I don't know since when did I ever consider the journey back home is considered as a travel in itself.
For once, I was again annoyed at how inefficient British airports are after being put through heightened security measures in the aftermath of a car bomb made safe in Piccadilly Circus. Made me go without dinner, and had to endure hunger till the air stewards and stewardesses serves us 'supper', which is our dinner actually. That's not the point. The thing is, the journey back home, back to a place where I'm born is actually magical. Maybe because it's my first trip home. Maybe bacause I'm excited about seeing my family after 9 months. But what I can be sure is that as my tears fall uncontrollably on the early 6.23am morning of 1st July on my bed, I wonder if this is a journey home or a journey to my heart.
Too many things happened at home. All too many.
When I finally touched down at Singapore Changi and after meeting my sis while she abuse her security pass in the airport, the purchase of Cordon Bleu for my dad and finally the collection of my luggages actually jerked me out of my senses. My mum couldn't recognise me. Yes, even though I walked past her with only a glass panel between us, my sis had to point me out to her explicitly. And she cried. I regret not giving her a hug right there and then. When I saw her red eyes and her will trying hard to force back her tears, all I could do was to hold my hand up to her face and brush away her tears. My heart melted for her right there and then. I had never known I loved my mum so much, this one is for her.
Then all information about my family started to be synchronised between them and me.
My beloved grandma broke her arm a few months back.
My cousin had leukaemia. She's fine now, after receiving blood marrow from her brother.
My godma had a minor stroke again. My goddad is in poor health, and their son just did very badly in mid-year by failing English.
And many many other things that they never wanted to tell me when I'm in London, just so I do not worry. But do I not worry? Sis, if you're reading this let me tell you that I'm even MORE worried now. What else do I not know? What else is happening? I do not want a life where no news is bad news, for my family is keeping a lot from me.
When my mum came in just now to switch off the air-conditioner for us right before she starts her daily routine of work and work, I wasn't asleep. I didn't wake up exactly to tell her I'm wide awake, but I called her and she presumed I went back to bed. All the familiarity of my old lifestyle before I left for London came back again as old, but yet so many things have changed.
Right now, I do not know what to do. Sleeping for 5 hours and suffering insomnia after a 30 hour bid not to sleep before, during and after the 13 hour flight is not normal. Waking up after that 5 hour sleep feeling all emotions rushed in isn't shiok either. Neither is crying in my bed an awesome thing to do.
Coming back after the 1st 9 months away in foreign lands is simply not easy. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
110607 – 130607: Inverness
Inverness, capital of the Scottish highlands. And it’s actually a small city. The activity in Inverness largely centres around the train station area, where the main shopping district is just next to it, so is the bus station. The only castle in the city lies at the end of the shopping street, which isn’t far either. Everything seems small and cosy, except for one thing: there’s no pub kitchen open for business after 9pm. Unbelievable? Yes, I can’t believe it either. Reaching Inverness at 8pm on Monday, me and Yan Neng did not realise this fact either. We went to check into our hostel, and the reception did not tell us about this when we ask about eating places. While we were walking around at 9.30pm, asking every pub that we came across whether they still serve food, all their kitchens are closed. WTF. We had fish and chips and steak pie off a fast food joint, stuff ourselves all too full with a jumbo smoked sausage, some fried shrimp thingy whose name I can hardly remember and hot lentil soup. But still, that’s our 1st fast food in all the days we’re in Scotland.
We haven’t really got time to explore Inverness actually, for most of the days we spent here are to use it as a launch pad to explore Loch Ness and the highlands. Yes, Loch Ness lie 25km from Inverness, they both feed off the River Ness that runs from the north. Our first tour was by Puffins Express. As the name suggest, we’re here to watch some puffins!
