I have decided to pick up the strands of thought I left behind this summer, and continue with this blog, although the focus will obviously be different.
I like to write, and I like to travel, I like to taste, and I like to theorize.
Therefore, I propose to put some of my writing up here, and plans for adventures, and reviews of things I like, and theories about the thing that I care about most: What is religion, and what is its place in the development and life of man? I'll start today with beginning with a little bit of each.
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Writing Away:
Today, I submitted three poems and a creative essay to Rice Review (or R2), the literary magazine of Rice University. Next semester, my friend Travis (you can find his excellent pictorial blog here: http://withinthehedges.blogspot.com/) is hoping to start a news/opinion/literary magazine at Rice to rival the idiotic hipster-ish angst of the standard and the questionable quality of the Thresher (don't get me wrong—I love the Thresher, but there is a habit of bad writing). It will be called Rice Pudding. There is also a plan to emphasize the humanities students more, which I hope to get on board with.
Plans for adventures:
I miss England, especially Oxford-area and Cumbria, dreadfully. Those were some of the happiest weeks of my life, and I am so utterly grateful to those people who made it such an adventure. But, alas, there is so much of the world to see and I cannot spend my entire life squatting at James' house, hiking the lakes, drinking his grog, and beating his friends at Texas Hold'em. So, besides going back to Cumbria and doing just that, I have some plans for adventures ahead, some trips that I shall take before I die. Here are a few of them:
1. An icy trip to the North. To see the setting for Northern Paganism, Expeditious Bravery, and Philip Pullman's Imagination. I'd like to go to Norway, Iceland, Svalbard, and then take a boat up to the North Pole.
2. Hiking with a Bedouin in the Atlas Mountains. Hopefully I'll do this with James, someday. In the heat of summer, I'd like to start in Marrakech, and go Eastward through Morocco.
3. Trans-Siberian Railway journey. I'd like to stop at the main Russian cities, and see if I can find any villages with real live shamans, perhaps out of my way up in the really cold parts of Sibera.
4. A Horseback ride through the Alps. Like I'm running from a spectral pursuer, or delivering a message to a Gothic King, I want to ride from Northern Italy through ancient mountain passes to Switzerland, and then turn Southwest and end up in Monaco.
5. Finding my roots. I want to take a pilgrimage of sorts through the lands of my family's ancestors, through the Pyrenees with the Basques, to Normandy, to Germany to meet the Tiekens and Henkhaus' there, to England again, and research the records kept there.
6. The Danube on a boat. I'd like to take some companions and buy or rent a riverboat at the head waters of the Danube, and make our way to the Black Sea, where we'll sell it or turn around and head back. Eastern Europe here we come, the little Huck Finns of Hungary.
That's the major ones I have in mind. I wonder which will be first?
On Woody Allen:
I watched Woody Allen's Love and Death last night. My GOD, that was funny. I'm pretty sure that not many people would find it funny though. I've discovered that my sense of humor focuses on the absurd, whether it's absurdly stupid (with a tinge of class) like Monty Python, or absurdly smart, like Woody Allen and Groucho Marx. Perhaps that's why I like British comedy and generally am not a fan of modern American comedy. Brits focus on wit and absurdity, Americans focus on awkward situations and character flaws (not to mention flatulence and stereotypes). Woody Allen does both, in an unobtrusive way.
My class on Neo-Paganism has ended. It was a mild success, I feel like the students learned a lot, but since they were primarily my friends, we had a really hard time staying on topic. For the last class period we watched Noel Coward's Blithe Spirit which is a light comedy about ghosts and women and this one "hag-ridden" man. I also found that enormously funny.
Brideshead Re-Revisited
Tomorrow, I am doing a presentation in class about Evelyn Waugh's theories about the connection between sexuality and maturity and Roger Scruton's theories about sexuality and where the two intersect and disagree. I am bringing in my own conclusions about modern culture and the correlation between "constant revolution" and fear of permanence, and between the sexual liberation of the 60's and the fear of constraint, as I believe that certain passages in Brideshead Revisited point to an interesting conclusion of Waugh's that pre-dates, but somehow goes farther, than Roger Scruton does in his book Sexual Desire. Although I am not going to list my main points here, you are welcome to talk to me if you want to find out more about my "current epiphany" as my parents mockingly refer to these brief moments of clarity.
