Italy: Angry Ice Creams and Absolute Beauty

Italy is beautiful. There are many beautiful places, but I have a personal favourite—do you?

You will remember from last week’s blog that we went to Italy for a couple of weeks at the beginning of August (returning for my niece’s wedding on the 18th, but you will have to wait until next week to read about that!) We stayed in LaThuile, which is a ski resort in the winter, and in the summer is a village of musical-box log cabins, and window boxes full of geraniums, and hot, hot, sunshine. The whole family plus partners came, and we had a happy time of reconnecting.

The Italian Alps might be the most beautiful place in the world. Even better than Scotland (which has some amazing scenery). I’m not a great lover of cities; I love big skies, and rushing rivers, and mountains, and trees (so Iceland wasn’t really my taste). Some of the mountains were still topped with snow, and snow is always exciting, even when it’s in the distance. (My family will correct me here, and tell me it’s not snow, it’s frozen glacier, but you know what I mean.)

We visited many beautiful towns and villages, and walked up mountains, and through mountain passes, and along valleys. There was a lake, high on a mountain pass. The water was so blue, and the sun was so hot, it was tempting to swim. Only the dogs were actually in the water, humans knew it would be freezing. As we walked round the lake we could hear the clonking bells of cows, and there was a herd of them with curved horns, drinking from the lake.

We visited Aosta, with its Roman remains and cobbled streets and carvings of wood. It was full of tourists when we were there, and there was a rain storm with huge drops of water soaking us all.

My dad played an accordion, so I loved this sculpture.

My main memory of Aosta is the ice cream parlour, where I had a stand-off with the assistant! The shop was busy, and while we stood in line we watched a man bring trays of chocolate-dipped lollies, and vats of fresh sorbet and creamy ice cream to refill the display. The counter was pretty, with fresh fruit, and coloured ices, and cones. But I also watched the girls serving, as they touched the money and credit cards, scratched an itch, then served the ice cream without washing their hands. I decided I would have an ice, placed in a cup with a scoop (no contact with those hands). All was going well, until I saw the assistant pick up a straw (touching the part that goes in the mouth) and place it in the ice. When it was my turn, I reached up, and took my own straw from the pot.

The assistant glared at me, and told me I shouldn’t touch. (Somewhat ironic.) I explained that I had only touched my own staw. She continued to scold me, then tried to add a straw from her own dirty hand. I told her that I did not want her straw, I already had one. I did not want a straw she had touched.

Oh the fury in those eyes! She returned to serving the rest of our order, glaring at me as she dolloped scoops of ice cream into cones. I have never been served ice cream with so much hatred! It did taste very nice though.

We also walked in Parco Nazionale Gran Paradiso, strolling beside rivers and waterfalls, staring at huge rocks left by glaciers. Very pretty.

But there is one place more beautiful than all the others. You can walk there from LaThuile, but two hours is about my maximum for an enjoyable walk, so we drove up the winding road from the town, turning onto a track before we reached the hamlet of Cappella di San Bernado. The track was very narrow, with hairpin bends, the valley falling steeply away to one side. Not a comfortable drive. I was glad when Husband announced he wasn’t going any further, and parked on a slim patch of grass next to the track. If a bus came, we’d be in trouble. But it wasn’t the sort of place a bus would go.

We walked. The track rose gradually, gently taking us further from the valley floor. We could see a river, and guessed the speed of it. There were trees below, dwarfed by the distance between us, dark green pines clinging to the side of the mountain. Patches of grass were dotted with brown mud, dug out by marmots which scampered away when they heard our voices echoing round the valley. (I must say, I will never ever manage to see much wildlife, because my family is so noisy!) Streams trickled from the rock next to us, forming puddles before trickling down to join the river. As we stepped over the puddles, clouds of blue butterflies rose, dancing around us like a host of fairies with blue and gold wings. We could see cows with their clonking bells in the distance, and beyond them, beyond everything, there were the mountains, watching. It was truly beautiful.

I hope you see some beauty this week. Try not to annoy any sales assistants though! Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

Reykjavik Holiday Diary 4

Posted by anneethompson

June 12^th, Whale Watching

Reykjavik harbour has several companies offering whale watching tours. Each one had marvellous photos of a whale’s tail next to a boat of excited tourists. But I had learnt from the puffin trip, that sometimes you are not as close as you think you will be, and clever photography can be misleading. Also, were these the best photos from 3 years ago, and the chances of seeing a whale today very slim? We went to ask.

