This is the final chapter of our adventure.

We left the sophistication of Castle Howard for the wilds of the Penine Way off of Snake Pass. Our plan was for a good walk before moving onto Derwent Water, but the weather was against us. It started with few squally showers but then progressed to constant rain with freezing winds and then to top it off, horizontal hail… we cut the walk short and carried onto Derwent Water, where the rain was just as fierce but no hail. We walked up to Howden Dam where the autumn scenery was stunning.

We hadn’t booked a campsite so made our way to Stanage in the Peak District, where a lay-by was our pitch for the night. The weather was still appalling, with heavy rain and howling winds so we hunkered down the night. The night was wild and the van was rocking….

The next morning the rain had eased back to squally showers so we headed up Stanage to walk along the escarpment, where once a paved packhorse road ran, in search of Robin Hood’s cave, which we climbed down to. Gradually the rain cleared and by the time we were back at the van for breakfast, the weather was positively balmy..

After breakfast we made our way slowly through the Peak District as we were meeting Olly, our son, for dinner at the pub at our next campsite.

We meandered through the Peak District, a drive-by of Chatsworth, through Bakewell and Buxton before arriving at our campsite at The Duke of York, Pomeroy. Olly arrived and we had a lovely dinner and a catch up.

Our campsite had lovely views and we had a peaceful night as the sky was clear and full of stars.

Today was our last day and a special one, our whole family would be together after a very long time.

Izzy, our daughter drove up from Manchester and Olly & Abbie came up from Ashbourne with Betsy and Max, our very own bears 😜

It was special, spending time with all our family and it was sad when everyone had to go their separate ways until Christmas 🤞

Tomorrow we head home but we found our bears and had an adventure searching for them ❤️

After a very lazy start due to heavy rain, we made it out of Whitby, without losing any blood, not being a virgin, not having a white, billowy nightgown and being old was probably greater protection than the old crucifix trick..

Our next stop was Castle Howard via a drive over, in, around and up and down the Yorkshire Moors, with not one sighting of Catherine & Heathcliff. Rain followed us intermittently and we wanted to arrive at Castle Howard in time to walk around the gardens and grounds, so we didn’t stop.

We camped at the Castle Howard campsite and then cycled up to the entrance. The Howards’ wanted you be overawed, on your approach,there were more obelisks, pyramids, fancy gates and high walls to ensure you were in no doubt of the money and power that the family held.

Having been very impressed by Cragside and Bamburgh, I soon realised Castle Howard was a whole different ball game.. Cragside, a place that invites long walks wrapped in tweed and stout shoes, very Queen Mother, followed by hot chocolate or a stiff brandy. Bamburgh is more rugged, a place that evokes stormy seas, windy beach walks, huge roaring fires on the beach with bowls of thick beef stew and hunks of bread, but Castle Howard just oozes elegance and glamour, champagne, candlelit dinners, riding side saddle through the grounds for a picnic at one of the many buildings on the estate. Castle Howard screams look at me and my MASSIVE wedge. It must have been built to impress and intimidate, as the Howards were a powerful and influential family, wannabe king makers and breakers.. Castle Howard was used as the location for Brideshead Revisited, but no sign of Aloysius…🧸

The house wasn’t open but the grounds and views were impressive enough. We stopped for hot chocolate and then cake at the tea shop and in the farm shop, we bought our dinner. Two chicken pies, carrots potatoes and corn on the cob plus other goodies. Charlie looked like a pack horse as we stuffed his pockets with our shopping and he cycled back carrying the rest in brown paper bag hoping the handles wouldn’t break. Much to his amusement 😜, I managed to get the 2nd puncture in as many days but luckily made it back to the van!

and I mustn’t forget the family of swans having a late afternoon nap!

Before heading back across the border, we went for a stroll along the Tweed that runs through the Paxton Estate, through the gardens, said goodbye to the Hielan Coos..

We do have a bit of an obsession with cows, Charlie used to help look after the Herefords on the school farm, and no it wasn’t a posh private school, but Huntleys, the local boys’ Secondary in Tunbridge Wells. Although these are sweet, especially the slightly older ‘teenagers’ who gave us the look that all teenagers give anyone over the age of 25..

