A Nutcase in the North

Good grief, has it really been two weeks since I've updated this thing? Aye-yi-yi, time flies, doesn't it? Unless of course you're taking bus rides to Zeus knows where that last four hours, but that's just me.

Last week Andy loaded us up into the coach and took us to the wild blue yonder called the Lake District, so named because...wait for it, it has a lake, a big one at that. It's basically England's ultimate outdoors destination, for those of you who like that stuff (cough-Dad-cough-cough).

Not gonna lie though, it was beautiful. Our hostel was right on the waterfront so everyday, morning noon and night, you had an awesome view.


I asked Juliane to get a picture of me on the dock, and I tried to crouch down and make it look like I was gonna jump in but it didn't quite have the desired effect...

Go ahead, snicker, I'll wait....

...you done? Good, moving on.

I headed out with AJ, Anna R, and Juliane and we explored the park near our hostel. It was kinda foggy but we still got some cool picks all the same.

The only annoying thing was this valley is used by the Royal Air Force for radar practice, so every twenty minutes or so a fighter jet would fly overhead followed by a distinct WHOOSH! Anna R thought it was cool but it irritated me, a) because it disrupted the serenity of the valley and b) once the jet had passed I had "Highway to the Danger Zone" from Top Gun playing in my head. Grrr, blast you Tom Cruise!



While we were out we came across this hill with trees on it. I bounded up and down feeling like a Scottish highlander.

See John run...
See John pose...
See John bounding like Rob Roy, hehe...oh come on people, William Wallace isn't the only famous Scotsman in history.

This is the remains of a Roman outpost, specifically the south gate. And yes I knew that instinctively, without a fancy plaque on the ground spelling it out for me or anything.


The next day was...interesting. It was our outdoor character building day as Calvin's dad would put it (no, not John Calvin, Calvin as in Calvin & Hobbes, the greatest comic strip of all time...ah, forget it). We had two activities planned, rock climbing then "canoeing" (I'll explain in a minute). For these excursions, Andy supplied us with wetsuits...

Dr. Jekyll, you're wanted in the OR, Dr. Jekyll to the OR, please...

We split into two groups, mine went rock climbing first. As I've said before, I do not like heights. I like mountains, but I don't like climbing straight up. Yet somehow, there I was climbing up a rock face at least thirty feet high.

Here's what was going through my head at this moment:

Spider-Man, Spider-Man, right now I wish I was Spider-Man

Yeesh...

About halfway up my brain decided "That's enough, boyo" and I said I wanted to come down. The guy holding the rope told me to put up against the face and repel down, but I slipped and swung out like Tarzan on a vine complete with sound effects "AAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHH!" No I didn't really do that, but it would've been funnier than Hades if I had.

Once that was over we went "canoeing" at least what the Brits call canoeing, what we'd call kayaking. I got the hang of it eventually, once I stopped treating my kayak like a canoe. Eh.

Our next outing was to the former home of William Wordsworth, a famous poet who drew his inspiration from the Lake District's natural beauty. Our guide was Dr. Hogg, and after we finished with Wordsworth's home he took us on a hike through the mountains, or fells as the Brits call them. When it was over it was easy to see why Wordsworth felt inspired by this place.

This the Lion and The Lamb. If you look closely you can see the lion on the top of the mountain with the lamb's head beside it.





To Yahweh, by whose hand
These mountains did raise
To Yahweh, shaper of worlds
Do I give this praise



Pretty cool, huh?

This waterfall was a little side trip Dr. Hogg took us on, those of us not completely dead from the hike (you're right, Dad, all those backpacking trips you dragged me in did come in handy I admit it).



After our fourth night in the Lake District, we continued our journey northward, to the border of Scotland, the land where it's considered manly to wear a skirt. The big draw in that area was of course Hadrian's Wall, built by the Roman emporer Hadrian to show, well frankly, that he could.


Before going to the actual wall, we stopped by a small museum that held a few artifacts from when the wall was excavated. This appealed to me because, what else, a few of the artifacts had mythological value.
This is an altar dedicated to Jupiter, the Greatest and the Best, the king of the gods, the Roman equivalent of Zeus.
This is Mars, aka Ares, god of war, thus naturally the patron god of the soldiers stationed at Hadrian's Wall.
This was a real treat for me because this altar depicts my favorite mythological figure, Hercules, performing the First of his Twelve Labors, the slaying of the Nemean Lion.

Now I know some of you probably have the theme from Disney's Hercules playing in your heads, and I'm sure you're enjoying it. Don't. That movie is an abomination to the Greek myths, less than 0.1% accurate to the actual stories.

Here we are now at Hadrian's Wall itself. According to Dr. Hogg it stretches for 80 Roman miles, but there's only one place you can actually walk on it.


I got to do something I'd always wanted to do since I heard about Hadrian's Wall. I climbed over it looked into Scotland and roared at the top of my lungs. It felt good, and it scared the crap out of Britney, hehehehe. One more thing to cross off the Bucket List.

We then went to the ruins of one of the main Roman forts, where we found a symbol that the Romans used to eh, "ward off" the evil eye. Hehe.

Who needs a sundial when you have one of these.
Oh, those Romans. Least now whenever someone says Americans are obsessed with phallic symbols, I can be like "Yeah, about that...."


Once we hand finished at Hadrian's Wall we went to the town of Hexham, and there were split up into pairs to stay with our host families. Jeff and I stayed with Mr and Mrs. Voubles (I hope I'm spelling that right, I have no idea). Turns out Mr. Voubles is actually Dr. Voubles, a former gastro-intenstinal surgeon, their version of colon-rectal. Small world, eh, Dad?

They were very nice, you could tell they were grandparents, asking all sorts of questions, where we were going, anything in particular we wanted to eat, etc.

Our first day in Hexham we headed to Lindesfarne, the Holy Island, were several British saints are said to have begun their ministries.

This is Lindesfarne Castle which we didn't have time to visit (so no goofy gargoyle pics....this time)

We also saw, er, a rather environmentally friendly automobile. Now I've heard of going green, but this is ridiculous.

Somewhere, Al Gore's rubbing his hands together going "Muhuhahaha! At last I've done it. They all laughed at me but who's laughing now fools! Ahahaha!"

Then the guys in the white coats come in and say "Mr. Gore, it's time for your pills."

Our last stop in the north was Durham Cathedral. Yeah, yeah, I know another freakin' cathedral, but there all over the place what can I say.
This was the knocker (hehe, "What knockers!" Ah, Young Frankenstein) that fugitives could grasp to earn sanctuary in the cathedral. They had thirty-seven days (I think) to decide if they were going to stay and stand trial or leave England by the nearest port. I wonder which got chosen more often.


The only thing to do inside was climb the cathedral's tower. I essentially paid three pounds to wear myself out climbing over twenty stories of stairs.

Anyway, we're back in Cambridge now, to catch up on classes and to prepare for our next adventure. In a few days we're off to the Emerald Isle. Ireland. See you next post.