Hay-on-Wye: Book town of Wales (and my heart)

Walking in on Friday, we decided it was time for another mini-break. That evening we booked The Swan in Hay-on-Wye for following night. While the weather the next morning wasn't as good as the forecast, it steadily improved as we made our way west. Only fog awaited us as we checked in early and set about exploring Hay.

With rain threatening, we kept the walk short, down by the lively Wye river. Benches dedicated to fellow lovers of the British countryside could be seen all along the trail, and we took advantage of one part-way, enjoying the view and those smells you only get near fast-moving water.

The reviews Tea had read said the Swan's food was a bit poncey, and the fab Blue Boar was just across the road to boot, so guess where we ended up for lunch. Their food was excellent -- a beef burger for Tea and cottage pie (think shepherd's pie) for me -- and while their namesake IPA was a bit bland, the Landlord more than made up for it.

Bellies full, it was time to see what Hay is famous for: books, books and more books. I've never seen so many shops in such a small town. And some of them are so specialized -- on botany and ornithology, children's books, nineteenth century British authors... Honestly, that's three different bookshops -- you wonder how they can survive. In a word, or phrase, Hay Festival: tens of thousands of visitors flood the town with one thought on their mind: reading.

I won't bore you with my amazing finds -- including the ones I left on the shelves; it's easy to spend well in excess of a thousand pounds on one book, in case you're wondering why I wouldn't satisfy my every whim -- but the highlight of the day was certainly the illustrated edition of Voltaire's Candide by Peter Pauper Press, hardcover in a slipcase. Beautiful!

We decided to rest up a bit before supper. Back in the hotel room, I took in some of the FA Cup fifth round play, very impressed with how non-league Crawley Town fared against Man U. -- that's right: a team effectively four leagues below the team at the top of the Premier League, and, in the end, they were beaten by but one goal. Incredible.

We'd heard the Old Black Lion was the best restaurant in town, and we were lucky enough to get a table without a reservation... Just. The locals were so friendly, first offering us their seats while we waited for a table, and then one gentleman finished early, taking his digestif to the pub area, so that we might have his table sooner. Such a great atmosphere, before I even touch on the fabulous food: a T-bone steak for Tea, and a starter of duck, followed by braised lamb shank for me; superb! Plus, they had the Wye Valley's own Butty Bach on hand-pump! Love that stuff.

The next morning, after a big, tasty full English at the Swan, it was out for a proper hike, south toward the Hay Bluff. The weather was great again, but it had rained overnight, making it easily our muddiest walk to date. Thank goodness for wellies, is all I have to say; well, thank that and balance I summoned from the depths, hauling one boot out while another sank up to my shin, over and over again for a stretch. And I was grinnin' like an idiot, brought back thirty years in one afternoon.

The pig farm was another highlight: these big sows snuffling over to the fence (thinking we had food, no doubt) and scratching themselves on saplings the size of my forearm. Oh, and I can't forget the wee lambs, still trying to master the trick of standing up for seconds at a time. And if walking through all these farms doesn't give you a flavour for life here, every farmhouse we passed had a stool out front with cartons of their eggs and a tin for the money. Stepping back in time would approximate the feeling for some, I guess, but I've never known life like this. Period. It's heaven to me; plain and simple.

After a light lunch at the Blue Boar -- why mess with a good thing? -- it was time for more shopping. I had visions of popping 'round to many different shops, but that was before we entered the phenomenon of Hay Cinema Bookshop. It's pretty much a TARDIS. An old converted theatre, it just keeps going on and on, gobbling up afternoons like kids' sweets. Again, I won't bore you with all that made up our two shopping bags' full. For me, the highlights were N. C. Wyeth's Pilgrims, and a beautiful edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, illustrated by Peter Weevers (although Tea also got some great photography manuals).

