Saturday. 1:30 p.m. Mike Says, "Let's Drive West."

Saturday. 1:30 p.m. Mike says, "Let's drive west."

Okay.

Hi, Mike here....in order to keep things "real", I'm going to edit this post along the way...just so you get a correct understanding of what this day was all about. My thoughts will be in italics....because that's what my thoughts look like.....slanted.

With no real destination in mind and having done no pre-planning or preparation, I grabbed our New Members packet from the National Trust before we left the house and then we stopped at a gas station to buy a road map of Great Britain and Ireland.

My lap in the car.

Mike decided he wanted to see the Irish Sea, at the other side of the country. So we fueled up and hit the road.

 You didn't think I mean the gas tank, did you?

It was drizzly, but we didn't want to be cooped up inside the house all day. We decided to travel along Highway B6318, a two-lane road that runs through what's known as Hadrian's Wall Country. I like Mir's use of the word "decided"...what she means to say is, we drove in circles until we saw a sign that said "Hadrians Wall Thisaway----->" And we happened to follow that road through the country side.

B6318 and the ancient wall, begun in AD 122, run side by side from east to west across England's northernmost counties. There's also a footpath that many hikers and backpackers walk each year, from sea to sea. Eric and Anne, we're going to hike along the wall when you guys come out...we've already picked the beginning of the hike and the end...we won't be going sea to sea, just the best part of it IMO.

Photo source: www.en.wikipedia.org

As we drove along, we knew we were on the right road, we could see hikers on the footpath, but where was the wall? I mean, there were lots of walls. All looked really old and broken down in places and covered with moss. Does a 2,000-year-old rock wall look different from a 200-year-old wall?

We stopped for a late lunch at 3:00 at the Errington Arms.

As soon as we walked in, Mike said he felt like he was at the beginning of a D&D quest. This reference was 100% lost on me because I was cool in high school. Sheesh....OK, so yea, most games did begin at old taverns where you meet rangers and magic users and went on quests for things like the "trousers of the shimmering whale" or the "black sword of the phoenix"....oh no...I'm a dork.

Ollie is the dungeon master. Did I get the lingo right?
Can we stop the D&D references now please?

This D&D geek grew up alright. 

The food was great. Because it was between lunch and
dinner, they were only serving sandwiches.
No bother, everything we ordered was delicious.

The big boys both had Wiltshire ham and mature cheddar with tomato
on homemade ciabatta bread.

 After a great meal and a pot of hot tea, we ventured onto the Hadrian's Wall Path--just for a little bit. An entry point to the path went up and over the rock wall immediately behind the Errington Arms.

Mike helps Ollie up and over the step-ladder.
He does look a little like a hooded, dark figure from a D&D adventure, no?
For crying out loud...I was looking down because
I thought I had stepped in some sheep dip.

We walked straight through a sheep pasture.

Don't step in the poo, boys. We called this the poopath,
 also known as the turtrail.

I am the stoic sheep of the north, I will slay you with my dominant stance!

Not Hadrian's Wall.
Just one of many lookalikes.
Nice one Mir....get everyone's hopes up...yep,
 just another wall.

When we finally saw the wall, it was pretty obvious that it was different from the many old, mossy walls we'd been seeing the whole drive so far. It was much wider than any of the other walls we'd seen.

Photo source: en.wikipedia.org

Eventually, we had to choose whether we were going to go southwest, toward Carlisle, or northwest, toward--well, not much--just a few small towns that looked like they were nestled along the shores of the Solway Firth, which opened up to the Irish Sea. (I think "firth" is what they call a bay or sound in Scotland...?)

Yes, Scotland. Somehow in my awesome map-reading abilities, I missed the border. So Mike goes, "Um, Scotland?" as we pass the Welcome to Scotland sign. He looks over at me. OK, at this point I kind of started losing it...Mir was the navigator, her job was to navigate. And now we were in Scotland, which was cool, but not our intended destination. I usually enjoy spontaneous trips, but by now I'd seen enough sheep and was ready to see the water.

Oops.

And we drive into this little town called Gretna Green. We see signs for The Old Blacksmith Shop and The Blacksmith's Museum. And there are lots of little B&Bs along the main road. And a run down hotel or two that maybe, once upon a time, had been semi-grand. And then we're out of town and back on quiet two-lane road with nothing but fields of sheep. Awesome.

