Forest of Dean / Wye Valley 14 - 16 July 17
Drive down was nice and slow for Annie, a nice Mayo reg car in front of us decided that they really wanted Annie and myself to arrive safely to our destination so they very kindly drove in front of us at 10 miles an hour. So nice of them and Annie more or less said as much. One thing I discovered on this leg of the journey; Annie has religion. I know this because she was calling down the “Oh my Gods” and “Jesus this and Jesus that” on the caring couple driving in front of us. I don’t know why she threw in a few swear words…..must be a German thing........I know deep down she was thanking them for being so considerate.
So meet up with Auntie M. in Charlestown and head for the port that is not made of air. Could not believe how busy our own little international runway has become. We had to park at the extreme end of the car park. In the au natural as in untaramaced end, I believe Auntie might have scuffed a high heel on the way to the entrance.
I went on ahead to check in the bag with the sleeping bags while Margaret and Annie strolled up to the terminal. It was also to make sure there were no nice Mayo people waiting to ambush Annie. It was strange waiting to check in a bag as I had being going hand luggage only for about 7 years now. While waiting what seemed like a very long time, lets call it an eternity, for them I met a woman at the check in, it turns out she was missing her husband, I suggested that he may have ran off with one of my “friends”. She replied that maybe we should run away together. Why not, but I thought it would only fair to give them five minutes, her partner turned up about 2 mins later.
( Quick aside. I cannot remember the couples names but they had recently returned / retired back to Ireland from New Zealand. One of the stories they told me when chatting in line. While touring around a remote part of New Zealand they decided to treat themselves to an upmarket hotel for 2 or 3 nights….oh dear…full up. However it was suggested to them that if they would not mind the inconvenience the Hotel owned a luxury yacht moored in the marina and could have it for the duration if they liked. Needless to say, being Irish they chatted to people while holidaying, and may have accidently give the odd one or two the impression that they possibly owned the vessel. )
Later while waiting in the waiting lounge I indulged in a pint and met up with the same couple again for a minute or two. Then it was back to the other two. M & A. This was the first occasion where I am doubting Auntie M’s Irishness. After the pint I joined the ladies (!) on the seats near the gate ( that is unfair, no need for the exclamation mark, there is no doubt ). Anyways I realised there was still 20 mins + to go so said out loud “there is plenty of time, maybe I should have another pint”. To which Margaret pipes up I could have HALF a pint of Guinness…...seriously...just how old does she think I am???
So meet up with Auntie M. in Charlestown and head for the port that is not made of air. Could not believe how busy our own little international runway has become. We had to park at the extreme end of the car park. In the au natural as in untaramaced end, I believe Auntie might have scuffed a high heel on the way to the entrance.
I went on ahead to check in the bag with the sleeping bags while Margaret and Annie strolled up to the terminal. It was also to make sure there were no nice Mayo people waiting to ambush Annie. It was strange waiting to check in a bag as I had being going hand luggage only for about 7 years now. While waiting what seemed like a very long time, lets call it an eternity, for them I met a woman at the check in, it turns out she was missing her husband, I suggested that he may have ran off with one of my “friends”. She replied that maybe we should run away together. Why not, but I thought it would only fair to give them five minutes, her partner turned up about 2 mins later.
( Quick aside. I cannot remember the couples names but they had recently returned / retired back to Ireland from New Zealand. One of the stories they told me when chatting in line. While touring around a remote part of New Zealand they decided to treat themselves to an upmarket hotel for 2 or 3 nights….oh dear…full up. However it was suggested to them that if they would not mind the inconvenience the Hotel owned a luxury yacht moored in the marina and could have it for the duration if they liked. Needless to say, being Irish they chatted to people while holidaying, and may have accidently give the odd one or two the impression that they possibly owned the vessel. )
Later while waiting in the waiting lounge I indulged in a pint and met up with the same couple again for a minute or two. Then it was back to the other two. M & A. This was the first occasion where I am doubting Auntie M’s Irishness. After the pint I joined the ladies (!) on the seats near the gate ( that is unfair, no need for the exclamation mark, there is no doubt ). Anyways I realised there was still 20 mins + to go so said out loud “there is plenty of time, maybe I should have another pint”. To which Margaret pipes up I could have HALF a pint of Guinness…...seriously...just how old does she think I am???
So another FULL PINT later and Ryanair leave on time. As we had not paid for specific seats they very kindly seated us one behind the other. Even though each of our rows of three has a vacant seat. Annie is directly behind me and then there is M. They have done likewise with the chap, Aidan, and his partner Tina. Aidan was fortunate to be seated beside me while Tina had the misfortune to have Annie’s company. But there you go.
