Would not lie quiet and still on some forgotten Scottish hill (143Cong.Rec.S12478)

London isn't a hardship post, of course, so I don't get any R&Rs. But TJ is still entitled to a couple, and he decided to spend his first long break traveling around some European hotspots with his family and me. Our first destination was Edinburgh, and thankfully, despite some airplane delays, our quartet (or quintet, if you count Sage) managed to board the train north from London together. We packed a small picnic for our rail trip, but after settling into our accommodation upon arrival, we were ready for a snack. 

The owner of our apartment suggested The Safari Lounge, a nearby local joint that was a lot classier than its name might let on (top left). We shared some "tapas" of chips, tacos, and fried mussels (top right) before we took a stroll to explore the Old Town. Eventually, we found ourselves at The Scotman's Lounge, which was frequented by the kind of characters I had expected at the first lounge. Our spot at the bar happened to be next to Davy the Ghost, owner of City of Edinburgh Tours, who gave us some tips for the second part of our Scottish tour, in the Highlands (bottom left). We ended the evening with a nightcap including a traditional Scottish treat -- not whiskey, but deep-friend haggis from Harry Ramsden's (bottom right).

The next day, we focused less on degustation and more on expedition. Our apartment was right around the corner from the Palace of Holyroodhouse, at one end of the Royal Mile (top left). We happened to pass by the Queen's Scottish home during the changing of the guard, which was a lot less crowded than the display at Buckingham Palace, perhaps because of the rain (top right). Despite its name, the Royal Scotsman is not a mode of transport for the Queen, but for people who want to be treated like kings (bottom left). We listened to the bagpipe send-off for the train from Waverley Station, where we had hoped to make some purchases at its weekly market. The stands at the station were a bit sparse, though, especially compared to the cramped quarters at the market in the Tron Kirk, a 17th-century structure (bottom right).

 

We walked the full 1.6 kilometers to Edinburgh Castle, the fortress that dominates the skyline of the city, due to its defensive perch on an extinct volcano. Of course, the weather means the castle is often shrouded in fog (left). Despite its misty armor, the fort has been conquered and changed hands many times since it was first constructed in the Iron Age. After becoming part of the city's UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1996, now the government-owned base is home to some military operations -- and some feathered interlopers (right).

Mons Meg, a 150-kilogram cannon that was in operation for almost 100 years (top), still stands silent guard outside of St. Margaret's Chapel, built in the 12th century as a symbol of motherly devotion. Other weapons of war, including axes and swords, are on display within the Great Hall (bottom left), adjacent to the Royal Palace, where the Scottish Crown Jewels are now housed. How the other half lived can be seen in the Prisons of War exhibit, which recreates the conditions of the soldiers and pirates who were confined there (bottom right). 

After exploring the many crannies of the castle, we headed downhill to New Town, which is a relative term, considering most of its neoclassical buildings were constructed in the 18th century. Our Victorian late-lunch choice, The Cafe Royal, actually didn't open until 1863, but it still felt like a sufficient step back in time (left). Its specialty was seafood, so we ordered quite a bit of shellfish, including an oyster appetizer, and I double-downed with cullen skink, a traditional Scottish fish soup (right).

Edinburgh is surrounded with inclines to scale and spy down on the city. We opted to look up at Calton Hill, upon which sits the Parthenon-inspired National Monument and the Nelson Monument, built in 1816 to commemorate the admiral's death at the Battle of Trafalgar (top left). From the floor of Holyrood Park, we ruminated on the ruins of St. Anthony's Chapel (top right). We never got a full view of Arthur's Seat, which is visible beyond the chapel in clearer weather. Instead, we could merely imagine how the highest point in Edinburgh would "peak" out from behind the Salisbury Crags (bottom).

We escaped from the fog by heading out to the port part of the capital for the evening. At the Malt & Hops, we joined college kids and post-5 p.m. workers at a TGIF happy hour (top) before we headed over to the Port o' Leith for a few gos at the pokey (bottom left). For our meal, we directed ourselves to The Compass, which in terms of swankiness was a bit north of the workaday establishments we had already patronized (bottom right).

