Monday 27 February 2023

The Western Highlands

 Or, Scotland by rail part 3

View of mountains around Loch Leven towards Glencoe

January 2023

Having had our return journey (in Whisky Galore) disrupted, we were offered a complementary single journey as compensation. Lovely. Then Covid happened and things were obviously delayed but ScotRail were true to their word and we arranged a trip in November 2021. Two weeks before we were due to leave, word came of a rail strike for part of our time and our journey was completely cancelled under us. The hotel and other things were booked however so we decided to drive up - adding an extra two days and two overnight stops to the journey, but we had a great time in Inverness, Speyside and even visited John O'Groats for the craic.

This latest problem added another discount to our tickets that we have now used without further incident, and this is that tale:

Wednesday night  / Thursday:

No fancy restaurant or visit to Milroy's this time, Steve's knee was not up to long walks or stairs and none of us fancied aimlessly trolling about north London anyway, so we packed a picnic; including haggis stuffed potato scones to help celebrate Burns Night; and we left Fratton late in the afternoon on a more comfortable than usual SWT train aiming to get to Euston without rushing.  We grabbed a taxi from Waterloo and arrived at Euston's taxi rank in plenty of time, even allowing for the longish walk to the station concourse. The Caledonian Sleeper was not on the departure board yet so we found a seat and waited. During which time Steve got an email saying that the water in the cabins was not working but that everything else was fine and they were looking forward to welcoming us on board. The news was greeted with a shrug and a tot of whisky from my hipflask. Restless, I determined to find out where our train would be. The ticket  office chap didn't know for sure but that it was always either platform 1 or platform 15. I checked both and there it was at Platform 1. Just as I established this fact the announcement was made that we could board, which we duly did to the accompaniment of a lone piper (Burns Night, again). The new cabins are pretty much just an update on the old ones with a very similar design and layout, slightly bigger window and more mod cons but still a little more cramped (it seems) than its European counterparts. But they also retain the adjoining compartment door so were we able to properly share our splendid picnic, quality wine and more whisky before allowing the clack of the rails to rock us to sleep. Before turning in finally, I checked that our breakfast order had been taken and the lovely Fiona, our coach's attendant, assured us that she had it and furthermore that it would be complementary owing to the lack of running water in the cabin although they had supplied ample bottled. 
We woke to snow-capped peaks and coffee and bacon rolls to enjoy them with, rolling into Fort William a few minutes ahead of schedule.
This time I had booked a hire car for us from a local company, which turned up a little late as they were dealing with another hire from the train and it really is a small local operation. Our ride for the week was a rather swish Audi sports model, low-profile tyres and automatic gearbox an' all. Lovely, but not, as we discovered, ideal for some of the more remote Scottish roads we were to travel. Knowing that we were not able to check in to our apartment before 4pm, I had arranged a visit to a gin distillery where we were to have the full experience, coming away with our own bottle of ultra-small batch craft gin made to our own recipe (with much guidance of course).
Pixel Spirits turned out to be a side project of the Loch Leven Hotel, or was the hotel the side project? It's hard to say but it was a splendid afternoon in glorious surroundings. Welcomed with coffee and biscuits, then a chat about the company over a gin and tonic before a tour of the distillery.

We were then shown to our mini stills and a table with over 100 botanicals to choose from and following some very clear guidance we came up with our recipes and set to weighing our ingredients before firing up the stills and watching the process unfold, intervening at the appropriate times, turning a litre of grain alcohol into, in our case, English Breakfast Gin, while Steve and Alison came up with something more floral and herby in their bottle of "Three Score Years and Ten" celebrating, as we were, Steve's 70th birthday. 

It was a really great afternoon, we learned a lot and came away with a good understanding of the process and a unique gin, which if we think worthwhile, they will make further bottles to order from our recipe.
As we were staying in an apartment this time rather than a hotel, a quick visit to Morrison's was in order to source breakfast items etc. before we checked in, unpacked and showered. The apartment block is in an old garrison building up the hill a bit from the main road but very comfortable, if a little under-lit. There turns out to be steps down the side of the building to the main road, fetching up barely 50 metres from the curry house we enjoyed on our last visit and do so again on a surprisingly busy Thursday night.


