Anyway, what a beautiful start to the morning. We couldn't remember the last time a morning had been so clear and bright. Marge's side door open, the view was fantastic. The low tide exposed rocks blackened from the changing tide.
High up
on the cliff three black cows, like tiny models grazed unaware we were watching
them. The couple in the van in front of us, were from Harrogate, Yorkshire.
They had travelled far enough. People weren't friendly, there was hardly
anywhere to stop free, campsites had doubled in price. The man's brother lived
in Aberdeen (about three hours up the coast). that was too far to travel to,
plus it would be cold up there. They arrived around six yesterday evening,
walked to the toilet over by the nearby cafe and no further. Why not take a
little time to look around the place properly? Ask him if he's enjoying his
holiday? Stop it, Marge. Talking of toilets. There were free showers as well.
So off we went. Unfortunately, the ladies were out of order, so we asked the
harbour master if Angela could use the one in the gents whilst John kept cave.
Go for it. So, she did. The water was very hot; besides that, they were a
little dismal. But hey, they were free, and we'd been in worse whilst cycling
in France.
Right Marge change of plan. Today we will sadly leave Scotland. To avoid zig-zagging across Scotland and then dropping in to England we had decided to follow the east coast down. We felt a little sad about leaving a country we have fallen in love with but knew this day would come. At fourteen minutes to twelve we were at the border with England, stopping in the lay-by to take photographs.
Ten minutes later. Welcome to Northumberland Marge. You're
back in England now. Be prepared for a little hostility, we've heard the locals
have not been very friendly towards the vans this year. Perhaps we should
purchase a Northumberland car sticker to place on your rear.
Our stop tonight is Bamburgh. A small village famous for its
castle. No overnight parking signs are everywhere except up near the golf club,
so that's where we are with views to Holy Island (Lindisfarne) and the Farne
Islands. Tomorrow we hope to visit Holy Island, so will leave early to catch
the low tide so we can cross the causeway.
Mid-afternoon we walked across the sand dunes to the castle. Huge rolling waves crashed onto the beach. The surf up, the surfers taking advantage. We stopped and watched them a while. Bamburgh castle stands one hundred and fifty feet above the beach, dominating the village. The red sandstone at the lower level weathered by the elements was like an intricate carving. We purchased hot drinks from The Pantry, adjacent to the cottage where Grace Darling died at the age of twenty-six of tuberculosis. Besides the castle, the village is famed for being both her place of birth and death. The nearby RNLI museum celebrates the life of Victorian Britain's famous heroine who risked her life alongside her father to save nine survivors of the wrecked SS Forfarshire on September 7th 1838.
In the museum there are personal items, letters and family portraits that help to tell the story of Grace's life. There is even a remnant of the cloak she was wearing on the day of the rescue and the actual coble rowing boat her and her father took to sea that day.
Opposite the
museum is St. Aiden's church which we also visited to see the Grace's grave and
memorial. Inside the church there is a Grace Darling memorial stain glass
window. Where we live in Poole there is a retirement complex near to us called
Grace Darling House. For those who don't know, Poole is the home of the RNLI,
their headquarters and training college are there.
Returning to Marge, we noticed the sun was setting. The sky first
orange, then red, bleeding into the late evening sky. We walked up onto the
golf course to the second hole watching an ever-changing sky. You two taking up
golf? No Marge, we've taken up chasing sunsets. What do you think about being
back in England Marge. It's very cold. Yes, it is, bit of a shock, isn't it?
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