Leith actually is home to some very high-class residents, considering that the Royal Yacht Britannia is docked there, in an inlet off the Firth of Forth (left). By the time we arrived, it was no longer open for tours, not that we would've paid the money to play queen on the royal family's floating residence. Our style is more the Saturday market (right), which we visited the following morning to stock up on supplies for our cabin accommodations in northern Scotland.

All the outward signs are of a seaside resort (153Cong.Rec.H838)

When people think of a British seaside resort, they usually first think of Brighton, myself included. But after a recent work trip that sent me to Bournemouth, I would recommend it as a better place for some sand, surf, and sun (or clouds, as the case was during my visit). What it lacks in history -- it's one of the few UK cities younger than the United States -- it makes up for in ambiance and amenities.

One reason my vote is with Bournemouth is because of the Norfolk Hotel (top left). Its lobby is adorned with portraits of the family of the Duke of Norfolk, the building's former resident (top right). Despite its high-class heritage, I stayed in a humble but cute dormer room (bottom left), but I made full use of the swanky Victorian-style bathhouse with heated pool (bottom right).

In the evening, after the workday was done, I took a jog down to the beach then along the shore. It was chilly and drizzly, so there weren't many people on the beach to obstruct my view. Toward the east I could just make out the Isle of Wight through the gray (left). To the west, the beach huts that line the promenade heading toward Poole were shuttered, awaiting sunnier days (right).

Due to the poor weather, the Bournemouth Balloon, a seasonal attraction in the city's Lower Gardens, was grounded (left). There also weren't many takers for the Ferris wheel that had been installed downtown in advance of the Bournemouth Wheels Festival (right).

 

Unlike most beach towns, the city has a long green space running through the valley down to the sea. The Bournemouth Gardens follow the banks of the Bourne River, which is more of a creek now; in the Central Gardens, a small wooden bridge is enough to cross it (left). Further inland, a Victorian water tower that once corralled the river's waters still stands in the Upper Gardens (right).

I walked about two-thirds of the length of the gardens to get to the hip neighborhood of Westbourne, where the local Tesco is housed in a former church. I wasn't looking for groceries, though; I was headed for a delicious bowl of home-cooked chili at Geneve (left). Right across the street, I stepped into The Porterhouse because it advertised taps from Ringwood Brewery. To close out an early night, and a short but sweet visit to another lovely British town, I had a pint of the brewery's award-winning Old Thumper ESB (right).

Consisting of a rambling narrative (07-1615-Dorman et al v. Caffey et al)

Not long after I arrived here, someone gave me a Walk magazine, thinking I would get some use out of it. Once I got over its title and looked inside, I decided the person had pegged me pretty well. It may seem a little funny to have a publication dedicated to something most people do on a daily basis. But in the United Kingdom walking is more than just a way to get from point A to point B; it is a beloved weekend activity.

I decided to jump on that bandwagon, albeit a little late, by committing to taking Sage into the countryside at least once a month for a relaxing ramble. I hesitated for a few months because I wasn't sure how Sage would take to lengthy public transport, but he was a total pro on the hour-long ride to Pangbourne (left). I disembarked at the train station for a short walk to Whitchurch-on-Thames, where we started our first official dog-and-owner hike (right). 

To get to the town we had to cross Whitchurch Bridge, a still-operating toll bridge (left). When it first opened in 1792, pedestrians were charged a half-penny apiece. According to a chart posted on the old toll house (right), animals varied in cost: Sheep and pigs were also a half-penny each, horses and cows were 2 pennies each, and dogs weren't even listed. Nowadays, each car is charged 60 pence, but pedestrians -- and their animal companions -- can cross for free.

 

The city is named after the Hwitcurke, built in the 9th century by the Saxons. The current religious structure, much renovated over the years, now houses St. Mary's Church, whose stone south wall is thought to date to the 11th century (left). The small village also boasts a surprising number of impressive buildings, former homes of prominent mill or agricultural estate owners (right).

