Schilthorn and Brienz

I finally made it up to Piz Gloria on Saturday morning around 9am (to take advantage of a cheaper "early bird" fare). I could see it on the cable car up and as the car reached the summit... Well this is what I saw:


I think that's Mont Blanc in the distance. Just a bit difficult to make out though the... Cloud!!!!

I stayed for longer than I intended. It seemed that cloud was forming below and rising up. Occasionally it would break. It did lift in the end, enabling this Piz Gloria panorama:


Astounding. The tallest mountain is Junfraujoch. Click to enlarge.

Back down I was dismayed to find that the next ferry up the Brienersee was only 15 minutes away, and I had no bike. I was going to cycle back from Brienz. I thought maybe I would ride over the back over the mountains and then down to Interlaken from Grindelwald. The hostel was in Bönigen, the first stop of the ferry, so I hot footed back there and was making good progress but was dismayed again to see reception was closed till 2 pm, and then as I walked out dejected (toot toot) the boat sailed slowly past. Miserable, I decided to walk to Bönigen proper to find where the boat dock was. To my suprise it was next to a lovely campsite and swimming area, people did swim in the lake after all. Drat. I would have if I'd had the time, and if the bit of shore next to the hostel wasn't monopolised by school kids.

Anyway, I decided to take the next boat. I went back to the hostel and the hire bikes were really nice light mountain bikes. I was surpised. Also, to delight me, the next train was an old style paddle boat. It's great when those come into harbour and everyone comes out and waves. Here's a picture of the exposed pistons for the paddles:


I decided to ride back along the lake shore - cycle route 8. Cycle route it says... Well, out of Brienz I came to a sign in German. It said s-something for 2km. I guess it meant steep, and thank goodness I had 24 gears because it was crazy. I reckon I must have climbed halfway up the mountain. The top seemed very close at least. At the top it was clear where I was: Gleissbach. See photo below of the waterfall there:


After that was down hill to Istewald, then ANOTHER 2km uphill stretch, then a wicked fast downhill to Bönigen and flat lakeside to Interlaken.

Something great here is the apparent low risk of bike theft. You just lock the rear wheel to the frame and that's it. My bike just had a spoke lock. Supremely easy to use. I used it in Interlaken to buy the Cuckoo clock and then rode to the end of town and then south, ending up in historic Matten. One old chalet there had 1666 engraved on it. Cripes! Matten, it turned out, was where all the backpackers and adventure sports activites where. A real youth vibe on the street. I was oblivious to this from my lakeside retreat in sleepy Bönigen!

I watched Ghana scrape past the USA that evening. Bless the clueless Americans watching it with me. Only at the end did they figure out they had lost. They cheered at the action replays and the match summary. "why aren't they showing the score". I decided not to condescend and point out that E.-U is French abbreviation for US. Well done Ghana anyway.

I will only say this about my train ride to Martigny. If you see a train with unusually large windows, that suggests you should take it and see where it goes. Jaw dropping landscape from Thun to Brig. I'm now on an Intercity from Brig to Martigny in the middle of a huge u-shaped valley.


In Brig station the signs were in German and... Italiano! I'm heading south! The forecast in Chamonix is not good, so I'll make sure I do Mont Blanc early if I can.

Faulhorn fail and other adventures!

I woke up early to beat the crowds and well there were still some crowds. In fact the train was mostly full. I think having been here a few days that the (middle-class/wealthy looking) Indians, Koreans, Chinese and Japanese must be about 50% of the crowd here, good job by the tourist authorities.

Anyway, I got the train the Grindewald. I must have mis-read, but I thought that village was meant to be car-free. You could have fooled me, not just delivery vans, but plenty if regular cars. Anyway Viewranger (again!) pointed me the right way for the cable car station to First where I planned to walk, or is the right term "hike" up to Faulhorn, an Alpine peak with a walking trail to the top. The view from First is amazing.


It seemed to start off badly. It was warmer that I expected. There was no way I could wear my jacket again but my tee shirt had no collar. I was convinced (wrongly) that despite my suncream, I'd get burned (instead the suncream has worked really well). Anyway, off I went and a few dozen other walkers if all ages. I looked in the distance and could see the Faulhorn. Unlike the pictures on Google Earth, it was covered in snow.

It was fairly ardous but I made it to Bachaplsee which is a very pretty glacial lake. On the way there I noticed there was a lot of unmelted snow about and after the lake it blocked the path. Bless my walking shoes, but they are more designer than designed for hiking and they stuggled. When I saw this then, I knew I had to give up.


