Achensee, Austrian Tyrol

Whoever built that hut meant it to last. Four-square and stolid, it stood on the mountain, defying anything the elements might throw at it. This was a real chalet, a world away from the tacky ‘shally’ of the holiday camp.

It was still used for its rightful purpose, too. From within came a lowing, and the dull ‘tong’ of cattle bells. In former times, there’d have been accommodation on an upper story for the herder and maybe his family, for it’s a long, hard climb from the village. But, today, if he doesn’t ride up on a quad bike or something, he can always use the cable car. That’s how I got here.

The cable car

I make no excuse. I know of no rule that says that, to breathe mountain air, you must slog every foot of the way up a rather tedious zig-zag path. Nor have I ever found anything that says that you must toil all the way to the summit.

There is, of course, a downside to such a philosophy. As I aimed my camera to take a picture of the cattle-shed, a figure appeared in my view-finder. An almost completely spherical figure, dressed from head to foot in shocking pink, delicately balanced on ski-poles was heading towards the hut to see the cows. Luckily, the cows had left plenty of evidence of their passing, and the lady, apparently unwilling to gather that evidence on her pretty pink trainers, had retreated to the safety of the path, squealing in disgust!

I was almost 6000 feet up, in the Rofan Mountains in the Austrian Tirol. I’d ‘jumped ship’ from a package tour, rather than trudge around a succession of museums and souvenir shops, and took a walk. The Inn Valley provides plenty of walks like this one, and you don’t have to be a committed Alpinist to enjoy them.

The top station of the Rofan Seilbahn, as the cable car is called, lies at the lip of a corrie 2800 feet (880 metres) above the valley floor. The surrounding peaks rise about 1500 feet (470m) above that. But, the grassy corrie itself can provide an easy but substantial walk, with very little gain or loss of height.

And, you don’t have to carry lots of food with you, or wait until you’ve returned to Maurach village, far below, for refreshment. There are several bars, cafés and restaurants around the top station. Here you can sit with a Weissbier (wheat beer) and a bowl of Speckknodelsuppe (clear soup with a bacon dumpling!) and watch the hang-gliders and paragliders launching themselves off the mountain, to land on the banks of the Achensee, far below.

The rack railway from Jenbach to Achensee

Apart from the fact that it’s L-shaped, it’s tempting to compare Achensee with our own Windermere. Like Windermere, you can approach it on a steam train, the 110-year old Achenseebahn, from Jenbach down in the main valley.

Because of the steepness of the line, there’s a rack between Jenbach and Eben, at the highest point, where the rack ends, and the railway becomes a conventional one.

If you’d prefer to walk, there’s a footpath from Jenbach, from which you can still have a frequent glimpse of the little train clattering fussily up the rack, with the guard clinging to the outside of the carriages, as he proceeds along them inspecting tickets.

The line terminates at Seespitze, on the southern end of the lake, although there are tentative plans to extend it further. At present, you transfer to a boat, and sail to the main town, Pertisau, and beyond.

The road from Seespitz only goes as far as Pertisau, before leaving the lake shore. To the north of the village, a lakeside road isn’t really possible, because the Karwendel hills roll steeply right down to the shore. But, there is a footpath!

So, you can stay on the boat until Scolastika, at the head of the lake. From here, a short walk will take you to Achenkirche, overlooked by its onion-spired church on a grassy knoll above the village. From there, you could head off down the western shore of the lake towards Gaisalm.

Gaisalm, says the guidebook, is the only mountain pasture which is only accessible by boat or on foot. Here, there’s another chalet … and this one’s been converted to a restaurant. Here, I tried another Tirolean dish, Tiroler Gröstl, which is a hash of potatoes and pork, sautéed together with chives, herbs and onions. It sounds disgusting, and tastes delicious, but I really don’t recommend it unless you’re about to do some walking to burn those calories off.

Pertisau

At a guess, I’d say a walk from Pertisau to the restaurant at Gaisalm is a popular thing to do. On the gently undulating path I exchanged the obligatory ‘Grüss Gott!’ with so many people coming in the opposite direction that, by the time I got to Pertisau, my pronunciation was almost perfect!

A word of caution, though. Although, on a summer afternoon, the path is short and gentle, there are clues that it isn’t always so. It crosses quite a few streams, all flowing through seriously eroded gullies out of all proportion to their size. So, I’d suggest that quite a quantity of water comes off those mountains after heavy rain, and the path might be best avoided at such times … the boats call at Gaisalm if you need an alternative way back to Pertisau.

Pertisau is Alpine-pretty, but a bit too touristy for me. I stayed only long enough to buy an ice-cream and top up my water bottle … incidentally, if your way takes you through any town or village, there’s almost always a public fountain dispensing potable water. Instead of catching the boat, I walked back to the railway station, along a track through the woods above the road.