Friday

Today is Ardnamurchan day and is the first real test of our flashy sports Audi as the roads on the peninsula are narrow, winding and less than smooth. First stop however, is the Corran Ferry across the narrowest point of Loch Linnhe. It's a flatbed roro, and the crossing is about a third of a mile but it costs a tenner each way for cars although pedestrians go free. It's a beautiful drive down the coast from the ferry and the road then cuts inland between Garbh Bheinn and Creach Bheinn and then down the side of Loch Sunart to Salen. The road forks there and the way to the distillery continues down the side of the Loch for a few miles. Driving it is a tense affair but we get there and pull into the rather smart distillery overlooking the loch where we are greeted with confusion as Caren had forgotten to book our tour into the new electronic system. All is well though, it's January and there's no other visitors. It's a marvellous distillery, determinedly carbon-neutral and sustainable and produces a jolly fine dram. Caren is a delightful host and we have a lovely time. It's well into lunchtime by now and it's January. Nothing nearby is open so we forego any idea of driving to the point of the peninsula - the westernmost point of the British mainland - and turn back towards Salen and take the turn north. At Acharacle there's a community café that serves food all day including the most delicious Full Scottish Breakfast in which I indulge wholeheartedly before we continue on our way. The plan is to make a circuit via Glenfinnan back to Fort William but not far out of Acharacle I screech to a halt as a roadside venison stand appears as we round a corner. The sign directs us to the red house next door and eventually the occupant shuffles out to help us. It's his son's shop he tells us but he is out shooting some more stock. We buy what turn out to be some excellent sausages and a particularly fine haunch to roast for Steve's birthday on Monday. 
The road winds on, heading towards the coast before it will join the main "Road to the Isles" and we turn back towards Fort William. On one of the more isolated stretches, we are forced to a stop while a gang of workmen close the road to take what looks like an outsized lawnmower to some overhanging trees. After a wait of some twenty minutes, I edge our car with its low-profile tyres gingerly over the debris and off we go again.
We stop briefly at Glenfinnan to take pictures of the viaduct and buy some Harry Potter related toy or other for Osian, but as time is getting on, we don't stop long and are back in FW in good time to rest up and change before dinner at the winter premises of the fish restaurant we enjoyed so much last time. It once again serves up an excellent repast and our day draws to its close climbing the steps back to the apartment and enjoying a few drams, mine being those of the Ardnamurchan tasting, helpfully decanted into little bottles for the driver.

Saturday

Oban is today's destination and it's Sarah's turn to drive, not something she's looking forward to as she's not a big fan of automatics. The direct road is a winding but very scenic affair and it takes a little over half an hour to get there. We park up and explore, it's a beautiful town with much to recommend it; a lovely harbour, two very fine whisky shops and "The Gem Box", a childhood memory of Sarah's whose family loved Oban and Mull and whose late cousin loved shopping at this jeweller. There's nothing that takes our fancy there today however so we seek out the distillery. We knew in advance that they weren't doing tours and the only tasting they will offer is the official one at 2pm which is verging on a bit too late for our other plans for the day. Neither do they produce miniatures and their whole attitude comes across as being a bit snotty. Never mind, there's a charmingly ordinary local pub, Aulay's Bar, near our car park which not only serves delicious haggis rolls alongside some pretty decent beer, but also sells the local dram which we try and like well enough. Resolving that the distillery had lost the opportunity of a direct sale, we spend some time, and far too much money, in the independent whisky shops instead.
Tonight's meal is something of a blow-out as we've opted to throw caution to the wind and dine at Inverlochy Castle where Michel Roux Jr oversees the menu. It's a wonderful evening with great food and a fabulous accompanying flight of wines in an exceptional setting including, at the top of the stairs leading to the lavatories, a snooker room straight out of an inter-war novel with the most enormous elk head on the wall. 

Sunday

Today is the longest trip of the tour as we're booked into Talisker on Skye. And it's stormy. Knowing we could potentially be a bit jaded after the night before, our visit isn't until after 2pm but it's still a relatively early start as it's over two and a half hours away. And it's stormy. We turn off the main Inverness road at Invergarry and head towards Kyle of Lochalsh as the worst of the storm hits. The drive over the pass into Invershiel is particularly challenging and we're barely halfway. Eventually we get to the bridge over to Skye and, despite the lack of water-borne transport, a chorus of The Skye Boat Song breaks out in the back seat. Skye is the largest of the Inner Hebrides so there's still a way to go to Carbost and the Talisker distillery but at least the weather is easing. 
Water is cascading off the mountains, and the road gets smaller the further we go but we arrive in the area in good time, as planned, and we start to think about lunch. Despite what the internet had to say about our options, nothing we had researched was actually open, so we rocked up at our destination some 90 minutes early and despite signs to an on-site café there was nothing to eat there either. We leave Steve perusing the shop and dash back up to the local community store just as it's closing but the
proprietor's  a good soul and lets us buy our provisions which we then consume in the rather smart waiting area of the visitor centre. Finally working out that we were the only people booked in on the 2:30pm presentation, and the likelihood of 'passing trade' was virtually nil, they suggest we take the experience now so we waste no more time and head to the tasting room. The 'experience' is billed as a multimedia extravaganza but in reality is a series of promotional films and a guided tasting but it's ok, and Sarah's driver's drams come in a neat hessian bag with a free funnel, so that's good. The shop is well stocked and we end up buying a bottle of 9 year old wine cask finish that you can bottle yourself, which is a lovely detail, so I have a bottle of Talisker with my name on it and an entry in the customs book.
The drive home is much less hairy as the weather has eased considerably. We stop at the Collie and MacKenzie statue at Sligochan for a wander and photos before turning towards home pausing only to fill up at the Co-op in Broadford whose petrol is noticeably cheaper than anywhere else we've seen. It's dark by the time we get back to FW, and we hunker down to a meal of venison sausages and plenty of whisky.

