The Jane Hotel

If you ever find yourself in New York City and want to try something a little different from high rise chain hotels in mid-town, a boutique hotel on the Upper West side or any of the tony Central Park bastions of luxury and wallet draining venues, make a reservation at The Jane Hotel in the West Village below the 14th St and 8th Ave subway and adjacent to the West Side Highway. It's quirky, fun, exotic and special all for $99 a night plus tax.

Here are the negatives:

The $99 rooms do not have bathrooms; you have to walk down the hall to share a uni-sex open sink but closed shower and closed WC facility.

But

I only encountered two other people in the shared bathroom during my stay. And the showers were large with rain-shower style sprays and high quality soaps, shampoos, and conditioners. Everything was sparkling clean from the white porcelain sinks to the old style black and white tiled floor.

The air conditioner is noisy and the window is tiny.

But

You can control the air conditioner via remote control while in bed. And who needs a window when all you are going to do is get a good night's sleep, not camp out there when you can be having NYC fun.

The rooms are tiny. If I stretched out my arms side to side, I could touch both walls.

But

There is everything you could want in this small space: a very comfortable bed and I must say I'm picky about my mattress; a cubby for your suitcase and drawers for your drawers; a flat screen television with remote; a huge white fluffy towel and wash cloth; a white waffle-weave robe with matching scuff slippers and a bolstered wall for sitting up in bed to read.

You see The Jane has a long, colorful history. According to the booklet in the room, it once served as a hotel for the survivors of The Titanic, a hospital for Ellis Island and the military, a YWCA. Now it's a cheap sleep with 24-hour room service and free internet. Off to the left of the lobby is a chic cafe that serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner anytime you want it. The selections are fresh, hip, and tasty. To the right is a dark paneled bar reminiscent of the speak easy of The Godfather films. Beyond the bar is the "ballroom," a lushly appointed lounge filled with velvet overstuffed couches, tapestry area rugs, fringe, chaises, and exotic lamps.

When I entered the room, the first thing I imagined was renting it as a party venue where everyone could dress as gangsters and molls.  I would hire actors to play parts in a mystery theater game.

The Jane is the perfect place to spark one's imagination.

The desk personnel, elevator operator (yes!), and concierge are all dressed in maroon bell boy outfits trimmed in navy and gold braid. They all sport round pillbox hats to complete the look. The magnetized metal key on a giant keyring and a long bar you must insert into an outlet to start your electricity are impossible to lose in your purse. It weighs about about as much as a 12 oz. bottle of soda.

The Jane isn't plain but plain fun. And if your room causes you to become claustrophobic, hop on one of the bicycles parked out front, take to the adjacent bike trail and ride Sally ride while you suck in car exhaust from the vehicles on the West Side highway just beyond.

Sorry I don't have any photos. I thought I had one more night there but had slipped up on my booking. Alas I was again tossed from my room only to land in Brooklyn where I am couch surfing at Ruth and Kyle's apartment.

Anyway here are informative web sites.

http://nymag.com/listings/bar/jane-ballroom/

http://www.thejanenyc.com

I Got Friends in Low Places

Post hike, I met Bryan in Amsterdam where we visited art museums, took a canal ride, sought out little restaurants and spent a lovely evening in a "coffee shop" (those in the know will understand the last reference) hanging out with some rather interesting locals who referred to us when we left as "those other people."

Without plans but itchy to move on, we boarded a Thalys train for Brugge, Belgium, and a step back in time. One cannot adequately describe Brugge except to say it's a well-preserved jewel of a town from the fourteenth century (founded by the Vikings in the ninth century) with city walls and gates, cobblestone streets, elaborate architecture and a beautiful square. It has Epcot Center perfection--except it is authentic!

On our walk to Hotel Windsor (hands down my favorite of any we have stayed in this month), we learned of that night's open air performance of Carmen and couldn't resist. The photos are poor but the music, weather, and setting were magical.

Brugge (not New Orleans despite its mayor's famous claim) is the real "chocolate city." Although I am not particularly fond of the confection, I sacrificed in the name of science and sampled from three shoppes--declaring the winner to be Dumon Chocolatier.