The first learning point is that ‘whale’ includes dolphins and porpoises. They are, apparently, toothed whales. Therefore, a guarantee to see a whale, might actually be to see dolphins—not a lie, but not what I hoped for. We decided to book with special tours because we could look on their blog, and each day they wrote which whales they had actually seen. We knew humpback whales were in the area, we hoped we’d be lucky.

We arrived at the harbour, and exchanged our prebooked tickets for boarding passes. A bit odd, as we then walked 100 yards, and gave the boarding pass to the tour guide. We were offered sea-sickness pills. I am never sea-sick, but there was some pressure to take them, and I decided it would be daft not to, so I took them but Husband (who does get sea-sick) did not. Such is our marriage…

When on board, we were then advised to wear warm overalls. I had already dressed warmly, but decided to take their advice (good move). They had a supply of overalls below deck. I then rather resembled a whale myself.

We set off. A tour guide came on deck, and told us all about whales, and how to look for them (look for the rise of spray, the blow, when they come to the surface). She explained that there was no guarantee that we would see whales, but assured us it was likely.

The sea was choppy, but not especially rough. A few people looked a bit green (obviously hadn’t taken the pills) but no one was actually ill. After a while, we were told the guide had spotted ‘the blow’ and we were heading towards it. Then I saw it too. Such excitement! The trip was instantly worth the money.

The boat stopped, and wonders, a flipper came out and smacked the surface of the water. It was like being waved at. I made a sort of involuntary “aaagh” noise like you do when fireworks go off. Then the whale dived, and out came the tail, the iconic view, right next to the boat. Fabulous.

We continued on, and spotted two more humpback whales. We, of course, had neither binoculars nor camera with zoom. I grasped my iPhone and snapped as many photos as I could. The whales were so close to the boat, I was sure my pictures would be tremendous. When I looked at them later, they had captured waves, and nothing else. Husband’s were slightly better, so look closely and you can just about see bits of whale. It was better in real life.

Whales are huge, and wonderful, and it makes me sad that today they are killed for food. Our guide told us that whale meat was never an intrinsic part of the Icelandic diet—they occasionally ate the meat from a beached whale, but whaling was not in their history. Today, whales are caught in Iceland. The meat is sold for export (to places such as Japan) or served in restaurants to tourists. Since Covid, restaurant freezers are full of unsold whale meat. I’m hoping this discourages further whaling. There are better things to do when in Iceland than eat whale meat, alive whales should be worth more.

Hope you have a good day. Thanks for reading. Take care.
Love, Anne x

Anne E. Thompson — Thank you for reading anneethompson.com Why not sign up to follow my blog?

I tried to learn 2 Chronicles 7:14 while in Iceland. How much of it have you managed to remember? Read it again to refresh your memory:

(NIV)

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

(OHB)

וְיִכָּנְעוּ עַמִּי אֲשֶׁר נִֽקְרָא־שְׁמִי עֲלֵיהֶם וְיִֽתְפַּֽלְלוּ וִֽיבַקְשׁוּ פָנַי וְיָשֻׁבוּ מִדַּרְכֵיהֶם הָרָעִים וַאֲנִי אֶשְׁמַע

מִן־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶסְלַח לְחַטָּאתָם וְאֶרְפָּא אֶת־אַרְצָֽם׃

(CCB)

而这些被称为我名下的子民若谦卑下来，祈祷、寻求我的面，离开恶道，我必从天上垂听，赦免他们的罪，医治他们的土地。

anneethompson.com
*****

Reykjavik Holiday Diary 3

Posted by anneethompson

Friday June 10^th

I needed recovery time after the trip to see the puffins (see last blog for more details). I did absolutely nothing all morning, except a quick trip to the supermarket. I realised that many of the vegetables and fruit are grown in geothermal greenhouses. The heat is pumped up from underground, all that the plants need is a bit of light, and tadaah! Icelandic strawberries are a thing. According to my sister, Icelandic chocolate is also a thing, so I bought some to give as gifts when we get home.

We drove to see a recent (2021) eruption at Fagradalsfjall, about an hour from the city. The volcano had been dormant for 800 years, though the geologists had guessed it might erupt when they started measuring new activity. I expect being a geologist is rather an essential job in Iceland. The puffin island has a whole town that was covered by lava in the 70’s, which has now become bit of a tourist attraction. I’m not sure what it must be like, living somewhere that you know is relatively unstable. Perhaps you simply don’t think about it.

