My original plan had been to miss the motorway and cross the Peak district and pass Edale or Kinder. The weather had some other thoughts on the route, and it snowed heavily that night. We took the motorway, and by the time we reached our destination the snow was just a mush on the footpaths. Some things are not meant to be, and it looks like snow for me this year is one of them.

Anyway, Martin had planned visits for us on Monday so we relaxed and enjoyed Sunday roast with them, and settled in for the night feeling welcome and relaxed. The following morning, after a stroll to walk the dogs, and after convincing the ladies that the rain would not last longer than a few minutes (hmm, Manchester – rain, yes it does) we leapt onto the tram for my first trip into the city centre.

Martin had arranged for us to take a tour of the clock tower in the town hall. Today as well we had the pleasure of the German Christmas Market, selling mostly mulled wine and bratwurst. With the odd knick-knack thrown in for good measure.

Spiral Staircase

Railing Detail

Window Detail

The girls decided for, various reasons, not to climb the 170something spiral steps to the tower. Choosing instead to sit drinking coffee and eating cake in the grand café of the town hall. The whole thing is stunning to see, the architects had a wild gothic idea and threw it everywhere. With arches, broad and narrow staircases, spiral staircases. Plus lots of mosaic floors, stained glass windows, and decorated pillars for good measure.

They kindly start you on the 6th floor, after getting the lifts up. Then its into the small spiral, round and round and into the Bell-ringing room. Ropes, benches, not much to see but the guide gives a bit of background. The biggest bell is Great Abel, named after the Mayor at the time of building. Onwards and upwards and into the mechanics of the place, the clock room. Here the whole timing thing happens. These are places that normally you don’t see, they are the domain of wizards and engineers. And the whole thing runs like clockwork. (Sorry, no more I promise)

The Rope Room, Bell-ringers spot

The Mechanism.

More Mechanism

Up again, and you stand behind the clock faces themselves, only three that show. One faces the building itself. In here you can see the buildings reality, it is a brick-built mansion. With facing stone. A bit of a cheat, but cheaper to make. The last leg takes you to past the bell room, and up onto the terrace at the top of the tower. Where Great Abel lives, and the views over Manchester and down onto Albert Square dominate your sight, The Angels, gargoyles, watch over everything. Being this close to these things always fascinates me. And despite the rain the views where worth the trip up there.

The Clock Face.

Angels

Angels

Gargoyles watching over us.

Angels, one for each direction of the compass.

Working while we watch.

Albert Square and the Market

Back down, you need to take care to be slow, and make sure you don’t get yourself dizzy with the turning. We dropped back into the main building, had a look at the murals by Ford Madox Brown in the Great Hall, checked out the Bees on the floor, a symbol of the workers in Manchester that drove the industrial revolution. More Neo-gothic architecture, and it was time to pick up Jane and Jill and head out into the market. Looking back at the tower from the square it looks much taller, leaning back to take it all in.

Gothic design

Manchester Bee.

The Tower From Below

Eating Bratwurst in the outdoors always reminds me of the Schnell-imbiss in Dortmund, Germany. When I was small we lived there for a little while, and going out to the “Schnelly” when we went shopping was a real treat. Memories brought by food. Then, of course we didn’t have mulled wine as well. Very nice on a cold Manchester Monday, followed by a curry to finish of the evening.

Mulled Wine and good friends.

A Well Fed Quartet

Finally, thanks to Martin and Jill for their hospitality, and for showing us a little bit of their city. We shall be back, soon, you were too good at the B & B thing.

Versatile Blogger

Planaquarium has put me on their list for this award, Thanks, its nice that you like what I do enough to put me onto your list.

They can be found here: Planaquarium Great images and writing.

My 15 links to blogs I like, how do you choose? I follow loads and try to drop in on as many as possible, but the more you find the longer it takes, there is so many interesting people out there. Work always interferes with time spent roaming the virtual world and walking in the real one. But this is my list, you are all great.

