Trip report: (hidden) gems of England
 

This is a report about an exceptional trip to Southwest and Central England. It was exceptional because, within 10 days, we had not one drop on rain. It was exceptional because we had been able to consume some amazingly decent food – without eating something else but English fare. And it was exceptional because we discovered a landscape of inherent natural beauty which is hardly mentioned in many travelguides and also somewhat neglected here on fodors.

We travelled, as always, with our three-generation family of six, starting with our 18-year-old twin boys and ending with mother-in-law and father-in-law who is 82.

We had 10 days, from 19 to 28 July 2008, and decided to drive a loop, starting in Heathrow, then via Stonehenge and Salisbury to North Devon, spending there several days, then continuing via Wells to Bath, then further to the Cotswolds, with a side trip to Warwick and Stratford, and ending, after a visit to Blenheim Palace, in Oxford.
(We skipped London and Windsor because we had been there.)

We have a more relaxing travelling style and do not maximize the number of attractions per day. Instead, we like hiking and swimming, taking a nap in the afternoon – and good food and wine. However, we still visited three UNESCO World Heritage Sites, a castle, a palace, 6 cathedrals, 2 English gardens, 2 prehistoric suites, Roman ruins, and about three dozen medieval towns.

The trip was most rewarding and we would happily repeat this itinerary if we had to plan such a trip for a second time.

This forum had a great share of the success of this trip. We are especially thankful for hints and tips from (among others) janisj, texasbookworm, mermaid, irishface, alanRow, historytraveler, ElendilPickle, TuckH, Schuler, optimystic, julia_t and flanneruk who even answered my email and gave extremely helpful advice (strangely without the cynical comments which are usually his trademark).

Being a non-native speaker, I apologize for my pidgin English.

Day One: A Slow Start and a Helpful Neighbour

We flew into Heathrow with Lufthansa, supposed to land at 7:25. However, the plane was almost an hour late, due to a shortage of staff in Düsseldorf. The second delay occurred at the National car rental agency where we had our first experience with one of the great British virtues, waiting in queues. Although on a Saturday morning, it took more 90 minutes until we were able to enter our rental car. Fortunately, they gave us a 9-seater VW transporter because DW had insisted in dressing like an English lady each day and had taken an amount of luggage which was similar to that of Marlene Dietrich when she boarded the ocean-liner for her emigration to America.

Well, the understaffed car rental agency would cost us a visit to Stourhead which was planned for the afternoon. We could live with that.

Our first destination was Stonehenge and, vow, the most impressive Stonehenge experience is the almost aerial view when you come over the hill on A 303 and you see the stone circle for the first time.

Otherwise, Stonehenge is one of those wonders-of-the-word-places-to-see-before-you-die which are “done” (as the Americans use to say) within 3 seconds. You see it and that’s it. Well, we parked our car, looked at the unexcavated stone-age mounds in the landscape, walked over to the fence, strolled along the fence to see the stone circle from different angles (which actually didn’t change much) and congratulated ourselves that we saved the entrance fee of 39£ for six adults, because after paying the entrance fee, you are admitted to come 5 meters closer to the stones.

www.stonehenge.co.uk

(Early access and late access are a different story because this allows you to touch the stones – obviously a most rewarding experience – and to watch neo-paganists performing strange rites.) For early/late access:
www.english-heritage.org.uk/server/show/nav.878

However, we lost what we had saved when we went to the street-stand to buy three white, soft and completely taste-free sandwiches, two muffins and a tiny bottle of water for 25£.

We proceeded to Salisbury. Our navigation system led us through High Street, which must have been a picturesque medieval street in ancient times but is now ruined by souvenir shops and busloads of colourfully dressed tourists from all parts of the world.

However, once you have paid the entrance fee for the parking lot within Cathedral Close, you are in another world. Salisbury Cathedral is a fine gothic cathedral, equal to the best cathedrals on the continent. However, the typical English feature is that the tower is built right over the crossing.
www.salisburycathedral.org.uk
However, time hadn’t come yet for visiting the Cathedral. First, we had to deal with the helpful neighbour. We had paid a fee of 6£ for parking right within Cathedral Close. There are marked spaces on the pavement. When I pulled the car on one empty space, a man was showing up, explaining that he lived in one of the adjacent buildings and that the marked parking space was private.

I thanked him and pulled the car on another marked space for parking, carefully observing that there was no sign or other indication of parking prohibition. Again, the helpful neighbour approached us and explained, at length, that parking was forbidden there. When I answered that I could not detect any sign of parking prohibition he explained that exactly this space was prohibited because it was reserved for the car of the General of the British Army in case the French would attack Salisbury Cathedral and it had to be defended. I wanted everything but not to be responsible for the destruction of Salisbury Cathedral and started the engine to clear the place when the helpful neighbour showed up for the third time and apologized that he had mistaken our parking space for another one and that our space was unrestricted and available. Well, I thought, the helpful neighbours are all the same all over the world and you can feel like at home, even on the British Isles.

