Edinburgh Fringe Festival

I arrived in Edinburgh late on a Thursday evening and so I found the closest bar that did 2 meals for

£10 (that's a thing in the UK) and proceeded to replace a truckload of lost calories through hotdogs and burgers. This was supplemented with enough pints to get me beyond tipsy before retiring hurt (but not out) to bed ready for a long weekend of Edinburgh!

I was super glad to see this sign!

Now before we get started I want to make one thing abundantly clear - I have travelled to many places on this fair planet and Edinburgh is my favourite city. Granted, I was there in summer and not winter which I reckon would have a significant impact my outlook but I loved all of it.

Baiky, straight to the grog of course.

Now, Edinburgh was not just a favourite place for me but also for philosophers, artists, and authors alike. JK Rowling found insipration for Harry Potter and wrote her early books there and philosopher David Hume, did, uh, philosophy there. It even has artistic theives who stole the Stone of Scone from Westminster Abbey in a daring robbery and food artisans that deep fry Mars Bars (although, strictly speaking, this is more of a Scottish thing than Edinburgh thing)

It has a castle and a church with a dog mascot (GreyFriars Bobby); Arthur's seat, a massive cliff; and lets not forget the Grassmarket, currently filled with pubs but was also used for public hangings back in the day. It was here Maggie Dickson died and came back to life after being hung for allegedly killing a baby. See, its a lovely place!

View showing a 'lovely place'; old town, from Greyfriars.

Of course, I was there for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, the largest arts festival in the world. Gemma and I indulged (Gemma joined me by plane, I called cheating!). We saw a show about the history of the Blues; a crazy mix of ballet and juggling; a story telling of the the Book of Love performed by one women completely in mime; a British bloke telling his favourites stories about Australia and zombies (same bloke, separate acts); an act focused fully on video games; and, the hidden gem, the Card Ninja.

Baiky: beer ninja.

Now, if all of that isn't enought to whet your appetite for a bit of Scottish love I will top it off with the best bar ever that really, just ties the city together. 

My Epic Journey: Leicester to Edinburgh

So, a year ago (yup,  have been lazy with keeping up to date). I decided it would be fun to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. So I threw a tent and sleeping bag on my bike and started an epic journey north in search of adventure and comedy.

This should be easy, shouldn't it?

My journey saw me heading through Loughborough (of course) before angling slightly more easterly through the barley fields of Lincolnshire to Hull where I took the bridge over Humber.

Humber Bridge in Hull

Once on the other side of the Estuary I hit the coast and pretty much followed it north, passing through Scarbarough before ascending into the North Yourshire moors and descending into Sunderland and Newcastle.

Scarborough - clearly a popular place. The line of cars trying to get into town stretched back for miles and miles and I got to glide past all of them suckers!

A ferry ride saw me across the Tyne and I soon found myself exploring the Northumberland Coast Area of Natural Beauty. I continued North with a brief detour to Holy Island before striking inland at Bewick Upon Tweed. My westerly path through Northumberland took me to the Scottish Border, where I again turned north and I slugged my way through hilly East Lothaine until I once again reached the North Sea. From here I meandered to Edinburgh, where after 6 days and about 500 miles I had finally reached my destination!

Sunrise in Sproatley.

While the short description above makes it simple, it wasn't without its trials. Almost immediatly after leaving Loughborugh I had tube troubles that saw me arrrive at my first destination at 11pm at night (6 hours late) without any spare tubes left. By this time I had deduced I needed to replace my tyre, but the nearest bike store was 30 miles away. Sure enough ten miles in to the next day Gemma had to meet me with a new tire and tubes...

One day in and I'm out of tubes, out of patches, and out of luck.

Another time, just in Scotland I flew down the bottom of great big hill and realised Baiky had jumped ship! Pretty certain I scared all the nearby grazing sheep with my curses as I slugged my back up and over the hill to Foulden where Baiky was resting casually on the side of the road.

 Baiky taking a rest in Foulden. Bloody free loader.

But, without a doubt, the good times were worth it. With the exception of some heavy rain on the first day and some more on my second night the weather was spot on. On the second day the sun rising as I passed through Sproatly followed by the clouds rolling on over the North Sea as I passed through Mapleton was spectacular.

Mapleton looking over the North Sea.

The odd farmer and sheep sculpture on Reighton's roundabout and the random row boat in a public garden in Cresswell were among the highlights of sculptures as well as the memorial to fallen soldiers in Seaham.

Reighton's Roundabout. Nearly left Baiky here too.