Paris at my Doorstep
Temporarily Lost Dot Com
Gin and Lemonade
Pat Bean
Obsession
C B Wentworth
Bennis Inc
The Power Of Slow
Zendicative
Elly Huizinga
Connie Dona
Insanity Aquarium
Life and Art
Draw and Shoot
Lets Be Adventurers
The Long and the Short of It
Shahanifudge
Claire Wade
Francis Barker Art

All in no particular order, just places to visit and see some different aspects of life.

7 Random things about me?

I don’t like tomatoes.
I cook Chinese food.
I can juggle.
I like to watch Scooby Doo cartoons.
I played American Football in England for the Taunton Wyverns.
I drink strong coffee, often.
I am an aggressive left-handed militant.

Now I have to visit everyone and tell them. Is this one of those pyramid selling scams?
Pyramid for sale, One careful owner.

Jim

Trig Point Aran Fawddwy

White tops
glazed rocks,
rime just growing.
Jeune pousse,
just enough ice to touch
the shape of the hill.
Just enough to grow.

The trig point marking the summit of Aran Fawddwy, after the walk along the ridge with the wind pushing all the way this marked our furthest point for the day. From here we turned and started our descent. Not before taking picture of the first growth of ice and wind rime on the trig point stones. This can grow through the winter as cold and rain build up. This picture from Waun Fach shows how it grows.

Waun Fach summit cairn

I love the shapes and delicacy of the sculpture created by this natural event. I’m waiting for the next chance to head out and see some more that the British weather has to offer. I was reminded about these pictures by a post on Draw and Shoot a photography blog. A very good one too I think, go visit and see what you think.

The poem was written from notes taken on the day, the weather meant they were brief, and the subsequent poem shorter.
What do you think, too short – not enough? How do you feel about short pieces of writing in all forms. Short stories, micro stories, haiku?

I once took part in an online project called Your Messages, in response to a prompt you had to write a 300 word response/story in 24 hours. I think it makes every word work hard for its money, and keeps the writer on their toes. Does my effort make it in the short poetry stakes? Does it give enough of a picture to make itself worthwhile?

“Jeune Pousse” is the young growth, normally of salad. Sometimes children, in French.

Let me know what you think.

I have changed theme and removed Postaweek2011 from my blog. Now we hit 2012 hard and fast. Swift kick in the nadgers and we are off and running. Seems odd though no longer having all those people posting under 2 banners. Being able to see how they got on each day and week, the struggles and the successes.

Breaking out into the New Year

I was surprised at how much people enjoyed the walking posts, it is a pleasure for me to share the pictures and relive the walking. I want to take more pictures and walk locally this year. To see the places we miss because we see them all the time.

Take a bow Mr Shakespeare

Last week however, I was struck by how different everything seemed to me. My eyes were opened to the strangeness and the strangers in my town. Who where all these people and where had they come from? I sat in the window of the coffee shop, seeing people flow past, hell-bent of the sales. Bags and bits, and so many heads down, pre-occupied with their mission.

I wonder if they wonder who everyone else is?

This piece follows the idea, of a return. As we will be in England for a while. Lots going on this year so we will see what we can, when we can. And enjoy the family and friends that are around us. I still not sure about the line breaks so I’ll be playing with it for a while yet. Seeing how far I can take the idea.



Everywhere I look there are strangers
eyes watching me as I walk,
or wait in the traffic, driving,
they seem to know where I’m going.
Know I left, went elsewhere and returned.
I do not know these faces, and they do not
know me.

They accuse my diversions, my travels,
even though now, I am here. Returned,
with nothing more than pictures to show,
stories to tell.
They are the strangers who occupy my town,
passers-by who stare while I walk the places
I have been.

I have been out on the mountains many times with Pete and his wife Kath, so when we arrived to high winds and heavy rain we quickly shifted to plan B, Cadair Idris. After all there is a mountain hut at the top, we could stay there overnight walk to the far side and back in the morning.

We choose the pony track on the northern side, joining a couple of others braving the weather to get out and about. As we reached the large rock marking the summit plateau we caught up with one of the Snowdonia national park wardens. He was getting into wet weather gear and dressing for the worst, “Gets windy after here” he said, smiling happily. Not just windy it turns out, wet as well. Welsh weather at its best, sideways rain, low cloud, and wind. Combining to make an interesting time of it for us, after strolling through the rock fields and over the last rocky outcrops to the summit we were ready for coffee and food. There are not many pictures of Cadair Idris as my camera is not waterproof, sorry, just some low cloud.