Finally, we were out of the car and inside Salisbury Cathedral (20.5£ donation for a family and two seniors) which is a fine example of an English gothic cathedral indeed. Most remarkable is the unity of style which comes from the fact that it took only 160 years to complete Salisbury Cathedral (completed in 1380). The chapter house displays a copy of the Magna Carta Libertatum, one of the oldest written constitutions granting civil rights (which is amazing, especially since some of the British Fodorites have developed an allergy to written constitutions).

When we left Salisbury, time had come for lunch. As ever, we intended to have a picnic. Surprisingly, no village could be too small for a pub, but we could not find any grocery store.

Finally, we ended up in a petrol station where we bought an undefinable substance whose label read “bread”, a brownish liquid in a yellow can whose label read “Draught Bitter” (which was, as we read in the fineprint, brewed by a Belgian company) and some meat-flavoured jello in baked cardboard whose label read “Cornish pasty”.

Since you shall go through hell in order to reach heaven, we had or worst culinary experiences right in the first half of or first day in England.

Obviously, we foreigners had made some mistakes: The first mistake was to buy in a filling station shop. The second mistake was to buy the wrong liquid. Later we learned that “Draught Bitter” is not intended for human consumption. In the internet, I found following description:

“Boddingtons Bitter. 3.8% alc. vol. This beer was used to fill our beer traps, which will ensnare the slugs and snails that are ravaging our garden. Beer traps are the most humane and environmentally-friendly method of controlling gastropods.” (http://www.flickr.com/photos/git/536...7594528316751/)

I am not sure if it is exactly “human” to let slugs drink a liquid which is brewed as skilfully as the English national team plays football, but at least, it did not kill us. (Although we DID well a little bit like slugs after munching the baked cardboard, but probably our English friends will tell us that pasty is not intended for human consumption but for poisoning rats.)

Since we had spent so much time for thorough sightseeing of the National car rental agency, we skipped Wilton House and Stourhead and sped on those fabulous dual carriageways to North Devon. Did I praise the English roads? After Barnstaple, we found ourselves on hedged single-track roads which were so narrow that the hedges scraped our exterior mirrors on both sides. Meeting a lorry on an incline was a special experience. The estimated arrival time on our navigation system kept on proceeding with considerable speed.
Finally, we arrived at Woolacombe, the spot on North Devon coast that we had selected. More on this tomorrow.

So far, a few words about dinner. We chose to stay at Watersmeet Hotel, which is a nice, old-fashioned resort hotel directly on the coast. AA awarded Watersmeet Hotel three stars and a rosette for good food.

www.watersmeethotel.co.uk

“Good food” means, they have a dress code for dinner: Either jacket or tie, collared shirt, no jeans, no trainers. Sounds very British – and is certainly required when you see how British (and American) people dress when there is no dress code.

It was a pleasant surprise that the food was really good. Fillet of mullet on fennel as a starter, rack of Devon lamb as a main dish (from our table, we could see the Devon lambs grazing), and a rich chocolate dessert with clotted cream from Devon were more than a compensation for the filling station food we had for lunch.
Another surprise: They had quite a winelist with many decent wines for 15 to 20£ per bottle. Not bad.

Conclusion: English cuisine is like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. You can get really good fare, with excellent regional ingredients or some of the worst food which is available on the planet. For the rest of our trip, we had learned to find the better side of English cuisine.

To be continued.

Excellent report; I love the way you write.

"Meeting a lorry on an incline was a special experience." This just cracked me up.

Looking forward to the rest of your report, particularly because - as you note - there haven't been that many trip reports on the area.

I suspect that if you picked up food at a gas station in the U.S., you would find the same kind of sandwiches. I like Boddington's, maybe I've built up a tolerance over the 20 some years I've been travelling to England. It's not my favourite beer, but I'd pick it over a watery Bud. It's quite common to use beer to combat slugs, even in North America.

Too bad you had to miss Stourhead. I think you would have loved it and there is a great little inn there, called the Spread Eagle, where you can get great food. Personally, I don't think you missed too much bypassing Wilton House.

traveller 1959 - are you by any chance related to Bill Bryson? Your humor reminds me of him, esp I am currently reading his book "Notes from a Small Island" and just done with the section of Stonehenge and Salisbury!

I have to respectfully disagree with rickmav regarding Wilton House. I visited it in May '08 and absolutely loved the place. So many treasures and lots of history too!

I haven't been to Stourhead, but I recently watched a show on it (National Trust Gardens). I don't think I'd enjoy it, considering it's a landscape garden rather than a formal garden (which I like, with lots of flowers etc).

Well, we missed Stourhead because we had to reach our destination.

But later on our trip, we visited some equally fine English gardens. Be a little patient - now dinner waits for us, in a Japanese restaurant: sashimi will be appropriate at the end of a hot day.

I also detect notes of Bill Bryson in your writing style, this is a good thing! :)

Brilliant trip report, traveller1959!