Bascically the rest of the path was covered in snow.I could see walkers with proper boots and walking poles getting through but I had little more than glorifed trainers. Disapponting. Nevermind, I turned tail and set off down to Grindewald. This path took me down a glacial valley, which, when I looked at it seemed obviously to be a ski slope. At the end of it was another spectacular vista of the mountains.

I walked down to Waldspitz, where I had a much needed mineral water and chocolate cake. Then I took the harder shorter route down to Bort. It was all steps down through a steep sort of field of bushes and flowers. There were lots of little signs in German explaining what the plants were. I don't speak German, but at the bottom it turned into a meadow. Speechless.


At Bort I decided to take a Trottibike that's a large scooter with brakes down to Grindewald. I think it's primarily meant for children, but adults are allowed too. I think for a light child it must be fun. The brakes would be strong and the speed on the steep downhill manageable. With a heavy man aboard it was terrifying. I had to use all my bike skills to keep upright and the a speed would go up so quickly it was positively dangerous. Oh and did I saw they had cars in Grindewald. Cripes.


At the bottom I had to return the trotti to Grindewald station. So I looked for a sign, found none and went to the train station. They were shrugged shoulders unhelpful so I figured it had to be the cable car station. The upshot of this was that I missed the train back to Lauterbrunnen for my 2nd attempt at the Schilthorn.

I wasn't sure what to do so I looked at my map. I remebered seeing another cable car that morning. Where did it go? Well it went to Mannlichen (tall mountain great view) and from there the Wengen (so pretty, great views) which is one stop from Lauterbrunnen. Frantic checking of timetables said that it would be tight, but I might make it. I didn't. The problem was I was going to a play that evening. And the timing from Wengen was just too late. I had a look at the Schilthorn entrance and it seemed the cable car was shut anyway.

So I went straight to the play. This years premier showing of Tell. That's William Tell. It's the national legend of the creation of Switzerland and it's liberation from Austrian rule. The story is a bit complex to tell, but basically the Austians were treating the Swiss badly and made Tell try to shoot an apple off the head if his son. Tell was so skilfull he suceeded but later assasinaywd the Austrian prince who made him do it, sparking a revolution and Swiss independence. The booklet accompanying said thatt he story was inspriration for many other struggles for freedom like the Americans and the Palestinians. I choked a little when I saw the comparison to the Americans, little squabble over money, hardly a tyranny, but there you go.


There were some intervals acts of Swiss flag waving. I'll upload a YouTube video. It was impressive, although the Victorians have something to answer for, giving the world lots of slightly silly 'tradtional' costumes.

I was going to go to Lucerne the next day but I could not be bothered. I had a day off and walked into Town to look around. There wasn't much to see. A big alpine meadow and a tourist strip. I did see a cuckoo shop though. I bought one yesterday and it is being shipped to England.

Something I didn't see 7 years ago was the bikes. There were mire cyclists than car drivers in town. I should have hired one for the day but I decided not yet. I sat by the lake for an hour and then felt bored. At that point I should have grabbed a train to Lucerne for a late afternoon sightsee, bit instead I took a train to Thun for a boat trip back. That was foolishly unplanned and although I got to ride on a paddle steamer (toot toot!). I had to get off after only 2 stops as the boat terminated well before Interlaken. So fun but a bit of a wasted day. I got rest though.

Next day was cycle hire day. A sense of missing out on the fun was bulding in me. I now (I'm on the train to Martigny) realise that all the trains taking me up the mountains have bike racks. I should have hired a bike taken a train up and blasted down.

But I opened the window and the sky was clear. Not a cloud. That meant only one thing. Shilthorn.

7 years later...

When I arrived in Zurich, I was tired. The journey hadn't started so well. I got onto the train with a business man who promptly sat in my reserved seat. I meekly enquired and he showed me his ticket. He did indeed have my seat!

I walked back to the attendent, who was preparing a tray of orange juice (first class luxury, eh?) and she sent me off to find the guard. His office was in the buffet car, but the buffet guy told me he wasn't on the train. Go back to my carriage and he'll find me.