That track is also the local trimmbahn. Every so often there’s a piece of gymnastic apparatus made from logs from the wood, or a sign telling which exercise you must do. But, being a person who hates regimentation, I did star-jumps where it said to do press-ups, and so on!

When I got to the station, I was told the last train back to Jenbach had been cancelled, for some reason. What was I going to do? My map showed a pleasant path through the woods, by which Jenbach was only an hour’s walk away … and all downhill!

Pertisau

'Douglas' at Talyllyn

The original purpose of the narrow-gauge Talyllyn Railway, on the mid-Wales coast, was to carry slate from the Bryn Eglws quarry near Abergynolwyn down to the railway station at Tywyn..

It was also the first such railway which, when its operational life was over, attracted the attention of a Preservation Society. There was no period of disuse. The line has operated continuously since 1865. Even in its days as a slate railway, the line also carried passengers. Visitors liked to ride the railway from Tywyn to its terminus then walk in the hills for a while.

All the steam locomotives belonging to the Talyllyn Railway have an interesting history. One has been with the railway since it opened; another, over 120 years old, has spent all of its working life here. One came from the Corris Tramway, and another was designed and built by volunteers from the Society in its sheds at Pendre as recently as 1991.

But the most travelled locomotive is probably a Barclay Class E well-tank engine, which carries the number 6 and the name Douglas. It’s had a long and eventful career; half of its working life so far has been spent in the service of … the Royal Air Force!

In 1918, Douglas rolled out of the factory of Andrew Barclay, Sons & Co. in Kilmarnock, Scotland. It was one of six locomotives ordered by the Admiralty Air Service Construction Corps for transporting contractors’ materials at various Royal Naval Air Service airfields being built around the country. Naval custom of the day was that ships were the only inanimate objects to have names, so it was simply known as Locomotive 1431.

Temporary railways for carrying materials around airfield construction were used in many places, including Manston, in Kent, where L1431 was assigned. When the building work was completed, the tracks were taken up, and the engines placed in store at the Air Ministry Works & Buildings Department’s depot at West Drayton.

By this time, the Royal Air Force had been formed, and ‘inherited’ the engines from the Navy. Work was soon found for some of them.

Calshot Castle

In 1913, the RNAS had established a flying-boat and sea-plane base on Southampton Water, at Calshot Spit. Since this site was almost inaccessible by road, the contractor building the facility brought his materials from Southampton by barge. They would then be transported along the Spit by means of a temporary two-foot gauge railway to the domestic site, which was situated almost two miles away from the technical site, and the flying-boat slipway.

Because of the spread-out nature of the base, it was decided to retain the railway as a permanent fixture. It would be operated by AMW&B staff, and would be used for internal movement of personnel and stores.

In1921, 1431 was brought from West Drayton to work on the line. The rolling stock consisted of open wagons for coal and stores, one closed wagon and several passenger carriages. Most of the carriages had open sides, and were intended for use by the sergeants. There were two carriages with closed sides for the officers; the airmen marched to work behind the Station band!

Last surviving Sunderland flying boat on the slip at Calshot

The end came on 15th August 1945 – VJ Night. The sergeants lit a celebratory bonfire outside their Mess, and when the fire died down, it was suggested that some of the wagons on the nearby railway might be used for fuel. Some of the wagons had already been overturned when reason prevailed, and the proposed arson was abandoned! But, when the workmen arrived on the following morning to right the wagons, their undersides were found to be so rotted and corroded as to be dangerous.

The Station Commander ordered that the train was to run no more. The drivers were told to prepare the engines for storage and disposal and the workmen were to finish the job on the rolling stock started by the Sergeants’ Mess on VJ Night.

The two locomotives, however, were still serviceable, and came up for auction in 1949. A Birmingham engineering firm, Abelson & Co. Ltd. bought them for £60 each, intending to refurbish them before selling them on to a copper mine in India. Unfortunately, they failed to meet Indian Government specifications. So, upon hearing of the recent formation of the Talyllyn Railway Preservation Society, Abelsons’ decided to present 1431 to them.

Douglas, as 1431 had been named, after one of Abelson’s directors, started work at Talyllyn in the Spring of 1954, and continued right through until 1992, when it was withdrawn for a major overhaul, including replacement of its original boiler. Returning to service in May 1995, Douglas was ‘recalled to the colours’ over the winter of that year. To commemorate the 50th Anniversary of the end of WW2, it was painted in its original AMW&B livery, and placed on display at the RAF Museum at Hendon.