The day quickly getting away from us, we decided to hit the road. We still wanted to stop in Ross-on-Wye on the way back, and by the smaller roads that really shouldn't be travelled after sunset. 'Cause it was on the map, we did take one detour: to Arthur's Stone, dented by the elbow of a giant slain by Arthur, according to legend. The kids who were biking away as we arrived didn't seem so impressed, jumping up 'n' down on the neolithic burial chamber moments before. (I leave the mutters and grumblings of "no respect..." and "tanned hides..." as an exercise for the reader.)

We caught the last of the light as we pulled off at Ross-on-Wye. We'll definitely be back, as some of the walks beside the river looked absolutely idyllic. As it was, we stopped in The Mail Rooms for a few pints -- New Moon is an excellent dark, incidentally -- and tea for Tea. When we learned they'd run out of Sunday roast -- of any sort! -- it was down to the Seven Seas for kebabs; super messy, but delish!

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the weekend.

Malmesbury and Tetbury

With a sunny forecast, we set out for a walk near Tetbury. The plan had been to poke our noses in a few of the antique shops it's famous for -- that, and the nearby estate belonging to HRH Prince Charles. Unfortunately, it seems that most of them are closed on Sundays, so we settled for wandering the grounds of the Church of St. Mary The Virgin, and saw the Market House and the Chipping Steps -- with a property for sale! If you can spare most of your limbs, no doubt -- before making our way back to the car.

Aside: I'd be remiss were I not to raise the subject of the decidedly un-cat-like black cat we met near the top of the famous Gumstool Hill. His cries for attention, while prodigious, didn't particularly distinguish him; rather, it was his ingenuity: when I crouched down to take a shot of a nearby hotel, I felt this sudden weight in my lap, followed by much, much closer meowing. I walked around with little muddy cat paws on my thighs for the rest of the day.

A quick flip through our walking book later, we were off to the neighbouring Malmesbury to walk the public and permissive footpaths that surround and divide it. First up, however, was a carvery, at the Smoking Dog, we decided. (Despite my aversion for those horrid "Dogs playing poker" paintings and whatnot, which Tea helpfully brought to mind, pointing at the pub's sign and smirking.)

As I went up to order our pints, my gaze fell upon the "Continental Guest Beer," Blue Moon. I couldn't help but laugh and comment on the sight from 'home', to which the bartender replied, "Oh, yes. It must be an acquired taste." That's one way of putting it, I thought. A final point on the bar: when I was up for another round, I noticed the gentleman who'd been sitting beside us chatting to the bartender. As I waited, I realized he was making good on a comment he'd made at the table about the ale being too cold, and how the management would probably like to know. The two of them were now lamenting how little you can do about the temperature of your cellar. It really is that important to them, folks, and I'm sure they'd be deeply offended by the "warm, flat beer" comments I've heard from the mouths of Canadian visitors. But, to each his own.

Our bellies full -- Tea ordered a burger, which surprised me, though she enjoyed it; pork loin for me -- we made our way past the old silk mills to the ridiculously muddy path. Tea immediately cursed her lack of foresight, as her wellies languished in the car. On we went in the lovely sunshine, slowly ascending through town to the impressive Malmesbury Abbey. The other pub we'd read about, The Whole Hog, wasn't far from the car park, so we decided that some refreshments might be in order.

The Whole Hog has a fantastic bar area out front, with large, well-maintained windows that look out on a square, and, according to our book, a market cross that's one of the best examples from its era in England. It was a great place to take a load off, particularly with a pint of Three Castle's Corn Dolly in my hand, and listening to guffaws, the likes of which I never would've called anything but campy British were I not there to witness the sincerity of their delivery. Good times!

We'd read about the Priory Inn in Tetbury earlier in the day, and in the spirit of perpetuating those good times, we decided to stop in, for supper, as it turned out.

I can't recommend this place enough. They have this fantastic "Thirty-mile food zone" that they do their best to follow, and promote local musicians -- we enjoyed an excellent performance by Juey that evening -- and artists -- we bought a lovely drawing of cows in Cardigan Bay by Carole Condé that we'd been ogling all evening; it really reminded us of our trip to Wales.

