Tag: Northumberland

Time and a place

There are planned moments in life that fall into place and make you sigh happily.

There are other times that creep up on you, making you abandon all worries as you laugh unreservedly and giddy. 

Today I experienced both.

I have a brother who lives 270 miles away and due to covid it has been a rare blessing to see him and his family. Due to home and work commitments it is hard to spare the 3-4 days needed for a proper catch up and time needed to spend with my beautiful nieces. They are growing so fast. I can still see them both as babies in my arms and yet somehow they are 8 and nearly 4 years of age. 

As we travelled to Northumberland today, Alnwick to start, we found a unique opportunity to spend some stolen hours together. The sneaky one and I spoke briefly during the week about how it could work and a loose plan was set. 

On this trip we have brought my dad and his partner, Pat, sharing a place this special to us with our loved ones is half the experience this time. To sneak my brother and his family into the mix would mean a lot to them both. 

We started the day at 5am, car packed and raring to go. By the 100th game of ‘guess the song, its singer/band and year of release’ we had waved hello to the Angel of the North and counted down the last few miles to stop number one. Alnwick has so very much to offer and we had to cram the highlights in in just 7 hours. First up, shopping! The town is so pretty and had plenty of charity shops piled high with books to please my dad’s literary eye. There was even a craft market that took their fancy and a passing puppy that took mine. With lunch on the horizon we made our way into the grounds of Alnwick castle and after a quick sandwich break it was onto the next stop: crazy golf! It’s called the Forgotten Garden and transports your mind back to the ‘Honey I shrunk the kids’ movie. Among the beautiful plants and tall trees there are huge sculptures of bugs. A giant, lazy earthworm, two flapping winged bees atop a hive and a very naughty spider. At £4 a person it was an absolute delight and I’m imploring you to go if you ever visit Alnwick. In fact, here’s the link: https://www.alnwickgarden.com/families/golf/

I don’t get anything for sharing the link apart from the knowledge that it helps you and spreads the joy of this place. I’m sure I was distracted by the impending suprise arrival of the family that I came last, yes of course that’s why, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Unfortunately they were held up finding a car park and I wondered how to play the part of an aloof distraction. However, help in the form of ice cream arrived and I spent way too long eating a small tub of banoffee ice cream that I think Mr W at least suspected something was afoot. 

The plan was for Mr W and I to go our own way for a few hours while our ‘guests’ visited the castle. Starring as the backdrop in the first two Harry Potter films the castle is a must visit to all Hogwarts fans. But where was my brother? Heaven sent me another saving grace in the form of rain and we took shelter under a tree. I took the opportunity to ask Mr W to take some photos buying me more time as the sneaky one raced her family through the castle to our location. Swapping places with Mr W I was able to click away as my brother snuck up behind my dad and the surprise was unleashed. 

It’s a happy blur that my tired brain will no doubt let me visit again after a deep night’s sleep. But my niece raced at me with hugs and we all stood beneath the tree sheltering from the rain and in each other’s arms. Happy sighs cascaded from our mouths as the rain fell from above and encased us under the tree and in the moments glow. 

Happy sighs. 

Splitting up for a brief while Mr W and I turned back to spend some time in Alnwick Gardens. Expecting rows of roses, lines of lupins and tamed topiary I found myself proven very wrong indeed. Taking up a huge amount of the garden is an absolutely enormous multi-levelled fountain that screamed ITALY so loudly I could practically smell the pizza, pasta and prosecco. But no, we are in the North-East of England. After a quick cuppa, we head on a tour of the poison garden, through beautiful crafted tunnels of hornbeam that reach 15ft into the air and create a nest of green away from the heat of the day and into the stunning ornamental gardens. We follow the streams that bubble over pebbles down the staggered steps towards a curving cascade of bushes that create a serpentine maze that hugs individual illuminating water features. Made of metal they gleam like highly polished mirrors in the 3pm sun. It all became clear, whilst sipping my tea I saw a young boy of 8 or 9 in trunks with a towel about his shoulders. These water features are to be engaged with. To be seen, touched and enjoyed. We make our way around them, casually reaching out fingertips to touch the cool water on the humid day. They are fascinating. Mr W sends cascades of water my way. I flicked it back. We take pictures in the reflections. We laugh. We are giddy. 

Happy again, this time in a moment of child-like innocence. Pure and free from all adult concerns. Nose dripping from the water falling from my forehead and hair, we return to our family and feel a million miles from home and yet closer to our sense of being than we have in a very long time. 