We try to go left/south towards the water's edge. We try it in East Rigg, then Rigg, and then Newbie. In Newbie, we found a road that went down to the firth, but were blocked by the gates to a chemical plant. 

No waterfront. Nowhere.

It's about 7:00 by this time. The boys are hungry. Their bedtime is in 30 minutes. We learned on our last spontaneous trip to Scotland to keep an overnight bag in the car, so this time we are prepared. And so we say, "Let's look for a place to spend the night and grab some dinner." ...but, there were not restaurants around, and every little town we went through was dead quiet...except for the sheep.

Our plan is evolving on the fly, which is sort of driving Merrit crazy because he keeps saying, "Where are we gooooooing?" We try to be understanding because, after all, they've been in the car now for a long time. Mir is being very gracious with the term understanding...I nearly wrenched my back trying to swing around the front seat to tell Merrit to quit whining...oh no...we're all losing it. This is where you read about the family who got lost in Scotland and all that was found was a burned out bmw, empty cracker packs and a note reading..."The sheep are all around us now, watching...WATCHING us unfold (see what I did there?), so we've decided to join them. Goodbye everyone, see ewe later..."

I wish I had some pictures of Gretna Green but, we didn't take a single photo. Why?

1. The town was sort-of run down and forgettable; not much to see

2. It was raining harder now

3. We were on a mission: Food and shelter

We did however, video this exciting moment:



I ducked through the rain to about six different lodges, inns, hotels, and B&Bs. For a small town, this place sure had a lot of hotels! And, curiously, every one of them was booked! We were flummoxed. We use this word when we play D&D too.

At one hotel, I asked the receptionist, "Is there some kind of convention going on or something? Everywhere is booked." And she looked at me like I had a second head and said, "Well, there are a lot of weddings..."

Every hotel I went into had large framed photographs (like 50 or more!) of the different brides who'd had their receptions there. At one motor lodge, I walked through a wedding reception (bride in white gown and groom in a KILT...not kidding!) to get to the reception desk. It felt like a scene from "The Wedding Crashers." I was tempted to grab a glass of champagne and start talking up the guests, but Mike and the kids were waiting in the car, so...

I said to Mike, "What's up with anvils in this town?" Every hotel I'd gone into had a huge anvil in the lobby, or propping open a door, or whatever. This was a first for me. I'd never seen an anvil in real life--only in Roadrunner cartoons. And in one day I must have seen seven. Very weird.

We decided to drive to Carlisle. Thankfully it was only 11 miles away. My map reading skills, again, are horrible. It looked, like, really far away on the map! I would like to point out that this is the time Mir chooses to confess that her map reading skills are horrible...not on a 7 hr drive through the country but here on a blog. Neato.

So we find a vacancy, but it was £100, and not even that nice of a hotel and so I say, "Don't kill me, but why don't we grab some dinner and just drive back home? Look, it only took us 10 minutes to get to Carlisle on the main highway; I bet it's not that far back to Newcastle." And, for the first time, I used the map's grid and key to work out (duh!) the distance between Point A and Point B. "It looks like it's only about 54 miles to get back home." HA HA HA....oh boy, that's a good one buddy"

So we stop for dinner.

Mike, disenchanted with England and Scotland by this point, suggests
McDonald's.

And then regrets it.

 With lead bricks in our bellies, but having spent only £9 to feed a family of four (isn't that how they ALWAYS getcha?), we get in the car and find our way to highway A69. The dual carriageway is going to get us the 50-odd miles to Newcastle in less than an hour! Sweeeeeet.

Because it stays light outside so late now, it was dusk all the way home. The boys slept, Mike and I listened to music and watched the fields pass by, enjoying the idea of the money we'd saved by skipping a hotel and the thought of waking up in our own bed in the morning.