As we drove towards Fagradalsfjall I could see the mountain, it looked as if a giant had tipped black oil all over it, lines of black running down the sides. We parked in a grey gravel carpark, and began to follow signs. But the walk to the lava was long and steep, so we gave up.

Drove to where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates meet. This is so not something that I understand—I remember the theory, that the earth is covered in massive plates of rock that are moving too slowly to see, and that when they rub against each other we get earthquakes—but faced with two walls of rock, my head cannot quite link the two. The area looked like a moonscape. More grey rubble.

We saw more hot springs, and a lava cove with great waves crashing onto them. Iceland is fascinating, but there’s nothing cosy about it.

Saturday 11^th June

Spurred on by the excitement of seeing tectonic plates meeting, Husband suggested we drove ‘The Golden Circle.’ This is named after a waterfall, and is a circular route (obviously) that passes a few major highlights. It’s an 186 mile loop. I worried about whether there would be toilets, and decided not to drink anything all day.

First stop was Thingvellir National Park. (This is an anglicised spelling, as it actually begins with a strange p/b letter.) The park has the first parliament (which we didn’t see) and another rift valley between plates, which was very dramatic and was used in The Game of Thrones. We saw Oxararfoss waterfall, plus some toilets and expensive parking.

We drove across the plain, with snowy mountains in the distance, while Husband muttered about the speed limit. At Haukadalur geothermal field we saw all the interesting hot springs/bubbling mud stuff that we have seen previously, but slightly bigger and better organised in terms of paths and signs. I stayed on the walkways this time. There was also a geyser, Strokkur, which erupted every 10 minutes. It was a large pool of water, steam floating on the surface, and it sort of ‘lifted’ for a moment, before erupting in a giant plume of boiling water. Amazing.

Click on the image to see the video.

We finished our drive at Gullfoss, the ‘golden’ waterfall. It was huge, a great mass of water tumbling into a valley.

There were carparks, with toilets, at every stop, so dehydration was unnecessary.

Hope you have all that you need today. Take care.
Love, Anne x

I tried to learn 2 Chronicles 7:14 while in Iceland. How much of it have you managed to remember? Read it again to refresh your memory:

(NIV)

(OHB)

מִן־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶסְלַח לְחַטָּאתָם וְאֶרְפָּא אֶת־אַרְצָֽם׃

(CCB)

而这些被称为我名下的子民若谦卑下来，祈祷、寻求我的面，离开恶道，我必从天上垂听，赦免他们的罪，医治他们的土地。

anneethompson.com
*****

Reykjavik Holiday Dairy 2

Posted by anneethompson

Day Three: A Walk From Hell

Woke early, had coffee, read Bible. Then went for a run (my first mistake of the day).

Grabbed a packed lunch (well, a bag with bread, cheese, a knife, tomatoes and some biscuits). Drove to ferry terminal. We were off to see the world’s largest puffin colony, and I was excited. This was why I had come to Iceland. The tourist shops were filled with photographs of the cheery little birds with their colourful beaks, and plastic models, and fridge magnets. Now I was going to see thousands of them. It was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime event.

On the drive we saw flat plains with mountains in the distance, black rubble, steam rising from the ground, colourful houses, blue lupins everywhere and spectacular waterfalls. There were sheep, and horses, but we didn’t see any cows.

At the ferry terminal, all the cars were parked on an area of gravel, but there were no spaces. A line of cars was waiting to board the ferry, but we were going the cheap route and leaving our car at the terminal. (Second mistake of the day.) Husband decided he would ‘start a new line’ and abandoned car between two rows of neatly parked vehicles. We would return to either a new line of cars with ours in the middle, or wheel-clamps. I hoped it wouldn’t be the clamps.

Caught the ferry from Landeyjahafnarv to Heimaey, one of the Vestmannaeyjar islands. (Do hope that spelling is correct, and don’t ask how they’re pronounced!) We saw black sand, and choppy water. Didn’t see a whale (though I am sure they were there). As we drew into port we sailed close to cliffs pock-marked with white, each one the nest of a sea-bird. It was incredibly windy on the boat.

The ferry terminal was slightly confusing, and we weren’t sure where to go, but Husband had the puffin colony marked on Google maps, so we followed the route out of town. (Third mistake of the day.) I knew it would take about an hour—a long but comfortable walk. What I didn’t realise was that the strong wind from the sea would continue, with powerful force, blowing against us the whole way. The cross-winds were immense, blowing me across the road (luckily very few cars) and pushing against me as I struggled up the hill out of town. I thought it would improve as we left the port, but it didn’t. In some places the gusts were even stronger. Every step was a fight. I seriously doubted if I would make it.

