Day 225 - The search for seafood

See! It's supposed to rain here.

Now I know last week when I wrote my last post (sorry Ange for having you take on most of the writing this past week) I was going on and on about the beautiful sunny weather we had in Liverpool and on our arrival here. Well, it continues today and for the foreseeable future -- which for weather in the UK is about 48 hours at best!. When we planned this trip to the Isle of Skye, the intent was to go to an isolated part of the UK (which it is) where it is beautiful (which it is), and the weather would most likely be wet and therefore force me to stay inside and get some writing done (which it has not).  Seriously, I have put a precipitation map into today's post to show you what I had expected (and you can read more about the normal weather in Ange's post from yesterday). Now I know we are going into summer so perhaps that map is biased by the severe wet winters, but I have also checked with the UK Met Office and this time of year we average about 1 inch of rain per day and we have had only a sprinkle here and that was at 5 a.m. the other day, or so people say because I never saw it. The bottom line is that I have had to write while staring out at sunshine and it's driving me crazy.

Looking out over Broadford Bay

Never mind. At the end of the day, we had been invited by our new friends, Dave and Claire (more on them in tomorrow's post) who are here for the week in the cottage next to us.  They have brought their car and asked if we would join them in search for a seafood meal.  We agreed and the decision was made to go up the road about 16 miles to the north to the village of Broadford, population 620. It sits on Broadford Bay which forms part of the waterway north between the mainland and the Isle of Skye that eventually leads out into the open waters toward the North Atlantic.

The name "Broadford" is derived from Old Norse for the "wide bay" and the village has its roots in local agriculture. It lies in a relatively flatter area of the island and was the site of a cattle market that had its origins in the late 1700s. It's claimed that the Drambuie liqueur as we know it was created in Broadford after Bonnie Prince Charles gave a local innkeeper an earlier recipe for it. The area is also known for the local Skye marble which was quarried nearby and delivered by rail (that no longer exists) to Broadford where it could be shipped by boat. Aside from that, not much more to say about the village, except that it and an adjacent village are the second most populated settlements on the Isle of Skye, next to Portree which has a population of just over 4,000 and is the commercial centre of the island.

We can't take credit for this picture so taken from Google
images...can't you tell? Rain clouds in the distance.

Broadford remains a fishing port and so we thought we could get ourselves a decent seafood meal at one of its restaurants. On the outskirts of the village is the Red Skye and Claire had booked a table. Seafood all around for the four of us with local scallops and fishcakes for starters and Scottish salmon and local mussels for entrees. with the mussels in particular being a big hit!  They come out in large cauldrons (or it sure seemed that way) and were so numerous one couldn't eat them all even though they melted in one's mouth. Our friend Dave was the smart one: he had the starter-sized portion of mussels for his main.

Our seafood appetite satisfied, we headed back to the cottages and a good night's rest with tummy's full.

Ale of the Day: Skye Red, Isle of Skye Brewery, Uig, Isle of Skye

Day 224 - Sun in the land of "365 days of rain"

We have had remarkably glorious weather since we arrived in Scotland. So, I thought I'd tell you what you can expect in weather when you come to visit.

When we mentioned we were going to Scotland for a few weeks, a Scot warned me that it rains 365 day a year there. So far (touch wood), we haven't seen any signs of that where we are. Now, I have been to Scotland on about seven previous occasions, and yes, it has always rained. When I travelled here with my sister, we got great amusement when we discovered that Scottish weather is often described as bright. That means it's cloudy, but the clouds are fairly white. You have to give it to the Scots: that is looking at the weather with a "glass half full" perspective! The car we rented came with windshield wipers that went on automatically when it sensed rain. Since it rains off and on a lot, it can get a bit tedious stopping and starting the wipers, so that was a nice touch. Probably something invited by the Scots, since they did invent everything worth having. 

A recent weather map. Note that Ireland and Scotland have
clear skies.  That big band is usually over them, not the rest
of the UK. The world is officially upside down.

In reality, the best way to prepare for the weather is to prepare for all four seasons in one day. Scottish weather is best described as changeable. Phil and I packed everything from shorts to heavy wool sweaters...because you just never know. 

The western Highlands receive about 3,000 mm of precipitation per year, but the east coast only gets about 800 mm. The winds tend to come from the south west which means the Highlands get the brunt of them on most occasions. 

