Squirrels, Alum Bay and the Needles, and home again

I was up at 7.30, and again went downstairs for breakfast. At my usual table, I was served another delicious breakfast, and chatted with Linda and Stephen, and the couple at the next table. My plan today was to visit the squirrel hide that Stephen had told me about the previous day, then go out to Alum Bay/The Needles, and then bus to Ryde and walk back to Lake. Ambitious? Yes.

I packed up and left my luggage in the kitchen at Haytor Lodge, and headed in the direction that Linda and Stephen had advised - a bit to the east, and then north towards the interior. I walked for some time, until I got to a golf course. A man asked me if I needed directions before I even asked (I must have looked lost). He pointed me the right way, and I continued on. I got to a gate, and went through it into an area that was a designated nature reserve. Aha. I was getting close. The man had told me to go straight on through the gate, but I was confused, because there was another gate after a narrow section of land, which would take me back out of the nature reserve and right through some woods immediately afterwards. To add to that, I had to jump a reasonably large stream to get past. I had nowhere else to go, so I jumped the stream (getting a wet foot), went through the gate at the far side, and turned right. I kept on for a while, and then another path joined the one I was on, and a man was joining the path just as I was going past, and he started talking to me. He was going to the squirrel hide as well, and so we walked together. I'm not sure I would have found it without him.

The hide was off to the right of the path, a well-set-up little area with a path, a bridge, and a wooden shed as the hide. There was no one else there when we arrived. We put our bags inside the shed, and set up our cameras. His was a Sony thing with a big fat lens. We waited. A woman came along, putting out bits of apple and fruit. My friend had put out hazelnuts and other nuts, because he knew that was their favourite. The woman had a phone camera. We were talking, when suddenly she pointed out that a squirrel was approaching on the ground. It was miraculous. A tiny, sweet little thing; nervous, but determined. The man said she was a female that he'd seen before. I took some photos, feeling grateful that I'd actually managed to see one.

The woman went away, and after a while, more squirrels came. There was one that was much darker in colour, and one that was quite mixed. They came close: on the roof of the shed, on the window sill, on the railing outside, and even inside the shed on the shelf. They were all very sweet, very trusting little things. I got lots of photos and enjoyed the experience immensely - I'm so glad I stayed longer than I intended to.

Time had got away, however, and it was after 11 by now. I walked back to the main road in Lake, via the cycle path this time to avoid the stream, and got the next bus to Newport. At Newport, I changed to the number 7 and headed west to Alum Bay and the Needles. The buses are all modern and near new, but the roads are horrendous. I felt anxious trying to fit down all those narrow roads, and jarred by all the potholes. Upon arrival, I set off the walk down the steps to Alum Bay. The path was closed. The chair lift was closed. So I walked to a viewing platform to look at the Needles. It wasn't very close, though I got some reasonable photos with the zoom lens. There were a lot of rides and novelty shops, most of which were closed. There was a sweet shop I intended to go into, but I decided I had to get the next bus back in order to make the rest of the day work.

I could see people walking along a path out to the end of the point, so I decided to try and get as far as I could before having to turn back. The weather had turned a bit nasty by now, but I walked quickly uphill and on to the path. Before long, I had a good view of the cliff above Alum Bay, and the wonderful colours in the rock. I had a view of the needles that was no better. There were some boats, and then a flotilla of jetskis came around the point. Then it was time for me to go back to the bus. I'll have to go back to experience it properly, preferably with Christian.

I got back on the bus, and endured the bumpy ride back to Newport, eating the various bits of food I'd managed to gather over the two days. In Newport, I realised that I would need to go straight back to Lake to get my stuff and that a walk was out of the question. So I did. It started raining on that bus. At Lake, I collected my stuff from Linda and Stephen, and thanked them again for a lovely stay. I had just enough time to see one town, and I asked whether it would be most sensible to make that town Sandown or Ryde. They told me that Sandown wasn't worth seeing, so Ryde it was.

I set off for the station, and got on the next train. I got a little confused about where to go, as sense dictated that I'd need to get on on a different side to that I'd got off. Then I realised that there's only a single track. So I stood where I'd got off, and worked out that it was a funicular-style thing, with passing places. I made the journey to Ryde Esplanade station, and went to have an explore. It didn't seem very inspiring. It was just the sea front with a lot of closed shops. I went into a shop to try and find a present for Christian, and the best I could find was some generic seaside sweets. The woman in the shop recommended a pub for a quick meal, but I opted for the much more exciting Italian deli across the road. The woman in there was lovely, and I opted for a mini-pizza, which looked delicious. I vowed to go back to that shop, as it was impressive. I didn't fancy exploring any more as it was cold and dark, though I did have a quick walk to the east of the pier. Fairly uninteresting, and mostly deserted.