Nearly dead. Walking to the distant mountain on the right.

About half way, I informed Husband that there was a distinct possibility that I might die of exhaustion. He checked his map, and said there was a much-less-good puffin lookout a bit nearer than the completely excellent one that we had travelled especially to Iceland to see. He didn’t mention that I had forgotten to bring both binoculars and a proper camera with a zoom lens, but he was probably thinking it. I didn’t have the energy to discuss it, and on I plodded, blown off-course with every step. Husband carried all my stuff, and offered frequent rests, but it was still incredibly difficult. I felt real envy as taxis and mini-buses passed us.

We made it to the lookout shelter. There were lots of puffins, but they weren’t very near, and without either binoculars or a camera zoom, we couldn’t see their bright beaks. It was still fun to see them, and after I had recovered, I was glad that I had come.

Each puffin mates for life, and we saw the couples working together. They made their nests in burrows on the cliff edge, it looked like a rabbit warren, with one puffin standing at the entrance and the other flying off for food. We saw flashes of their rounded tummies as they flew past, and their distinctive black and white feathers. But not really their beaks.

Probably not the best puffin photograph that you will ever see.

After our picnic lunch, Husband (nervously) reminded me that we had booked to go back on the ferry that left in an hour. I made no comment, saving my energy for another walk-from-hell. The wind was no less on the way back, and neither way was it behind us, it simply blew (blew is such a feeble word, it heaved and shoved) across us and around us, pulling at our coats and hats and pushing us when we walked. I staggered back to the ferry, made it in time, and sat, huddled on the deck, every muscle limp. I remembered the car, and decided that if the wheels were clamped, we would leave it, and buy a new one. I was much too tired to negotiate with an Icelandic carpark attendant.

Luckily, the car sat in the middle of a new row of cars. We drove back via Seljalandsfoss waterfalls. I stayed in the car. Husband went to look, and reappeared with a box of donuts (this is why I love the man).

Next we stopped at Hveraldalir geothermal area, and the donuts had revived me sufficiently to leave the car. There was a slightly run-down walkway, and information signs, and a strong smell of sulphur. No one else was there. We couldn’t see where the walkway started, and my legs were too shaky to walk far, so I nipped across the mud. Big mistake. In fact, it was fine, but a short distance further, the innocuous-looking mud was bubbling. A foot in boiling mud was probably not a good idea. (I remembered my daughter had explicitly warned me about things like this, I should have listened.)

All very interesting. We saw steam vents, and boiling mud, fumaroles and pools of boiling water. The sulphur/rotting eggs smell was overwhelming. But a very cool place to visit, and it was free. I stayed on the walkway on the way back to the car.

Dinner at the lamb burger place again, too tired to be creative. Went to bed exhausted.

Thanks for reading. I’ll tell you about our whale-watching trip in a later blog.

Hope you don’t make any big mistakes this week. Take care.
Love, Anne x

The verse I tried to learn while in Iceland was 2 Chronicles 7:14.

How much have you managed to remember? Read it again to refresh your memory:

(NIV)

(OHB)

מִן־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶסְלַח לְחַטָּאתָם וְאֶרְפָּא אֶת־אַרְצָֽם׃

(CCB)

而这些被称为我名下的子民若谦卑下来，祈祷、寻求我的面，离开恶道，我必从天上垂听，赦免他们的罪，医治他们的土地。

anneethompson.com
*****

Reykjavik

Posted by anneethompson

Reykjavik Holiday Dairy

Day One: Arrival Day

Unpacked our stuff at the Airbnb, then went to find a supermarket. Everything is very expensive, and as we speak no Icelandic, it was quite an adventure. A man overheard us debating the milk, and kindly showed us which one was semi-skimmed (yellow top). I later overheard some Americans trying to find ‘half-and-half’ and mistakenly picking up baby-milk. “That’s breast-milk!” one exclaimed, which made me laugh.

Wandered round the waterfront. The air is cool and clear. There seem to be a lot of tourists, a lot of gay couples, lots of Viking stuff, a lot of pink hair. The painted houses are rather cheerful. They have big blank windows, which I don’t understand in a country that has constant summer daylight (when I would want thick curtains) followed by almost constant winter darkness (when I would still want thick curtains). I find it confusing; the houses and shops look the same. Sometimes I think I’m looking into a café window, and I realise I’m watching a bloke cut his toenails in his lounge!