Something tells me that if this couple get past this weekend and remain together they are going to have an event filled life. As far as I can remember they are not long together. Aidan returned to Ireland a few months back having spent 8 years in Australia working as a haulier. This was there first trip abroad together and Aidan’s first venture on a plane since he returned from down under, they are travelling to visit his brother who works or is based in Bristol. Apparently he flew a lot in Australia and, for the most part, on internal flights you just show up with your receipt or proof of purchase for your flight and on you go. He discovered to his cost that things work differently in up over world ( well if they are down under then I think up over makes some sort of sense ). They had to fork out an additional €50 each to get their boarding passes printed at the Airport.
So next up is Tina, instead of switching to aeroplane mode she switched her phone off. Very conscientious. Unfortunately not so clever as when she went to turn it back on she discovered she did not know her pin. Something tells me that Aidan’s phone will have to remained constantly charging for the weekend.
So next up it is Tina again. A little over half way through the hour or so journey we have a bit of turbulence…guess who spills a glass of water all over her jeans ( which unfortunately she was wearing at the time). I would not be one bit surprised if a certain person sitting near her somehow arranged the bit of turbulence at that time just pushed her. So she gets to the toilet and kinda half dries herself or at least makes herself as comfortable as she can what is a very uncomfortable situation.
Now it must be Aidan’s turn for something to go amiss ..no, no…. it’s back to Tina again. She is sitting back in her seat, chatting to Annie while eating one of these tub things with three sections or so, obviously the conversation was very interesting, enthralling even, that she was so distracted by it that instead of sticking one of the biscuity things into the chocolate section she somehow managed to plunge her fingers into the dark mess. Good thing she realised what she had done before taking a bite.
I really hope things work out for these two. Their life stories will be amazing.
So we arrive safe and sound onto the ground despite being in the vicinity of Aidan & Tina.
Aunty has this brilliant plan where she goes to sort out the car hire while we pick up the case. The idea being there will be no delay.
So we pick up the case ( double quick ) and head outside in search of our car collection point.
We found the depot it fairly handy, we found it handier than we found Margaret or even she found it, truth be told she did not find it for another 10 minutes or more. And when she did appear boy did she have a hump and a half.
Some member of the airport staff had sent in the opposite direction. If you are not familiar with this particular lady and her quirks let me tell you that she is great crack, a gem, a lady, however when she gets the hump she comes across as irate as a French person that just lost another war. And now she is carrying a hump that would make Quasimodo take a right shine to her. So not a happy camper by any means. There is talk about going back in to look for this unhelpful person who has problems with left and right and hanging him up by his Liathróidí ( that is the Irish for balls ). There is mutterings about a formal complaint. The mutterings went on and to her telling us what she should do, have a mind to do. I thought briefly of suggesting that she put deep-heat on her hump and it may reduce the swelling but in fear of my own liathróidí I kept the thought to myself.
While in the office with M we see Annie giving directions to some poor tourist, possibly looking for nearby Bristol and she is more than likely sending them to Scotland. It turns out the driver in question works with her in Sligo University Hospital. This was the second colleague she had met. The first she spotted was before we had left the terminal. I would guess they are possibly spies sent to keep an eye on her in case she tries to start another war or invade somewhere or other.
So wheels are turning, the airport is now in the rear view mirror and let us just say that humps are subsiding rapidly as the Wye Valley beckons. Auntie has made this drive before, Annie is her co-pilot and brought a giganticus road atlas of the U.K. with her. So what could go wrong, absolutely nothing until they manage to take the wrong bridge across the Severn. Other than that everything, from my point of view in the back seat, is peachy.
So time to pull in to one of the Motorway Service Area’s. Coffee, food and new directions needed.
So not long after as we head in the right direction, so as we drive along we are in and out of Wales, at least once, and not long after we arrive at Tintern Abbey.
This is a pleasant surprise. It is an amazing sight. Though it is closed to the public when we arrive you can get an amazing feel for the place just by being on it’s grounds. Built in 1131 by the Cistercian Monks it was in continuous use and development until the dissolutions of the monasteries took place by Henry the VIII. In 1536 the abbey, and all its treasures became, property of the crown. The roof, being covered in highly sought after lead, was removed and sold and from then on the Abbey started to go into ruin. It is now longer a ruin than it was a functioning building and yet one cannot but help be impressed by its presence. I do mean this from an architectural point a view not from any sense of religion.