We then hopped aboard the Thalys train to Paris where we stayed at the quirky and delightful Hotel Langlois for two nights. We had to move to Holiday Inn Express on the Left Bank for the third night. What we lost in atmosphere was made up by a high tech bathroom and decidedly less lumpy mattress.
We had dinner with a Newburgh couple who lives in Paris part of the year, spent an entire day at the Louvre and visited the Rodin Museum. We wanted to stay another night but Paris was literally sold out! We tried for two hours to find accommodations without success.

So it was off to Brussels and the Sofitel near the headquarters of the EU. Although the sites in Brussels were not of much interest to us, we enjoyed the best food of the trip.

After another two nights in Amsterdam, I left for New York and Bryan stayed on to work. Thanks, Bryan, for keeping those paychecks coming in.

How many more marshmallows can a girl take in one lifetime?

Amsterdam Canal on the way to the train station. Okay, so it was a bad hair day.  So sue me.

Carmen was a delight, especially when the 27-year-old next to us looked so miserable sitting through an entire opera. His friend was enthralled, but he eventually slumped over holding his head up and I think went to sleep. Hilarious!

Houseboat docking spots are grandfathered in and inherited. It's a status symbol to have one in Amsterdam.  It's amazing how much these houses resemble the little Delft alcohol bottles you get when you fly KLM business class.

Bryan was such a man. He spent the entire day in the Louvre and didn't complain once.  I think he has a thing for the Mona Lisa (or The DaVinci Code).

 

Brugge men in tights played trumpets for some chic party that was about to begin. Their tunics are just long enough when trumpets are lifted. Whew!

Contemplating the Code of Hammurabi or trying to figure out what this reminds me of? Insert your own joke here.

Comtemplating whether or not to order another Delirium Tremeris beer in Brussels? What do you think he should do?

Next adventure: The Jane Hotel in New York City.

End of the Line

Whenever I hear the words "mission accomplished," I will forever think of our ceremonial throwing of the rocks that we carried in our daypacks from St. Bee's on the Irish Sea into the North Sea at Robin Hood's Bay. We also dipped our boots into the waves and celebrated the end of our Coast to Coast Walk.
We walked about 6 miles along the coast from Whitby to Robin Hood's Bay with the sea breeze blowing in our faces, the sea gulls soaring overhead, and the sun again warming our path.

After lunch, we took the bus back to Whitby and toured the ruins of the abbey there. That night we had our farewell dinner where we said our good-byes and exchanged email addresses.

What will I take away from this experience? That the best way to get to know a country and a people is on foot. That I can indeed walk 17 miles on vertical rocky surfaces while being battered by a cold wind. That heather has an exquisite scent. That some people are really into identifying critter feces. That internet access is ubiquitous. That 70+ year olds can kick 50+ year-old butt when it comes to hiking. That the sport of grouse hunting is the strangest thing I've ever witnessed.

That you never stay at a B & B owned by a skinny proprietor. That one of the smartest and funniest innkeepers on the planet lives in a wide spot in the road of the Yorkshire Dales. That the moors are not as romantic and desolate as Bronte makes them out to be when the weather is warm and sunny with not a fog or mist in sight. That the British are intensely proud of their history. That lead mining bores me.  That neither Richard III or Henry VIII were 100 percent all bad. That there are enough varieties of sheep that you can buy a book on the subject. That if you hold out a handful of British coins the people at cash registers will take pity on you and use up the greatest number of coins to total the amount owed them. That every hotel, inn, and B & B in England seem to have at least six artisanal beers on tap.

That I am already planning my next hike with the Sierra Club. Cheers!

Whitby Bay on the North Sea

Today was our easiest walk. After a short climb, the trail leveled out and we walked our 7 miles on a defunct railroad bed flat and paved with cinders.

The day was not without its adventures. A portion of our walk was a "silent walk" where we were encouraged to think about where we were, where we were going, and, I guess, life in general. Steve said he thought a lot about "taciturnity." Thus, goes the humor in our group.

After a brief stop for a snack, we encountered a grouse hunt. Our trip leader who has done the walk six times said it was the first time he'd witnessed this. But given the beautiful weather, the Saturday, etc. it was perfect for the hunters. Not so for some grouse who frightened us as they burst from the heather alongside our path.

The perfect photo: hiker, heather, and mist. 

Dorothy and Nancy consult the best way to treat a blister (the nemesis of every hiker).

Enjoy the photos.

