How the other half (of the 1 %) live

Rapallo's waterfront promenade

It’s not hard to realize how incredibly fortunate we are to have the means to embark on the journey we’ve been on now for 3 months. We are the one percent and it’s sobering to think that the vast majority of people on this planet will never get to fly to Marrakech, ski the French Alps, or glide through the canals of Venice.  The last few days we have been in Rapallo on the Italian Riviera and while we are enjoying our own incredible good fortune, we’ve seen why this is the playground of the ultra rich and famous.  Palm trees along the narrow streets, ristorante and grand hotels along the waterfront, salmon pink, terracotta and pale yellow villas clinging to the cliffs, huge private yachts anchored in the secluded harbours, sunshine and warm breezes off the Mediterranean.  It’s exactly like all the paparazzi photos and classic Italian movies depict it.

1 bedroom suites, $4,800 to $6,000/night.  Really? 

Rapallo buildings all have colourful "architectural" details

Portofino, a tiny port with a population of 120, had 2 of the largest yachts I've ever seen and a dozen huge sailboats in its small harbour.  The waterfront is lined with swanky shops and pricy cafes, but climbing up the hills above the town to the faro (lighthouse), we had fantastic views of the Ligurian coastline right down to the Cinque Terre.  A sailing regatta was underway on the bay, 50 colourful spinnakers on the horizon, and I thought of my brother Jim (“Popeye”) and how much he would love it here.  Marconi spent some of his later years in Portofino and did some of his radio experiments aboard his yacht “Electra”. 

 

Portofino

It’s a beautiful stretch of coastline and a perfect place for a little bit of indulgence (Prosecco and focaccia, viola gelato (tastes like lavender and the girls love it), but as Eva says, it’s a bit too celebrity.  We all agree now that Essaouira, Morocco was much more our style.  

Joy

Peebles from beside the Tweed River

I thought I would create an acrostic poem for my Auntie Jenny. J is for ....E is for ....well, I ditched that idea,  took the first and the last letter, added one between and voila, Joy.
I have been known, in the past, to set off on my own with a youthful disregard for family. This part of our trip, full of childhood memories, has brought me up short. I have become so acutely aware of history, mine, my family's and the world's. Perhaps I am just a slow learner.



Our time in Peebles, Scotland was relaxed, calm and full of laughter. We were graciously taken care of by my aunt and uncle, left to do as we pleased (which, for me, meant spending as much time as close by as possible) I visited a woollen mill, visited charity shops, wrote down recipes and asked more questions about our history. Norm had an evening at the local pub with Nigel and co, I packed up a box of sweaters and wool and the boys revelled in their space, a room that was one floor above ours. Bliss.

Edinburgh Castle

Saturday, we got on the bus to Edinburgh and explored the town in bright sunshine. We had a full family dinner with cousins and wished it could be longer.
OK, I mentioned sunshine.....while we were 'going ape', it hailed. Weather aside, no clouds during our stay, warmth all round.

Uncle Nigel, me and Auntie Jenny in Peebles

Outdoors

A view from halfway up the mountain

At last we are back to internet access! It's amazing how this can hold a blog back.....
So I'll reach back into my memory a bit and try to recap our days in the UK. We have had a chance to visit some of the great western cities on this trip: Venice, Firenze, Geneve, Paris, London. But I remain a small town kid! Sure, one that is deeply involved and interested in art and architecture and history, (usually urban things) but a small town kid all the same, maybe even a guy from farming roots? Certainly one who is eager to explore and enjoy nature.
So, there is a good reason to enjoy our time in IOM and Peebles! IOM was hiking and farming. Scotland was riding and, well, flying.....
We were welcomed by Jenny and Nigel Thake, Sue's Auntie and Uncle to Peebles. Peebles is a borders town, in the south of Scotland and a lovely little town, with a typical high street, headed by the Church of Scotland, and independent shops and pubs.

Happy bikers

When, Nigel, in his email about possible activities in Peebles wrote 'mountain biking" I very quickly googled "Peebles MTB" and the top hit was Glentress of the 7 Taines! I'd heard about this place!

