Photos

I have included a few photos in this blog, however 660ish photos of the trip can be found in my album here: http://ajmr.smugmug.com/UK/n-bpLgDT/

Home

My trip concluded on the 18th October. Home sweet home!

Back to reality, but with memories to last a life time.

Thanks for reading :)

The apple tree in my backyard was bare when I left!

Coming to a close.

It is my last night in the UK. Mixed feelings! One part of me is looking forward to going home, conscious of an amount of travel fatigue - a lessening of wonder at new sights and cities. Another part wishes the tip wouldn't end, that it could continue perhaps indefinitely.

All parts of me are dreading the impending flights. Three flights, of between 22 and 23 hours in total, five hours kicking around in transit airports, I arrive back into Melbourne at early on Saturday morning.

I'm back in London for the last night, so as to be close to Heathrow for tomorrow. The flight departs at 17:50, so no early morning rush. Allowing for transport delays and other works of Murphy, I'll be at the airport with plenty of time to then regret my cautiousness.

This is now my fourth stay in London for the trip, and tonight I am staying in the Ruskin Hotel in Russell Square. Funnily enough it's one street behind the Penn Club where I stayed on first arrival into London.

A trip itinerary can now be listed, perhaps of little use at the end of the trip, but something I couldn't do before now. Despite initially looking at an arranged tour when planning this trip, happenstance pushed me into a completely unplanned adventure. For those who know me well, spontaneity is not really my thing. (Understatement is, however). When I left Melbourne, I had only the first three nights planned. Everything else was to be decided. This has had its ups and downs, though more up than down. I think I've only really made one planning mistake, and I'll just have to rectify that on the next trip.

The trip, completed:
3 nights London
1 night Leeds
1 night Edinburgh
3 nights Inverness
2 nights Glasgow
3 nights Bowness on Windermere
1 night London
3 nights Amsterdam
1 night London
2 nights Great Yarmouth
1 night Liverpool
1 night London

I have travelled by train, plane, car, bus, small boat and huge! Having some time in London today was great, I seem to enjoy it more each time I come back (with the exception of the third visit, which was very much arrive-sleep-leave) and today was to visit the London Eye, something I'd been wanting to do, but hadn't managed yet. I booked a ticket for the Eye online, you save about 3 pound on the walk up price, and dithered for a few seconds over paying the extra for the 'fast track' pricing. Fast track means you avoid the long lines, and go straight to the front of the queue. The cynic in me wondered if it just meant you went straight to the front of a slightly shorter queue. The price difference was 6 pounds, so $12 aus, and I figured it was probably worth it, hanging around in a queue on my last day didn't seem like the best way to spend my time.

Some more travel on the London Underground, first to Leicester Square on the Picadilly line, then a change to the Northern Line for a train to Waterloo. Leaving Waterloo (I seem to pop out a different exit every time I visit) you can catch glimpses of the London Eye between the buildings as you walk towards the South Bank of the river. However you don't really get a grip on the size of the thing until you're very close. And it is very large! It is also only 'mounted' on one side, with giant cables holding it in place. However I had more confidence in jumping on this than I would say our own Melbourne Star, this one has not been sent back for a warranty repair.

The fast track ticket allows you to skip the line for ticket collection, so I had my ticket in no time, and though I'd booked for the 16:30 slot, they are not fussy about that, and you can use your ticket whenever. So I wandered over... the normal ticket line was not horrendous (certainly not Game of Thrones exhibit nasty) but it still weaved back and forth a few times, and wasn't moving particularly fast. Yay for the fast track ticket I thought, as I took the speedy entrance to the left. There was no queue at all in the fast track line, and I walked straight through up to the security checkpoint. Here they examine your bags, and run a metal detector over you and your bag... nothing nefarious discovered on me or my bag, again it was a case of bypassing another queue, right up to the boarding platform, where I stood behind two other fast trackers.

We were then, the three of us, waved into a capsule, emptying the fast track line, and I assumed that they would then open the normal line and fill up the capsule, but no, they shut the door on the three of us, and off we went. Slowly. The couple and I looked at each other somewhat incredulous, the capsule in front of us was quite full, the one after us also filled up, but we had this one to ourselves! This certainly made the fast track ticket worth every penny! Chatting, as you do, with random strangers when thrust together on such tourist attractions, it turned out they were from Melbourne, Templestowe in particular. Small world! Having the capsule to ourselves made for excellent photo opportunities, and I was pleased I had space on the iphone to snap away, though this was another of those times I wish I had my Pentax!

The Eye goes surprisingly high. There is a building next to it that looks pretty high from ground level, but on the Eye you go past the top of it, and keep climbing. The views are spectacular. It was a grey day, but visibility was fine. I saw Battersea power station for the first time, off in the distance behind Westminster Palace. I could see St. Paul's, could see the statue of Nelson in Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, a good long stretch of the Thames, and Cleopatra's Needle on its banks. Well worth going on, and worth every penny for the fast track ticket, for those who might visit London in the future!

Yesterday, I did some rather slow travel by train. Waking in Great Yarmouth, with my stay there at an end (not altogether disappointed to leave), I had no firm plans. I thought I might try for Oxford again (alas, not to be), but decided to give into a whimsical plan to visit Widnes, that station at which Paul Simon wrote the song Homeward Bound in 1964 (or 1965, accounts vary). The story goes that Simon was touring the folk clubs of England (on a tour of one night stands) and had been in the Liverpool area, and aiming for Hull, when he spent some time in Widnes waiting for an early morning train. The likelihood is that the whole song wasn't written there, however it certainly has its origins in a lonely wait in a fairly drab place. Possibly if the trains ran as frequently as they do now, the song might never have taken shape!

However, to achieve this plan of whimsy, I was starting from a location quite some way away, and it took five hours on a slow two-car train, that didn't have a kiosk. If I'd been suitably prepared, I could have equipped with picnic supplies. The train by East Midlands, is an hourly service from Norwich to Liverpool, though it looked like I was in the distinct minority in taking it the whole way. People got on and got off at various junction stations along the way, even the crew changed, I think twice. I can see why. 5 hours on a train not really designed for long distance wasn't hugely fun. I may have been more comfortable, if not quicker, returning to London on the East Coast line, and coming back up on the West Coast. No doubt the app would have suggested that if I'd said I was going to Liverpool, but in fact I picked some tiny station in the middle of nowhere called Widnes, and this train did happen to run direct from Norwich to Widnes. However it changed direction three times as it pulled into stations where the driver had to change ends to drive out again. This was not a high speed express by any stretch of the imagination.

