Roman Baths

                                 Still Working

     The city of Bath, England exists because of water. The city developed around the only hot springs in the country. The springs come from 10,000-feet below the ground and surface in several places. The springs located near the ancient Roman Road were discovered by the Romans in the first century. They established a town they called Aguae Sulis and drained the swampland  created by 125,000 gallons of water that bubbled up out of the ground each day.

     They built a temple to the goddess Minerva  and a sophisticated network of baths making full use of the mineral springs. Romans occupied the  area for 360 years, but in 410 suddenly abandoned it. As years passed water again overtook the area.

     The legend says that a Celtic chief with leprosy was forced to leave his people. During his travels he happened upon the hot springs. After bathing in them for some period of time he was cured and eventually returned to his people. He had a difficult time convincing his people who he really was.. When he did succeed he moved his people to the springs.

     In the 900s monks established the Bath Abbey. In the 1200s the City of Bath was built over the unknown  ruins of the  ancient Roman city, and the ancient ruins were not re-discovered until the 1800s.

    The old Roman lead lined pool is 5-feet deep and still water tight!  The original Roman drains, still in use,  drain excess water and carry it to the River Avon. However, no one uses the baths today, but the well-kept ruins are quite an attraction to visitors to the city.

    The water looked a bit murky and algae could be seen around the edges of the rocks. The lovely statuary around the pool was a delight. It was awesome to visit something so old and the inner workings were interesting.  Uneven footing  in places required a bit of caution when walking, but the baths were in remarkable condition after so many centuries!

Fence Climbing

                                              Who Would Ever Guess

     I quickly learned England,s Lake District was quite hilly and that the small mountains were called fells. The sometimes badly eroded paths wove up and down everywhere we hiked. English National Parks are very different from our National Parks in the U.S. In England many people live in the parks and farm their plots. However, the right of way laws prohibit them from secluding the public to trespass their lands. It was not unusual for us to find a sign  reminding us to shut the gate, or to head us in the right direct: as in follow to the beck. (Small stream.)

     I walked through many sheep pastures with sheep most of the time ignoring our presence. Sometimes we entered a pasture through a gate in a fence. Many of the gates were kissing gates which have two sections and two gates to them. You can only enter one section at a time and shut that gate before proceeding through the second gate. These gates are very effective as the gate really can’t be left open.

    I climbed over more than one fence in the several days of hiking while in England.  Most times there was a step, frequently a large rock or  log, to make it easier to swing a leg over the fence. Most of these fences were about four-feet high. I had not climbed a fence since I was a child ---at least 50years ago—so this was a bit  of a surprise, but one I conquered easily.

     The cantilever stone walls took a bit of concentration until I mastered the climbing technique, Stones protrude on each side of the wall providing a foothold as one progresses up the wall. At the top is a space between two rocks wide enough for one foot, so one  can swing around and step down on the protruding rocks on the other side.

     The combination of climbing fences and the constant undulations made hiking through the English Lake District a bit more than a stroll, more what Americans consider a hike, but less than a trek. But the lakes, lovely scenery and views from up high were wonderful. Walking through the bracken, a fern-like plant, was pleasant. At times the plant grew 3-4 feet tall, so all one could see  of the hiker  in front was his upper torso. Bracken is an aggressive plant and is threatening sheep pastures in some areas.

     Our lead hiking guide was a sweetheart with a great since of humor. He enhanced this wonderful interesting trip.

OUR OWN DAY

                                    Scraping the Itinerary

       England was coping with a big epidemic of hoof and mouth disease so many people had cancelled their trip. However, it did not hamper our trip in any way and I was glad I stuck with my plans.

     One day in Cornwall, England the ten of us all found the day’s itinerary  unappealing. At breakfast as a group we decided that we wanted to scrap the original plans and do something else. I was sort of elected spokesman of the group and our decision  stymied our guide. However, she was a trooper and turned the day into a marvelous one for us.

     We started the day by hiking down a lovely deserted lane. The narrow paved road was covered with a natural canopy of natural trees and vines that had reached across the road and tangled into a wonderful cover. A footpath at the end of the road led us to a deserted sandy beach. Another footpath brought us to a quaint village where the houses were topped with picturesque thatched roofs.

     Both paths ambled through areas of lush vegetation where many wildflowers were in bloom. But at the village we found the next footpath closed because of the cow epidemic.  The guide used her cell phone to call the van driver to come pick us up.

     Looking at a map, the driver discovered we were not far from a seal sanctuary. There I saw several species of seals I had never seen before. Often babies would be bashed against the rocks in the rough waters, so the sanctuary often has nearly a full house.

      Laughingly I often ask people if they know anyone who has ever been to Qweek, England. Following narrow lanes just wide enough for one vehicle brought us to the village and its single pub where we enjoyed a delicious lunch. It’s a typically  quaint small English village.

     Early afternoon found us wandering around a century-old garden. This garden was a very natural one, not manicured as are many English gardens. I walked the many paths enjoying the garden’s varied and lovely foliage and flowers. At the end of one path near the ocean cliff was a memorial plaque to the WW II soldiers who had gone to the battlefield from that point.

      I paused to sit on many of the benches scattered around the garden to thoroughly enjoy the peace and quiet of the lovely old garden.

      It turned out to be an interesting full day on a beautiful day with many unexpected surprises. Ah the advantage of small groups!