Monday

When originally planning this trip, we had thought we'd leave on Monday but for some arcane reason we couldn't get the train until Tuesday evening so we decided to go to Mull on Monday as a sort of bonus trip. The usual way to get there I believe is to go to Oban and catch the ferry to Tobermory but that's far too easy for us intrepid travellers. 
We cross Linnhe by the Corran ferry as per, then at Loch Sunart we fork left and cross the mountains to Lochaline and the short ferry across the straits to Fishnish on Mull. From there it's a very scenic half hour drive to Tobermory and the most delightful distillery experience of our trip - even though it was my turn to drive! I had emailed the distillery ahead of our trip saying we were hoping to get there this day but certainly couldn't guarantee what time, so would they be able to accommodate us on something of an ad hoc basis? When we arrived they were more than welcoming and offered us what would normally be a warehouse tasting of their finer whiskies at 2pm, but with the warehouse closed for refurbishment we could have a short tour instead. That suited us admirably so we decamped to the pub next door for a pint and a burger before a wander around the harbourside of Ballymory, I mean Tobermory - which I still associate with the Wombles as our kids were grown up long before Ballymory was a thing. It's a delightful place even with half of it closed and we manage to get a few things we needed including a postcard for Michael.

The distillery tour is great; no matter how many of these we do, there's always something new or different. The tasting is long and relaxed and from my tiny sips I manage to guess the finish of a couple of the drams and am thoroughly chuffed with myself. Time is pressing however, there's a long way and two ferries to get home in time to roast the venison for Steve's actual birthday dinner so, reluctantly we return to the car and head back. I don't get much company on the way home aside from a few snores and a drunken rendition of 'Sailing' as we're crammed onto the Corran ferry for the last time. The road back from Lochaline is twisty and the fog has descended so I'm quite grateful for the relative silence as I try to keep up with the tail lights of the car in front, but I'm no match for his local knowledge and lose sight just before the summit and crawl down the other side before the fog clears and the altitude lowers. Aiming to get back by 6pm, I pull up at 6:15 which I think is pretty good considering the three-quarter hour wait at Fishnish. There's a rush to get the meat in the oven and we're back on schedule for what is an excellent repast followed by more whisky.

Tuesday

We've arranged to have the car for the rest of the day and we think that a trip to Spean Bridge would be worthwhile as it's advertised as a woollen mill and whisky centre but it's nothing but a tourist trap for unwary Americans so we have to make other plans. Despite my misgivings it's decided that a drive out to Mallaig would suit. I think this is largely swayed by memories of the crab sandwiches we had there last time because there's bugger all else to do there. It is a good drive though, especially in the Audi and we rock up at a very windy Mallaig where nothing at all is open save the local Co-op. Still, it's a nice drive. The way home passes Glenfinnan again and their visitor centre has a café that was open last time we passed so that's our new destination. There's also a very good little exhibition about the Jacobite Rebellion which started here in 1745. After coffee and cake, and in between showers, Sarah and I wander over to the impressive memorial to the rebellion.
The afternoon plans centre around the Ben Nevis pub, once we've garnered enough supplies for our train picnic later. Having parked the car at the station, left the keys with the ticket office and  the bags in left luggage, it's a fifteen minute walk through town to the pub. On the way I notice that the wool shop that had been closed every other time we passed, was open so Sarah and I went in while the others went to secure a table for a late lunch. It's a charming shop, up a flight or two of stairs and turned out only to be open because the owner's friend from Eigg was stuck on the mainland after a late-night helicopter trip to the hospital for her, thankfully well, young baby. Two bags of fleece, some wool and a couple of books later (one signed by the woman from Eigg who turned out to be its author), we bid a fond farewell and find the others at the pub. Pie and chips all round, and more than a couple of pints of the local brew pass the afternoon swimmingly, but eventually it's time to go. 

Having retrieved our many, heavy, bags we're waiting in the fairly cold foyer when we're invited into the First Class lounge - there's far too few passengers at this time of year we're told, to keep it too exclusive. We're checked in, fed coffee and biscuits and wait in comfort for the call to board. The paucity of passengers also means we can get a seat in the dining car for the first part of our journey where we enjoy a conversation with the steward and a miniature of Glen Garrioch just to be sociable. There's also a repeat of the cabin water problems so our breakfast is again free. We return to our cabins, consume our picnic (and a dram or two) before turning in, oblivious until we are served breakfast somewhere in the midlands before rolling into an empty Euston (there's a train strike) just ahead of schedule.

Wednesday

We've booked a taxi home at great expense and he's late. We eventually get hold of him and he's stuck in traffic not having realised there'd be trouble on a rail strike day. He finally shows up and we load our bags into the boot and ourselves into the car. It's comfortable but this guy is not a good driver and, being in the front seat, my journey home is fraught with worry but we get there in one piece and fall into the house.


Wednesday 7 September 2022

Seville, mostly

September 2022

After two and a half years off the rails, Spain beckons. We'll be travelling from Fratton (of course) to London, Eurostar to Paris where we'll tick off our last Parisian mainline station when we leave on the sleeper from Gare Austerlitz to Latour de Carol in the Pyrenees. From there a local train will take us to Barcelona where we'll overnight before catching the morning train to Granada. After a couple of nights there visiting the Alhambra, we'll head to Seville for the best part of a week, visiting Jerez, before heading home via Madrid and Santander where we'll catch the ferry to Portsmouth.