The nameplate, and the original manufacturer's plate

After a short appearance at Calshot, Douglas was returned to Talyllyn, where it continues to give pleasure to thousands of holidaymakers … probably for at least the next 90 years!

The Grand'place and town hall at Antwerp

You can’t go far in the Belgian city of Antwerp without being reminded that the city’s diamond district deals with almost 60% of the world’s diamond trade. For visitors there’s a diamond museum and a diamond showroom.

You can take diamonds home as gifts without breaking the bank. In recognition of the city’s place

Chocolate Diamonds

in the world of diamonds, chocolate diamonds are a favourite local speciality. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate and white chocolate diamonds are all available. So is a combination of any two or all three, swirled together to give a sort of marbled effect.

Another sweet Antwerp tradition is Handjes, or ‘little hands’. These are sometimes little hand-shaped sweet biscuits, often served with coffee after a meal, but, most usually, they’re hand-shaped chocolates.

In ancient times, they say, a giant called Antigoön lived on this bend in the River Scheldt, and demanded an extortionate toll from each passing ship. Those skippers unwise enough to refuse to pay had a hand chopped off. Until, one day, along came Roman hero Silvius Brabo.

‘I say, Giant!’  he said ‘This is hardly acceptable behaviour, y’know!’

‘Take a hike, Sylvia!’!’ said the giant.

The statue of Silvius Brabo, on a fountain outside the Town Hall.

Then, Brabo killed Antigoön, and chopped his hand off, and threw it into the river, an act commemorated in a statue outside the Town Hall. This, says the legend, is how Antwerp got its name; originally it was ‘Hand-werpen’ or ‘hand-throwing’.

There are, unfortunately, people who like spoiling good stories with facts. It’s nothing to do with hands, they say … the name comes from ‘aanwerp’ which simply means ‘a mound’.

 But, even if the legend is untrue, say the bakers and chocolatiers, their handjes can also symbolise the hand of friendship which Antwerp extends to its visitors.

Handjes

It rains rather a lot in Britain. Even the Tourist Board aren’t unwise enough to pretend it doesn’t. Most of our seaside resorts have, therefore, been spoilt by over-development to ‘cater for’ visitors when it’s too cold or wet for the beach.

Whitby’s different. Certainly, there are amusement arcades, fortune-tellers and gift-shops in plenty. But, since Whitby is still a working fishing port, it hasn’t been taken over completely.

Anyway, I was in Whitby researching for an article about explorer Captain James Cook. So, the weather didn’t really matter. I’d brought some no-messing mountaineering waterproofs with me, and faced the rain and the howling wind, and gained some amusement from the few tourists struggling with their cheap plastic ponchos.

But, I hoped it would brighten later, because I also wanted some pictures of Whitby Abbey for a calendar project. I didn’t get them, but walked in the footsteps of Whitby’s fictional villain, as well as its real hero!

James Cook looks out from the West Cliff

Whitby Harbour is a narrow river-mouth. On each side, a red cliff towers, and to its slopes, the old town clings. The West Cliff belongs to Captain Cook. His statue stands looking out to sea, atop the cliff. As a young man, he lodged with, and worked for a merchant named John Walker, in Grape Lane. Walker’s house still stands, and is now a museum, devoted to the achievements of his protégé.

It was probably from the West Cliff that, on 31st October, 1885, Irish novelist Bram Stoker witnessed the cargo ship ‘Dimitry’ out of Narva, run aground on Tate Hill Sands. When, some years later, he wrote Dracula, he had the Count arrive in the ‘Demeter’, from Varna, steered by the dead hand of her Captain.

The East Cliff is ‘Dracula Country’, but it doesn’t belong exclusively to him. On top of the cliff stand the ruins of 7th Century Whitby Abbey, where a simple herd-boy once sang to, and captivated the Abbess Hilda. Hilda went on to become a Saint; the Song of Caedmon is said to be the pioneer of English religious music.

‘Caedmon’s Trod’ is the name given to one of the two sets of steps leading up to the Abbey from the old town. Curiously, though, the commemorative Cross of Caedmon stands at the top of the other steps, called the Abbey Steps, or, more usually, simply the 199 steps. Don’t ask; I didn’t count them!

Both sets are good for pictures looking across the red-tiled roofs of old Whitby. The sun shows the tiles to their best advantage … but, wind and rain ensures that the steps aren’t too crowded! You pays your money … or, you gets up early, or you comes in winter!

The Abbey steps lead, as you might expect, to the Abbey. But, in front of the Abbey stands St. Mary’s Church, and its churchyard. Here, Stoker had Mina and Lucy watching the approach of the ‘Demeter’ … and here, the ill-fated Lucy Westenra met the Count while out sleepwalking … with the inevitable result!

