Today Marcel felt so good that he liked to cycle. Dirk went looking in reception if he would be able to stay another day in the cabin, and if he could arrange transport to Blyth for the next day The cabin was not possible. He could use his tent for the night
Marcel and I went cycling and it was a better day for cycling than the day before. The report by Dirk follows later.
The road was still occasional steep but not such a long slopes as yesterday. When we arrived at the dam to Holy Island, there was only about a half hour to cycle to the end (8 km) and turned back (8 km. Again) for the flood would come. Too short to have a view of the monastery and castle. We went on..
On a bench at the end of a slope we had lunch. At one time there was a woman climbing uphill. That felt good anyway, that not only we had to, but the native English also. After I offered a portion of the bench, but she said she lived in the neighborhood. She gave us a tip for the route after Bamburgh.
We have continued, but on a slope, I switched back to the smallest gear and shot the chain between the smallest and middle chainring. The solution was known allready and we had the bike quickly rolling again.
Later I got a flat rear tire. With some good will we replace that again. Through this trouble it became later and later.
Around four o'clock, we had a break in Bamburgh and bought some food and drinks. Our route was now on a busy B road. Sometimes the cars gave you all the space needed, sometimes you had the feeling that the creases were driven out of your pants.
Luckily we got back on the route back.
Around nine o'clock we arrived at the campsite and were tents put up quick. The food was easily made. Around ten o'clock I was typing the reports of yesterday and today while Marcel is taking a shower. He said that there was no shower coins needed and he had lovely warm showered.
I actually had to ask what shower he used, because when I took a shower, without having 10 pence with me it was a very cold shower.
The blocks box we were in was booked by another family, so after having uncle and pieps waved of, I am consulting with staff to be relocated to a field where I pitched my tent After arranging a van for the next day, I slowly walked to Berwick. When I arrived there, I took me a healthy and varied lunch of steak and onion pies before I started to walk on the old Elizabethan town walls. The weather, the view and the viewings were beautiful, and there was at each point of interest, an information board with explanation. Here, too, seemed a wonderful British sense of humor through: every battlement has a neat name like Kings 'Hill of Hill Gunpowder except the last and highest which affectionately Megs' Mount is called.
On the north side of the wall there were a bunch of typical in traditional Scottish outfits dressed Dutch tourists quite cursing and swearing. Their dog had apparently fallen off the wall after their son had left her. Line How the dog, the real victim of the story is over, I do not know. The family friendly Dutch was too busy blaming each other and each other's skin at full volume full of cursing. The northern English couple who I stood chatting at that time noted that common sense is usually enough to prevent this kind of trouble, but that Berwick maybe once again had to consider implementing. Balustrade to
After a break on top of Megs' Mount at the end of the walk I went to a nice and quiet tucked away pubje walked where I've been enjoying the locally brewed bitter before I started walking back to the campsite. Just back at the tent began quite suddenly as if to draw off, on command, so I put in my tent my very healthy and varied dinner of steak and onion pies eaten and read a magazine until it was dry. At that moment, a Swiss bukfietskampeervakantiehouder on the same field where I've just been chatting in campingpub while enjoying a nice lager afterwards anyway once crawl in the sleeping bag.