Time has flown, and a lot has happened since we arrived back in England on Sunday April 29th.
After arriving in Dover our first task was to sell the campervan, so we could get underway with our UK tour by car. We’d only allowed a week for this as it had already been on Autotrader for 10 days and the phone calls were coming in thick and fast. We had no doubt we’d sell it quickly.
Andrew has relatives in the small village of Lyminge in Kent, not far from Folkestone, and this was where we based ourselves for the first week and a bit. His cousin Steve passed away last year, and Steve’s wife Trish was kind enough to lend us her house for a week while she spent the week at her son’s near London. Having this space to get ourselves organised for the next leg of our trip was fantastic. We had a lot of gear to sort through in an attempt to downsize from a 7.5metre van to a hatchback. Two suitcases of clothes were shipped back to NZ and others dropped at the local charity shop.
We were right, the van sold quickly and by the end of the week the deal was done. Funnily enough a New Zealand couple, Mike and Lois, bought it. Now retired, they plan to spend six months every year in Europe. We were chuffed the van was going to other Kiwis and it was very beneficial to be paid in NZ dollars, avoiding any foreign currency transfer fees. They wanted our bikes, so we agreed to throw them in along with some extra bits and pieces, which saved us the trouble of trying to sell them separately or ship them home. When Mike and Lois finally came to collect the van the following Tuesday it was hard not get emotional and there was a lump in our throats watching “our van” drive off down the street and disappear around the corner. But, at the same time it was nice to know that Mike and Lois will be taking it on many more adventures.
Even with a lot of the week being taken up with van-related activities we still made time to catch up with family in the area and get out into the beautiful Kent countryside. Public walkways through the fields and woodlands are everywhere in England and at this time of the year it is truly lovely to be outdoors – hedgerows lush with growth and blossoms and bluebells in abundance. And there’s always the bonus of stumbling upon a quaint country pub at the end of the trail.
Our mode of transport for the UK leg of our journey is a rental car and with the campervan sold and having significantly reduced our luggage we were ready to set off. We’re spending just over three months in England, Wales and Scotland and the plan for accommodation for this part of the journey is a combination of camping, B&B’s and house-sitting.
Our first destination was the Norfolk Broads in the east of England where we planned to reacquaint ourselves with camping. As it was late afternoon when we left Lyminge we decided to stop for the night in Ipswich on the way. With Ipswich being inland we were surprised and disorientated to find signs through the town with directions to an historic waterfront and were more surprised to find a marina stocked with yachts and a well-developed waterfront area complete with bars, restaurants and apartments. This harbour is part of the river Orwell which turns into an estuary at Ipswich and although it’s still 10km to the mouth of the river is wide enough and deep enough to navigate sizeable boats through, giving the town the illusion of being coastal – a redeeming feature for an otherwise ordinary town.
The next morning, we were off to Norwich and were both immediately taken by this lovely town. It has everything you could ask for – a castle, a cathedral, charming cobbled lanes lined with quaint historic shops and a 900-year-old market. City volunteers stood on street corners handing out maps and answering questions. We were advised to visit the castle and cathedral so headed off in that direction. There have been so many grand cathedrals throughout our travels and Andrew is tiring of them a bit, but obligingly he followed me through the streets to the imposing Norwich Cathedral. The rule is, if the entry is free he’ll come in with me otherwise he leaves it to me. Norwich Cathedral had free entrance and we were greeted at the door with a very warm welcome. The greeter recognised our accents and waxed lyrical about the beauty of New Zealand before explaining the history of the place and enthusiastically telling us of the peregrine falcons nesting in the spire, the second-tallest spire in the UK that is. It was a lovely building and worth the visit, although we didn’t see any falcons. We walked back into town past the castle and through to Norwich market which proved a great choice for lunch – amazing Vietnamese fusion noodle soup eaten on a step in the sun. Andrew was quick to notice that nearly everyone else was eating piles of chips and other unidentifiable deep-fried objects. The English love their chips, and it shows.