The graveyard on East Cliff ... haunt of Count Dracula!

Everyone who’s ever been to Whitby remembers ‘a great fish and chip shop by the harbour’. Most people I spoke to said the best of all was ‘Trenchers’… which, unfortunately, was destroyed by fire!

But, there are many, many more! A lady in the Tourist Information Centre told me that it isn’t actually illegal to serve bad fish and chips in Whitby, but the competition is so fierce that anyone who does so, or is miserly with the portions, is unlikely to last very long.

From the many, I chose the ‘Endeavour and Resolution’ because of the ‘Captain Cook’ work I’d come to do. I wonder if there’s a fish and chip shop named after the Count, though? There ought to be; it would be the ideal place to pop into for a quick bite!

A 'close encounter' at the Samburu Game Park

From Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, to the Samburu Game Lodge is about 150 miles as the crow flies. But, if you leave Nairobi in the middle of winter, you’ll arrive at Samburu in midsummer. However, that’s not because the roads are so bad, or the little Nissan safari buses which most tour operators use being anything other than quick and efficient.

The reason for the seasonal shift is that on this journey crosses the Equator, at a place called Nanyuki, where the buses always stop. Ostensibly, it’s just to let passengers stretch their legs and attend to essential comforts, but, as often happens where tourists frequent, there’s quite a bazaar atmosphere, where ‘quality African craftwork’ (it says here) can be bought.

Lorraine at the Equator

Usually, too there’s someone there with a container of water, a funnel and a few match-sticks. For a fee, he will demonstrate the phenomenon where, if you pour water into a funnel, or let it out of the bath, or something, it swirls out clockwise to the south of the Equator, and anti-clockwise to the north. Although my ‘day job’ at the time was in aviation, nobody loves a smart-ass, so I resisted the temptation to lecture about Buys Ballot’s Law and the Coriolis Effect!

Having had our pit-stop and coffee, we left Nanyuki behind, and headed down into the Great Rift Valley and Samburu.

The Samburu Reserve takes its name from the Samburu people who live in the area. The Samburu are often to be seen in their traditional garb of wrap-around blankets and metal and bead bracelets and necklaces; sometimes the men wear red clay on their faces and in their hair. Most tours to the area include a visit to a Samburu manyatta (a fenced compound which acts as a sort of outdoor village hall/meeting place/club-house) to see a display of Samburu dance.

Grevy's Zebra

Samburu tribesmen dancing for us

The reserve consists of several adjoining game parks on either side of the Ewaso Nyiro River. One of these is the Buffalo Springs Nature Reserve. There are springs, to be sure, but Jacob, our guide/driver said that buffalo never frequented them. But, what were those bovine-looking animals drinking from the springs?

We had discovered Jacob’s system. ‘Elephants?’ he would say ‘There are no elephants around here.’ This usually made sure that we would see elephants … and soon! ‘We will see no lions today!’ usually meant more lions than you could shake a stick at … not that anyone shook any sticks at them; we stayed safely in the bus, which has a raised roof, to act as sun-shade and observation platform.

The guides aren’t allowed to use radios to talk to each other, and animals are not tagged in any way. But, if one guide sees something interesting, the others will arrive very shortly! One day, Jacob spotted a leopard in a tree, with the body of a recently-killed gazelle. Within 15 minutes, nineteen safari-buses had arrived on the scene!

Elephants at Samburu

We saw elephants, zebras, giraffes, ostriches, lions, cheetahs and many kinds of antelope and gazelle … including the tiny ‘dik-dik’ and the amusing gerenuk or ‘giraffe-gazelle’. And, of course, there were many buffalo! And, as a bonus, we had a rare glimpse of the usually haze-shielded and cloud covered Mount Kenya in the distance.

Seeing animals at their best usually calls for a pre-dawn start, with another drive around sunset. At these times, the animals are at their most active. So, when breakfast beckons, we returned to the Samburu Lodge. The cabins at the lodge are thatched, round huts of a design based on the African hut called a rondavel. Like all good game lodges, there are two watering holes … one within the compound, that is, the swimming pool, and one outside. A bank about three feet high surrounds the compound, this, we were assured, ensures that visitors don’t have too close an encounter with the game … especially the crocodile, which is usually seen basking by the water-hole.

One thing the bank won’t keep out is the baboons. The barman said that it has been known for them to snatch food from the plates of diners in the restaurant. Then, we were summoned to dinner … not by a gong, but a relentless thunder of African drums.

‘Oh, yes! Very Hollywood!

’ I said. But, the barman explained that the drums served an extra purpose. They scared the baboons away, and they wouldn’t be back for several hours!

