Walking in Yorkshire - On Target

My wanderings in the hills above Settle were guided by a map I got at the very competent and friendly visitor's centre.  It had lots of route landmarks.  Oh, a few were not ideal.  "Preston's Barn" for instance could have been one of a number of similar looking ramshackle structures.

But one landmark seemed eerily specific.  There was said to be the remains of a rifle range from about 1860.

And indeed, I found it.  Way up beyond any current roads or habitation.

OK, I'll buy that as a target backstop.  The remaining upright is made of heavy gauge steel and frankly looks as if it has been plinked by weapons of higher power than anything legal in the UK these days.  I amused myself wondering if some local had an old Martini and Henry elephant gun.

But the date?   

Oh...

Walking the Yorkshire Hills

I've had a chance to walk various parts of England.  Northumbria, Cotswolds, Cornwall. But the Yorkshire Dales was something new.  Very rugged, large sections that are as lonesome as anything north of "The Wall".  Yet not too far a hike back down to civilization.  

Near town many of the trails start out as bridle paths, which I suspect are mostly used not by horses but by the ATVs of the few farmers working the high fields.

Trails are fairly well marked but not heavily trodden.  And have the usual quaint assortment of stiles, ladders and other climb overs to get from one field to another.

Sometimes you just walk right through the livestock.  Sheep shuffle out of your way in an unconcerned fashion.  Cows, especially young bulls, are very curious about you.  When you turn your back and walk they follow a few paces behind you.  Stop and turn around and they try to pretend that they are not interested.  It seems benign but bothers my wife a great deal.  I do think I'd not prefer to walk with a dog, although we saw many who were doing so.

After hiking upwards for an hour you turn a bend in the path and magnificent vistas unfold.  Looks like Middle Earth.

Having previously routed a walk to look at waterfalls, today I was off to see caves.  The hills above Settle have a number of these, all quite mysterious....

Candor requires that I add a final note.  Having trekked up into the hills, evading slightly menacing bulls and navigating on sketchy directions I was feeling rather pleased with myself.  Then, at the top of a pass, I met a hale elderly chap who stopped to talk a while.  Turns out he grew up in the area, was now 88 years old and had gotten a pacemaker two weeks previously.

I felt a bit less heroic after that....

Robin of Risingham - a Halfling Plumber?

When we have a day off from excavations a merry band of diggers usually sets off in search of obscure Roman remains.  On a sunlit day we stopped off to visit a certain "Robin of Risingham".  This is, or in a sense, was, a figure cut into a stone face.  It used to stand about four feet high and there are sketches of it and of a possible inscription dating back to the days of Gentlemen Antiquarians centuries ago.

Alas, as described in an 1827 edition of "A History of Northumbria", the statue was intentionally chopped off at the waist.  The farmer who owned the land was quite fond of it but his son - who comes across as an unpleasant lout - got tired of people walking across their land to see it and had Robin's upper half cut up into stone gateposts.  Here's Robin today.

Nearby is a modern reconstruction of what he used to look like.  This is half scale, so Robin is a Halfling in more than one sense.  He is suspected of being a British influenced version of Sylvanus, the forest god, but various other interpretations have been put forth.

The first photo I show here is a "before" picture.  Robin had accumulated a pretty good coating of the local moss.  We had a discussion about whether pulling this off versus leaving it on is better for the long term survival of the structure.  Below you can see the decision.

To be honest without the modern reconstruction you could interpret this a couple of ways.  My first thought was that Robin of Risingham was facing backwards here....basically mooning us.  As sometimes happens this led to another discussion.  It seems that one or two individuals on the excavation site could benefit - oh, hell, the entire crew would be the beneficiaries - of longer tailed shirts for bending over while working. I present without further comment a link to a company that might perhaps be contracted to provide special variants for the official excavation T-shirts we all receive on our first day of work......

Packing Light for Digging

When I go overseas on an archaeology jaunt I have my rules.  Carry on bag only.  Bring nothing extra.  I have always considered extra "stuff" when traveling as impedimenta. It's basically like carrying an anchor around.

But how to manage two weeks of grubbing about in mud and dirt, then another week of add on walking holiday.....and fit it all into the over head compartment?

I sometimes cheat a little, leaving digging kit in England with friends.  But I don't like to impose.

I will also on rare occasions shop local thrift stores - called "Charity Shops".  I only do this when the long range weather forecast proves faulty.  

But generally my carry on only digging kit works out just fine.  A few tips.

1. Don't get muddy.  But wait, mud is everywhere on a dig site.  True.  So I wear my rainsuit pants when I am working in waterlogged strata or on any day it might rain.  I favor the Frogg Toggs brand.  They are tough, wind resistant and sometimes I don't need to bring an extra warm layer like fleece.  (Note that in the above picture it was hot and dry.  I just let the Carhartt work pants take their chances.  They are pretty much the same color as the dirt anyway.

2. Minimize the numbers of shoes you bring.  They are difficult to pack and you can only wear one pair at a time anyway.  Lately I have brought these ultra light weight Wellies for actual on site wear.  Also my hiking boots for back and forth to the site.  And I have one pair of shoes for pub wear.

3. Nothing wrong with washing up things in hotel rooms.  I carry along a small supply of laundry soap.  For the benefit of border security staff the bag of white powder is labeled "Laundry Soap".  A gallon zip lock bag, a pinch of soap, agitate a bit...and the place I stay has a drying room with racks and an industrial sized heater/dehumidifier.