The View from the start of the Pony Track, Cadair Idris

Pete and Kath

Trees on the Pony Track

Low Cloud on Cadair Idris

Cadair Idris at the southern end of Snowdonia boasts some great views across Barmouth, North to Snowdon, or, as an alternative you can sit in the hut listening to the wind and rain clatter across the rocks and roof, while you hang dripping waterproofs etc up to see if you can prepare for the rest of the day. The floor was a puddle, the roof was leaking, and the benches narrow, all the while we contemplated waiting 17hours for sunrise tomorrow.

After chatting with some friendly locals who came out for a stroll, and eating and drinking coffee, then looking outside to confirm it was still getting wetter out there, we listened to our inner sane alter egos and decided to forego what was going to be a cold and windswept night and head for lower ground, and at worst a Bed and Breakfast. The trip down was, apart from the slope going down, like the trip up. Wet, windy and little in the way of a view.

Ruins on the way to Glaswyn

Next morning after listening to the wind from the comfort of a warm bed, while eating a full English, we made plans for the day. The Aran ridge, plan A, modified. The forecast for the day was winds with wintry showers, much like yesterday. Arriving at the car park though the cloud was high and breaking with wind ragging the tops of the trees. Kitted for anything we set off up the zig-zag path to our first summit of the day, Glaswyn with its small Tarn. It’s a long pull to the col, and the sight of a road at the top makes you wonder what you’re doing sometimes. But it was worth the walk. The cloud had stayed high although the wind still meant shouting at each other.

The Aran Ridge

Looking down the valley, on the Left, The Aran Ridge.

Llyn Y Fign, Pete and I by the Tarn at Glaswyn.

We stopped for lunch half way down Glaswyn on the way to Aran Forddwy. In a small hollow out of the wind. There is something quite primeval about the battering from a really good bit of windy weather. Hard work but satisfying to compete and win. There was some mixed snow and hail around, but not enough to worry about. As we took in the views today we could see Cadair Idris in the distance, white at the summit. And streamers of sleet and rain passing into the valleys around us. Today we were smiled upon by the walking gods, and only had a few hail showers to deal with.

Near Aran Fawddwy

The summit of Aron Forddwy was icy and the wind picked up to make sure we didn’t stay too long. Just a Mars bar and a biscuit in the shelter at the side of the trig point. The footpath down was more a muddy stream, making our balletic skills shine, pirouetting gracefully back down to the car. Two completely different days, changed plans, but up and down safe both times. Maybe next year we’ll get the right weather to camp in the wild.

Pete and Kath, near the top.

Aran Fawddwy. Summit trig point

The way home

Thanks to Pete and Kath, who once again let me tag along on their trip. It makes a pleasant change for me to be walking with others, and these two always make good company.

The Cairn dedicated to an RAF St Athan mountain rescue team member, Mike Aspin who died in June 1960 aged just 18, after being struck by lightning.

These views are why we visit these places

The Lightning Tree

I want, a different category. I want to climb more mountains, to write more, to see more. I want a good year, better than the last but with room for improvement in 2013.

Looking forward to 2012

For now, remember the journey is more than the destination. Enjoy the trip. I’ve taken the hint from the Dailypost and answered the questions this time. I’ll see you all next year.

Why did you start the Post a Week Challenge?
To give myself impetus to write more. Both Poetry and Prose. I think I have succeeded in this, and hope my writing has improved as a result. I have to thank everyone who has read and liked my work. Especially those of you who took the time to comment.

Describe the state of your blog at the time you started the challenge.
Lacking focus, apart from my starting premise of Poetry and Travel there was not much to hang it on. But this year has been good for inspiration from others around me, and from the places I have visited. Mostly from the support of people around me.

How did your blog evolve over the course of the challenge?
It surprised me how much I enjoyed writing about the places I have visited.

Did you post as often as you had hoped? Why or why not?
I think I have posted more than I expected to. And pushed through writing during busy times. A big achievement for me.

What type of blogging strategy works best for you?
Write as often as possible, and try to write work of a good standard.