I went back to the Esplanade station and ate the tasty pizza, and realised I had loads of time, and that I could walk out to the pier rather than wait for the train in the cold wind. The walk wasn't particularly pleasant, but it gave me a feel for why there's a pier, and why the hovercraft leaves from the shore proper. It's a marsh. Not sure if the tide ever comes in to cover it, but you'd never get a boat in to shore. Interesting. At the pier terminal, there was still a bit of a wait, and I discovered too late that the queue began in Costa. Stupid system. I got on the boat, but still got the seat I wanted near the front, and we set off back to the mainland. The captain said that being low tide, he'd have to take a longer way in, but it didn't add much at all. I was again spellbound by the port tower and it's lovely blueness. We disembarked, and I tried to get a photo of the tower. I managed it through a gap in a gate, but it's not wonderful.

I got some food and drink from Costa (yes, they clearly have the monopoly), and went to board my train. I realised that the train I'd chosen was an incredibly slow one, and that it got to Waterloo much later than a train that left after it. So I boarded the later train, realising that I would be home well before Christian as a result, and settled in for the journey. It wasn't the most comfortable or enjoyable of journeys, much like the way down, and I couldn't concentrate on my audio book (not sure why). It seemed to take ages. But eventually we got back, and I got the tube to Marylebone, and then to Wycombe. There were no buses scheduled at all, and so I got a taxi home, arriving at about 9.30.

Walking from Lake to Niton

I had the alarm set for 7.30, but was awake before that. I had a shower and went downstairs for breakfast. I met Linda, and she sat me down at a lovely table next to the window. The back garden led directly to the Cliff Path. Stephen cooked a great breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, and black pudding, which set me up very well for the day.

I packed my bag and headed out via the back garden gate to the Cliff Path, and set off walking west. Like much of the coastal walking I've done, the route had plenty of variety. It began along a boardwalk, through Shanklin, then up above the cliff through Luccombe, then through woods, where I could see evidence of the big storm that had been through, and back down to the board walk to Ventnor, up on grassy hills, then took a wrong turn in the direction I wanted to go in, rather than investigated where the path actually went. The detour took me through farm land, and was quite nice, but quite a long way. I got myself right, and headed up another cliff and then followed fields for a few miles, coming back to sea level by taking a cool tunnel. By now it was getting late - my detour had taken quite some time. The walk in total was 11.8 miles.

I turned away from the sea, and headed up into Niton. Only to discover that the buses apparently run only every two hours. I dispiritedly got some food from the supermarket (it's a small village) and asked the woman there how I would best get a taxi. She gave me a number, but said that I would be better off asking people in the shop whether anyone was going to Newport and could I have a lift. I didn't fancy throwing myself at people's kindness, and so went out to eat, and to call the taxi. Luckily, I looked at the bus timetable in my bag, and realised that buses went more frequently from another stop. Which I couldn't find. I asked in another shop, and was pointed in the right direction, and found myself on a bus heading for Newport.

It was on this journey that I realised that the island is much bigger than I thought. The narrow road wound around and up and down. I did some research and realised that I would never make it out to Alum Bay and the Needles before it got dark. So I changed my plan, and decided to explore Newport and go north to Cowes instead. Newport was fairly uninteresting. A big town with a lot of high street shops. There were some more interesting ones, but I spent about 15 minutes walking around, and then headed back the bus station, but not before buying some plasters for my feet.

I boarded the bus for Cowes, and took the fast, major road through the gathering darkness. I'd bought a 24 hour ticket, so could ride buses as many times as I wanted. I got off at the ferry port, and had a wander. Central Cowes is made up of hilly, pedestrianised, cobbled streets, completely different to Newport. Almost all the shops have a nautical bent, and there's hardly a high street shop in sight. It was dark, but I could still tell that it was very nice. I ducked through a side-street arch to see the harbour, and walked around to the north face to look back on mainland UK. It was fairly bleak under those conditions, but again, I could tell that the story would be entirely different in summer.

I headed back to the bus stop, boarded a conveniently departing bus, and headed back to Newport. I didn't have long to wait for a bus back to the south coast, getting off in the main street of Lake, and walking back to the B&B. After strapping up my painful feet, and having a little rest in front of the TV, I went back out to get fish and chips from the shop I'd noticed in Lake. They wouldn't let me sit in the shop, and I couldn't eat it in Haytor Lodge, so I stood near the station wolfing it down as quickly as I could. It really wasn't very nice.