Anyway, that's the flavor that these will take hopefully as I move with you, O Reader, into the future. It might be a few days before I post another... It's finals-time at Rice, and with Christmas break (food, family, friends, and a fine-looking girl waiting patiently at home) on the horizon, it's hard to concentrate on Latin Translations and the social basis of Education. But, this hellish semester is drawing to a close, and I've learned my lesson... next semester, I'm taking fewer hours, dropping two majors (!), and no class is before eleven o'clock.
Huzzah.
~Ross Arlen~
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Home with the Armadillo
I'm back in Texas, and remembering how wonderful and hot it is here (those two are unrelated).
I had a great time at the Goddess conference, but I couldn't wait to get home. Now the issue is writing this massive paper with proper citations and references.
The Goddess people were very kind, I had some wonderful experiences, and maintained my academic distance. I met some spectacular people that I hope to stay in contact with, and will look forward to a continuing dialogue.
Overall, my experience in England was magnificent. I love England as much as one would love a second home. It never felt like a foreign country, and not because of the shared language -- just because it seemed like I had been waiting to be there my entire life.
Thank you to Focus Europe, my family, my girlfriend, and the communities and individuals in England that welcomed me into the fold.
~Ross Arlen~
I had a great time at the Goddess conference, but I couldn't wait to get home. Now the issue is writing this massive paper with proper citations and references.
The Goddess people were very kind, I had some wonderful experiences, and maintained my academic distance. I met some spectacular people that I hope to stay in contact with, and will look forward to a continuing dialogue.
Overall, my experience in England was magnificent. I love England as much as one would love a second home. It never felt like a foreign country, and not because of the shared language -- just because it seemed like I had been waiting to be there my entire life.
Thank you to Focus Europe, my family, my girlfriend, and the communities and individuals in England that welcomed me into the fold.
~Ross Arlen~
Friday, July 30, 2010
Long-Delayed Post.
So, where was I?
Ah, yes... Bath. Yes, I got to meet the archaeologists that work on the Roman Baths, and we had a great conversation about all kinds of stuff. They were extremely kind and very helpful. After Bath I went to Bristol, where I stayed with an excellent host and had some good times. I then met with Ronald Hutton for an hour, and I got along with him very well. He said just enough to really clear up my findings for me, which really helped with my research, as it was getting quite confusing. I stayed quite a while in Bristol, because my host was so great, but after a gigantic Texas Pork/Beef/Chicken barbecue, a hectic morning, and a stressful bus fiasco, I went to Wells, where the Wells Cathedral is, and spent the day exploring the town and trying in vain to find the archivist who had agreed to meet me about Joycelin de Wells, who the "History of the Welles Family in England" names as part of the family, but who was 1.) probably not Norman, and 2.) came from a different part of the country. So, complicated issues in family history. Anyway, the cathedral was amazing and although I refuse to put pictures up (it is unbelievably tedious on this website), my facebook has pictures of all of my adventures up to now.
After Wells, I stayed a day in Glastonbury, which was...interesting. Glastonbury is one of the strangest places I have ever been in my life. Magic shops line every street, bookstores hold subjects everywhere from yogic techno dancing to witchcraft and animal health. Anyway, more on that later.
I then decided to go into Cornwall, or die trying. I got to Plymouth the first day and spent some time wandering around the docks, and had a surprisingly emotional experience at the Mayflower steps, due to the dreary atmosphere and the very dignified memorial to the Pilgrim Fathers. I left the next morning with an English breakfast in my belly to go to Falmouth. It was a really beautiful if touristy town, with great art everywhere, great fish, great beaches (the hostel I stayed in was 100 meters from the largest beach), and a great Tudor castle. At the hostel, I also met some really nice fellow travellers; and we were having a funny conversation on the porch about accents and language, when we realized that there was a German, a Frenchwoman, two Swiss girls, a Texan, and an Englishman at the same table! Quite international, that conversation. The next day, I visited the castle (Penriddis) and had a great conversation with the girl who ran the castle shop, who advised me to go to Boscastle Witchcraft museum instead of trying to get to Glastonbury that day. So, instead of going all the way back to Plymouth (and then on to Glastonbury) with my charming new French companion, we separated at Truro and I headed to North Cornwall, which took longer than I thought! Not only that, but I got to Boscastle JUST in time to be admitted into the museum, which was amazing. Boscastle is really atmospheric, eerie, and beautiful. I could definitely live there. It seems like a good place to have a witchcraft museum.