Ok. I went back and sat on a fold-out seat by the door. About 10 mins later, now whizzing out of the Paris suburbs, he arrived and checked my ticket. It was all in order of course. He went to check the other guy's ticket and came back a few mins later. A mis-print on his ticket, apparently. Give him a minute to move and take your seat. I managed to avoid eye contact as I moved in, and quietly ate the croissant I had bought from a boulangerie just outside Gare de L'est. Crumbs, it was the best tasting croissant I have ever had. Crumbly yet sticky, moist and dry, just the right sweet and butteryness - nothing like it in the UK, not even the over priced stuff in Paul.

Anyway, the train raced to Strasbourg, along the new Est Europeen TGV line, before ambling across the slower Swiss tracks to Zurich. At the border at Basel, border police entered the carriage. They asked to see my passport and asked the usual questions. I then looked up to see who else was checked and they walked out the other end. It was just me.

So, the train reached the end of the line at Zurich, and I walked down the Bahnhoffstrasse towards Lake Geneva. My plan was walk to the lake, visit the Apple Store for some wifi, get lunch and walk back for a walking tour at 3pm. I made it, just about.

I was expecting some amazing shopping plaza from this "world famous" street, but Bahnhoffstrasse is just Oxford Street tacked onto Regent Street with a bit of Bond Street. There were plenty of banks as well and whenever I saw a black person, I tried not to imagine that they were an African dictator's relative spending their country's aid money. I'm sure those types are there somewhere though. My tour guide later was saying that Switzerland had a tough time during the two World Wars. I'm sure it did, still found time to look after the Nazi gold though. Anyway...!

The walking tour was great. All that banking/trading wealth over the centuries has made a beautiful city. I didn't take any phone pics for this blog, but there are over 1,000 water fountains; one of the churches has the widest diameter clock in Europe and one of the churches has beautiful modern stain glass windows. Oh and Tina Turner shops as the local Tom Ford outlet in the old Town. She lives nearby.

I missed my train to Interlaken. The specific one I wanted was something called ICN, which is the Swiss tilting train. But it didn't matter, there was another normal intercity an hour later. Normal in this case meaning double decker. Here's a view from the top:


I walked to Hostel. It was a 30 mins walk along the shore of Lake Breinz. I felt fat for most of it. Every few minutes i was passed by joggers and cyclists, all super fit. I suppose if I had such stunning scenery outside my front door I might use it too.

I hadn't plotted the position of the hostel in Viewranger and I hadn't taken the reservation email, so I thought I would have to remember what it looked like from the last time I visited in 2003. I needn't have worried, it became apparent from the screaming noises of French school children on a school trip. They didn't shut up till well after 10pm. Good thing I had my earplugs from the ferry trip. I watched the football and went to sleep.

The earplugs protected me from snoring (two loud snorers in the room), but I still woke up tired and lethargic. Breakfast was not what I remebered from 2003. Nowhere was the delicious Swiss museli I had enjoyed. Instead all different sugary cereals. Still it was hearty enough with unlimited bread, elderflower jam, honey, orange juice, tea, coffee, or chocolate.

The weather was good so I decided to head straight for the biggest (cloud stopped play) disappointment of my 2003 trip. The Top of Europe - Jungfraujoch.

I felt fat again walking out. It felt too hot for my jacket, but the jacket seemed too big for my bum bag. I had the iPhone charging from a battery which kept disconnecting (took me a while to figure this all out to my satisfaction), and at the back of my mind I knew I should have left earlier to avoid crowds, and there was indeed a massive crowd at the station (should have bought my ticket at the hostel!) so I was half an hour later still.

An interesting crowed at the station compared to what I remember in 2003. At least a quarter or close to half were Asian. There appeared to be a fair few Chinese tour groups. Up on the mountain, I saw a plaque that said this region was added to an approved list of destinations for the Chinese in 2004, whatever that means. They must be advertising in India too.

So on the way up I often had my eyes shut only to open them to take pictures. I'll see Grindewald tommorow, properly, but when we changed trains up the valley at Kleine Scheidigg, we saw this view back down to to village.


Pretty breathtaking, even when seen through the iPhone. The views just got better over the day.

At "the top of Europe", I wasn't interested in the extreme sports options or the skiing, I just wanted to see the grotto carved into the glacier (not as cold as expected) and the view from the top.

Again, spectacular.