Hiking Through Heather

Just after lunch we posed for pictures in front of the heather.  The camera is tilted, not the landscape. 

The heather on the moors smells wonderful. Stone paths were placed by locals about 10 years ago to prevent walkers from destroying the fragile landscape. Heather is not a natural growth but is nurtured by agriculture and snow-clearing sheep. It's usefulness is that it provides a habitat for nesting grouse that in turn provide lucrative income from foreign huntsmen. Some pay as much as $2000 a day to hunt grouse in the area. Has anyone seen Dick Cheney lately?

Margo plays the role of the farmer's wife in a bawdy audience participation song. 

Before I begin reviewing the day, let me tell you about last night--a highlight of our trip. In an early post, I talked about John Deighton. Last night he and three of his fellow musicians entertained us in the upstairs dining room of the Black Lion Inn. They have been entertaining local Richmond residents for 35 years at festivals and holidays and are so good they no longer have to practice. Besides giving us a concert of old English and Gaelic songs, they led us in a sing-along and regaled us with fantastical stories and humorous poetry.

We learned this morning that John is also a master horticulturalist but did not have time to visit his garden. He is a truly gifted and delightful man and enhanced our Richmond visit immeasurably.

This morning we were transported to the trail head to begin our hike over the moors. I spent the bulk of the walk alone so I could take in the vistas and smell the heather. We were supposed to have been accompanied by a local farmer who knows the area well, but he is working overtime this week bringing in the silage from two farms. We just happen to be walking a two week period of very unusual dry, sunny weather. So the positive is we are enjoying the weather, but the negative is we lost out on the local color. I really wanted mist and fog as we trekked the moors. Ah, perhaps another time.

John (with the white beard) and friends entertained us with traditional singing and  storytelling.

Ye Olde Lead Mining

Katherine, former mayor of Richmond and key citizen and former school teacher, gave us a wonderful lecture on the important time periods of this historic town. She was informative, interesting, and funny. I would have loved to have had the opportunity to spend more time with her. What a lady!

Yes, these stiles were very narrow. It was nearly impossible to squeeze through some of them.

Today John and Moira Deighton joined us on our 6.5 mile walk. John is a retired mechanical engineer who worked for Cummins and is very familiar with Columbus, Indiana, and Brown Country where he and Moira have trekked over the hills and vales of the most lovely part of our state. Bill also happens to be an expert on the now defunct lead mining industry in North Yorkshire.

Lead was first mined by the Romans. In the nineteenth century the industry was a booming business and the area provided lead shot so Americans could kill one another during the Civil War.

I don't remember much about the walk yesterday since I was bored most of the time except that Nancy from Southern California and I have developed a prototype for a new invention: Winter in a Box. She is a computer science geek and programming expert and I'm a creative nut so we've decided we'd make a good team in developing an app where you could choose the perfect winter setting to provide the proper book reading atmosphere. Anyway, I don't know much about lead mining, but I do know that Nancy and I need investors. Anyone interested?

After our trek over we were picked up by Pack Horse (a bus transport) and taken to Richmond. Richmond has over 50 namesakes in England and in American, but this one is the original. The castle was built by a relative of William the Conqueror five years after the Norman invasion.  This is also the castle of Henry VII who defeated Richard III, thus ending the line of Plantagenets and starting the Tudor Dynasty. Katherine, a former mayor and long time city council member, led us on a tour of the town, pointing out the important historical and architectural sites. We then were treated to a view of Council Chambers and the Mayor's Reception Area where we saw a framed letter from President Theodore Roosevelt. Although the town has only 8000 residents, it is a cultural and educational magnet. I could stay here for a year and be perfectly happy. Katherine's son works for the BBC in America and lives in Brooklyn. She is an amazing lady in her early 80s.

John is explaining the process of lead mining and lime burning. He also taught us about Crack Pot Hall, the ruins of a hunting lodge favored by Henry VIII. I think if he wore a robe and pointed hat, he could be Gandolf.

We spent the afternoon walking around various sites. Tomorrow we will be transported over the "boring parts" of the C to C, so we can spend most of the day hiking the Moors. "Moor" later.

We spent a couple of hours in Muker. There was a county fair going on, but these folks were hanging out at the local pub. Can you see the men in white shirts and ties? Wonder if they got any work done that afternoon.