Our mellow drive back went something like this:





Now, are you ready for the punchline?
We were talking the next morning about how our whole trip--but especially our detour to Gretna Green--was like an episode of "The Twilight Zone." So Mike googles Gretna Green, Scotland. From en.wikipedia.org:

Gretna Green is one of the world's most popular wedding destinations, hosting over 5000 weddings each year, and one of every six Scottish weddings.^[2]

Gretna's famous "runaway marriages" began in 1753 when Lord Hardwicke's Marriage Act was passed in England; it stated that if both parties to a marriage were not at least 21 years old, then parents had to consent to the marriage. This Act did not apply in Scotland, where it was possible for boys to marry at 14 and girls at 12 years old with or without parental consent (see Marriage in Scotland). Many elopers fled England, and the first Scottish village they encountered was Gretna Green. The Old Blacksmith's Shop, built around 1712, and Gretna Hall Blacksmith's Shop (1710) became, in popular folklore at least, the focal tourist points for the marriage trade. The Old Blacksmith's opened to the public as a visitor attraction as early as 1887.

The local blacksmith and his anvil have become the lasting symbols of Gretna Green weddings. Scottish law allowed for "irregular marriages", meaning that if a declaration was made before two witnesses, almost anybody had the authority to conduct the marriage ceremony. The blacksmiths in Gretna became known as "anvil priests".

Since 1929 both parties in Scotland have had to be at least 16 years old, but they still may marry without parental consent. In England and Wales, the age for marriage is now 16 with consent and 18 without.

Gretna's two blacksmiths' shops and countless inns and smallholding became the backdrops for hundreds of thousands of weddings. Today there are several wedding venues in and around Gretna Green, from former churches to purpose-built chapels. The services at all the venues are always performed over an iconic blacksmith's anvil. Gretna Green endures as one of the world's most popular wedding venues, and thousands of couples come from around the world to be married 'over the anvil' at Gretna Green.

So there you have it, we stumbled into a one-of-a-kind destination and didn't even know it. Gretna Green. Not that we'll be going back. Ever.

The Forbidden Corner

What is The Forbidden Corner? Ah, I'm so glad you asked. It started out as one man's personal garden, built on land that was stripped clean as it had once been part of a military base.

The goddess Venus.

With a butt tattoo?

Obviously, this gent has a sense of humor and is a kid at heart. There were so many interesting things to see in the gardens. From holes in the wall that actually have mirrors in them, to water spouts that squirt unexpectedly when you walk by, to quirky sculptures like bears playing cards, amazing murals, gorgeous rock work, hedge mazes, and more than a few claustrophobia-inducing tight, dark passageways.

We went with friends to this spot--they've been here many times before--and we all had a blast! Here are some of the best pics of the day...

The entrance to The Forbidden Corner is via this big mouth.
When you walk through you have to dodge a huge, swinging
epiglottis and  a loud burp erupts, activated by motion sensor.

An overlook from the hedge maze. Don't miss the deer in the fields.

Merrit and his friend run down the hedge maze. Thankfully, no one was lost.
At least, not permanently. 

Here we are in a rotating room with seven doors...

Going down, down, down, deep into the caverns beneath the gardens.

It was too dark to take pictures, but we found underground waterfalls, twisting and turning passageways, statues of Ancient Greek gods, scary soundtracks, murals, illuminated and moving floors, and all kinds of craziness.

We broke for lunch. Between my friend Jo and I, we had an amazing spread. A cheese board and pate with crackers. Plums, strawberries, and bananas. Hummus, tabouli, chicken salad with walnuts and grapes, and fingerling potato salad with scallions. Wine, sparkling water, and OJ-spritzers. Cookies and chocolate. It was fab!

After lunch, we had some company.

Swinging around and around is good for the digestion.
Not so much.

These stepping stones had motion-activated sprinklers
in them...take a look at the next picture!

Mike barely escaped without getting drenched!

Huge woodsman with his axe. The legs are tree trunks!
Amazing.

How lucky am I? I married a man with a great sense of humor who's a
kid at heart...just like the man who created this garden.
Oh, and his legs are like tree trunks. The coincidences just keep coming.

On our way home we stopped at this village pub for tea.

Destination: The Holy Island of Lindisfarne

We set out late on Saturday morning for The Holy Island of Lindisfarne, our first trip in our new-to-us car. The island is about an hour and 20 minutes from our home in Whitley Bay and is about 15 minutes past Bamburgh Castle, which we visited earlier this spring.

On our way, we stopped for lunch in the Village of Alnmouth. The grey cloud cover that had followed us all the way from Whitley Bay suddenly cleared, making our stopover in this sweet little ocean-front town all the more stunning.