In northern Scotland, where we are located, the average temperatures in June ranges from a low of 9 degrees C to a high of 17. Since we've been here, the temperatures have the mid 20s every day. The "extreme" average high for June is 27 degrees...so I guess they are considering this a heat wave.

We still have the better part of a week left, and have been  tempted to toss those wool sweaters. But we're not about to do so just yet. In this part of the world, Mother Nature is Scottish and that means she probably has a wicked sense of humour.

Day 223 - Muck'ing about

While climbing to the top of a mountain may be one way to take in the views of Skye and the surrounding islands, particularly with the spectacular weather we've been having, I think the best way to see the grandeur of the place is with a view from the sea. So, today Phil and I decided to take the Small Isle Ferry journey. The actual island destinations vary with the day of the week so that each island can be guaranteed some form of contact with the outside world. Today, the ferry journey went from the town of Mallaig and onto the wonderfully named isles of Muck and Eigg. Including the ferry journey from Skye over to Mallaig, our total travel time would be about a wonderfully relaxing 7 hours.

Leaving Skye from Armadale ferry dock

On our trip across to the "mainland" of Scotland the sun was still low enough to be making the sea sparkle like diamonds. It was a beautiful site to behold, particularly with the haze casting a painter-like glow over the mountains in the background. It was mesmerizing, and soon had me relaxed to the point that I felt I might becoming one with the paint on the rail against which I was leaning.

At Mallaig, we only had to wait a few minutes before our next ferry was ready to board. Not quite sure what to expect in the way of dining options, Phil had jaunted off to the local Co-op shop to buy a couple of sandwiches for our long day out, while I purchased the "non-landing" tickets that would let us stay on board for the ferry's entire day out. As it turned out, the ferry had a really lovely cafe lounge area, where we enjoyed a latte or two during the journey.

As the MV Lock Nevis prepared to leave port, the captain announced over the PA system that we had a glorious day of sailing ahead of us. It was nice to hear that even he was excited at the spell of sunny weather they have been having in this part of Scotland.

Interestingly, our journey took us past Eigg and then into the small harbour at Muck, where a large number of the people on the ferry disembarked. The island had a population of 27 in the 2011 census, and I think far more people got off than live there. The island is owned entirely by one family. Most people live near the Port Mòr harbour, while the only other settlement is 2.5 kms away and is a farm.

Muck is  known for its seal population, and for the porpoises in the surrounding waters. In fact, it is an old word for porpoises -- mereswine -- from which it is thought the island gets its name, with the  Gaelic word  for swine being Mouach.

The harbour at Port Mor, Muck

True to it's name, we saw a pod of porpoises (or perhaps dolphins, given the beak that appears in my rather quick photograph) as we made the next leg of our journey back to Eigg. They were racing beside the ferry jumping in and out of the water. We also saw several seals and caught quick glimpses of a couple of whales, but they gave the ferry a wide berth.

Eigg (prounced with a long 'a' sound) is about five miles long by three miles wide, with a population of about 100 people. It's owned by the Isle of Eigg Heritage Trust, a community group that bought it in 1997. The Trust includes several subsidiaries. One is Eigg Electric, which provides the island with electricity from renewables -- and we did spot an unobtrusive wind farm on the island.

The island gets its name from Eag, an Old Norse word meaning notch or wedge. It refers to the distinctive shape of the Sgurr that dominates the landscape. The Sgurr was actually born 58 millions years ago when a volcano formed on the neighbouring island of Rum. The pitchstone lava flowed into a river bed through a basaltic plateau that existed at the time. The basalt eroded faster than the pitchstone, and then the glaciers came to carve out the magnificent formation. (And I trust my geologist husband will be okay with me taking the liberty of writing that last bit!)

The Isle of Eigg with Rum's beautiful silhouette in the background.

As we passed the south coast of the island, we noted several cave entrances. One has a rather brutal tale associated with it. In 1577, the Clan Ranald hosted a group of MacLeods who became over-amorous with the local women. In response, the Ranalds rounded up the MacLeods, and set them adrift in the sea. In revenge, the MacLeods decided to attack. Spotting them coming, all but one of the 400 islanders hid in a cave that had a small entrance hidden by moss and a waterfall. After several days of searching, the MacLeods were about to leave when they spotting someone leaving the cave. They followed, redirected the waterfalls and started a fire at the cave's entrance. All 400 were trapped by the smoke and died.

