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.

Sausage and Cider Festival(s)

Now, I am the first to admit that my previous entry was a little poor, but I am soooooo far behind on stuff that I am just rushing to catch up. The festival this entry is on actually took place in June! A quick sneak preview of what is still to be added to the Sprightly Dugong includes road trips around Norway and Sweden, a motorbike tour of Northern Ireland, a cycling tour from Loughborough to Edinburgh and the Fringe Festival, a weekend in the Peak district, my first (and second) balloon flights, and, of course, my move to Loughborough to live with Gemma. 

Gemma was very excited about me moving in. Note the was...oh how things change when you live together.

All that said, be prepared to be blown away by the following entry: A full description of the 2015 Oadby Sausage and Cider Festival (and a comparison with the Leicestershire Sausage and Cider Festival)!

Your esteemed cider critics: Phillip and Gemma

Fortunately the Oadby fesitival was a sunny day. Gemma and I made the most of it by trying as many ciders as possible and then writing our own descriptions to go along with those in the provided literature. As you will see below most of the ciders were really good. I should probably warn readers about some unsociable language in the upcoming descriptions; the drunker we got the more crass we became!

Baiky loved this idea and decided to take on the role of editor.

Dabinett (Medium 7%)
Their description: Made from apples grown in Leicestershire's Wellend Valley.
Phillip Says: Good - everything a cider should be: apples and alcoholic. Beautiful red-yellow (also known as orange - ed.) colour. But who would call a cider orange?

Black Rat Perry (Medium Sweet 7.5%)
Their description: A fruity pear cider - dangerously drinkable. Go steady - this is a rocket.
Gemma Says: Cider with a bit of a twitch.

Mango (Sweet 4%)
Their description: An aromatic sweet cider blended with exotic mango to create a tantalising tropical flavour.
Phillip says: Sweet - fucking sweet. Sweet in both meanings; taste and awesome. Also, it tastes of mangoes (this was the first cider of the day, was the language really necessary? - Ed.)

Wilkins Farmhouse Cider (Dry 6%)
Their description: Jamie Oliver, Jerry Hall, Johnny Rotten - the world flocks to Roger Wilkin's amazing cider farmhouse in Mudgley, Somerset.We've brought his cider to you!
Gemma says: There is a fly in my cider. (Hmmm, not particulaly descriptive... Ed.)

 

Tasty, tasty cider...with added protein.

Janet's Jungle Juice (Medium 6%)
Their description: A medium cider with fabulous appley twang. Apple crumble in a glass!
Phillip says: If an apple could sweat in a jungle this is what it would smell like. Tastes like liquid apple BO, and, much like BO, I got used to it with time.

Devon Blush (Medium Sweet 4.5%)
Their description: Devon cider mixed with the juice of freshly picked blackberries - summer in a glass.
Gemma says: Pretty colour, glad for the blackcurrent flavour to set aside from other ciders; very drinkable. (I assume she meant blackberry flavour - Ed.)

Rutland Cider (Medium 6%)
Their description: Made with apples grown in Rutland, a light easy drinking cider with biscuity, earthy finish.
Phillip says: Aroma - piss, looks like piss. Light, refreshing, and pleasantly drinkable.

Ed. says: Good thing its not warm...

Now we had many more ciders and more descriptions but the festival was more than just ciders! In the mid-afternoon Glynn, a mate from work, wandered by looking for a spare table, so I invited him, and his partner Candice to join us. At first they were a bit weirded out by the presence of a stuffed toy with two grown adults, but they soon grew accustomed to Baiky's presence.

Gemma, Glynn, Baiky, Candice and me. Don't let the photo fool you, we are quite, quite drunk.

All in all, it was an awesome day and kudos to the organisers. They had fun activities in a playing area for kids, the live entertainment was a really good mixture of covers and new talent, and the range of sausages and ciders was HUGE!!!! We had such a good time that Gemma and I bought tickets and camped overnight at the Leicetershire Sausage and Cider festival a few weeks later. Our thought process was - if the Oadby festivalwas awesome, then surely a bigger one for all of Leicesterhsire will be even more awesome. So we invited Gemma's sister, Harriet, and Harriet's partner, Stu, and away we went.

