July 13, Carlisle

The day began with a walk to the train station.  Since I am leaving for Newcastle tomorrow, I wanted to make sure the station was easy to find and so on. 

 I, always fearing potential disaster, had already purchased my train ticket

Then it was off to see the sights and the sites, too, some of which I was planning on returning to, like the Cathedral for example:

This arch was adorable:

I went to a couple of major parks, which were ever so nice!  But at one point I veered off the derech (path) and had to cut through a trailer park where this horrible little yappy dog came after me.  I screamed at him very much, especially after he nipped at my leg.

Bad, bad dog!

One park had an Asian section, but the only Asian item was this pagoda:

It was a very small Asian section.

The Hadrian's Wall walk passes through Carlisle.  To play that up, three or four huge boulders have been set on bases because maybe the scratches on the surface mean something old:

And one is supposed to be awash with a feeling of reverence, I think.  The selfie is not part of the display.

A decorated mosaic seat I will call Roman-evocative:

The walk also went through a golf course:

After the walk came the castle.  

When they shot whatever out of this window, or whatever they did (maybe they just looked)

 for sure they did not see:

When the men folk were buy attending to fires and such, the women folk were tasked with raining down boulders onto the heads of the invaders:

Apparently they did this with much enthusiasm:

I did not think that the castle was well curated or all that interesting.  Here are my big takeaways:

Next stop: Interior of the Cathedral.

Doggies who go the church are good doggies!  Yes, they are!

I had the most fascinating time at the cathedral.  A volunteer spent a huge amount of time talking to me about the magnificent organ:

And many other fascinating features of the cathedral.  Here is just one:

The underside of that bench shows Richard II being crowned by two heavenly cherubs.  According to the gentleman expert, that was taking the divine right of kings a little too far.


Last stop was the museum. I will skip to the three pieces worth commenting on. 

This is Sisera's mother:

In case you need a refresher on the Song of Deborah, here it is in short.  Sisera, the Canaanite general who is losing the battle, runs away and takes shelter in the tent of Ya'el. "He asked for water and she gave him milk; she gave him milk in a lordly bowl." Anyway, he drinks the milk, falls at her feet, and she hammers a tent peg into his temple.  Meanwhile, Sisera's mother is looking out the window in anticipation of her son's victorious return, imagining his bringing spoils such as many dyed fabrics.  Curation:  "Sisera's Arab mother....."  Don't even get me started!

Then there was this Ophelia: 

She symbolized opposing sides of womanhood that could not be reconciled?  Huh?  Sometimes I wish I drank.

This lady represents "joyful resistance:"

She does not look as if she is resisting very much, IMO.  

July 12, Caldbeck to Carlisle

 Today began with a crisis. When I tried to leave the pub, the key to the exit door would not turn in the lock.  Now to backtrack.  I had asked, when I checked in, if there was anything I needed to know about how the lock worked—I ALWAYS ask this—and the kid who was showing me to my room said there was not and that furthermore, there would be someone on the premises at 5:00 a.m. (about which I was quite dubious) so that the regular door would be open.  A sixteen mile day lay ahead and I was locked inside the Oddfellows Arms.  I phoned, no answer, of course, nor do they have an emergency contact number.  There wasn't even a window you could break in order to get out.  I called 999, spoke to the police who told me to speak to the fire people, none of whom could help.  I was enraged and actually terrified at being locked in.  After about the fifth try, the key turned in the lock and then you  have to know to turn the door handle down because that is a British thing.  This took about 20 minutes.  Was I ever glad to get out of there.

The walk was not difficult—a couple of small navigational errors, easily corrected—but it was pretty dull, especially near the end when you have to walk miles on a bike path.  Deadly.  Let's put it this way, I don't think there was a single bench on the entire route

Notice the absence of mountains:

Vegetation like this:

But wow!  Take a look at this iv(or)y tower!

It was a sleepy sort of day:

But theses guys were not wasting any time:

Why the long face, horsie?