Many of the bones in the cave were stolen over the years by souvenir hunters until the local had them buried in the island cemetery. So, over time, it became unsure if the Massacre at Eigg was just a tale. However, bones were found in the cave in 2017 and were dated back to the time the killings were thought to have occurred.

The island has a long history that reads like a Game of Thrones script, but I will leave that for you to discover.

As we left Eigg, a female piper began to play at the end of the pier. Perfect!

It's been so unusually sunny and warm in Scotland, even the cattle decided to
spend the day at the beach.

From Eigg we travelled back to Muck to pick up the day tourists and a utility van that had been on the island to do repairs. Then it was the lovely journey back to Mallaig and home to our cottage in Ardvasar.

Day 222 - What's in a name?

We've come to Scotland to relax, catch up on writing, watch the sky change colours from the patio. We'll see how long we last before we have "itchy feet" and need to explore over the next hill. So today, was about that. We didn't venture too far from the cottage, other than to explore the local village area.

It's a good time to review my Scottish roots -- and the reasons I and my kids have curly hair!

My grandmother, Mary Ann Bowman HILL Smith Drysdale, (my Dad's mother) was born in Scotland in an area in the Lowlands called Wigtonshire. Today would have been her 110th birthday, which no longer seems like such an old age to live to. She lived into her 93rd year, so to me it seems like only a few years ago since she left us. It seems fitting that we're here on this particular occasion.

That's not to say she held any real affinity to the place. She left when she was about 5 years old, and from her accounts to me, never had an urge to visit. She also thought the Royal Family was a huge waste of time.

I've been slowly tracing my family history over the past few years, and have had a bit of time in the last couple of weeks to dig deeper into my Scottish roots. My Grandmother's maiden name was Hill. Her father was born in the village of Stoneykirk which lies on the bay of Luce near the Irish Channel. That's a fitting place, since his father was born in Ireland ... and thus abruptly ends my Scottish roots through that line.

However, my Grandmother bore the name Bowman as a middle name. It was her mother's maiden name. The tradition of using family surnames as middle names was quite common in Scotland, and in fact, until the 20th Century, women kept their maiden names upon marriage. The Scots also typically used a system of naming their children after relatives in a specific order. This makes geneology so much easier. Interestingly, both of my children have my surname as a middle name and I kept my name...so perhaps my Scottish roots run deeper than I thought!

I have been able to continue the search through my great-great-grandmother's line, getting back to two sets of sixth-great grandparents.

I see my grandmother in me and in my sister and my own children. She had a sarcastic wit and a sense of herself. We had a great relationship, and I spent hours at her place in Hamilton, particularly when I was at McMaster just down the road. We talked about everything, and shared an affinity for walking (she never drove), and eating a full breakfast at a local diner and Chinese food wherever we could get it. I miss her.

My daughter Rebecca was given my grandmother's name as a middle name. It was a conscious decision to honour her, but it is only through my recent ancestry searches that I have realized that the name Mary was passed down to the first-born daughter through the generations as far as I have found. I'm so glad I continued the tradition.

It's quite the heady thing to be in this place now that seems to drip with ghosts of the past and watch as your family tree unfolds into a mass of names, places, occupations, marriages, baptisms, and the like. The continuation of life unfolds around you, as steady as the sun rising again each day. It makes you understand how you are so much a part of the past and that you will continue to be part of the future.

Day 221 - The spiritual home of the Clan Donald

Hard at work, deplorable conditions....

Like a broken record...this morning we awoke to nothing but blue sky and a forecast of 22 degrees C. Our first morning in our cottage on the Isle of Skye and some work to catch up on!  The view is pretty spectacular (we have to work hard to walk up to it mind you) from the cottage's patio. I keep thinking I am looking out over the Baja of Mexico. 

Today is Sunday and we had seen on the walk up last night a sign that promoted a fete at the local castle ruin, Armadale Castle. So after getting some work done, we set off down the hill and along the coastal road towards the castle.  It is not so much a castle than a large manor house, and while it is a ruin, the surrounding park land is maintained with gardens, playgrounds, a restaurant in a newer replacement house, and a museum.

