Street!

Tynemouth’s Metro station is an iron and glass architectural masterpiece, which opened on 7 July 1882 as part of the North East Railway. It’s now a Grade II listed building.

On weekdays, Metro trains run every 12 minutes, so we were home before too long.

And that’s what so nice about living where we do. So many attractions and walks within short distances, and which we can (being retired) drop everything and take time out to enjoy.

You may be wondering about the title reference to ‘lonesome pines’. It’s all to do with Laurel and Hardy.