To end the 2003 jinx required a trip to Shilthorn. This was the mountain viewing platform from one of the Bond movies. My 2003 memory is arrriving at the cable car to see a live picture of the whole thing covered in fog. This time... It was covered in fog. Drat. At least the trip there yeilded this view:



Never mind, I went back down to Interlaken and went up Harder Kulm on the other side instead. This being on the other side of the lake was meant to give a view of the whole mountain range. It did, but the key middle bit with the tallest snow covered peaks, were shrouded in foggy cloud. Oh well, I'll get another chance. My plan now is tommorow go hiking up First and the Faulhorn, on Friday go to Lausanne or maybe try a picnic in Kanderstag, on Saturday take a bike ride around Lake Brienz and take another trip, time permitting, up the Rothorn on the otherside.

Sunday is another long travel day. Destination, Chamonix Mont Blanc - the real destination for this holiday. Oh, here was the view as I wrote this near my hostel. Not bad eh? Makes me think that the next time I need a relaxing break I should look for somewhere in our own Lake district.

Ah...argh...Paris!

When I got to Paris, it had started to drizzle. That was a bit of a surprise, becuase the weather forecast showed White clouds and sunshine. Well that was mostly right. It was about half and half. Half sun half grey. No further rain though.

Montparnasse station was all a bussle, and there were unpleasant reminders of the times with armed soldiers patrolling. Hmm. I don't recall soldiers at UK stations anytime recently. I went outside and enacted Plan A. Find a Velib bike hire place and get cycling to my first museum, the Quai Branleé, I think they call it the Musueum of original art, it's an ethnic cutural museum.

Anyway, goodness I was lost straight away. I thought I was somewhat familiar with Paris. I am not. I only know the Metro. I had the Mayor of Paris' cycle Map. What a useless tool. It shows the main cycle routes, but none of the roads in between. And the sign posts and road markings; I didn't expect to say this, buy they have a lot to learn from London. You just don't appreciate the volume of cycle signs and directions in London till you miss it.



Lost, I decided to head for the river, and, oh don't forget to ride on the right and overtake on the left and think in reverse when taking junctions, but yes at the river, everything was good. A segregated lane right to the museum.

I've decided now that on this trip, I can't handle heavy museums. I was bored stiff. To be fair I suppose, I had seen most of it before in the British Musem, and I had just been on a long journey, but apart from the rather sad archive of instruments, which seems to me to be a collection of music from dead cultures, I just wanted to get out. So I finished and left to find my hostel. I was going to try to see the renovated Hall of Mirrors in Versailles, but I didn't want to hassle of rushing to catch another train.

I knew exactly where the Hostel was on the map, but again trying to use the cycle map to get there was simply impossible, the street names were small and hard to read, the cycle signs were sparse and there were no road markings to indicate if you were on route 5 or route whatever. The bus lanes had motobikes, mopeds and taxis in them. The cars were fast, but actually, on reflection, no worse than London. I didn't see any articulated lorries in the central areas either.

I ended up following the main road signs to Republique and then used the map on Viewranger (GPS turned off) to find the hostel. Not the nicest hostel I have stayed in, showers and toilets from the 1970s or 60s. Tolerable for 2 nights.

That evening I decided I had to find a safe route to the city centre. It existed so where was it? I followed a fast cyclist to what looked like Notre Dame. It wasn't, it was on Rue Rivoli (like their Oxford/Regent Street). I parked the bike and started walking, looking for the Apple Store. It was further than I imagined. I couldn't believe it but it was underneath the Lourve in a shopping mall. Can you imagine putting shops under Buckingham Palace?

Riding back, I found the route to Republique. Not the most direct, but safe and quiet. In one stretch I was held up by a rubbish truck. On of the drivers behind lost his cool terribly. Fool.





Once back at Republic, I decided to ride up to Gare de L'est, where I would leave on Tuesday for Zurich. Easy peasy! I had a walk around to get a glimpse of the TGVs and went back to get another bike. There were only 2 left and when I went out on the road I noticed the steering was very wobbly. I did a u-turn back and returned it, walked to another velib station and took another bike to get back to the hostel.

Next morning I cycled back to Rivoli. It was so quick and fast I just needed to park and stroll into the Louvre. Right? Wrong. All the velib stands in the city centre were full. I spent about an hour cycling around in a circle round Rivoli and Les Halles, under direction of the Velib machines chasing that last spot. Eventually, I saw this:




Grrr. So I decided to ride up to the Champs Elysees and try there. Despite the preponderance of one way streets I eventually, with the aid of a tourist map found a station about a kilometre or two away from my destination! I decided to check my usage, I had paid €5 for 7days, but I saw prices attached to my journies, so I'm not sure what the €5 was for then. And one of the journies said 10 hours and €35! I think something went wrong at Gare de L'est. Later that day I went to a velib machine to see what I could do. The machine phoned an operator but he couldn't understand me nor me him. Were both spoke English, but the line quality was too poor. So I'll have to call them when I get home.