But, I couldn't stay there for the night--the hostel was full. I had to go to nearby Tintagel, and thank God for the long English days, because Tintagel is beautiful. I went (long) after hours to Tintagel castle, and climbed to the amazing island, but the real treat was the hostel, which was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. As the sun set, I thought to myself, Cornwall has won me over. It was absolutely magnificent with the rugged coast and the little coves and the ancient buildings and the very low cell-phone service.
But, Tintagel is much farther from Glastonbury than I thought. It took me till almost six o'clock to get to Glastonbury, just in time for the opening ceremony of the Goddess conference.
The Goddess conference. I've had some good and clarifying conversations with many of the New Agers and Neo-Pagans here in Glastonbury, but the Goddess conference just beats all. I have to say I was a little scared by the opening ritual, but as I continue to participate (I'm not really doing any of the events today, as they are all self-help sorts of things, and that doesn't tell me anything except that there are a lot of women here), there are a lot of things that I feel very comfortable doing and thinking about.
More on the Goddess conference later. Suffice to say, Glastonbury is just a different place altogether.
Today, I am going to be working on my research and personal notes and perhaps perusing some more book stores, where I could spend hours and hundreds of dollars. But, to be honest, no matter how cynical a view I may take of some of the things here, I really love it here in Avalon.
Ah, yes... Bath. Yes, I got to meet the archaeologists that work on the Roman Baths, and we had a great conversation about all kinds of stuff. They were extremely kind and very helpful. After Bath I went to Bristol, where I stayed with an excellent host and had some good times. I then met with Ronald Hutton for an hour, and I got along with him very well. He said just enough to really clear up my findings for me, which really helped with my research, as it was getting quite confusing. I stayed quite a while in Bristol, because my host was so great, but after a gigantic Texas Pork/Beef/Chicken barbecue, a hectic morning, and a stressful bus fiasco, I went to Wells, where the Wells Cathedral is, and spent the day exploring the town and trying in vain to find the archivist who had agreed to meet me about Joycelin de Wells, who the "History of the Welles Family in England" names as part of the family, but who was 1.) probably not Norman, and 2.) came from a different part of the country. So, complicated issues in family history. Anyway, the cathedral was amazing and although I refuse to put pictures up (it is unbelievably tedious on this website), my facebook has pictures of all of my adventures up to now.
After Wells, I stayed a day in Glastonbury, which was...interesting. Glastonbury is one of the strangest places I have ever been in my life. Magic shops line every street, bookstores hold subjects everywhere from yogic techno dancing to witchcraft and animal health. Anyway, more on that later.
I then decided to go into Cornwall, or die trying. I got to Plymouth the first day and spent some time wandering around the docks, and had a surprisingly emotional experience at the Mayflower steps, due to the dreary atmosphere and the very dignified memorial to the Pilgrim Fathers. I left the next morning with an English breakfast in my belly to go to Falmouth. It was a really beautiful if touristy town, with great art everywhere, great fish, great beaches (the hostel I stayed in was 100 meters from the largest beach), and a great Tudor castle. At the hostel, I also met some really nice fellow travellers; and we were having a funny conversation on the porch about accents and language, when we realized that there was a German, a Frenchwoman, two Swiss girls, a Texan, and an Englishman at the same table! Quite international, that conversation. The next day, I visited the castle (Penriddis) and had a great conversation with the girl who ran the castle shop, who advised me to go to Boscastle Witchcraft museum instead of trying to get to Glastonbury that day. So, instead of going all the way back to Plymouth (and then on to Glastonbury) with my charming new French companion, we separated at Truro and I headed to North Cornwall, which took longer than I thought! Not only that, but I got to Boscastle JUST in time to be admitted into the museum, which was amazing. Boscastle is really atmospheric, eerie, and beautiful. I could definitely live there. It seems like a good place to have a witchcraft museum.
