The Sun Never Sets in Durham

Though not strictly true, it sometimes feels as though these long summer days are endless. Where I live in the US, I tend to experience about fifteen hours of daylight during the height of summer. From 5:30 in the morning to 20:30 in the evening, I ride my bike, go hiking, take long drives, visit botanical gardens, and on occasion I enjoy the sandy beaches of my home state. I thought I knew what long summer days were. Then I moved to Durham.

Now at first mathematical glance, it doesn’t seem that it could be too different a sensation from home. Durham has about eighteen hours of sunlight at the height of summer. The sun rises at 4:30 and sets just before 22:00. What possible difference could three hours make?

Quite a lot.

I never realised just how much my routine is tied to the sun. Had I any inclination to spirituality, I might now consider becoming a sun worshipper. I have often found myself waking up at 5:30 with the bright sunlight streaming through my window as though it were 9:30. I have sprung out of bed fully believing that I was late for my morning CrossFit class. The benefit to this is that when I wake up, I am up. I don’t feel groggy like I do when I’m at home and the mornings are greyer. The downside is that I’m fully awake at 5:30 for no good reason and the sun will not let me go back to sleep.

Another issue I’ve run into has been forgetting to eat dinner. You would think that I would just eat when I’m hungry, but this doesn’t seem to be the case, much to my own surprise. On more occasions than I care to remember I have gotten to 21:00 and realised I haven’t had anything to eat. It’s that damn sun again. The sun was telling me it was 18:30 and that it was just getting to be dinnertime, rather than it being well past dinner and getting on to  bedtime.  

Then there is bedtime. Going to bed when it is still daylight feels odd. Terribly odd.

There are plenty of other places in the world where the differences in sunlight are so drastic that the sun doesn’t set for months. I’ve often wondered what that must be like. I sure hope I get to experience it sometime. I think I’ll just need to set an alarm to remind me to eat dinner before the month is out.

This is what it looked like at quarter after eight during the first week of June.
This is how it looks around quarter to nine now.

The Road Goes Ever On...to Hadrian's Wall (Part the Third)

Our band of merry travelers, weary from walking through pastures and from the constant presence of sheep find themselves mysteriously on the forest moon of Endor where they decide to stop for lunch and potentially a tangle with Imperial troops garrisoned ahead. 

After passing through a wooden gate we found ourselves in the middle of a shady forest filled with conifers. The air was cool and thick and I was convinced that at any moment a fuzzy Ewok would pop out of a fallen tree stump and begin to poke us with spears. It was quiet and still. The perfect place for lunch.

We settled into a nearby tree and began to unpack our food. My sandwich had not fared well in my pack and it tasted rather off. Thankfully the deviled eggs were perfect. We ate in relative quiet glancing around every now and then in case we spotted any scout troopers.

As we munched happily Alex confessed to us, “You know, at the beginning of this year I never would have thought that I’d be here doing this with you guys"

We all cracked jokes in response remarking that none of us could have known we'd somehow make it to Endor. Truthfully, we all felt the same as Alex. We had begun as strangers a year ago and now we were all friends whose personal stories were inextricably woven together. We had been through difficult papers, each had setbacks and moments where the goal seemed unreachable. Now we were nearing the end of our time together and we found ourselves on the edge of a grove of conifers sharing a small adventure together. We returned to our contemplative silence as we finished our lunch.

The route through Endor was muddy and my new trainers had not fared well by the time we emerged from the trees. I rubbed my shoe on the grass in the next field but I knew it was in vain. I resigned myself to a fate of scrubbing them off in the shower later that evening. 

The sun was still high in the summer sky though it was now veering toward the west preparing for a lazy trek toward the horizon. We found a sign along the main road which promised a tea shop ahead. We all looked at each other. 

Teas.

So that was what the mysterious entry on the map had meant. It was fairly obvious I suppose but it could have meant anything. An abbreviation of some sort or perhaps...alright, it had been fairly obvious all along. The sign listed the hours and our hearts sunk when we realised we would reach it just minutes after it closed for the evening. We imagined a diminutive, old lady with a kind face turning us away gently with an "I'm terribly sorry, my dears." What we couldn't know was that this same kindly woman was in fact a Tea Witch who could transform herself into a muscular, bearded biker at will and would close the shop early to hop on her hog and ride off into parts unknown. 