While the North York Moors weren't to my liking, Scarborough was stunning as were the beaches by Sandsend. Crossing the tidal causeway to Holy Island during sunrise was breathtaking, which ony improved when I stumbled across the stone stacks on the beach overlooking Lindisfarne Castle.

Stone stack's and Lindisfarne Castle on Holy Island.

And, of course, I met a slew of interesting people on the way. Two fellow cyclists who ahd never really cycled before, but quit there jobs and decided to cycle around Europe for 6 months (the were about 5 hours into the journey when I met them).

Weirdos!

The generous owners of various camping grounds I styaed in offering me spare tyres (none fit) or introducing me to their turkeys (or were they geese, I can't remember). The retired bloke living on a caravan park in South Shields who gets up every morning in summer to watch the sun rise (admittedly summer is pretty short in the county of Durham).

Eleven O one sculpture in Seaham.

But I guess the real question is this. I spent six days slogging through rain, sun, sand, up hills, on major roads I shouldn't have been, got lost a couple of times, and had to back track looking for wayward seals. Gemma spent 40 minutes on a plane...

 But then again, I got to visit Brandy Wharf.

Yup, I am scared of heights

I have finally had my first balloon flights, and they well and truly confirmed what I already was pretty certain of; I am not a fan of heights.

Huw tests a Hopper.

My first experience floating hundreds of feet in the air in a wicker basket was when Huw, a pilot in training, needed some...uh...training. I am man enough to admit I was a little nervous and struggled to climb into the basket, but, before I had time to gather my senses the balloon was lifting off.

Farmland in Leicestershire.

And up we went. Quickly. Very quickly. So quick I didn't even have enough time to be concerned about the flight. I stood in the basket, transfixed by the view as we rose up higher and higher. Well, transfixed because of the view, and because moving around didn't seem like a salubrious activity at that particular time. Yup, I was perfectly content gripping onto one of the poles as tightly as possible.

A farmhouse way down below - these farmers waved, but the dog seemed  a little unhappy at our presence.

I did relax after a bit and got to enjoy some the finer aspects of ballooning over stockfarms. Cows were the funniest. Contrary to expectations the cows run towards the balloon and not away from. Kids would wave and dogs would bark. At one point we were able to spot our retrieve vehicle (the car that comes and picks you up when you land) waiting patiently for us to land.

Pretending not to be scared.

We spotted a likely field/landing spot but on our way down the owners of the property politley requested we find an alternate landing space (don't you dare land that fucking thing here). So yeah, pretty much got to experience everything a good balloon flight requires.

Flying in Bristol.

Stupidly, after all my fears from Huw's test flight I went up(!) again at the Bristol balloon festival. For some reason, this time I was absolutely pertrified. I jumped in the basket because I wanted the experience 100 000 spectators waving and cheering is we flew, but wowee, I stood stockstill for most of the flight; to scared to even tremble in my boots. Got some good photos still...

View over River Servern.

Like last year, it was super being part of a crew: access to the pilot's bar, on the ground at nightglow, etc. This time I was even given an important role in the setup of my flight managing the crown line, which in itself brought about its own set of anxiousness...

Plus, it was awesome taking off absolutely surrounded by balloons and crowds.

The Land of the Midnight Sun

Our near-death encounter with the Stalos was quite close to the Norwegian Border, and it wasn't long before we had crossed the peaks of a mountain range into Norway. After a brief stop for some fuel, a quick run up a mountain and an ice cream we continued on to our next haven, Bodø.

 

Not this mountain, this mountain is not for running.

Bodø is a town of about 50 000 people and is just north of the Arctic circle. We were to truly experience the midnight sun and we made it all the way to 1am before accidentally falling asleep.

Midnight - this was pretty much as dark as it got for the entire trip (except Trondheim). 

We spent a couple of nights in Bodø, so on our second day we went explorin'; and what did we find? Saltstraumen, a massive maelstrom, which has the strongest tidal currents in the world!

 

My strength vs Saltstraumen.

Admittedly it wasn't as visually epic as I was hoping, but there were some brave souls boating around and it was funny to see them shoot off when caught in the currents.

 

Gemma with the maelstrom.

But, the real epic of this journey was Kystrikveien, otherwise known as Route 17. This is the Great Ocean Road of Norway, and sorry Victoria, you have a lot of work to do. The full route is 650 kms and runs from Bodø to Steinkje.

One of the many, many fjords.

We took it as far as Trondheim, stopping off at Sandnessjøen and Namsos on the way. the coastal route crosses spectacular fjords, passes huge cliffs, and even a glacier (there's only a few sample pictures in this blog, but photos just can't do it justice).