John O’Groats
I booked this tour on the net, for 27 quid per pax for a day trip. And guess what, I didn’t know exactly where old Johnny Groaty was till the last day. I booked it after reading that it has some good wildlife and the likes. Actually, John O’Groats lie in the north of Scotland, almost the northernmost tip. Yes, we went all the way up without knowing. Along the way, we are fed with terrific coastal scenery, wildlife like the red deer and seals, farm life like the highland cows (Yan Neng is so thrilled by them everytime she sees them) and most importantly, puffins! We did see a couple, and it’s not easy to see them. I guess we were just lucky, ha. All the way up at John O’Groats, where the stacks and cliffs form so beautiful a picturesque scenery that it seems the rest are not that important. No city buzz to distract me from being one with nature, ha. We were also brought into the forest to see some gorge where the valley is less than 1 metre in some places! And the waterfall here is pretty cute too, all very Robin Hood like. Typical British forest I guess, I can’t really tell the difference between English and Scottish treetop landscape, haha, at least not here. I must say, highland coasts are mostly cliffs, like the highlands broke off into the sea. The rock formations are gorgeous, it puzzles me how we travellers always look towards Europe for travel destinations but miss out on UK beauties. At least for me, I’m not willing to miss out on what the British landscape has to offer me. No wonder travel magazines always rate Britain as one of the top choices when it comes to natural landscape. It’s as varied as I can imagine, except for some gigantic magnificent waterfall and a good mountain to climb like Kilimanjaro.
Loch Ness
I think this place is not just a ‘been here, done that’ kind of tourist location. In fact, taking on the tour to bring us to Loch Ness and cross the lake on a cruise to one of the more prominent castles in Scottish and English history costs us only 16.50 quid. And guess what, we are the only ones who took up the tour that day. Hence the entire bus only has me, Yan Neng and the cute old man for a driver as well as tour guide. He has his sleeves full of stories for us everywhere he drove us. So, we got pretty much a personalised service, haha. Going on the tour means we got no time for Loch Ness Monster exhibitions. You must be screaming, what did you go Loch Ness for? Actually, the beauty of the trip does not like in some stupid myth or legend. To be frank, Loch Ness offers so beautiful a landscape you can’t forget even weeks after visiting it. The long-ish lake, flanked on its banks by highlands and their forests, gives a tranquil feeling. Couple that with the lake mist that accompanied us on our cruise makes it all magical. Well, it was actually a foreboding of a storm which kinda caught us a bit, but by then we had reached Urquhart Castle and entered the exhibition centre for some weather shield. By the time we finished the exhibition, the weather cleared and it’s all sunny and bright again on the ruins! I must say, the castle is a very good place for taking beautiful pictures. Why so? Picture this: a medieval castle built on the banks of a loch famous for its monster, and all its surroundings are filled with high grounds and forests. As the Chinese saying goes, got mountains got water and got antiquity, what’s more to complain about? Haha, don’t know what I’m talking about anyway. But I seriously took a whole lot of pictures here. Wouldn’t ever mind coming back again, though I’d do a trek from Fort William to Inverness through Loch Ness. That should be interesting, ha.
090607 – 110607: Edinburgh
I think I wanna try something different again. Instead of the usual day logs, I gonna do a city log instead. This is because I’ve been to Edinburgh before, and I only wanna update on new stuff for this trip.
1st thing, thank you Yan Neng for making this trip a fun one. I’m sure we had lots to talk about, particularly you-know-who. Hey, seems like I haven’t been thanking people who travelled with me. Ok, all my travel buddies, a big thank you! (I’m just lazy to list one by one, there’re too many!
I’ve done on Edinburgh Castle, Calton Hill and the necropolis before. In a very detail manner I think. Now this will be on the rest.
Holyroodhouse Palace
This is the official residence of British monarchs in Scotland. Nope, they do not stay in the castle. Surprised? Actually, they alternate between the castle and the palace back in the olden days before the union of the kingdoms. There’s a royal palace in the castle as well, but it’s pretty much a hassle to move up and down the castle, isn’t it? What’s better, the Holyroodhouse palace has a beautiful garden in summer, but I’ll come to that later.
In essence, what’s special about this palace has always been replicated in all other castles and palaces: the State Apartments. Come to think of it, it’s the usual ‘when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen all’ and ‘been there, done that’ thingy. But the garden is a unique and beautiful piece of botanic art in itself. I’m just lucky that I did not visit this place during winter, I would have missed the nicest part of the palace. The gardens are not opened in winter, for goodness sake. Don’t say I’ve never warned you. Before you start on the gardens, it’s always nice to visit the ruins of Holyroodhouse Abbey, the reason why the palace was built. This abbey is essentially catholic (duh), but it used to house the Scottish monarchs, after which the palace was built to provide a more reasonable accommodation and respectable office building for the use of the monarchs in everyday state affairs. Still, ruins are nice.