I also discovered that this was the first place that Brass was made by alloying copper and tin back in 1568.
So suitably impressed we head back towards England and the campsite with a brief stop in Lidl for supplies, you know like things to eat and drink, then to Waitrose for the all important corkscrew / bottle opener.
So time to pull in to one of the Motorway Service Area’s. Coffee, food and new directions needed.
So not long after as we head in the right direction, so as we drive along we are in and out of Wales, at least once, and not long after we arrive at Tintern Abbey.
This is a pleasant surprise. It is an amazing sight. Though it is closed to the public when we arrive you can get an amazing feel for the place just by being on it’s grounds. Built in 1131 by the Cistercian Monks it was in continuous use and development until the dissolutions of the monasteries took place by Henry the VIII. In 1536 the abbey, and all its treasures became, property of the crown. The roof, being covered in highly sought after lead, was removed and sold and from then on the Abbey started to go into ruin. It is now longer a ruin than it was a functioning building and yet one cannot but help be impressed by its presence. I do mean this from an architectural point a view not from any sense of religion.
I also discovered that this was the first place that Brass was made by alloying copper and tin back in 1568.
So suitably impressed we head back towards England and the campsite with a brief stop in Lidl for supplies, you know like things to eat and drink, then to Waitrose for the all important corkscrew / bottle opener.
We arrive at the campsite just before 8 and are met by Tiff and Sam. As we are being shown around I again doubt Margaret has an Irish woman in her atall. She shows us the Bilbins Suspension Bridge and tells us that we can cross over, turn left, and then walk a couple of miles alongside a river IF we want to go for a drink while we are there.
Half pints and if's.....I think she may be losing it.
So we met a great bunch a people, half are bit daft, the other half are not well at all and as for the third half well I don’t think I got a chance to chat to them, they may be okay, but it's doubtful. Will let you know if we meet up again next year.
So no sooner had we the tents up and darkness is setting in so we adjourn to the marquee styled dining area. Time for drinking, meeting new people and telling each other fibs and such.
It was a very enjoyable night; within the first few minutes of meeting Sam and Tiffs friends we felt at home, it was like not just being a natural part of this strange ensemble but as if we were just rejoining them having being here last year.
I do remember as we first walked among our fellow campers and being introduced to some of them someone piping up “I know an Italian accent when I hear it”….told you...strange ensemble. While my accent may have people guessing what county I am from...I’ve even had Cork and Kerry offered however one thing is not in doubt, and there is no getting away from, my accent is Irish. Thinking about it now perhaps the lady who thought I was Italian can not be totally at fault. Maybe when she was a child her parents pulled a fast one on her by bringing her on holidays to Ireland all the time telling her that Dublin was Rome and Croke Parc was the Colosseum. So she went back to her friends each year telling them how she had seen the Trevi Fountain when in fact she had most likely spotted the floozie in the jacuzzi.
So unfortunately I am writing this six weeks after the event and my memory is not serving me too well. I do remember having several conversations but what exactly they were about….well the wind knows.
I think the last one was something got to do with the size of ovaries….is it any wonder I drink.
Not long after everyone, barring Annie & myself, disappeared under canvas for the night I got to asking her how she met her fella Gerry. I am sure she told me but for the life of me I cant remember and possibly even if I did would not write it here. However there was one interesting aside I did take note of: She did mention that when I met Gerry for the first time he was so passionate about a certain Galway soccer team. And I do mean passionate, when he mentioned them the words were fervent, there was animation, it like religion. So having consumed a bit of alcohol Annie's words may have get lost in transit as they make their way from her brain to her mouth and what came out was.
“The same year I started dating Gerry the Galway team he followed got eradicated”.
Eradicated…...ament I Just glad that I never played football in Galway. Then again she is German and well…..enough said.
Time to make our way to our tents before I find my fate is to be eliminated or even sent to the showers…. and I do not play football.
Half pints and if's.....I think she may be losing it.
So we met a great bunch a people, half are bit daft, the other half are not well at all and as for the third half well I don’t think I got a chance to chat to them, they may be okay, but it's doubtful. Will let you know if we meet up again next year.
So no sooner had we the tents up and darkness is setting in so we adjourn to the marquee styled dining area. Time for drinking, meeting new people and telling each other fibs and such.
It was a very enjoyable night; within the first few minutes of meeting Sam and Tiffs friends we felt at home, it was like not just being a natural part of this strange ensemble but as if we were just rejoining them having being here last year.