We ate lamb burgers in Fjallkonan, a buzzing restaurant full of chatty people. Excellent food, comfortable chairs (it matters!) It cost £60 for two burgers, one beer, and a sparkling water. Not a cheap city.

Day Two: Drive from Reykjavik

Terrible night’s sleep due to constant daylight. Need to invest in some eye-masks. Got up 6am, read Bible and had coffee, dragged Husband out for a run.

Showered—it stinks of sulphur. The hot water is pumped straight from the ground, which makes incredibly cheap heating/hot water systems. But it’s smelly. Hoping I get used to it; holding my breath for the length of the shower was a near-death experience. Maybe will buy an oxygen tank and mask when I buy the eye-mask (though Husband is bound to make comments). However, the cold water in Iceland is good, very pure, and perfect for drinking straight from the tap. Don’t waste money on bottled water in Iceland.

Decided to go for a drive as the weather forecast is wet. Driving here is fairly easy as long as you remember which side of the road to be on. Good quality wide roads (not like the warrens of Madeira). There are several gravel/unmade roads, but our hire car agreement doesn’t allow us to use those (for which I am grateful). We drove towards Glymur Waterfall, stopping to eat a picnic lunch on the way. Husband made comments about the bread knife (I don’t like making sandwiches, easier to do it at the time). Ate looking at black mountains with white patches of snow.

Drove NorthWest to Kolbeinsstadhir. (Icelandic is a bit like Welsh, every word is crammed full of consonants.) Stopped to look at some thermal water. It was shut, due to Covid, but we ignored the sign and walked up anyway. There was a hot spring, which was piped, so looked a bit like someone had randomly put a tap in the middle of wasteland. There was steam. Husband was more impressed than me.

We saw several herds of horses. Icelandic horses are a thing. They are classified as horses (though I’m pretty sure they are ponies really) and they’re very pretty. If you remove one from Iceland, it’s not allowed back, which keeps the line pure. Some restaurants serve horse meat, but I like to think the beauties I saw were kept for riding.

We got home about 4:30pm. I saw lots of very flat plains, black mountains, spectacular waterfalls, and thousands of blue lupins. But not many trees. There’s a saying: “If you see three trees in Iceland, you’re in a forest.” Or a joke: “If you’re lost in a forest in Iceland, stand up!” I guess repeated lava flows doesn’t encourage long life for trees, and the earth below the surface is too hot for deep roots. There were trees, but not many, and none were ancient. I still prefer Scotland for scenery.

Dinner at Messinn. I started with a dirty plate, and was then given a sticky menu, so not a great start. But they served traditional fish stew, with potatoes and vegetables and hunks of lava bread. Lava bread is good. It’s rye bread, and the dough is cooked in a pot in the hot ground. I thought it tasted a bit like malt loaf but without the fruit, and it was nice with butter and a cup of tea. But they also chuck lumps of it into their fish stews.

Thanks for reading. In my next blog I’ll describe the most difficult walk of my life, going to see a puffin colony. Hope you have a good week.
Love, Anne x

The verse I tried to learn in Iceland was 2 Chronicles 7:14. Have you managed to remember any? Read it again to refresh your memory:

(NIV)

(OHB)

מִן־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶסְלַח לְחַטָּאתָם וְאֶרְפָּא אֶת־אַרְצָֽם׃

(CCB)

而这些被称为我名下的子民若谦卑下来，祈祷、寻求我的面，离开恶道，我必从天上垂听，赦免他们的罪，医治他们的土地。

anneethompson.com
*****

Running in Reykjavík

Posted by anneethompson

While we were in Iceland, we tried to run each morning. I never changed my watch (Iceland is an hour behind of English time) so it was easy to get up early. Iceland is a country of flat plains and steep mountains. The city is built on a hill, and I don’t run on hills. Luckily, our Airbnb was near Hijomskalagardur Park, which was flat, so we could could walk down the hill, do a lap of the lake, and run/stagger home. The park had ducks (always good) and swans, lots of interesting statues, and a view back up the hill of the city. In the distance were black mountains with patches of white snow. Wherever we went in Iceland, there were always black mountains with patches of white snow. Panda mountains.

I loved the statues, and made up stories about them as I ran. I took photos to show you:

I loved this one. Make of it what you will, but to me it spoke of the burden of having to work in an office.