Samburu Lodge

A Land Train at Ayia Marina

A friend in Greece told me she’d heard of the building of a ‘tramway’ in Iraklion, on the island of Crete. At that time, I thought they would have to knock down a lot of houses in order to build an effective one, for it was some time since I’d last visited the town, and I remembered narrow streets and close-packed houses.

But, the mystery was solved when I revisited recently. These trams, or rather, trains, don’t run on tracks. They’re road trains. They’re not just novelty trains for children that ply along the sea-front. You can take a tour on them, for an afternoon or a whole day.

If you ever take a coach tour, have you noticed there’s always someone who, as soon as the bus has come to a halt, gets up and starts fiddling with his belongings, blocking the aisle so that nobody can get off for five minutes! The extra door in the middle of the coach is useful on such occasions, but, even then, sometimes, you might wish for extra doors, like there used to be on older trains.

The trains not only operate out of Iraklion, but from the several holiday resorts along the northern coast. If you like ‘night life’ and ‘action’, you should stay somewhere at the eastern end of the island. As you move westward, the quieter the resorts become. We were staying at Ayia Marina, near Xania, which lies on the west side of the island.

Lorraine on the Little Red Train

One day, I walked the Samaria Gorge. That’s the longest gorge in Europe; 18 kilometres of rather rocky going. There’s no way out, either, except on your own two feet or, in extreme emergency, on the back of the ranger’s donkey.

My wife took one look at the pictures of the gorge, and decided it was too difficult for her, and chose an easier option. She would take the road train on a tour to another gorge, the Therissos Gorge. Afterwards, she reported that, while the gorge wasn’t quite as spectacular as Samaria, it was still quite an experience … and could be viewed from the comfort of the train, which, unlike Samaria, was able to drive all the way. And, she came back clutching a large bag of oranges she’d bought at a stall along the way for the price of a couple of oranges in the UK.

I didn’t feel much like walking the following day, so we took a train ride instead. We chose the Galatas Country Tour on the ‘Little Red Train’ from Platanias, near our hotel outside Xania. Its owner claimed it was the first ever of the trains, and that his trains, of Italian manufacture, were superior to the French-built ones of his competitors

.They are much more convenient, we were told, because, unlike coaches, the operator doesn’t have to keep a fleet of different-sized buses. He just hitches on an extra ‘carriage’ or trailer, when times are busy, or takes one off when demand is light. And, it’s easy to get on and off; there is a door for each row of seats! The open-sided carriages are a big plus for photographers; they make the train an ideal ‘camera platform’

The train passing through Pantelari

The route took us through the orange groves in the valleys to the south of the main road, which runs along the northern coast of the island. They missed a trick, I thought .. why didn’t he call this tour ‘The Orange Blossom Special’? Of course, we took the tour in Spring, when the blossom was out. It isn’t always. We stopped at Ayia Lake; snow on mountains reflected in a beautiful artificial lake made us think we were anywhere but Greece! And, on the way out, we halted at a roadside stall for fresh orange juice, and to buy more oranges.

Then, the route took us to the Allied War Memorial, on top of a hill. This commemorated the soldiers from Britain, Australia and New Zealand who unsuccessfully defended the island against a German parachute invasion in the Second World War. Being situated on a hill, the views of the groves of olive and orange, and the vineyards are magnificent.

The Allied War Memorial

Galatas

Our last stop was at a village called Galatas, where we parked in front of the church, which those who wished to could visit. Most passengers, however, made their way to a small museum, mainly of artefacts from the War. It’s rather a slight affair, which might not be worth making a special trip to see, but it is important to the villagers

At the end of the tour, we found another advantage to the train having no tracks. It can go almost anywhere, and, if your hotel is nearby, it will pick you up or drop you there, if you ask nicely!

Keith with the train:Ayia Lake

Avebury

Most people have heard of the famous stone circle at Stonehenge, in Wiltshire, England. Fewer have heard of the much bigger circle, or rather, circles, thirty miles north, at Avebury.

Avebury was built about 500 years before Stonehenge was. Work started on it around 2900 BCE, while Stonehenge was not started till about 2400 BCE.

When historian John Aubrey came upon the circle at Avebury in the 17^th Century, he declared it far superior to Stonehenge, and said it was like ‘comparing a cathedral to a parish church’.

While Aubrey did do some valuable work, he had an unfortunate habit of presenting his sometimes unsubstantiated theories as facts; a habit which confused people for generations. Modern scientists, though, make it clear that their theories are just that.

‘I think ‘may’, ‘possibly’ and ‘probably’ are the words we use most often of all’ I was once told.

