Visit NI!

A typical summer's day on the North Antrim coast -

Starting with a stroll in Port Bradden,

followed by an icy cold a refreshing swim at Ballintoy.

Then you walk along the cliff path towards Carrick-a-Rede,

to cross the rope bridge like the fishermen of old - and the tourists of new.

Then back to Ballintoy for lunch on the pier.

You're welcome, Northern Ireland Tourist Board.

p.s. honesty compels me to point out - for the sake of any innocent tourist who may be planning a trip to Ireland - although these places are always beautiful, they're not always this sunny.

Seals and Selkies

Walking near the Smugglers' House on Rathlin, I heard the loud and unmistakable sound of snoring.  I could see some seals in the water, but it couldn't be them - because the sound persisted even when they went underwater.  I looked around for some stray smugglers who might have sampled too much of their wares, but there were none to be seen.

Eventually (and because one of them moved) I realised that what I thought were piles of driftwood were actually lounging seals.  They had arranged themselves on the rocks and in the rock pools.  Some were entirely out of the water, others had their noses and the tips of their tails out - but their bellies submerged.  They were snoring and sighing and snuffling and calling to each other in very human-like tones.

And the legend of the selkies - creatures who are seals in the water, but abandon their skins or cloaks on land and take human form - made perfect sense to me.  I could see the seals becoming human - or I could imagine myself putting on a seal cloak and diving under the waves.

Would it be to much to ask, in my selkie life, for a seal husband who doesn't snore?

Porquerolles

So let's see, I was in Australia until the end of May, then I was in Ireland, then I was in France, then I was in Ireland and now I'm BACK in France, but will return to Ireland next week and then go on to Finland.  I think that's right.  (Incidentally, woo!  Finland is a new country for me and I'm very excited to visit Helsinki.)

The first trip to France at the beginning of June was booked months ago: I had promised to accompany my sister and her menagerie to the island of Porquerolles for a long weekend.  I would be the resident au pair while my sister and George attended a conference.  I jumped at the chance of spending time with two of the adorable nephews (there is a third; he lives in Canada - but I don't want him to feel left out) and going to an island (islands are among my many obsessions.)

Porquerolles lies just a few kilometres off the Cote d'Azur and is itself only a few kilometres long and is mostly owned by the state and preserved as a national park.  You get to it by ferry from Hyeres, where you have to leave your car as the island is a no-car zone (except for the few permitted to locals).  Gregory was absolutely beside himself to take the ferry boat (or did he mean fairy boat?) though slightly nervous when he asked about pirates and the captain looked at him seriously and said, 'but I'm a pirate, you know.'

There is a village on the island, some vineyards, a fort, many beautiful beaches and some private houses.  All you need for a weekend holiday.

We rented bicycles (I love Alex's expression in this photo: 'I'm kinda nervous about this, but I trust you ... I think)

and rode along pretty paths under leafy canopies, stopping every now and then to look at the sea (or nap.)

We ate delicious glaces.  (Some of us are just learning about ice cream and make funny faces when we take a bite.  Doesn't stop us from consuming with gusto, however.)

We went to the beach.  (Some of us swam.  Some of us ate sand.)

Liberated from au-pair duties, we drank wine in the village square.

I walked up to the fort at sunset: incredible views -

AND went running first thing in the morning.  Here's Plage Notre Dame where I sat in perfect peace watching the sun over the water.

Such a beautiful place - I highly recommend, though be warned: accommodation is scarce and can be expensive.

Glowing

Today I drove from Picton (Marlborough Sounds) to Hokitika, 400km in all, through very Alpine scenery.

I can’t say that it was the most riveting day, though, and this is one of very few photos because (as previously noted on this blog) driving and photography are mutually incompatible activities. But I made it safely to Hokitika, which is about half way down the South Island’s west coast and I’m staying at a very sweet B&B – the kind with homemade biscuits. Yum.

Instead of telling you about today’s route (the 1 and then the 6 and then the 65 and then the 6 again and then the 69 and then the 7 and then back on the 6) can I tell you more about my blissful weekend?

On Saturday, fortified by French toast (with bacon, my FAVOURITE thing) I went for a 5 hour hike along the Queen Charlotte Track. Lots of up and down so I think the French toast was deserved. My feet weren’t entirely happy to be back in hiking boots, but I ignored them and admired the scenery.

On Sunday I soaked up the sun, read my book, drank wine, went swimming … I do these things so you don’t have to. But I think the highlight (pun alert!) of the weekend was last night when I walked up the hill to look at the stars. I had no torch (my ipod was doubling as music and light source) and it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. But still I thought I was seeing things when the stars came at me at knee height. After a freaked-out moment, I realised that the little lights I was seeing through the trees weren’t stars at all – they were glowworms. Oh, they were lovely, lighting my path up to the observatory. (The observatory consists of a cluster of hammocks at the top of the hill.) At the top of the hill, I climbed into a hammock and looked up at the stars. I recognised Orion and the Southern Cross (I think) – there were also several planes and one that might have been a satellite. It was so beautiful that I cried a little bit (yes, okay, I had had two glasses of wine, but still) because sometime I feel very lucky to be a Lady Traveller and see the things I’ve seen.