Our Circular Walk started up the hill from downtown, as the houses became farther and farther apart. At first we were following the Chiltern Way, which often wove in between livestock fields (left). At some points, though, we had to cut through pastures, whose occupants provided a challenge to Sage's focus on forward motion (right).

The path gets its name from the Chiltern Hills, which we admired during water breaks throughout our walk (left). As the path started to get steeper, the weather got damper, but the surrounding North Wessex Downs provided us with a nice distraction from the drizzle (right). 

At Hartslock Nature Reserve we took a quick but windy detour to an overlook, where once again I failed at taking a selfie (top left). We then descended to the Thames Path, which we followed partway back to the village (top right). A final tree-lined country road led us back to the main high street (bottom), along which is located The Greyhound. I was planning to lunch at the dog-friendly pub, but we made such good time that it wasn't open yet, so we jumped on the first train home and celebrated our first successful ramble with a mid-afternoon snooze. 

A few weeks later, spring arrived for our walk along the Liss to Petersfield section of the Shipwrights Way (left). Our starting point, Liss, had hardly awakened for the day, and there wasn't much to see, so we quickly struck out for the country, where Sage had his pick of plants and shrubs to sniff (right). 

For about the first half of the walk, we strolled through South Downs National Park and across the River Rother (left). We stumbled back on civilization, of a sort, when we reached Petersfield Golf Club (right). I took a wrong turn somewhere along the front nine, but I managed to get us back on track before getting struck by a golf ball.

The second half of the hike took us past some lovely country homes, including a timber-frame house beside Tilmore Brook (top). Just down the road was the inviting Harrow Inn, which I hope to give a second look on a drier day (bottom left). The last point of interest before winding down the last meters to Petersfield was the "Stack of Books" sculpture (bottom right), dedicated to three native sons of the village Steep, including Alec Guinness, who lived right down the road in his formative years before he became a Jedi master.

Spring really showed its stuff during our third ramble: the Box Hill to Leatherhead walk. Despite its name, the hike began at Westhumble train station. There was a historic start to the day: Around the corner from the station was a gate with a plaque dedicated to diarist Fanny Burney; across the road was the 12th-century wooden Westhumble Chapel (left). It would be another 7 miles to our 21st century destination: Leatherhead, whose agricultural heritage was on display at its weekend market (right).

Besides its length, I knew this ramble would be more challenging because of its ascents and descents through the North Downs and Surrey Hills. The route started out flat enough, passing some dormant vineyards along the North Downs Way (left). Less than a half-hour in, I spied the Denbies Wine Estate in the distance, but I decided it was too early for a refreshment break. At many points, the path divided serene carpets of bluebells (right).

But then we got to our first obstacle: Sage balked at the Stepping Stones across the River Mole (left), so we had to make a short detour upstream to cross the river by footbridge instead. Later on, I balked at the 182 steps up White Hill, but Sage motivated me by eagerly bounding up the incline (right).

The climbs were more than worth it in the end, as they brought us to the summit of Box Hill, the first UK country park (left). Once in the park, for a while the route followed the Box Hill Hike, including past the Salomons Memorial viewpoint, named after the businessman donor of the parkland (right). 

A little later, the trail connected to the park's Happy Valley Hike path, which guided us through Juniper Bottom (left). The latter name is more appropriate for the area as the route is lined with juniper trees, shrubs that have an evergreen feel (right). On this warm day, the shade of their needles was actually a welcome respite from the sun.

With yet another climb we reached Juniper Top, a huge field surrounded by the namesake shrubs (left). We took in a snack with the view before making the final down-up-down to King William IV pub, just outside Mickleham (right). Once again, the pub was not quite open, so we pushed forward to the final stretch. 

From Mickleham the trail leveled out as it headed into Norbury Park then through the River Mole Local Nature Reserve (left). Right before we headed into Leatherhead, we passed Thorncroft Manor, a feudal manor from Norman times that has now been converted into an office building (right). With this walk, I think that Sage and I proved ourselves to be true ramblers. Now, I might even subscribe to Walk to get ideas for future adventures.