Sorry to interrupt this story, but you should know that at this point we had been hiking at least ten miles and our stories were beginning to grow more strangely with each step.

As we entered into yet another field of sheep, we found our way ahead blocked by one of the creatures. Surely it would move eventually. As we neared it continued to stand in the path staring us down with a boldness that defied its race. It had to have been enchanted perhaps by this self same Tea Witch who had only moments before zoomed by us on her motorbike hellbent on denying us our hot drinks by closing the shop early. We got within ten feet of the bewitched creature before it decided to gambol away towards the rest of his compatriots. 

Incidentally, we had all engaged in a detailed discussion of whether sheep hop earlier in the day. It was decided, based upon Jeremy’s knowledge of sheep that they don’t hop but gambol.(I’m not entirely sure how extensive Jeremy’s knowledge of sheep is, but I was prepared to take his word on the subject as a Yorkshireman.)

We finally reached the tea shop where we would turn off from the path and head south to the town of Hexham. We bade Hadrian and his wall farewell as we began the four mile trek back toward civilisation. The country road we traversed was much the same as the one we had used to find the wall path from Corbridge. As we discussed the merits of British sunscreen we turned to notice that a vehicle was coming up behind us. Our group quickly split and dashed into the weeds on either side of the lane. We just had time to glimpse the fair Maiden in the White Ford as she smiled and waved at us all. A cheerier maid you would not wish to meet. 

The way was getting more difficult as our legs began to tire and our water reserves became depleted. Hexham seemed remarkably out of reach and I began to wonder if perhaps we should have asked the Maiden in the White Ford for a lift into town. Erin began to lag behind as she reached once more for her map. 

"Guys, if we take this path to the left, we'll save ourselves a fair bit of walking," she said. We turned and looked over and found a public footpath. Once more our navigator saved the day. We entered into the heavily wooded path and through a gate across one last field. After climbing off of a rather steep stone wall we eventually found ourselves at a busy roundabout. This would be the most perilous part of our journey as we had to dodge cars and lorries which whizzed by at dizzying speeds. Luckily a kind Mercedes let us pass and we were on the main road into Hexham.

Hexham was not as fair a town as Corbridge had been that morning. Corbridge. Corbridge felt as distant in time and space as the town I had grown up in. Had it even been a real place or had we all dreamed it? I thought of Crobridge Bridge as we crossed the River Tyne at Hexham. The river was still that beautiful sapphire blue though a layer of white spume had grown up where the water churned around several submerged rocks. 

 We arrived at the tiny station with fifteen minutes to spare before the train would arrive to carry us away back to Newcastle and then onward to Durham. After Jeremy had done battle with the ticket machine and lost to the tune of one bank card, we wandered over to our platform and collapsed on the bench. 

We had arrived at the end of our adventure. We had succeeded in finding Hadrian's Wall Path and solving the mystery of the teas. We had met gypsies, forded a rushing stream, visited the forest moon of Endor, defeated enchanted sheep, avoided the Tea Witch, and had encountered the Maiden in the White Ford. We had seen the wonders of Corbridge and been to a Roman town, we had found our way through pastures and forests. We had had a truly wonderful adventure. It was everything and more of what I had hoped it would be. The best part of it was sharing the day with my companions. As we came to the parting of the ways we all promised to band together once more to tackle another quest soon. Believe me it can’t come soon enough.  

The Road Goes Ever On...to Hadrian's Wall (Part the Second)

When we left our band of merrily travelers they had just left a gypsy camp and crossed a torrential stream. Would they have the strength and the stamina to continue onward to glory? Would they capture Hadrian's Wall?

We left the stream rushing behind us and continued the walk up the country lane. The sun was beating down on us and the uphill walk was taxing. Still, the pleasant breeze found us now and again and rejuvenated our spirits. We eventually came upon a castle complete with castellated tower and flag. As we passed by it, we entered into a pasture full of majestic English sheep. Ewes and their adolescent lambs stood in couples around the expansive field. Bleats filled the air and not to be left out of the conversation, Alex attempted communication with a few nearest the path. Judging from the speed with which they departed the scene, I would surmise he had delivered a rather stern rebuke in Sheepish.