Now, the gardens are split into 2 parts, the 1st had flowers and trees blossoming in summer. I don’t really know what their names are, which kinda spoilt the mood for garden visiting. The 2nd part contains some ruins, and stretches of flat lawns for archery. Yes, archery. That’s where the palace guards used to practise their skills. Confused? The Scottish monarchs didn’t used to have guards, it’s an archery society who volunteered themselves into the services of the crown and hence, they became palace guards. The entire scenery is bounded by the palace building and Arthur’s Seat. It’s essentially a volcanic structure, a beautiful manifestation of nature itself.
The Whisky Experience
Ah-ha! It is not any ordinary whisky, it’s scotch whisky. I highly recommend liquor drinkers to go on this, for 7 pounds at student price, you get a free whisky glass, a free whisky shot (what kind of whisky you get depends on your luck, I got Johnny Walker’s red label!) and some interesting information about whisky no doubt. Not to mention you get good discounts on 70cl bottles in the whisky shop at the end of the exhibition. Ha. Anyway, I think I wanna boast about my purchases more, which are 35cl and 20cl bottles of some sweet and citrus whisky which I’m quite quite sure it’s not easy to get in London itself, or so I assume. Got a good size of a 10 year old for Eng Kiat. Brother, don’t say I never buy anything for your 21st birthday ok. Oh, I did round up the entire purchase spree with a 35cl of Famous Grouse, which I know I can get anywhere in London =X
Museum of Childhood
This is one big, creepy museum. It’s interesting the moment you enter, because you get to see olden day items that are very much associated with kids and childhood, from babies to young kids and even games played by young adults. Why big? It spans 5 stories, discounting the ground level. Why creepy? It has a pretty massive collection of dolls, all types all sizes. Kinda remind me of Queen Anne’s dollhouse in Windsor. Yuck, Chucky freaks me out, so does Chucky’s bride and all of their associates and the likes. But some of the fun comes from machines operating on coins, displaying haunted houses. For 5p or 10p, you get some half a minute of entertainment where they try to scare you with ghosts popping out of everywhere in the dollhouse. Ha, that’s more for us to ridicule I think.
Arthur’s Seat
This volcanic hill is enticing enough to last you at least half a day’s visit. But despite being called a hill, its slopes are so steep you would think you can train yourselves by running up and down the hill regularly. What’s worse, the height of the hill commands you to adjust ear pressures because you’ve been climbing steep slopes. But the view at the top is rewarding, absolutely. While you climb the altitude, the sights change from a top-down view of Holyroodhouse Palace to a grand paranomic landscape spanning the entire Royal Mile and beyond. Whatever can challenge your view is the castle rock on which loams the majestic Edinburgh castle! And just to admit, I slacked for a few hours just sitting on the hill, enjoying the sun and the breeze that seems to exist only at the altitude.
That’s all for Edinburgh I think. Oh before I forget, I did by chance travelled on 1st Class to Edinburgh from London. 40 quid per pax, it’s unforgettable given it’s my virgin experience. Oops, haha.
050607: Moroccan waterfalls
The last day before we fly off on the 6th. And today is waterfall day. Supposedly.
We packed clothes to change in, preparing to dip in. When we arrived at the falls, it’s just pure amazement. I would have jumped in if I had suicidal thoughts. Dying in such beautiful scenery is worth every drop of life, ok maybe not. That’s too pessimistic, and would make the waterfall look uglier than it is.
The gushing of water beneath my very feet is an unspeakable feeling. It’s like, the world is anxious to sweep you off your feet with its ravenous hunger within the ever-flowing energies of the waters. And there I was, standing at the very top of the falls, looking downwards into the plunge pool. As I lift my head upwards to look at the horizon, mountain cliffs and hill tops clutter my view, parted by the very valley that the waterfall plunge into. Wow, how romantic can it get, except that the place is piled with tourists. Sianz.