The local village fete

The fete was likely on because this was a bank holiday weekend, and the grounds in front of the castle was filled with tents selling crafts and candy, ice cream, and bbq burgers, as well as a tombola (game of chance in which you can win small prizes). There were all kinds of activities and games and once again we were able to experience the local community vibe as we did when we were in Cawsand/Kingsand at the other end of the U.K. Heck, they even set up a makeshift pub, although I am proud to say that I avoided the temptation.

Back of the castle

The Armadale Castle is said to be the spiritual hom of the Clan Donald. Now there is not enough space to describe how the clan system works, so suffice it to say that there are a gazillion names that are associated with the clan, including the obvious MacDonald, MacDonell, McDonald etc. etc.  The Clan Donald were Lords of the Islands (including Skye) beginning in the 13th century through to about the 1490s. This part of Scotland had been once part of the Kingdom of Norway having been settled by the Vikings as well as the Scots (who had descended from the Picts and the Irish).

A look past the centre staircase
into the gardens beyond

The Norwegian king was defeated by the Scottish King Alexander III in 1263 and from that point on the Clan Donald served the Scottish kings, although in the 1400s the clan chose to oppose King James I and the royalist army only to end up having to surrender and forfeit much of what they owned. 

The clan continued its own internal battles among them about supporting the Kings of Scotland and some actually aligned themselves with the English kings in order to secure power for themselves in this region. The Clan MacDonald were associated with Armadale Castle, which was one of a number of castles they owned. During the Jacobite Uprising they supported the House of Stuart against the English, but eventually the MacDonalds of this area of Skye ended up supporting the English crown and as a result maintained their holdings in this part of Scotland.

A house existed on the site of the castle from the late 1700s, but it was in 1815 that the much larger extension was added to give it it's grandeur. It's claimed that shoddy construction and fires led to it being abandoned by the MacDonald family in the 1920s, but I wonder if it, too, was a case of estate taxes taking their toll. Ironically, the oldest part of the castle is still maintained as a residence, or so it looked. 

The property is now part of a trust, set up in the 1970s to preserve what is left, including some magnificent gardens and the Museum of the Islands. The admission fee to the grounds that day for the fete included a visit to the museum, which was excellent for such a remote area of Scotland.  It is housed in a relatively new building and provides some very interesting history of the western isles of Scotland, including a number of ancient artifacts to view.

Museum of the Islands

What turned out to be a quick jaunt to take in some local culture turned out to be a longer, but fascinating, immersion into the local history and culture.

Ale of the Day: Caledonia Outpost IPA, Tennent Caledonian Brewery, Glasgow

Day 220 - Taking one of the world's best train Journeys

I've said it before: I could live on a train. The idea of waking up every morning and being somewhere different while still surrounded by the comforts of a home base appeals to me immensely. Of course, I would need my own train car.

So, you could imagine my excitement when today we were taking what is considered one of the top 10 train journeys in the world: the West Highland Line between urban Glasgow, crossing Rannock Moor and up through to Mallaig in the remote and wild western Highlands of Scotland. In fact in some polls it has been named the number one train route in the world. You know it from Harry Potter -- where the Hogwart's Express goes over the large train trestle.

We were not long out of Glasgow, travelling along the edge of the River Clyde, when the urban landscape changed to rolling foothills and lochs. At Helensburgh we met the mouth of our first loch, Gare Loch, which faces out onto the Firth of Clyde. The city is also on the western end of what is known as the Highland Boundary Fault. Hills north are in the Highlands, while the land south is the Lowlands. The fault isn't considered active, but minor earthquakes are still felt from time to time. 

The next stop on the line is the aptly named Garelochhead, which is, as I'm sure you've guessed, located at the other end of Gare Loch. It is here that the West Highland Line is said to officially start. A bend in the track and we were traversing the edge of Loch Long, stopping at Arrochar & Tarbet station, which looks like a station one would expect in a mountain region, with passing loops for the single track line, and sidings used by the forestry industry up to about 10 years ago. For centuries, this area was the home of the Clan MacFarlane.