I do remember as we first walked among our fellow campers and being introduced to some of them someone piping up “I know an Italian accent when I hear it”….told you...strange ensemble. While my accent may have people guessing what county I am from...I’ve even had Cork and Kerry offered however one thing is not in doubt, and there is no getting away from, my accent is Irish. Thinking about it now perhaps the lady who thought I was Italian can not be totally at fault. Maybe when she was a child her parents pulled a fast one on her by bringing her on holidays to Ireland all the time telling her that Dublin was Rome and Croke Parc was the Colosseum. So she went back to her friends each year telling them how she had seen the Trevi Fountain when in fact she had most likely spotted the floozie in the jacuzzi.
So unfortunately I am writing this six weeks after the event and my memory is not serving me too well. I do remember having several conversations but what exactly they were about….well the wind knows.
I think the last one was something got to do with the size of ovaries….is it any wonder I drink.
Not long after everyone, barring Annie & myself, disappeared under canvas for the night I got to asking her how she met her fella Gerry. I am sure she told me but for the life of me I cant remember and possibly even if I did would not write it here. However there was one interesting aside I did take note of: She did mention that when I met Gerry for the first time he was so passionate about a certain Galway soccer team. And I do mean passionate, when he mentioned them the words were fervent, there was animation, it like religion. So having consumed a bit of alcohol Annie's words may have get lost in transit as they make their way from her brain to her mouth and what came out was.
“The same year I started dating Gerry the Galway team he followed got eradicated”.
Eradicated…...ament I Just glad that I never played football in Galway. Then again she is German and well…..enough said.
Time to make our way to our tents before I find my fate is to be eliminated or even sent to the showers…. and I do not play football.
So next morning and we are all up bright and early. It is around 7:20 am.
I decided I was going to walk a couple of mile to one of the pubs along the river as it was mentioned last night that would be showing the final math of the Lions V All Blacks.
I was offered a bike to get me there but refused. Having not cycled in a couple of years I looked into the near future...riding along a dirt track that just so happened to adjoin a river after consuming between 2 - 4 pints at 9 am. I could not foresee a happy outcome. At least not a drive one.
I decided on a quick march. So as I set out on my foray I meet Deb’s and tell her where I am going. She advises me to cross this bridge here, Bilbins, as there may not be one further up. Funny that, no one else had told me to cross the river...then again I had consumed a tincture of alcohol….maybe I forgot what they told me. It was a very pleasant walk along which I encountered about 4 groups of dog walkers, plenty of birds, a few swans and ducks. What was not so pleasant was upon arrival at the Saracens Head discovering that they are not showing the rugby and told me if I did want to see it the best chance was to go back across the river.
Before setting off again I did ask around a couple of other places on the off chance. There is a Hotel, a couple of B & B / Guest House, Tea Room and a couple of hundred Canadian canoes being got ready for todays visitors. Not only is the rugby not available here but at least three people ask me who is playing.
I discover later that Deb’s had spent as much time in the Wye Valley as myself so was not to know.
What the hell, it was a nice mornings walk and if I did not dally on the way back I would get to listen to the second half at the campsite.
As there is no WiFi here I listen to the second half on the car radio while A & M went for a swim.
Just as the match finished, a draw that nobody wanted in case you are interested, Tiff reappeared and she was going to bring Auntie Margaret, Annie and myself canoeing / kayaking. So it turned out a blessing in disguise I did not get to the pub as I would possibly have drank say 3 pints and had to doze in the afternoon and there was no way I was getting into a Kayak with drink on me.
We had to be discreet about our intentions however because if he kids found out, there was about 12+ in our camping group, then we may have had to cut our paddle short or even stand in queue.
So my first time into a regular Kayak, I have a sea Kayak which is open plan; you know room for a pony and all that, and also been in a Canadian, but never before sat in a regular Kayak. So as I go to sit in my balance is right…..by balance is right….no wait…..it is too much to the right and Splash…it is right into the water...hopefully this is not a taste of things to come. So second time lucky, Margaret who is an old hand on this river is with Tiff in a Canadian, and the import, also on her maiden Kayak venture, gets it right first time and is in and dry. I’m not jealous...her time will come.
We set off upstream with the ever watchful Tiff bringing up the rear, keeping an eye on her wards.
I was a bit surprised to discover how hard it was to keep these things straight. I done more pirouettes than a confused ballerina. I did get to feel a little better as I enjoyed watching wee Annie do likewise…...yea….she would make a good ballerina okay.