Kirkby Stephen to Keld

Enjoying English tea and freshly made scones at Raven Seat Farm was a delight of the entire week. I remember reading James Herriott's books and couldn't believe I was in the place he described so well. 

As dawn with her rosy fingers rose in the sky, we stayed snug in beds at our three separate B&B's. There is no air conditioning so we are thankful for the cold night temperatures and down comforters. What we have to fight through is the noise from cars driving very fast through town all night not to mention the singing revelers that congregate outside when the pubs close. I've been sleeping with my Ipod to block the noise.  After our typical breakfast of cereal, fresh fruit, yogurt, scrambled eggs and bacon (which looks like ham), we gathered at the Tourist Information Center and set off at 9 a.m.

Crossing Frank's Bridge, we took our last glances of Kirby Stephen and headed up a vertical asphalt path which lasted for the first two or three miles. We were then on much more familiar footing--soft fields, trenches, bogs, and stones. The weather gods once again looked upon us with favor and we had cool temperatures and brilliant sunshine all day.

We made it to the crest of a peak where Nine Standards Riggs were built about 200 years ago. There are a few theories about why the nine huge cairns were built: some say it was a threatening form of intimidation to neighbors, other say the craftsmen guilds had a contest to see who could build the highest tower and others say they were built to draw tourism to the area. (Of course, a few have floated the idea they were built by aliens.) See photos.

Descending we found ourselves in an entirely unique ecosystem. Treacherous bogs threatened to eat our boots and walking sticks. Our leaders had given us ample warning about watching every step because it was possible to sink up to your waist and lose your boots in the muck. Of course, I take these things very seriously so ended up one of the last in line as we picked our way across the fields. One sure test of the danger was the fact there were no sheep in this area.

We all made it through unscathed except our tour leader Aurora, who stepped in a hole and injured her ankle. She braved her way another mile or so until we stopped for lunch when she had her foot taped and took ibuprophen to ward off swelling.

We were all a bit down in the mouth until we arrived at Raven Seat, a farm where the wife and mother of five children, serves fresh scones and cream tea to Coast to Coast travelers. If you have ever read James Harriott's books about his life as a veterinarian in the Yorkshire Dales, then you will appreciate that the setting for our al fresco tea time was straight out of his accounts of the stone farm houses and barns and out of the way locations. The tea and scones were the best by far any of us had ever tasted so our spirits were revived. Also Aurora accepted a ride to our next lodging by one of the workmen which was a great relief to all of us since she was obviously in pain.

Hurston, our trek guide, mislaid his GPS with our pre-programed directions while consulting a map and had to leave our leader- in- training in charge while he went back a couple of miles to retrieve it.

Thankfully we all arrived safe and sound in Keld (a bulge in the road with four buildings). The inn keeper/bartender/owner is delightful with a wicked sense of humor. He immediately made us feel at home. One couple stayed at a sister B & B across the street which is oddly named Butt House.

Another amazing sight (unfortunately I had left my camera in my room) was a rainbow in the clouds that appeared over our lodge. Hurston said he'd never seen one outside of New Zealand. It was a first for me and nearly brought tears to my eyes. I'll post a picture later if someone will share and let me download one of theirs.

Celebrating reaching the midway point. Behind me are two of the nine cairns known as Nine Standards Riggs.

Today was a major milestone. We passed the half way point of our journey at Nine Standards Riggs, left the Lake District and Cumbria and arrived in Yorkshire. We will learn tomorrow how the British have been able to establish the Yorkshire Dales National Forest around privately owned farm land preserving the history and architecture that are unique to this part of the country.

Walking through treacherous blogs for miles slowed us down today.

The Agony and The Ecstasy

After a day of rest in Glenridding, thirteen out of our group of fifteen (including our two leaders) tackled the Roman Road on the fell crest above Glenridding and Ullswater Lake. The weather forecast posted at our hotel warned us of cold weather and high winds but predicted sun for the afternoon. All of us came prepared for the worst and it's a good thing because the worst is what we received.
A taxi drove us to the trailhead where we began our ascent over steep rocks and sheep pasture land. Our first stop was at a rock circle that has been in existence from the first recorded history or the area. No one knows why the prehistoric circle was built. Could it be a place of meeting? worship? aliens?