The end of the pasture marked the beginning of our true journey. We had reached Hadrian's Wall Path. Despite a misleading signpost suggesting otherwise, this was it. We had managed to find the trail and before us stretched a remarkable adventure. 

This is not the path you are looking for...

I pulled out my guidebook which provided us with detailed maps of the trail and pointed out pubs and views of remarkable beauty. We gathered around it to decide how far we were willing to go. How far we were willing to challenge ourselves and the trail. 

As we looked, Alex asked, “What does ‘teas’ mean?”

We crowded in closer and found a small pink box with the word teas close to the end of that section of trail. A search of the key in the front of the book provided no answer and a mystery was born that none of us could leave uninvestigated. We would walk to this mysterious place and try to uncover the meaning behind this perplexing puzzle. If it was the last thing we did we would triumph in this. 

We began to walk the trail which was tucked up against the far stone wall of the pasture. This wall was not the fabled Hadrian's Wall though. Along our route we would catch no glimpse of it. It was buried beneath the fields lost to time. On occasion we would see mounds which we knew held the remnants of the stone fortification just beneath the soil. Eventually we saw more fortifications in the form of steep gorges dug into the earth to slow down any Highland invaders. The Wall would not reveal its secrets to us this time. 

We continued our trek across one pasture after another. Each pasture was marked with a stone wall enclosure which we had to climb. Wooden ladders were placed on each and we all climbed over them, one after the other. Each field was like a new chapter in our journey which provided new views and more sheep. One field was filled with wild flowers and had ruins of a stone cottage in the distance. One field had a muddy ditch we needed to bypass. One field had a sheep with an interesting haircut. They were each as different as a snowflake.

When we reached the Errington Arms pub it was nearing three o’clock and we hadn’t yet stopped to eat. Jeremy suggested we rectify this sooner rather than later and we all agreed to continue on the trail until we found a shady spot to settle into. It would be another few fields before we finally reached Stanley Plantation which my guidebook described as “a sombre mass of mature conifers.” We would come to know it differently. To us Stanley Plantation will always be the forest moon of Endor.

The Road Goes Ever On....to Hadrian's Wall (Part the First)

If you’ve ever gone for a walk of a proper length and you are of the persuasion geek, it is likely that you have allowed your imagination to craft a truly remarkable story of your trek. It could have been the most uneventful outing and yet, in your mind it was a story filled with dangers, encounters with magical creatures, and punctuated with a triumphant denouement. This past Thursday I took a fifteen mile hike around Hadrian’s Wall with three companions and the story and characters we came up with during our journey were just as exhilarating as the gorgeous views we took in. What follows is a brief chronicle of our adventure wherein four motely museum students journey into the wilds of the northeast in search of adventure.

In a college in Durham there lived a student. Now, unlike many of her fellow students, she had a taste for adventure and for knowing what was beyond the mound that stood at the centre of small, close-knit community. Now choosing to go on an epic adventure is not often within reach of many students who often find themselves too concerned with finishing their next paper or studying for an exam to look and dream at the world outside their tiny study bedrooms. I guess I just happen to be one of the lucky ones.

A few weeks before I had put out a call to several of my closest companions asking if any would be willing to join me on an adventure to find Hadrian’s Wall. In the end, three answered the call, Alex, Erin, and Jeremy were prepared to take on the challenge of finding this mysterious wall, which if I’m at all honest is included in many maps of the north of England and has been the subject of books and documentaries. There was a difference though. I had not yet found it, so it was still waiting to be discovered (sort of).

It was Thursday last when we decided to embark upon our journey. That morning I readied my pack: two bottles of water, a map, a guidebook, eggs of the devilish variety, and a ploughman’s sandwich. I tossed in some sunscreen as well (+2 against sun damage) and put on my new trainers. I was due to meet my companions at the station. From there we would take the train to Newcastle and then to Corbridge. We would visit the ruins of a Roman town and then northwards to the wall. I had initially believed it to be a shortish walk of a mere five miles. The truth would be very different indeed.

At the station I met Erin and Alex. We chatted briefly before a train arrived at our platform. We looked around but there was no sign of our fourth party member, Jeremy.

“Is this our train?” I asked.

“Yeah,” replied Erin.

We looked at each other. Already our journey was beginning with a difficult decision. Do we press on or wait in the hopes that our compatriot would arrive? We were on a tight schedule for the second train out of Newcastle and decided we could not wait. Alex sent out a message to our lost friend and we boarded the train and took our seats.