Lee Ann

In the style of Bill Bryson? Perhaps a little way to go.

If you expected anything beyond total crap from a service station, well, you've learnt a lesson. Real Cornish pasties are glorious beyond imagination but you need a native Cornish person to make them, they are not available commercially. And you also now know that Stonehenge is worth no more than a few minutes of your life. Please pass it on to your countryfolk who seem preoccupied with the place.

There's nothing wrong with Boddingtons, it's a pleasantly light lunchtime beer, wasted on slugs and snails.

Just one question - you did drink it chilled and in glasses didn't you? Otherwise anything might have happened. Canned Boddies is noteworthy for its "widget" which goes off when you open it and gives the beer texture. I almost said gives it a head but thought better of it.

Wonderful start! What do you mean &quot;<i>Be a little patient - </i>&quot; We are waiting here ;)

Really enjoying reading about your trip, and glad I was able to help in some small way with your planning. More please!

Day Two: Natural Beauties

We got up early in the morning and started with a swim. In the pool, we met an amicable English gentleman of about 90 years. I liked him immediately, because he was a good breaststroke swimmer and wore a European-style swimsuit (what the Americans call “speedo”). We chatted a bit about seawater temperature, how to keep a lawn clear of daisies and the similarities and differences of the concepts of civilian duty in the works of Thomas Hobbes, John Locke and Dante Alighieri.

Later, for breakfast, I had smoked haddock with a poached egg and some vegetables. Smoked haddock, which is cooked in milk, is delicious, just slightly salty and with a delicate smokey flavour. The portion was big enough to prevent half Rwanda from starving.

Since it was a beautiful, sunny day, we decided to leave the car in the car park and to explore the coast on foot. I have seen many coastlines in my life, but North Devon is one of the most beautiful ones. North Devon coast is very diverse, with a little bit of everything - wide sandy beaches, high dunes, steep cliffs, bizarre rocks. The enormous tidal range, amplified by the funnel effect of Bristol Channel, makes the coast appear totally different at different times of the day.

A well-maintained coast path leads along the coastline, and the most beautiful sections, e.g. at Morte Point, are National Trust wilderness areas, with an abundance of wildflowers and lots of leisurely grazing sheep.

The coast is excellent for swimming, surfing, all kinds of beach activities, hiking, leisurely strolling along the beach through shallow water, sea-canoeing, paragliding… whatever. Woolacombe is a tiny resort town, with a few shops, ice cream parlours, restaurants, hotels etc., but without any ugly high-rise building or concrete structure. The Watersmeet hotel is a 1 km pleasant walk away from the village, and the Esplanade is lined with Victorian doll’s houses, with a few modern buildings which, however, blend in harmoniously. Traffic is no nuisance, and the loudest sounds are the cries of the seagulls and the baaing of the sheep.

How did we find this piece of Garden Eden?

Believe it or not: with Google Earth. Originally, we wanted to see the Cotswolds. Being in the area, we wanted to include a visit to Bath. Being in Bath, we thought about spending a few days on the beach. Where is the nearest beach? I flew with Google Earth over the coast, starting in Bristol and proceeding in western direction. The first nice beach I saw was Weston-super-Mare (whose wooden pier burnt to the ground during our stay in England). I proceeded further westwards and found a spectacular cliff line. Right in the middle of the steep coast, there is a tiny harbour named Lynmouth. We considered staying there, but the beach there is rocky and not good for swimming. Proceeding further westwards, the cliffs began alternating with sandy beaches, and the most beautiful of those beaches is Woolacombe, and from the aerial view I saw a beautifully located hotel and this was the Watersmeet.

In the afternoon, while we enjoyed ourselves sitting on the balcony and sipping a bottle of sparkling wine, there was some noise and excitement on the beach below us. A hawk darted out of the sun and caught a seagull, screwing with his prey in his claws high up into the sky. Eventually he dropped the seagull in order to catch it again. Do hawks toy with their prey like cats?

Anyway, we immediately got hungry and considered having poultry for dinner. But instead, we decided to honour the unfortunate seagull by eating seafood. The scallops, served on fennel mousse, were excellent, and so was the monkfish, prepared Mediterranean style with chorizo, tomatoes and olive oil. For dessert, we ordered, guess what, pudding with clotted cream.

After dinner, I went out for a stroll together with my 18-year-old sons. Since it was weekend, there was a small party having a barbecue in one of the secluded bays on the beach. In another bay, a young man tried to impress his girlfriend by undressing and diving into the waves within seconds. On the coast path, we met a young couple, he was carrying a bottle of vodka, she a bottle of tequila. After sharing some gulps with us, they happily continued. On the way back, we passed one of those Victorian beachhouses. In the windowframe, a young beauty was sitting, hardly dressed, and invited us (or at least, my sons) to party with her. England is a beautiful country.

To be continued.

I was in Woolacombe for a wedding four years ago - and, yes, you are right, it is a beautiful part of England. I am waiting to see if you went to Lynmouth or did any wandering through Dartmoor.