I arrived in Widnes, took in all the sights, sounds, and beauty of the station area (did not take long) and then rather happily boarded the next train to Liverpool. There was meant to be a plaque at Widnes commemorating the fact that Simon wrote the song here, but I couldn't find it. The lady in the station shop gave me a very puzzled look when I asked, thought I was rather daft I dare say, and had no information on the subject. So I took some photos anyway, and moved on.

Liverpool was a surprise. I decided to stay there as after five hours on a train, and having travelled from the east coast to the west, I was not keen on facing another three hours of train travel to get to Oxford. I don't know why but I had pictured Liverpool as rather dull, not something worth travelling to. Perhaps because of vague understandings of its industrial history, and as a dock. So it was quite surprising to discover a bustling city with architecture as awesome as London's, a large pedestrian plaza inviting a walk from the centre down to the side of the Mersey river, with a range of buskers from accordion to bagpipes! The architecture along the river bank was a mix of old and new, and I was sad to have missed the opening hours of the Liverpool museum, set in a shiny new building next to the ornate Port of Liverpool building. I did a very long walk from my hotel down through the city centre to the river, then back up through the city, through St James garden, at the foot of a huge building flanked with columns on all sides (I have no idea what that building was, should really check it on google), the gardens were manicured, and filled with statues and memorials, but sadly the light was fading making it hard to read their inscriptions.

Declining the offer of weed from a local youf in a hoodie, I was making my way back towards the Lime St station. Disconcertingly, said youf was following, walking along side, and appeared to be followed by some friendly other youfs on bikes. Deciding on a direction change, I crossed the road and was relieved they did not do likewise. This was one of two times on this trip where I've felt somewhat discombobulated, and worried about the potential outcome of the situation.

The first was in Amsterdam, when a melee or fight broke out while I was on the tram heading out of the city towards Slotermeer. Slotermeer is known as a 'Turkish quarter' and there's a cultural shift in inhabitants from the central city. On the plus side, this meant awesome middle eastern food during my stay, on the downside, there appeared to be some sort of clash happening as I rode the tram back to Slotermeer one afternoon. I first noticed something was up when I saw someone running, then another, then many. An altercation broke out on the roadside, which spread to the tram, and there were people running towards the fracas from many directions. With people running towards and onto the tram, there was a lot of shouting and shoving. Not being able to understand what was being said or what it was about made it more disturbing, however after watching it for minute or so, the tram driver closed the doors, splitting the group, and drove on.

A postscript to Amsterdam is I'm now looking the wrong way when crossing the roads in London. It is quite surprising I haven't ended my trip as the ornament on the front of a black cab.

Great Yarmouth there isn't much worth writing about. As described, it's a seaside holiday town with the life slowing oozing out of it in the shoulder season. I'm not sure I'd like the place even in the height of Summer, and it wasn't anything to write songs about in the rain soaked time I spent in the town. The one good thing was an excellent English pub, where I had some excellent food and made significant headway through my book. I have now finished Game of Thrones, and hoping I can buy the second volume in an airport bookshop tomorrow. I may need to abandon this copy if my luggage is over the limit, but as a paperback it has had a short but hard life, copping a soaking in a wet backpack.

I’m sittin in the railway station
Got a ticket for my destination
On a tour of one-night stands
My suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned
For a poet and a one-man band

I am actually at the station where Paul Simon wrote the song Homeward Bound in 1964!!

A seaside town in the off season is pretty grim. The pier with its amusement arcades appears decrepit, avaricious. Desolate, deserted, the wind blows and bored attendants smoke, killing time.3

The power is still on, shutters open, it's not quite the winter shutdown yet. But the gaudy plastic sits idle, bright colours made pale by the absence of a crowd, by grey skies and persistent drizzle.

The cafés and ice cream stalls are gone, windows closed and empty tables home only to crying gulls. People walk by, hunched, cold, shrouded in raincoats and apathy. Not lingering, not seeing, just passing by.

The ghost of summer lingers, not dead, but dying.

Amsterdam to London, via Hoek van Holland and Harwich.

After a pleasant stay at the blue square hotel in Slotermeer, Amsterdam, it was time to head back to the UK. I had been pondering different options to cross back over the North Sea, mainly between taking the Eurostar train from Brussels through the channel tunnel, or taking a ferry back across. Flying wasn't really an option, as despite the budget fare advertisements you see everywhere, the short notice booking is always insanely expensive. Add to that the impending 26 hour plane journey that is coming up all too quickly, I was happy to stay on the ground. Well, under the ground or across the water in effect!

Checking the prices on Thursday, the ferry was approx €60, compared to £108 for the Thalys and Eurostar service from Amsterdam to Brussels to London St Pancras. Had I a firm wish to take the train, I should have booked it there and then, as when I looked the next day, the "cheap" fare had disappeared, and the cheapest option was £222 pounds! So the ferry it was! Having done a night sailing on the way over, I was keen to do a day sailing in return, and the gods of timetables granted my wish. The Saturday sailing departed Holland at 2:30pm, a very civilised time indeed!

This gave plenty of time on Saturday morning to pack, check out of the hotel mosey into town on a tram (purchased a one hour tram ticket from the conductor in the tram for €2.80. The conductors have little booths towards the rear of the tram, which don't take up a lot of space, and seems like a very sensible idea!) to arrive at Amsterdam Central station. The automated ticket machine didn't like my Visa card, though in hindsight I may have been missing the Dutch message to 'enter your pin'. Ticket acquired from the ticket office, I was shortly on one of the Dutch intercity double decker trains. Sadly these trains are not as well equipped for long journeys as those in England, and have neither luggage space nor toilets. I ended up having to block one seat with my big heavy bag, which was unfortunate given the train turned out to be quite busy, as it was an Amsterdam to Rotterdam service via Schiphol airport. Changing at Schiedam for a local train, known as a sprinter but very unlike ours, it was another twenty minutes to the 'haven', the local name for the ferry terminal.

Much better timing this departure, I was able to check in and board the ferry straight away. Acquired another stamp in the passport too! The security officer on the passport desk was far grumpier than his counterpart on my entry into the Netherlands, but there wasn't much he could grump about as I was on my way out. On a day sailing, you can book just a ticket, for €40, and sit in the common areas of the ferry for the six hour crossing, however the cabins are available at 50% of their nightly cost (on a night sailing a cabin booking is compulsory) so I was able to book an outside single cabin for €20. This was worth every cent, as it gave somewhere private and secure to store your luggage, a bed to have a nap on, a shower if so desired, and powerpoints for charging of technological devices. Although I spent quite a bit of time in the lounge area (only spot you could look forward from) and on the outside decks, it was great having a nap and your baggage locked away.