So, yes, good for the conscience, clearly, but very good for the soul too. Their wood oven pizzas are delicious -- we saw more than a few take-away orders that evening -- and the treacle and marmalade tart was out of this world!

As always, check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

A-hikin' again, o'er Crickley

We're back from a great trip home to both Ottawa and Halifax. We got to hang out with Kae, see Mullet Rock play the Rainbow, and celebrate an early Robbie Burns' Day with Joe and Christine (and lots of old friends) -- barely 24 hours before the birth of their first child, James Ian MacDonald, as it turned out! Then it was off to the east coast to share good food and times with our families.

We were up nice 'n' early this morning, hoping to speed along our adjusting to the time zone. The rain had stopped by 9 a.m., so we decided to get out for a bit of exercise. It was also a good excuse for Tea to try out her new camera: a Canon EOS Rebel T1i DSLR.

Grey though the day may've been, many made it out to the Crickley Hill Country Park, where we'd decided to hike. This meant many dogs as well, of course, which Tea loved. And despite the mist and clouds, there were some great views as we made our way to the Air Balloon pub for their carvery. (Bit of a disappointment, that: more in the vein of a Wetherspoons. really, although their seasonal veg was superior; particularly the carrot and parsnip.)

The fantastic views continued after lunch, although I spent more time looking at my feet as the hike went on: all that foot traffic (and the rain, no doubt) made for a very muddy trail. I almost made it back to the car without incident. Near the end, I was taking a picture when I felt both feet slip out from under me; had to sit on a shopping bag for the drive home.

Still, all in all, a great day. We'd both missed our walks through the English countryside.

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

Burford: "I can't believe I found boots!"

Strange title, I know, but bear with me: Tea was so excited about this find... Words fail me, to be honest. But, alas, I'm getting ahead of myself.

The forecast for the weekend was dismal indeed, but, lo and behold, Sunday dawned clear, blue and beautiful -- yes, dear readers, my earlier comment about uncannily accurate forecasts has since been proven wrong; so very wrong -- so we stuck our noses in our many books on English walks and decided on one near Burford and Fulbrook.

The landscape around there is really quite something: you can be walking past hills of golden hay one moment, through rolling green hills speckled with white stones like so much confetti the next, followed by flat fields, the tree line well in the distance. As we struggled to figure out just which tree line was the 'copse' referred to in our book, it all seemed like a mirage around us, never getting any closer. We put it down to the carb-laden Thai feast of the previous evening, courtesy of Tea and Miranda's cooking adventure. (I just got to plow through the spoils. Woo hoo!) Luckily we got a second wind shortly thereafter.

St. Oswald's Church

Then it was through Paynes Farm -- where I got to pet a horse! (I was gonna give him my apple, but it was still early days at that point; what if my second wind started to fail me?) and, later, some of the most beautiful, lush valleys we've seen; we keep thinking we won't be able to top the previous week's walk, but there's always something. Another highlight was St Oswald’s Church in Widford. Unfortunately it was closed -- an extremely odd thing, according to a disgusted local we met; we'll definitely have to go back -- but even its exterior was very impressive.

In the Royal Oak

Back in Burford, we were lucky that the first pub we happened upon -- The Royal Oak -- was the town's only entry in CAMRA's Good Beer Guide (I'd forgot to bring it). And rightly so! Tea enjoyed some fabulous toffee cake and a tea (with lots of extra hot water -- nice touch!) while I had a pint of Wadworth's 6X and one of Henry's Original IPA. The place was dripping with character, including the bartender's collection of cups, mugs and steins hanging from hooks in the rafters; you couldn't see the end of them! But the best part by far were the two dogs hangin' out there; one but a puppy. We got to rub him lots before some folks came and bought peanuts; Tea's seriously thinkin' about carryin' a pocketful of dog treats in the future to compete.