The trip to Newcastle was a mere fifteen minutes. When we arrived we had less than ten minutes to find the train to Corbridge. Thankfully we did not have far to walk. As we took our seats on the next train, Alex received word that Jeremy had just missed the train and would get on the next one. He would be roughly an hour and a half behind us but we planned to rendezvous at the Roman town.

The countryside rolled by our window, country I had never seen before. The River Tyne was never far away and the three of us chatted pleasantly about travel, careers, and going back home after university. Sooner than I expected we had reached the tiny station at Corbridge. We disembarked and the first leg of our journey was complete.

We journeyed toward the town and crossed the beautiful and somewhat redundantly named Corbridge Bridge. The warm, summer air filled our lungs and the sun glinted on the River Tyne as though it were filled with Her Majesty’s most precious sapphires. We were already enjoying ourselves. We felt rid of the obligations of coursework and the small considerations of daily life. We were free.

The town of Corbridge is delightfully small but filled with quaint cafes, bakeries, and a fairly impressive inn. Had we not a quest to complete, I think we all would have taken the afternoon to explore a few of the tea shops and perhaps had a pub lunch at the Angel of Corbridge. As it was we had plans and we began by finding a wooded path that ran beside the river.

The path was green and inviting with the river on the left and a field of sheep on our right. When we reached the end, we found ourselves in the driveway of a lovely stone house. It was the first time that Erin pulled her map out of her pack. She would prove to be a most excellent navigator throughout the day. We discovered that we had circled right around the Roman town and if we continued to follow the driveway it would bring us to the main road and we could enter the site from there. The sun was hot and I was already sweating from the walk, but it didn’t matter. My ears were filled with bird songs and I was delighted to be sharing my day with my friends.

We finally arrived at the road that would lead us to the Roman town. A bright white English Heritage flag fluttered in the refreshing breeze and from the car park we spotted the archaeological remains of the site. We entered the small museum and paid our £5. Before entering the museum, we sampled some of the wines on offer in the shop. I do recommend the Elderflower.

As we wandered through the exhibits it became clear that our year as museum students had changed us. I was concerned less with looking at objects and reading labels and more with the readings on the RH monitors, the case lighting, and the thematic groupings within the exhibition. As we wandered from case to case our conversation turned to matters of conservation and metal corrosion. 

We reached the end of the exhibition and found ourselves reunited with our lost companion. Jeremy had managed to take a more direct route through town to the site and our crew was now complete. We wandered outside among the ruins for ten or so minutes. It was odd that four archaeologists should be looking off to the north towards our quest rather than at our feet where some of the richest examples of Roman life in the wild north could be found. We realised it was time to press onward to our goal.

We set off following the main road, hoping to find a path along the A68 which would take us directly to the Hadrian's Wall Path. We had been reassured by the manager of the museum that this would be possible but as circumstances would have it, we had been badly misled. We meandered through a housing development before coming to a middle school when Erin again pulled out her trusty map. To the left we discovered a foot path and we followed that as far as we could go until we reached a country road that went under the A68.

As we rounded a bend we saw a beautiful horse hitched up near the road lazily munching on some loose hay. Beyond him was a wooden gypsy caravan painted brightly red where a man and woman were sitting near a smoldering fire. A kettle hung over the ashes and as we past the smoky bouquet or campfire filled my nostrils. Instantly memories of every camping trip I had ever been on flooded my mind. As we walked out of earshot I remarked to my companions, “Truly that is one of the best smells on Earth” They agreed.

Not long after leaving the gypsy camp, we reached a stream which rushed past the road. A Land Rover was in the midst of crossing it as we approached and judging from the large splash, it was a deeper stream than we would have initially believed. Could our crew make it across this flowing death trap?

Roll for initiative.

Luckily there was a footbridge to the left of the road and if I am completely honest, the water wasn't quite so deep or quite so rushing. But it felt like we were finally having an adventure. We had encountered gypsies brewing a magic potion and had crossed a torrent of water. What else would lie ahead on our quest?

