Yasmin - Wanderings, a TravelBlog

Reykjavik

In the morning, feeling rested and refreshed we got off to a leisurely start chatting to Anna and her flame-haired cousin Sigrún about life in Iceland then later in the morning Anna gave us a lift to Laugavegur, the main shopping street in the famous Reykjavík 101 district. We strolled along Laugavegur where the austerely functional corrugated steel architecture of Reyjkavík typefies the Nordic utilitarian spirt and browsed some of the wares in shops aimed sqaurely at the tourist trade. Some beautiful and unique glasswork caught my eye but with Aussie dollars and no safe way of transporting it home I decided not to chance it. Maybe next time I'll be better equipped.

]]> Walking past the modest, unpretentious Parliament Building we continued along the lakefront, pausing at the Town Hall to look at the large topographic map of Iceland and trace our route. We were both a little surprised to see how much ground we'd managed to cover. We spent a couple of hours at the National Museum learning about Icelandic history and a good collection of víking artefacts. I was particular fascinated with the maritime history. How harsh it would be working in open boats in this coldest of oceans! We paused at a coffeeshop for some strong, rich Nordic coffee (mmmmm!) before catching the bus back to Anna and Gunnar's house.

We invited them to join us for dinner and went together to Humarhúsið (The Lobster House) restaurant which is billed as one of Iceland's best restaurants. We had a superb and generous meal of fresh Icelandic lobster. The price for this feast was an arm, leg and firstborn but hey, you only live once and they don't make pockets in shrouds! After dinner Gunnar and Anna took us to Perlan, where a magnificent 360 degree view of the city can be had from the chilly open air viewing deck at the top.

The next day, sadly our last in Iceland, we spent the morning packing our gear before Anna very generously loaned us her zippy little pink car to duck back into Reyjkavík 101 for one last cup of coffee and a stroll around before our airport pickup arrived to drag us away. Ahhh I hope I can come back here one day.

A wormhole and glowing blue water

Our last night of camping was a comfortable one, so much warmer than the other nights had been. It was such a pretty spot and I would have been happy to have breakfast there near the waterfalls but we weren't sure how long it would take us to do what we wanted to on our last day with the hire car so agreed it was better to hit the road and stop for breakfast later. We found a less picturesque spot near a lake and cooked up some rice with curry powder and tuna since that is what was left of our supplies. It was actually quite good (amazing what a little hunger will do for the appetite).

]]> We stopped at the bland little town of Stokkseyri to look at the lava sea wall. It's a bit like a coral reef where the flat rough expanse of lava stretches out for about a kilometre, sheltering the town from any wave action no matter how rough the weather. There we also saw the historic turf house Þuríðarbúð, said to have been the home of one of Iceland's few female boat captains. In the same way I have tried to imagine life in a dark, icy Swedish torpa or the crumbling ruins of a Welsh castle I tried to imagine what it would be like to come home to this tiny, dark, earthen cottage with it's crop of great mushrooms growing on the walls. It was the most difficult task of them all but in the end I think after what must be a bone-cracking cold at sea in the north atlantic, a well insulated little cottage like this must have been a haven of warmth and stillness.

Home sweet home?

We continued on through the curious bleakness of the lava fields of Reykjanes Peninsula the ground is blistered with lava mounds like rounded pustules or boils from some ancient or not so ancient eruption. We stopped at the lava tube at Raufarhóshellir where thin, eerie blue light fell in misty rays with the rain coming through the gaping holes where the tube had collapsed. The light was weak so the photos are not good but they do express the surreal mood of the place quite well. The lava tubes are formed where liquid lava flowed under a hard crust of earth but this dry and dusty fact doesn't detract from the otherworldly atmosphere of climbing over-sized boulders of shattered lava down a winding wormhole into the earth.

We drove on to the tourist must-see of Bláa Lónið, the blue lagoon. The water is a mystical milky blue that seems to glow even in the dark, rainy afternoon. It contrasts starkly with the tarry blackness of lava rubble all around. It's a huge area and on this dismal day late in the season there were very few people there. We spent a couple of intimate hours drifting through the rain in the warmth, scrubbing ourselves liberally with the exfoliating mud from pots placed around the lagoon and generally washing away any grime that remained from our camping trip.