But, I couldn't stay there for the night--the hostel was full. I had to go to nearby Tintagel, and thank God for the long English days, because Tintagel is beautiful. I went (long) after hours to Tintagel castle, and climbed to the amazing island, but the real treat was the hostel, which was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. As the sun set, I thought to myself, Cornwall has won me over. It was absolutely magnificent with the rugged coast and the little coves and the ancient buildings and the very low cell-phone service.
But, Tintagel is much farther from Glastonbury than I thought. It took me till almost six o'clock to get to Glastonbury, just in time for the opening ceremony of the Goddess conference.
The Goddess conference. I've had some good and clarifying conversations with many of the New Agers and Neo-Pagans here in Glastonbury, but the Goddess conference just beats all. I have to say I was a little scared by the opening ritual, but as I continue to participate (I'm not really doing any of the events today, as they are all self-help sorts of things, and that doesn't tell me anything except that there are a lot of women here), there are a lot of things that I feel very comfortable doing and thinking about.
More on the Goddess conference later. Suffice to say, Glastonbury is just a different place altogether.
Today, I am going to be working on my research and personal notes and perhaps perusing some more book stores, where I could spend hours and hundreds of dollars. But, to be honest, no matter how cynical a view I may take of some of the things here, I really love it here in Avalon.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Splish Splash Bath
Bath is a tourist hotspot. I have met more Americans in the last two days than I have the entire rest of my trip. Don't get me wrong -- it's nice to hear 'bar' for once instead of 'pub,' but I am in England and I didn't expect anyone I met to say "skeedaddlin'" until I got home. I met a movie producer from South Carolina who had a helicopter crash and decided to go to England while they were repairing it. He was really interested in my research and he had some frightening stories about escapades with strange people in the deep bayous of Louisiana. Then I met a group of girls coming to the hostel where I'm staying that are from Texas State! Of course, none of them are from Texas (no Twang available). Then this morning at a nice Tea Room I met someone from Northern Michigan that raises bucking bulls for rodeos. Okay.
I've been trying to squeeze Bath like a sponge, and my wallet unfortunately reflects that fact today. I've been on the Bath Abbey tour, on the Roman Bath tour, on the Jane Austen Center tour. I've been to four different pubs, tea rooms, and pasty shops. I'm going back to the Baths later tonight when they light it up with torches. Plus, a 10 pound note dropped out of my pocket. Alas!
However, I have been talking to people an unusual amount even for myself, and I am about to meet the site administrator for the Roman Baths to talk more in-depth about the religion at the Bath temple, at the reccommendation of the tour guide yesterday. He said that she might even take me on a personal tour of the tunnels under the sacred spring. Let's see how charming I can be.
I'm staying at a hostel again tonight, but I'm tiring of the wierd shopping culture at Bath. I might go to Bristol sometime soon. Ronald Hutton has agreed to meet with me on Tuesday (for an hour), so I'm naturally excited about that as well. TTFN.
I've been trying to squeeze Bath like a sponge, and my wallet unfortunately reflects that fact today. I've been on the Bath Abbey tour, on the Roman Bath tour, on the Jane Austen Center tour. I've been to four different pubs, tea rooms, and pasty shops. I'm going back to the Baths later tonight when they light it up with torches. Plus, a 10 pound note dropped out of my pocket. Alas!
However, I have been talking to people an unusual amount even for myself, and I am about to meet the site administrator for the Roman Baths to talk more in-depth about the religion at the Bath temple, at the reccommendation of the tour guide yesterday. He said that she might even take me on a personal tour of the tunnels under the sacred spring. Let's see how charming I can be.
I'm staying at a hostel again tonight, but I'm tiring of the wierd shopping culture at Bath. I might go to Bristol sometime soon. Ronald Hutton has agreed to meet with me on Tuesday (for an hour), so I'm naturally excited about that as well. TTFN.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Where I am in mind, spirit, body.
There is no easy answer to the question referred to above. Let's work backwards, shall we?
Bodily I am in Bath. Not the hot relaxing cleaning time at the end of a day walking in the rain, but the city: Bath Spa. I made it here last night after missing my bus to Bristol. Let me explain.