Back at Haytor Lodge, I relaxed in front of the TV, and had an early night.

Wycombe to the Isle of Wight

I left home at about 4pm, and made my way to Wycombe station, buying a combined train and ferry return ticket to Lake for about £107. Into Marylebone, tube to Waterloo, then train to Portsmouth Harbour. At Portsmouth, I had half an hour to wait for the next ferry, which was actually the fast catamaran service. We boarded, and the journey was quick and easy (18 minutes, I think?) on the Ryde pier, the transfer to the train was right there, and very convenient. The 'train' was a wonderful old Northern Line tube train from 1938 stock. It had been updated over the years, obviously, but was clearly a very old thing. Every time people got off, one of the doors got stuck and had to be persuaded on its way by the conductor.

The train went through a tunnel, and continued through the dark. I got off the train at Lake, and walked in the direction that I thought I needed to go. It was pretty dark, but I had it sorted. As the people who'd got off the train peeled off in various directions, I was aware of someone coming towards me. It was Stephen from Haytor Lodge, with a torch, to see me safely to my destination. Very kind.

We walked to Haytor Lodge, with him explaining about the trains, and went up to my room. Linda was busy as we came through the house. In my room, Stephen showed me everything, and left me to it, offering me a cup of tea downstairs. I was impressed at the level of detail they achieved in the room. There was everything I needed, including a bottle of water for walking. The room was lovely, and the bathroom a bit pokey, but perfectly comfortable, and warm. I made myself a cup of tea upstairs as I was a bit tired, and settled down to read for a while. It felt good to relax after the journey. I went to sleep not long after 10pm, with Christian still on his way to Newcastle.

Barcelona: Exploring on our own

We got up around 8 and went back for round two of breakfast. I had a similar selection, though added some chocolate cake to it, because I just had to try it. I was sorry to not have a third chance. There were no Rackers in evidence.

After packing up, and leaving our luggage with the concierge for the day, we headed out, taking a couple of photos outside the hotel, and then walking north to La Sagrada Familia. My imagination hadn't been wonderfully captured by the idea, but actually seeing it close up was much more impressive than I thought it would be. The sheer bulk of it, and the exquisite detail on the face were amazing. Unfortunately, the queue was horrendous, so we walked around the outside, but regretfully gave up on going inside.

We went into the nearby metro and took it south all the way to Parallel, and then took the linked funicular up part of the mountain to the bottom of Montjuic, an old military fortress begun in 1640, but demolished and rebuilt in 1751. We then took the cablecar to the top of Montjuic. The view of the whole city was brilliant - Christian took a video. At the top, we wandered around a little, taking in the view, and then went up onto the castle battlements. There wasn't a lot to see, apart from a memorial to a French astronomer, and a very large flag. We went below and sat to eat lunch. I bought it from the cafe, which was a little strange. I had lasagne, and Christian had chicken and chips.

We'd decided to walk back down the mountain, and so took our time, stopping for photos at fountains, and having a wander through some gardens. We got the funicular back to the metro, and then a metro diagonally across most of the city to Lesseps, from where we walked a fair way, mostly uphill, to find Parc Güell, the huge garden designed by Gaudi. We went to buy tickets, and discovered that they had timed entries, and that if we waited for the next opportunity, we would probably miss our coach pick up from the hotel. This was quite disappointing, after our Sagrada Familia experience, but it couldn't be helped.

We explored the vastness of the free section of the park, which was quite dry and dusty, but with some interesting design elements. There was a good view of the city. Near the top, we went out of the park for an ice cream, then realised we had to go back inside in order to get back down. We went a different way, seeing an interesting green parrot on the way. We exited the park via the main entrance, which we had failed to find on the way up, and saw much of the sculpture inside the the park that we would have to have paid for anyway, including the ornate front gates. It was interesting, but nothing amazing.

We made our way back down, stopping in a shop to buy some nice mosaic Christmas presents, taking the metro back to Passeig de Gracia, which was a fairly short walk back to the hotel. Inside, we found a few people in the lounge area, and soon after Steve and Kathrine arrived. Steve insisted on buying us all a drink, and the staff brought us some snacks to have with them. Kathrine and I had bubbly, and the boys had gin. We swapped stories of our day. It was a very civilised way to pass half an hour.

The other rackers gradually materialised, and we collected our luggage and went out to the coach for the last time. We drove back through the city to the airport, disembarked, and went to check in. We managed this with minimum fuss, and went through security to the shops and restaurants beyond. Christian and I had a wander to where our gate was going to be, and found the area devoid of any people, or anything interesting, and so went back to the central area, met up with Steve and Kathrine again, and sat in a cafe to get some food and drinks. The food selection was quite poor, but I got Christian a chicken pasta dish, and I had a baguette.