Shopping was on the agenda after those refreshments: Burford has some beautiful shops, including lovely china shops, and, getting to the subject of this post, outdoor-wear shops. It was outside one of the latter that Tea spied some wellies; but not just any wellies: these had plenty of extra room up near the calf, a failing that had prevented her from finding a good fit up 'til that moment. And then there's the hiking boot design... Suffice to say that she was over the moon, and ready to try them out on a second hike right then and there!

Behind St. John the Baptist

As we were heading back to the car, we noticed St. John the Baptist Church and had to take a closer look. Unfortunately, it too was closed -- this time for organ practice -- but, again, its exterior was well worth a look. Then it was for home, and, luckily, we made it just as Miranda was getting back from her day in Avebury. So we fired up the Thai leftovers, and repeated the delicious feast of the previous evening. Good times!

Lost in the Cotswolds

It was a beautiful day today: sunny and 5 °C. We got a bit of a late start, but had a good breakfast, a quick grocery shop, and then we were on the road to our chosen destination for the day: Brimpsfield. The walk we had picked out would take us from there to the village of Caudle Green and back.

We weren't long in Brimpsfield before the charm of village living became apparent: the village hall that promised free parking could've been mistaken for anyone's house, and pigs, chickens and a horse shared a field across the road from it. So peaceful. And, down at the T-junction that was the 'busy' spot in the village, the ubiquitous war memorial with a fresh poppy wreath, surrounded by little wooden crosses.

The map in our guide book was decidedly lacking on landmarks, but well-versed in the language of stiles and berms now, we started out with confidence. It wasn't long, however, before we started scratching our heads and doubling back on some of our choices. Still, we felt we were heading true, keeping the water -- the one landmark of any consequence -- on the appropriate side of us at all times. And the scenery was incredible, as usual; this was one of my favourite walks -- at that point, anyway.

As we approached what we thought was the halfway point, we had some difficulty finding Caudle Green. I'd heard it's nice, but after a bit of looking, we decided to take a shortcut and start heading back. (The walk provided for this option, so there was no case for alarm -- yet.) As we approached a village from below, feeling very smug about how good we felt, this close to the end of the walk, doubt began to creep into Tea's mind. I assured her that we'd recognize something once we'd crested the hill, and make our way to the village hall by road.

Well, striking out a bit ahead of Tea, not only did I fail to recognize anything in the picturesque village that greeted me, I also spied a bus stop. In disbelief, I was still staring at the large block letters of CAUDLE GREEN when Tea joined me. While fairly confidently following the map to what we believed was the walk's conclusion, we'd managed to land at the halfway point! Now, coming to the realization of how badly disoriented we were, combined with the setting sun, gave me more than a moment of concern, to be honest. Still, this post's title is a bit of hyperbole on my part; we knew where we were; it was just a way's from where we wanted to be -- a mile 'n' a half, to be precise.

Still, we struck out on the road for Brimpsfield with all haste -- no more tricky footpaths for me! -- GPS software running on the Blackberry, and got back to the car within a half-hour or so. The moral of the story: we need to get an earlier start, so setbacks can be dealt with in the light of day. Oh well, no harm, no foul, and lots of fun again -- I think it's clear how much we're both enjoying this when we can still laugh about things in the heightened moments, shall we say. And we can sure as heck laugh about them now.

Back to the countryside

Tea and I were happy to bid the snow goodbye for a bit the weekend past -- we had some again today, but it didn't stick around -- and enjoyed a Sunday afternoon walking in the hills surrounding Prestbury. Prior to that, our last walk was a nippy one around Broadway Tower two weeks ago. That one was a bit surreal, starting out on the snowy hilltop -- well before that record-breaking snowfall, mind -- working our way down to the clear village of Broadway, and then back up to the white. Broadway was beautiful -- it's Tea's favourite village to date -- and the carvery we had at the Horse and the Hound was delicious.