Not a good start to the day. I decided to ditch the Louvre and see if I could visit the National Assembly. As soon as I started walking a man jumped ahead of me and said "did you drop this ring?", showing me a thick goldie-looking ring. Me: no thanks. I walked to the Asembly and there was no apparent way in. So I decided to walk back to the Louvre for lunch and wifi. On the way there, a woman walking toward me stooped and picked up a silver-looking ring: "did you drop this ring?" Me: no thanks. She said, "go on, take it". Me thinking scam-alert! "No". And I looked around for accomplice pickpocketers and checked my pockets. A moment later, walking over the Seine, a young man approach a couple of ladies with the same scam. They accepted and I watched to see the outcome. Nothing. Now apparently the scam is they ask for a finders fee, eg €10. I dunno what's going on. I just know I don't wear jewellery.

Walking through Tuileries, my mood was improved by an Oboe player just sitting and practicing. No sign of a hat to collect money, just letting his music flow through the bushes, trees and waft over the summer air.

Lunch was ridiculous. I don't know why I ate at the World (except British) Food restaurant under the Louvre. €11 for cous cous, whatever is in it is too much. In fact all the food in Paris was over priced. €3 for a bottle of water? What a joke. I decided that my dinner would be taken at McDonalds, and even that was pricey at over €6 for a meal. I needed the loo and this one under the Louvre took the biscuit. €1 to get in. When you get in, there is a queue for the loos. There are only 3 stalls and 2 urinals. The male attendant goes in before each pooper to clean the seat with nice smelling disinfectant. But there's no toilet brush! So you go in and the seat is immaculate but the previous sitters streaks are still in evidence, and the ventilation isn't up to much so there's an unplesant combination of exotic and excrement.

You come out of the designer space, having pulled toilet tissue off a large roll, no dispenser or roll holder to ruin the clean lines allowed I guess, and the sinks are good as are the Dyson hand blowers, which look rather out of place. You can then peruse and buy designer coloured toilet rolls or admire a Japanese toilet seat with built in Bedet. Surely only the French could get this so wrong.

I decided to cycle to the Bolougne park on the west side of the city. Well I tried to. I followed the cycle route and it quickly turned into a dual carriage. I'm sorry, but I was not getting squished in a foreign city! So I bailed out at a place intriguingly (to me) called Parc Andre Citröen. As in the cars. I wondered what his park would look like?

Well not like any park I'd seen before. I started by walking through a japanese woodland. It was packed with birds and plants, very nice. This opened up onto a pathway with huge concrete and glass cubes containing tropical trees. There was an overhead walkway with bridges to each cube and a door to enter. I tried one, but it was locked due to "technical issues". Behind the cubes were concrete stepped waterfalls, but no water. I noticed that the park, which opened in 1992 is having renovations. At the bottom of the falls was an open park. At one end two 3 or 4 story glass houses, beautifully build with glass wood, concrete and steel. At the other end was a weather balloon.

It turned out that you could ride in the Balloon for €10. Why not? I went up with two school girls for quite a turbulent flight. It was held down by a pulley which let it rise and swing above the adjacent high rise blocks to give a view all the way to Sacre Coeur.

I needed to ride back to walk the Promenade Plantee, my last plan visit. I wasn't going back up the highway, so I consulted Viewranger and crossed the city, diagonally, following road signs. That was very enjoyable, reminding me of cycling down bus lanes in South London. Very fast. The road went to Parc Luxembourg and ended. I had a Mr M Burger meal and took a packed metro to Bastille. What a contrast to the bike ride, so hot and sweaty on the train!

Viewranger again at Bastille to point me the right way to the Promenade, a dis-used elevated freight railway converted into an above the streets park. It was lovely, if dense with flying insects! At the end, a few km later was a velib station and I rode back, pausing to hear an open air concert by school children.

I don't know if June 21 is something special in France, bit all the way back to the hostel was live music played outside and inside bars and restaurants. I went up to Montmartre later to find the "best baguette in Paris" (it was closed), and it was heaving like crazy with live bands in every bar, playing over each other, barbeques in the street and thousands of people. Like a carnival. On a Monday. Totally lost again, I was rescued by Viewranger. Quite a useful tool this!