The day sailing was epic, although again I was cursed with good weather and flat seas. I seem to luck out with good weather any time I do take a ferry, which is disappointing as I quite like a heavy swell, with some decent pitching and rolling motion! There's a quote I can't remember the origin of, however it goes along the lines of 'when the gods want to punish us, they give us exactly what we ask for', so perhaps I'm better off without the stormy seas, hard to say.

The good weather did mean some enjoyable scenery as we sailed across the North Sea, and an interesting change in colour of water from the brackish brown of Hoek van Holland, that extended a long way out before gradually changing to a lightish green. There were a lot of ships about in the North Sea, at one point I could see five silhouetted against the horizon to the south. We slowly passed to the north one of the wind farms, a vast forest of wind turbines growing from the waves, in apparently quite deep water. An interesting engineering spectacle. The iPhone takes a very nice photo when pointed directly into the sun, something my point and shoot canon certainly doesn't, however the wide angle and lack of zoom makes it impossible to catch some of the distant sights that could be seen as we sailed across. Not for the first time I found myself wishing I had brought my Pentax dslr, however overall am glad I haven't had the weight of it for the few times it would have been perfect.

The ferry takes both euros and pounds, so was an excellent time to spend the remaining euros I had left, rather than end up with a useless collection when back in the UK. the shop on board however wasn't all that spectacular, with some crummy souvenirs, and a small range of duty free products that weren't inspiring. I'd have quite liked to buy a model of the ferry we were sailing on, but the only one they had was appallingly rubbish.

I could happily have spent all day on the ferry, was quite happy reading my boom and watching the world drift past, but alas a six hour crossing is over too soon. Back into the land of sandwiches and mobile internet! Using my mobile internet (my relief at having it again is perhaps somewhat cause for concern) I was able to tell that the inviting train idling in the platform next to the ferry terminal was not the best option to get back to London, despite being a through service with no changes. Using the national rail app, I found an earlier train departing for a different platform, which ran back to the junction station at Manningtree, from which I could get an earlier London service coming from Norwich, the advantage being the Norwich-London service was a bigger, long distance train with comfiest seats and a kiosk. The kiosk was all important as I bought (yet another) sandwich for a late dinner as I headed back down to London.

The land of sandwiches is not an exaggeration. Sandwiches seem to be ubiquitous here. There are bakery chains like we have fast food restaurants, with promises of freshness, "we never sell you yesterday's sandwiches" "made in store today, sold today", there are multiple chains that compete against each other, the result being you have great choice of sandwiches, and at very reasonable pricing. Buying a packaged sandwich in Australia is a bit of a hit and miss affair. Say from a service station, you would pay $6-7 for something that may have sat there for a couple of days, with a use by of another couple of days and where the bread and fillings would be mediocre at best. In the UK bakery chains you can reliably expect a basic fresh sandwich for £1.50-2.00, or a fancy one from £2.50-3.00. This penchant for sandwiches extends beyond the bakeries too, every single supermarket I have been into will have a sandwich section, from the small express style supermarkets to the big ones. They will often offer a £3 deal including a sandwich and a drink. Likewise, even on the trains with kiosks, one can expect decent sandwiches, if at a slightly higher than supermarket price. Reliable sandwich supply has been quite helpful when traipsing about from one end of the country to the other!

Arriving back into London at 10pm-ish, it was another underground trip across town to Shepherds Bush, where I'd booked a private room in a hostel. The price was quite terrible for a basic room, and as I enter the last week of the trip, I'm thinking about the budget quite a lot more. Mentally converting to Australian dollars, the realisation I'd paid $170 for this basic room was a tad annoying. I'd had a vague inkling that to conserve expenditure, I'd spend the last week in hostels, perhaps doing day trips by train. However London is not the place to stay if counting the pennies, even the hostel dorm rooms are approx $50 Australian per night, and sharing with up to nine others isn't exactly relaxing. So deciding to leave London behind again, I am off to Great Yarmouth in Norfolk for a couple of nights, with a vague inkling that following I might come back south and visit Brighton or Penzance before returning to Heathrow on the 17th for the journey home.

Sailing towards sunset across the North Sea.

Amsterdam

Amsterdam has been a thoroughly new experience for me, the first country I've visited where a different language is spoken, cars drive on the wrong side of the road, and perhaps worst, I haven't had internet access on my phone, so have been relegated to old fashioned methods of getting around like paper maps and asking people!

What has been a real brain twister is the cars driving on the right side of the road. It is so ingrained that you look to the right before stepping out onto a road, that even when you're consciously aware of the side of the road the cars are driving on, it is impossible to break the habit.

Adding to one's chances for being cleaned up by traffic in Amsterdam are the cycle ways on each side of the road. These are mini-roads for bicycles, and also scooters, whose riders zoom along at decent speeds, without helmets! So when crossing a typical road, one actually has five hazards to look out for (preferably in the right direction), bike lane, car lane, tram tracks, car lane, bike lane. There are even some teensy two seater cars, that sound like their powered by motorcycle engines that can apparently use the bike lanes.

Although arriving into the Netherlands was certainly a change from the Anglophile world of the UK, many Dutch people can speak English, so it was not too difficult to navigate from the ferry terminal at Hoek van Holland via two trains to Amsterdam Centraal Station. My hotel was one of the cheaper options, perhaps because it is located some distance from the city centre. It takes about fifteen to twenty minutes by tram from the central station, however it is a comfortable room, and the trams are frequent. The hotel itself, called Blue Square, is funnily enough clad entirely in blue panels. Makes it quite easy to spot from a distance!

I was a disorganised tourist yesterday, enjoying a sleep in, then catching a random tram, which happened to deposit me in the museum quarter. Some beautiful buildings, and quintessential canals, with ornate houses lining the sides. I took the option of one of the many canal cruises, and perhaps should have been more particular about which company I booked with. I seemed to have inadvertently chosen the one with the longest line, for a boat that had no outdoor area. Being late into the queue, I also missed a window seat, which limited somewhat the ability to take photos out the window. It was a pleasant cruise however, and I soon lost all sense of direction and place (something else internet access on the phone is good for is checking maps) as we wound through various small linking canals, and the three big canals, the Princes, the Gentleman's, the Emperor's, built during the 17th century. We briefly popped out into the harbour, would be an interesting place to take a longer cruise on.