I last left you, oh fair readers, in the mountains of Cumbria. Well, to make short a story that could be quite long, suffice to say that my new friend James had a Couchsurfer coming on Wednesday. I didn't want to be a burden to his excellent hospitality any longer, AND I wanted to get to London to see the Harry Potter premiere. However, on the 12th, after looking online for an hour hoping to buy an advance ticket, I found that I had misinformed by two people, completely separately from each other, that Harry Potter was indeed premiering on July 14th in London. After reviewing the mistake, I found that they had confused July 14th 2010 with July 14th 2011, when the second installment of the last part was to be premiered in London. The first installment premieres November 19th.
So I had now purchased a ticket to London for no reason. What's more, I had been waiting for the number of 'the London contact' for a few days now, and had still not recieved the message. James offered to drive me to Newcastle and to spend the day around Hadrian's wall, which was excellent. We apparently can't go anywhere without hiking! I got on my bus and on the 8-hour drive I tried to arrange a place for me to stay and was successful, thanks to my wonderful teacher and her son. I got to London at 10:30 pm and after navigating the metro, finally got to his house at around 11:45. We stayed up talking for a while, because he is really an incredible guy. The problem was, his parents-in-law (also incredibly nice) were coming the next day, so I decided to book a ticket to Bristol, which was the next place I was going anyway. The next morning, I met his lovely wife (named the same as my girlfriend, so it got confusing when we were talking about it!), and his beautiful daughter. But I left at around five for Victoria station, hoping to get to Bristol in time to sort out a bed and breakfast before eight.
It was not to be. I got to the station just in time for my bus to leave. When I tried to get on it, however, another family went out with me and made it to the ticket man before me. He looked at her ticket and said, "Sorry, it's a funfare...I can't let you board yet." Well, mine was a funfare, too! I went inside and it was already past the time for the bus to leave, then the time changed to thirty minutes after. Apparently it was delayed. Oh well, I thought, I'll get a pasty and wait here. So I waited only to find out after I got in the line for the already late bus that my ticket was invalid--I had missed my bus! Not only that, but I had to buy another ticket! And it was going to be a full hour later! Turns out that the family was asking if she could board early for the next bus. A legitimate but frustrating mistake on my part.
Well, I thought, how in the world am I going to get accomodation in Bristol this late for a reasonable price? A couchsurfer had given me his number in Bath in case of an emergency situation (he already had a surfer), and at this point, there was no way I could find a place to stay at that late for any less than £70. So I called him, and he said it was fine, gave me directions, etc. Go to Bristol train station, get on a train to Bath, and a bus to the University.
When I got to Bristol it was 10:20. All buses had stopped running to the train station, and both the cab drivers and the bus drivers told me that trains had stopped running to Bath anyway. There was a bus leaving at 11:00 for Bath, so I got on that. But I didn't get to Bath in time to catch a bus to the University, so I had to hire a cab. I got there at 12:10, then slept on the floor of his flat.
So, in spirit, I'm a bit down right now. I've got a ton of aches and cricks and I'm tired of lugging the backpack around. I'm probably staying at a backpacker's hostel tonight in Bath.
Not only that, but Ronald Hutton is not in Bristol right now, and I might not get to meet personally with him at all -- it might have to wait for Skype, like Roger Griffin. Well, this library computer is £3.60 an hour, so I probably should go. I'll upload pics from Hadrian's wall later and also inform you about the state of my research (mind). I want to go visit the Roman buildings around Bath (excited!), that will surely cheer me up. Maybe there's even a Mithraeum! We'll see.
Ross
Bodily I am in Bath. Not the hot relaxing cleaning time at the end of a day walking in the rain, but the city: Bath Spa. I made it here last night after missing my bus to Bristol. Let me explain.
I last left you, oh fair readers, in the mountains of Cumbria. Well, to make short a story that could be quite long, suffice to say that my new friend James had a Couchsurfer coming on Wednesday. I didn't want to be a burden to his excellent hospitality any longer, AND I wanted to get to London to see the Harry Potter premiere. However, on the 12th, after looking online for an hour hoping to buy an advance ticket, I found that I had misinformed by two people, completely separately from each other, that Harry Potter was indeed premiering on July 14th in London. After reviewing the mistake, I found that they had confused July 14th 2010 with July 14th 2011, when the second installment of the last part was to be premiered in London. The first installment premieres November 19th.
