20 weeks

20 weeks and

42 beds slept in
25 islands visited including Ireland and Britain
4 different countries
19 ferry rides
6  hire cars
4 plane flights
10 train trips
14? bus rides
2 taxi rides
17 books read
53 blog posts
? thousands of km travelled and ? hundreds of km walked
? thousands of photos taken
2 journal notebooks filled
1 book proof read and sent to the printers

What have I learned?

That I don't like hostels and backpacks. Hotels are ok occassionally. Self catering cottages and apartments are the best home-away-from-home.

It is not possible to travel well only using public transport. It restricts when and where you can go and how long you can stay there, especially outside cities. A car really is essential for maximum travel freedom and wandering adventures. The only place public transport works is in a city.

I don't like driving in cities, or trying to park in cities. I don't like cities much at all. They stress me out after the second day, even without the stress of driving in them.

I do like travelling. I feel very at home wandering from place to place, settling in to each new 'home', exploring, learning, being inspired by all the different landscapes and their stories.

Have I answered the question I asked in the first post of this journey?: "Is it possible that there is something in my DNA that draws me powerfully back to the island(s) of Britain (and Ireland)? Is Britain (and Ireland) more my 'Country' than Australia?"

Yes and maybe. There is something essentially human and spiritually important about knowing who your ancestors were, how and where they lived, what was important to them and how that has flowed down through time, travelling around the world and passing down through the blood of previous generations and in to your own veins to influence who you are. I feel very at home in Scotland and England and Ireland. But I also feel my home is in Tasmania and I am looking forward to being back there. Somehow though, the big island of Australia feels more like a foreign land. Perhaps the milder climate, the greener countryside, the rockier mountains, the older buildings and the European trees planted in Tasmania combine to make it feel a little more like the lands of my ancestors and something in my DNA responds to that. 

So, I stand on the edge of one Country thinking about another, and at the end of one adventure looking forward to the next one. What lies out there beyond the horizon? The end of one adventure in life is simply the beginning of the next. 

All photos in this post were taken by Sheryl. Are we still friends after 20 weeks of each other, and would we do it again? Surprisingly - yes!

Dogs

The Brits love their dogs! They seem to allowed everywhere. We have seen them on buses and trains, in cafes and pubs, in historical and tourist sites - everywhere. Here are just a few from our past week in Devon.

Waiting for the train.

 Waiting for the wife while shopping.

 Oh, a cat - let me chase it, please!

 Waiting for the owners to stop visiting. Why can't I come in too?

At the beach.

 Having a break from shopping.

 Watching over the kids at the beach.

 Coffee time. Will there be cake?

 His and hers.

Playtime.

 Can I play too?

 Waiting for the wife in the shops, again.

 Of course, she will carry me.

 Don't let go of the leads. We don't want to get blown off the cliff.

 A British Bulldog. True love.

The last hike

Exmoor National Park. A 9km walk to England's highest sea cliffs.

We left the tiny seaside village of Combe Martin as the locals were arriving for a day at the beach on what turned out to be a perfect day for walking. Clear sunny skies, a fresh breeze and temperatures below 20.

We walked up and up what the locals call Coronary Track, stopping half way for morning tea from our trusty thermoses.

Along ancient tree covered paths.

Cattle with views to die for.

Finally we arrived at some wilder, less humanized landscape. It felt good to be up high, away from the people, out in the open space with horizons that seemed to stretch forever.

The Hangman cliffs. Greater Hangman at the top of the photo is where we sat and ate our lunch with 360 degree views, inland to Dartmoor and across the sea to Wales. Stunning. This is the highest point of the 600 mile long South West Coast walking path. Hmm, a future trip, perhaps? The hill is 318m high and its cliffs drop 214m to the water.

Then we walked back to Coombe Martin and bought an icecream. It seemed the right thing to do at the beach, and after a decent walk up some big hills.

We could not have asked for a better day for our final walk in Britain. It seems a fitting end to our trip which began with walking the West Highland Way.

A living museum

People have lived for at least 2500 years in this very steep narrow valley that leads down to a small sheltered harbour on the north Devon coast. The village of Clovelly is privately owned. Yes, the entire village has belonged to just three different families since the 13th century.

 

No vehicles can access the very steep main street which leads 120m down to the sea. Small sledges pulled along by hand are used for deliveries.

 Donkeys were used in the past but now they just amuse the tourists.

After parking at the top of the hill and paying an entrance fee, we walked down the cobble stoned street, patting cats and inspecting the two small chapels and the museum house set up as a fisherman's cottage.

 We had lunch out on the terrace of a tea room with a pretty good view.

 We walked all the way down to the harbour and out along the high harbour wall.

 The low tide gives walking on the beach a new meaning.

A delightful and fascinating day.

Martin, Louisa and Arthur

We thought that seeing as we were in the neighbourhood we'd pop over the border in to Cornwall and go visit some old friends.

Louisa and Martin's place. The tide was out at Port Isaac (Port Wenn) Louisa's school up on the left and the Doc's surgery on the right.

The streets are as steep and narrow as they look on the tv.

School's out. 

Arthur's castle at Tintagel - well, it is where the legendary King Arthur is supposed to have been conceived.

And Merlin's cave is down at the bottom of the cliff too.

Well, Arthur has been long gone, and Martin and Louisa weren't home either. I guess I'll have make an appointment...