Today, I joined an organised tour in two parts, visiting Volendam, Marken and Zaanse Schans in the morning, and then Delft and The Hague in the afternoon and evening. Volendam was once seaside town with a big fishing industry, until dike construction closed off access to the North Sea, and relegated it to being a lakeside town. We visited the cheese factory, where we were entertained by a presentation on cheese making, followed by a hard and soft sell of the cheese itself. I could have been tempted into buying a small wheel of the soft cheese, however was not quite sure about the rules for bringing food back through customs when coming back into Australia. And even the small wheel is not the amount of cheese one would hope to digest in a hurry over the next few days!

Following the cheese factory, the tour guide Edgar advised now would be a good time for lunch. It was 10am. Given the nature of the tour, this would be the last time we would be able to buy food, until returning to Amsterdam at 2:30pm. I was booked onto the second half of my tour, beginning at 2:30pm, so took the recommendation for an early lunch at a quayside restaurant, where the foreigners (myself included) ordered by pointing to pictures on the menu, and no doubt drastically mispronouncing the names listed. I had the kibelling, which was either cod or haddock, and was truly excellent!

We then took a boat for the former island of Marken. A dike constructed in the 1950s removed its island status, and provided road access. It's an odd island in that the residents were so used to being flooded (when it was open to the North Sea) that the houses were built on mounds dotted around the island, houses clustered together to take advantage of the small patches of artificially created high ground, and other houses built on stilts. Marken is home to a clog factory, and that's where we were headed (a surprisingly large number of tourists fit into a double decker bus, so we were quite a large group meandering through tiny alleyways on the island, passing between residents' houses. I get the feeling they didn't much care for the marauding hordes of tourists, given the disruption to their bicycle traffic, but I guess must tolerate the income generated).

The clog factory seemed to follow a similar mould (hehe) to the cheese factory - short demonstration followed by 'buy our stuff'. However the demonstration of clog making was quite captivating, as the guy demonstrated both old fashioned manual techniques, and 'new' methods using machines about to reach their 80th birthday. The machines are copyin devices, much like a large scale key cutting machine, where a cutting wheel or drill on one side follows a guide on the other side running over a model. Interestingly, clogs aren't just a cute souvenir item, and are still in demand for use today, where the main customers are farmers - the clogs provide water resistance, and excellent ability to traipse about in muddy, sodden, fields without getting stuck. As many of the fields the farmers work in are reclaimed land, below sea level, water is constantly being pumped out, and the clogs provide the ability to walk about on sodden ground. Ahead of gumboots, they apparently provide warmth, and don't get stuck, and for cattle graziers and dairy farmers, are the equivalent of steel capped boots, where it doesn't matter if your Friesian steps on your foot.

Next we were off to Zaanse Schans, to look at the windmills. This is an area with a number of traditional mills still operating, some grind spices, others pigments for colouring and dyeing, and others cocoa beans for chocolate products including dutch cocoa. As a result, the area was filled with some amazing smells.

Then, back to Amsterdam. I had booked the tour thinking it was a day tour, but instead it was just a combination of two separate tours, which began and finished in Amsterdam. Changing to the new bus, we were shortly off on the road to Delft, a town which is the home of Royal Delft, that quintessentially Dutch porcelain and ceramic work decorated in blue. Which the dutch originally copied from the Chinese, the Chinese are now returning the favour and flooding the souvenir market with 'Delft' style porcelain and ceramics! Quite an intriguing tour through the factory, learning that the 'blue' is initially black paint, which is hand painted (for the good stuff, they do transfers for the cheaper mass produced runs) onto the once fired ceramics, then when it is fired a second time, the high cobalt content of the paint undergoes a chemical reaction, and becomes blue. Invisible at this stage, it requires a third firing where the last glaze applied becomes transparent, and the bold blue colour is revealed.

Losing energy by this stage, and nearly nodding off on the bus, we were off to The Hague. The Hague is actually quite a decent sized city, and is the seat of government of the Netherlands, along with being home to several well known landmarks, like the International Criminal Court, Yugoslavia Tribunal, and the Carnegie funded Palace of Peace. It is also the home of the dutch monarchy, in both a working palace (fancy name for office) and nearby residence.
Tourist mode on and lots of photos taken! Then on the bus back to Amsterdam, a tram back to the hotel, and all that remains is to book a method of transport back to the UK for tomorrow, and I can call it a day!

Goedenavond!

Windermere - London - Harwich - Hoek van Holland - Amsterdam

The last couple of days feel like they've gone at warp speed! One minute I was peacefully enjoying a few days in the Lakes District, and now I'm in a hotel in Slotermeer Amsterdam, having crossed the North Sea by ferry overnight. I've always wanted to sail on the North Sea, however it didn't live up to its reputation of wild weather.

Monday morning dawned grey in Bowness on Windermere, with a heavy rain that was pleasant to sleep to sounds of, pleasant all the way up until it was time to check out of the Dene House bed and breakfast and wander down to the pier to wait for a bus. I'd had showers and drizzle each day in Windermere, but they'd been light and sporadic, and nothing much to worry about.

I bought an umbrella my second day in Windermere from the Booths supermarket next to the railway station (built on the site of the original Windermere railway station train shed, and built in the same style and profile to match the look and nod to the heritage. The site became available when the line was truncated in 1986.) only because I happened to be passing. The umbrella itself, as I'm sure you're eager to know, folds up very small, and rather than opt for a boring black one, I naturally went for one emblazoned with outlines of cats all over it. Still have ambitions for crazy cat lady.

The umbrella didn't get much use that day, and it was the Monday morning as I set off from the b&b for the walk to the bus stop that saw it unfolded into action. Of course, the problem with umbrellas that fold up very small is they tend to be somewhat small even when unfolded. It didn't stand a chance, and neither did I. Foolishly, having been lulled by the soft gentle sun showers of the days previous, I hadn't even put on my raincoat. Within two minutes, I was comprehensively wet. On reaching the bus stop, I was dismayed to realise that bus services in a holiday town like Bowness on Windermere run three times as often on weekends as they do on weekdays. Having enjoyed two weekend days of regular bus services, it was a shock to see the next bus to the station was 50 minutes away (despite still being popular with tourists during the week, the weekday schedule is one bus per hour).