But I think the Hielan Coos are his favourite and from now they will always be Hielan Coos…

We made our way slowly through the Scottish Borders and through the edge of Kielder until we reached the border. No sign of the ‘Keep Out of Scotland’ banners aimed at the Covid-ridden English, but I suspect Wee Jimmy Krankie might have bitten the hand that feeds her, with telling the Weegies the pubs are now closed.

Our stop for night was a campsite, just above the harbour at Whitby. Whitby, notable for the Abbey, Captain Cook, the setting for Bram Stoket’s novel Dracula, the cobbled streets and 199 steps up to St Mary’s Church.

We climbed up the 199 steps, well I did all 199, but Longshanks only did about 66! Then we came down and went for a fish & chip supper at Trenchers, separately recommended by Claire de G and Colin Paul. We shared a seafood starter and then fish & chips – highly recommended and with very full tummies staggered back up the hill to the van for another early night. The bed is the comfiest place in the van and unless we are eating out in the evening, we are often in bed by 8. Although in Whitby, I think half 7 was a record even for us…. we wanted to be safely tucked up before the Prince of Darkness made an appearance..🧛🏻‍♂️

Having checked the tides, today we headed to Lindisfarne, a centre of Christianity since 635 AD. Blessed with another beautiful day, we explored the area around the village, the monastery ruins, the castle, the lime kilns, other ancient ruins, the harbour and the beach.

We were lucky to see 3 seals just offshore, two were indulging in a bit of hanky-panky according to a local.

Seal Fact: Grey seals are pregnant for 11.5 months, in the Farne Islands pups are usually born from November into December. Down in the Scillies and Cornwall pupping begins in August and September, the timing gets progressively later as you move clockwise around the U.K.

On the beach, there were numerous stone cairns, so I set the master of balance the task of building a cairn…

We boosted the Lindisfarne economy by buying 2 dressed crabs, bread, local honey, scones and a cake, which would be breakfast, lunch and dinner.

We left Lindisfarne and headed for Berwick upon Tweed, where we walked the ancient City walls and spotted our first Bear, hopeful that it signified a pub, we were disappointed to find it was closed.

Moving swiftly on from Berwick, we headed across the border to a Campsite at Paxton House in the Scottish Borders. The site was small, set in an old walled garden, but the main attraction was the Hielan Coos. Luckily we had an apple and with Charlie’s cow whispering skills we enticed a small herd of youngsters to come and say hello.

This youngster with an impressive set of horns was whole lot friendlier than the bull I encountered in India, just before embarking on my charity cycle through Rajasthan. The Indian one attempted to gore me, ripped a hole in my blouse, luckily he only bruised and grazed my side otherwise it would have been time in an Indian hospital!

We were camping just a few miles outside Bamburgh, so under a gloriously sunny sky, we cycled to the castle. Bamburgh is owned by the same family as Cragside and they were a forward thinking, enterprising family always at the leading edge of technological, scientific and social invention. Apart from hydroelectricity, the Armstrongs’ were involved in airships, aviation, armaments, shipping and renewable energy and were generous philanthropic benefactors.

The small castle museum highlighting the aviation, shipping and engineering feats of Armstrong Whitworth and its subsequent incarnations as Armstrong Whitworth Whitley and Vickers-Armstrong was the most interesting indoor exhibit. The castle rooms were ok but far too much porcelain for our liking, how many dinner services does a castle need! Seeing all those plates gave me a sense of deja-vu, when my parents moved house after 30+ years in same house, every box marked ‘kitchen’ that me and my sisters unpacked contained plates, I swear we counted over 70 plates! We couldn’t find a mug to make tea in as every bloody box contained plates, dinner plates, tea plates, side plates, picnic plates, you name the occasion there was a plate for it. To cap it off my parents had stayed with us for a couple of weeks before they could move into their new home and Mum had bought some new plates for the new house!