7 billion reasons

One of the very first memories I have of travelling is looking out at the landscape of Europe from the plane window. I was flying to Greece. I was 10 years old. I had never seen something so beautiful before. Mountain pathways strewn through rocky scenes like arteries and pockets of forests dotted around as if dropped by the heavens above. Every time I have flown since, I try to wrangle the window seat. Ignoring the fact I am too shy to make small talk with strangers and don’t like to invade or have anyone invade my personal space, HELLO ANXIETY! I secretly covet this window into a world where you can see a scene that cannot be replicated. Each time you fly over the world it changes depending on season, time or frame of mind. The colours, the feelings, the awe. It has soothed me in times of great anxiousness and taken me out of my body to the pathways below. At times I feel like I am a fly on the wall of the tiny villages scattered below. How do those people live? Do they have worries like me? Are our worries different entirely?

The villages are so tiny, and accessed by the smallest of roads and highest of mountains, where do they go for their food? What happens if they fall ill? Does that make the worries I have trivial to these people?  

There is something about soaring above the world that makes me calm enough to let go of my worries, it opens up my eyes to the 7 billion people on the planet and the simple fact that I can’t be the only person with worries and anxieties. That in itself makes me realise I can handle it, because everyone else is. With love, friendship and a step outside my own anxieties once in a while. A lot of the time anxiety is described as being something you ‘suffer’ but it often strikes me that by changing our mindset to anxiety being something we ‘live with’ means we take control. We can stumble along our own mountain roads without too much fear and become used to the steep drops that appear along the way.

To the moon my friend. Imagine how much our eyes would see from there!

This is a relaunch of Framework Travel. A relaunch of who I can be. Who I want to be. What this blog can do to reach, help and inspire people.

Recently my anxiety has taken over my life. And something needs to change. More than ever I’ve felt my flight or fight kick in and for the first time ever I can’t fly. I can’t look down from that window and ignore my issues. The only thing I can do is come at it from a different perspective. If not from above, from within. 

So along with my very skilled photographer husband, we are relaunching Framework Travel as something personal, in which we will discuss our anxieties over covid, struggles with our health and fitness, fertility matters and ALOT of travel. 

We have in the last 18 months experienced a whole other way of travelling. And this year will involve more of that. We’ve embraced sustainable practices even more recently in and outside our home, and will be incorporating as much of this into our future travels. First up is a long weekend break in Northumberland in June, somewhere we’ve been twice before (both in 2021), but absolutely adore! Next up, *breathe* is a 16 day trip to the Scottish highlands along the NC500. We will be driving the entire route in our hybrid car and seeing how far we can stretch the almighty english pound. This will include extreme budgeting when it comes to accommodation, food and activities. With a very few luxuries thrown in for good measure, we are celebrating our wedding anniversary after all, we will be sharing everything we do and spend with you. Including what we pack! 

There are over 7 billion people in this world and if I can inspire and help others, my anxieties will seemingly melt away. I’ll be able to climb those mountains and traverse the highest, steepest paths home and maybe someone, up in the clouds, watching out of their plane window will feel some kind of respite from their own demons.

Are we the virus?

“Take only memories, leave only footprints.” – Chief Seattle

It will always be apparent to the travellers of this world, that a photo can only tell you so much about a place. You see idyllic beaches in the Caribbean, pure white sand and crystal clear waters. It may shock you when you visit that the odd plastic bottle or crisp packet ruins your expectation. In many places, there are staff that go to the beaches at ungodly hours and rake up the debris from the surfs kiss upon the shore. We see all too often the capabilities of people on this planet. 

During lockdown in England, there were unprecedented numbers of visitors to beaches and parks. Not having to be at work and the fantastic sunshine that shone during the months of May and June in 2020, saw the restrictions of meeting outside well and truly met. The carnage left behind was devastating. Tonnes of litter left behind like never before. It was like the earth had had its breather while we were locked away in doors and this was our chance to do double the damage. 

There have been several news items in recent years about how overrun tourists spots have been in the UK since 2020. When lifting restrictions meant we could exercise outside for an hour daily, Snowden was overrun despite many people living more than an hour away. It was a clear example of give and inch and take a mile. 

Even now, in 2022, there are articles about the UK experiencing its highest level of domestic tourism for decades. We are two people who never really travelled the UK, before covid, I will put my hands up to that. If it weren’t for all the confusion about what country needs what test and form wise, I’m sure we would have planned a trip abroad. There is also the highly stressful experience of having to cancel and rebook a trip in 2020. (See my ‘Reclaming a sunset’ blog.) I’m grateful in a way to how much our travel perspective has changed. We always used to lean towards city breaks, with the vast cacophony of noises, people and culture, we thought we were getting all that place had to give. It wasn’t until we took a trip to Edinburgh and Northumberland in late 2021 that our vision was altered. We spent two days wandering to waterfalls and hiking the hills and we found rewards like we hadn’t before. The peace of it all, the personal pride of achieving new feats of exertion and the slower pace that we needed to heal.