As we continued our trek trying to avoid the bogs, we added shirts, windpants, jackets, windbreakers, wool hats, and gloves, lightening our packs and keeping us warm against temperatures in the 50s and constant winds of between 40 and 50 miles per hours with a few gusts of 60+. We stopped for lunch on the lee side of a slate stone pasture wall which kept out most of the wind but we ate in mostly silence--a first for our chatty group of comrades.

During lunch the clouds thickened and when we restarted our walk, the sleet began. Fortunately, it didn't last very long.

What could be worse than this? There was a cross country bicycle race going on so the entire time we were met by bicycle racers coming down the mountain trying to cross the washouts, bogs, ruts and rocks and stay upright on two wheels. Although they had it much worse, the Brits are a hardy lot and we were always greeted with smiles and cheerful "hullos."

As we started down the mountain,  we were able to remove some layers, but then the beck fording began with boots wedged against slick, wet rocks and a couple of scrambles as we leaned close to the mountain to avoid tipping over the edge. Eventually the sun came out cheering our flagging spirits.

Hurston, our hike leader, said this is the first time the weather has been good enough and the hikers have been strong enough to take this very challenging yet scenic way. We so impressed him with our fortitude and fell hiking abilities he bought each of us a beer when we arrived (13.5 miles and nearly 8 hours later) in Paterdale. His wife is our tour leader and she confirmed that he never buys beer for a group so we felt very special indeed!

Today was the easiest day so far. A bus picked us up in Glenridding and drove us about 14 miles to a trail head in the Yorkshire Dales. If you have read James Herriott's books about his veterinary practice, you have a sense of the area. We are still technically in the Lake District but by the end of today's short 8 mile hike over an old train trestle and viaduct and through sheep, cow and horse pastures, we could see on the hill crest Nine Standard Rigg, large cairns dating back to  at least the 17th century that mark the official end of the Lake District and the beginning of Yorshire Dales National Park.

We walked through the town of Kirkby Stephen (pronounced Kirby Stephen) to our B & B's. Below are some photos of the gardens in front of the houses in the neighborhood. They are exquisite and a lovely way to end a perfectly warm, sunny, easy stroll.

Fells, tarns, and becks--oh, my!

Whilst sitting in our hotel in Glenridding spoilt for choice in deciding today's activities, we've decided to pop into town and search out a tea room for this afternoon since we have the day off from two strenuous hiking days.

Here is a short vocabulary lesson.

Fells: mountains or extremely high hills if you live in the Rockies or Himilayas
tarns: small lakes (the only other time I have encountered this word is in Poe's "Fall of the House of Usher")
Becks: brooks or rapid streams
Forces: water falls
cairns: rock formations on the fell ridges

When we arrived in Grasmere, home of Wordsworth, rather than tour the great poet's house, we all headed immediately to the famous gingerbread store. Hiking certainly alters one's priorities.

We did visit Wordsworth's grave and family plot before heading out on the hike the next day. Yesterday was brilliant and we climbed 3300 feet. We descended to Glenridding, which lies beside Ullswater Lake. We have three nights here in a lovely hotel.

Although the going has been challenging the last two days, we are very privileged to have been blessed with beautiful weather--cool and windy, but no rain. This is only the second time in five tries our guides have been able to lead a group on the high ridge rather than the valley. They had to choose the valley route three times because of downpours and dangerous conditions.

The views are breathtaking and although the photos don't do justice, I'll let them speak for themselves.

At the top after five hours of vertical hiking and some rock scrambling.

Ullswater Lake--one of the most beautiful views in the Lake District

Our first stop even before going to the hotel was the famous gingerbread shop in Grasmere. Does it live up to its reputation? You betcha!

14.6 miles and a 2000 foot vertical gain--Killer Day

After a difficult vertical climb over rough and rocky terrain, we were thrilled by the views.  In my typical klutz fashion, I fell in the mud, thus the black stain on my knee. 

Bill, a retiree from the local nuclear power plant, walked with our group as sweep, the last in line to make sure no one fell behind. He and his wife had prepared hot tea for our lunch.

Today was TOUGH so the blog will be short. Our walk began easily enough as we hiked around Ennerdale Water to Ennerdale Bridge, made famous as the spot where William Jefferson Clinton proposed to Hillary Rodham. We were soon in the forest and finally had lunch at a youth hostel where our friends from the local community were waiting with pots of hot tea and sponge cake. Unfortunately there were no "facilities" and since the Sierra Club's motto is "leave not a trace," I was presented with a plastic trowel and told where there was a rock sufficient enough in heft to afford me some privacy. Folks, this was a first and one that makes me appreciate even more all the four and five star hotels I've had the privledge of staying in. But I digress.