"Well, since you won't give me anything, I guess I will just have to fend for myself:"

Sheep wool hanging out to dry

Look to the left and you see barley, lots and lots of barley:

Look to the right, and you see this:

Can you see who is hiding in the woods?

Teasel:

 Thistle

Apparently they come from entirely different families. Had it not been for a woman we (Alex and Alex and I) met last year who had a gorgeous metal railing with  a teasel motif, I would have spent the  rest of my life thinking that teasel was a British way of pronouncing thistle!  There is so much to learn!

This photo was taken on the 13th, but fits so well with the thistle and the teasel!  It is a blue globe thistle

Approaching Carlisle, I encountered an  (old) woman in a wheelchair, walking her dog....she wasn't walking but the dog was, but you can't say rolling her dog.  Anyway, she asked me if I were a fisherwoman!  "No," I told her.  "Well what are you dressed up as?" "A hiker."  She asked me where I was going, so I asked her where she was going. "To the cemetery," she said.  "It is very pretty there."

I don't think it was this one, though:

Carlisle is a surprisingly attractive, small  city....well, at least the part I have seen.  Tomorrow will be a day of exploration and sightseeing.

July 11, Keswick

This is the day I did not walk from Keswick to Caldbeck.  Instead I did a bunch of walks in the woods and fields on the western shore or maybe it was the eastern shore of Dentwater.  I was not sorry for the decision, although it seems I have to tell myself that every chance I get!  Oh.....skipping ahead....at the Oddfellows bar in Caldbeck, I was talking with a woman to whom I said, inter alia, that one of the things I worried about on the route was the scrambling, and she said, "No, there is no scrambling.  There are just i a couple of places you have to put one arm way up here and hold on, and your other arm way up there...." and that was enough!  Back to Keswick.

What a way to start out!

So calm!  So majestic!

How do you like your views?  Plain?

With sheep?

With sheep, and trees, and walls, and hills that may or may not be alive with the sound of music?

If only I spoke doggie-language I might have found out what this dog was so eagerly searching for in the stream.  He was having the best doggie-day ever:

Oh, how the mighty have fallen:

An example of a not helpful directional sign:

Example of a helpful directional sign....if you happen to be going in that direction, of course:

One excursion I took through lovely fields was to Stone Circle.  I was expecting some Druid,  or Roman, or Norman or Saxon or whatever mound that an archeologist had determined with utter certainty was the marker of the festival of the full moon on the third month of the tenth year of the ritual of initiating young boys into the clan as warriors by presenting each with a stout club after which roast pig was consumed with mead and much merriment and song.  But, no, It was actually not even a circle but rather two sides of a square.  No matter, the walk was terrific.

When I returned to the hotel a little after 1:00 to await the taxi, I noted with horror that my suitcase was not there!  AND my locator had run out of charge (my fault)  Anyway, it turned out that Sherpa had picked up the bag even though they were not supposed to and were taking it to Caldbeck, which was absolutely fine.  But there was some drama there until it all "got sorted."

Caldbeck is a cute little village:

After making—and consuming— a tuna sandwich, I headed out on a three mile circular walk that someone said was gorgeous. It was hot and I had already walked seven hours and tomorrow is a 15+ mile day, so I did not do the whole thing, which is a shame because it really was a gem of a trail. 

One of the sadder moments came at the defunct bobbin factory.  Even the plaque telling you all about it was illegible:

Ah, yes, once upon a time, these ruins were a factory

As the name might suggest, the Oddfellows is a greasy-spoon pub with rooms.  Very small rooms.  There is a sign on the window of my room:

And there was a great big dead fly in the shower, but they do give you a fan and there are sufficient outlets for charging devices—if you unplug the lamp and the kettle— and the hot water is hot.  Although it is noisy, cooking odors have not escaped up to the second floor.  Fellpack House in Keswick was a whole lot nicer!