When we were pink and wrinkled from the water we emerged and drove to the home of our couchsurfing hosts Anna and Gunnar. Anna had a delicious pasta dinner ready for us shortly after we arrived and we basked in the warmth and luxury and slept blissfully on her big red couch that night.

Volcanic rift and a giant pipe-organ

After an early start the next morning, and a breakfast of warmed-up leftover pasta from the night before, we drove some 45km up the 4WD only trail to Laki, the highest peak in the 25km long active fissure Lakagigar. It was quite a trek for a side trip but well worth it. The route itself, winding through the vast landscape where rolling hills give way to mossy lava fields, is scenic in it's own right but the view of the rift valley from atop Laki is truly spectacular. The parking area at the base of the peak was surrounded by a light dusting of snow and the distant mountain range, dotted with cone-like volcano peaks straight out of a child's storybook, is crusted with a crisp, icy coating.

]]>

Me doing the cheesy tourist pose

Wildflowers growing up in the black lava gravel

Driving back down towards Route 1 we paused at Fagrifoss to look at the magnificent falls in this deep carved narrow gorge.
(Ok you're right, it was a pee break. We drove off the main track here to look for a rock I could hide behind on this flat, treeless plain because there seemed to be an inexplicable amount of traffic on this remote 4WD track in the middle of September.)

Rejoining route 1 we continued on through the Eldhraun lava fields until we reached the black sand beach at Reynisfjara. The black sand beach has a harsh, cold bleakness, particularly with the icy wind blowing off the ocean that makes it notable enough in its own right. However, the reason it stands out is more for the black sea stacks standing just a mile or so offshore and for the backdrop of basalt columns, reminiscent of a titans pipe organ, fronting the cliff behind the beach.

Seastacks off Reynisfjara

Rock arch at Dyrhólaey.

We camped not far off the highway at a beautiful site near Seljalandsfoss and got our camp set up just in time to watch the golden light of sunset hit the falls.

Snowmobiling on Vatnajökull

With the wind still blowing savagely and rain setting back in after we returned from horseriding Graeme didn't have to work too hard to persuade me to spend another night in the luxury of Arnanes. Dinner at Arnanes is a superb smorgasbord buffet with a surprisingly Mediterranean flavour and afterwards Hási offered me a taste of the Icelandic drink, Brennivín (literally, 'burnt wine'). Hási watched with amusement as my eyes began to water and proudly informed me that it used to be known as 'black death'. Crystal clear, with a distinctly familiar flavour I couldn't identify it was strong enough that my eyeballs were afloat after only one small glass. Undoubtedly Brennivín goes down much more smoothly when drunk in the traditional manner, accompanied by little pieces of Hakarl or putrified shark meat.

]]> In the morning we headed up another rapidly ascending 4WD track through a mountain pass to the lodge Jökalasel on Skálafellsjökull glacier of Vatnajökull icecap. Vatnajökull is the third biggest icecap in the world, the largest being Antarctic and second largest being in Greenland. Nothing prepares you for the sight of such a vast frozen expanse. Climbing beyond the rippled, filthy glacial tongues at the wide openings of the valleys we ascended long ridgetops between deep valley's that rapidly filled with slow, hard rivers of ice. Moving up the valleys the ice has great crevasses caused by the creep of the glacier, crevasses that are close together at the lower areas where the glacier moves faster and more widely spaced higher up.

Arriving at Jökalasel lodge (now closed for the winter but for snow mobiling tours which will operate for the rest of September) we are presented with a close up view of the icecap itself, stretching away below a cerulean blue sky to meet the horizon in a swirling mist of thin cloud. A cloud caused by the brooding Grimsnes volcano, I wonder? We are decked out in thick, insulated jumpsuits, our boots and gloves inspected for suitability and issued with helmets then loaded by our guide onto a boxlike white vehicle shod with thick rubber tracks which took us crawling out on the icecap for maybe 20 minutes to where our snowmobiles awaited. We had strict instructions to stay in single file right in the tracks of the guide and as we moved further onto the glacier it soon became apparent why this was important. Crevasses up to several kilometres long and 50m deep split the glacier at regular intervals either side of the trail. The trail is surveyed at least twice a day for soundness and a Traxcavator is employed on the ice full time packing snow into the crevasses as they move and change, keeping them navigable by the snow mobiles. We passed it as it was wedged tightly into a crevass on a precarious angle while the operator worked on the trail with the scoop. There's a covering of light, powdery snow over the ice that makes it easy to control the snowmobiles but it's a thin covering. Scraping away at the surface with my boot reveals the hard, blue-grey surface of the ice only 12-15cm down. We paused near a particularly menacing looking crevass and were allowed to approach it. We gazed with silent, reverential awe down into the eerie aqua-blue depths for a time, respectfully eyeing thin, jagged sheets like shards of glass lining the sides where the ice had been ripped open by the creeping weight of the glacier. Everyone was particularly diligent about staying in our guides tracks afterwards.