Deciding this was no time to be frugal, I quickly propelled my luggage and I down the narrow footpath, streaming with water, to the ferry pier where I hoped to hail a taxi. Sure enough a taxi pulled in, and disgorged a couple of Japanese tourists undaunted by the weather and heading for the lake cruise ticket office. I gladly took the vacant taxi, and was happy to pay the £6 fare to the station to avoid fifty minutes in the rain!

So far, things were mostly going to plan. The plan, as it was, had been formulated that morning over breakfast when I was pondering places I hadn't been to in the UK but would like to see before I left. Having decided Oxford was one of those places, I booked a hotel room not far from the station, and planned the rail journey that would take me there. The rail journey would require three changes and four trains, and would cost a local £93 if they bought the ticket on the day of travel.

I have been extraordinarily privileged to have a BritRail pass that lets me go anywhere, anytime, on any train company, by any route. Train travel is considerably more expensive in the UK than in Europe or Australia, and buying tickets on the day of travel is the worst possible way to do it - the fare system is much like we are used to with airfares, the longer out you can book it, the better discount you will get. Purchase on the day and you're essentially handing your wallet over, whilst held upside down. I, on the other hand, am whizzing to and fro at a whim, thanks to the 22 day pass that overseas travellers can buy before leaving their home country. It cost a fair whack at $871 Australian dollars, but I have long since saved double what I would have paid buying tickets here.

With the expense however comes great service. 23 different train companies operate in the UK, on a network of track and stations managed by Network Rail. Network Rail is a government authority, though with interesting legal status about ownership, worth a read of Wikipedia if you're interested. Network Rail and the train operating companies coexist on the National Rail network, and it seems to be a system that works well. The system appears to be maintained very well, and the train operating companies, ranging from small to large offer levels of service I have never seen in Australia. There are two "big" train operating companies that compete for north south services, East Coast rail run services from London (Kings Cross) to Scotland on the east coast mainline, while Virgin Trains run London to Scotland services on the west coast mainline (with fancy Pendolino tilting trains). Other smaller operators are found in particular local areas and regions, for example ScotRail in Scotland, Abellio Greater Anglia in the east of England.

Returning to the wet and cold platform at Windermere on a damp Monday morning, my satisfaction with the railways was about to take a sudden down turn. Another thing National Rail do well is their iOS app. Watching on the app, I was able to see service disruption alerts start to cascade, and train cancellations start to spread. Turned out the wet weather had brought down a tree on the overhead electric line between Penrith and Carlisle. Penrith was a little to the north of Windermere and it's junction at Oxenholme, and I was heading south, so initially I naively thought I'd be fine. However the north bound trains couldn't get south, and the flow on effects of having the west coast mainline shut down began to filter into a much wider area. Communication to passengers was pretty woeful, no announcements on the platform, the displays still had the train running as normal to Lancaster when the app said it would terminate at Oxenholme. People arriving at the station having heard radio reports, and geeks like me with the app were better informed than the station staff it seemed. This carried on to the on train staff, when it arrived, as the conductor announced shortly into the trip that he had just been told the train would terminate. The app had said it would half an hour before his announcement!

With the cancellations spreading, like some sort of viral outbreak, I realised the odds of making my hotel booking in Oxford were shrinking. I rang the hotel, and the kind receptionist ignored their stern cancellation policy and cancelled the booking for me. This was a relief as I wouldn't have to pay £85 on a hotel room I probably wouldn't reach. (In the end, I probably could have made it to Oxford, by going to London and then catching a bus, but it was a big relief not to have to stress about it). Stress removed, I decided to just sit back and see what happened.

Once our train arrived in Oxenholme, where we had been told buses would be arranged, I made a fairly mad dash from platform 2 to platform 1 via the pedestrian subway. My aim was the station bathrooms to answer an urgent call of nature that had been pressing for some time! Arriving at the top of the ramp though, I was confronted by a overly helpful railway staffer (there are staff everywhere here) who wanted to know where in was going, as no trains would be leaving from platform 1 for the foreseeable future. He was somewhat taken aback by my intended destination of 'bathroom', before advising that the last south bound train for the day was about to arrive on platform 2. (It had managed to get through the disruption area very slowly, before they shut down the line entirely for overhead repair.) it was the 8:30am service, arriving at 11:30, so only a minor delay. Arrival was expected in any minute. I asked if I had time to visit the bathroom, to be greeted with a rueful shrug, "You decide!" he said...

I abandoned the plan, and zoomed back to platform 2, whizzing big heavy bag down and up the ramps, and wishing its wheels would go straight when it was pointing straight. Sure enough, a Virgin Pendolino pulled slowly in, headed for London Euston. I jumped on, managed to find a spot for big heavy bag, and a seat for me. It was pretty busy, with seats becoming quite rare. If I'd known better, I should have been standing at the front end of the train, as when they get packed, the conductor will 'declassify' the train, meaning standard ticket holders can then find a seat in the first class cars. That must really annoy the first class ticket holders who pay an absolute fortune for their tickets on an already expensive system.

Thinking I'm pretty comfy where I am, may as well take this train through to London. To get to Oxford, I'd have to change at Preston for a service to Wolverhampton, which was still showing as cancelled in the national rail app. More surprises in store however, when we were told, shortly before arriving into Preston, that the train would terminate at Preston. No reason given, though as another passenger who had got on at Oxenholme said, "knew it was too good to be true!" However Preston wasn't too bad, as we were able to cross the platform to another Virgin London Euston train, which had not been cancelled as was departing shortly. This train was packed... I had to push not so politely through two carriages before I found a luggage rack that wasn't chockers, and once BHB was stowed, had to hunt for a seat, in a carriage where people were vainly hoping to retain two seats for themselves by placing belongings on the empty seat next to them. Found a seat when one guy decided he could deign to move his orange juice bottle.

By now I'd pretty much settled on London as a destination, anything else looked too chancy. Arrived into London Euston about three hours after leaving Windermere. Euston is an unlovable station. No charm to it, grimy, windy. Managed to book into the Penn Club again, though they only had a room for one night, were fully booked the following night. That made making plans for moving on a might easier, other wise I'd been pondering another few days in London. Bags shucked, I found I had a lot more energy this time around in London than I did when I first arrived, so decided it was time for a good walk. Left Russell square and made my way via Piccadilly Circus through to Hyde park and following that on into Paddington. Took a good two and a half hours, but Hyde park was excellent and something I'd been wanting to see since reading about the serpentine lake in one of Bill Bryson's novels.