It was time to head out of town and into nature. The Norfolk Broads are Britain’s largest nationally protected wetland – a network of rivers, lakes (broads) and marshes teeming with plant and birdlife. Amazingly enough they are man-made. They are the result of medieval peat mines being flooded. Peat was dug in east Norfolk up until the 14th century, when finally, nature proved too strong and the massive holes that had been created gradually began to fill with water until peat extraction was no longer possible. What was left was 200 kilometres of navigable waterway that have become a recreational wonderland. We spent two relaxing nights camping at a farm near the village of Belton, surrounded by the wetlands. We spent our time doing not much apart from a few walks through the wetlands, past historic windmills, ruins of ancient fortifications and stone churches, piebald gypsy cobs grazing in the fields and loads of birds of all shapes and sizes. The land here is so flat that from a distance the boats sailing along the waterways look like they’re floating over the fields.
Neither of us had been camping for a very long time and we were unsure how we’d cope. We surprised ourselves, we loved it and will definitely be being doing more of it.
When we left Kent, we had two weeks before our first UK house-sitting stint started and compiled a list of places to visit before then, so after two nights camping we packed up and headed north towards Lincoln. On our way, in the north of Norfolk not far from the Broads, was Sandringham House, the private residence of the Queen and the country retreat of four generations of monarchs since 1862. This is where the Queen and the royal family spend Christmas. Each year photos come out showing the family walking from the house to St Mary Magdalene Church in the grounds of Sandringham Estate, accompanied by the gossip about who has or hasn’t been invited for Christmas that year. It was a beautiful day, and the estate was looking splendid, flourishing with summer growth. Surprisingly there were not too many tourists around. The warm welcome at the gate house ticket office continued through to the house itself where guides in each of the rooms struck up conversation the moment we entered and happily answered all our questions. We were taken aback by how friendly and relaxed the atmosphere was. The house is exactly as it is when the Queen is in residence, which is both oddly voyeuristic and intriguing. At the entrance of the house is an exquisite statue of the Queen’s horse Estimate, winner of Royal Ascot’s Gold Cup in 2013. The real Estimate lives nearby at the Queen’s Royal Stud. Along the path past beautifully manicured box hedges are the old stables that have been converted into a museum housing some exquisite vintages cars, most of them purpose built for accommodating hunting parties on the estate. The expansive park-like grounds are stunning and the gardens beautiful, it’s no surprise over 200 people earn a living from the Estate, including farmers, foresters, gamekeepers and gardeners.
From Sandringham we drove through to Lincoln. It was late, and we went straight to our accommodation at a pub on the outskirts of town. The next morning, we spent a couple of hours exploring this pretty market town. It’s another with the “works” – a magnificent medieval cathedral and castle, and quaint white-washed half-timbered houses on winding cobbled lanes strung with Union Jack bunting. Understandably this town is very popular with tourists and most popular is the famous Steep Hill, the street that connects St Marks Shopping precinct ‘downhill’ and the Cathedral Quarter ‘uphill’. Yes, it is very steep as its name suggests, but so very cute.
Next it was on to another famous piece of England that needs no explanation – Sherwood Forest. We walked through the oak forest and visited the famous Major Oak that is around 1,000 years old and would have watched over Robin Hood and his Merry Men when they ruled this forest. It looks like its days may be numbered as its heavy limbs are being held up by wooden supports, but it is still incredibly beautiful. Further on, the forest opened on to Edmonstowe cricket ground where a provincial village cricket match was underway. We sat and watched for a while and got talking to one of the club members who suggested Andrew might want a game as they were one man down. Maybe not said Mr Love. A quick visit to the church where Robin Hood supposedly married Maid Marion and we were on our way to nearby Kirkby in Ashfield where we had booked a room in an old Police Station turned B&B.
The next morning the sun was shining, and we were off to the Peak District. The Peak District became a national park in 1951, the first in the country and despite being in the heart of industrialised England it feels very remote with a stunning landscape of rolling hills criss-crossed by stone walls and dotted with sheep, and with steep wooded valleys concealing rivers. It was a glorious late spring day, perfect to get be outdoors. I’d seen a walk in a guidebook through the Dovedale gorge and we set out to find it. Everyone else had the same idea. After winding our way through narrow lanes and up and down hills we came to the picturesque village of Ilam, a cluster of Swiss-style cottages at the foot of a hill, where the Dovedale walk began. The parking lot was almost full, and they were charging 3 pound a car. We are quickly discovering that in England parking is never free. We paid and set off along the valley – with every man and his dog. Yes, it was lovely walking along the Dove river and the limestone gorge was very picturesque, but there were just so many people and there was even a queue to cross the river at the ancient stepping stones.