So I had now purchased a ticket to London for no reason. What's more, I had been waiting for the number of 'the London contact' for a few days now, and had still not recieved the message. James offered to drive me to Newcastle and to spend the day around Hadrian's wall, which was excellent. We apparently can't go anywhere without hiking! I got on my bus and on the 8-hour drive I tried to arrange a place for me to stay and was successful, thanks to my wonderful teacher and her son. I got to London at 10:30 pm and after navigating the metro, finally got to his house at around 11:45. We stayed up talking for a while, because he is really an incredible guy. The problem was, his parents-in-law (also incredibly nice) were coming the next day, so I decided to book a ticket to Bristol, which was the next place I was going anyway. The next morning, I met his lovely wife (named the same as my girlfriend, so it got confusing when we were talking about it!), and his beautiful daughter. But I left at around five for Victoria station, hoping to get to Bristol in time to sort out a bed and breakfast before eight.
It was not to be. I got to the station just in time for my bus to leave. When I tried to get on it, however, another family went out with me and made it to the ticket man before me. He looked at her ticket and said, "Sorry, it's a funfare...I can't let you board yet." Well, mine was a funfare, too! I went inside and it was already past the time for the bus to leave, then the time changed to thirty minutes after. Apparently it was delayed. Oh well, I thought, I'll get a pasty and wait here. So I waited only to find out after I got in the line for the already late bus that my ticket was invalid--I had missed my bus! Not only that, but I had to buy another ticket! And it was going to be a full hour later! Turns out that the family was asking if she could board early for the next bus. A legitimate but frustrating mistake on my part.
Well, I thought, how in the world am I going to get accomodation in Bristol this late for a reasonable price? A couchsurfer had given me his number in Bath in case of an emergency situation (he already had a surfer), and at this point, there was no way I could find a place to stay at that late for any less than £70. So I called him, and he said it was fine, gave me directions, etc. Go to Bristol train station, get on a train to Bath, and a bus to the University.
When I got to Bristol it was 10:20. All buses had stopped running to the train station, and both the cab drivers and the bus drivers told me that trains had stopped running to Bath anyway. There was a bus leaving at 11:00 for Bath, so I got on that. But I didn't get to Bath in time to catch a bus to the University, so I had to hire a cab. I got there at 12:10, then slept on the floor of his flat.
So, in spirit, I'm a bit down right now. I've got a ton of aches and cricks and I'm tired of lugging the backpack around. I'm probably staying at a backpacker's hostel tonight in Bath.
Not only that, but Ronald Hutton is not in Bristol right now, and I might not get to meet personally with him at all -- it might have to wait for Skype, like Roger Griffin. Well, this library computer is £3.60 an hour, so I probably should go. I'll upload pics from Hadrian's wall later and also inform you about the state of my research (mind). I want to go visit the Roman buildings around Bath (excited!), that will surely cheer me up. Maybe there's even a Mithraeum! We'll see.
Ross
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Bilberry Fields
Today, after a huge Texas breakfast (crunchy bacon and fried eggs in the bacon grease, which James has renamed 'heart attack'), James and I decided that rather than laze around the house until the Sunday poker game, why not go for a "stroll," intead? Well, as you can imagine, the stroll soon turned into a full-scale excursion.
We first went t a small hill that James had often seen when he went running in this particular valley, in a place called Ennerdale. We got over the hill, tramping huffily throught the bracken, and admired the view. Then, we looked up—there was a gigantic, imposing hill right across the stream in the dip of the valley. We decided to skip the hill and instead head up the rock face. But that was only after eating from bilberry bushes. They're almost exactly like blueberries, except wild, smaller and sweeter. We munched on those delicious things for a while, and then followed a small new looking stream up to its source. When we got to the spring, you could hear it under the rocks trickling. The sound was incredible. Onwards!