To enable safe passage along the single track line, a token system was devised. In some cases, a physical token had to be acquired by the train driver to know that the line was free to use. The West Highland Line now uses a Radio Electronic Token Box (RETB), basically a dedicated radio network transmits  verbal communications and electronic messages between a control centre and the trains. In RETB, the token is an electronic message displayed inside the driving cab as opposed to the physical object used with traditional single-line token systems.

Another bend in the tracks, and we were skirting the largely forested edge of Loch Lomond, our first freshwater loch on this trip, and which gained fame from the song, "The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond."  Located near here is Ben Lomond, the most southerly of the the Scottish "Munros" -- the name given to a Scottish mountain that is over 3,000 feet. Next stop: Ardlui at the head of Loch Lomond.

From here the train line clings to the edge of the hills, passing through the valley of the River Falloch, and winding around the top of Falloch Falls, until it reaches the town of Crainlarach. If you're travelling either north/south or east/west you will probably pass through Crainlarach -- and that's been the case since Medieval times. Sitting amid several Munros, it is a favourite stop for hill walkers.

Our 6-car train divided here, with two cars heading westward to Oban while we continued the journey northwest toward Mallaig. A few kilometres along we made a stop at the small station of Upper Tyndrum. This spot actually has two station: the one we stopped at to serve Mallaig and another -- Lower Tyndrum -- to serve the train heading to Oban. This makes it hold the title of being the smallest settlement in the UK with two stations. Interestingly, if you walk, the stations are only a few hundred yards apart, yet you would have to travel 10 miles by rail to get from one to the other! That all has to do with the geography of the glens through which the lines pass that allows for the gentle change in elevation needed by the trains for their onward journey. It's also interesting to note that Tynburn is where a great battle occurred in 1306 in which the Clan MacDougall defeated Robert the Bruce.

The train ascended slowly, winding through the glen before arriving at the beautifully named Bridge of Orchy which is at the edge of the Rannoch Moor. While there are a few houses around, the only people getting on and off the train were hikers. The village dates from the 1700s when the Jacobite uprising caused the government to attempt to build roads and bridges across the Highlands to make them more accessible for troops. Before this, most people lived near the coasts or along rivers, and the only routes through the Highlands were for moving cattle to markets. 

Rannoch Moor is a boggy grassland area in the midst of mountains. I watched a television show a few weeks ago about how difficult it was to build the West Highland Line and in particular the challenge the moors posed. But the Victorians were nothing if not resourceful, and the add the Scottish devotion to all things engineering, and this was a problem to be surmounted. They came upon the solution of laying down a bed of branches, ash, earth and stone atop the bog, and the result was a solid foundation that could hold the weight of the train. But despite this, the train does slow in this area, coming down to a speed of about 25mph -- and even lower if the weather is bad.

It is Rannoch Moor that is used in a scene in Harry Potter where a Death Eater stands between the rails to bring the Hogwarts Express to a stop for the train to be inspected. Eerie.

The moor ended as we reach Rannoch station. I don't think there was anyone living here, but I could be wrong. It seemed a place designed just for walking. But ever civilized, there is a tea room on the platform.

A few miles along is Corrour, one of the most remote stations in the UK and is its highest mainline station at 1,340 feet. There are no public roads here; just the station. The nearest road is 10 miles away and a mile hike will get you to a hostel. It was originally built to be a signal station and passing point along the single line track, with a signalman living on site. I am sure it can be a lonely, desolate place and more than a few people may have found themselves lost trying to get to the hostel on a dark and foggy night.

The next station, Tulloch, appeared equally desolate, but we began to see more signs of life at Roy Bridge. Here the Roy River meets the Spean River. It's claim to fame, other than being in the beautiful Highlands, is that the parents of Australia's only patron saint, Mary MacKillop, was from here. Somewhat obviously, the next station stop is Spean Bridge. It is here that the first engagement of the Jacobite Rising occurred in 1745.

We next pulled into Fort William and then reversed out along another line. Fort William lies near the top of Loch Linnhe and is the largest "town" in the Highlands with a population just over 10,000 people. The city of Inverness is to the north east about 100 km, with a population of about 60,000. Tourists flock to Fort William to visit the nearby Glen Coe (the film location for Monty Python and the Holy Grail's "Bridge of Death" and "Gorge of Eternal Peril" and for the James Bond movie Skyfall). It is also near Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the British Isles at 1,345 metres (4,411 ft) and with a summit that is an ancient collapsed volcano. About 125,000 people try to "bag" this Munro every year, with most climbing via a pony track up one side.

From this point on the route becomes a bit of a local "commuter" run, with stops every few minutes at Banavie (possibly the birthplace of St. Patrick), Corpach (the name based on the Gaelic for "field of corpses as it is thought that clan chieftains were "rested" here on their way to being buried on the island of Iona), Loch Eli (where there is an Outward Bound site), and Locheilside (a request stop).

But the most exciting part of the trip was now about to happen: crossing the Glenfinnan viaduct. This beautiful bridge curves for 792 feet over 21 spans 100 feet above the River Finnan. It is made entirely of concrete without any metal reinforcements. Needless to say, you travel slowly over the viaduct, but the resulting views down Loch Shiel are breathtaking. If you've seen the Harry Potter movies you will recognize the viaduct in the scenes of the Hogwart's Express on its way through Scotland.

Continuing to wind through the glens and around mountains we made stops at Lochailort (a location for one of Phil's favourite films, Local Hero), Beasdale (many serving local children who go to high school in Fort William) and Arisaig (from where much of the local population emigrated to Canada,  and founded Arisaig, Nova Scotia in 1785).

About five hours after leaving Glasgow, we arrived in Mallaig, and from here bought a few groceries at the local Co-op store before taking a car ferry across to Armadale on the Isle of Skye. It was then about a mile to our cottage in the village of Ardvasar -- uphill, of course, with the last third of a mile feeling like it was at a 45 degree angle! But well worth the views from the top.

The wonderful thing: we get to do the whole trip again on our return. We can only hope that the day will be as gloriously sunny. But even if it's not, passing through these places in snow or rain would be equally magical.

Day 219 - The Beatles Experience

The "new" Cavern Club

We couldn't go to Liverpool without immersing ourselves in all things Beatles. We had taken a walk to find The Cavern Club, the small, cramped basement venue where the Beatles played in their early years. The original site of the club was lost in 1973 when the area was deemed to be needed for construction of a Merseyrail loop. In the end, the loop wasn't built, but the building had already been demolished. It's now the basement and car park of a more modern building above. However, the club has been recreated on the other side of the road using bricks from the original. Carved into the bricks are the names of acts who have played the Club. A club with the same name has live acts playing all day and night just a few doors down from the original site. The area around the club has been Disneyfied for the tourists, with shops, hotels and restaurants with names such as Rubber Soul, The Hard Days Night Hotel, and Lennon's Bar.

A few names of some of the acts that have played The Cavern Club.

The Beatles casually watching to
catch a ferry cross the Mersey.

Near the Mersey Ferry Terminal are larger-than-life statues of the Fab Four looking as if they are about to get on the ferry. It is a relatively recent addition, being unveiled in 2015 to mark the 50th anniversary of the last time The Beatles played in Liverpool.

Recreation of The Beatles kit in
The Cavern Club.

We spend a wonderful couple of hours in The Beatles Story museum. Located in a lower level of one of the buildings at Albert Dock, it is filled with memorabilia and details of the lives of The Beatles and those around them, with a particular focus on their early years. We were impressed with the amount there was to read and see. Will spare you the details, but if you are ever in Liverpool, it is certainly worth a visit.

These suits are recreations of the ones
used on the cover of Sargeant Pepper.
Note the OPP page; permission was needed
from the OPP to add the badge.

John Lennon stands forever
near The Cavern Club.

Day 218 - Hello Son; it's your Dad.

Heaton Manor High Street

Today's post is a very personal one. For those who have known me over the years, you will know that my father left us when we were kids and, aside from a chance meeting at my mother's place many years later when I was in my 30s, we never saw him again. The title of today's post will only have meaning for a handful of people so my apologies for the use of an inside joke. Regardless of the sins of the father, I did want to take some time while we were in the U.K. to visit the ancestral Walsh home in Stockport, about an hour by train east of Liverpool.