Shannon at Avebury

There are no triliths … horizontal stones, balanced on two upright ones … at Avebury. These are unique to Stonehenge. Nor are there stones brought from as far away as Wales, as there are at Stonehenge. All the stones are the rough sandstone called sarsen, the nearest deposit of which is about ten miles away, on Lockeridge Down.

To transport the huge stones that distance must have required an organised society, with an influential leadership.

Avebury is much larger than Stonehenge, too. Indeed, there is a thriving village within the outer circle, and the Salisbury to Swindon bus runs right through it.

Like Stonehenge there is an Avenue; that is, two lines of standing stones marking the edges of the approach to the circle. The one at Stonehenge consists of just two shallow furrows, which an untrained person would not recognise unless it was pointed out.

Much of what we see today, we owe to Alexander Keiller. This was a man of many interests, the greatest of which was archaeology. This is the science of finding out how people lived in the past by looking for and examining the remains of their buildings or property. He was able to finance this expensive pursuit with the considerable fortune his family had made from manufacturing marmalade!

When he came upon the circle in the 1920s and 1930s, it was in very poor condition, with some of the stones fallen over, and some carried away for use elsewhere.

In the Middle Ages, many people thought that stone circles and henges, or circular ditches, were the work of the Devil, so, encouraged by the Church, people took some of the stones away, and buried them. Later, in the 18^th Century, William Stukeley recorded local people using fire and water to break up the stones for building and road making. But, he was able to make drawings, engravings and paintings, showing what he thought the circle may have looked like when it was built.

Some of the Great Stones

These were of great help to Keiller, when he located all of the missing stones he could find, transported them back to Avebury, and re-located them in their original positions. And, if a stone could not be found, a concrete obelisk was erected where it should have stood.

One thing that could not be taken away, though, was the massive henge surrounding the complex. It is always a source of wonder that this was dug out using only primitive tools … a modern civil engineer estimated that such an undertaking would take one man three years today, using a mechanical digger.

Nowadays, the ditch is covered in grass, but the original idea was just to have a circle of bare earth … which, in most of Wiltshire, is a brilliant white chalk soil. This must have been a dramatic sight!

So enthusiastic was Keiller that he actually bought the land on which Avebury stood, as well as Avebury Manor, part of which is now the Alexander Keiller Museum, where many artefacts he found on his digs are displayed; arrowheads, coins, pottery and skeletons of animals, and even humans!

Also on display are objects from almost all points on the time-line, for the village was here from the earliest times, and many people would have grazed their sheep and cattle in the fields containing the stones. They would, no doubt, have inadvertently dropped coins, knives and the like.

One skeleton, which Keiller discovered in 1938, was found to be carrying the instruments of a barber-surgeon from the Middle Ages. It is assumed he was killed when a stone fell on him, in an attempt to move it. That stone is now back in position, and known as the Barber Stone. But, although the instruments are on display, the skeleton is not. It was taken to London, and destroyed by a German bomb in 1941!

But, artefacts are not the only things to be seen in the museum. There are interactive displays and models, showing how Avebury might have looked in bygone days, and giving histories of people connected with it.

After the war, Keiller, ill, and with his money running out, sold the property to the National Trust, in whose ownership it remains, although the monument itself is now in the care of English Heritage.

The Avenue, Avebury

If you visit the site, you will be immediately aware of a modern major difference between Avebury and Stonehenge. At Avebury, you can wander around the stones as you will; at Stonehenge, unless you make a special arrangement, you must admire them from a distance. And, at Avebury, admission is free of charge, although you do have to pay to use the car park or enter the museum.

But, it is a price worth paying.

Bus Ride to Avebury

The Pilgrim

He was striding along with the aid of a long pole, and on his hat was a cockle shell, similar to the one used by a well-known oil company. Unbidden, the words sprang into my head:

I was in the town of Carriòn de los Condes, in the province of Palencia, which is a tidy little town huddled mainly on the right bank of the River Carriòn. Most of the houses are of the off-white or white red-tile roofed kind which seem to shout ‘Spain’. Here and there, there’s a more modern, anonymous, glass and concrete office building, block of apartments or showroom, but these seem to blend in almost unnoticed with older buildings.

‘By his cockle-hat and staff ….’

How did the rest of it go? Where had I heard those words? And, why should a statue in a town in northern Spain cause them to be suddenly retrieved from memories of long ago?

Generally, the streets are wide enough to allow two cars to pass without argument, but there is still the occasional set of steps or a narrow alley inviting exploration. And, most of the time, that exploration leads to charming old squares, which are almost a cliché of all that is Spanish.