I went back there early this morning to get a baguette but it was still closed. A boulangerie closed in the morning? Perhaps they've gone on holiday. The streets around were a mess and I knew from the previous morning not to rely on the bikes, and indeed, none were available, so I took the metro to La Chappele and walked to Gare de L'Est. I'm signing off this blog from Lake Zurich.

Wish you were here!

Paris, the long way

I am writing this on the TGV Atlantique, just out of St. Brieuc in Côtes D'Armour, Brittany. A Madame has just passed me with two petite dogs in tow and I'm just finishing a fresh baguette I bought from a boulangerie in charming Morlaix. Oui, c'est la France!

Starting on Saturday at 7am, we got most of the way to Limerick before I remebered my latest ommision. Where is my bumbag with my camera and jacket! It's in the living room. Oh dear, so I missed my train to Cork. Luckily there was another at 9 and my ticket was valid. A little stress there. The gate guard said he thought it was valid, but check at the desk. The desk had a queue of pensioners and I had only 10 mins before the train left. The line moved though and I caught the train, which looked like the same (British Rail 158 Class) train I got in Chester. Once aboard though, it was clearly not even related. This train, in contrast to the intercity I took from Dublin gave a rough and rickety ride out to Limerick junction, where I changed to a top of the line Dublin-Cork intercity. Very smooth and comfortable indeed, although the windows were tinted blues making my photos look odd. .

It got to Cork 30 mins before I expected. 10:45. I had booked a 'titanic trail' walking tour around nearby Cobh pronounced "cove" for 11, could I still make it? Cobh was the old port where irish emigration left from, including the Titanic I could just skip Cobh and look at Cork, but i looked out and wasn't tempted So when was the next train? Oh, 11. So I got there at 11:24. I hoped to catch up bit I didnt find the tour group, so I walked around by myself, catching the view from the Cathedral, the old Starline offices and the monuments to the Titanic and Lousitania. I had a look in the gift shop at the emigration heritage museum (no time go inside properly). They were selling little explanations of the meanings of Irish surnames and coats of arms and keyrings. In this place, where the train had to cross Lough Mahon and had an advert for a Mahon shopping centre, and the estate agent is Mahoney was there anything for Mahon? No. Nothing. There was McMahon though, which means bear if I remember right.

Anyway, the buses in Ireland are as scarce as the regional trains in France so I had to take my first of two expensive taxi journies to connect to the ferry. Cobh is on an island and I noticed there was a ferry short cut to south of Cork where the new port is. So I arranged for a taxi to pick me up on the other side.

The nearest train station was a good 10 mins brisk walk or so from the nearest train station and my guestimate of when to pick me up was out by 10 mins late. This wasn't helped by running the phone in airplane mode to save battery, although I turned it on for the pick up time. So on the other side... and no taxi. I called them up and they said they tried to contact me. Hmm, the operator probably took down the wrong number. Long and short of it; a taxi was dispatched and I got to the terminal in good time. €12 though, for what was only a trifle of a distance. Too far to walk in the time, but only a 15 min journey.

Cork's ferry terminal at Ringaskiddy is modern and clean. Also in port was what I think is the Fastnet ferry to Swansea. The little café was brewing coffee constantly for the French passengers and Netherlands vs Japan played silently on the tv. 2pm and boarding time arrrived. A queue surrounded by a scrum. I don't know how much of the scrum was French but I saw a few Briish passports in the queue.

I had seen the Pont Aven, Brittany Ferry's flagship cruiseship style ferry arrive while in Cobh and close up it was huge, but not nearly as big, it turned out as the real cruise ship 'Aurora' we passed, which was moored in Cobh. Up on the open deck, sailing out of Cork was quite magnificent. Cobh which looked OK from the ground, looked beautiful from the sea and the Aurora, which recieved a watercannon salute from to coastguard who were also in port added some glamour. I didn't take a picture with the iPhone. The digicam took some nice shots though, for later.

I managed to track just as we sailed off my Viewranger map.



The ship was a bit cruisehip style, so it had a lobby atrium, spiral staircase and swimming pool. All nice. One floor was all restaurants. The next ,bars and entertainment and below, 2 small cinemas. I had seen all the films on show already, so I watched, I think it was called Valentine. Obviously a "chick flick" and I was the only man in there, but it was good in a LA story everthing is connected sort of way.

