The White Cliffs of Dover – About Castles and Fairies

Hiking Madness - Hiking in UK and elsewhere

White Cliffs of Dover29th August
20.7km – with Prasana.

This walk lies a little longer in the past, but I didn’t want to keep it from you :-).

Inspiration
Following my ‘Bored of Hiking‘ post, I followed up a suggestion of one of my blog readers and researched the White Cliffs Walking Festival in Dover that was supposed to be on the August Bank Holiday weekend. (What’s the Bank Holiday about, you wonder? We celebrate the ‘Late Summer’. UK doesn’t have an Independence Day or an International Worker’s Day, so the government had to come up with an alternative to avoid emigration due to the insufficient amount of bank holidays.)

White Cliffs of DoverI heard about the White Cliffs of Dover before; they were in fact on my to-do list, so I figured it was a great opportunity to take them off the list.

Dover Castle
We arrived in Dover early in the morning…

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Ayers Rock Resort

Clare's Cosmos

Thoughts on Location No 52

Ayers Rock Resort, Yulara, Northern Territory

Our quick trip to Uluru was jammed packed full of excitement.  We spent time bushwalking, watching the sun rise and set over Uluru and Kata Tjuta, taking way too many photos, and in between all of that, trying to stay cool.

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Sunday in medieval village

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Brisighella is a medieval village in the province of Ravenna, Italy. It is famous for the Castle Rocca built in 1228, the “Clock Tower” rebuilt in the 19th, the “Donkeys’ Road”- an elevated road which is unique in the world. It is unusual and antique village which dates to the end of the XIIth century.

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The Marble Shore

Notes from Near and Far

The Marble Shore“Whoever raises the great stones sinks.” ~ Giorgos Seferis, “Mycenae”

Like a river on a map, I trace the sinuous line with my finger as it meanders over the stone. The crystallised vein is rust-orange in a shadowy white expanse. The marble is rougher than I’d imagined, more like a sheet of compressed salt, baked solid by sun. A few succulents flower in the fissures, sustained by grains of soil wind-spilled into the cracks – enough to send up a shower of pale yellow stars. I hear the sighs of the sea beside me, whispers of wind through the pines. I’m standing in an abandoned quarry, hemmed in by its high cathedral walls, seawater licking the cove. A flight of herons steers eastwards across the sky. I follow that weaving line in the marble until the mineral seam slips out of reach, rising up the cliffs like a lit fuse…

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