Tracking downwards to the bottom isn’t that hard, except that I got myself stepped into a mud pool, then tried to wash the mud off in a small stream and realise my slippers do slip big time when wet. The result was barefoot tracking down the slope for ¾ of the journey down. Quite an adventure though, never tried tracking barefooted before. Kinda feels so close to nature. Nice comfortable feeling in the woods, till I came out into the open. OUCH! The ground is just burning hot. Can’t wait to jump into the pool =X
And I can only say, I’ve never regretted pool swimming. The freezing cold water, gushing by the gallons from the waterfall, accompanied by the burning sun when you splash out of the water. A statement to swear by, THIS IS LIFE! Partial sun tanning with some peanuts that Su Kuen bought. What else can you ask for? Picturesque scenery, cool waters, nice hot sun, and fragrant peanuts. Haiz, why did I discover this so late?
040607: Marrakesh
It’s a rest day from all the coach travelling of the past 2 days. Largely a walk through Marrakesh, and we took horse carriages to this pretty garden which I do not know it’s name. Kinda disadvantaged that I don’t know French, I realise. Can’t even remember the name of places I’ve been to.
But I got so irritated with the way the coach drivers whipped the horses. I could even see whipping scars on their asses! Pissed, and I guess I’m starting to realise what animal rights are all about. A beast is like a human, they do not deserve to be slaves to others. Either you kill them, or live harmoniously together. But not whipping them just so it can earn you your next meal! As an afterthought, I realise that my passion for animals extend to mammals and birds only. No reptiles, no fishes and most importantly, no invertebrates and snakes!!! Ok, I concede snakes are a kind of reptiles. Still a no-no.
The garden greets us with a entire pitch of cacti. Not just any cactus, but all sorts and sizes. I guess most of the species are here, particularly local ones. Not to mention a Moroccan version of bamboo forest, kinda make me feel that I’ve come to China instead of Marrakesh. A very big contrast with the cacti no doubt. However, the garden is not very big, and we couldn’t spend more than an hour lingering in there.
The next destination was a castle in the city. An emptied castle, with some ruins. Emptied castles are no fun. Ever. Just a hollow nutshell. But me and Janice found a underground cellar which was kinda cool, literally. And some of the natural lighting here provides for nice pictures. I think that’s like the only highlight of the day. Haiz.
The rest of the day was largely shopping. And shopping aren’t something to log about.
020607 - 030607: Sahara desert
Wake up early for Sahara desert. Actually, the girls woke us up. Apparently, they forget that their mobile phone time is an hour behind Marrakesh. Hence, they woke up and got all excited an hour earlier than expected. Wow.
Badir came to fetch us. Set off for the mountains, and passed through Mount Atlas and the ridges. Seriously, the view is just unspeakable. Check out my Facebook album if you want a look. And the most embarrassing thing was when I went to pee in the dry terrain. Weihan was sick enough in the brain to take a picture of me pissing. WTF
Terrain was initially full of trees and greenery, but it slowly changed into dry, and inhabitable landscape. Everywhere was the unmistakable yellow, and greenery are just bits and patches, here and there. It’s hard to believe there’s people surviving in this sort of environment, and for thousands of years no less. Gorges are simply gorgeous, if you don’t mind the pun. It’s amazing to see how the river cuts up the different layers of rock, only to dry up and leave its scars in the earth. Kinda make me grateful for taking geography for GCE ‘O’ levels.
We arrived at a town, where Badir dropped us for lunch at a restaurant, and we had a couple of minutes to spare for a visit to a castle in the town. In fact, I do not even classify it as a castle, it’s just a big big empty house. Empty and nothing much to see. The most significant benefit that we’ve gotten out of it is probably getting out of the sun into the cool shade.
Reached Zagora at approximately 6 pm. And we stopped right outside a herd of camels. Ha. Kinda cute. They gave us sashes to use as Arabian turbans. And we were split up into 2 groups. This kick-starts the camel riding for 2 hours to reach campsite. Along the way, kids simply ran up to us asking for money. There was a kid who passed a straw camel to one of us, then ask for something in return. They are even willing to negotiate for a return gift the next day. It’s saddening to see how kids are begging for money. I think it boils down more to greed, when foreigners come into the country to tour and act like they are super rich, throwing coins and such to these kids and hence giving them the wrong impression that outsiders = money. Haiz, is this poverty?