Meanwhile, you are making me laugh a lot. Thanks. Especially liked the comment about Magna Carta and written constiutions.

Great fun, thanks for sharing your impressions. Immediately got hungry and considered poultry, love it.

Traveller
You English is excellent are you German or Danish?

Petrol station food is famously avoided. Beer in a can called draught is merely marketing for the &quot;Belgians are coming&quot;. Boddingtons with widget best avoided.

Keep going, by the way how did you find the fine weather for the rest of Britain it has rained since April

Thank you all for your comments.

bilboburgler:

I am German.

At the coast, you have often better weather, especially during high tide. Indeed, during our first days, it was raining in the hinterland, while we had blue skies at the coast.

When we left the coast, we had blue skies all over England. When we returned home, it started to rain in England.

traveller1959 - What a lovely read!
You are totally brilliant in the way in which you picked out your 'holiday spot'! Well done - I've got to give this a try.
I can see you are in the same frame of mind when it comes to clotted cream - I am busy writing my trip report and still to tell of our second delicious cream tea! Keep it comin......
Oh, about Cornish pasties: We went to Padstow one year and had the famous pasty - it was just awful, so you are not alone!

traveller1959- I started reading because our family had done a similar trip about 7 years ago. But I must say I'm continuing (and anxiously waiting fo the rest) because of your writing style. I love your discussion with the man at the pool - Please continue!

Day Three: England’s Most Beautiful Village Or: the Faustian Pact

English hotel breakfast is pretty much the same, wherever you stay. Usually, there is a buffet with croissants, Danish pastry, fruit, juices and cereals and a menu with cooked-to-order items like eggs, ham, sausage, black pudding, haddock, kippers, potatoes and vegetables. This morning, one of our sons took all his courage to take a special English item from the buffet which is called “Weetabix “. The wrapper looks pretty, but once you have unwrapped it, a thing appears which looks like dried sheep dung and which tastes like dried sheep dung. Well, we gave it to the birds, and I enjoyed my fried kippers.

This day, we visited Clovelly, a fishing village which could easily win every “England’s-Most-Beautiful-Village”-contest. The name “Clovelly” is celtic and developed from 'cloh' and 'Feli' (a personal name), meaning 'Feli's dyke’.

Clovelly is located within a narrow recess in the cliffs of North Devon Coast. It is a special place in many ways.

Firstly, it is completely free of traffic. The (almost) only access is an incredibly steep winding road of cobbled stones which can be managed only on foot, with donkeys or with sleds (to carry heavy good, e.g. the luggage of those tourists who choose to stay overnight in the village). Thank God, they offer a Landrover shuttle service over a back road for 2&pound; per person. Of course, you HAVE to walk one way in order to see the village. We chose to walk downhill and to take the shuttle service to bring us back uphill. Never invested 2&pound; so wisely.

Secondly, Clovelly is very picturesque, partly because it is nestled into the narrow canyon, partly because of the pretty cottages and the abundance of flowers in the gardens. The little harbour is the epitome of a romantic fishing port. You can visit a typical fisherman’s cottage (dating from 1930), a modest chapel, a small museum, devoted to a novelist who lived there, two pubs and several souvenir shops. The views of the coastline from the slope above the village as well as from the harbour are breathtaking. All in all, a very nice place to spend a lovely morning.

Thirdly, it is historic. I overheard an American lady who, full of awe and admiration, said to her travel companions, “This is medieval!” Actually, nothing is medieval in Clovelly. But the cottages are built in a traditional way and look indeed as if they were erected just shortly after the dawn of time.

Forthly, Clovelly is a slick business model. The whole village is privately owned by one family, the Hamlyns. This privatisation of a village was, however, not Margaret Thatcher’s achievement (as you would expect), but happened already in 1738. Amazing, that feudalism still exists in England. However, feudalism has been modernized. The Hamlyns opened their village to visitors, however charging an entrance fee of 5.50&pound; per adult and directing them through a highly commercialised visitor center including a giant gift shop. BBC writes: “It seems, however, that these villagers, or at least the owners, have made some sort of Faustian pact with the devil of tourism.” Well, we have seen worse pacts with the devil of tourism in the world and also during our trip through England. And certainly, the entrance fees help to conserve this gem.

The afternoon, we spent on the beach. Low tide revealed most bizarre, sharp-edged rock formations emerging from the sand. From a close angle, it looked like Mordor. My son even found Sauron’s whirlpool – a tidal pool in one of those rocks, filled with multicoloured algae.

At dinner, the hotel’s chef exceeded himself. The main course was fillet of Exmoor beef, prepared to our tastes (which is usually half alive), and garnished with onion marmalade and lukewarm foie gras on roasted blini.

Our after-dinner stroll led us in the other direction, towards Morte Point, where we wanted to watch the sunset. Right behind the hotel, we passed a gate and found ourselves, according to the restaurant’s dress code, with jacket, tie and leather soles, right in the middle of a herd of grazing sheep.

To be continued.