Bamburgh’ s magnificence isn’t to be found in their plates, but in the setting and we couldn’t have had a better day to climb down the dunes, onto the vast beach and walk. The sun shone, there were amazing cloud formations, it was warm and still. Enjoy…

From Bamburgh, we cycled along the coast to Seahouses and onto Beadnell, where Charlie had a fab bacon,Brie and cranberry panini and I had the most disappointing crab sandwich ever…. which was a shame as they were landing the crab just down the road at Seahouses.

We cycled back to our campsite via a scenic inland route and later that evening, we walked through the dark lanes to a lovely little restaurant (highly recommended) called The Potted Lobster. As everything closes at 10, we walked back slowly taking advantage of the dark skies to star spot.

So once the sheep had also abandoned our overnight camping spot, it was just us, snug inside Gillian and my God did it rain. The noise was deafening, like sleeping under a waterfall in a tin shed. I didn’t get much sleep until the early hours as the rain eased.

Daybreak revealed a whole new world, blue sky, white clouds and the final hints of purple heather on the hills. We were parked below Simonside, a distinctive ridge, with a craggy profile, that stands guard above Rothbury. A walk up to the top was the order of the day as it gives you a 360 degree view encompassing the Cheviot Hills and North Sea coastline.

We walked for 2 1/2 hours, up and along the ridge. Grouse, all relatives of the Famous one,fluttered up from the heather as we walked and we spotted a bird of prey but it was too quick and far away to identify.

The walk along the Simonside ridge was identified by a path laid with stone. We felt like Roman Centurions, walking and climbing up this path, that followed up to the ridge, then down through the peat bogs and back up to the ridge.

Each peak had its stone cairn to which we added a stone. The views were spectacular and only pictures can do them justice.

We had foregone breakfast as we had booked into a local pub for lunch, so after our appetite inducing walk, we returned to our camping spot. When we left for our walk, there was one other car, by the time we got back, the car park was packed. The sunshine had brought everyone out. So we headed down into the valley, driving through floodwater and came upon flooded fields and a raging river.

After a splendid Sunday lunch, we left the Rothbury area and made our way to Bamburgh. Most campsites have a last check-in of 5 pm so we have to be on the road quite smartly in the afternoons.

Looking forward to visiting Bamburgh Castle, known as Bebbanburgh in The Last Kingdom series, which brings me back to whether we have Viking ancestry. Currently Oliver, our son, is sporting a Viking beard so should I rename him ‘Olaf Redbeard’?

Left York and headed up to Northumberland, first stop the National Trust property of Cragside.

Long drives are an excuse for my mind to wander (no laughing at the back), whilst Charlie loves the sat nav, always ‘using 2 fingers to explore’ the more scenic routes, the rivers, the hills, the valleys, the lines, whilst my mind goes off at weird tangents.

The weather can only be described as ‘grey to the ground’ with rain a constant, so the landscape was hardly visible beyond the roadside hedges, allowing my mind to wander freely until we saw the Angel – we are really North now! Have to say though, thought it would be more impressive, but Charlie said the trees had grown since the last time he drove past and it has diminished the impact.

So as we drove, bear with, some of my rounandabouts…

Our camper van has her name tattooed on her front wing, her name is Gillian, but is she a Taylforth or an Anderson? I like to think Anderson – X Files, The Fall and Mrs T in The Crown, much classier than EastEnders and Hollyoaks.

As we approached Thirsk, there were gypsy ponies tethered to the verges and roundabouts, taking me down another memory lane. Some you may remember that Rusthall Common regularly had tethered ponies grazing. Henry, my step-Grandfather tethered some of his ponies on Rusthall Common. When staying with our Nan we used to go up and help move the tether to new grazing and fill the water buckets and in the summer holidays I used to go to the horse fairs & sales with Henry. Often I would be thrown up on a pony, and Henry would extol the virtues of the pony as child’s riding pony, whilst I was expected to ride the pony as fast as possible in a ring formed by the crowds. Henry thought a small ginger kid in her riding kit would get him a better price rather than let one of the gypsy boys show off the pony, and I think it worked, as the ‘sales on the side’, conducted in secret away from the auctioneer, always held the promise that the sale price would include a £1 for the kid. Easy money!