So we head up the river Wye for about 3/4 of a Kilometre, which is no distance really, however when you paddling against the current it seems to take a bit of time. Just before reaching Symonds Yat there is a small island, we had to get out of our crafts and walk them up the east / left side of it, the other side has a fast running waters. While the water is not deep you do need some type of footwear as the rocks can be pretty slippery. After about 200 metres you get back on board your craft again and continue on.
As we set off again I am with Tiff in the Canadian. The plan is we tie up and have a drink before heading downstream. However as as we went to tie our canoe up beside the steps we were told this was not allowed. I think it was possibly because our Canadian was how shall I say, showing it’s years, and was looking out of place alongside all the nice shiny Canadians. Not to worry we move about 10 metres away, under a tree, and more importantly out of sight of the Canoe Police.
I decided I was going to walk a couple of mile to one of the pubs along the river as it was mentioned last night that would be showing the final math of the Lions V All Blacks.
I was offered a bike to get me there but refused. Having not cycled in a couple of years I looked into the near future...riding along a dirt track that just so happened to adjoin a river after consuming between 2 - 4 pints at 9 am. I could not foresee a happy outcome. At least not a drive one.
I decided on a quick march. So as I set out on my foray I meet Deb’s and tell her where I am going. She advises me to cross this bridge here, Bilbins, as there may not be one further up. Funny that, no one else had told me to cross the river...then again I had consumed a tincture of alcohol….maybe I forgot what they told me. It was a very pleasant walk along which I encountered about 4 groups of dog walkers, plenty of birds, a few swans and ducks. What was not so pleasant was upon arrival at the Saracens Head discovering that they are not showing the rugby and told me if I did want to see it the best chance was to go back across the river.
Before setting off again I did ask around a couple of other places on the off chance. There is a Hotel, a couple of B & B / Guest House, Tea Room and a couple of hundred Canadian canoes being got ready for todays visitors. Not only is the rugby not available here but at least three people ask me who is playing.
I discover later that Deb’s had spent as much time in the Wye Valley as myself so was not to know.
What the hell, it was a nice mornings walk and if I did not dally on the way back I would get to listen to the second half at the campsite.
As there is no WiFi here I listen to the second half on the car radio while A & M went for a swim.
Just as the match finished, a draw that nobody wanted in case you are interested, Tiff reappeared and she was going to bring Auntie Margaret, Annie and myself canoeing / kayaking. So it turned out a blessing in disguise I did not get to the pub as I would possibly have drank say 3 pints and had to doze in the afternoon and there was no way I was getting into a Kayak with drink on me.
We had to be discreet about our intentions however because if he kids found out, there was about 12+ in our camping group, then we may have had to cut our paddle short or even stand in queue.
So my first time into a regular Kayak, I have a sea Kayak which is open plan; you know room for a pony and all that, and also been in a Canadian, but never before sat in a regular Kayak. So as I go to sit in my balance is right…..by balance is right….no wait…..it is too much to the right and Splash…it is right into the water...hopefully this is not a taste of things to come. So second time lucky, Margaret who is an old hand on this river is with Tiff in a Canadian, and the import, also on her maiden Kayak venture, gets it right first time and is in and dry. I’m not jealous...her time will come.
We set off upstream with the ever watchful Tiff bringing up the rear, keeping an eye on her wards.
I was a bit surprised to discover how hard it was to keep these things straight. I done more pirouettes than a confused ballerina. I did get to feel a little better as I enjoyed watching wee Annie do likewise…...yea….she would make a good ballerina okay.
So we head up the river Wye for about 3/4 of a Kilometre, which is no distance really, however when you paddling against the current it seems to take a bit of time. Just before reaching Symonds Yat there is a small island, we had to get out of our crafts and walk them up the east / left side of it, the other side has a fast running waters. While the water is not deep you do need some type of footwear as the rocks can be pretty slippery. After about 200 metres you get back on board your craft again and continue on.
As we set off again I am with Tiff in the Canadian. The plan is we tie up and have a drink before heading downstream. However as as we went to tie our canoe up beside the steps we were told this was not allowed. I think it was possibly because our Canadian was how shall I say, showing it’s years, and was looking out of place alongside all the nice shiny Canadians. Not to worry we move about 10 metres away, under a tree, and more importantly out of sight of the Canoe Police.
So a nice drink at The Saracens Head and Tiff explains why we have helmets with us: We are going back down via the west side of the island. Now I am really glad I never got the pub this morning. She did offer me the option of going down with her in the Canadian but I could not pass up this opportunity ……. I was like a child I was that excited.