After lunch we began the climb. Although the storm clouds threatened, rain stayed away and with encouragement and promises from our leader Aurora that amazing vistas lay ahead, we struggled to the top of Honister Pass. At the top we were awed by magnificent views of Pillar (2927 feet) and Great Gable (2949 feet) and in the far background we could even see the coast of Scotland.

The rocky path then lead down to Honister Quarry, one of the oldest slate mines still operating. We continued our descent into Borrowdale, where we were surrounded by forest and moss -covered boulders, a scene taken straight out of Tolkein's hobbit village. I expected fairies to hop from behind the rocks and tickle our noses and had it been closer to nightfall, they probably would have.

With sore feet, stiff muscles, and complaining backs, we were grateful to arrive at our accommodations for the night and enjoyed another gourmet meal prepared with fresh, local ingredients.

Tomorrow: Grasmere, famous for Wordsworth and gingerbread cookies! I can do this if the rewards are great enough.

Part of the "fairy forest"

This concrete bridge is where Bill proposed to Hillary. No wonder she said yes. The scenery is beautiful in all directions!

9.5 miles and getting nowhere fast

The Irish Sea and the coastline of England

As a child I read a fable about the sun and the wind having an argument about who was the stronger. They decided to have a contest to see who could make a man walking along the road remove his cloak. The wind blew and blew and blew and as the gale force winds buffeted the traveler,  he pulled his cloak tighter and tighter around him. The wind had blown himself out and in frustration gave up the fight. Next it was the sun's turn. The sun slowly peaked from behind a cloud and sent his gentle, warm beams down on the traveler. After a short while in the sunshine, the man removed his cloak, draped it over his arm, and smiled as he strolled merrily on his way. What is the moral here? By being warm and gentle, you are much more persuasive than if you are cold and blustery.

What prompted this memory from my childhood was our walk today--the official beginning of our Coast to Coast trek across England.

At 9:00 we made our way to the Irish Sea at the edge of St. Bee's where we selected a pebble to carry to Robin Hood's Bay (the end of our trail) and dip our boots in the water, a baptism if you will, that officially began our walk. The weather was cold, overcast, and blustery; so we had all donned multiple layers and anticipated being drenched in the rain forecast to begin within the hour. As we traveled up the cliffs along the coast, we continued to be buffeted by gusts of between 30 and 40 m.p.h., yet our enthusiasm was undeterred and we trudged onward to be rewarded by a beautiful vista of fields, village and beach. (see photo below)

Throughout the day we shared pasture land with sheep and cows, learned how to efficiently step over and through stiles (gates), forded small streams and looked out over numerous picturesque seaside villages. One town was the birthplace of John Paul Jones, founder of the American Navy, who attacked the village during the Revolutionary War. Some say he captured the city and imprisoned several English soldiers. Others say his sailors landed, immediately went to the pub, got very drunk, and left.

By 11 a.m. the wind had not diminished but the rain clouds had parted and the sun warmed our bodies and spirits. Eventually we turned inland and the wind lessened and lessened. Soon folks were stopping to remove layers of clothing and praising the perfect hiking weather. We stopped in Sandwith to have our sandwiches (that's not a joke) and soon headed on to Ennerdale, arriving earlier than predicted by our leader. In fact, we are the fastest group yet! Unfortunately, I think that means our leaders think we are good enough to add more mileage to our trip. :-)
After a beer at Ennerdale, we hopped on our van which dropped us back at our b&b's in St. Bee's.

Tomorrow we are scheduled to hike 13.5 miles (and gain 2000 feet of altitude) and we actually will make progress west!

We dipped our boots into the Irish Sea, a ceremony marking the beginning of the hike across England.

"Johnny Ho!"

We are learning how to traverse stiles stylishly.

The cows look very contented to me.

Glasgow-Carlisle-St. Bee's

As I sit here in the cozy lounge of Abbey Farm House B & B in St. Bee's near the west coast of England sipping my hot Tetley tea and munching on a biscuit, I am delighted the rain has stopped and the sun is emerging from behind the rolling hill pastures demarcated by stone walls and dotted with sheep.  It's all so veddy, veddy civilized.


