Tag: sunshine

Hindhope Linn

If for anything else, please go to Northumberland for the waterfalls. I’ve linked my previous encounters with Northumberland waterfalls below. 

I’ve been to four so far and each one holds its own personal charm. 

Today’s one felt particularly special.

Like this post will end up, the walk to Hindhope Linn is short. 

You start your journey in a vehicle of your choice, car, bus, tractor… at Kielder Castle visitor centre. As long as it can handle hills and a bumpy ride you’ll be sorted! It’s a great spot to start from as it has a bank of not too shabby toilets and a pub should you fancy a quick drink. From here you’ll find the 12 mile Forest Drive toll road. There is a cash only toll payment machine as you enter the road, it costs £3. From this road you’ll get an idea of how Forestry England works. It is their road. It is strewn with stones and a fantastic experience

for those wanting sweeping vistas of the pine forest and beyond. This is big sky country for sure. 

At the halfway point and the highest point of the drive you’ll be 1500 metres above sea level and find ‘The Nick’, a stunning marvel of wooden architecture. It invites you in much like a tunnel and leads you to the most stunning view of the landscape you’ve left behind on the ascent. It has a series of pentagons that sporadically twist away from each other with ingenious seating built into its very being. Do not take a picnic, just your best coat, camera and intentions to get beautiful memories and photographs before the wind blows you away. And yes, it is COLD!

Another 5 miles or so down the road and you’ll find a small right hand turn with a toilet block and enough parking for maybe 5 cars. From here follow the trail with the orange markers for approximately 15 minutes. It is a very short trail and at the time of this post, there was a large part of the trail closed due to recent storms and its tall woody victims. Fret not, the walk blesses you with lush paths and dappled shade. We were very fortunate after a morning of rain to feel the sun on our backs as the wet earth underneath gave our feet the cushioning they so desired.

There are a few steep sections on this trail, but as the guide says they are steep and if they caused me any tiredness I did not waver to notice. This place felt really wild and isolated. A bit of me for sure. 

On your right you can hear the rush of water and as you find sloping steps leading down you notice the babbling river beneath you. Turning right to follow another set of stairs you find yourself on the bank of the small stream. Drawing your gaze up to the left, past a small stone half circle acting as a threshold of sorts, you’ll be greeted with the most amazing scene. 

It is green. The plants. The fallen trees. The rocks. All green. As your eyes adjust to the sunshine that seems to envelop this space, like no other scene before, you’ll notice that there is indeed a very beautiful, 20 foot high waterfall. It is gentle in force, but striking in its movement. The water from this beauty has created a space unlike any other I have seen in the world. It is so lush that wherever you look there are carpets of moss. 

I sit for a while and stroke the moss covering a large boulder. It is thick. So thick, my hand disappears into its fluffy texture. There are crowns of ferns that have sprung up in pockets amongst the wood and rocks. They are waving in the breeze. When the sun disappears behind the cloud the whole spot becomes dark and mysterious. It vanishes like magic. And when the sun returns, it shines its light upon the rocks and the plants igniting them back into life. This place is really special. 

It holds a certain mystique. A magic. This gully could be a daydream I have yet to wake up from. As we turn to leave, hundreds upon hundreds of tiny specks are flying, fleeing and falling through this enchanted space. Catching the light they glitter and dance. I imagine them to be fairies and we have found their kingdom. For no place like this can exist for us mere mortals.       

A hop, skip and a fracture.

Walk like an Egyptian. To and Fro. To and Fro.

The very first time I paid for someone else to travel was a big birthday celebration. 

My mum was turning 40 and had always wanted to go to Egypt. It was both of our first time in the country and I picked the Sharm El Sheikh Red Sea resort. We spent a week in the intense sun, cooling down in the huge pool and exploring the area. The area was built for tourism, it was not a cultural trip. Therefore we spent all but one day at the hotel. But it is one of my fondest memories. Times were simpler. 

Nowadays I long for the trips where I used to do nothing but people-watch and my movements were based on the sun’s position in the sky. I’m in no way saying I don’t enjoy the travelling I do now. It’s amazing. Just vastly different.

A trip now begins with a plan and long days filled with exploring and discoveries. It’s rewarding and beautiful and I wouldn’t change it. 

Even when Mr W and I have booked the quiet, relaxing holidays, we’ve each felt the ‘itch’ to get up and move around. Is it anxiety fuelled? Is it the need to see the world? I’m no longer sure. 

What I do know is when the time comes to sit still, we’ll be able to do it. 

My first time in Egypt was as unplanned as they come. When booking the trip I was given flight information, but told my hotel would be allocated on arrival. There were two 4 star hotels and one 5 star hotel in the possibilities and I counted my lucky stars that we were given the 5 star choice. I remember it so vaguely, a small all inclusive hotel with two pools. The smaller of the two was heated and therefore drew in my mum like a moth to a flame. She’s not good with cold water and when attempting to get into the bigger, colder pool one day decided slower was better and retreated down the pool stairs one tiny step at a time. I sat hidden by my book, laughing and watching everyone else laugh too. The noises, well shrieks, bounced all the walls of the surrounding accommodation and am sure drowned out the call to prayer that sounded nearby. 

That’s how we spent our days, until the sun fell behind the nearby mountains. When you are that close to the equator you can reach up, block the sun from view behind your thumb and literally trace it moving towards the horizon. It’s incredible. 

A mile from the resort we found the tourist nighttime hotspot. Restaurants, shops and a few clubs. It was the main hub for the entire hotel complex and came alive at night. There was so much going on you could not turn your head fast enough to take it in.  Shisha bars with all types of flavoured tobacco to try. Souvenirs of Egyptian cotton and drawings on papyrus. The locals offer you 12 camels for your hand in marriage. The open air was still warm, the lights glowed orange and allowed the night to darken to their deepest black. We spent hours wandering until it was time to leave. The last stall sold hand painted canvases. Large expanses of bright colours showcasing the wonders of Egypt; sand dunes, pyramids and camels in abundance. We each bought one, which we rolled securely and placed inside a sturdy cardboard tube. They both still hang in our homes.

As we left, waving away the throng of taxi drivers who called to us for ‘cheap taxi, cheap taxi’, we spoke of the lion painting that had caught my mum’s eye. She’d loved it but didn’t know where to hang it at home. We walked the mile back to our hotel, made it all the way back to our room, sat down and she gave me the look. The look that said, ‘I know where I would put the picture’. 10 minutes later we were on our way back to the market. Ignoring the taxi drivers and the calls from the bars to ‘please come in for a drink’, we head back to that last stall. Where she bought the picture and we walked the mile home. 

That picture still hangs in my mum’s home. My childhood home. Every time I see it, I remember the four miles of walking it took to buy it. I remember the laughter. The to and fro and to and fro. 

It’s when these memories pop into my head that my longings for the ‘simple holidays’ return. Sitting still, under the sun’s glare and a simple night-time walk can have even more impact on my life than I’ll understand at the time.