I love the Weetabix story.
Weetabix is a breakfast cereal.
You pour milk over it and sugar if required.
As yours went to the birds, I assume that your poor son tried to eat it dry like a biscuit.

BTW, Cornish pasties can vary enormously. You are better getting one from a small local baker.
The best I hove had was in a pub on one of the Scilly islands.
The landlady baked them herself and they were enormous. We had to share one.

I've had great Cornish Pasties. However, I've tried Weetabix even with the aforementioned milk and sugar - and it still tastes like sheep dung :)

Oh, about Cornish pasties: We went to Padstow one year and had the famous pasty - it was just awful, so you are not alone!&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Proof positive, as if it were needed, that all foreigners are wrong 'uns.

Sorry the Weetabix wasn't a hit. I don't like soggy cereal, so I used to eat Weetabix a fair amount growing up - but with butter and marmite or jam. I can't imagine eating it on it's own!

My family used to visit this area back in the fifties and sixties - I loved Watersmeet. And do you know about the Lynmouth flood tragedy in 1952? (www.lyntonandlynmouth.org.uk/flood/index.htm)

I am loving this report!
Loved the &quot;special&quot; lorry-on-an-incline experience!

Day Four: The Best of Exmoor

For this day, we had planned not to have dinner in the hotel but in a Michelin-star-decorated restaurant in a tiny village south of Exmoor National Park. Naturally, we would do some sightseeing in the Park before going to dinner. However, weather was fine, waves were thundering so that our travelling companies expressed their wish to start the day with a hike in the area.

Indeed, we made a beautiful walk directly from the hotel over the coast path to Morte Point, then turning inlands and walking on elastic, mossy pathways through gently rolling hills, until we passed an ancient graveyard and reached Mortehoe, the picture-postcard village with a sturdy church, half-timbered houses and cozy pubs. Total walking distance was 5 km, a little more than an hour.

www.devon-holiday.com/information/mortehoe.htm

Around noon, we boarded our van and left for Exmoor. Our first destination was the Valley of the Rocks near Lynton. Did I tell already about the narrow roads in North Devon? These roads are so narrow that your exterior mirrors scratch the hedges on both sides. Furthermore, the roads are steep with inclines that reach 23%. And once you are past Hunter’s Inn und you are on the coast road towards Woody Bay, you find yourself on a steep, twisting single-track but two-way road with a cliffside on the right and a vertical abyss on the left and a convoy of vintage roadsters approaching from the front. Boy, forget the travelling time estimations of your navigation system! And better blindfold the ladies in your car (or wear earplugs).

I had driven tiny mountain roads in the Pyrenees, I had driven Titus Canyon Road in Death Valley, but the road to Woody Bay easily wins the scariest road contest!

Eventually, the road opens into a valley. You pay a toll of 1&pound; and proceed into the Valley of Rocks – the finest section of North Devon steep coast. The Valley of Rocks offers breathtaking vistas and beautiful walking trails.

www.lynton-lynmouth-tourism.co.uk

We continued our way towards Lynton and Lynmouth. Lynmouth is another picture postcard fishing village, a little larger than Clovelly and less museum-like. From Lynmouth, you can take a beautiful hiking trail to Watersmeet, a place where two rivers meet and which resembles a rain-forest with an abundance of river rapids and waterfalls.

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/main.../w-watersmeet/

Right after Lynmouth, the road rises again onto the plateau and you are right within Exmoor, a heather-clad upland moor with horses, sheep and cattle on open range. There we saw them grazing, our praised dinners! (In fact, we had eaten lamb and beef, but, unfortunately, nobody served us horsemeat.) A landscape of a barren beauty.

http://www.exmoor-nationalpark.gov.u...ng/gallery.htm

Again, driving is slow because you have to anticipate an animal of considerable mass standing on the road behind each curve or bluff. Eventually, we reached a major attraction of Exmoor National Park, the Tarr Steps. This is arguably the finest clapper bridge in England and a beautiful spot. Children are frolicking in the water, you can walk over the bridge and have a most civilised drink in the 5-star inn which is directly located at the Steps. The Tarr Steps are supposed to be built in Medieval ages, but look as if they were prehistoric.

www.everythingexmoor.org.uk/_T/Tarr_Steps.php

We proceeded to our main destination of this day: The Mason Arms in Knowstone. You don’t have to know Knowstone – it is a hamlet consisting of about a dozen houses including a 13 century pub, the Mason Arms. The Red Michelin Guide has rated Mason Arms in a very peculiar way – with one set of cutlery and with a star. We found the rating very appropriate. You enter a typical village pub – with locals in dirty dungarees sitting besides investment bankers in cashmere suits. Unusual for a Michelin-star decorated restaurant, here it is completely natural to have a bitter as an ap&eacute;ritif. The ap&eacute;ritifs are served in the historical kitchen, complete with baking oven, which has been converted into a lounge.

www.masonsarmsdevon.co.uk
And a beautiful review:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/wine/main...0/edmoir30.xml

The food is not too sophisticated, but well-prepared. Most of us had Devon crab as a starter (the waitress was somewhat puzzled but we explained to her that we usually favour dishes with regional ingredients) which was served with cr&egrave;me fra&icirc;che and mango dressing. For main course, I ordered again fillet of Exmoor beef (always eat local), here garnished with courgette and carrot ribbons, potato fondant and tarragon jus. The day before, at Watersmeet Hotel, the Exmoor beef had been delicious, and here, it was even better: the best of Exmoor.