Our favourite section: Good name

Glentress is a palace of mountain biking, a place that makes all other trails I've ridden pale in comparison! Not for scenery or technical challenges or even location: I've had the chance to ride in some nice locations: Glentress is mountain biking well thought out! It's got trails that have been built to withstand weather and riding; it's got factilites (good espresso! and bike rentals for me and my boys) and it's got graded trails for all riders. The blue trail which Toby, Kenzie and I rode 2 times was a marvel of mtb ingenuity. The climb was long, (30 minutes to 1 hour) but not too steep, the switchbacks were perfectly sculpted, the track was gravel lined in places to withstand wet and cold (both of which we saw). The downhill, was amazing, swooping, rolls, lips and berms! SO much fun, even Kenzie forgot the climb! 18kms later we dropped our rental bikes off and enjoy coffee and hot chocolate before catching the 10 minute bus ride back to town.

Kenzie riding strong

Mountain biking is helping a quaint little town survive. Glentress apparently attracts 4000 riders per week and that is bound to rub off on this lovely little town.
Certainly it will bring me back: next time with my own bike, shoes and (not to put too fine a point on it) bike shorts! Can't wait.

sweet switchbacks

Our third, for all four of us, adventure was Go Ape, a treetop adventure course....Those who know me, know I have a pretty well developed fear of heights. And a strange need to face fears....And kids who were so excited about doing this, and Sue, who seemed nonplussed by the whole thing! We strapped on harnesses, learned how to use our various safety lines and were sent into the trees. Onto very narrow platforms, across zip lines of increasing lengths, facing traverses of space of increasing challenge, until my nerve and brain was about to explode. The penultimate zip line took us from an impossible high tree, across a valley, over an lake (100+ metres high....) to land in woods, hundreds of metres away. I just about lost it, but trusted my harness, and the pocket sized first aid kit that all the guides carried, (that was a joke, I mean really!) to keep me from dying. I lived, the boys ad Sue had a great time, and I didn't make a mess in my pants or have a nervous breakdown: A good day all round!

Luckily you can't see the expression on my face....yikes!

2 years and we'll be back.

I haven't talked enough about how well we were taken care of in IOM and Peebles. Sue's Uncle Tim and his partner Jean and Auntie Jenny and Uncle Nigel, treated us all in a most "old school" family way: you're the guests, we'll take care of you. It was so welcome after weeks of advanced, (and spontaneous planning), after days of navigating by sketchy map, half loaded google maps, (and shear luck) to just be invited to sit back, relax and have dinner prepared! Thank-you Jenny and Jean, and Nigel and Tim. We'll be back, not to take advantage of this generosity, but hopefully to repay it, if you'll let us!

Sue enjoying the Scottish weather: On Ape day we experienced: sun, rain, thunder, and finally hail!  No problem!

Yeah, we zipped across that valley....The line is WAY over our heads!

Isle of Man

On our last night in London, while recounting the various places we were heading the the near future, I was asked if the Isle of Man felt like home. My answer was no, I hadn't been there for 36 years, my memories were faded.
We arrived in clear sunshine, the whole of the island was presented below us. I started to remember.
My uncle Tim was there to great us, he hasn't changed, more memories.

Lamb catching

After a quick tour of the island we were settled in at Cammall Farm, nestled in the valley between two rolling hills. Dinner that night was pheasant casserole and chocolate cake. Awesome.

finally....got it

Lambing had begun on my Uncle's farm. We fed lambs, herded a new mom with twins into a warm trailer, played with dogs, marvelled at the peacocks and were full of questions. Dinners by the Aga, where we shared the warmth with T&J, dogs, cats and a new born lamb. New memories.
Passed my grandparent's old house every night on the way home, down the narrow high sided lane (did I really walk all the way down for eggs with my grandmother and back up again? Yes, I remember that!) Thatched roofs, huge water wheels, cliffs, harbours. It's all coming back.

The Chasms

Cregneash, thatched roofs and stone walls

Laxey Wheel

         

We hiked and healed, spread our wings in the countryside and counted our blessings. We are so fortunate.

Tim and Jean, wonderful family

Now I say, there is definitely a part of me that calls this island home.