Gemma and I at Svartisen; Norway's second biggest glacier.

Fortunately, we were blessed with sunshine and blue skies, which accentuated the blue in the water features, and ensuring we saw it its best. Unfortunately, I am pretty certain I have seen the most gorgeous landscapes Earth can conjure so I may as well not travel anymore (we also got to too swim in the Norwegian Sea).

By swimming I mean paddling...well, barely paddling. It turns out the Norwegian Sea is really, really, really, really cold. Even in summer.

To add a bit more fun to the trip, there are SIX ferry crossings littered throughout just so you can cross the larger fjords.

This monument marks the Arctic Circle, it showed us we had finally left the arctic circle and the midnight sun.

The ferry interruptions were kinda fun, because it meant you were stuck in a little convoy, with all the other travellers who were enjoying the route. No matter how fast someone went, you would always meet them at the next ferry crossing waiting to board.

 

The perfectly still waters perfectly reflected everything.

After a full day of driving and ferry catching we ended up in Sandnessjøen. Now, Sandnessjøen is not a big town, but it sits on a gorgeous isle on the west coast of Norway which means a you need a bridge to get there. And Sandnessjøen is known for its bridge! (apparently).

This massive bridge connected Sandnessjøen to the mainland, unfortunately Gemma was driving and is somewhat terrified of driving on bridges.

On our penultimate day we jumped back on Kystrikveien and headed for Trondheim. I was really keen to stop by and see the seven sisters mountain range, but unfortunately we encountered our first fog for the trip. Much to my disappointment even at the base of the range, couldn't even see the slope of the mountain, let alone the range of peaks.

Baiky and an itty bitty Gemma all the way back in the cave.

Not to be discouraged we soldiered on towards Torghatten. Torghatten is a mountain with a hole in it; and not just an itty bitty hole either, but a massive tunnel straight through the centre of it. We finished off with a night in Namsos, the Rock city before flying home. Then I had to relearn how to drive on the left side of the road.

Gemma blending in with the local fauna.

Forever Sun, I wanna see forever sun

One thing I really wanted to experience while I was in Europe was 24 hours of daylight. I had heard of it, but not really believed it. So Gemma and I packed some things and headed north of the arctic circle to see if there really is such a thing as daytime that never ends during the summer solstice.

Gemma in a forever twilight.

We flew into Trondheim (Norway) on 17 June, hired a car, and commenced on a 7 day road trip through Scandinavia. We started off by heading east into Sweden and visiting Östersund and Arjeplog before heading back west into Norway and following the Kystriksveien (aka route 17) from Bodø through Sandnessjøen and finally back to Trondheim on 23 June.

'Sploring. 'Sploring through Scandi.

We were struck by a few difficulties early on: number 1 being actually getting to the airport, we somewhat misjudged the traffic on the M25 (or whatever silly motorway we used) and had to leave our one bag of hold luggage in the car. The second issue was driving once in Scandinavia; driving on the right is hard, - even though I have done this before the increased traffic made me somewhat more anxious.

Plus, I found their cars a little unusual.

The entire trip we were faced with stunning scenery in both Sweden and Norway, and most importantly didn't see the dark night skies for the entire trip. Our first night in Trondheim was the closest to darkness that we got; twilight appeared at about 2am. The next day we followed the E14 into Sweden to Östersund where we were greeted by distant snow-topped mountain peaks and roadside waterfalls.

Gemma at our first waterfall.

Östersund is a lovely city. It sits on the stunning Lake Storsjön and has expanses of greenery with  a beautiful public park, an outdoor theatre, a playground, and statues of naked people and clearly defined genitalia. It also is home the the northernmost runestone and some outlandishly strange road signs.

  Not sure what this means - boys and girls come out and play all along the motorway? Perhaps they're RPG fans?

In fact, the only aspects we were somewhat disappointed with were complete lack of people and the hotel didn't have particularly thick curtains (which is kinda a good problem given what we were looking for). Also, we couldn't find anywhere to try some Swedish meatballs.

I still don't really know what turns a stone into a runestone but, Viola, a runestone.

After a night in Östersund we visiting an old ruin of the Old Sunne church and hunted for Storsjöodjuret - the Swedish/Östersund/Lake Storsjön version of Nessie. After this we followed the E45 towards our next destination, Arjeplog. 

Waiting for the Storsjöodjuret.