Day One

Fratton Station
The night before we leave there's a big thunder storm and water is coming in through the bathroom vent. After some running repairs we retire and awake the next morning to find everything in place so we shrug, get ready and set off to catch the 11.54 to Waterloo. Minor panic as a Southern Trains service to Victoria is abruptly cancelled but nothing else is affected and, although we set off slowly, thanks to other delayed Southern Trains - a fact our conductor is keen to remind us of throughout the journey - we arrive in good time and cross London by tube and sit patiently in St Pancras International waiting for our train gate to open.
I know Eurostar have had their critics recently but just to say, passport control and security was as smooth as possible with the added entertainment of one of the 'guides' making sure we got in the right passport lane - "no, this one, not my fault it's brexit".  
Arrived at Paris Nord bang on time leaving us just shy of two hours to get across Paris to Gare d'Austerlitz on a packed Ligne 5 and notwithstanding a wrenched elbow gained by lifting a heavy case and bag over the barrier. Anyway, Austerlitz will be lovely once it's finished and is the last mainline station in Paris from which we have departed (I may have mentioned this before). There's quite a wait in our airy (ok, outside) waiting area before the board directs us to the platform for our Intercités de nuit sleeper to Latour. There are no private beds on this train and I think we were too late booking to take advantage of an espace privée supplement, so we find ourselves sitting on our quite comfortable couchettes finishing off a half bottle of half decent Bordeaux before turning in under the sleeping bag provided for us. We have one traveling companion in the upper bunk but it's all very convivial as we speed on through the night to the Pyrenees.

Day two

At around 7am, our traveling companion starts moving about as quietly as she can and eventually leaves the train at Foix. We are thus left to ourselves for the next couple of hours as our train climbs slowly into the Pyrenees. It's beautiful. Mountain trains are the best, moving slowly through spectacular scenery while you gently take it all in and if it's a sleeper, you can come to your senses at leisure. And while this particular morning might not quite equal waking up to an eagle taking flight in the Highlands, the window is three times the size and we can both easily enjoy the passing view.

Eventually we come to a halt at the impressive but practically deserted Latour de Carol Enveitg station on the Spanish border. There's a nice looking café just outside but it turns out to be shut on a Wednesday so we have to content ourselves with coffee and pastries from the Relay concession in the station. Our Rodales train to Barcelona is due to leave at 10.25 and there's an announcement to that effect but there's no train and the half dozen of us waiting shrug and laugh at the imaginary transport that is 'about to leave' so 'please close the doors'. A moment or so later a man appears from the station building and shouts across the tracks to those of us waiting and it turns out the said train is 15 minutes late arriving. Twenty minutes later we board, and trundle off down the other side of the mountains to our destination. The first three quarters of the journey are spectacular (when not in the many short tunnels) but it gets more prosaic the closer to Barca we get and the last few kilometres are underground. 

We're staying at AC Sants across the concourse from the station and check in before having a very welcome shower and a bit of a siesta. It's a comfortable business oriented hotel and is so convenient for a brief stay in the Catalan capital as most trains come in and out of Sants and there's a massive taxi rank outside. Suitable refreshed we find there's still time for a short trip out and we settle on the museum of the art of Catalunya on Mount Juic. We wander across an get in one of those taxis which takes us right up to the museum and then swerves round and up the hill to a point nearer the actual entrance. There's a mobile bar affair outside the main door and a beer seems in order while we take in the panoramic view of the city. It's a spectacular venue and very well presented, plus Sarah gets in free. There's a lot to see but we confine ourselves to a splendidly presented exhibition of rescued medieval frescoes, altarpieces and other religious art from the region followed by a walk through the history of Spanish art.

Dinner tonight is at La Tere Gastrobar where we ate last time we were here; we hope it's as good and generally it is. The quality of food is still very good but I guess covid has contributed to robbing it of some of the ambience and bonhomie we experienced last time. Our train to Granada leaves at 8.30am so we retire to our room and watch something we'd downloaded on the iPad before turning in.

Day three

The convenience of our hotel can't be overstated. It's comfortable too, although the air conditioning this time was positively arctic. Left is the view from our window of the station, so it's a matter of supreme ease to walk across the street to catch our high speed train to Granada this morning. We have splashed out for confort class seats for the roughly six hour journey. Masks have to be worn and it takes a little while to get used to that again. Sarah has been spending time on every train making lace and today we're sharing our table with a Spanish pair, one of whom is crocheting a shawl and regales us with many photos of their previous efforts, all of which are excellently made but are largely variations on a theme.

The landscape of the Ebro valley is interestingly stark as we approach Zaragoza then passing Madrid on towards Cordoba there's farmland and olive groves. We get lunch from the buffet car; toasted iberico ham with tiny bottles of olive oil and a rather marvellous tomato concoction to tart it up with, together with a glass of red wine. 

Leaving Cordoba, where our new friends get off, we learn that the Queen is at death's door and I'm glad not to have to face wall-to-wall Nicholas Witchell speculating with no solid information for hours on end. It seems however that this is it.

Meanwhile, the track from Antequera to Granada is all olives and distant mountains. There's a new road being built and what looks like a wildfire in the distance but we arrive in good order into 33° heat and take a taxi to our hotel where we have to wait a while to check in at 4pm, no earlier. It's worth it however as we're upgraded to a very comfortable ground floor suite in this listed 17th century Palacio. The man at reception is extremely helpful and has prepared a useful guide to all that's good for our short stay here including where and when to get the best photos of the Alhambra and the best places to eat.