*

As a bonus for Anonymous who did my research for me and discovered that the Isle of Innisfree did, in fact, used to do the Dublin-Holyhead run, here’s a picture of her:

Three Days in Paradise

Oh you in the Northern Hemisphere – if you don’t want to turn an unbecoming shade of green, you might want to stop reading now. For I am in paradise.

This morning I got the ferry from Wellington to Picton. On the open deck, a man came over and sat down beside me. ‘Hghuten morgen,’ he said. I can’t prove it, but he didn’t sound German and, for the purposes of my theory that Wellington=Switzerland, I’ve determined he was in fact Swiss. In fact the ship was chockablock with Germans, Scandinavians and Icelanders – I think they might have outnumbered the New Zealanders. I wasn’t the only Irish person though – a board in the lobby revealed that the ship used to be known as the MV Isle of Inisfree … I think I might have crossed the Irish Sea in her a time or two.

The Cook Strait is notorious for offering a bumpy crossing, but we were lucky and it was relatively calm – though the wind blew like a bizem (is that a real saying or just something I made up?) - enough to clear the deck once we were out of Wellington Harbour. The last hour of the journey is through the fjord-like Marlborough Sound (is that why so many Scandinavians - they have to try to visit ALL the fjords, the same way Muslims are obliged to try to visit Mecca?)

At Picton I had to get a water taxi (isn’t that wonderful?) but by the time I got to the dock it was ten past twelve and my taxi had been due to leave at midday (the bags were very slow to get off the ferry). But in an example of kindness I’m discovering is very typical of New Zealanders, the taxi driver (skipper?) saw me at the pier ‘looking lost’ (as he put it) and came back for me.

A 15 minute whip across the bay brought us to Lochmara Lodge = Paradise. This is an eco lodge that you can’t drive to: it’s only accessible by foot or boat. The accommodation is not particularly fancy, but the setting is glorious. There is a café on site, tame birds wandering around, a sculpture trail and a grove of hammocks at the top of the hill. I found these this afternoon when I went up with my camera. I curled up in a hammock and fell asleep for two hours. How’s that for relaxation?

Tomorrow I’m planning to take my packed lunch (courtesy of the café) and walk along the Queen Charlotte Track. Right now, I’m planning to have a glass of wine and an early night. I can hear the beautiful birds calling and the sound of the waves from my room. Oh, it’s enough to make you sick.

Pretty Williamstown

Packing for NZ/Canada/Home has commenced. Despair is likely to follow soon. I'm avoiding the issue by looking at pictures of Williamstown. It's a pretty seaside village/suburb of Melbourne where I went a few weeks ago to take the saltwater cure for my toes.

Pretty pier where you can buy seafood off the boats,

pretty boats,

more pretty boats (if you squint you can just see the skyscrapers of the CBD in the background),

pretty old people on the beach, cackling in Greek (+ birds cackling in bird):

and my absolutely, positively non-pretty feet - trust me that it's better that you see them covered in foam.

Shades of Grey

Where were we? There was rain, there were clouds, we watched the rain, we stared at the clouds ... and then on the third day the sun rose again and there was light. Grey light, strained through stormclouds, but light all the same.

We trekked to the beach and, while Stu surfed, Sunny licked sea water from her fingers, Georgie chased Sunny and I took photos.

And although the scene may have been far removed from the conventional Australian stereotype of blue skies and white sand, it was still beautiful.

Hard to see where the sky started and the sea stopped.

Great Ocean [Road] Rain

People rhapsodise about the Great Ocean Road. It's one of Australia's Must-Sees. But not necessarily when seen through a veil of rain ....

Yes, sadly the weekend I spent with Georgie and Stu and Sunday in Anglesea was the weekend when Victoria decided to remind me of seaside holidays spent in Donegal. Watching the rain. Rushing outside when there was a break in the rain - only for it to start raining again.

Deciding the rain had to stop sometime, we went for a drive and I took photos. Of the Hawaiian dancer in the rain.

And the rain out of the passenger window.

Eventually we did the only sensible thing and sought refuge indoors. We went to Wye River General Store - an upgraded local shop with a very nice cafe (though on the pricy side) and a fire.

(Georgie checking out the offerings.)

I chose a lemon tart. I chose wisely. It was was delectable.

Sunny recommends the chocolate milkshake.

Coffee drunk, cakes eaten, we went back outside to watch the rain some more.

Lighthouse Envy

I love lighthouses.

I fantasise about owning a lighthouse with a sweet little keeper's cottage beside it. I'd probably sleep in the cottage, but have my workroom in the lighthouse and also AMAZING parties.

I would fall asleep every night listening to the sound of the sea.

This specimen, at Aireys Inlet on the Great Ocean Road, would fit the bill very nicely.

Before and After

Camp Cove, Sydney, 11 July:

Camp Cove, Sydney, 7th November:

Winter palette:

Summer palette: