Our friends in the north (part 2)

Monday dawned bright-ish, and so our plan was after another hearty farm breakfast to head to Hexham to catch the train to Carlisle and then onto Settle in Yorkshire, which just happens to go along the most picturesque and stunning line in Britain. OK, England.

We arrived at the station with half an hour to spare, and the guy in the ticket office went above and beyond the call of duty in trying to find us the cheapest fare possible for the trip, and would not take no for an answer.

The line to Carlisle was spectacular in itself, running beside the River Tyne right up into the Pennines to it's source; I claim to have spotted Hadrian's Wall at times, and all the time light played on the heather covered hilltops.



Sadly in modern times, rail companies seemed to have lost the idea of getting trains to connect, and so we had over an hour to wait before heading sout, and so we had a slow cup of coffee and I sat and watched the express trains and freight roaring through the station.

I could wax on and on about the trip along the line; 17 major viaducts and over 10 tunnels speak of the hard work in getting the line built. And it's survival is worth investigating as well. We passed through small villages, stopping at tiny stations, some stations having no houses to serve at all. And then just at the end of the line, we head over the Ribblehead Viaduct, 104 feet high, over a dozen arches, with views for miles on both sides.



Once at Settle we wait for the next train north, and get out at Ribblehead Station for a walk and for me to take pictures. We have lunch at the Station Hotel. Me a ploughman's made of a roll, a pot of pickled onions and branston and four huge wedges of very local full fat cheeses; and home made pate with loads of toast for Jools. It was wonderful, washed down wit a local ale called Black Mari'a. Time to walk to the viaduct to snap away and look up at passing trains high above before it was time to head back to the dessolate station for one of the last trains north; it was a two hour wait for the next one.



Another wait at Carlisle of an hour and then back over the Pennines to hexham and in the car to the coaching inn just down the road from the farm for dinner; steak and ale pie for me and fresh minted lamb for Jools.

And back to the hotel and our view over the fells and the golden light of the setting sun.

Bliss.

All things come to an end, and on Tuesday it was time to head back south to Kent. Another farmhouse breakfast set us up for the trip. I had read so much about how wonderful Durham was, we thought we would stop there as we went right past it. What a good decision! It is a magnificent place, with a cathedral and castle on a cliff with the river surrounding them on three sides, and all around cobbled streets and ancient timber-framed houses. More pictures for me, of course, a cup of coffee, and then the rush down south really began so to beat the rush hour around London.

We did it, and were home in time to feed the cats. Jools' niece passed her driving test; so we met up with her and her family for a celebration meal in Boradstairs. It was a wonderful summer's evening, our table rung with laughter and the clinking of glasses.