On Travelling versus Touristing

Crowds in Piazza San Marco

What to do with a Saturday in Venice...Everyone up relatively early - and then off to Piazzo San Marco on the vaporetto - thinking that we would "beat the crowds"...San Marco was packed - the line to enter the basilica snaked all the way down the piazza - there were pigeons and people everywhere.  We wandered happily for a bit, feeling absolutely no compunction to go into any galleries, or bell towers, or churches.  Then we walked to the Rialto Bridge - which on paper looks quite daunting, but in fact took about 15 minutes.  Venice is smaller in population that Halifax and by the end of the day, we felt that we knew our way about.  We walked everywhere - from the Rialto back to our apartment, then off to Campo San Polo, and Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari where we sat in the square and watched the people go by.

Watching the world go by...

 Then followed the signs to the Ferrovia (Railroad Station) to catch a vaporetto to Isola San Michele which is the cemetery island. What a lovely break from the crowds - we walked around on this deserted island that was filled with trees and mausolea for an hour before heading back to the "mainland" to take the No. 1 vaporetti back to our pensione.  Girls did some serious souvenir shopping - enchanted by the hand painted Venetian masks that are everywhere.  And here we are, back at our pensione; but we've learned to pace ourselves quite well and are looking forward to a home-cooked meal.  The bells are ringing all over - it seems that there are campaniele (bell towers) every block or two...

Vaporetti, Venezia y La Dolce Vita

Rialto Bridge - just down the "street"

Today, the 27th anniversary of the day that Sam and I met, we arrived in Venice.  There were several "marriage moments" (as my sister calls those times when you grit your teeth and choose silence over the many retorts that are possible) but we arrived at the proper vaporetto stop to meet Oriol who showed us our pensione in Venice.  It really is breathtaking to imagine trying to find an apartment here without a guide - as Oriol told us, you pay no attention to street names or numbers, you just look around and identify landmarks to find your way back home.  Venice is breathtaking - every corner you go around has another beautiful view of some amazing building.  We are 2 stops from the Rialto bridge.  After a quick dinner of (what else?) pasta, we got back on the water bus and took the Grand Tour - from our San Silvestro stop to the Lido and then all the way back to the Ferrovia (Train station) and then back to our stop.  The best seats in town.  Tomottow, we have the whole day - I think we might just sit on the vaporetto and go around and around...maybe get off at some point and have pizza, or insalata caprese, which is our current favourite (bocconcini, tomato and basil).

Insalata Caprese...yum!

 How did we get so lucky?!  Real life seems distant and filled with extras.  We are filled with ideas about simplifying our lives, redesigning our garden, selling everything...it'll be interesting to see what sticks once we arrive back in our real life...

Twenty-Four Hours

What can you do in 24 hours?...Sleep for 8, work for a bit, have some time off.  We, on the other hand, just completed a sprint across 4 countries.  After saying goodbye to our lovely barn in Methersham (and planting the idea of travelling en famille with John and Leslie who owned the Oast), we drove to Dover on Wednesday morning - so foggy, you couldn't see the cliffs when you were driving right past them...

boarded the ferry to Calais  ...

...and drove for many hours across the flattest land you can imagine, right across France, up the Jura under a full moon and through a tiny bit of Switzerland to Divonne. 

Slept for a bit, grateful for Tim and Alayne's lovely house where the magnolia were in bloom.  Early the next morning, got everyone into the car and drove along Lac Leman and over the Simplon Pass where there is still much snow

 ...to Lago Maggiore.  So, 24 hours, 4 countries.  To fetch up in Stresa, Italy where we discovered that it was "Liberation Day" (ignorance really is bliss) for all of Europe complete with summer weather which brought out crowds and crowds of people and shut down all the streets in the centre of town.  We stayed in a charmng hotel right on the main square, went for a stroll by the lake (along with half the population of Italy) and then sat on our balcony listening to the children playing soccer late into the night.

Lago Maggiore

Stiles

I’m a sucker for an English footpath. I’m not sure where this interest came from. Perhaps it was my parents dragging us out onto them in 1970, and it just seemed so much better that walking through another cathedral and doing more brass rubbings. Certainly stiles are fun for any kid. Being a bit of a climber I remember waiting for the next one to come round the corner!

As soon as we drove off the ferry I started looking for “Public Footpath” signs, and couldn’t wait to get out on as many as we could manage!