Beautiful mermaid (with bird on her head)…

Woman uses toilet while wishing her husband would go away! (Reminds me of ‘Out by Ten’. Better read a copy if you don’t understand.)

Big hero with big hammer needs to rest on the strength of a gentle woman.

Man with big shield slays the dragon with his sword and rescues the naked woman (not sure why she needs to be naked) while she keeps hold of her friendly ghost. (I don’t understand the ghost either, maybe the spirit of the slain dragon? Perhaps they were friends and the man misunderstood the situation.)

There was also a lovely view of the city, though you can’t see the black mountains in this photo. They’re off to the right.

While running, I tried to learn some more of 2 Chronicles 7:14. How much can you remember now?

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”

וְיִכָּנְעוּ עַמִּי אֲשֶׁר נִֽקְרָא־שְׁמִי עֲלֵיהֶם וְיִֽתְפַּֽלְלוּ וִֽיבַקְשׁוּ פָנַי וְיָשֻׁבוּ מִדַּרְכֵיהֶם הָרָעִים וַאֲנִי אֶשְׁמַע מִן־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶסְלַח לְחַטָּאתָם וְאֶרְפָּא אֶת־אַרְצָֽם׃

anneethompson.com
*****

‘Iceland is Beautiful,’ they said…

Posted by anneethompson

‘Iceland is beautiful,’ they said… ‘Iceland is my favourite country in the world,’ they said… ‘You’ve never been?’ they said, ‘You should plan to visit.’ So we did.

I prepared for our trip by watching Icelandic films, hoping to learn the odd phrase and perhaps see a little of the culture. This was a mistake, as I mostly watched crime films. I therefore stepped off the flight, entered the arrivals hall and was confronted by a line of serial killers holding name placards. Luckily we had rented a car, so avoided all the psychopaths and edged our way to the Avis desk. Avis had queues of people, very little space, and lots of signs about wind (the weather version). Wind is a thing in Iceland.

Known as the land of ice and fire, it should also be called the land of blue lupins. They were everywhere, lining the roads, growing on ancient mounds of lava, covering every hill and plain. Iceland in June is blue. Blue and grey. People told me that Iceland is beautiful, and it’s true that many parts were, but there’s an awful lot of grey. As we drove from the airport the landscape reminded me mostly of the groundwork when a new motorway is being built —mounds of grey rubble. Volcanoes are not tidy, and Iceland was produced by a string of eruptions. I guess there’s no point in clearing up the lava flow, so it sits there, pretending to be builder’s rubble, until the lupins move in to cover it in blue.

We rented an Airbnb in Reykjavik. This turned out to be wonderful, a converted printing works that consisted of one huge room filled with plants and nicknacks, with separate bedrooms and bathroom. It was used in the Netflix series Sense8, though most of the furniture was different.

Reykjavik is more town than city, with mostly wooden houses covered in colourful corrugated iron. It has clean streets, happy people in weird clothes (though to be honest, I think the clothes of most people younger than me are weird) and high prices. Iceland is expensive. The city also has a harbour, and a huge church (which looks like a cathedral) high on a hill, seen above the city.

A cool church building, towering over Reykjavík.

Pretending to be a Viking, outside the big church.

We were told that in June, it would only be dark for a few hours each night, between midnight and 2 am. This was a lie. I got up in the night to check, and it was never dark. Slightly gloomy perhaps, like a grey day at home, but never dark. I took a photo for evidence…

No streetlights needed: 2am and definitely NOT dark.

The June weather was cold, but not freezing. I needed a warm sweater and a coat, but not a ski jacket (which is lucky, as I don’t own one!) A woolly hat is fairly essential, not so much for warmth but more for hair control. Husband declined repeated offers to borrow a hat, and the hair style wasn’t good. As I said, wind is a thing in Iceland.

We saw some amazing stuff while we were there, but I’ll tell you about our trips in another blog. Is Iceland beautiful? Beauty is very subjective, and I never really saw past the grey rocks, the black mountains, and the lack of trees. Especially the trees. Most other people have a different view, so I’ll leave you with some pictures and you can decide for yourself.

Thanks for reading. Take care.