Thankfully there were a lot less people a few miles up the road at the Arbor Low Stone Circle. This is a Neolithic henge monument from between 3,000 and 5,000 years ago. Made up from around 50 limestone megaliths which were excavated from a nearby Stone Age quarry the circle sits on a small hill in the middle of a lush dairy farm. The access is through the farm yard for a token payment of a pound to the farmer. The huge rocks are mostly lying on their sides, but the circle is still perfectly intact and its fascinating to wonder what sort of ceremonies took place here all those years ago. Andrew rolled his eyes at being dragged up to see a “couple of rocks”, but secretly I think he was impressed.
We continued our drive through the prettiest countryside and through story-book villages. Bakewell was particularly cute, a charming little town bustling with activity. That night we stayed in Buxton in an old Georgian guest house on the edge of the Pavillion Gardens. Buxton is unlike the other towns in villages in the area, instead of quaint and cute it is elegant and even a bit opulent. It has been famous for its mineral waters sine Roman times and was transformed in the 1780’s when the fifth Duke of Devonshire decided to create a stylish spa here in imitation of Bath and commissioned elegant Neo-classical buildings. Buxton remained popular in the 19th century gaining the lovely Pavilion Gardens and the ornate 1905 Opera House which is still used for many West End productions that visit the area. The baths are now a shopping centre with beautiful Victorian tiles. We took the suggestion from the landlady and had a very good curry for dinner. Back at the B&B we couldn’t get into our room. We tried both keys multiple times and much to our frustration neither worked. Finally, we called landlady who was out enjoying her only night away from the B&B in weeks and dragged her back to have her simply turn the key and let us in. Well, we felt a bit stupid.
The next day we wound our way down through the Peak District with more incredible views, and through to the village of Ironbridge on the banks of the River Severn. The village got its name from the bridge that straddles the river, the world’s first cast iron bridge erected in 1779. This now world-famous industrial monument is considered the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution. English Heritage is currently working on a one-million-pound restoration project to repair parts of the bridge and as a result it is covered in scaffolding and sheets. Instead of taking away from the experience it surprisingly enhanced it as there were viewing areas all along the bridge allowing us to see the conservation work in action and the English Heritage staff were incredibly obliging in explaining what was happening and pointing out where the repair work is needed on the ornate iron framework. The historic toll house at the other side of the bridge houses a museum telling the stories of the people involved with the bridge’s construction and some of the opinions on its aesthetics at the time. We thought we’d be there for a few minutes on our way through to Shrewsbury but ended up staying almost an hour.
Shrewsbury was our next destination and marked the furthest west we’d go before heading back to our house-sit in Suffolk. Shrewsbury is famous for its historic Tudor centre filled with quirky streets lined with half-timbered houses. There was also the medieval, red-brick Shrewsbury Castle to visit, along with St Chad’s Church where Charles Darwin was christened in 1809, and the statue of Darwin proudly sitting outside the town’s library (his former school). We met two retired Australian women at the castle who had left their husbands back in Melbourne and were on a five-week trip-of-a-lifetime around the UK, their first time overseas.
After a night in a loft above an historic pub we left Shrewsbury and headed east as we were due in Suffolk the following day. A stopover in lively Lichfield for lunch and to visit another cathedral, this version an impressive red brick three-spired medieval one, and then through to Peterborough for the night. Almost every town in England seems to be blessed with a cathedral and all are touted as the biggest, tallest, oldest, or best of something or other. Peterborough has one too, a very impressive one at that with a magnificent Gothic façade. While we were there the boys choir was practising, their pure clear voices filling the cavernous nave.
The next morning, we drove the short distance to Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk and to the home of Steve and Vanessa and their three sheltie dogs, Titch, Barney and Archie. This would be our base for the next two weeks.