My birthday is 27th December, that no-man’s land between Boxing Day and New Year. By 27th December, everyone was tired, big family day on Christmas Day and Boxing Day before horses was other family visits but once horses were involved, Boxing Day meant hunting, early mornings, long days, sometimes cold, sometimes wet and often both. So 27th was a crash day, my birthday. Every year I used to receive a new hardback book, it could be poetry, ‘Come Hither – Walter de la Mare’, Dickens – Great Expectations, a Paddington box set and my favourite, a new James Herriot. In my childhood Michael Bond and James Herriot were the 2 authors that could make me cry with laughter, make my stomach hurt so I couldn’t breathe and would have to put the book down to regain composure before continuing to read. So I was excited to be driving through Thirsk, home to my childhood hero, James Herriot.

So as we turned the corner and saw the ‘The World of James Herriot Museum’, Charlie said “we have time to stop”, but I said no, the garish red & white flags waving outside the original Skeldale Surgery put me off, I didn’t want the museum to destroy my world of James and the Farnons. Although my Scales family has immortalised ‘Trickie Woo’ although I don’t think Mrs Pomphrey would approve of our immortalisation. If something or someone is a bit ‘Trickie Woo’, then they are not quite kosher, on the level or are up to no good or got a bit of a swerve going on. Not quite Mrs Pomphrey..

So thankfully for all, (no more musings) we arrived at Cragside. Go if you are ever up this way, although due to Covid, not all the rooms were open but it is the magnificent grounds that make the visit. It had not stopped raining since we left York, so we kitted up in full waterproofs, and explored the house. For a large house it is very cosy with its own Turkish baths, to soak and steam away those aches after a day’s hiking, stalking, fishing or shooting. The house is a marvel of Victorian modern engineering with Cragside being the first building in the world to be lit by hydroelectricity and then we headed out into huge grounds, all set on steep hillsides. We walked, and we walked and then walked some more..

We explored the formal gardens, the Pinetum, the Archimedes Screw, the Pump Room, the Rock Garden, the Iron Bridge and the Power House. Cragside has over 30 miles of footpaths and has red squirrels, but we only covered 8 miles of paths and not a squirrel was spotted. However we did get wet, our waterproofs threw in the towel against the Northumbrian rain but still we walked. Cragside is built on and features sandstone rocks and escarpments, just like our sandstone outcrops around Tunbridge Wells, and their rock garden, one of the largest in Europe uses the sandstone to dramatic effect.

We arrived back at the van, absolutely waterlogged and drove to our camping pitch, which was a car park a couple of miles from Simonside, high up on the moors. Our only companions were sheep, until the rain got too much for them and they buggered off. The rain pounded the roof, swept down the moors into the car park, flood warning were issued for Rothbury and Morpeth, just down the valley from us.

But we survived the night, snug as bugs in a slightly damp, sock perfumed rug! Sunday came with scudding clouds and sunshine…

“We still see heights above us and the immensity that lies beyond”

We arrived at our campsite just outside York late in the afternoon. The only restaurant in walking distance was a Toby Carvery and although York was only a 30 min cycle away, a good part of it was along a busy A road before you hit the segregated cycle path so with the variable weather decided to go for a midweek roast.

The roof resounded with rain most of the night but the weather cleared by morning and all forecasts promised a dry day. As one of us went large at the Toby Carvery, (yes, you Charlie) we skipped breakfast and cycled into York.

Cycled past York Minster and headed to the National Railway Museum. Mostly a celebration of steam, I found the carriages equally as fascinating as the engines. from the opulent, velvet plush interiors of Queen Victoria’s state carriage to the very plain and practical interior of King George VI and our Queen’s carriages. Also a 3rd class carriage for London to Edinburgh service in the 1950’s looked positively posh, with tea served on delicate china.

Seeing The Mallard brought back memories of a primary school visit to the London Transport Museum where The Mallard was a star attraction and the memory of that beautiful engine has remained strong. I loved there was an engine called Hippopotamus and my namesake ‘Coppernob’, a name I used to be called as a child.