Arrival at the campsite includes a walk through the sand dunes. I must say, they are so soft they gave me a scare. The nomads began our stay with a little chat and mint tea of course. Taught us some Arabic dialect, which was kinda fun. At least for me. Dinner was a super big pot of chicken tagine, and bread too. The most significant event should be the darkening of the sky, when we could finally see the stars. There are so many, we didn’t bother counting them. Cool to look at, dreamy to marvel in. But the night was largely spoilt by moon-rising, where it’s brightness dimmed the surrounding starshine. It’s kinda late though, I’ve never experience such a late moon-rise before. And the most surprising thing was how yellow it is initially, then slowly turned whitish as it rises.
After dinner, the nomads gathered around for some sing-along entertainment, and invited us. Eventually, none of us were really interested, with exception of some Australian ang mohs also staying at the campsite.
The tents are essentially canvas built, but warm enough for us, me at least even though I was in a t-shirt and Bermudas. And they had beds for us, which was kinda surprising. Well, perhaps we had expected less in the desert. And we were told that sunrise is at 5.20, which most of us woke up for. And I must say, this sunrise is different from the others. I mean, it’s different from the sunrise I saw along Straits of Malacca while on a cruise some time ago. Again, it’s a sensation that lasts in your memories, not in words.
Breakfast started in the midst of a sandstorm. And it’s a mild one, supposedly. We had lamb’s milk, tea, crepes and bread for breakfast. But the most memorable was the camel ride through the sandstorm. Everyone made full use of the turban given, and it sure was quite useful, except for the fact that our back was facing the storm. Hence, it wasn’t too unbearable for us.
The camel rides ended with some ushering into a carpet shop, and everyone was wondering what to do. Everyone was discussing strategies in Mandarin, and it all sounded pretty cute. Ha. In the end, Tristan’s brilliant idea of hot and damp climate in Singapore and Malaysia, a weather not suitable for carpets, saved us all. The coach ride back in Badir’s vehicle was essentially a insomnia cure, everyone slept. Hee.
010607: Marrakesh
Left with Su Kuen from Bankside to Victoria. Arranged time to meet the rest there, for a coach to Luton airport, Tristan, Weihan, Janice, Yen, Beverly and Guan Sin. We were there early, and it happened that National Express coach to Luton is the same as Greenline. No wonder coach prices are the same. The flight to Marrakesh is largely plagued by sleep. Everyone is sleeping, no doubt due to the lack of it while trying to reach airport on time.
Marrakesh Menera Airport is small, simple, and not much different from Luton. But the ridiculous thing about this airport is its customs. Maybe because it’s a kingdom, but customs are particularly careful, slow and painful to wait. More importantly, with loads of ang mohs in queue with us, our queues just got slowed. Moroccans are stricter with European entry I guess. Beyond the exit, we got our guide to wait for us. And the walk to the coach was starting to bare the teeth of the African climate: hot and dry. Our coach is an 8-seater Ford, with comfortably tinted glass windows to shield us from the sun. Cool. 30 mins to Riad Ghallia.
The city of Marrakesh is backward. Buildings are largely mud built, and our hostel is more like a homestay. It’s a riad, with only 2 stories and a terrace. The 1st thing that struck us is the low door, quite literally. Even the girls have to bend down their heads to enter the building, not to mention guys. The living area of the house is open, with a nice fountain and comfortable sofa. As all Arabic families do, we were served mint tea. It’s actually Chinese green tea with mint leaves, very sweet due to the immerse amount of sugar. We had a little chat with the owner of the riad, Thierry. As the name suggested, he is French. But then again, Morocco used to be a French colony, so people here largely speaks French and Arabic. A fun guy, Thierry literally drew a map for us to navigate around with. Taught us bargaining techniques too. And not to mention things to look out for, what to do in certain situations and the such. Precious information, and useful guidance. He brought us around too, particularly the market square, and certain stalls and restaurants recommended.