We drove on through this beautiful day to Jökulsárlón, the glacial lagoon, hoping for a better viewing of the floating icebergs this time. We were not disappointed and walked along the shore for some time marvelling at the stillness, the crystal clear air and the sudden sharp creak, pop and splash as pieces broke off now and then.

We got a bit carried away with photos here but look at the place, what could we do?!

We found a camp site in an out of the way place beside the river Stjórn on the 50km long 4WD trail leading to the Laki volcano, which will be our adventure tomorrow

Upside down waterfalls and Icelandic Horses

A lazy start to the morning as we worked out what to do this day. The wind was still blowing savagely but the rain had stopped. I really wanted to go riding on the pretty little Icelandic horses (don't call them ponies!) but our host said it was too windy in the morning but that the weather forecast suggested it might moderate in the afternoon.

]]>
It was so windy in the morning that we saw this upside down waterfall. The wind was so strong it was blowing the water back up over the cliff!

We set off in the Landrover for Lón and found a steep 4WD track up the valley at the eastern end of the bay that our host had said was a particularly interesting drive. We followed it as far as we could until the trail became lost in a broad, sandy river and we couldn't tell where it came out the other side. We turned back and arrived in mid afternoon in plenty of time to be advised that the wind had dropped enough for horse riding. The difference seemed imperceptible to me but I was grateful that we we were able to go.

It was only Graeme and I on the 2hr ride along the base of the nearby mountain range and I was able to ride close enough to our host to quiz him about the Icelandic horses and their history. They arrived with the Vikings during the late 9th Century and these tough little horses were the primary means of transport across the country until as late as 100 years ago. They are the only breed of horse I saw in Iceland but their numbers were plentiful. There's obviously a strong desire to preserve the breed and it's qualities, in addition to being a popular tourist attraction, of course. The horses we were given had kind, gentle natures and I asked Hási if this was typical of the breed. He confirmed it was and that it's a characteristic that is valued highly in them. They are unique in that they're the only breed of horse with 5 gaits - the walk, trot and canter (gallop) that all horses share as well as the pace (where front and back legs on each side move in unison) and the tölt which is a superbly fluid gait in which only one foot is in contact with the ground at a time. It's most like a walk in sequence and I was delighted to be able to experience it. It's so smooth and comfortable and can be sustained at a fairly high speed. We crossed a river below a waterfall and Hási pointed to where we could scramble up beside it and go behind it. No photos because I didn't take the camera. These waterfalls look like thin white threads down the steep cliffs but we were surprised by the volume and power of water and the view of the sinking sun behind the cascade was magnificent.

Graeme looking pretty comfortable on a horse for only the second time in his life.

Glaciers and a savage storm

After a good night's sleep in a much warmer campsite we backtracked a little to Eldgjá ('fire gorge') and had a lot of fun crossing the river there. This was a fissure over 30km long where the earth split in an immense eruption lasting several years around 935AD.

The passage of a thousand years has done little to soften the edges of this scar in the earth

]]>
Good dirty fun!

We made our way back through lava fields blanketed in thick, green and grey doughy-looking moss to rejoin Route 1.

There we headed east across the Skeiðarársandur, that vast, black sand wasteland lying between Skeiðarárjökull glacier and the north atlantic ocean. The flat expanse is broken only occasionally by rounded depressions. I've since learned that these are the places where icebergs, huge chunks of glacier blown free by volcanic eruptions under the icecap, rested for a time after the floods subsided before melting away. Dirty tongues of glacier ooze with the slowness of aeons from between jagged peaks, creeping in a frozen tableau across black volcanic sands. Brewing storm clouds are reflected in milky pools of glacial meltwater. Apparently glacial water is not safe to drink and looking at the colour of it I'm confounded to imagine why anyone would try when this country certainly has no shortage of fresh, crystal clean drinking water.