Before and after the cinema I watched football matches in the bar area. No sound though. The sountrack was the cabaret act. Bad luck Cameroon, they looked great in the middle, just a bit hapless defending and scoring. The passengers were cheering on their former colony though. I was cheering Ghana against Australia. I was suprised their score-draw left them top of their group. Good luck against Germany.

I didn't have a cabin, I had a dreaded recling seat, but the lounge, despite being very noisy, and noisier later with snoring, was only about 10% full, so I slept a little in the chair, not sure how much, some on the floor of my row, and back in the chair. When I went to the loo I discovered there was only 1 hour to go, and before I got out, the 45min wake up call was made, all lights on. So I had a little rush to shower and no time for a proper breakfast but all done in time. Oh, the crossing was totally placid, like a dream and there was a lovely sunset and a red sun was peaking up as we docked in Roscoff.

At this point my camera tells me the battery is low, then dead. Already? So I retreated to the iPhone, which through careful use of airplane mode was on 75% battery, 24 hours later! That's good, by the way, if you don't have an iPhone.

Viewranger saved me again in Roscoff. I was going to meet a taxi at the tourist office at 7am and I got out of the port at 6.20am local time. But I nearly walked off in complempletly the wrong direction. Only a sense of too much suburbia let me to turn on the gps to direct me to the town centre. Unfortunately I did not have time to see, and it was too early anyway for, the Johnnie musuem. Apparently Johnnies is what French men on bicycles selling onions were called. You know the image, stripped shirt and a beret, they were Bretons from Brittany, and I think they and their bikes have been suceeded by truck drivers. Anyway. Roscoff, nice little port. Casino, winery, Irish pubs, not really my scene.


The taxi driver was exactly on time, at 7am and fairly quickly I was in Morlaix. Enough time that I decided to go to the town centre and start walking back at 8 am. And this taxi fare, because the first train from Roscoff didn't leave till late morning was €62! Heavens! I am oil shocked.

Morlaix is in a valley and there are 100 steps (more like 120) down from the station to the centre ville, at the base of the viaduct which carries the railway over the valley. I saw what happened to the river, which was nowhere apparent from photos I saw, it was buried in a storm channel and comes out just after the town centre. Not sure old old it was 17th century?



Down there I smelt out an open bakery. So I bought a baguette and a pastry. Not quite as cheap as Sainburys but tasty and fresh.


Back up and a slightly scruffy TGV arrived and I took my first class seat. But is there much difference to standard class. Apart from the seats, not much. On é va, Paris! 4 mins away!

Killaloe Ireland

Oh what a beautiful country. It is supremely green. I really understand the meaning of 'Emerald Isle' now, but only since arriving from Dublin into the hills and loughs (pronounced locks) of the West coast and County Clare.

So. Picking up where I left off; the train from Chester was a sort of commuter express stopper. It stopped, if not at every station, at most of them. It even stopped at that 'gogogoch' station with the longest name in Britain. It's a dramatic journey along the North Coast: to your left is dramatic hills and in the distance the mountains of Snowdonia and to your right in the sea and in the distance are dozens of huge windmills. Right next to the track though was something less pretty, thousands of mobile holiday trailer homes. A great location when it's sunny, but all quite ugly.

Crossing over the straits into Anglesey, evidence of humans thinned out a bit but quick enough we were in the town of Holyhead; end of the line. It was intersting to notice that I seemed to be in a small group all in the same carriage from London and now walking to the terminal. The train had left Chester about 10 mins late, but there seemed plenty of time. However, on entering the terminal we heard "last call, last call" for our ferry! Oops! Everyone got on though.

The journey across to Dublin was uneventful, I had a sausage and egg bagutte from a French attendant. I didn't notice any Irish crew on the ferry. Russians maybe. Oh I did think about having Irish stew, but I didnt fancy the price. The weather out of Holyhead was fantastic and sunny. But when i came out on deck approaching Dublin it was grey.

I dont think I saw Dublin's best side this time. The bus from the port took in all the industrial areas and the area around the bus station was a bit shabby. Even the street going to the Millenium spike thing and the famous GPO was a bit messy and cramped. Once in the open at the GPO and that wide boulevard that was good, but packed with people and cars. It needs pedestrianising I think. But I had no time to look for anything else than the nearest tram stop, where a beggar was determined to help me operate the machine. In a friendly way, but obiously hoping to be given the change. She got €0.50. Hope she doesn't smoke it.