Time for a siesta.

Upon waking we learn that the Queen has indeed died.

We still need to eat so we head to La Diamante recommended by our host and manage to get a couple of seats at the bar. We order a couple of beers and get a mixed plate of seafood and aubergine to keep us going. We order clams, deep-fried anchovies and a dish of mushrooms and devour the lot washed down with a couple more beers. The food is as fresh as it is delicious and generous, the service is hectic and friendly. It's very popular. We go back to the hotel for a whisky and a relatively early night for tomorrow we have the Alhambra.





Day four

Our tour starts at noon, we're to be there fifteen minutes beforehand. Never one to leave things to the last minute, we're there an hour early. Time for breakfast at one of the cafés and still have twenty minutes to wait with no clue as to who out of the many tour guides in the meeting area will be ours. I wave my tickets at some of them but they shake their heads, they're not ours. Finally I find a few fellow tourees and we gather together outside the gift shop before Ana breezes up and announces she's the 12 o'clock English tour guide (she's actually local but her English is excellent). Tickets issued we start our three hour tour of the entire complex. It's fascinating, Ana has a PhD in Islamic studies and so provides us with perhaps far more insight than we might have had on other tours. We hadn't realised quite how extensive the Alhambra is but the best is saved for last as the tour ends in a crescendo of beauty and with us exhausted but happy. Sadly for us, the tour ends quite a distance and downhill from the entrance and the gift shop from where we've resolved to buy a suitable "coffee table" book. The climb back up is arduous in our tired state and the continuing 33 degree heat. 

A bus back to the centre and a search for lunch (at 4pm!) finds us inhaling egg, chips, chorizo, Andalucian black pudding, fried green peppers and pork loin washed down with beers and sparkling water at a café restaurant not far from last night's excellent repast. This too is wonderful, a sort of full Andalusian all-day breakfast.

We've been told that a particular church is as spectacular as any Rome has to offer so, refreshed, we catch the number 8 bus across the city and arrive at said church ten minutes before it closes. They won't let us in. Not even for a quick peek. Grrrr. It's a way out of town, among the university buildings, not being entirely sure of finding a bus back in this still searing heat, I check and find Granada has Uber so I call one and eventually we're back at the hotel for a shower and a snooze. A table has been booked at Los Manueles for 9.30pm - still early for Spain - and we have a decent meal there this time washed down with white sangria.

Day five

Before leaving for Seville there's time for breakfast at the "Alhambra Café" on Bib-Ramblas and some last minute shopping. We even squeeze in a visit to their very splendid cathedral before a taxi takes us to the station.

There's a pretty long queue for our train and every one's luggage has to be x-rayed before boarding. Our ticket is for Antequera where we change trains for Seville. It now seems the train we're about to board is also going to Seville which produces a moment's confusion but then I realise it's going via Cordoba which surely must take longer. In the event about twenty other passengers get off with us and board what turns out to be the train from Málaga to Seville arriving at around quarter past four.

Seville station is smart, new and cavernous. Outside is hot, stiflingly so. We find the taxi rank and get in the first available. Trouble is, the driver doesn't seem to know her way around, has to ring the apartment owners, still can't find it and has to use Sarah's Google maps directions to get us there. She still charges us €10 for the privilege despite having gone at least half a kilometre in the wrong direction.

The apartment is wonderful. It has a proper kitchen, living room and bedroom, a large bathroom, a balcony AND a rooftop pool. We go shopping and I cook us a spicy chicken tagliatelle dish as we enjoy a quiet night in. In the meantime I book us a tour of the Alcázar in the morning. 

Day six

The Alcázar is a fifteen minute walk from the apartment and Google maps takes us a slightly longer way than necessary but we fetch up at the Lion Gate in good time and wait. It's becoming increasingly clear that the deal with the tickets isn't the same as it was in Granada and all we've bought is a jump the queue ticket. There are plenty of potential guides around however and one seems particularly promising. We end up in a small group of six, there's a good dynamic and we have a thoroughly enjoyable tour. The Alcázar itself is beautiful in all respects and was substantially rebuilt by King Pedro who was strongly influenced by the style of the  Alhambra and you can see echoes of that design throughout those parts of the palace. I get the impression that the decoration is not quite as fine as that at Granada but that's really a counsel of perfection as it is still wonderful. The gardens are particularly impressive but the heat drives us inside and we have a quick lunch in the café and a wander around what remains of the old gothic portion of the palace and the ceramics exhibition before leaving in what remains stifling heat.

Outside the cathedral we stop for a drink - a couple of Finos as it happens - and some pinchos, at Orio's bar. Deciding to head to the river we stumble on the tourist office and end up booking a river trip on a solar powered boat. The boat doesn't leave until 6pm so we have a couple of hours to kill. We carry on down to the river, about 100m away, past the Torre Oro and find the pier for later and sit in the shade for a while. Further down the bank there's a couple of bars which seem as good a place as any to wait. The nearest looks quite good, the bar is run by a young man with his uninterested girlfriend and there's plenty of room so we order Aperol spritz and enjoy the ambience, which includes a Spotify playlist called "In da Guettho" which we have great fun texting our horrified daughters about.