Gemma, Harriet, and Stu at the Leicestershire Sausage and Cider Festival.

Unfortunately, the Leicestershire festival was all types of disappointing. The selection of ciders was  tiny compared to the Oadby festival and the sausage range consisted of three sausages. Additionally, when we arrived at lunchtime on Saturday, the line for the bar was immense. While this queue disappeared after a couple of hours, it was quite a disappointment after waiting in traffic for ages to enter the parking lot and then long wait to get into the event. The live entertainment was mostly cover bands, but the sound was not particularly good and it was a struggle to hear the music.

My photo of the Queen cover band.

Overall, the Oadby Sausage and Cider festival stands as a shining beacon of festivals that all others should try and emulate. Of course, I really hope that not many other people cotton on to this or I might find myself fighting the crowds in Oadby too!

Channel Islands: Isle of Wight

Of all the islands we visited, the Isle of Wight is closest to the UK; the ferry ride was only a couple of hours from mainland (opposed to like six or seven). It was also full of surprises.

Like this! I fully found Sooty!

By surprises I mean some things we did we thought would be AWESOME, but were actually somewhat disappointing, whereas other things we stumbled across blew our minds.

I am sure that everyone would agree that a triceratops is an example of awesome.

Our first surprise was our hotel. While the name was not imprinted on my brain, its decor will forever be burned into my memory. It was nautically themed and full of old people. Best of all were that areas of the hotel were named after areas of a ship. We got to stay on poop deck; Baiky and I were very excited about this.

Let immaturity reign supreme.

An example of a disappointment was our visit to an area that I thought was famous for dinosaur fossils (Isle of Wight is well known for its prehistoric remains). However, all we found was a dinosaured themed adventure park, and while I sometimes act a little childish (see above), there are limits.

Gemma on the cliffs.

So Gemma and I walked along some nearby cliffs, which brought us to out next surprise -  a rocket!!!

Yup, an ancient rocket ship.

As one is want to do on the Isle of Wight, we visted the Needles; chalk stacks rising out of the sea near the west coast. Let me tell you, this area had been done up bythe local government for the tourists, and boy, did they turn something good into something I immensely disliked!

The needles!

It was expensive to enter, there were gaudy rides, and it was impossible to get a good look at the stacks. The stacks been the entire reason we were there.

Found some chalk though.

 It wasn't all bad though. The needles does have a few other points of interest I was unaware of. A monument commemorates the first place wireless signals were sent across open sea, there was really cool glass blowing demonstration, and it was also a site for testing rockets. This area was used extensively in the 50s and 70s to test rocket technology.

Did not realise glass blowing actually meant blowing glass.

We also found two fascinating villages, one an old timey crafts village, which was okay, and one village for birds and monkeys; this was awesome.

Baiky relaxes with a Cider from Isle of Wight, in a stone bottle (perfect for keeping my brews) and stone goblet (I've always wanted one of these).

Channel Islands: Jersey

Jersey!!! (I climbed that).

Jersery is the largest of the Channel Islands, measuring in at a whooping 119.5 km² (thanks wikipedia!). Fun fact, when I first heard the names Guersey and Jersey for the Channel Island I thought to myself 'he, I never knew if I should call a sporting top a Guernsey or a Jersey'. This is because I constantly heard both being used as I was growing up to describe sporting tops but never knew which was correct. 

Gemma got bored during my hunt for the origin of the Jersey and Guernsey, so she went and got an icecream for breakfast. Crazy Brits.

Now, 10 to 15 years on, curiously, I come across two islands right next to each other that share the same name. Coincidence? Surely not. In the 15th century (or so) these two islands were famous for their woolen knitted sweaters. Jersey made jerseys and Guernsey made Guernsey. Was there any discernible difference between the two back then? Probably not, but I am sure many a bar fight was started by it. Of course, this has nothing to do with sporting terms, except I now know that a 'guernsey' is worn in Aussie Rules and a jersey in pretty much every other sport. Anyway, I digress...