From London to Edinburgh in 6 Days (Part the Third)

Erika and I had decided to give ourselves a break and took a ten o’clock train from Durham to Edinburgh. I had only spent a few hours in that city and that had been back in December when the Christmas Market was on. I remember it being dark, cold, and rainy. It wasn’t that I had not enjoyed myself, but I remembered being underwhelmed. It frustrated me because everyone I had spoken to who had been to Edinburgh absolutely loved it. They would talk about how it was their favourite city in the UK. I wondered if they had been to London at all.

The train got us in at a little after twelve. We dropped off Erika’s extra bag in the station and began our walk over to the Royal Mile in the direction of Edinburgh Castle. The sky was slightly overcast but it was a lot nicer than Durham had been. While it was a bit chilly, the walk and carrying our backpacks with everything we would need for the next two days warmed us.

We had pre-purchased tickets to the Scotch Whisky Experience the day before. It’s not that I’m an avid drinker of the stuff, though Erika is, it was the “experience” half of it that I was most excited about. When we had mentioned to people in the pub the night before what our first stop in Edinburgh was to be, we were met with excited enthusiasm. We were regaled with tails of the barrel ride and the world’s largest collection of whisky. By the time we reached our destination, we had definitely worked up a thirst.

The Scotch Whisky Experience is next to Edinburgh Castle. We went in, picked up our tickets and managed to get on an earlier tour. The tickets were a bit pricey but both of us were really excited about this barrel ride. We met our guide (who coincidentally had a brother who had gone to Durham Uni) and then Erika and I were placed in a barrel car running along a track and our whisky adventure began.

Alright, so if you’ve ever been to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania and gone of the Hershey’s Chocolate World ride, it was basically that just all about whisky. Also you probably now have the Hershey’s Chocolate World song stuck in your head. You’re welcome. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, the ride basically takes you through the process of making scotch whisky. This includes smells and sounds in addition to visualisations of the whole process. The journey is hosted by the ghost of Douglas McIntyre a distillery owner and a mild Scottish caricature.

After the ride, we were given a scent card with four Scottish whisky producing regions in the corners. We went into the tasting room and our tour guide joined us. As he spoke to us about the four regions, a projection screen showed the hard working whisky makers doing all the things that whisky makers do. We were invited to rub the corners of our cards and smell the bouquet which distinguishes the single malts from each region. I was drawn to the sweet vanilla scent from the Highlands while Erika preferred the very smoky scent of Islay. The last portion of the presentation was about blends which culminated in a most delightful musical analogy wherein a classical symphony was played over footage of a master blender doing his thing. Musical notes on the walls lit up and Erika and I tried to hold back the laughter than was threatening to burst forth over this terribly cheesy turn of events.

After the music died down and the film ended, our guide returned.

“I hope you all enjoyed that musical analogy as much as I did,” he said very cheekily. Erika and I both laughed relieved that even the staff knew how bad it was.

We were told to place our tasting glasses on one of the five circles on the table in front of us to choose which type of whisky we wanted to taste. We could choose a single malt from one of the four regions discussed or a blend. I chose the Highlands and was poured some of the light gold liquid. Erika went with the Islay and she received a darker gold coloured pouring. We were told not to drink it all yet as we all rose and followed our guide into the next room.

We entered into a whisky lover’s paradise. The largest collection of Scotch Whiskey glowed from lit shelves and was reflected all around us by mirrors making the already large collection seem larger. We gathered around a table and our guide took as through the tasting process. How to hold our glasses to the light, take a sniff, and finally take a drink. Now, I am not one who likes to drink spirits. I remember a hard night many years ago in Atlantic City with some Ukrainian ballet dancers and a bottle of cognac that didn’t end well for my stomach. To me, all liquors just taste like fire. I prepared myself for the burn as I took my first sip. I wasn’t disappointed, that burny, alcohol flavour singed my tongue. What surprised me though was that I was actually able to taste some of the other flavours our guide had mentioned. I wandered about the collection and took very small sips. The more I drank it, the worse the burning became and eventually I began to feel a burning in my stomach, too. I managed to finish it and to be honest it was one of the more pleasant experiences with fire water I have had to date. Having learned about whisky, I’d be more likely to accept a sip if offered from a friend’s glass, but I’ll most likely stick to wine and cider.

Photograph by Erika Beth

We were given cardboard boxes to put our glasses in (yes, you keep your glass!) and we were taken into the bar area with some good views of the city. The sky had cleared even more and Erika and I were hoping it would last while we headed over to the Castle.