After an iced coffee we head back to the pier and before long are aboard the boat on our river trip, which proves only that Seville's waterfront is not all that interesting, particularly when the three language commentary is out of sync, but it's a calm and relaxing hour spent on the water. We would normally spend late afternoons wherever we're staying to recharge before going out to dinner but today. perhaps foolishly given the heat, we're walking back through the old town looking for a potential tapas bar crawl. In the end we find a good looking restaurant and stay there for dinner instead and then manage to crawl home for a well-earned sleep.

Day seven

It's raining! I booked tickets to the cathedral last night (it's Monday and not much other touristy stuff is open) and on our way there this morning it starts to rain. Annoyingly the pre-booked entrance is not the main entrance and we have to dodge the now quite heavy rain to the other side of the building before we can go in. Seville Cathedral is quite magnificent, apparently the third largest in Europe after St. Peter's and St Paul's (Rome & London) and contains the tomb of Christopher Columbus (or part of him at least) among other treasures. It feels more like a museum than an active church but it is beautiful and the morning is well spent. It has a lovely cloister with orange trees and a wooden crocodile hanging from the ceiling and the obligatory gift shop through which we exit and from which we buy our obvious souvenir for Seville - a cheap resin model of the Torre Oro.

We grab a beer at a local bar and decide to take a tourist bus tour of the city aiming to end up at Plaza d'Espagne. It's a very long tour with several very interesting sights but the area that once held the 1992 world fair, now a business park, is not one of them. We go round the whole tour and swap buses to start again so we can reach our goal. The Plaza d'Espagne, part of the extensive rebuilding for the 1929 Ibero-American exhibition, is hugely impressive but seems somehow under-utilised and we have one more stop before we head back to the apartment. The tobacco factory where Bizet set Carmen is now a university building but it remains an impressive structure and Sarah poses for a photo outside to send to friends with whom we went to see the opera at the Royal Opera House a few years ago, buying very expensive tickets during a night on the vodka.

Tonight we eat at a splendidly decorated Moroccan restaurant very near the apartment and it's rather good.

Day eight

Before we left home I booked us a tour of a sherry bodega in Jerez and a couple of days before departing I get a phone call from them asking if I realised I'd booked a Spanish language tour. Obviously I hadn't realised this, so our visit time was pushed back from midday to 4pm for the English version. This means we don't have to leave Seville quite as early as originally planned - Jerez is only just over an hour away by train so we resolve to catch the 10:45 and amble the ten minute walk to the station. Queueing at the Renfe ticket office, time is starting to look tight but ultimately the train is delayed anyway so we arrive in good order and walk into the centre of town.

As with nearly all places it seems, the area around the station is not very salubrious but as we walk further Jerez begins to unfold its charms and we find ourselves first at a bar in the Plaza de la Asuncion for a refreshing fino, and then lunch of anchovies and Russian salad at a very local café in the Plaza Plateros. Our tour is at the Bodegas Tradicion and on the way there is the cathedral so we stop for a visit and spend a cool half hour before climbing what turns out to be quite a steep hill up to the bodega. We arrive a little early but they're happy to let us in and we rest under a roof of vines alongside a couple who had arrived even earlier than us. By the time four o'clock rolls round there are a dozen there for the tour.
Bodegas Tradicion is a relatively new venture built on the foundations of a much older one and their interesting story is told before we visit the many barrels of sherry and get a very good grounding in how the various types of wine are made and how they differ from each other. We then get a generous tasting of several of their very fine products before we are led into what turns out to be the highlight of the tour; their excellent private art collection where we sip our Pedro Ximenes and marvel at this small but perfectly formed collection of Spanish art including examples from all the greats - Goya, Velasquez, El Greco, Picasso to name the obvious. Suitably enamoured, we buy a couple of bottles - a fino and oloroso - and share a taxi back to the station with another couple. A coffee in the station café kills the time waiting for our train back to Seville where our taxi driver this time has a much better idea of where things are.

I make us a meal using up the chicken and pasta we had bought on our first day as a lovely day comes to a very satisfying end.



Day nine

The weather is fine again, but thankfully not as hot. We're heading for the Seville Museum of Fine Arts gallery in the Plaza de Museo. It's a nice wander through a different part of Seville and we first come across the magnificent Setas de Sevilla, a large wooden structure known to locals as the mushrooms, finished in 2010 and a very modern landmark for this old city.

On the way we also pass Lizerran, a café bar recommended by Adam for its pinchos, so we stop for a beer and a snack which is indeed pretty good, before we move on to through shopping streets to the gallery.

The gallery itself is excellent. Well curated and a fascinating journey through more Spanish art, including a fine collection of Murillos, set in a lovely old palazzo with a cool courtyard interior.

It's our last night in Seville so we decide to try one of the nearby bars, the first of which, "Becerrita", turns out to be a more than decent restaurant and a fitting conclusion to our time here. The food is lovely and we settle on sherry with every course rather than a bottle of wine. A crisp, dry fino to start followed by a Palo Cortado and finishing with a very fine PX. 



Day ten

Today marks the turn for home as we turn north towards Madrid. We leave Seville fairly early in the morning and arrive in the capital just after 11am. We're at the main station, Atocha, but our hotel and tomorrow's departure station is at Charmatín so after failing to find the local train connection we get in a taxi to cross the city. Charmatín is the mainly business quarter and home to Real Madrid but the station is rather prosaic and the hotel, like AC Sants in Barcelona, is not built for tourists but is also not quite as nice as its Catalan counterpart. It will do for us though.