St. Paul's

The Walsh family has its origins in Ireland (the name is the fourth most common after Murphy, Kelly and O'Sullivan) where, thanks to Angela's research, we found that they emigrated to the Stockport area from County Mayo during the Great Potato Famine of the mid-19th century.  At that time the Industrial Revolution had reached its peak and textile mills and related work were everywhere in this part of the U.K.  So, with another sunny day ahead of us, Angela and I set out with the aid of her research results to find the actual addresses where the Walsh's settled.

The Curtis House (white house far right) where
my great grandfather, John, first lived with my great
grandmother, Laura Kate Curtis Walsh.

My great great grandfather, Michael Walsh, was the one who came over to Stockport and their house was on Water St. in the north end, right across the street from the Meadow Mill.  Today the site is a Tesco parking lot so there was no house to see, but I can guess that it was likely worker's housing for the mill.  The mill still exists and resembles most of the mills in the area.

One of the mills in
Heaton Chapel today

His son, my great grandfather, was John Walsh and he lived initially with my great grandmother Laura (nee Curtis) in her parent's house on Derby Range in the northern Stockport area known as Heaton Manor. The area is quite nice with lots of trees and quaint shops and cafes. Angela and I visited the nearby Parish Church, St. Paul's, where my great Aunt Bessie Curtis was married. Around that time my other great aunt, Dora Curtis, was born, although one suspects if in fact she might have been the daughter of one of the older Curtis girls, perhaps Bessie -- oh if the walls had ears.  In any case, Dora was the first relative on my father's side that I remember meeting, as we would visit her house (and chicken coops) in the countryside around Windsor, Connecticut where she had followed her American husband Oscar Johnson (perhaps a doughboy) immediately after the First World War. I can remember her writing us all the time when we were children and sending us an American five dollar bill on our birthdays.

The birthplace of my father

Eventually John and Laura moved into a neighbouring area known as Heaton Chapel where their son, my grandfather Richard and the source of my middle name, lived and where in that house my father, an only child, was born.

My grandfather was a telegraph operator for the Post Office and eventually he and my grandmother, Elsie (nee Edwards) moved to a more affluent area of Heaton Chapel where they lived until they died. I would eventually meet by grandfather, Richard, shortly after meeting great Aunt Dora, when he visited us in Canada prior to his death in 1969.

Until now, I have had no reason to visit this area and even though my relationship with my father was non-existent, it was fascinating to see what the area looked like and to imagine my ancestors working in the mills and drinking in the local pubs that still exist today.

 Ale of the Day: Crown Best Bitter, Stockport Brewing Company,  Stockport, Lancashire

Day 217 - Liverpool walkabout

If you google "Liverpool," what you will get is not information about the city, but rather the football club. That tells you a lot. Of course, Liverpool F.C. did just lose to Real Madrid in the Champion League final, so that could be pulling it up in the google search algorithm, but I doubt it.

The city proper is home to about half a million Liverpudlians, but the general areas has about 2 million people. It is more than 800 years old, but its real growth as a port can be attributed to the Industrial Revolution. There are an amazing number of beautiful buildings, despite attempts by the Germans to bomb the hell out of in during, with most dating from the late 18th century. Many of them are the result of money earned from handling cargo such as coal, cotton and sugar. Sadly, the city's merchants were involvled heavily in the slave trade, and the city was even described as "the most Confederate place outside of America" during the American Civil War.

It is one of the great port cities, and was home to both Cunard and the White Star Line. It is from here that many Irish and English emigrated to North America. About 1.3 million Irish came through Liverpool during the potato famine in the 1800s, with many staying. Many stayed in Liverpool, and the Irish influence can be seen across the city.

Phil gets inspired by book titles in front of the Central Library.

Today, Phil and I took a walk around the city to see some of the highlights. We started in the area of the Central Library. The professor then had us walking through the area of the university first (no surprise there). The University of Liverpool covers about 100 acres in the city, and is one of what is known as the "first six red-brick civic" universities. It is ranked in the top 1% of universities world wide, and was the first to establish departments in oceanography, civic design, architecture, and biochemistry.

One of the buildings that make up
Liverpool University.