So for some strange reason Tiff and Margaret leave us to our own devices and trust that we will be able to get back into the Kayaks on our own, theirs is tied up further down,…..they obviously do not know us very well. Annie insisted on me getting in first, I believe she hoped to see me go swimming again, not this time, I am in first time like the pro that I am not. I then held my Kayak alongside Annies so hers was sandwiched between the dock and mine. Typical Germans…they don’t trust anyone…she is still tentative. Fortunately a member of the public who was sitting on the dock, and more importantly not associated with the Canoe Police, offered a hand. He steadied her Kayak while she slid in.
Now we are ready and start to make our way down…..no we are not…...Annie noticed that my helmet was not secured. I knew she kinda cared. We must have spent the best part of 10 minutes paddling wee circles before we eventually got the straps right. So now, while I may lose my life, at least my head will possibly remain attached the shoulders or at least to the helmet.
And down we go…….go…..go
WOW…..WOW…...OH BLOODY WOW….
I genuinely cannot describe what it is like going down rapids, even small ones like these, for the first time. It was awesome, it was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious awesome…it was fecking brilliant.
It was just an amazing hit. I am not too sure but I think I went down first, I remember looking around at Annie and seeing this stupid grin of a smile a mile wide on her face……...that was how it felt……..., that was how I felt. There was no aprons on our Kayaks so three times the water just bucketed in but it didn’t matter…..it was just so amazing. ( Looking forward to next year ).
Once the rapids were behind us it was bit of a doddle of a paddle downstream. As we pulled up the kids, under the supervision of Sam and a couple of other adults, were just starting to get organised. Our timing was near perfect and though a bit damp we were still alive and still smiling.
So for some strange reason Tiff and Margaret leave us to our own devices and trust that we will be able to get back into the Kayaks on our own, theirs is tied up further down,…..they obviously do not know us very well. Annie insisted on me getting in first, I believe she hoped to see me go swimming again, not this time, I am in first time like the pro that I am not. I then held my Kayak alongside Annies so hers was sandwiched between the dock and mine. Typical Germans…they don’t trust anyone…she is still tentative. Fortunately a member of the public who was sitting on the dock, and more importantly not associated with the Canoe Police, offered a hand. He steadied her Kayak while she slid in.
Now we are ready and start to make our way down…..no we are not…...Annie noticed that my helmet was not secured. I knew she kinda cared. We must have spent the best part of 10 minutes paddling wee circles before we eventually got the straps right. So now, while I may lose my life, at least my head will possibly remain attached the shoulders or at least to the helmet.
And down we go…….go…..go
WOW…..WOW…...OH BLOODY WOW….
I genuinely cannot describe what it is like going down rapids, even small ones like these, for the first time. It was awesome, it was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious awesome…it was fecking brilliant.
It was just an amazing hit. I am not too sure but I think I went down first, I remember looking around at Annie and seeing this stupid grin of a smile a mile wide on her face……...that was how it felt……..., that was how I felt. There was no aprons on our Kayaks so three times the water just bucketed in but it didn’t matter…..it was just so amazing. ( Looking forward to next year ).
Once the rapids were behind us it was bit of a doddle of a paddle downstream. As we pulled up the kids, under the supervision of Sam and a couple of other adults, were just starting to get organised. Our timing was near perfect and though a bit damp we were still alive and still smiling.
So not long later and we are back in camp changing from water gear to walking gear. The plan is to do a bit of circle, cross the river using Bilbins Bridge, wander up to Symonds Yat, consume a beverage, head up to the rock and come down a different path…...what can go wrong. ( Actually not much )
So Aunty M, Annie and myself head off to Wales, forgot to mention that if you cross Bilbin’s Bridge you are in Cymru, then we set off following my route from earlier this morning, we walk about 300 metres and once again we are back in Albion, or even England. No wonder we would get, not lost, but mislaid later, moving from one country to another then back again.
Not long after we see some of our group of fellow campers about to set off in the canoes.
You can see Sam in the above photographs giving us directions on how to get lost and something else.
Initially I thought she was saying:
"If you are going to Somalia I think it is the wrong time of year".
No that was not it.
"If you are going to Somalia I would not start from here".
Nearly there and good advice too; we were definitely on the wrong side of the river if we were heading for east Africa.
"If you are going to Symonds Yat I think you should have a beer".
Now that just makes perfect sense. Good tip, well done Sam.
So after a not very long and a not very exhausting short walk we decided we wanted, not needed, to take Sam's advice and have a drink before walking up a big rock.
Margaret’s was a coffee, it was a latte or even cappuccino; I know it was made on milk, Annie's was a whiskey and ginger and mine was going to be something wet in a pint glass.