Tea laughing at my slip

This Sunday's walk started with a spot of lunch at the Plough Inn, and then, after a few streets, we were through our first stile, enjoying the grass below and the sun above. It wasn't long before I was thinking about my wellies -- sitting in the car, but still too far away at that point: there was a tricky jump from a step, over a stream to the muddy bank opposite. Tea didn't think I'd make it, but I did; didn't even spray my legs with mud. However, in searching for a branch or two for her to step on, I slipped in the mud, throwing out my hands to balance myself. I recovered, only to discover that I'd thrown our guide book in my panic; you could barely see it, it was so deep in the mud! In the end, I managed to clean it up a bit, and Tea got across dry, despite dipping her toes in the stream for a moment. (Gotta love Merrells.)

And that wasn't even the biggest water hazard we had to contend with. A great moment on the walk came as I was partway out in a stream, standing on a narrow board. As I'm trying to maintain my balance I hear this splashing behind me, and turn around to see two dogs jump in and start playing around me. I know attributing human emotions to animals is overdone, but I'd swear these two were gloating about how easily they could cross this obstacle, the water up to their bellies. Their owner was more definitive on the matter, splashing through in her knee-high boots a moment later, saying, "You'll have a hard time without wellies!"

It was good fun, though. As Tea said, I think we'll miss days like this the most when our time here is up.

Walks: Beware of bull

Our car, in NorthleachWell, the big news is that we bought a car! It's an older, lightly-used Yaris with an automatic transmission -- key, since neither of us drive stick. It's small, which is great for parking and the narrow roads, but it's also a four-door, and roomier than you might expect. We're really excited about the weekend travel possibilities now, as you can imagine, particularly with our seat-of-the-pants (u'm, that'd be trousers for you local readers) lifestyle.

It was raining Saturday with no signs of letting up, but we decided to head to Bourton-on-the-Water anyway, eager to take the car out of town. The name suggests quaint to me, and it really was quite cosy and picturesque -- our good, waterproof shoes and raincoats made sure the weather didn't detract from that feeling. The River Windrush dominates the centre of town, and there was already a big Christmas tree on one of its little islands, which Tea particularly enjoyed. I love how all these towns have big war memorials to those they lost in the wars, still covered in poppies at this time of year, of course.

After browsing a local book sale, it was off for a walk on the local paths that surround the town. A couple was just coming off the public footpath as we approached, both of them covered in thick, wet mud to their knees. Tea gasped and exclaimed, by way of introduction, "Please tell me we won't get that mucky!" They laughed and assured us that we wouldn't. (To this day, I have no idea how they got so dirty; and we've been on some muddy paths, trust me!) We had a great time, and made it home before dark (always nice for novice drivers). Check out the latter half of our November album for some pictures from the walk.


"U'm, what's that
sign say?"We slept in a bit late on Sunday, but still managed to make it to Northleach in the morning. (Unfortunately, I forgot to charge the camera, so we didn't get many pictures of this great day; the funniest part is that the clouds rolled in as my camera died, so the beautiful sun I did catch isn't really representative of the day.) We'd barely started the walk from our book when we both did a double-take by the "Beware of bull" sign. Tea, always sharp, was immediately out with, "Thank goodness I'm not wearing red!" You can't make this stuff up! Still, that's where the book directed us, so we pressed on.

Saturday's rain made for an extremely muddy walk; particularly in one bit that was like walking through a field of cabbage -- we were in danger of losing our shoes at times! (Wellies are on our shopping list now, incidentally.) So many wonderful sights, though: we saw this huge field of sheep -- marked with dye in what looked like that means of determining which ewes the ram has been with -- and just one black one; that's right, I met the black sheep of the family, and have no picture to show for it!

There was much high-fiving as the beautiful Northleach Parish Church of St. Peter and St. Paul appeared in the distance: this marked the first time we'd followed a walk from our book without getting lost once. Unfortunately we missed the carvery at the Wheatsheaf Inn, but we still enjoyed a pint in front of fire while playing with the three puppies that were scampering around. We stopped in a local bakery for some pasties before heading home, and any chill we still had didn't last long against the hot drinks we whipped up: rum hot toddy for me, and a Caramel Baileys hot chocolate for Tea.