Many visitors arrive on foot, for it stands on the Camino de Santiago, or ‘Way of St. James’

Santiago is a corruption of San Diego, or St. James. He’s the Patron Saint of Spain, and is reputed to be buried in the town of Santiago de Compostella. In the Middle Ages, this became a place of pilgrimage, and the route most of the pilgrims travelled became known as the Camino de Santiago.

The Saint’s emblem was a cockle shell, which the pilgrims wore on their clothing to show that they were on the pilgrimage … originally, it was carried to scoop water up from a stream. It’s to be seen everywhere along the route; in Carriòn de los Condes alone, there are stone cockle shells on walls, fountains and statues. The sign, in brass, is also embedded in the stones of the pavement to show the way pilgrims should go. Even the fob of the key to my hotel room was in the form of a heavy brass cockle shell; I suppose it’s as good a way as any of ensuring the guests don’t inadvertently walk off with the key.

That hotel lies just outside the town, on the other side of the River Carriòn, crossed by a picturesque bridge of mediaeval origin. The Hotel Real Monasterio San Zoilo, is in a part of a former monastery; the bit not used by the hotel has, so far, been retained in its original condition, and the ornate cloisters and the gloriously exuberant Gothic façade can still be seen.

San Zoilo Monastery ... now, a hotel

In former times, the monks had a duty to care for sick pilgrims, but those who were not sick could also obtain a night’s lodging at the monastery. Even today, people walking or cycling the Camino … or even traversing it by coach … sometimes stay here, although most stay in hostels in the town itself.

Modern pilgrims in Carrion de los Condes

There are still a few pilgrims in modern times, but there are many more long-distance walkers. In the many statues and paintings I saw during my stay, the pilgrims were lightly burdened … most of the modern walkers were carrying packs which would make a Marine’s knees buckle!

But, the words just wouldn’t go away, and, when I finally got to a computer, I keyed them into Google, and almost immediately got the whole poem.

My Google search also uncovered an interesting theory. If a man discovered that his wife was having an affair, her lover was well advised to get out of town fast! And, what better method was there of staying out of the husband’s way until he’d calmed down than going on a pilgrimage?

‘And how shall I your true love know

From many another one?

Oh, by his cockle hat and staff,

And by his sandal shoon’

‘Shoon’ is an obsolete plural for ‘shoe’ … I know this, because there’s a shoe-shop called ‘Shoon’ in the town where I live. And, the poem brought back scattered, almost intangible memories … I was very small, and reading to my grandmother from a very old nursery rhyme book. Why should I suddenly recall this after nearly sixty years? 

Suddenly, the old rhyme made sense!

Snowdon Mountain Railway (1978)

‘This is a land of fairies and giants’ says the commentary on the Snowdon Mountain Railway, and, as the little train clatters up into the mountain mists, you can well believe it. It doesn’t take much imagination to conjure up a vision of either a good witch or a malevolent troll hiding in the murk beyond the tumbling crags.

The carriages on the train are a good age; the diesel locomotives which push them up the mountain are about 25 years old, and most of the steam locomotives, which are still running, and share the duty, are over 100 years old. So, the whole thing looks old-fashioned, quaint and … I won’t say ramshackle … Tolkien-ish! There’s no exact English word for it, but the Germans have an excellent one … Tinkelbahn !!

The slopes to be negotiated are too steep for a conventional railway. This is a rack-and-pinion railway, on which toothed cog-wheels on the engine engage on the ‘rack’, between the lines. It works on almost exactly the same principle as a roller-coaster, except the cog wheels remain engaged on the rack to act as a brake on the way down, as well.

The system used at Snowdon is the Abt Rack, designed by Dr. Roman Abt, in which horizontal cog wheels are used; the other system most used on rack railways is the Riggenbach rack, in which vertical cog wheels engage in a so-called ‘ladder rack’.

The railway was the brain-child of the grandly-named George William Duff-Assheton-Smith who, in the late 19th Century, owned most of the valley and most of the northern slope of Snowdon, at 3,500 feet, the highest mountain in Wales. Although the main business of Llanberis, where the railway starts, was slate quarrying, ‘trippers’ were arriving as well. Many of these visitors wanted to climb to the summit of Snowdon, and many of them did, either on foot or on the back of a mule or a donkey.

The train changed all that. The railway, and the locomotives and carriages were commissioned from the Swiss Locomotive & Manufacturing Co. of Winterhur, Switzerland … the Swiss, having many similar railways, are rather good at this.

Now, anyone, regardless of fitness, could take the train to within 60 feet of the summit, and see for themselves if it was possible, on a clear day, to see all the countries of the United Kingdom.