There was a young lad working behind the counter who took my order while another older man was cleaning the pipes. The coffee was up first and while he asked which Whiskey I would prefer and what ale I would like the older man asked what type of coffee he had made. When the young lad told him the older man goes over to the machine, takes out a different cup places it beneath the machine and tells him to make it again using the right cup this time…..a bit harshly done I thought at the time. The older man then walks over to me, takes the coffee from in front of me, forcibly throws the coffee down the sink while throwing daggers at the young lad. This isn’t harsh this guy is just a serious contender for dickhead of the weekend. He then turns his attention to me and tells me not to go for the ale the lad had recommended but go for Falling Star instead. About now the machine, which is pouring hot milk into the right cup, decides to start spluttering and runs out. Again the man throws daggers at the lad and tells him to change the milk, as if it is his fault that customers bought too many milky coffees. I remember the thought entering my head that I should just tell mister champion crap hole where to go and walk out but immediately realised that the king of assholeness would just blame the young lad ( actually he was early - mid twenties so not a child by any means ) ( I am still trying to tell myself if I made the right decision) . Instead I decided on distraction and asked him why he was cleaning the lines, how it was done, how often it was done. In fairness I had only worked behind a bar for twenty odd years. Long story short it appeared to work, while I was the only customer a few moments ago there was now several others around and they were both kept busy serving. Okay, rant over.
As I made my way back to the two fair maidens ( Ha ) I met one of the men who was clearing the tables looked like a friend of ours, John the Map, I asked this chap was there a difference in England between Ale and Bitter……….he even sounded like John and waffled on for about 5 minutes about yeast, malted barley, fermentation, hops. He definitely went in a circle or two and I caught a look in his eye that told me, like his lookalike John, he had a point but did not have a clue how to get there. I am not saying he was anally retentive but he must be seriously puckered up down there. I left none the wiser.
So a short time later and we are heading up Yat Rock.
So Aunty M, Annie and myself head off to Wales, forgot to mention that if you cross Bilbin’s Bridge you are in Cymru, then we set off following my route from earlier this morning, we walk about 300 metres and once again we are back in Albion, or even England. No wonder we would get, not lost, but mislaid later, moving from one country to another then back again.
Not long after we see some of our group of fellow campers about to set off in the canoes.
You can see Sam in the above photographs giving us directions on how to get lost and something else.
Initially I thought she was saying:
"If you are going to Somalia I think it is the wrong time of year".
No that was not it.
"If you are going to Somalia I would not start from here".
Nearly there and good advice too; we were definitely on the wrong side of the river if we were heading for east Africa.
"If you are going to Symonds Yat I think you should have a beer".
Now that just makes perfect sense. Good tip, well done Sam.
So after a not very long and a not very exhausting short walk we decided we wanted, not needed, to take Sam's advice and have a drink before walking up a big rock.
Margaret’s was a coffee, it was a latte or even cappuccino; I know it was made on milk, Annie's was a whiskey and ginger and mine was going to be something wet in a pint glass.
There was a young lad working behind the counter who took my order while another older man was cleaning the pipes. The coffee was up first and while he asked which Whiskey I would prefer and what ale I would like the older man asked what type of coffee he had made. When the young lad told him the older man goes over to the machine, takes out a different cup places it beneath the machine and tells him to make it again using the right cup this time…..a bit harshly done I thought at the time. The older man then walks over to me, takes the coffee from in front of me, forcibly throws the coffee down the sink while throwing daggers at the young lad. This isn’t harsh this guy is just a serious contender for dickhead of the weekend. He then turns his attention to me and tells me not to go for the ale the lad had recommended but go for Falling Star instead. About now the machine, which is pouring hot milk into the right cup, decides to start spluttering and runs out. Again the man throws daggers at the lad and tells him to change the milk, as if it is his fault that customers bought too many milky coffees. I remember the thought entering my head that I should just tell mister champion crap hole where to go and walk out but immediately realised that the king of assholeness would just blame the young lad ( actually he was early - mid twenties so not a child by any means ) ( I am still trying to tell myself if I made the right decision) . Instead I decided on distraction and asked him why he was cleaning the lines, how it was done, how often it was done. In fairness I had only worked behind a bar for twenty odd years. Long story short it appeared to work, while I was the only customer a few moments ago there was now several others around and they were both kept busy serving. Okay, rant over.