If you could go back to the beginning, what would you do differently?
Don’t know, looking back is never good. Look forward and try to know what you want to do differently

What are you most proud of accomplishing this year?
consistency?

Name 3 great blogs you discovered through the challenge.
Pat Beans Blog
Starbear
Gillian Holding

How can I stop there I have found so many interesting places and people. I’ve put some more in later.

What surprised you about the challenge?
How it made a community of many different people.

What advice would you give to others who want to blog regularly?
Write.

What are your blogging goals for 2012?
To post more in 2012 than I did in 2011. To improve my grammar and punctuation.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone, Here’s some more people I have met this year, metaphorically speaking. It’s been a fun ride. No order or priority to this list, just saying hello.

Zendicative
Lesley Carter, travel and adventure
Joybound
C B Wentworth
May Days Are Swell
Broadside
Words vs Pictures
Claire Wade
Planaquarium
Sue Healy

I should probably stop now, there might be a rule against to many links. Anyway, all these and many more. Good luck and happy posting for next year.

Last but most, my wife. She has to live with me while everything happens, thanks and lots of love for everything.

Proper Telephone and post box. In a Devon village.

River Torridge Ramble

The weather forecast on Friday was at best, wet, with the added bonus of strong winds. So rather than head for exposed rocky cliffs I left our chalet and went for a ramble along the River Torridge. There is very little in the way of marked footpaths, so I headed along the bank following the field boundaries and animal trails. There is usually some kind of way along the edges of rivers, though you need to be aware of the streams that will need crossing and the areas of mud and marsh.

The old Motte and Bailey fort marked on the map is all but hidden by the overgrowth of trees, I could tell from the way it commanded high ground over the river that it would have dominated the area in the past, and the name of the area, Woodford Wood and Woodford Bridge, give clues to it’s reason for being. The clouds were low and grey, not stormy, just full with rain that was to pass in thin bands during the day and leaving enough breaks for the sun to bring out the shapes of trees on the skyline and the lush green of riverside vegetation.

The tracks, after a dry summer and recent wet start to December, have become very greasy. It has an upside though, because the rain cleared old traces of animals and left fresh ground to look for the clues to what animals are living along the river. I’m very much a beginner at spotting these tracks and traces but it makes a pleasant change to be slowing down and taking the time to see what’s around in nature, listening to the sounds of the river and woods as you pass.

Along the stretch I found Otter prints, Deer, Pheasant and small bird tracks. Stoat or Weasel, I’m not sure how to tell them apart. Plus many signs of the routes they take through the woods and fields. Slipways into the river, worn paths under hedges and fences, and the holes of smaller rodents.

Winter opens up visibility in the woods and I was lucky enough to see a herd of Deer walking along the edge of a field across the river, A female and about six or seven young. They drifted along before jumping the fence and heading off to wherever they head to live. The river is quite full due to the rain and crossing some of the streams feeding it proved interesting, sometimes you just need to accept you will get wet or muddy, or both. The force of the water can be seen from time to time, in the debris scattered about the banks, or held on a bend in the water itself. Blockages like this will free themselves eventually.

After the narrow tracks of the river, it was all change as I crossed the bridge at Haytown, entering the domain of man. Past the Olde Mill House (It is spelt like that, no artistic licence from me) and into Bulkworthy. Its chapel is plain and dark with the local stone, well looked after and the village consists mostly of Town Farm. It was time now to follow one of the Bridleways that cross the English countryside. Wide and not too sloshy with mud I had views across the river bottom I had just walked along, out over the heaped domes of the Devon hills.

Open country is a different challenge, and some farmers plough footpath anyway to discourage their use. Usually though you can see the trace of the feet of ages crossing the field. Over stiles and through kissing gates. Into the heart of a farm to return to the Chalet. A pleasant stroll around Devon, with only a little rain to dampen the sky.

Windswept Tree

Vine Detail

Mushrooms

Fox

Don't know what this one is.

First view of the River Torridge from the fort

Little feet, Otter I think

River level Marker

More tracks

Bird Feet

Streams to be crossed

Water Rat Hole, small furry creatures.

Mud! If you walk by a river, its expected

River blockage

Vines on Oak

Tree Line and Blue sky.