I can tell you, from previous experience, it is possible. But, not today … the low cloud and rain saw to that. But, shortly after we set off, a spectacular waterfall came fleetingly into view. ‘If you look to the left,’ said the mechanical voice, ‘you can see …’ … a rain-lashed window, swirling mist and craggy rocks, which hid … what, or who? Fairies and giants, maybe?

There’s another mountain, not far from here, where it’s said if you spend the night alone on the summit, you will be either mad or a great poet in the morning. And, in this mist, it’s not hard to believe. At an intermediate station, a shadowy figure emerged from a shed; he could be anything you imagined, if it wasn’t for the reflective jacket he was wearing.

I wasn’t here to admire the view, anyway. I was going to inspect the new Hafod Eryri restaurant, station and Visitor Centre on the summit, which replaced the ugly eyesore which preceded it. Surprising, because the building was originally designed by the noted architect Sir Clough Williams-Ellis. But. His original design didn’t survive the first winter up there, and it had to be modified to something more functional, rather than decorative.

But, with modern technology, the new centre is both aesthetically pleasing and practical, and offers a very easy way up to it … if you book in advance at busy periods.

Find out much more about the Snowdon Mountain Railway and the new Visitor Centre at http://www.snowdonrailway.co.uk

Snowdon Mountain Railway

The Siq, guarding the entrance to Petra

I’m probably unique in that I visited Jordan twice before I saw Petra. My only excuse is that the first two times, I was there on business. But, this time, I was on holiday, and determined to see this ancient city, which features high on everybody’s ‘must see’ list.

The Treasury (Photo by Lorraine D. Kellett)

Petra was built by the Nabataeans, who were a nation of merchants and traders, living in the 6th Century BC, in the southern part of what is now Jordan. They built their houses in a rather unusual way. Where anyone else would make mud bricks to build their houses, or quarry blocks of stone and take them away to build a city, the Nabataeans simply dug out caves in the soft sandstone of a narrow canyon.

People who have never been to Petra often recognise its Treasury, which featured in the movie ‘Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade’. This building is right at the entrance of the city, which we approached down a narrow side canyon, called the siq. ‘It’s best to walk’ said Sami, our guide. ‘You can get a horse, camel or carriage back if you wish!’

That was good advice, for there’s much more to Petra than the Treasury … and it will take a long time to see it all. Almost all the city is still standing after 2600 years, not just one or two buildings. Even a day isn’t long enough … although that’s tiring enough.

On the way down the siq, Sami pointed out the clever system of drainage channels, which provided fresh running water almost everywhere in the city, and protected it from the danger of flash floods.

Living in caves suggests a primitive people, but it wasn’t the case here. Many of the buildings in Petra are as grand as many modern buildings. There’s even a Royal Palace. And, we stopped to admire the Qasr el Bint, or ‘Castle of the Woman’ which was believed to be the only building in Petra not to be hollowed out from the cliff.

Qasr al Bint

Sandstone is a reddish colour, which shines brightly in the sun, causing poet Dean Burgon to describe Petra as a ‘… Rose Red city, half as old as time’ … words often repeated in tourist brochures. But, it’s not all red … there are many different colours, and craftsmen make souvenirs for visitors by pouring differently coloured sands into little glass bottles, so as to form pictures and patterns.

Making coloured sand pictures

The books say that a Swiss explorer, Johann Ludwig Burckhardt, who also found the gigantic rock temple at Abu Simbel, in Egypt, discovered Petra in 1812. However, ‘discovered’ maybe isn’t the right word, for the Bedouin people have always lived there, until fairly recently. Indeed, Dr. Nyazi Shaba’an, who was Director of Antiquities at Petra for many years, and now owns the tour company we were travelling with, was born in one of the caves, and his earliest memories are of riding his donkey through the ancient city to school.

And, Sami himself was born in a Bedouin tent nearby.

The author at Petra (Photo by Lorraine D. Kellett)

Some of the caves still house shops and restaurants, although nobody lives permanently in Petra now. We stopped at one restaurant, opposite the open-air theatre, for a cup of tea, and remarked on how cool the interior of the cave was.

Sami told us that when the people were rehoused elsewhere, one old lady refused to move. She said that she wanted to die in the home she’d always known. When King Hussein heard of this, he sent his brother, Prince Hassan, to visit the old lady, and try to persuade her to move. The lady presented the Prince with a covered dish, in which he found a dagger. She told him that she couldn’t disobey a Prince, so would he please kill her now.

Prince Hassan realised then how much the lady loved her home in the cave, so he told the authorities they must allow her to remain as long as she wished, and she stayed there until she died. So, maybe living in a cave isn’t as bad as it sounds?

'It's not a building; it's a whole city'

Since our visit, our guide, Sami, formed his own company, Jordan Inspiration Tours. You can visit him at www.jitours.com