We paused at Skaftafell for our first close up encounter with a glacier. The ice at the end of these glacial tongues is stained with streaks of dirty black and grey and the surface is buckled into ripples giving them a gritty rawness and a sense of the immense force behind them. Those deep valleys weren't carved easily, even by thousands of tonnes of ice.

During my time in Eden on the far south coast of New South Wales I experienced some savage winds. Southerly busters that blasted uninterrupted across the southern ocean. The storm that struck us as we left Skaftafellö and joined Route 1 east across Skeiðarársandur again was every bit as strong as any of those winds. We were reduced to driving the high profile Landrover in the middle of the road, poking along at 40km/h as the gusts threatened to push us off the road every few minutes. Torrential rain lashed the car and we squinted through wildly slapping windscreen wipers at the road ahead with trepidation thinking of the night to come and the flimsy nylon of our shelter.

We paused at Jökulsárlón, the bay of icebergs, a lake filled with blue tinged icebergs broken adrift from the glacial tongue upstream. Sitting in the car, peering through the downpour and lashing wind we decided not to even attempt to take photos this day. We sat for a while feeling the car rocking on it's suspension as the wind whipped it and enjoyed the awesome power of nature in all it's intensity.

We were well convinced by now there was no way we could stay in the tent this night and began looking for accommodation. The first one we came to was a farmhouse whose yard was strewn with broken, rusty children's toys and a half empty black sandbox and whose front gate was tied firmly shut with baling twine. We knew it offered accommodation because it had an accommodation logo on the highway and a battered handwritten sign euphemistically proclaiming 'reception' stapled under the eave. It showed no signs of life until a weathered old man made his way up the road from a neighbouring building. After 15 minutes using a combination of basic phrasebook Icelandic and sign language Graeme was able to establish that the property belonged to the man's son and he wasn't home. We continued up route 1 until we came to a brightly lit, clean looking farmhouse at Árnanes. With night falling and the wind and rain showing no signs of abating we decide that a bit of luxury was in order!

Forbidding landscapes, lava fields and hot springs

It was still drizzling when we woke and we didn't even bother with breakfast in our haste to pack up our soggy tent and hit the road. Neither of us could see any point in lying in a damp, chilly sleeping bag when we'd only just had a taste of this vast, awe inspiring country.

The active volacano, Hekla. We would have liked to climb it but it would have taken a full day return trip and we didn't think we'd have time. Maybe next time....

]]> Our intention was to make our way up into the Central Highlands region and the interior. We began by heading southwards from Flúðir in order to find a crossing over the river Hvitá.

At Þjórsárdalur is a reconstruction of an historic turf house from the end of the Norse era and is based on a house a short distance away that was covered with ash during a volcanic eruption of Hekla in 1104. In summer it's open and has presentations and lectures on farming techniques of the time but we were a little late in the season for that.

Up to 20 people would have lived in this longhouse during it's heyday as a prosperous farmhouse.

We followed the Tungnaá through a vast region of barren, desolate wasteland. Rocks and mounds of lava nestled amidst gritty black sand and coarse gravel. A dark, rolling expanse with jagged peaks looming in the distance.

We had hoped to continue North East across the top of the immense Vatnajökull ice cap to the ice caves at Kverkfjöll. We stopped at the service station on route 26 at Hraúneyjafossstöð to fuel up and talk to locals about the conditions and were told that route was very unsafe at present and probably not passable. It was a possibility we'd anticipated and only meant a small change to plan B along the safer route continuing on along the Tungnaá as it curved back around to the south east to join with several lakes in the South Central Highlands region.

We left the highway to follow a rough, single-track dirt road known as the Fjallbak route through more dark, rock encrusted wasteland of the the Fjallbak Nature Reserve. We drove up to the deep blue crater lake Ljótipollur (ugly pond!) and admired the panoramic views until another two 4WDs and a superjeep tour arrived making us feel the place was becoming a little crowded.

Unjustly named Ljótipollur (ugly pond!)

Another lake along the Tungnaá - I like how you can see where the lava has flowed down into it.

We came upon the lava fields that surround Landmannalaugar and paused at this beautiful spot to immerse ourselves in the natural hot spring there for a few hours. Mmmmmmmm....

The weather here is so changeable that by the time we set up camp at Hólasköl. We found a little sheltered spot in the lee of a bank of lava and had a much warmer and more comfortable night.