As I made my way back to the two fair maidens ( Ha ) I met one of the men who was clearing the tables looked like a friend of ours, John the Map, I asked this chap was there a difference in England between Ale and Bitter……….he even sounded like John and waffled on for about 5 minutes about yeast, malted barley, fermentation, hops. He definitely went in a circle or two and I caught a look in his eye that told me, like his lookalike John, he had a point but did not have a clue how to get there. I am not saying he was anally retentive but he must be seriously puckered up down there. I left none the wiser.
So a short time later and we are heading up Yat Rock.
It is a short ( half a mile ) but steep climb. The walk starts off by going through a heavily wooded area and this does not open out completely until you reach the top. Then you are rewarded with these fantastic views of the surrounding countryside. There was four bird watchers ( not Twitchers ) keeping an eye on a family of Peregrine Falcons. One of the party were telling me that the fledglings were hanging around a couple of weeks longer than they normally would. Well we were not hanging around that long. It was time we got lost…...and so we did….get lost.
We had a little under 2 miles to get back to camp but somehow manage to go slightly off track, not too far, after a couple of minutes we found a unmarked track that brought us down to the river. So truth be told we did not get lost but just temporarily mislaid ourselves….as one does.
Back at camp it was how shall we say Showtime. Everyone had to preform a party piece. It was mainly for the kids but truth be told I think us bigger kids got as much of a kick out of it. The kids loved their gymnastics so much so that Aunty M and Tiff gave it a go, and not a bad go at that. Annie and myself done a wee jive to Jolene sung by a very enthusiastic audience. ( I was going to say musically challenged audience but thought better of it as I may want to return to this camp sometime.)
One of the kids asked me if I spoke a different language….I asked him why he thought so…….the answer…..because you speak funny. Perhaps I should tell my Mum to get her money back from our elocution teacher.
So the day finished with everyone gathered around a campfire under the stars. I would say there is a couple of dozen or more of us in a large circle, eating toasted marshmallows, having a drink, loads of different conversations going on, plenty of banter and general crack. As the night wore on the herd slowly thinned until eventually there is just Annie & myself. I was informed the following day that among other things we discussed J.R.R. Tolkein and J.K. Rowling and their works. Apparently it was an interesting conversation…..or so I am told.
We had a little under 2 miles to get back to camp but somehow manage to go slightly off track, not too far, after a couple of minutes we found a unmarked track that brought us down to the river. So truth be told we did not get lost but just temporarily mislaid ourselves….as one does.
Back at camp it was how shall we say Showtime. Everyone had to preform a party piece. It was mainly for the kids but truth be told I think us bigger kids got as much of a kick out of it. The kids loved their gymnastics so much so that Aunty M and Tiff gave it a go, and not a bad go at that. Annie and myself done a wee jive to Jolene sung by a very enthusiastic audience. ( I was going to say musically challenged audience but thought better of it as I may want to return to this camp sometime.)
One of the kids asked me if I spoke a different language….I asked him why he thought so…….the answer…..because you speak funny. Perhaps I should tell my Mum to get her money back from our elocution teacher.
So the day finished with everyone gathered around a campfire under the stars. I would say there is a couple of dozen or more of us in a large circle, eating toasted marshmallows, having a drink, loads of different conversations going on, plenty of banter and general crack. As the night wore on the herd slowly thinned until eventually there is just Annie & myself. I was informed the following day that among other things we discussed J.R.R. Tolkein and J.K. Rowling and their works. Apparently it was an interesting conversation…..or so I am told.
Sunday morning and again we are up pretty bright and early. Some of the guys went for a swim, I opted for a more conventional shower. They have solar heated shower until on site and I thought they were very good, it is a fairly big room, I have rented smaller ones in the past that came with a bed, these units even have a chair there if you want to bring a loved one to watch you and make sure you get all the dirty bits. How accommodating.
As we are preparing to head off M spots a group of lads with their shirts off and reckons they had just came off Love Island. So now we know what she watches in her spare time, which is possibly about an hour every other week.
So a short while later, good byes, promises of a return visit ( here's hoping ) and we are on the way. Of course we did manage to take a wrong turn but of course Super Aunty M is not fazed, does a u turn, and before you can say wasntthatafantasticcoupleofdays we are on course and back at the airport.
Looking forward to next year.
As we are preparing to head off M spots a group of lads with their shirts off and reckons they had just came off Love Island. So now we know what she watches in her spare time, which is possibly about an hour every other week.
So a short while later, good byes, promises of a return visit ( here's hoping ) and we are on the way. Of course we did manage to take a wrong turn but of course Super Aunty M is not fazed, does a u turn, and before you can say wasntthatafantasticcoupleofdays we are on course and back at the airport.
Looking forward to next year.