Sarah has found us a potentially interesting little museum to visit only a couple of metro stops away. Finding the metro itself is less that straightforward however but after wandering aimlessly for a few minutes we eventually find it down some steps from platform 1 of the main station. The ticket machines are also less than obvious and there are a couple of staff stationed nearby to help the many confused travellers. After that, the trip is as easy as it should be. The museum is ten minutes from the metro and up a slight hill but we find it easily enough and buy our tickets. It's often best, we find, to start at the top floor and work our way down. The lift in this building is a rather fine vintage wooden one and the museum itself is filled with a marvellous collection of art, objet and artefacts put together by José Lázaro Galdiano and bequeathed to the Spanish state.

We seem to be in a rather expensive part of town with the cafés offering rather more expensive food than we really require on a Thursday lunchtime but we find one that's more relaxed than the others and beautifully decorated where have a lovely, good quality lunch. Rather better quality than the station Burger King we get for dinner before a very early start in the morning.

Day eleven

We're on a fast train to Valladolid where we change and catch a slow train through the Cantabrian mountains down to Santander. The mountains are very picturesque with broadleaf woodland, ochre painted houses and wild pampas grasses framing the meadows and villages dotted along the way and making it look not quite like a Swiss alpine scene.

Santander station is half a mile form the hotel and once oriented we drag our weary carcasses to what turns out to be a very nice hotel near the water, and crucially, across the road from the ferry terminal. We are able to check in and after a quick rest, a shower and booking a restaurant for later  Sarah is desperate for a swim. Santander is actually bigger than it looks and the main beach is really too far to walk so we get the front desk to call us a taxi. Before launching ourselves onto the sand it's time for lunch.

There are a whole load of bus stops here and several of them will take us back to the hotel so after a swim (for Sarah, not me) and a sizeable ice cream we catch one.

Our dinner booking is at Querida Magarita, a Michelin recommended restaurant. it seems quite near on the map so we walk, but it's further than we thought and up a bit of a hill and in what looks like a more residential area but it's very much worth it and we have a great meal with paired wines at a very reasonable price. A taxi back to the hotel is essential after such a repast.

Day twelve

A day to wander around the centre of Santander, picking up some last-minute shopping and having lunch in the cathedral square before it reopens after siesta. The cathedral itself is nice, not very elaborate but calm. We also have a stroll in the park by the hotel and take some time to relax looking across the water and laughing at the forlorn attempts of a workman to keep his temporary barrier erect in what s quite a strong wind and in the face of a public determined to ignore it. The modern arts centre is quite the building and the park has several sculptures dotted around - it's a lovely place to sit quietly after what has been a busy couple of weeks.

Dinner turns out to be in an old covered market that has been converted into something with art shops, bars and a travel themed restaurant. It's a real contrast to the previous evening but no less enjoyable and a fitting way for our time in Spain to end.

Days thirteen and fourteen

We arrive at the recommended time to catch the 2pm ferry back to Portsmouth and wait. And wait. Brittany Ferries' Santander route does not seem geared up for foot passengers at all as we wait for all the vehicles to embark before following them up the vehicle ramp rather than via a separate passenger entrance as you might expect. Our cabin is nice though, thankfully I booked one with a window, and we settle down for our 28 hour voyage home. There's an interesting talk scheduled for the marine mammals we might see on the way but we fail to see any whales or dolphins on either day. A fair dinner is included and we then retire to our cabin and watch "Rocket Man" (3 Stars) on their video on demand service. Sadly I completely failed to put my iPad away properly for falling asleep and so managed to leave it behind when we disembarked.

The weather was calm for the whole crossing thankfully. We don't dock until 5.30pm though and with nothing else much to do we end up watching most of the Queen's funeral, which seems to be on almost every TV on board anyway. Once again the lack of regard for foot passengers shows as we don't get to leave until well after everyone else and the bus to the terminal is cramped and not geared up for the amount of luggage we all carry. After a long time at border control (yawn, thanks Brexiteers) we call an Uber and are soon home.


Carbon saved by not flying: 1.15 tonnes

Saturday 3 April 2021

When it's spring again...

February 2020

We love Amsterdam.

 Day One

Although worrying noises were beginning to come out of China, our sole concern at this time was the potential disruption of Storm Ciara. It was, however, a very leisurely start to a quick break in Amsterdam as we left Fratton station headed for a midday direct Eurostar to the Dutch capital. For some reason when we booked, the cheapest ticket out was in business class so we had a very relaxing and comfortable journey arriving on a late afternoon in early February.

On our first trip to Amsterdam back in 2012 we stayed at a lovely boutique hotel just off the Museumplein and in a fit of nostalgia we had booked the Hotel Jan Luykens again for what may turn out to be the last time. On booking in we were told that it would be closing in October. I dare say it closed earlier than that. It was a nice hotel and very conveniently located but lacked any dining facility. Accordingly we scout around for dinner and head for Sama Sebo a very popular Indonesian restaurant. The weather is wet and without a reservation we seem to be out of luck but as we pass along the outside looking for an alternative, one of the waiters waylays us with the offer of a seat at the bar if that would suit. It does indeed. We order the rijsttafel and stuff ouselves stupid on the most delicious and varied food.