I enjoyed the Swedish countryside. Much like Australia it seems very remote and isolated outside of the cities when compared to the UK in which you always seem to be driving through towns, villages, cities. We stopped off to admire forests, rivers, and deer as we drove past. We even managed to find a model of old-timey Swedish village in Strömsund complete with a singing wooden gorilla (if you think that doesn't make sense try witnessing it in real life)!

Baiky overlooking Lake Hornavan.

We arrived in Arjeplog in mid-afternoon I tiny town on the massive Lake Hornavan. Our hotel was...unusual. Filled with stuffed animals, undergoing renovations, and had its own miniature sami village on a nearby islet.

Yes, it was weird.

Arjeplog was pretty much devoid of life, but we managed to find a fastfood restaurant Gemma dubbed Swedish Mcdonalds when the chanting started. We snuck outside to find a numerous small groups of locals, whom we assumed had Sami heritage, banging drums and chanting outside the town's famous pink church. An while we were excited at seeing more than 5 people in one place at a time it seemed cultish. We took sneaky photos (from a distance) and ran away.

The local priest invited us to join them for dinner. This was not a comfort.

On the dawn of our final day in Sweden we jumped on the 95 and headed west towards Norway. up until this stage of our journey we had mostly being in flat woodlands, but as we neared the Norwegian border we rose into the mountains. 

The model Sami village.

Despite being  summer snow soon blanketed the ground and deer fed by the roadside. We explored a mountain river and waterfall where we became overexcited at seeing people BBQing and fishing. 

and we... ahhh...pretended to be reindeer.

We stopped at a rest stop to admire the pristine white snow sparkling in the sunshine, frolicked through the creeks, and tramped through the snow. The we came across a Stalos site. For the uninitiated, Stalos are evil, simpleminded, and one-eyed beasts from local folklore. We found a campfire and red marks in the snow that looked a little like blood stains. We jumped in our car, drove to the border, and left Sweden. We left Sweden forever...

Is this a Stalos house?

Peak district

So, Gemma and I went to the Peak District for the May Bank Holiday. For those of you keeping track, that is prior to the Sausage and Cider Festival, so I am falling even further behind in my posts. Not to worry, the busy period at work is over so I have time to update you all.

Its nice, but...um...where are all the peaks?

The peak district is a national park that is mostly in Derbyshire, so it is not too far from Leicester. We camped out for two nights and went 'xploring during the day. Our first visit was to Eyam. Eyam's famous for being a plague village. In 1665 when the bubonic plague reared its ugly head the village went into voluntary isolation. They clearly did this for the sole purpose of being able to market itself as a tourist destination 350 years later, because the action isolation did not stop the steady march of the plague.

Castleton, not Eyam. Castleton just looks more picturesque and my photo of the Eyam sundial was woeful.

 All through the town there was information about the plague with many houses proudly proclaiming how many people died within their walls along with short (and somewhat morbid) bios. We also visited a museum and learnt the many methods of curing plague the involved somewhat atypical methods not practiced by modern medicine; plucking chickens, blooding amphibians, catching mice (I may have got my cures crossed, but you get the picture).

 Entering the Arse.

We visited a couple of caves, one of which was named named the Devil's Arse because (allegedly) flatulent noises could be heard from inside the cave, where we learnt how to make rope. This process stinks, so maybe that is where the name came from. We also took a boat through Speedwell caves. This was really cool, I think mostly because I am slightly claustrophobic so I was in edge the entire time (the tunnels are really close). 

 I maintain that this picture offers me every right to be anxious

Other than that we just took in the scenery. I went hunting for Robin Hood's cave, but wasn't really sure what I was looking for. I ended up on top of the Creswell Crags. 

When I took this photo I was really hoping it was Robin Hood's cave. It is not Robin Hoods cave.

I went for another run from Casteton trying to get to Kinder Scout because it is supposed to be awesome. Much to my chagrin I failed to use my map and compass properly and ended up lost; I am still not too sure where I went although I did get back to Edale okay. It turns out that southern hemisphere compasses do not work in the northern hemisphere, and explains the simialr debacle Goof and I got into many moons ago in Siberia. 

 This is Grinds Book. I was not lost yet. After Grinds Brook I followed a trail that did not actually exist in a direction I though was north. It was not north and the trail slowly disappeared...

Lastly, Gemma and I enjoyed a walk around Ladybower Resevoir, with a particular interest in the Derwent Dam as teh RAF used this site to practice bombing runs prior to the attacks in German dams in WWII.

Aha! My picture of the Sundial, and it is not (too) crappy!

Then...ah...we went home. Story over. Man I really need to work on my endings.