CORNWALL TIN MINE

                                          A Claustrophobic Mine

      Once Cornwall, England was the tin center of Europe when tin mining was the lifeblood of the small communities in the area. The landscape is dotted with stacks of the old mines.

     As claustrophobic as I am, my children can’t believe that I actually went underground to visit the Geevor Tin Mine. In 1911 Geevor opened an old mine; the Victory shaft was sunk in 1919 and extended 1575 feet into the ground. In 1965 three mines combined for a total of two square miles. In 1975-80 a 1:4 gradient shaft was added under the ocean. Only ten percent of the rock mined is turned into tin ore. It takes 24-30 hours to get the rock ready for the smelters. Iron, copper and arsenic are also found in the rock.

     In 1985 the price of tin dropped 60% overnight. The Geevor mine,  containing 160 miles of tunnel, continued to operate five years longer but closed in 1990. At that time it employed 370 men, 130 of whom worked  underground.. All the workers lived within a 7-10 mile radius of the mine, but after the mine’s closing many of the men moved overseas to work in mines elsewhere.

     Mining was men’s work, No women were allowed in the mines. Years ago boys as young as 8-years old were sent into the mines. Many mines were a family enterprise.  Totally dark in the mines, candles provided the only light, Each miner supplied all his own equipment and tools. He was paid for what he produced; there were no hourly wages or any sick time. Miners often stayed in the mine 10-12 hours in cramped positions—from dawn to nightfall. They suffered poor eyesight and had a life-span of only 40 years.  Many died of tuberculosis. Mining was rock, darkness, and water. It was one very hard life!

     In 1991 they started flooding the under-ocean mine. It took 3 ½ years to bring the water to sea level. In 1993 part of the mine opened as a museum.

    This was neither my first nor last mine or cave adventure, but it was perhaps the darkest. For this trek we all put on hard hats and mid-calf length smocks before entering the mine. The narrow pathway necessitated single file with each of us holding onto the waist of the person in front of  us as we wove our way through the tunnel. Bumping heads and elbows happened often!  The guide in front had the only flashlight (torch in England). I did a lot of silent self-talk to remain calm during this experience. I was one happy camper to see daylight!         

ENGLAND'S WHITE HORSES

                                                  Old Hillside Art

      During visits to England I learned about and saw several large white horses carved into hillsides.  A school teacher carved the first horse in 1856 in southern England.  Such carvings are quite common throughout  the countryside.  Because the soil is chalky and relatively soft in southern England, many horses can be found in this area. There are 16-17 hillside carved horses around the country.

     On the way to Bath, just before leaving the chalk region and shortly before arriving in Bath, the guide called our attention to a horse carving, saying, “This horse is over 80-feet long and is known as the Westbury horse.  About 200 years ago the horse was recarved and enlarged, but the sad thing is it encompassed a horse carving that was 1000-years old, and the original carving is now lost forever.”

     One exception to the chalk horses is the 1857 Kilburn white horse. The huge horse located in the North York Moors National Park in Yorkshire  measures 206-feet by 320-feet long. It is said to be the largest and northern most of England’s horses.  A steeply graded road leads to a car park and a foot path that leads one along the cliff over the horse.

     During WW II the horse was covered to avoid it being a target for enemy bombers.  It is carved out of granite and periodically has to be painted white by men hanging over the cliff by rope and using paint rollers.  (I’m not sure if this is a folk-tale or not.) Apparently  there are some chalk chips imbedded in the horse.

    However, I mused that it must be quite a sight to see grown men hanging over a cliff painting the hillside.

UNEXPECTED STRIPTEASE

                                        A Secret Striptease

     When I arrived in Yorkshire, England the weather had turned considerably cooler, so for the first hike up the moors I decided to wear my silk long johns under my light weight slacks.

     Because of the literary history and fame of the area I was excited and was hoping to see some heather on my first moor hike. It was over 1000-feet straight up to the top of the moor.  However we zig zagged over a switchback path through pastureland and open fields during the 2-3 hour climb. The rather cool wind made me realize I’d made the right wardrobe choice in the early morning.

     At the top the wind was so strong that I thought it might actually blow over one little lady in the group. But on the other side of the moor it was much warmer and practically windless on the sunny day, so that is where we sat to eat our lunch. After lunch our guides tried to teach us some sort of a ball game popular in England.

     The hike down the moor was over a relatively smooth ‘farm road’ with a gentle decline.  Later the guide told us that most groups are taken up over the road, but they thought we were fit enough for the more rugged climb through the pastures. None of us complained!

     With the wind gone and the sun high in the cloudless sky I began to get warm and started thinking about how I was going to get those long johns off.  About half way down we stopped to visit an ancient church.  I entertained  removing those  silkies in the  crypt, but on second thought maybe not. Back up from the crypt and outside I decided the cemetery was the perfect place for a striptease!

     Sitting on a large tombstone just off the main walkway I slipped off one boot and quickly removed my leg from both  the silky and trouser leg, shoved my leg back in the trouser leg and my  foot into my boot. Then I repeated that process with the other leg. Quickly I balled up  the long johns and shoved them in my pocket,  retied my boots and was ready to move on. Quick as a flash I had performed my striptease with no one aware of what I was doing.

     Back on the road, after a bit I reached in my pocket to pull out a bit of my silkies and poked my friend in the arm saying, “Look what I’ve got.”

     Amazed she replied, “How did you do that?”

     “I'll  never tell,” I giggled.