It was eventually time to go to the gate, and we weren't there long before they changed the gate on us, and the queue formed. We waited for the queue to dissipate, and then got on the plane. For some reason, I was feeling a bit anxious before even getting on the plane, and after a significant delay, we were finally on our way. There was a reasonable amount of turbulence, and so I continued to feel uneasy. We landed at Gatwick OK, though, got off the plane, and everyone went their separate ways.

Christian called the valet parking people, and we waited a ridiculous length of time for them to bring the car. It was frosty, and they said they had to defrost it, but they could have started the process before we called, knowing when our flight was due to arrive. Anyway, it was highly tedious, and Christian was rightly moved to complain about it. Finally on the road, we made a quick stop in Horsham to collect the laptop that Christian had managed to leave at Heather's, then heading north again, discovered that the house keys and some other bits were missing off his keyring. He called the parking people, who said that they often take off extraneous bits and leave them in the glove box. We couldn't find them while driving, so decided to chase it the next day and kept driving. It was enough to spoil the evening, though.

We got home near midnight (I think), and found the lost keys lurking down the side of the driver's seat. Helpful, that. We dragged our gear upstairs and fell into bed. There were a good few things that we didn't manage to see in Barcelona, and so intend to go back at some point. But it was a fantastic, and well organised trip (bravo, Emma!).

Barcelona: Treasure hunt, alternative transport, lunch, shopping, paella

We dragged ourselves out of bed at about 9.30, got ready for the day, and went down for breakfast. It took a while to find breakfast, winding through the succession of lavish rooms downstairs, but we eventually stepped out into the grandest, most beautiful breakfast area, under a huge marquee. In awe, we took our table under a (n unnecessary) heater, and went to explore the mountains of tasty food that was there for the taking. I started with cereal, then had a fried plate with toast, eggs, sausages, bacon, and then a plate of yoghurt and fruit. I really wanted to be able to try the cheeses and meats, the waffles and fruit compote, the cake, the Chinese breakfast, and the many other things that were set out. Most amazing breakfast ever.

We met the other Rackers in the foyer, and waited for everyone, some who hadn't had much sleep at all. There was a funny little man dressed like a Jew milling around. We were divided into groups, and given a bag, instructions, and a booklet to write our answers. Our group was me, Christian, Steve, and Kathrine. We set off as per the directions to find a fountain.We went past lots of fountains, but had difficulty finding the right one. In fact, we had difficulty finding the right street (La Rambla). Eventually, by asking people, we found the required fountain, which was in fact a drinking fountain in the middle of the shopping street. Apparently if you drink from it, you love Barcelona forever. We didn't. We wrote down the quote that was carved around it. We went on to do a number of other challenges, involving assembling the ingredients in the amazing food market to make Crema Catalana, counting palm trees, making bruschetta wearing boxing gloves, listing museums, looking for the names of city mayors and Roman emperors, etc. We were meeting for lunch, and so were getting short on time, though not even halfway through the booklet. We gave up, and got a cycle rickshaw thingo up to the restaurant. It was fun, though slightly scary when sharing the road with the traffic.

We took our seats in the nice restaurant with many floors, and had beers, and many courses of tapas served. Again, it was nowhere near as good as the place in Malta, but it was very pleasant. From there, we went our separate ways. Christian and I went back down La Rambla, having a look at the markets again, and buying ham and chocolate, having a look at the theatre with a view to a tour (the timings were wrong), and buying a few gifts. We ended up back down at the harbour, but further south than we'd been the night before. We had a wander, took some photos, and waited for the pedestrian bridge to let us further into the harbour complex. As we were waiting, I suddenly got very tired again, and we decided to walk back, looking for food places on the way. Back at the hotel, we asked the concierge where might be good for dinner that serves paella. He directed us to a restaurant called Farga.

After resting for a while at the hotel, we went back out for dinner. Farga was very smart, and the service was snappy. We had some very tasty sangria, and the paella was absolutely delicious, and very voluminous and not too expensive. We meandered back to the hotel, and turned in for the night, quite early.

Stupidly early flight to Barcelona

OK, so I believe in making the most of a holiday, but I'd picked up Christian from Heathrow at around 11 the previous night, and we'd driven to Horsham, getting to bed at 12.30. So the alarm at 4am was most unwelcome.