Land of ice and fire!

Some time ago Graeme and I were joking about how hard it is to find a travelling companion who wants to go to Iceland. I've tried to persuade several fellow travellers to go there with me and had no success at all so when Graeme suggested it a few months ago I didn't need to be asked twice!

We booked the tickets and a hired Landrover ages ago so it seemed a little surreal when, after a really busy week, we found ourselves airborne on the three hour flight to Iceland. The flight arrived late at night and an airport transfer and night at the Leifur Eriksson hotel in Reykjavik were all part of the package. We were a little surprised to find our room was a huge self contained apartment in the basement of a building around the corner from the hotel and basked in the the luxury in the knowledge that from then on it would be camping and four-wheel-driving for a week.

The cathedral with sculpture of Leifur Eriksson (credited with the discovery of North America prior to Columbus) which was just across the road from our hotel.

]]> The car was delivered to our hotel early the next morning and I unashamedly buried my head under the covers and let Graeme go out in the morning chill to meet the car company rep, collect the keys and find a place to park it until we'd done our shopping for supplies. We got directions from the hotel reception and made our way to a supermarket that was reputed to be the cheapest place to buy groceries and were able to get pretty much every thing we needed to live for a week in the wilderness without refrigeration. We were surprised to find that it wasn't possible to get powdered or long life milk but later learnt that it's not necessary because the ambient temperature is about the same as the inside of a fridge anyway!

Saw this house while walking around Reykjavik looking for the supermarket

We headed off by the most direct route towards þingvellir (pronounced 'Thingvedlir') along a major road, getting used to the car and sorting out a few navigational issues. We soon established that less skin and fur will fly if I drive and he navigates because even when I apply myself I can really only concentrate on the map for about 35 seconds before I find my attention being drawn by the vast, majestic landscape rolling by and the map slips to the floor in a crumpled, forgotten heap.

Graeme got us to Geysir while I gazed wide-eyed at the scenery and we stopped for a coffee at the roadside cafe and tourist trap. We walked across the road to the area where superheated water bubbles to the surface in small, steaming pools and shoots skyward at regular intervals in a steaming water spray.

A steaming hot spring at Geysir

Geysir

From Geysir we drove on to see the magnificent falls at Gullfoss ('Gudlfoss'). They definitely bring to mind Niagara Falls but are in a barren, wild setting with only the carpark and obligatory cafe/giftshop nearby.

Gullfoss

We had no real plan of where to stop for the night in mind, intending only to make reasonable progress and then look for a suitable campsite after about 6pm while there was still enough daylight left. By 8pm it was starting to get dark and cold, heavy rain had set in for the evening so we resolved to stay at the next one we came across. So Fluþir (Fluthir) it was. Our campsite was almost empty but for one other lonely looking tent and liberally pooled with water. We found a spot free of standing water and got set up as quickly as we could. We managed to get a dinner of pasta cooked before it got completely dark and sat in the warmth of the Landrover to eat it before crawling into sleeping bags for a freezing cold night.

Birthday in Surrey

My birthday fell mid-week and Graeme had a work function on the weekend before so I caught a bus up to Surrey to spend the weekend there with him. We were the only guests in an odd little hotel in Guildford where the owners were apparently still getting the hang of running a hotel. Despite a few teething problems we had to credit their enthusiasm - I'm sure they'll get there in the end.
Friday night was dinner with friends of Graemes at a local restaurant. It was a lot of fun to meet some of his friends and we all had a good night.

]]> Saturday I spent wandering around the town of Guildford. It's a town best summed up in the word 'nice'. It's so clean, polite and orderly and the garends around the castle ruins are immaculately tended.

That night Graeme took me out for a scrumptious dinner at a really nice Italian restaurant. We had a wonderful night and I felt thoroughly spoilt. The following morning, after a leisurely start to the day, we visited Clandon Park, a National Trust historic mansion in the area. In the afternoon we went for a long walk along the trails of a large local nature reserve/park. There were some great views across the countryside and a great chance for us to try out our new camera (I drowned the old one by leaving it outside in a wheelbarrow over night - duh!). It was a wonderfully relaxing end to the weekend.

Clandon House

Bath

Just got back from a week at a beautiful converted barn not far outside Bath. Absolutely amazing, beautiful house. It was converted from an old farm building by it's architect owner and is a beautiful space to be in. Open plan and airy with a great use of space and a design that makes use of the natural features of the old building.