In Arudel we managed one little walk in to the countryside, complete with two stiles. London? Not so many footpaths.....

The further we have gone along in this trip the more I was anticipating the Isle on Man and Scotland. Now, this is footpath country! We have come equipped with three separate books on walks on IOM. We’re ready!

On Snaefell, the highest point on IOM

Looking down from Snaefell

Our route along the cliffs

What is it I love about hiking in Britain? It’s a combination many things I realize: It’s being in the country, but not in wilderness: The idea that if I walk in any direction for a kilometre, I’ll probably run into a pub, or at least a farm. It’s the feeling I remember from being a boy of running into an old ruin, foundation, strange lump of ground, and wondering what it was. An old mill? An Anglo Saxon burial mound? An old gun emplacement from the war? The possibilities and mysteries are endless! I love hiking here because the trees have been sawed down for centuries, giving us wonderful views of green valleys, distant farms, flocks of sheep, new hills to climb, towers and ruins on the horizon. I love the idea that people are permitted, and have been for decades, to walk across other people’s land. Stiles mean climbing (I was a climber as a kid, still am) and they mean trespassing, which is completely accepted. I think “private property” is a much more closed concept in North America.

Corrin's Folly from a distance

Yesterday we went on a real footpath hike here on IOM. The day was sunny with a crisp wind. There were fog banks offshore, and in the high hills looming, but never sliding down to cover us! We parked in the shadow of the Peel Castle, walked south, first climbing steep hills, Peel and Corrin’s Folly (complete with burial tower build by Mister Corrin, for himself), then downhill past fields of sheep with brand new lambs (very late this year because of huge snows in March – 16 foot drifts are talked about, and there is still snow in higher shady spots); then along the cliffs, often precariously, but always with great vistas of the coast, seabirds flying below us, and gorse scratching at our pants. We took our time and had a picnic lunch at the top of a particularly tall ladder stile (a climbers delight). Then up a glen away from the coast to a pub, where we enjoyed a local ale (I would never think of drinking beer during a North America hike, but here it seems culturally appropriate). Finally down the road back toward Peel, noticing the old mill to the left, complete with (a now immobile) water wheel, an old railway line, and fish ladder! It’s all I could hope for. And it was long! We were out 4 hours and really had a good, long and challenging walk!

Halfway reward!

Today the weather is more typical: blowing, with sheets of rain rolling across the roof of our cottage sounding like waves. We’ll stay under museum roofs today (if I can ever get the boys to wake up!).

Tomorrow we will find another footpath, and see what we see!

My photo essay on Stiles follows >>>>

luxury model

stone-jutting out style stile

oooh a ladder stile!

classic

beginner stile

modern classic

artful stone

Juxtapositions

Today, the Hainsworth/Bennetts drove to Dover along the ocean to visit Dover Castle which towers above the town on top of the White cliffs.  We got out of the car at St. Mary's in the Sea, to have a look at the ocean which is hidden behind huge walls that run for miles along the coast.  There are steps down to the ocean and we assume there must be sand somewhere, but the tide was too high to see it this morning.

Pharos lighthouse (120 AD)

Then it was on to the castle - travelling in off-peak tourist season has some real advantages - there was hardly anyone at the castle this morning.  It dominates the skyline as you drive into Dover - or at least it does when it's not blocked out by fog.  We lucked into a sunny morning today and spent a happy few hours wandering about this ancient site.  The oldest building dates from 120 AD - a lighthouse that warned Roman ships away from the coast.  Then, a castle built by Henry II in 1200 (Henry II was father of  "Bad" King John (of Robin Hood fame).  The tower keep has been refurbished to look as it must have when Henry lived here - sumptuous wall coverings, thrones, money rooms and kitchens.

A picnic lunch while the fog rolled in until you could see nothing beyond the battlements.  Another tour of the secret World War II tunnels that were used to coordinate the withdrawals of troops from Dunkirk in 1940.  It's an immense site that sprawls over the tops of a hill, high up above Dover, which was the most heavily bombed English town during WWII.  Sobering.  All this war, and fighting and then you drive through these lovely little towns called Peasmarsh, and Rye Foreign, and Beckley where all is green and blooming and peaceful.