My son had a Mason Arms’ signature dish, roulade of pork belly, braised red cabbage and apple compote, which usually would be considered a very rustic dish but which was so masterly prepared as only a star-decorated chef could do it. For dessert, I took a chocolate and Cointreau mousse.

England is considered as an expensive country, especially when it comes to food. But the bill counted not more than 43&pound; per person, including three courses, beers, wines, waters and coffees. Okay, service was not included, and we probably overtipped (we gave 19%) but we found it worth for such a memorable culinary experience – and where else on the world can you enjoy a Michelin-star rated dinner for 43&pound;?

BTW, if you go to a stand on the beach, have three beers, a portion of fish&amp;chips (well-aged fat, solidified to lumps and sticks) and three scoops of ice-cream afterwards, you come close to pay half of that what we paid for our gourmet dinner. In contrast to common prejudice, British food can be amazingly good – and amazingly bad. We continued having the good.

To be continued.

Horse is considered unacceptable in Uk as is jockey and donkey. Unfortunatly it does not stop us sending old horses to the continent for the french to eat.. Jockeys get bribes and donkeys become salami in Italy.

Love the story

And I assume that was local mango you had with your crab at the Mason's Arms?

bilboburgler:

What do you do with those fine young race-horses which are so unfortunate to break a leg?

They make excellent fillet steaks.

Fish and Chips can be the food of the gods or otherwise,.
You do not experience it at its best at a grotty beach snack bar or even in a pub.
You have to go away from the beach into the village and look for a shop with steamed-up windows and a queue outside.
Inside, there should be a deep-fat fryer with assistants scooping out the beautifully fried fish, chips, sausages etc.
You sometimes have to wait while a new batch is cooking. You say &quot;yes&quot; to &quot;salt and vinegar,love&quot; and eat them piping hot.

Wheetabix is just shredded wheat - only flaked/formed instead of shredded/formed.

Not a taste sensation by any means, but I can't see how it could taste bad/offensive. Just a bland-ish cereal.

Loving the report!

Day Five: A Structural Engineering Problem Turned Into Beauty and: Splurging Like the Romans

Weather in England had been nice so far, warm and sunny. But on our fifth day, when we left the coast, it grew hot and humid. They day was mainly devoted to driving to Bath. Driving distance is just 213km, but given the narrow roads in Devon, you need almost 4 hours.

Fodorites advised us just before beginning our trip to visit Wells. We were extremely thankful for this tip indeed. Driving from M5 to Wells is already a lovely thing – through pretty villages and countryside. Wells is a quaint little town with a pretty market, old gates and bookshops everywhere. The cathedral is gorgeous and appears ridiculously oversized in such a small town but this gives a proper impression how proportions were in the old times.

www.wells-uk.com/wells_photos.php

Wells ranks among England’s most beautiful cathedrals. Like other English cathedrals, it has a central tower right over the crossing. This causes a structural engineering problem because the tower is over open space. In order to hold the load of the tower, the architect erected powerful pillars, but built them in the form of diagonal gothic arches which makes them appear like giant scissors. Very unique!

Just outside the cathedral, you find the world’s oldest neighbourhood of terraced houses. It is called Vicar’s Close and was originally built in 1363 for the choir members. The Close is tapered to make it look longer when viewed from the bottom. Although it has its original cobblestone surface, many visitors would estimate its age as being no older than 100 years.

After having a picnic in a picnic area out of town, we proceeded to Bath. The city did not welcome us well. The road into town led us through endless industrial suburbs which we could thoroughly examine, since congestion was so heavy that we would have been faster by walking.

Finally, we reached our hotel. We had prebooked hotels in the same price range (of about 150-160&pound; per double room. Usually we could afford a four-star hotel for that rate. But in Bath, our budget was sufficient for a 5-star-ultra-luxury hotel: The MacDonald Bath Spa Hotel (not to be confused with a popular restaurant chain of the same name).

www.macdonaldhotels.co.uk/bathspa/index.htm

When our van entered the grounds, we felt like approaching an ambassador’s residence. Everything was opulent, both outside and inside (the hotel was designed by Rocco Forte). Here my review on tripadvisor:

http://tinyurl.com/69dnvk

Since the day had grown awfully hot, we especially enjoyed that this was the only hotel during our trip which had air condition. And we enjoyed the spa. Bath is an ancient Roman spa, and the Bath Spa Hotel is probably the way the Roman would be bathing nowadays. The hotel has several slightly saline thermal pools, including a large, moderately warm lap pool and a steaming hot outdoor pool. Exactly what we needed after a long drive and exhausting sightseeing!