]]> My week was filled with walking the dogs, tending the horses and swimming in the Avon River which runs along the bottom of the property.
The gardens are exquisite and everything is so green and gentle. It's beautiful just to lounge around in the shade surrounded by flowers, the dogs and sometimes the cat, by my side.

There are extensive woodlands nearby and these are cool and shady even on a hot day. There are no hazards except the occasional inconvenience of stinging nettles and I spent many hours exploring and walking through the soothing, green and tranquil woods with the dogs.

The forest is so green and gentle

I spent a couple of days exploring Bath. It's such a pretty city, nestled in the Avon valley amidst hills that give it character. The houses are Georgian and the architecture is unique and charming. It has an air of worldly dignity and a gentrified atmosphersts is everywhere yet it still manages not to be overly commercial and to avoid the temptation to indulge in tackiness. It has an air of worldly dignity and a gentrified atmosphere that seems to linger from a past era. The impact of tourists is everywhere yet it still manages not to be overly commercial and to avoid the temptation to indulge in tackiness

I called in at the Abbey just in time to hear an organ recital played on the magnificent old organ. It was cataclysmic and profound yet clearly a modern piece and beautifully played. I took a seat in a pew in the middle of the cathedral to listen to the resonant grandeur of the music in this most apt of settings.

Beautiful Bath!

Bath Abbey

The only thing that would have made this week better is if Graeme could have been there with me the whole time and to experience this lovely, romantic city with me. Even so, he did drive there and back from work in Surrey every day to be with me in the evenings and that was just blissful.

Kidwelly (Cydweli) Castle

Built with the river Gwendraeth protecting one side, the original castle which now forms the inner ward was built in the 12th Century. Over the next three hundred years it was added on to and reinforced into the well preserved semi-circular fortification it is now.

It was a beautiful day when Graeme and I visited Kidwelly Castle and it looked like there had been some kind of reanactment on before we got there. Some medieval looking tents and displays remained and people were packing up armour and ancient weaponry. Pity we missed it.

The main gate. Originally there was a drawbridge with an iron portcullis beyond it. This is obviously a pretty popular tourist attraction. It's one of the best preserved castles in Wales and there were a lot of people crawling all over it and around it. There are some good displays inside showing the history and notes about the construction and contemporary political situation as well as some tales from the Castle's past.

The curving outer wall of the castle

Graeme checking out an oubliette (prison cell in the floor of the dungeon).

Torture Garden and Buckingham Palace

Every city has it's unique experiences. Things that, while other cities may replicate them or develop their own versions, remain original and best in the city that did it first. Things that are on the must-do list of anyone who wants to experience the heart and soul of a city. London's premier fetish club, Torture Garden, has to be in that category. There is a strict dress code and so, with a little shopping, a little imagination and a lot of enthusiasm we were decked out appropriately and eager to taste London's dark side.

]]> Torture Garden is a feast for the senses and a voyeur's delight. Held in a different venue each time, on this occasion the different rooms of the club hosted different themes and music. From the main hall with fetish fashion shows and performances and high-energy dance music from some awesome DJs to a more laid-back chillout room with a cage performance installation to the dungeon room with shackles, racks, whips and canes where everyone was free to participate or watch as they felt comfortable.

The walls in every room are clearly posted with notices of what is acceptable behaviour and we both loved the atmosphere which was liberal, tolerant and relaxed. Everyone was genuinely having fun, extremely respectful of everyone else and their personal space and personal preferences and there was a strong sense of camaraderie and tolerance. Of course, I loved being able to people-watch to my heart's content without having to worry that I might be staring and with so many dazzling costumes on show it was impossible not to. No cameras allowed of course, so I can't show you.

After getting to bed at around 6am and sleeping in as late as we could before host Craig started preparations for a BBQ he was holding for friends that day we felt a contrasting dose of fine British tradition was in order and what stronger bastion of tradition is there than Buckingham Palace?

The staterooms are open to visitors for a limited time over August so we queued up with about 3,000 other tourists and were effieciently herded through. There's an audio guide included in the cost which gave a very comprehensive background on the areas we saw. Not only is it predictably ornate and lushly furnished but the presentation is flawless and the maintenance is immaculate.