After a comfortable night in the Penn Club, this time on the first floor instead of the fourth, with a huge big window to look out of, I began the process of deciding where next. I kind of took the day before's happenings as a sign Oxford wasn't really worth going to. I decided instead to search the inventory of the brain as to things I thought I might do while I was over here, of which visit Amsterdam in the Netherlands was one, given my paternal family is of Dutch background ( ). My grandparents moved to Australia from the Netherlands after the Second World War, following some time in Indonesia, and my grandfather worked on both the snowy and kiewa hydro electric schemes in Australia.

Combining that with the desire to continue messing about in boats, a ferry was the obvious solution! For £96 I booked a private cabin, with window, on Tuesday night's sailing from Harwich to Hoek van Holland. With a day to kill, I took my time getting to London's Liverpool station, and then took a scenic ride through to Norwich to have a look around. Wandered by one of the canals (or Broads) for a bit, before heading back to the junction at Manningtree and taking a local train to the Harwich International Terminal. Being early to things is a bit of a habit. But arriving five hours early at the ferry terminal was rather a mistake. Ferry terminals I seem to find, are boring places. Acres of linoleum, mega watts of fluorescent lights, faded and unstaffed tourism counters, and a cafe with the shutters down were all that greeted me at Harwich International.

Abandoning the terminal fairly quickly I took the next train to Harwich town. Nothing there. Small, dim, dreary and almost morbid town, the fish and chip shop (First Plaice) showed the only sign of life. Back on the train, this time back past the terminal to the junction town of Manningtree. I walked two kilometres into the town centre, to find not much. Bought a box of tissues from the supermarket (tissues seem to be a rarity in the UK, the tissue boxes are half the size of the ones we buy in Australia, and I paid the equivalent of $7 Australian for a twin pack that would just be coming close to the size of a normal box back home.) and then walked the 2kmback to the station. Not much gained other than a sore shoulder from pushing big heavy bag around so much. All this gallivanting did what it was supposed to though, and killed enough hours so that I was back at the terminal with an hour wait until checkin.

The ferry sails at 23:15, but you can board from 20:30, to either go straight to sleep in your cabin or enjoy what's on offer aboard. I had a dinner of cold poached salmon with pickled cucumber and potatoes in the restaurant, while slowly getting my head around the new currency of euros! I had booked on huge website for Stena line a 'private' cabin, which I took to be just myself. So I was a bit surprised to get one of the five berth cabins with a big window, but it was mine alone for the night, so so much the better! I couldn't really sleep until the ferry began to move, and seeing the blinking channel lights of the North Sea was fantastic. A lot of them have their own names, and blink at different intervals so can be read like street signs of highways for vessels sailing across and through. Alas no big waves, just some gentle roll in the wee hours, no pitching motion felt at all.

The ferry, Stena Hollandica, is quite new and the condition was excellent, which was good news when reading about some North Sea ferry services. Arrived into Hoek van Holland at about 07:30, and was on a train shortly thereafter. Nice to get a second stamp in my passport after getting the first at Heathrow when I first arrived. Fairly casual process though, a few questions about the purpose of your visit, where you're staying. No need to see return ticket, or travel docs or anything other than the passport. Not complaining!

Early checkin was excellent news at the blue square best western hotel. Had a nap, and then have pooled about the city on the trams. I was able to buy from the tourist office an all day tram ticket for €7.50, which despite being paper, has the RFID chip in it like our myki cards. Just goes to show how crazy Victoria was to give up on the short term ticket option, this paper one works fine tapping on and off the trams, though the Dutch call it checking in and checking out, and the reading gives you a cheery tot ziens goodbye on checking out! The trams have separate entry doors and exit doors, the two entry doors are watched by the driver and the, wait for it, conductor, who check that people check on and the reader gives a green light. The conductors also sell tickets and dispense travel advice - what a novel idea!

Three nights here in Amsterdam, then back to the UK somehow, haven't decided yet. Pondering either the Eurostar or a day ferry sailing.

Coniston Water

More messing about in boats today!

Took a white knuckle bus ride to Coniston, crazily narrow, twisting road barely wide enough for the bus. Stone walls or hedges either side, cars had to do their best to pull over or reverse to let the bus through. No small bus either! Thought we'd get jammed in a few times.

Hired another little boat on Coniston Water, and puttered down to have a look at Peel Island, the inspiration for Wild Cat island in the Arthur Ransome novels.

iPhone now filled with photos and refusing to take any more, so no new photos until I can resolve!

No plans for tomorrow as yet, but thinking I'll head south, perhaps back to London.

Windermere.

Friday began with a great deal of indecision. I'd enjoyed my two nights in Glasgow, and the day's bus tour to Stirling, Loch Lomond and Glen Goyne, and had done a fair walking tour of the city area the day before. With no longing to remain in Glasgow, it was time to choose where to go next. My vague inkling of heading up into the north west of Scotland wasn't going to work, as once again the days had snuck by and it was a Friday. The attraction for heading north to Fort William is the Jacobite Express steam train which runs from Fort William to Mallaig, on reportedly scenic tracks. This is the line and train used in the Harry Potter films. However as the summer tourist season wanes, the train doesn't operate on weekends. Added to that, a not very ample supply of accommodation in either Fort William or Mallaig, and that plan was pretty much scrubbed.

What was difficult was making the decision on where to go instead! I dithered over several options for quite some time, becoming somewhat frustrated as I pondered the map, and looked up options on the internet (hotel wifi is fairly common here and so far has all been free, very handy at making plans. Or sitting there in frustration trying to make plans). I considered returning into the highlands, passing through Inverness and heading for Thurso or Wick, however that would mean 9+ hours on the train! and again nothing immediately sprang out as enjoyable accommodation in either town.

Feeling the pressure of time (that was all in my head really, hotel check out was 11am, and this was about 8am) I ended up deciding to leave Scotland, and head south for the Lakes district. A bit of a sad moment as I've loved my time in Scotland and would love to explore it more, but the planets weren't aligned this way for now. Decision made, I hunted down accommodation in the town of Bowness on Windermere. Thankfully some of the reading I had done about the lakes district before leaving Australia led me to know that the town of Windermere is quite a long way from the lake (30 min walk) and that the twin town of Bowness on Windermere is, perhaps obviously enough, the town 'on' lake Windermere. The two towns began life separately but with expansion eventually merged into one large town, with two distinct shopping centres however, and the lakeside area still known as Bowness. So I knew if I wanted to be within a nice walking distance from the lake, I'd be aiming for Bowness not Winderemere.