Good hotels spoil their guests. Instead of walking into town, we let ourselves seduce by the prospect of al fresco dining in the hotel’s park. Most memorable was a smoked haddock fishcake and the chats with the waitstaff. The hotel manager is Italian and so are many waiters. Our waiter was obviously surprised that we knew his hometown, Udine, mainly because of the famous football club Udinese Calcio (the current German National Team manager Oliver Bierhoff was top goal scorer of the season in the Italian serie A with Udinese Calcio). Football indeed connects the world (except for the English, because their national team usually fails to qualify for international competitions – this one is for Cholmondley_Warner).

We chatted a bit about drinking habits. He asked us whether we preferred wine or beer. We answered, we usually start with a pint of beer and then switch to wine. He seemed to be pleased with our answer. Then he asked us whether we preferred white wine or red wine. We answered, we usually drink white wine with the first courses and red wine with the latter courses. He seemed to be pleased again. (Obviously, in England, waiters get a percentage of the sales.)

After dinner, we strolled through the hotel’s beautiful park which connected into an extensive public park which included a picturesque canal. The locals were walking their dogs and everything was peaceful.

The City of Bath waited for us to be visited the next day.

To be continued.

Very amusing and informative. Looking forward to more . . .

This is wonderful - looking forward to more

Hi traveller,

I've just caught up with you, having been away on my own travels.

It was exceptional because, within 10 days, we had not one drop on rain.&gt;&gt;

and lucky, because i gather that we had better weather in Iceland than our nieghbours here in Cornwall were &quot;enjoying&quot; while we were away. and the rain has been almost continous since we returned.

I enjoyed your description of north devon and the novel way you picked Woolacombe as your destination. I must try that.

but you have pasties all wrong; as others have pointed out you need to find a reliable local baker which makes their own. of course this requires quite a lot of research - indeed many cornish people seem to spend considerable amounts of time carrying out this research, testing pasties for breakfst, lunch and tea. which enables them to roll down the hills you describe without sustaining any damamge.

looking forward to more,

regards, ann

Hi Ann,

I am aware that a petrol station on A303 is not exactly the best spot to buy a Cornish pasty.

I am looking forward to visiting Cornwall on our next trip to the isles and to trying a real Cornish pasty there. You know, I always try to taste regional food - and I am rarely disappointed.

BTW, we are frequent visitors to Brittany and our Breton friends say that they can easily communicate with the Cornish people in their native (Celtic) language. We are eager to go there.

I'm not saying that horse is or is not good too eat, just that it is culturally unacceptable to eat it in the UK. Horse meat in UK would either go to those throwing off their inhabitions or as dog food

Many years ago, I lived in Aberystwyth.
Every year a Breton onion Johnny would visit the town, the real thing with strings of onions round his neck.
They were excellent onions too.

Anyway, when he went into his favourite local pub, he and the locals could understand one another very well. It seems as though Welsh and Breton are very similar.

Day Six: What Happens If You Take Your English Lessons Lightly And: Our Second World Heritage Site

The day began marvellously. Imagine a crisp summer morning – blue sky, the crescent moon high above, the sharp morning sunlight, and a steaming hot thermal spa.

It continued badly. The hotel concierge told me the way downtown. “Just go down to the museum, take Pulteney Street, go over the bridge and there you are.” Perfect. I led our small party down to the museum, saw the road sign “Pulteney Road” and marched on. We marched and marched and saw no bridge. Besides, the neighbourhood was anything but nice. Finally, I looked on the map. Yes, we had walked up Pulteney Road. But we should have walked up Pulteney Street.

I cursed myself because of taking English lessons lightly. Never really understanding the difference between “street” and “road”. Now I understand: A street is leading downtown, while a road is going into an industrial suburb. Lesson learned. We took a bypass and eventually crossed the river on North Parade Road. The good thing: Probably the best view of Bath from that bridge.

Bath is a number one tourist destination in England and with full right. Firstly, Bath is extremely compact. Within 100 meters, there are the three main attractions: the old town, the abbey and the Roman Baths. Secondly, the Roman Baths. There are many sites in Europe (and North Africa) where you can see the remnants of Roman thermal baths. But these are just ruins. In Bath, you can see the bubbling thermal water coming up from the spring. You can see the steaming hot water running through 2000-year-old pipes. You can touch the water (although they do not advise to do it). You can smell the water. The ancient swimming pools are filled with thermal water. This is unique, even for an expert who had visited hundred of Roman sites before.

The museum is state-of-the-art. Usually we do not like audioguides. But here these devices are excellent: You choose your language (the guides have native speakers), go to a point of interest, enter a code number and listen to a very interesting story. You can “do” the baths in 30 minutes (like son # 1) or in three hours (like son # 2).