As locals in most other countries will do, they immediately treat us as Japanese, especially with all the Jap greetings. But we ignored them largely, and proceed straight to the bank. Morocco uses dirham, and it has a closed currency. Hence we can’t change for the currency elsewhere. But the rates are not too bad in here, a pound sterling for approximately 16 dirhams. Or rather, 1 euro for 10 dirham is the estimate we use for most of our transactions.
A bright distinction between Moroccan market squares and others are the orange juice carts. The entire square had tons of them, all selling orange juice for 3 dirhams. This is dirt cheap, considering if they do not dilute the juice and uses good oranges. Appetizer, dessert, refreshment, they are all of them.
At restaurants, they by and large serves Arabian food. Sometimes, French food is included as well. Tagines and couscous are their mains. Tagine is this stewed meat, be it chicken, beef or mutton, with potatoes and olives, cooked in a claypot like container and has a clay cone for a lid. Its cooked over charcoal fire, and tastes pretty good. Couscous, on the other hand, is meat served with potatoes and carrots and rice too. Come to think of it, I’ve only eaten tagines. Damn, I missed couscous.
In the hot weather of Morocco, it’s hard to miss ice cream. Ice cream here isn’t made locally, but all imported. Well, not too expensive. 6, 9 and 12 dirhams for 1, 2 and 3 scoops respectively seems pretty much cheaper than what’s selling in Singapore. Brandless though, but it doesn’t matter when temperature’s hitting 38 degree centigrade. Another wonderful thing to happen in Morocco are the pastries. Dessert pastries more precisely. Hard to missed, especially the famed pastry shop in Marrakesh. More important to note is that there’s air condition in the shop! A good break, after-meal dessert or even a chilling out is perfect after walking sweatless dry in the hot sun.
The market square itself is a chaos. Random stalls manned by cobra charmers, monkey trainers and hanna tattoo ladies litter the entire place, all of them too eager to rip a couple of tens of dirhams off you. Traffic in Marrakesh is another havoc masterpiece, where donkey and horse carriages roam on almost non-existent roads and infested with motorised bicycles. It’s interesting that while Singapore government kinda restricted the use of motorised bicycles, it’s so rampantly used here in Morocco. I guess fixing up a motor on your bicycle is so much cheaper than getting a motorbike, not to mention the added advantage of paddling should the motor break down. Woot.
Towards evening time, the square starts to be filled with vehicles. These vehicles carry benches and tables, ready to set up stalls and business. By 7pm, the entire square was over-run by food stalls. Our choice for dinner: the stall with the most locals, haha. And guess what, we patronised the shop without exactly knowing what is it gonna serve us. Ha, Moroccan deep fried fish with aubergine, tomato paste for appetizer and loads of chips!
Now Su Kuen is the one who’s adventurous enough to try out the tons of stalls that litter the place. From spicy chocolate cake coupled with tea to stewed snails, there seems to be no end to what you can eat. Eating aside, an interesting stall worth noting is a ‘fishing’ stall. You try looping a circlet over a coke bottle. 5 dirhams for a game and successful tries stand to win 10 dirhams. Boxing stalls, story telling, singing and entertainment stalls. You say it, there’s likely to be one. Traditional medicine stalls are the interesting ones. Full of dried animals, from iguanas to crocodile skin and the sorts. Not to mention live reptiles in cages. Ouch.
220507 – 280507: Newcastle, Hadrian's Wall, Carlisle
This time round, I’m not doing a day by day log. Trying to do something slightly different instead. A tip log. Tips on what goes on during this entire trip.
Before I proceed, let me just be a bit lor soh and briefly go through what’s Hadrian’s Wall all about.
• Britain was under Roman rule. The British province of the Roman empire covers almost the entire England.
• The Romans couldn’t really conquer the Scots in the north, and called them barbarians.
• To define a boundary of their empire, the Romans built a wall under orders from Emperor Hadrian in northern England from Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the east to Carlisle in the west.
• Along the wall, the Romans built forts, milecastles and turrets to guard the border. They almost innovated the passports of today.
• Almost 2 millenia later, some of the walls and forts survived the test of time.