Day Two - The Hague

We have started to want to explore further afield and so we are going to The Hague. Dutch trains are frequent and efficient so with only a fairly early start and a quick change in Utrecht we arrive at Den Haag HS mid-morning and head for our first stop; the Marithuis museum.

The Maritshuis is home, among other things, to The Goldfinch and Girl With A Pearl Earring, the latter attracting quite a crowd as we enjoy the many works of the Dutch Golden Age. It's a lovely museum gallery and well worth the trip on its own.

Through the Binnenhof, the old Dutch parliament buildings, we walk to the small Museum De Gevangenpoort exhibiting preserved relics of past crime and punishment, and the next door Galerij Prins Willam V, a small but delightful art collection. By now it's lunchtime and we eventually find a suitable café in the town centre.


Wandering the shopping centre and arcades, we decide there's enough time to visit the Escher museum before Storm Ciara will hit and force us to stay. Twigs are already being blown from the plane trees as we approach what turns out to be a highlight of the trip. It really is time to head back to the station now and we arrive in good time to find a seat on the high speed train to Utrecht which is suddenly not going anywhere. Everyone piles off and starts to stare at the departure board and I quickly realise that the commuter train on the next platform is going to Utrecht and we grab a seat before it fills to the brim with passnegers from the Intercity. It transpires that the cancellation was due to a broken down ICE which we pass near Gouda with one of its pantograph hanging off. 

The on train guard tells us that there's an ICE coming that will get us to Utrecht marginally quicker than the commuter train we're on so we take the chance and get off at one of the small stations and wait for longer than we we led to believe but it arrives and without any more drama we get back to what is now a very blustery Amsterdam. It's too early for dinner and we always like to rest up at our hotel if we can, so we do. 

The trouble is now that the storm is in full sail and our restaurant is thorough soaking distance away and we enjoy tasty traditional Dutch fare while quietly dripping on the floor at the window table.


Day Three - Rijksmuseum, diamonds and cheese

There's a very nice café just around the corner from the back of the Rijksmuseum where we have a pleasant breakfast before heading into the museum itself. It's always worth a visit and today is no exception and we spend all morning there breaking briefly for a beer and apple cake. Between the Rijks and our hotel, which we have often passed without entering is the House of Bols and the Diamond "museum". Watching craftsmen at work before resisting attempts to sell us expensive diamonds passed an hour before we stride firmly into the House of Bols for an excellent tour of its history and that of Jenéver before cashing in our free cocktail chits, having another cocktail, spending a small fortune in the shop and striding somewhat less firmly out again. The rest of the afternoon is spent at the hotel.

On the way over, flicking through the Eurostar magazine, there's an article on cheese which includes a rave revue of a pop-up fondue restaurant in an old factory site on the edge of the Westerpark. It's a bit out of the centre but sounds exciting so I get the phone out, find the website and manage to book a table in what turns out to be a very popular venue. It's quite a tram trip and we warily enter the complex, passing closed shops but also some bars that look promising. Eventually we find it right at the rear and with some relief, as we're still an hour early, pile into a very 'hip and trendy' nearby bar for a pre-dinner drink. The night turns out to be brilliantly memorable, the food, welcome and service excellent and fully cheesed up we get the tram back to the hotel.

Day Four - North Amsterdam

The ferries from the Centraal Station across the Ij are frequent and free! We've decided that today we'll explore further afield and head towards North Amsterdam where I've heard of an artists community in an old factory which is a vibrant centre duting the summer but even in winter has much to recommend it. It sounds like a plan so we catch the tram to the station cross the Ij and breakfast at Pont Neuf. 

The area is being heavily redeveloped and it's a long and sometimes confusing walk to our destination but we clock a fleamarket on the way and eventually find out target which thankfully is both open and houses a more than acceptable bar where we recover from the chill wind with large coffees before exploring further. It's definitely interesting and will be on our agenda next time we visit in the summer but there's not much happening now so we head back to the fleamarket for a fun time regretting we did not have a large van with us. Calling up the bus timetable on the phone we find and catch a bus back to the ferry. Just along the way is the eyecatching Eye filmmuseum where we have lunch and spend the afternoon.

Our last dinner this trip is at De Belhamel, a very good restaurant, beautifully decorated in art nouveau style and with a great view down the Herengracht canal. It's very popular and the food is sublime, as is the bar where we stay for a nightcap before we go back to our hotel for the last time.

Amsterdam offers so much for the traveller that we will surely be back again, pandemic or not.




Day Five - Home

Our journey home suffers from the after effects of the storm as some of the high speed lines are unuseable and it soon becomes clear that we will miss our Eurostar connection as our Talys ICE trundles through some of the minor lines around Rotterdam, Eurostar are ready for us however and we are booked on the next available train. They've received some criticism lately for their attitude to honouring CIV commitments for those with separate rather than "through" tickets, but we do have through tickets and the process is clear and easy.

We grab pasties at Waterloo and get home about two hours later than scheduled. As I finish this, over a year later, we have only managed a drive to our friend's house in Germany in the summer for a few days and it looks unlikely we shall be heading abroad again until 2022. Fingers crossed.


Carbon saved 50kg