If you are fast you go to the “Pump Room”. This is not an engineering facility but a quite elegant restaurant. A good place to wait for your travel companions who take their time to examine the archaeological site more thoroughly than yourself.

www.romanbaths.co.uk

When you emerge from the Roman Baths, you are practically entering Bath Abbey, one of the better English churches. And when you leave Bath Abbey, you are in the center of Old Town with shops, pubs, a covered market etc.

www.visitbath.co.uk

Now, you CAN make a big mistake. Right in the centre of Old Town, there is a large board with a schematic map of Bath tourist attractions. This map indicates that the Royal Circus and the Royal Crescent are just a stone’s throw away. Do NOT believe it, especially on a hot day.

Instead, we walked back over Pulteney Bridge and Pulteney Street (both are architectural gems) to our hotel. There, on the car park, did I change my trousers to shorts. Then we entered “Royal Circus” into the navigation system and started the car. Air-conditioned, the car drove up steep slopes to Royal Circus and Royal Crescent where we saw totally exhausted crowds of innocent tourists lying in the grass. To be sure, Royal Crescent is just 1km away from the Abbey, but the way goes uphill. Royal Circus and Royal Crescent are architectural masterpieces and must-sees. (I do not know if the Fashion Museum is a must-see, at least I did not tell our ladies about it.)

Surprisingly, a few hours were sufficient to see the highlights of Bath, and we proceeded towards our next destination, the Cotswolds. As always in English cities, we could not find a grocery store, neither in the city centre nor in the suburbs of Bath. So, again we bought our picnic supplies at a filling station. The difference was, however, it was a filling station in the Cotswolds and it was not operated by Spar but by Marks &amp; Spencer and we got wonderful supplies for picnic.

On www.fodors.com the Cotswolds have a magical sound. This is the reason why we included this region into our itinerary. To understand the Cotswolds, imagine Beverly Hills, but spread across an area of, say, 20 by 20 km. Also realize that the Swiss Banks had their British headquarters removed from London to the Cotswolds (because most investment bankers had removed their homes from London to the Cotswolds). This explains why the snack shop of an average fillings station in the Cotswolds is operated by Marks &amp; Spencer (maybe there are also petrol stations operated by Harrods).

Anyway, we had a very pleasant picnic on Fish Hill (which is a bluff between Broadway and Chipping Campden) before we approached our Cotswolds base, the Lygon Arms in Chipping Campden.

Fodors.com helped us much to pick a base in the Cotswolds. From many posts, and especially advised by an email by flanneruk, we thought Chipping Campden would be the best base for us. Indeed, Chipping Campden is something like an ideal town in the Cotswolds. In the 13th/14th century, the towns in the Cotswolds became quite prosperous because the Cotswolds became a centre of wool trading. The wealth, however, gradually diminished, thus preventing the historical towns from being subject to modernisation and demolition. This is the main reason why they survived as quaint towns until London Yuppies rediscovered and gentrified the area.

You understand easily why. Chipping Campden is a charming town, complete with a historical market hall, an oversized gothic church (a socalled “wool” church) and a row of townhouses from all historical and architectural periods which are perfectly matching because they are all built with the same honey-coloured regional limestone.

www.chippingcampden.co.uk

Besides, Chipping Campden is a proper town with a grocery store (important for our picnics), several pubs, caf&eacute;s and an amazing number of (mostly trendy) restaurants. We had booked the Lygon Arms, a historic pub which had been extended to a fashionable, charming boutique hotel.

www.lygonarms.co.uk
Here my review:
http://tinyurl.com/65a5pj

So far for today. To be continued.

Still reading and still laughing. But on the subject of football. It is a disgrace that England fail to qualify for pretty much everything. But the words &quot;Manchester United&quot; remain a conversation opener (often wordless) all over the world from Istanbul to Hanoi.

For real sports-connectivity, though, you need to visit the sub-continent and talk CRICKET!!!

I remember a radio programme where a BBC correspondent was talking to people in Iraq.
A man took out a photograph of David Beckham and the BBC man said, &quot;Ah, Manchester United&quot;.
A little voice piped up, &quot;No, Real Madrid&quot;.
The BBC man said that he lived quite close to the Arsenal stadium and the little boy was able to name all the members of the current Arsenal team.

This is all very jolly, and WONDERFULLY well-written.

But I'm fascinated by these M&amp;S filling stations. There isn't a single one in the Cotswolds: in fact there's scarcely an M&amp;S of any sort anywhere in the Cotswolds - one of the few flies (till the Witney one opens) in an otherwise near-idyllic bottle of healing balm.

Now if you take the long way round from Bath to Chipping Campden, you'll hit M&amp;Ss on the M4 at the Leigh Delamere service area. But that's hardly your run of the mill filling station - and it's not in the Cotswolds.

Sadly, the food available at Cotswold filling stations is always the same mud-coloured jello traveller found outside Salisbury. We do have our superior fast-food joints (Daylesford Organics, just off the road from Chipping Campden to Oxford, makes Horridds look dirt cheap). But none that I know of attached to petrol stations.