As in any good museum or experience we had to exit through the gift shop. The arrangement and layout reminded me so strongly of the Hershey’s Chocolate World gift shop that I am convinced they styled their attraction on that one. It was odd to have those childhood memories flood back to my brain as we took a gander at whisky themed pencil cases. Having found no suitable post cards to send to her friends, Erika and I left and heading next door to the Castle.

I was feeling really good. No I wasn’t drunk, but I was happy. Erika and I had just had a really great time learning about whisky and though it was very cold, we weren’t drenched. It was a bit unfortunate that we were at the Castle while they were building the stands for the Tattoo as the magnificent views of the city were obscured behind scaffolding and heavy vehicles.

We paid for our entry into Edinburgh Castle (no student discount!) and found a tour that was just leaving. I do recommend doing the tour. It isn’t thorough but they give you really good information and point out all of the buildings you should go into when it’s over. It’s the perfect way to get your bearings and the background on the events which took place there. Our guide was really lovely gentleman who told me how much he loved Durham Cathedral when I mentioned I was a student there. He began talking about his love for cities and I think I made his day when I introduced Erika as a New Yorker. He went on and on about how New York is his favourite city and how he goes there every year.

After our tour we decided to hit up the café for some much needed food and a hot beverage. The cool May air and the brisk breezes had left our extremities a bit numb. If you go to the Castle, you must have tea there. It was a really lovely experience. As we sipped our tea and warmed our hands, Erika and I began to talk about how much we were enjoying Edinburgh. Everyone we had met had been so nice and seemed genuinely interested in hearing about ourselves and what we thought of the UK. Even the guy at the luggage place had been warm and friendly. I couldn’t believe how happy I was feeling in Scotland. It just seemed a more open, friendly sort of place. I also couldn’t help but notice how much more international it felt. Our waiter was from Bulgaria, there were signs saying welcome is many different languages, people would ask us about the US and not with the sometimes mocking disdain and sometimes genuine disdain I had encountered in the past, it was with actual interest. It occurred to me then and there, Edinburgh is my favourite place we had been in the past five days. Sure London was amazing as always and Durham was home, but Edinburgh…Edinburgh was heaven.

Photograph by Erika Beth

We finished our tea and took our time wandering through the Castle. We saw the war memorial and looked through some of the remembrance books with the names of those who had died. We saw the Scottish Crown Jewels (they are older than the English ones as they had been hidden from Cromwell’s forces). We went through the Great Hall, St. Margaret’s Chapel (the oldest building at the Castle), and looked at the remnants of David’s Tower where the black dinner had taken place. We also drank in the remarkable views of the city from the battlements. We looked across to Arthur’s Seat, the highest point in Edinburgh. Erika and I had decided to climb it on our second day.

Arthur's Seat is the little bump on top of that rather large ridge in the distance.

"Dude, we’re climbing that tomorrow,” I said pointing out at the tall ridge in the distance.

“Yep,” said Erika.

We stayed at the Castle until it closed at six. Then we made our way along the Royal Mile. Erika had found us lodgings on AirBNB and we had a bit of a walk ahead of us. Lucky for us, the sun wasn’t due to set until 9:41pm. We still had plenty of daylight to get to our room, drop our stuff, and head out again to get some supper.

The neighbourhood where we were staying was quiet and tucked away from the busy Mile. It was close to Holyrood Palace and Arthur’s Seat so our next day’s expedition would be easily accessible. We relaxed for about an hour before Erika managed to convince me to get out of the nice, warm bed and go get some dinner. We ate at The Regent the local gay pub (which is also the coolest place in the world because they had dinosaurs in the windows.) Erika ordered the haggis and I opted for some mac and cheese. I had gotten chilled being atop Castle Rock and needed the comfort food feeling of hot macaroni and cheese. After a cider, we headed back to base, the sun still bright albeit lower in the sky. That night, I slept well.

30 May 2014 – Day Six – Edinburgh

We only had half a day left in the magnificent city of Edinburgh. I was due to catch a train at 1:00 from Waverly and Erika was continuing her European adventures in Norway. I tried not to think about saying goodbye. Instead I steadied myself and mentally prepared for the climb up Arthur’s Seat.