Gemma at Elizabeth Castle

Jersey gave us bright sunshine, so we made the most of it by checking out the beaches and climbing on the rocks. We waited for the tide to change and, forgoing the amphibious bus/boat monstrosity,  walked along the causeway to Elizabeth Castle. 

 This may drive on land and float in the sea, but I did not trust it at all.

I got us lost as we went searching for the Jersey War tunnels. I did find out that apparently some of the Jersey locals are incredibly worried about burglars. The War tunnels were good, and described life on the island during WWII, including during the German occupation.

Its hard to see, but this fence is topped with broken glass. It was a nice house...

We spent one day driving around the island. We visited a few piers, like St Catherine's Breakwater, sort out some amazing coastal views by walking along the paths around High Cliff. I went for a brief run to the highest point on the island and came face-to-face with a radar dish. 

View from Les Platons, the highest point in Jersey.

Gemma and I also tried to find Leicester tower by had no success. Our final destination was the Devil's Hole.

The Devil's Hole.

This is a natural blowhole in a cliff. Supposedly, it got its name supposedly from a shipwreck in the area. The figure head washed up into the crater and a local sculptor worked the figurehead into a statue of the devil, a replica of which has been erected by the Hole.

 The Devil (looks lonely)

On our final evening we ended at a pub that gave a sense of deja vu for some reason.

Channel Islands: Sark

Ahh Sark. It was everything I expected it to be. This, of course, is not particularly difficult when I was looking somewhere nice and romantic for Easter and Sark is a dark community. Yup, no cars, no outdoor lights, limited indoor lighting (that can be seen outdoors), and on Easter Sunday no friggin restaurants or pubs.

Admittedly there was other stuff to do.

At least that we planned for. Gemma and I had squirreled away some grog and tasty snacks. She bought some cider from Guernsey and I had topped up my trusty hip flask. So, fully prepared for a night under the stars we pitched out tent as close to the cliff as we dared and waited for the sun to set.

We had a long time to wait...

I was actually quite excited about this. UK does no have a whole lot of sky that is not inundated with light pollution at night due to the extremely high population density and often it is clouded over any way. I thought Gemma would be able to see something she had not seen before, especially as we had hit a spot of luck in that there was not a cloud in sight, She could witness a night sky lit by nothing but the trillions of stars and the full moon...

Whiskey and cider!

...Yeah, whoops. I forgot that the moon would drown out aaaaaaaaaaaaaall the stars. But, thats okay, as I continued to swoon her be flourshing the giant easter egg I had smuggled to the Island without her knowledge aaaaaand by bringing out our slippers which I had also smuggled over without her knowledge.

This is still our favourite photo.

Beaut. I. Ful Give that man a New. Actually, no, give him a good beer.

Beer was hard to find, so I had to find another vista.

Now, Sark is not all darkness and horse drawn carriages. There is also ample opportunity for cliff jumping if you were so inclined (we are not).

Horse drawn carriages leave horse drawn mess. I am very disappointed that the owner didn't pick up the poo with a horsey bag and throw it in the red dog poo bin in the background like the sign requests.

We followed a narrow isthmus to little Sark, a peninsula, on the south of the island. Here we actually found a tea house that was open for lunch on Easter Sunday. One of the ladies on the table behind seemed like she was being a little demanding (read: bossy to the point of being abusive) of the staff. It took us a while to realise she was the owner and just having fun hosting most of the inhabitants of the island.

Waving from the isthmus (i just...just love that word. I need to find more ways to drop casually into conversation).

We also managed to find our way to the awesomely named Venus Pools and the Window in the Rock. The latter has become less exciting to me since I found out it was man-made and not natural. 

Gemma sneaks through the hole in the wall.

Once the sun rose on Easter Monday we packed our bags and trudged back to the ferry, gearing up for the next destination on our Island adventure.

Heading to...(be continued)