But get up we did, packed up very quickly, and got on the road to Gatwick. We arranged for the valet parking, did the compulsory two takes at finding the right place to leave the car, and waited for someone to arrive. Someone told us that we needed to go up the end, and so we did, finding the right person. That person proceeded to take many photos from many angles, apparently to prove that there was no damage prior to drop-off that could later be blamed on them. Anyway, it was a faff, and it was cold. We finally got inside, and went straight to the check-in counter, where we met Georgia. We checked in with no problems, and went straight through security. We were a little early at this stage.

We went to the same place for breakfast that we'd been on the way to Malta, and ordered some tasty food. Just before it arrived, I asked how much time we actually had to eat. After a slight panic, the food arrived quickly, and we inhaled it as best we could (I left a second cup of tea in the pot :-() and we made our way to the gate as the messages were saying that the flight was boarding. It wasn't of course, which made me mad, but we met up with the other Rackers, and particularly the lovely Steve and Kathrine. There were a few people I knew from Malta, but a lot of new faces, which was nice.

We boarded the Monarch flight, and I noted how little leg room there was. My knees were brushing the seat in front - I could only imagine how it was for tall people, though Christian didn't seem to mind. We had a small panic about where Christian's jacket was, but I remembered that he'd had it on when boarding, and hoped it was in the overhead locker (it was). The flight was comfortable enough, though I wasn't terribly impressed with Monarch - yes, they're a budget airline, but it all seemed slightly dodgy. I discovered that there was something stuck in my iPod's headphone jack, and so listened to music that was slightly skewed to the right. Christian pointed out snow-covered alps as we went over them. I ended up going to sleep near the end, as I didn't remember hearing about half of the album I was listening to. It was only an hour-and-a-half flight.

We landed in Barcelona without fuss, disembarked, and flashed our passports. The airport was big, shiny, and quite tropical looking. The Rackers all congregated just near the doors, while we were counted, and moved out to the coach. Again, it was a huge coach for not many people, but welcome all the same. It became clear that we actually had a tour guide this time (Beatrice?), and she arranged handing out of bottles of water, and gave us a spiel as we drove through the city. There was interesting architecture, notably an awesome red swirly building that I'd seen from the air. In the centre of the city, the architecture was graceful and Venetian in style. Everything was clean and well-maintained.

We went the long way around the block to get to the hotel, and our luggage was removed from the coach and taken up to our rooms for us. We, meanwhile, we taken to a dedicated Rackspace check-in desk, where we were given our room keys on big red tassles. The foyer and bar and function rooms downstairs were lavishly decorated. Unsurprising given the El Palace hotel used to be the Ritz. We were then taken to a room and fed canapes and bubbly. Amazing. Christian and I spent time with Steve and Kathrine.

We tore ourselves away, and went upstairs - it wasn't even lunch time at this stage. The room was huge, and lovely, with a chandelier, a balcony onto the street, a bed made up of two of the biggest single beds I'd ever seen, a TV pretending to be a mirror, and a bathroom with huge shower (with rainforest nozzle), bath, and his-and-hers basins. As we were exhausted, we had two or three hours sleep, which obviously wasn't enough, or even very satisfying. We made ourselves go out to see a bit of the city. We only had a vague plan, which involved food, and so decided to move in the direction of the harbour. We saw what there was to see, including an ATM with the numbers the wrong way around, and found ourselves on a harbour boardwalk, and decided to get some tapas (it was about 5pm by now). We also took some pretty awesome photos of the sunset.

We headed back in the growing darkness, and went up to get ready for our dinner out. We met the Rackers downstairs, and someone was buying drinks. I had a vodka, and Christian had a gin. I finished the vodka, but Christian really didn't finish the gin. We trooped back out to the coach and made our way through the city to the restaurant, El Principal. It had a lovely open courtyard, where we had drinks and nibbles, before moving inside to the dining room. We were on circular tables, and we had Steve, Kathrine, and Arrian on our table. It was a tasty dinner, and lots of fun, but wasn't a patch on the tapas meal in Malta. The speeches were much more concise, which was a small mercy. I was ready for bed at this point.

We filed back out to the coach, and headed to the beach, to the Opium club, after doing a circuit of the block looking for somewhere to stop among the hordes of people and taxis. We had our own section outdoors, but were surrounded by hundreds of punters. It was fairly laid back, though, and we had the makings of many cocktails involving vodka - quite a good arrangement, really, though the vodka seemed to disappear very quickly. This woke me up temporarily. I spoke to Paul, and Christian did the rounds, chatting and taking photos. We decided to go back to the hotel in a taxi, with Steve and Kathrine, at about 1am. By the time we got back to the room, I was so tired that I was randomly in tears. Much sleep was needed, and had.