Love, Anne x

I try to learn a little more Hebrew whenever I run (it helps take my mind off the pain!) In Iceland I began to learn 2 Chronicles 7: 14. You could try to learn it too?
*Note to Mother: Please learn the English version and we can make another Facebook video!
I will add it to the end of each Iceland blog:

If my people, who are called by my name, humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways,
then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.
2 Chronicles 7:14

וְיִכָּנְעוּ עַמִּי אֲשֶׁר נִֽקְרָא־שְׁמִי עֲלֵיהֶם וְיִֽתְפַּֽלְלוּ וִֽיבַקְשׁוּ פָנַי וְיָשֻׁבוּ מִדַּרְכֵיהֶם הָרָעִים וַאֲנִי אֶשְׁמַע מִן־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶסְלַח
לְחַטָּאתָם וְאֶרְפָּא אֶת־אַרְצָֽם׃

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Pendragon Castle and Franks Bridge

Posted by anneethompson

Pendragon Castle and Franks Bridge

It was our last day in the Yorkshire Dales, so we made it a good one. We started with a run down the lane (I will miss the lambs in the fields and the stone walls, and the hills surrounding the dale). Then breakfast in Hawes (at Caffe Curlew, which despite the spelling serves excellent food—I had banana loaf with raspberries and yogurt and honey—soo delicious). Later, we went for a drive.

I will never tire of driving through the dales (especially out of season, when the roads are clear, and the views stretch on forever). The roads cling to the side of the hills, rolling up and down with the curves of rock, sometimes with sheep, sometimes mile after mile of nothing but grass. We headed for Kirby Stephen, simply because it looked like a fairly large town not too far away.

In Kirby Stephen we found Franks Bridge, so I took a photo to send to Uncle Frank (as you do). The bridge was hard to find, in a warren of narrow lanes and crooked houses, and absolutely nowhere to park. Later, I learned that it used to be an area owned by the brewery, and all the cottages are converted brewery buildings.

Franks Bridge is a pretty stone bridge crossing the River Eden (not, weirdly, the same River Eden that runs through the Kent town of Edenbridge). It is the starting point for several footpaths, and was built in the 17^th century. The bridge is named after one of the brewers (Francis—or Frank to his friends!)

Franks Bridge hidden behind a maze of old brewery buildings.

We wandered up to the centre of town. In the church I found a glass case with a few old objects. They include a tusk which is said to be from the last wild boar in England (before they were all killed by hunters). There is also the ‘breeches Bible’ which is so named because in Genesis, Adam and Eve sewed breeches. The Hebrew word was traditionally translated as ‘aprons.’

Old Bible in a glass case in the church.

Even older than the church or bridge is Pendragon Castle, which sits next to the road on the way to Kirby Stephen. It dates back to the 12^th century, and was apparently founded by the father of King Arthur, Uther Pendragon. (I feel those names would have been confusing when Arthur lived at home, but who am I to comment?) Anyway, Uther came to a sticky end when the well was poisoned by the Saxons, so maybe not such a happy place.

A slightly less romantic version has the castle built by Hugh de Morville or Ranulph de Meschines—accounts differ (still in the 12^th century though). Hugh de Morville is one of the men who murdered St. Thomas Becket in 1170, so not a nice chap. The castle was nearly destroyed when Scottish raiders tried to burn it down in 1341 (we could never control the Scottish) but was restored and was later owned by Lady Anne Clifford.

Today however, it is beautiful. The walls are crumbling, and aubretia is growing in the cracks, so if you visit be sure to go in April when it’s flowering. It sits on a little hill, the ditch of a moat around it, birds singing in the trees, sheep nestling next to the river below. Definitely a good place to visit to end our holiday.

Hope you have a good day. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com

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Mini-Break in Hawes, Yorkshire Dales

Posted by anneethompson

We were going to visit the rope-makers but they’re shut. Maybe they got to the end of their tether. Or perhaps they were all Methodist, as the impressive Methodist church sported a rather sad sign which said people had worshipped there from 1800s until 2014. They maybe moved to a different building, but that wasn’t the implication. We decided to visit the cheese-making creamery instead, but they were shut too. (Note to future self: Don’t trust the timings on websites.)

Instead, we drove to a pretty village (we figured they couldn’t shut a whole village). West Burton is a short drive from Hawes and it has a pretty village green, a waterfall and a Methodist Chapel which is open and friendly (it had daffodils on a bench outside and a sign inviting people to take a posy for their friends and neighbours). We wandered around, were impressed by the age of the buildings, drove back to the cottage. Possibly not as interesting as cheese making, though personally I was rather glad the rope-makers were shut.