The tram was packed but despite having to stop at traffic lights, it got me to Heuston Station 10 mins before my train to Limerick. I thought I had good time to buy a bottle of water, but as I approached the platform I noticed that mine, platform 7 was nowhere to be seen. I noticed an arrow and it was about 150m away behind the other platforms. So a gentle dash was in order to catch it.

And a nice train it was. Wide comfortable seats and much less than half full. For a diesel, it was quiet too and had a smooth ride. So I had an easy snooze, helped by the fairly boring flat countryside out of Dublin. There was plenty of evidence of EU funding and the housing boom. New stations, new track, new estates all along the line. Apparently there's been a massive housing crash, but in my skim through I didn't really get much sense of crisis other than a few humourous political rally posters in Dublin.

Anyway eventually the train slid into Limerick crime capital of Ireland or something. I was picked by my old school friend Ross and whisked away from the impending horrors to the idyll of Killaloe, which is just across the river from Tipperary. So not such 'a long way to go,' to enjoy a sip of Guiness. A sip to Ross' Guiness to tell the truth. I had a Heineken. The view from the pub there, Molly's I think, was over the Lough and to the hills around. Very dramatic, very hard to photo in the dusk! Apparently it's a myth that all Irish pubs have singing and traditional music all the time,it's an occasional thing so I didn't see any. Maybe next time.

Next day we went into the hills for a hike. I used Viewranger to track it using GPS and was disappointed to find that it would not find my location unless I kept the mobile phone part of the iPhone on, draining battery. We walked about 12km up and around a hill. It was great to get out in the fresh air and the boots held up, grip-wise.

Ross took the family dog, May who seemed to love it, running around but always looking back obediently. Part of the hike went through forest. It was a pine tree plantation managed by the Forestry Commision. It was interesting how under the trees, there was no grass and no flying insects. In fact it was basically dead but for the trees. Ross explained that the pine needles blocked out the light and were acidic and did no good for the peat they were planted on. Planted on peat? Apparently Ireland is covered in so much peat that they burn it to make power! So much because its a mostly flat country with a hilly rim, so when it rains, and it rains alot, it becomes soggy and boggy, perfect conditions for composting and peat formation I guess. But not a very sustainable power source.

My visit coincided with an apparently rare bout of summery blue skies, apart from when on the walk. It rained at the start and stayed cloudy. Now, I won't say that the iPhone saved us from getting lost up there, but, it aided navigation at certain junctures, particularly now that Viewranger have added an electonic compass indicator. I don't what the main power drain was but the battery was chomped through and after about 4 hours there was little left.

In the pic below, you can see Molyussa, the highest peak in the area. We were going to climb it, but it was tough enough getting to the base and the path up looked overgrown. I have grown more tolerant of flies and bushes since working in the garden, but I was at my limit. That's my reason, at least.








We met Ross' lovely wife and daughter Cath and Eleanor in town for a cappuchino and cake at a lovely café let down by somewhat distracted service.

Dinner and football later in the evening. Although they say it is the most World Cup boring ever, I love international football and this World Cup. Emphasis on international. I hate watching England play and against Algeria they underscored (ha ha!) my pessimism. Whereas Netherlands and Cameroon are playing a super fast pinball game: laser sharp passing and dazzling speed, England seemed to playing blindfolded, just awful. No idea what they are going to do now.

Left behind

So. I'm off on holiday. My travel wallet is fat and about to slim as i discard tickets. I always forget something and this time it's annoying. I have forgotten:

- my wash bag!!
- my spare 2gig memory card for camera
- my SIGG water bottle.

This is what happens when you pack at the last minute Gah. So that'll cost me some Euros to fix. I'm on a train to Chester as I write this. A tilting Virgin Super Voyager. From there I'll get an Arriva Wales train to the coast at HolyHead for the 12:15 fast ferry to Dublin.

I don't know how much time I'll have in Dublin. I have a train to catch at 15:25 for Limerick where I'll stay with my old School mate Ross for two nights. He's planned that we'll try to climb a hill in County Clare called Molyussa to see some spectacular views of the nearby lake. Sounds good to me (as our lamentable Eurovision entry sang!). It is wonderful weather though.

Speaking of which; the weather forcast for my destinations in the Bernese-Oberland in Switzerland and Chamonix-Mont Blanc in France have turned from rain to sun. Which is a blessed relief - no point climbing cloudy mountains. They are also showing around 20 degrees centigrade. So before I left, I ditched a few t-shirts to lighten the load.

Next blog from Ireland! Goodbye England!