We drove through the town once or twice, looking for a place to eat. There were two coffee shops, two inns/pubs, and a sandwich shop by the golf course. We flipped a coin (not really) between the two pubs and settled on The Sun Inn.

We had a delicious starter of warm bread and just-from-the-oven Camembert cheese. For our meal, the boys shared a 100% Brittish beef hamburger (a bit overcooked) with baked beans (a staple side dish!) and chips (aka French fries). I ordered steamed mussels, which were good, but Mike didn't like his meal so he ate my mussels and I ate his crayfish salad on a baguette. It was okay, but I was eyeing MY mussels the whole time. :-)

This pub served proper English ales, meaning hand pumped and just a bit cooler than room temp. 

Merrit is looking so grown up these days with those adult front teeth coming in! The boys have always been pretty good restaurant-goers. It helps that they love food, I guess, but it definitely makes it more enjoyable for us when we know that they'll sit (relatively) still for an hour or so while we have a nice meal out. 

Sound-front terraced homes in Alnmouth.

The tide going out from the sound back into the North Sea.
Dunes. Wildflowers. Gorgeous.

Can you believe these poppies?
Are these wild or have they been planted here? So picturesque!

Poppies are blooming everywhere right now. The petals look like paper. 

Everywhere we looked along this seafront walkway,
we took in beautiful ocean views.

This makes me think of the North Carolina coast and the sea oats.

The sound with boats, and the English countryside beyond.

Don't know the story of this cross on a hill in Alnmouth,
but it's very striking.

We drove a little farther north along the Coastal Route, a scenic network of highways that run along the northeast coastline of England, until we came to the turnoff for The Holy Island of Lindisfarne. 

A few people--namely the receptionist at my chiropractor's office--have told us that we should go to Lindisfarne. There's a castle, and a priory, and a village, and a tidal causeway that's only passable at low tide...and is famous for stranding over-confident tourists and locals alike. 

When we arrived at the causeway, cars were lined up, waiting to cross. I hopped out of the car to read the posted sign of the tidal schedule and crossing times. Why did I bother? I should know by now that posted rules and regulations mean less than nothing to Mike. 

The sign said we could safely cross at 2:40pm. It was 1:50pm. What we thought was an ambulance, but actually turned out to be a refrigerated fresh-seafood-from-Scotland truck, was the first to cross. Then other trucks and SUVs--vehicles with high suspensions--started crossing successfully. 

Mike inched our car to the front of the line, front tires resting in the receding water. It was receding fast, too! As we sat there, it must have gone out another 10 feet just 15 minutes, while I bought chocolate-covered vanilla pops from an ice cream truck.

It looks cold, but it was actually quite warm, but windy.

Parked at the waterline, Mike considers making a break for it.

Trusty camera at our side, we of course filmed our crossing, complete with Mike saying he's teaching the kids how to have an adventure, and me being nervous and asking, "Did we make it?" (hello, if I can ask that question, I guess we did!)...it's dorky, but here it is...




Wow! Lindisfarne. Stunning. There's no other word. This is definitely one of the places we will bring family and friends when they come visit. We parked the car, as it's a pedestrian-only village, and started walking. It was windy, but warm and sunny. What a gorgeous day to be in such a picture-postcard setting.

As we stood on the grassy bank of this U-shaped rocky harbor, I said to Mike the 360-degree view was just surreal. At 11:00, the Lindisfarne Castle (you can see it in the distance); at 12:00, this gently lapping harbor of teal-blue water with fishing boats bobbing about and our boys pitching smooth stones into the water; at 4:00, the ruins of the ancient priory; at 7:00, the quaint village with row houses and shops and roses in bloom; and from 8:00 to 11:00, greener-than-possible fields, herds of sheep, and low rock walls. Everywhere you looked was something impossible. 

We walked up to the castle gate, but realized that we didn't have our National Trust Membership Cards with us. (Because we are members, we could get into the castle for free WITH our cards; but without them it would have cost us about £25.00. So, we opted to skip the castle this time, and come back another time. 

Ollie at the Lindisfarne beach.

The boys found these painted rocks. Not sure who put
these here...?

Is there anything more English than a stacked-rock wall and field of sheep?

Mike and Merrit approaching Lindisfarne Castle.
We'll come back another day....