4. Leave stuff behind.  Sometimes you acquire things on a trip.  One item into the bag means one item taken out.  Shoddy garments go to the trash.  Last year in Belgium I noticed a collection bin for used clothes.  I donated generously.

5. Repair capacity.  Small sewing kit, partial roll of red duct tape, short length of paracord.

6. Only bring one set of presentable garb.  You wear this on the plane so it almost does not count as packing.  Mostly you'll be hanging out in pubs with other people who appreciate digging about in dirt.  They are tolerant.  But on occasion a nicer bistro or an invite to somebody's domicile could warrant a bit better apparel.

7. Electronic devices are problematic.  Bring as few as you can manage.  Your phone can probably do everything that your laptop, alarm clock, watch, camera could do.  Back up cords and chargers...maybe if electronics are a priority for you.  If not, assume most hostelries have a lost and found full of international converters and phone chargers. 

8. Empty bags of various sizes.  For lunch, dirty laundry etc.  And I always carry a small pocket kit.  Sunscreen (seldom used in Northumbria), assorted emergency medications, an extra bootlace, a lucky coin.

9. I am able to fit everything necessary into one bag.  I am quite fond of the Osprey Porter 46.  It has very comfortable back pack straps that fold in when you don't want them catching on the inside of overhead compartments.  Quite comfortable to carry for miles if necessary.  I understand the newer models have a laptop pouch would would be a nice feature for the small Chromebook I use for travel.

10. And always remember, the ideal pack up has you using each and every item you brought.  On the coldest day you should have on every layer you own and be just warm enough!

A Choice of Doors....

Many of my UK friends are formidable travelers and make it to the US on occasion.  Of course they usually go to the customary destinations, New York, Florida, California. I should think they all manage there quite well.  But on the chance that any of them actually take me up on the offer to visit the rustic provinces here in the Midwest, I have tried to prep them for various local customs that they might otherwise struggle with.  Don't ask the hotel clerk at a sketchy hostelry to "Knock you up in the morning."  Just....don't.

Tavern life is another area where local customs vary.  There are a few bars in walking distance that I might step into and face an awkward moment.  

One odd quirk of rural drinkeries out our way is cutsie names on the bathrooms.  If you have had a libation or two you might stand in temporary bewilderment in front of signs saying "Inboard" and "Outboard", or "Pointer" and "Setter".  Along those lines I was faced the other day with this dilemma....

No, the board promising INFORMATION will not help you.  But this was at the cute little railway station featured on Friday, one that has been restored to retro railfan standards.  The doors for Lamps and Porters do not lead to bathrooms.  (Gents and Ladies are on the other side of the station building).  The room for Porters was where baggage handlers would stay awaiting customers.  The Lamps door leads to a workshop where people filled, trimmed and maintained the oil and paraffin signal lamps of a pre-electricty era.

Just another little view of Settle, where I suppose we are all Setters, other horizontal/vertical orientations notwithstanding. 

Back and Settled

Home after a long stretch of traveling.  After Vindolanda we went down to the Yorkshire Dales to do a few days of walking.  To get there we rode the Settle - Carlisle Railway, one of Britain's most scenic rail journeys.  

Settle is a nice town to set up base in.  It also has provided me with what I expect will be an anniversary picture every year for the foreseeable future...

Yes, my Better Half could probably have done better, glad she just "Settled".

More travel tales in the weeks ahead.

An Eccentric Museum

On our way back from excavating at Vindolanda I proposed a stop to our gracious drivers.  The Museum of Classic Science Fiction in Allendale. 

Allendale is an odd town.  It is a tidy little place full of stone buildings...in the middle of what looks to be barren wastelands.  In times prior there was a lot of mining in the area but this is now gone.  

It is also the home of a little museum that is the brainchild/labor of love of one man, Neil Cole.  

It is not hard to find the museum, parked out front is a rally car with a built in TARDIS.

On a more contentious note, the Dalek in front of the museum has apparently drawn the ire of some elements of the community that find it a bit....incongruous.  Here Mr. Cole holds forth with members of our little band of travelers.  I suggested he consider aiming the Dalek up the road at its main adversary just to see what might happen.

The core of the collection is vintage Dr. Who material but I found the other items more interesting.  An Ape, from the planet of same.  That's the one in back btw.

A Klingon head appliance used in one of the better Star Trek movies.

And speaking of Star Trek, this is part of the "Borg" costume worn by Patrick Stewart in Star Trek Next Generation.  I observed that the  crotch of this costume seemed quite outsized.  Mr. Cole confided that, no offense to Sir Patrick, it is all padding.

There was even a case of costume parts from Alien and from the later and lamentable Prometheus, a movie Mr. Cole, and I, both hold in disappointed disdain.

You learn a lot talking to a True Enthusiast.  I had not for instance known that Peter Jackson is a serious collector of Sci Fi memorabilia. 

I also learned that a regular visitor to the museum is a man called "George the Klingon", who rides the bus up from Newcastle.  In full Klingon regalia naturally.  George is said to be entirely fluent in Klingon.  I neglected to ask if he spoke anything else.  But I should think that if he was a true son of Newcastle and spoke the local "Geordie" dialect that it would take a full Professor of comparative linguistics to tell the difference between that and Klingon.