From here we walked to the Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King. This is the largest Catholic cathedral in Britain, and its design has been fraught with controversy. In the mid 1800s, the first attempt to build a cathedral began, and was designed in the Gothic style. Just the Lady Chapel alone took over 60 years to build, and building ceased until more money could be raised. Meanwhile, in the early 1900s the Anglicans had begun building their won massive cathedral a few blocks away. A new design was created for a massive domed Catholic cathedral, and work started on the crypts to support the building. But the war brought devastation to the city, and funding dried up for the cathedral. Interestingly, it was the brother of the architect of the Anglican cathedral who was brought in to downsize the design to something more manageable. By the 1960s, more scaling down was needed to reduce costs and the design was open to a competition. As it was the 1960s, you can imaging the design choices! The resulting design had to be built on the crypt, and was built for 1 million GBP. It was built with an aluminium roof  and concrete sides, very Brutalist in design. City residents were split on whether they liked it, and as a result is has several nicknames, including "Paddy's Wigwam," "The Pope's Launching Pad" and "The Mersey Funnel."

The crypt from the original design of Liverpool's Catholic cathedral, with
revised aluminium dome.

From near the centre of the \
Anglican cathedral. Note the
interior bridge with people on it
to get a sense of the scale.

From here we walked to the Anglican Cathedral. When standing inside, it is difficult to believe that this church was only completed in 1974. It looks as if it has stood here for centuries. Building started in the early 1900s and slowed during both wars. It sustain bomb damage during WWII, which wasn't fixed until the 1950s. It battles with St John the Devine in New York City (which isn't complete) as being the largest Anglican church in the world.

From here we walked to through the Chinatown. Despite the rather large and ornate gateway, it was very small and almost devoid of people.

Gateway to Liverpool's Chinatown.

We then headed to the docks for lunch, an area which Phil will advise you of in another blog post.

Day 216 - Arriving in Liverpool and the Albert Docks

People they rush everywhere
Each with their own secret care
So ferry 'cross the Mersey
And always take me there
The place I love

The area around our hotel in Liverpool

Ok, someone really needs to pinch me. We woke up at our hotel in Farnham this morning to absolutely brilliant sunshine making it pretty much a month so far of nice weather -- I am actually hoping to get some rainy weather so that I really know I am in the U.K. When the month of May is done, I am going to check out the month's weather versus previous years' as this has got to be an anomaly.

Well, I shouldn't complain as the next few days we are going to visit Liverpool (one day is set aside for a one-hour train trip to my ancestral home on my father's side) and the forecast is for more of the same. Angela and I have never been to Liverpool in all the times we have traveled here. Our destination today is a hint regarding the title of the song that the lyrics above are from -- I had been negligent in maintaining my "name that tune" element of our blog.

Albert Dock

Our trip today took us first to London Euston Station so that we could catch our direct train to Liverpool Lime Street station, the city's main train station. When you arrive, you realize that the station is a terminus and the tracks do not run through it. Instead, trains going in all directions simply arrive here and then pull back out to go off to their next destination.

Our hotel, the Nadler Liverpool, is located within a 10-minute walk of the station and takes one into the former warehousing district of the city. There are still a few downtrodden buildings that are currently ready for renovation, but for the most part the area has been re-done and there are a lot of hotels (like ours), restaurants, bars and clubs that now occupy the old warehouses.

At the west end of the docks you come to what is referred to as the "Three Graces."  They are three buildings, of which one is the iconic Royal Liver Building with its two clock towers topped by weathered green copper dragons. Any picture of the Liverpool waterfront is bound to have this building front and center.  The other two buildings are the Cunard building and the Port Authority building.

Staring out onto the Mersey

Royal Liver Building 

We arrived late in the afternoon but with plenty of time to take a trip down to the Mersey shore and a walk around the Albert Dock, a group of renovated dock buildings that were built in the mid-1800s, and the first in Great Britain to not contain any wood in their construction. The docks surrounding the buildings were also the first location of the hydraulic crane to assist in unloading the ships directly into the warehouse sections, another new innovation. The docks were a commercial success until the second world war when they were damaged by Luftwaffe bombers. After the war, the owners could not raise the funding to completely repair the damage and the area began a slow descent into total disuse. By the 1970s, plans were being made to redevelop the entire dock area and in 1988 work was completed. It is now arguably one of the premier tourist areas of the city with museums, restaurants and shops. In fact, tonight we dined at the Old Spice, an Indian restaurant that satisfied our urge for a curry!

Ale of the Day:  Penny Lane Pale Ale, Mad Hatter Brewery, Liverpool