Graeme in front of Buckingham Palace

You can hire a deckchair in the park. 2GBP for 4hrs.

There is litereally not a hair out of place. Nothing shows sign of wear and tear despite the fact it is still in use and even the smallest detail is polished to perfection. A quick walk around the equally immaculate gardens left us just an hour for a short visit to the Tate Gallery. There are still a lot of things we want to see and do here in London so I can see we'll have to come back again soon.

"But wait!" you cry "What did you wear to Torture Garden?" Ahhh... I guess you'll just have to fantasize!

London again

Last weekend was our much planned weekend in London. Graeme took the Friday off work so we could make a long weekend of it and I found us a generous Couchsurfer to stay with (thanks, Craig!) and travelled up to London by train. It's a comfortable three hour trip and I arrived just in time to rush around like everyone else in London. I had arranged to meet someone about a possible house-sit and by the time I found a payphone and got some change together to ring him (my mobile is out of credit) he was actually at Paddington station. He had to get back to work so we quickly covered details of the house-sit as we travelled on the tube then I was off on a series of tube connections to Trafalgar Square where I was to meet our couchsurfer, Craig. Once again I hunted down a payphone and fed it a steady diet of small change before settling beside the Lions and watched a man in a white jumpsuit perform aerial manouevres while suspended by the waist from a white balloon.

]]> Craig arrived not long after this installation finished and another began and that night he cooked an excellent pasta dinner for Graeme and I and we all swapped travel stories over a bottle of red until late in the night.

Friday we attended to some errands and in the morning we found time to walk along the Thames for a while which gave an excellent view of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament.

After lunch we wandered through Camden Markets for most of the afternoon. Easy to spend hours here browsing here but by then some of the stalls were starting to close down so we retreated to Regent Park and found a shady spot to chill out for a while. Back at Craig's an executive decision was made to see War Of The Worlds. We bought our tickets then went to get a pizza. The pizza didn't arrive by the time the movie was due to start so we smuggled it in and I must say it made the perfect feast to have with the movie, despite the fact that most of the topping slid off and ended in a pile at one edge of the box.

Cardiff (Caerdydd)

The next week found me with a little time on my hands so I took the opportunity to go in to Cardiff. It's about 45 minutes on the train from the Rhondda so it's not a bad day trip.

The first day I mostly just walked around, orienting myself, doing a few errands and finding a few minor essentials I needed. The next day I spent there turned out to be much the same. It's not a large city and is free of pretention in much the same way as the Welsh themselves. You can find everything you'd expect or want in a capital city and almost certainly at a better price than the same thing in London.

The enormous Wales Millenium Centre in Cardiff. Residents of Cardiff are very proud of this huge venue which is billed as one of the world's most outstanding arts venues. If you visit Cardiff you'll be asked two things - how you like Cardiff and whether you've seen the Millenium Centre yet (not whether you intend to see it as clearly you'd have to be a cultural cripple not to).

Part of the Cardiff city centre

Misty stone ruins

The last weekend of July saw us in Brynamman once again amidst the fine, misty rain that I now realise is common in the area. The highlight of the weekend was a drive through the Brecon Beacons to the crumbling ruins of Carreg Cennen Castle. Most of what remains of the castle dates from around the 14th Century following the conquest of Wales by King Edward the 1st. It balances atop an exposed limestone tor with a sheer 300ft drop into an ancient glacial valley along one side. It dominates the surrounding rolling green hills with a darkly defiant presence and would have been a daunting prospect for any would-be invader.

Mist-shrouded castle on a rocky clifftop

]]> On this particular day the local Country Show is happening in a field not far away. The atmostphere of exploring the ruins of this medieval demesne is only slightly marred by distant tinny announcements celebrating the winner of the Best of Breed competition.

There were a lot of people also out to visit steely-grey granite ruins on a damp Saturday afternoon but it wasn't long before the rain became more a heavy downpour than a gentle, bucolic mist. Most of them hurried back down the hill to the old farmhouse that acts as gatekeeper against forays of tourists and we found ourselves alone to climb down wet, slippery staircases and climb through the open-roofed, empty chambers. Old stone floors are paved now with short mossy grass rather than old carpets and the uneven walls are slick with wetness where once they would have been swathed in tapestries.

Crumbling ruins

Medieval casement

The patchwork green farmland beyond the castle

The castle on it's clifftop