Being in Northumberland felt like we were the first to discover new areas, the forests were empty and the hills were silent. None of this overrun business. And yet there was a time that all had to change. As I said, our tastes have changed, and I’m not saying we’d never been to the countryside, but given the choice we’d choose a day in London over hiking. Now it’s more, let’s get into the city at 5am, see it at its emptiest and leave by noon. Venice taught us that a city is at its most beautiful without its crowds. We’d done it before in London, purely from a photography point of view, but there is something in being the only one wandering the Thames at sunrise. 

This past weekend we went to a local forest to see the blooming bluebells. Despite their annual appearance this was my first time seeing their exuberance in such an enormous way. Walking amongst them felt like being in a dreamscape. The colours, the life and the sheer volume of nature’s power screamed out in the silence of the forest. I noticed that several paths had been trodden through the bluebells, their stamped on stems laying squashed underfoot, it was a big shame. When we returned to the car parks, I noticed a lot of signs asking people to keep to the pathways to avoid ruining the plants. It made me sad. 

Returning to Northumberland this year is a big deal for us, we just don’t do it. How can you see the world if you return to the same place twice? We have a select few places we’ll return to out of comfort and it seems Northumberland is one of those for the time being. It is one of those places that when you find one of its hidden secrets, it whispers to you another one. 

On the coast, and our first taste of Northumberland, stands Bamburgh Castle. Surprisingly, in early August it was unexpectedly quiet. We parked without problem, and walked the beach without disturbing towels or sandcastles. It’s been said this week that Bamburgh is 2022’s most visited UK town. We’re trendsetters don’t-cha-know! 

With its absolutely enormous beach and stunning castle backdrop it comes as no surprise. 

However, locals have found the sudden infamy problematic. Vehicles parked up on grass verges due to car parks hitting their capacity, litter and disruption not far behind. It’s certainly a turn of events, but not one that can cause shock. It’s saddening for sure. But shocking? No. I’m sure there are people that profit from such large numbers of tourists, it isn’t all bad, it never is, since when did news articles give both sides of the story. 

It would be wise to remember the world continued turning, the oceans continued crashing to the clean shores and the bluebells thrived during lockdown. We are the virus the world does not need, these beautiful places are a gift and should be treated as such. If we wish to arrive in paradise we need to do our bit. Pick up our litter. Stick to the path. Take only memories. And if you should leave footprints, be respectful of what’s underfoot. Paradise takes a lifetime to build and only moments to disappear. 

Well, wasn’t that a cheerful post, come back next time for something lighter! 

A hop, skip and a fracture.

It’s 10:40pm.

Outside, the only light on the street is from the moon reflecting its light off the clouds. The occasional car drives past. After six years of living here I’ve gotten used to them gliding across the tarmac. The birds are tweeting in the trees and I can’t get used to it. Yes that’s right, 10:42pm, and the birds aren’t asleep. And do you know why?

Because they are home! 

They have nests to maintain. Mouths to feed. Worms to forage. Water to source. Sunlight to chase. 

When they migrate you can imagine a more peaceful night. Food on tap. No responsibilities. Just away. No cares. 

And here I am doing just that. I’m home. It’s bedtime. Mr W is infuriatingly fast to fall asleep and I’m sitting up reading. Reading a book that has no real value, but gives me enough escapism to deaden my mind to sleep. Except it doesn’t work, I’m thinking about washing and work, food shopping and chores, gardening and social calendars. Cats. Birthdays. Trips. 

Trips. Trips. Trips. 

Where I find a plethora of other lists of things to do. 

Hiking. Wild swimming. Exploring. Seeking. Finding. Napping. Snacking. Living. 

I’ll put my hand up for the first time, hey let’s put both up, and shout… ahem…

I was wrong! I was so wrong in fact I’m going to make triple-y sure I was wrong. 

So, as bad as it sounds, my total number of trips in the UK for 32 years amounted to family trips to the Norfolk Broads and a long weekend in both Cornwall and Somerset. Ta-da! Ignore day trips to London, it’s 34 miles away, just doesn’t count in my book. 

Lockdown forced us to rethink flying, and other than our rebooked trip to Italy in Sept 2020, we stayed in the UK. We managed a long weekend in Edinburgh and Northumberland and then… we… returned to Northumberland for 3 days just one month later. 