More Fungus

Small Waterfall

Church Detail

Church Detail 2

Church Wall Detail

I’ll look at the layout of this post later. Sorry if its a bit rough.

We drove across country last night, headlights bouncing of the steep sides of the lane and the bushes above. If we had met anyone coming in the opposite direction it would have been interesting. Tomorrow I am heading out for a walk around the cliffs of the North Devon coast, past Hartland point. There is a storm forecast for this afternoon so I hope tomorrow will be wild and woolly.

Sorry I haven’t replied to anyone this week, internet is intermittent at the moment so next week I will be catching up. We are heading around the country to see family and friends before work starts in January on some renovations and repairs on the house. So it will be Birmingham, Nottingham, Doncaster, Manchester. Then home in Weston-super-Mare for Christmas. In between all of this I hope to be able to do some shopping for presents. Who knows how it will go.

I love Christmas and believe that you should go out and choose gifts for people not just get what they ask for. This does lead to some confused looks but hey, that’s the way it goes. It’s the thinking about someone and choosing a gift that counts.

Should be on track next week anyway, I’ll try to get some pictures of Devon up this weekend.

I have posted off two competition entries this month, so we shall see what becomes of them in the New Year. One requiring more than one poem, occupied some time as I ferreted about in my writing folder making choices, we shall see.

For now, a brief trip across France, soon we should have the time to take the back roads. It is Autoroutes with the comfort of steady speed and light traffic. We arrive relatively fresh and in good spirits, mostly.

The car is as full as it has ever been, more things to be returned to England. This time, we are taking paint back to the UK, a first in seven years of renovating houses in France. It is just before six in the morning, not my best time of day, when the dark and the damp make the final checks worse than normal. Water off, lights off, doors locked, a list we are now fairly good at organising between ourselves. Leaving Rilhac should be simple, catching up with the family, seeing friends and Christmas shopping.

Soon we bump along the back roads through fields clear and ready for winter. Misty water coats the windscreen, enough to be a pain, not enough to need the wipers. When we hit the main road there is a mental line crossed. The point of no return. If we have forgotten anything now it is too late and we won’t be going back for it. Passports and tickets being the last check we make before driving off. The headlights make grey out of the darkness, not much of an improvement but better.

We have four hundred miles to cover before we make Ouistraham and the ferry to Portsmouth. For this early start there is nothing of the mountains to see except black shapes beside the motorway, so we listen to an audio CD, a background sound that passes the miles, comfortable above the rumble of travel. Dawn slides down the hill as we start the long descent into the Allier region.

We passed Clermont Ferrand, its black cathedral and the jelly shaped lump of the Puy de Dome a while back still under cover of low cloud. Now as the sun clears the mist a little, leaving just rain we can see a bit more of the passing French countryside. We are leaving the high ground of the Massif Central, foothills compared to the Alps but still a beautiful place to explore, and we drop about 300m to the Allier. This is the point when we think that’s it, we’ve left. And the point on the return journey when the end is in sight. The Aire du Volcans has one of the best views along the famous Chain des Puys along to The Puy de Dome after which the region is named.

The hills are lower now, rolling through the Centre, past Bourge, Vierzon and then a left turn towards the Loire valley and Tours. It always amazes me how much the scenery changes, and as we cross some of the biggest rivers in time passes quickly. We do two-hour stints at the wheel. A throwback to travelling with Rosie dog, who we lost last year. But taking the time, coffee breaks and snacks make for more enjoyable and less tiring travel.

After Tour, we again head north and pass by Le Man with its 24hr circuit. The services here has one of the sports cars in the lobby. We are getting closer now and as we start seeing signs for Caen, we also start to see the directions to Commonwealth and American war cemeteries. A reminder of the 6th of June, when so much was given by soldiers from around the world. Normandy and we start to smell the sea. Ouistraham, the ferry port, fishing boats. We can almost smell the fish and chips now. In the local bar though, I opt for moule frite. Fresh and done well it is one of my favourite foods. After it’s time for the hotel and bed, ready for the boat in the morning.

Next time I write, we will be in England and building up to Christmas.

I like this time of year, don’t you?