With tummies rumbling, as deep-fried scone did not appeal, we headed to lunch, at a lovely restaurant called ‘Ate O’clock’ where a full 3 courses were devoured and then we headed to the Jorvik Centre for a date with Vikings, but a I was a tad upset that none of them looked like Ragnar Lothbrok. However I did learn that there is a possibility that my family has Viking genes. Apparently Dupuytren’s contracture (where fingers become permanently bent) is also known as Viking disease as it most common among those of Nordic descent. Some members of my family have this.

Then a wander around The Shambles, apparently the inspiration for Diagon Alley (Harry Potter) before the cycle home. We had just put the bikes away when the rain started (I am writing this 24 hours later and it hasn’t stopped).

So no bears but a mallard and a hippo, the hunt continues in Northumberland via ‘Whip Ma Whop Ma Gate’…

So, forsaking a pretty muslin for me, and a white shirt and breeches for him, we donned sturdy outdoor gear as the weather looked positively gloomy, and that’s the only positive re the weather, it was positively gloomy!

Burghley House was magnificently stately, we took turns around the rooms (keeping with Austen theme here) and marvelled at what I would call a lovely ‘Muriel or two’ 😜

We perambulated around the State rooms, wondering why such small people built such big houses with tiny beds and tiny baths and then were told that the Gardens shut between 1 and 2, weird, did the borders need a nap or perhaps a sandwich?

So we ramped up the perambulating and sped to the gardens, which from a wannabe gardener’s point of view were disappointing.. not much inspiration to take home unless you had a garden that could take inspiration from Capability Brown. If you have parkland, a ha-ha, great avenues of trees, stone bridges and lakes from which Mr Darcy can emerge, then Capability is your man, but I’ll stick with Monty and Adam.

The Garden of Surprises, which is filled with novelty water features may be surprisingly pleasant on a warm summer’s day but as the rain started to fall, the sudden appearance of yet more water, was rather unsurprising. The Sculpture Garden was more interesting, both from a garden point of view and a sculptural one. The best surprise was when a hare just hopped past us, I never realised they were so big… Two hares in two days, even I don’t find that many on my chin in a day|

Here’s a selection of sculptures from the garden …

After the Sculpture Garden, we set off for a bracing walk around Burghley’s extensive parkland but torrential rain stopped play, it wasn’t so much the walking in the rain but having somewhere to dry everything without getting everything else wet. So we packed up and headed for our next stop. York

“Is there anybody there?” said the Traveller, 
Knocking on the moonlit door.” 
― Walter de la Mare

We have set off on a adventure, it’s not a big adventure but it’s 2020 and adventures are hard to come by.

We’ve hired a camper van and we are heading North East to explore… perhaps the North East wasn’t the best choice in October 2020 as Covid seems to have put vast swathes of the country into local lockdown, but hey it’s an adventure..

The other reason, perhaps more serious for writing about our journey, is that after 30 years’of marriage, being together 24/7, much of it spent in a confined space, in a pandemic, in the glorious weather that October will no doubt bless us with, is that if only one of us returns, you will know where to start looking for the other’s body.

But I shouldn’t worry every campsite, pub, cafe, public attraction has got us tracked so, it’ll be up to Matt Hancock to trace us.

We had a plan;

Pick up van✔️Pack up van ✔️

Pit stop at Stamford, beautiful town, worth a pub stop ✖️

Car park says NO! Every car park either had a height restriction or tiny Fiat 500 sized spaces, I said the van was small but it’s not Hobbit sized!

So we drove round Stamford at least 4 times gazing longingly into pubs and cafes. Stamford looks like it is waiting for Mr Darcy, the Dashwoods, Frank Churchill or the Bennets to make an appearance and as Jane herself said

‘They reached town by three o’clock, glad to be released, after such a journey, from the confinement of a carriage, and ready to enjoy all the luxury of a good fire.‘

but for us it was not to be..

So we pitched up at our first campsite, based at an old watercress farm and as the light faded, we walked cross country to a lovely pub and on the way, we saw a hare, the first one we have ever seen in the wild.

Tomorrow brings us closer to another Jane Austen experience…Burghley House, just a shame I didn’t pack my best muslin dress, prettiest bonnet and my ‘up and at ’em’ bra…