I'm not sure if Great Britain has a b&b capital, but Windermere and Bowness must certainly come close. Traditional style hotels are less common here, whereas every second building down the main road and up the side roads appears to be accommodation of one sort or another. I've been using a mix of Expedia, trip advisor and google to find accommodation options so far on this trip (and have done pretty bloody well!) though often I'll find a suggested place and then look up their own website for more info. In this manner, I found Dene House bed and breakfast, which had such positive reviews on trip advisor I wondered briefly if the proprietors had written them all! A pleasant surprise was I found a cheaper rate for the room I wanted by going direct to the website, rather than through Expedia. The room I have ended up in is a simple but comfortable single bed room, with a 'private' bathroom. Although the bathroom is private and reserved only for the occupant of my room, it is somewhat less convenient than an ensuite in that it is across the corridor from the actual room. However I can't quibble much, as the overall accommodation is excellent, the tea and cake on arrival was a welcome touch, and the rate is very good, and other than the horrid night in an Edinburgh hostel, is the cheapest per night accommodation I have stayed in so far at £50 per night.

Arriving into Windermere by train, one arrives in the upper town proper of Windermere, some 30 minutes walk from the lake. The lazy option would have been a taxi, however I looked past that and studied the bus stop signs and timetables, and found the bus route which would take me into Bowness and avoid the long walk with big heavy bag (tempted to name it BHB). £2.20 for the bus ride, and not a whole lot later, the bus wound its way down the narrow streets and turned onto the road along the lake. Disembarking, I began the walking part - buoyed by reports on trip adviser that Dene House was only a five minute walk from the lake. Ten minutes later, I realised I had once again been screwed by Google maps who had sent me on the road heading towards Kendal (the next town) with the aim of taking a road up the hill and slightly back towards town. What made that route hard was there was no road where Google said there was. So I had to trudge another 5 or so minutes back towards town, then up the right road, where Google had the temerity to say recalculating. Having eventually found the place, and later shucked of bags and wandering back into town, I discovered it really was only a five minute walk, less to some of the shops and restaurants, only I had set off in completely the wrong direction from the bus stop thanks to google maps. I am becoming a fan of apple maps.

Wandering along through the small township, I was enjoying taking in the sights and sounds. It's a weird feeling to visit a place you have only read about, and even then what you have read was set in the between wars period of the 20th century. But enough similarities exist to be able to spot things and wonder. Especially the 'steamers', boats that run up and down the lake. Once they actually were steam powered, but have since been converted to diesel, the one I first stepped aboard had been converted to diesel in 1956. They remain marvellous boats however, and I quickly bought a ticket and boarded one for a cruise down to the south end of the lake, at Lakeside. At Lakeside, the steamer pulls alongside the pier, on the other side of which is a steam train, with carriages that look like they've come straight out of Thomas the Tank Engine, and a blue steam locomotive sitting there chuffing away. £6.50 buys you a ticket on the Lakeside and Haverthwaite railway, which is not hugely remarkable, shorter, slower and less scenic than our own Puffing Billy, but I dare say £6.50 is a fair bit less of a dare than puffing billy. Ten minutes of gentle rattling down the line, initially alongside the river Leven, you arrive into Haverthwaite. The engine runs around, and then we're off, back to Lakeside to board the last steamer of the day back to Bowness.

The steamers are remarkably well maintained, with shining teak and comfortable lounges, and fully equipped cafe and bar. However, despite the wintry weather and cold wind, I enjoyed standing outside at the front, watching the shores of the lake go by (the first time I have needed my raincoat on this trip!). Interestingly, for me, the audio commentary pointed out an island that had been used in the 1970s film of Swallows and Amazons. I haven't seen this film, and doubt I ever will, love the books too much, but this was certainly further indication I was in the right place. The scenery was epic (I had thought nothing much would wow me again after Scotland) and travelling up the lake was fantastic.

Saturday dawned cold and rainy. Some real rain, not just the minor sun showers I've experienced so far. The weather report didn't look promising. Chores number one was laundry however, and this is where my hiking backpack came in handy - loaded it up with all my clothes, and walked down to the pier to wait for a bus up to Windermere. Googling had revealed only one laundromat for miles around. Reaching the laundromat, with the aid of apple maps, it turned out I wasn't the only one spending Saturday morning doing laundry. One local, whose washing machine had broken down (and who was quite taken aback at the £4.40 per wash) and a collection of tourists queuing for four working machines, and one ornamental machine, there only for decoration, at least until they repair it. Unlike my happy experience of a laundromat in Inverness, where I was able to walk straight in, use a machine, and then use two dryers at the same time, before driving everything back to the hotel in the rental car, this laundry process was more tedious, as i first had to wait for someone else's cycle to finish. And after it finished, I had to then wait further for them to finish their leisurely amble around town and come back and remove their washing from the machine. It's not the done thing to pull out someone else's finished washing, but it can get annoying sitting looking at two finished machines, with the contents' owners nowhere in sight. This did give me more reading time however, something I haven't done much of on this trip. I bought the first game of thrones book from a wonderful bookshop in Leeds (we don't have book shops like that anymore in Australia!) but haven't read much to date. The train trips I've done have had enthralling scenery where it would seem sacrilegious to read rather than gaze out the window. So doing laundry had some benefits.

Later, it appeared choosing to do the laundry in the morning was the right decision - the weather began to clear, the rain stopped, and even hints of blue sky were showing as I walked back from the bus stop to the b&b. Washing hung up and folded (no kidding) and changed from shorts into jeans, I set off again, back to the pier, with the aim of chartering a vessel. Ok, hiring a self drive electric powered boat would be a more truthful description. “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” Equipped with a life jacket, some sage advice about which way to turn if approaching another boat head on (right) and the doleful warning to stay well clear of the chains of the car ferry, I was off, with three hours booked, to explore the lake from a lower and slower vantage point than yesterday's steamer.

Puttering about the lake has got to be one of the (admittedly many) trip highlights so far. The weather had fined up, and was beautiful. Except for one brief period of stormy weather and seas - quite suddenly the weather turned foul, rain lashed the boat, and the wind picked up some decent swell on the lake. It was over before it became anything serious, and I was back into sunshine. Heading north up the lake towards Ambleside, the views of the fells were awe inspiring. It wasn't sailing, but it certainly ticked the box for me of exploring Lake Windermere on the water.