The next day we were better planned and set off for Bolton Castle in Castle Bolton (village is named after the castle in case you’re confused). I was keen to visit as I had read Queen Mary had been held captive there for a while. Husband was keen to visit because he could sort of remember it has a link to Game of Thrones. The facts are:

Bolton Castle was built in the 14^th century by the first Baron of Bolton. He rebelled against Henry VIII who tried to burn down the castle (and damaged it). Later (after it was repaired) Mary Queen of Scots was held there for 6 months. She brought with her lots of staff, including a hairdresser, who needed to lodge with locals, and she brought furnishings from other castles, so it doesn’t sound too bad. Apparently she even escaped at one point, so I’m not sure how closely she was guarded—maybe if she had known what was coming she would have tried a bit harder to get away.

The castle is still owned by descendants of the Baron of Bolton today. It has been used for various films, including Elizabeth, and Anne Boleyn and is also where James Herriot proposed to his wife in the tv series All Creatures Great and Small (which used to be on telly Sunday afternoons, and was one of the very few television programmes that we were allowed to watch in my family on Sundays.)

On Game of Thrones one of the houses is called House Bolton and it’s in the north, and hosts a wedding where I believe everyone is killed. I seem to remember that the house did look very similar to the big square Bolton Castle, but I don’t think there’s any other link. The House Bolton are pretty nasty, so I don’t expect the real Bolton family are too chuffed by the similarities.

The castle is worth a visit, but you don’t need too long. It has a nice teashop, and clean loos, plus wild boar (which were hiding) and birds of prey kept in cages (which makes me sad, because birds should be free to fly). It was interesting structurally because you could see in the fallen-down bits how it would have been, and there were enough intact rooms to wander through, but I couldn’t get a ‘feel’ of the place. There were no whispers of ancient people, I couldn’t imagine the people who once lived there and any ghosts left long ago. Pretty views though.

Thanks for reading. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about a much prettier castle, though rather more ruined, that we found beside the road.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

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Yorkshire Dales in the Spring

Posted by anneethompson

Market Day

We are enjoying a few days in the Yorkshire Dales, staying in a 16^th century cottage surrounded by fields of sheep. The cottage is simple, but comfortable, and we’re a short walk away from Hawes.

Today we went to see the animal market in action. I’ve never been to an animal auction before, so it was all very interesting. We arrived during the sheep sales—pens of sheep waiting in a barn. We could hear the chant of the auctioneer, and every few minutes a man opened a door, a few sheep ran along an aisle between the pens, stopping when blocked by a gate that another man held open, they then veered into an empty pen, the man closed the door behind them. It was all very organised. I think everyone else was a farmer, either hoping to buy or sell. But no one frowned at us or asked us why we were there, so we decided to venture into the actual auction.

The auction was held in a room with curved seats like an amphitheatre, the auctioneer at a high desk against one wall and an area at the front with a large pen. The animals were herded along walkways into the pen. Men stood there, and they felt the wool of each batch of sheep. (At least, I think that’s what they were doing, I wouldn’t think farmers would stroke sheep for no reason.) The auctioneer chanted in his sing-song voice, banged his hammer, the exit was opened and the sheep ran out. At one point, a sheep had a loop-out and tried to leap over the fence. Instead of giving her lots of space (which is what I would have instinctively have done) the farmers edged closer, so she was trapped in the corner. Which meant that she couldn’t hurt herself by banging against the fence, nor did she have room to jump again. They obviously knew what they were doing.

I was interested to see a couple of young boys, about ten-years-old, in the ring. (Watching, not being sold!) They had tough boots and sensible haircuts and were obviously farmers of the future. One sat eating a sandwich, the other was at the front, feeling the wool as the sheep came through, copying his dad. They had an ease about them, they had been here before, it was part of the job. I suspect they were rather capable kids, would be handy in an emergency.

We managed to leave the market without buying anything (which was bit of a shame, but I’m not sure how we’d have got a sheep home with us). We walked back to the cottage across the fields. There were calves in the fields, and lots more lambs, a river bubbled next to us with geese swimming, bees buzzed in the blossom, the disused railway line ran over low stone bridges, and the dales rose on either side. A peaceful place in the sunshine. I’m not sure that anywhere really compares with the English countryside on a warm spring morning.

Hope you have a great day. Thanks for reading.
Love, Anne x

anneethompson.com
xxxx

Anne E Thompson

Author

travel

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‘Iceland is Beautiful,’ they said…

Pendragon Castle and Franks Bridge

Mini-Break in Hawes, Yorkshire Dales

Yorkshire Dales in the Spring

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