• The wall is now known widely as Hadrian’s Wall, made a British National Trail, destinated a World Heritage Site, and is almost considered a wonder in itself.
• The Trail runs across England from east coast to west coast across different terrain, an enjoyable walk for those who think nothing of trekking 80 Roman miles (147.2km).
Enough of the bullshit, let’s get down to the main work.
1. If you’ve never stepped on shit, you’ve never walked the Hadrian.
This is serious matter. No kidding. The trek across English countryside is filled with minefields: biologically degradable waste of sheep, cattle, horses and ponies litters the nice and beautifully green pastures. In a way, they help to fertilise the fields and ensures the grass continues growing. But the beasts have an interesting way of looking at the trail: it is their toilet. Whether is it due to training by their farmers, or is it by cheek, they seem only to shit along the trail, particularly the path you are treading on.
2. To enjoy the most torturous yet beautiful part of the trail fully, you need Hadrians Haul
Now some of you may think ‘what in the world is Hadrians Haul’. Here, I have to declare, truthfully and faithfully, that Hadrian’s Haul as good as saved us all the trouble we were worrying about: transporting of 10+ kg worth per pax of barang barang that includes tents, sleeping bags etc. You may not believe this, but shedding the excess weight and walking without the physical burden seriously help to make footsteps lighter. And you feel you’re more lively, you’ve more energy, you can push it further, you can even have the time to appreciate all the scenery. It’s only 5 GBP per bag, and it’s so reliable. Here I enclose its number: 07967564823. During the midst of my planning days, despite searching through all Hadrian related websites, there’s no shit written about such service. But no fear, it is here that I promote their service FOC. And their modus operandi is interesting: you are provided with a white envelope to write your name, contact details, date of transport, origin of transport and its destination. Next you insert a 5 GBP note into the envelope and attach the envelope to your bag with a rubber band. Leave your barang barang with your host and Hadrians Haul will settle the rest. By the time you’ve completed your walk for the day, you’ll find your barang barang safe and sound at the new destination. It’ll be the service that saves your day and make it more enjoyable, I promise.
3. Recommended farms and accommodation: Greencarts and Sandysike.
Greencarts lie between Chesters Fort and the main part of your trek. It is manned by this angelic lady known as Sandra, and it is due to her that we got to enjoy our trip so much more. She was helpful in our last-minute changes with her advice, especially we couldn’t think of a way to proceed with our plans due to amateurism in our trekking plans. Her angelic ways do not limit to her knowledge: she gaily provided us with some dinner when we had nothing to eat, and gave us some food for the following day. How kind is that?!?
Sandysike is another place which I would recommend animal lovers to go. The farmer himself is a kind fella who would think nothing of helping poor trekking students hungry and tired without a scrap of food. And they actually served us in their dining hall, the table fully laid out with fully English cuisine utensils! After dinner, they gave us a tour around the farm, meeting their young bull and pretty horse and such, not to mention 4 hyper and enthusiastic dogs!
4. Do not attempt to trek in the midst of bank holidays.
Hadrian’s wall lies in the countryside. For goodness’ sake, do not assume that their towns contain supermarkets! What is considered as a food shop, is simply a snack shop with almost nothing in stock but everything in price tags. The prices can be described as extortion, literally. Farmers do not buy their food in town, they have cars to drive to nearest city for food supply! Now, what do bank holidays have to do with that? If, in the cities, shops do not open on bank holidays, do you suppose there’ll be more people in towns and hence town shops will be open? The answer is no. Bank holidays are like vacuum cleaners: they suck the life of a town. Settlements are as good as dead towns and villages on bank holidays, and be assured you’ll be trapped in the midst of nowhere with houses but no one to offer you even a glass of warm milk. No matter what, avoid travelling on bank holidays.
5. Stock up on food supplies if you do not wish to splurge on pub food.
For backpackers who prefer to cook their own or have a picnic out there in the green fields, I suggest that you stock up on food in the big cities ie Newcastle and Carlisle. Food shops along in the countryside, as stated in point 4, look like disaster stricken retail outlets. They stock up on almost absolutely nothing. Anyway, locals do not shop there. They drive to nearby cities to stock up. In case you are worrying about the weight of all the food, see point 2.
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