Now these dots… you see… right there are put there for dramatic effect. For you see ladies and gentiles, I do not return to a place unless it has captured a piece of my whole actual being. 

There are few places that have done so, not being funny, once I’ve decided I’m going somewhere I GO ALL OUT, I’m seeing everything it has to offer, who knows if I’ll be able to go back? Why would I want to take the risk? So when Mr W and I decided to return to Northumberland one month after our first visit I was shaken. (And we’re going back in June 2022. Oops) 

You know what this amazing place did? It shocked me. First it’s in the UK, yep, and there’s me never bothering with home travel because, well I need a plane to call it a holiday. Unless I’m going up in the air, I’m still home, I’m in England, I don’t wanna be where I was born and bred! I wanna be right over there! Across the water, over mountain passes, tray table up, no peanuts. 

Second, I don’t hike, I don’t scramble, I don’t wander. But you will have caught me scramble down a rocky waterfall on my arse, dirty, soaked through and smiling. Laughing. Happy.

Not a shop in sight. No selfie stick welding tourists. Not even a car park destination. Just a field and a slight path trodden into a boggy hill. 

And I tell you this, I’ve never felt more awake to the possibilities. 

Northumberland has wonders even the locals don’t know about. Take Crammel Linn for example. A colossal cascade of water over a dark deep pool of water. The noise is enormous and an assault of the ears. But let’s not start there. Let’s start with finding this place. There are no signs, our B&B lady had never heard of it and its starting point is on MOD (ministry of defence, I’m sure you knew that but I didn’t up until 3 years ago, eep) land. Great start!

We find ourselves driving through winding lanes and across a beautiful bridge and then onto seemingly nowhere. I find the sign for MOD land and know it’s somewhere close. The only hint that we are in the right place is an old wooden sign pointing down a sloping field. We don our hiking boots, I would live in these bad boys if they didn’t scream MUUUUUD, and we take the first steps into the boggy wetland that is the path. There’s the odd plank of wood submerged in the watery, mossy ground, and I pray we aren’t in the wrong place. It is windy, no, that’s the wrong word, an invisible wrestler is pushing me back to the car and for good measure he has a misting spray levelled at my face. It is blindingly ferocious weather and yet we trudge on. We will see this waterfall. We will endeavour. And then, my arse falls out. We’ve reached what can only be described as the rockiest steep drop off I’ve ever seen. It’s an open field, the fence is at the bottom of the slope ahead and it’s wet. The rocks jutting out are threatening to gouge my legs apart and the fence has barbed wire. Mr W goes first and he leads me down. After several hundred ‘I can’t do’ moments we reach the fence. It takes me another 10 minutes to climb over the stile, which, I shit you not shook like a defecating dog and being on a slope was vastly different heights on either side. I’m 5ft5 and yet standing on that stile looking down I was an uncomfortable 7ft5! Did I mention there was barbed wire running along the top too? Honestly you couldn’t make this up. So, off the stile, onto a single foot track running beside the fence and a steep slope leading into an abyss of bramble and bushes. Lovely. But what is that I hear? Through the wind, I hear a cataclysmic sound of falling water. Before we can see the waterfall it’s just a hop, skip and a fracture down an even dodgier zig zag of a slope mounted with loose soil, large slippery rocks and nothing to hold onto. My god, what a journey! 

And then there it was. One of nature’s gifts to the world. A crash of water against water. A huge monolith of stone at the mercy of the rushing river. Once my legs retained their blood flow, we sat down and raided the trusty backpack for supplies. I couldn’t tell you what we ate, but it was likely crisps, water and some kind of sugar sent from heaven to keep my body from crumpling. 

As we sat there, the weather changed and the glorious Northumberland sun shone for us. A robin danced in the shadows and I was swept away by the solitude of the moment. 

I wasn’t thinking of washing or work, food shopping or chores, gardening or social calendars. I wasn’t thinking of much, my mind for the first time since before the pandemic had found peace. It turns out to drown out the noise of your daily life, you just need to find a louder noise. The wind, the rain and the waterfall. My daily life never really stood a chance. We sat until our bodies warmed slightly in the sun and then said our goodbyes. It was a special moment; our first UK waterfall! 

I listen now to the birds in the trees, and realise we aren’t so different. When it’s time to switch our minds off, we just need a new environment, a crazy adventure and somewhere else to call home. Even if it’s just for an hour in the lap of a waterfall. 

Photo taken by me at Crammel Linn, Northumberland. 

Please find other photos on Instragam @frameworktravel