Now, I love hiking but I know that the last time I went back in the States I had been one of the slowest in the group. The uphill climbs had damn near killed me. Though all of the reviews of Arthur’s Seat had said it was an easy climb and only took about 45 minutes, I could not believe them. I had seen it after all and it looked like a daunting task. Nevertheless that was what we going to do that day. We packed up our backpacks and signed the guest book in the foyer of our lodgings before closing the door behind us.

It was a downhill walk to Holyrood Palace and across the street. I picked up a few maps of the trails from the kiosk in a nearby parking lot and then, we were off.

I cannot describe how beautiful a climb it is. Yellow gorse lines the hillsides and the green grass is punctuated by rocks and boulders. Scottish thistle springs from the ground and the morning sun casts soft shadows along the route. Truly it is remarkable. It is everything I love about hiking.

Photograph by Erika Beth

What’s more, I found the ascent to be a breeze. (I swear it must be the CrossFit.) Erika and I had done nothing but walk and climb for the entire six day trip and I was moving along the trail fairly easily, not getting too much out of breath. My muscles did not ache at all (save for my abs from Tuesday’s WOD). It was a truly pleasant experience and we were at the top in under an hour.

This is my favourite picture I took from the climb. Nope, I haven't retouched the colours.
That's just Scotland.

We stayed there for some time, taking pictures and mentally fixing the views into our brains. We were about to head down when Erika, ever the extravert struck up a conversation with a guy who had the same backpack as her. Turns out he was an American also named Andrew who was a student and a journalist. He was in Edinburgh for a month but a native of Florida. We all chatted together as we descended the mountain. It was a lovely conversation between world travellers, the kind I imagine happens frequently when you’re open to the world. When we reached Holyrood we shook hands and wished each other well.

We had two and a half hours to do the Palace before we needed to start our walk to the station. We purchased our tickets (which are good for a year if you get them stamped) and took up the free audio tour guides. It’s worth picking them up as it takes you through the rooms and provides you with some good information. Like most audio tours, the tracks can be a little long winded and at times I found myself cutting it short in favour of using my own eyes and reading my guidebook later.

My favourite rooms were Mary Queen of Scots chambers where her Italian secretary had been murdered by her jealous husband. They aren’t to be missed. The best parts of the Palace though were the Abbey ruins and the gardens. They are a must if you are there during the summer months and good weather. (Just a quick FYI: They have several ticket options and the way they are worded makes it sound like you can only do the gardens if you get the Royal Visit option which is £20. This is NOT true. You also get to tour the gardens if you buy the standard Palace of Holyrood ticket which is only £11 .)

After we finished our walk through the gardens, we grabbed a quick tea at the café. It was alright, but we had definitely enjoyed the tea at the Castle a little more. It was nearing the time when I’d have to say goodbye to my friend. I was feeling so sad about that. We had had the best of times over the past five and a half days and I wasn’t quite ready to go back to dismal Durham and back to the routine of grad school. I felt so energised and excited about the possibilities of traveling and seeing the world. I wished Erika could fit me into her suitcase and take me to Norway with her. We began the walk back to Waverly Station.

Erika picked up her suitcase and we wandered over to the departures board. My train was leaving in thirty minutes from platform nine. She took out her postcards which she had managed to find at one of the many Scottish souvenir stalls along the Royal Mile. We each wrote a message to a mutual friend back in the US before Erika sent them off to places far afield from that little red post box.

We began to walk toward platform 9 when Erika stopped and looked up at where the buses to the airport depart from.

“Is this where we part?” I asked.

“I think so,” she replied.

We spoke about the amazing time we had and the fact that we had travelled so well together. We promised to do more in the future. We hugged and then set off in different directions. I held back some tears as I marched through the station. Erika had reminded me how much I love travelling and how much I had grown to love the UK. The thought of leaving in September began to gnaw at me. Showing her around had been so much fun. I realised that this was because I was showing her my home and it had felt so much homier having her around.

I boarded my train. The bright sunlight filtered through the tinted glass. As the train began to pull away, I sighed heavily.

I have to plan more trips, I thought. I don’t want to lose this feeling I have right now. Then I smiled. I realised I had been having a string of what Erika would call “right here-right now moments.” Those were moments when there is no place or no time you’d rather be than where you are right now.