We soon discovered that the hill was much larger than we had first thought. The climbing was excellent! Imagine climbing almost sheer rock faces, gripping spots where the mountain bleeds clear spring water, sprouting black spongy moss, which makes it hard to hold onto! As we struggled up the cliff, and finally reached the top of the first face, we let out a whoop and it echoed across the valley. The view was beautiful, but it was the climb that made it so worthwhile. It was truly challenging. Then, after a rest and bilberries, we made the ascent to the second face, through the scree (loose rock and rubble) that made it extremely difficult to get to the top. Finally we reached the base, and up we went. There was one point where we lost sight of each other due to climbing two different faces, and when I got to the top, James wasn't there! I feared the worst and called his name. He didn't answer, and I almost panicked. I knew that he was an experienced climber, but anything can happen! I slid down a grassy stream bed, still calling out, but I heard no reply. When I had reached the bottom again, I still saw or heard nothing. So up I went again, this time up an easier face, panicked and out of breath. Finally, I saw him. Turns out the wind had been carrying my voice to him, but his voice was lost to the wind. We had been chasing each other around the same face for 15 panicked minutes! Any tourist with binoculars would have thought we were cartoon characters.
After resting our panic, we finally climbed to the summit. What a sight! I could see Scotland, the North Sea, and the Isle of Man from where I stood (it only came out so-so in pictures). We had landed ourselves in a high bog, and James stepped in a nasty rotting swamp-hole, but it was worth it as we ascended to the high cairn and admired our incredible climb. We then walked down the mountain ridge and then through a bracken slope into a small pine forest, and followed that to the path that led us back to the car. Finished the night off with an unsuccesful but fun game of Hold'em.
Anyway, I was misinformed (by two separate people, no less!) about the Harry Potter premiere. But the ticket has already been purchased, and on Monday we are travelling to Hadrian's wall and then on to Newcastle, where I will catch a train to London. What will I do in London? Beats me. I'm going to be skipping Scotland this trip, unfortunately. It's just that, well... I love England. After London, I'm going to Cornwall! Can't wait for that.
Here are the pictures from today's climb.
We first went t a small hill that James had often seen when he went running in this particular valley, in a place called Ennerdale. We got over the hill, tramping huffily throught the bracken, and admired the view. Then, we looked up—there was a gigantic, imposing hill right across the stream in the dip of the valley. We decided to skip the hill and instead head up the rock face. But that was only after eating from bilberry bushes. They're almost exactly like blueberries, except wild, smaller and sweeter. We munched on those delicious things for a while, and then followed a small new looking stream up to its source. When we got to the spring, you could hear it under the rocks trickling. The sound was incredible. Onwards!
We soon discovered that the hill was much larger than we had first thought. The climbing was excellent! Imagine climbing almost sheer rock faces, gripping spots where the mountain bleeds clear spring water, sprouting black spongy moss, which makes it hard to hold onto! As we struggled up the cliff, and finally reached the top of the first face, we let out a whoop and it echoed across the valley. The view was beautiful, but it was the climb that made it so worthwhile. It was truly challenging. Then, after a rest and bilberries, we made the ascent to the second face, through the scree (loose rock and rubble) that made it extremely difficult to get to the top. Finally we reached the base, and up we went. There was one point where we lost sight of each other due to climbing two different faces, and when I got to the top, James wasn't there! I feared the worst and called his name. He didn't answer, and I almost panicked. I knew that he was an experienced climber, but anything can happen! I slid down a grassy stream bed, still calling out, but I heard no reply. When I had reached the bottom again, I still saw or heard nothing. So up I went again, this time up an easier face, panicked and out of breath. Finally, I saw him. Turns out the wind had been carrying my voice to him, but his voice was lost to the wind. We had been chasing each other around the same face for 15 panicked minutes! Any tourist with binoculars would have thought we were cartoon characters.
After resting our panic, we finally climbed to the summit. What a sight! I could see Scotland, the North Sea, and the Isle of Man from where I stood (it only came out so-so in pictures). We had landed ourselves in a high bog, and James stepped in a nasty rotting swamp-hole, but it was worth it as we ascended to the high cairn and admired our incredible climb. We then walked down the mountain ridge and then through a bracken slope into a small pine forest, and followed that to the path that led us back to the car. Finished the night off with an unsuccesful but fun game of Hold'em.
Anyway, I was misinformed (by two separate people, no less!) about the Harry Potter premiere. But the ticket has already been purchased, and on Monday we are travelling to Hadrian's wall and then on to Newcastle, where I will catch a train to London. What will I do in London? Beats me. I'm going to be skipping Scotland this trip, unfortunately. It's just that, well... I love England. After London, I'm going to Cornwall! Can't wait for that.
Here are the pictures from today's climb.
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