Two more nights here in Bowness, the pace slowing down a bit, and with any luck I shall get over to have a look at Coniston Water tomorrow. There's an option of a local bus tour, open roof double deckers like in London, but green, so that may be a relaxing way to sit back and watch the country side go by.

The town itself remains very busy, the end of summer not having slowed the tourist trade much, weekends here are busy throughout the year, and varying districts 'half terms' providing a fairly constant stream of tourists up until November. A half term is as best I can tell, a week long break in the middle of the school term! I like the idea! However most UK schools still have three terms per year, to our four, and I'm not sure I like that idea.

Glasgow

Leaving Inverness was hard to do, it's a beautiful town on the banks of the River Ness with a peaceful feel to it. Staying in the Beaufort hotel was a pleasure too, an excellent hotel with a very comfortable bed. The plan, and it's probably the least settled plan I've had so far, was to head for Glasgow, back down south. Was sorry to be leaving the highlands, the epic scenery, and the cheerful, relaxed and friendly attitude of Inverness and its locals. I had been pondering heading further north to Thurso, and from there possibly to the Orkney Islands. Probably should have read the lonely planet guide before getting on the train to Glasgow, as it turns out I could also have taken a train to Kyle of Lochalsh from Inverness, on the west coast.

To get to Glasgow from Inverness, I took an Edinburgh train as far as Perth, then changed for a Glasgow service, coming through from Aberdeen. For Glasgow, I'd booked a night in the new Z Hotel, which opened two weeks ago. They're still painting in certain parts of the hotel, including in the central light well which runs from level 1 up to a large skylight in the roof. Being a brand new hotel, everything is pretty swish. They have cheap rooms available, which are internal only, with no window. However the rooms have 40" tvs, and individual air conditioning. I thought I'd suck it and see with a windowless room at £60, but as I came down on the train, my plans firmed up, and would need two nights in Glasgow. On check in, and before I'd even been up to the room, I booked a second night. Turned out to be a win, the room they allocated me, and I don't know if it was a mistake, was one on level four with a large window facing into the light well, and the skylight directly above!

Thus none of my qualms about a windowless room have been put to the test. As well, the individual split system air conditioner was very good at keeping fresh air coming into the room (the window itself doesn't open), so was less stuffy than some other hotel rooms I've been in. Somewhat curiously, you can see directly across the light well into the hotel rooms on the other side, however there are very good blackout blinds when it's time for privacy. The bathroom is in the room, but separated by floor to ceiling glass walls, an arrangements which provides a comfortable sized hotel room, with a feeling of space, complete with bathroom in what is actually a fairly small footprint.

Another nice feature of this hotel is the free wine and cheese offered each evening from 5pm in the bar. Not sure if this is an opening special, or will be a long term offering, but it's another plus for this hotel! They were quite happy to change my free wine to a Heineken yesterday, today I'm being more adventurous and am trying the Sauvignon blanc. Not sure where it comes from, but it's not half bad. A range of very decent cheeses, olives, dried tomatoes, dill pickles, with chunks of bread and dry biscuits to choose from.

Today I became even more of a tourist... Booked a bus tour with a company called Rabbie's. Small coaches advertised, the tour visited Stirling castle, Aberfoyle, Loch Lomond, and the Glen Goyne whisky distillery. None of these would have been accessible by train, so the bus tour was a great way to do it. What I hadn't realised was the advantage of a knowledgable tour guide who have a great history of the places we visited, including some of the Glasgow landmarks on the way out of the city. The tour guide made it worth taking the tour, even if I had been able to get to the destinations by train or bus! An interesting fact, as we passed by another wind farm, is that Scotland makes 38% of its electricity needs through renewable methods - wind, hydro, solar, and tidal generators in the North Sea. They aim to have 50% by 2020. What a different attitude to what we have in Australia.

Stirling castle was fantastic, and well worth a visit. Perhaps biased, they reckoned their castle was much better than Edinburgh's. A Historic Scotland guide led us on a guided tour around the key points of the castle, interspersing Scottish and royal history, my knowledge of which is pretty basic. The tour guide on the bus took great delight in rubbishing the film Braveheart and all it's historical inaccuracies. We got a much better crash course in history from her, and the Stirling castle guide. Stirling castle has been restored relatively recently, until 1964 it was used as an army barracks, where they had essentially desecrated the amazing buildings, turning the great hall into accommodation by turning it into a three storey building, removing the roof and original windows. All of this happened over a few hundred years, but since 1964 the castle has been painstakingly restored, and opened in 2011.

A stop in the village of Aberfoyle for lunch, then onto Loch Lomond, where we did a 2km walk requiring a fair amount of exertion, to climb a hill giving great views of the loch, and of Ben Lomond in the distance. The Loch is the largest in surface area in Scotland, though not the deepest. 38 Islands can be found within the loch, several of which are inhabited, including one with a population of wallabies, created by an eccentric lady who divided her time between Scotland and Australia.

Onto the Glen Goyne distillery, and a fantastic tour (and tasting) through the distillery, following the processes of how whisky is made. It's essentially the same process as creating beer, up until the distillation step. Truly amazing smells as we walked through (and climbed) the distillery. Glen Goyne don't use any peat in their barley malting process, so end up with a fruity rather than smoky whisky. Interestingly, the distillery straddles the border between the lowlands and highlands whisky regions - the distillery on the north side of the road means the whisky can be considered a highlands whisky, however they bottle and mature the whisky in large sheds on the south side of the road. An interesting fact I hadn't known, the whisky when it comes out of the distillation process is clear. It attains all its colour from the oak barrels it's matured in, Glen Goyne, like many scotch distilleries, use Spanish sherry casks to age their whisky. The colour depends on if the cask is being used for the first, second or third time. A cask costs £800 and is used for approximately sixty years.

Another night tonight in Glasgow, then the rough plan at this stage is to head for Fort William, from where you can catch the Jacobite express steam train to Mallaig. This is meant to be a very scenic trip, and crosses the Glenfinnan viaduct. However other than the train option, Fort William has been described as fairly plain otherwise with not much to see or do. There's still an inkling to head back north, to Wick or Thurso, though that would be a very long day on the train. Once I finish with Scotland, I'm aiming for Windermere in the lakes district, where I'd like to stay a few days. This will hopefully allow me to carry out a childhood dream of sailing on the same lake as the swallows and amazons, from the children's stories by Arthur Ransome.