We spent the day in Glasgow settling in to our guest house, fighting jetlag, and marveling over the cool, windy weather--think early November in Southern Indiana. We were so refreshed after the stifling summer heat we didn't mind donning our polar fleece jackets and headbands.

Glasgow is not as picturesque as many parts of Scotland, but it certainly has its charms.


Jo and I enjoyed the highspeed train that whisked us directly to Carlisle the next morning where we promptly checked into our b & b and indulged in a lunch of fish and chips--no longer served wrapped in newspaper :-(  but still soggy with grease and served up with plenty of salt and vinegar :-)


After touring Carlisle Castle and cathedral and having a wonderful Italian dinner, we snuggled into bed to await our first day with the group.


Today our group toured a section of Hadrian's wall built in 180 B.C. by the Romans to keep out the hordes from the north. We also toured Birdoswald Fort, an outpost for the Empire that was manned by Romanian soldiers (from Romania, not Rome). Edward I died near here of diarrhea and Bonny Prince Charles led the Jacobite Rebellion in 1745. 


Lots of history here in the old country!

After touring Glasgow by the red double- decker hop on/hop off bus , we were walking back to our hotel and chanced upon a street performance that stirred our hearts. I felt as if I were watching ancient Scots preparing for battle. In one word: impressive!

Tony was our great host at our B&B in Carlisle.

Hadrian's wall was originally 12-15 feet tall but over the centuries local citizens have used stones from the wall to build their farm houses and pasture walls. Is that bad because of a destroyed artifact or is that good because they were recycling?

I was looking forward to a good soak in this claw foot tub but the boiler was out so no hot water. Bummer! But the room is still beautiful if less than functional. 

Glasgow to Carlisle

We have toured Glasgow and then taken the train to Carlisle where we met our group for dinner last night. Today we toured Hadrian's Wall and Birdoswald, a Roman fort.
This post will be short since I am at a cybercafe and the van leaves in about 15 minutes for St. Bee's where we dip our boots in the Irish Sea and offically begin our trek across England.
When time and internet access permit, I'll post pictures and more detail.

For now, cheerio!

The Adventure Begins

The much anticipated Walk across England began today with Jo and I taking off from the Indianapolis airport.

We wanted to take Alex, Jo's son, as our sherpa, but, alas, he had too many fires to extinguish in Indianapolis. Thanks, Alex, for being such a gracious host!

Now that you are here

Some of you may and some of you may not have heard of an experiment at Stanford University studying four-year-olds and their ability not to eat a marshmallow placed before them with the promise that if they could wait they would be rewarded with two marshmallows when the researcher returned to the room.


http://www.sybervision.com/Discipline/marshmallow.htm

A follow-up of the four-year-olds when they were adults revealed that those who could resist the impulse to eat the first marshmallow in hopes of receiving a second marshmallow were the most successful adults--in careers, families, happiness, etc.

This study, when I was reminded of it by a friend,  became the inspiration for the title and focus of my blog.  I have been waiting a long time for my second marshmallow.

 Now that it's here I plan to take both sweet,  puffy treats and skewer them, roast them over a fire until lightly toasted and pop them with their crunchy shells and melted, sugary centers into my mouth and savour all the deliciousness that I have anticipated for decades. Thus begins the metaphor for the next part of my life.

Friday Jo and I will depart for England to begin a 190-mile coast to coast trek. We signed up for this journey led by the Sierra Club last fall and I have spent the last nine months getting my marshmallow butt in shape.  Now the much anticipated day is nearly here and as I pack and repack clothes, boots, hiking poles and sundries; as I once again check that my passport is indeed close by and that the battery chargers for my camera, computer, cell phone, Kindle (it's England not Timbuktu) are in a zip lock and that the proper plug adapters are in another zip lock; as I check again the itinerary and try to remember names such as St. Bees and Ennerdale Bridge and Sunbiggin Tarn, I will savour the anticipation, the sweetness to come and the knowledge that a dream deferred doesn't have to melt, burn and dissolve during the fire trial of a life well-lived.

Take my hand (to paraphrase Walt Whitman) and walk with me.

P.S. I'll try to post daily but may not have internet access. Enjoy!