Okay, this is a little bit distant as yet, but something fun to look forward to, for sure.

This fall, Culture Days will roll out September 27-29. It’s a nation-wide chance to celebrate all things Canadian, and I’m taking on the role of North Shore Ninja Writer, stealthily appearing where you least expect it at events that promote reading and writing on the North Shore. 

You can read more about my involvement in the North Shore e-post HERE, or you can sign up your event HERE. It’s a great opportunity for free local and national attention for your artsy endeavour, so make sure you give it a look! The earlier you sign up, the better your chances of getting nation-wide promotion in the Globe & Mail.

And if you’d like to have a Writing Ninja to pop in and help spread the word, you know who to call!

 

More soon…

 

~kc

Home now, but somehow I’m not really willing to let the past month go. Here’s a fond farewell to the fair skies of Edinburgh, which put on a show to bid me adieu…

An Edinburgh street near the castle.

The sun setting over Arthur’s Seat.

Someone else flying away from golden Edinburgh.

I would follow the next morning.

 

An amazing month away — 800+ pictures, an overflowing notebook, more than 400 kms of walking-and-watching on my shoes.

Thanks for sharing it with me!

 

More soon…

 

 

~kc

 

 

Spent my first day in Belfast not in Belfast at all, but back on a train heading north. I wanted a peek at the Giant’s Causeway, as it plays a role [at least in the backstory] of one of my books.

Seems I caught the best day of the year for it, or Finn McCool was in the mood for basking, perhaps, because if the sun did not come all the way out, at least it was warm. And for the proclaimed windiest part of Ireland, it was also strangely calm.

I had a good look at the amazing stones – the product of ancient volcanic activity — with the rest of the tourists, and then left most of the people behind as I headed up the Shepherd’s steps. [I wondered all the way up if anyone had ever fallen off them…but not that I could find!]

[This shot was taken from above the steps, on a far bluff overhanging the ocean. That zigzag you see in the centre is the steps — all 168 of ’em!]

After a beautiful afternoon on the wild coast, I spent the rest of the time in Belfast exploring the city, including the Crumlin Road Gaol [home, at one time, to every Irish politician worth his or her salt]. And yes, women and children were housed there, though that stopped long ago. The prison itself, however, was open all the way through the Troubles, and right into the 1990s. Over the 150-year history, 17 men – only men – met their ends here, dangling from the hangman’s rope.

This photo of Crumlin Road Gaol is courtesy of TripAdvisor

It was a breathtakingly interesting place. More horrifying to me than even Alcatraz, at least to my mind.

Another day I ended up on what I have to say was the un-spookiest ghost tour ever, in that it was full daylight on [nearly] the longest day of the year. Still the guide was excellent and I learned a lot about Belfast and its denizens, nonetheless.

It was a lovely city to visit, even hard on the heels of the exiting leaders of the G-8.

Speaking of whom… the ferry ride away from Eire was made all the more eventful by the hundreds [likely more than a thousand, but details are scarce…] of UK police officers returning home after their spectacularly uneventful duty, guarding said leaders. The ferry I was on travelled to Craigryan from Belfast,  but there were cops from all over the UK, from Scotland down to Wales filling up the waiting rooms and taking up all the lounge chairs for the speedy [and very calm] ride back.

For the first time in my life, I felt completely free to leave my computer unguarded while I ran off to the washroom!

Sad to say farewell to the beautiful island of Eirinn, but I leave with many memories of its unforgettable people and places. I’ll be back as soon as I can! Next, however, is my beloved Scotland.

More soon…

 

 

~kc

Hopped a train from Dublin to Derry — aka Londonderry, though not really to the locals.

Fascinating place — I simply loved it. My [work] goal for this trip has been to scout out some of the locations in the series I am working on right now, especially those places that I have never seen. I’m also re-visiting a number of locales to confirm details and so on, but I’ve never been to Northern Ireland, so Derry was completely new to me.

So, SO glad I came.

I’d thought to locate one significant element of the larger storyline in the North, but wasn’t sure if Belfast might be best. One look at this walled city, though, and I knew I’d found the right place.

I was really only in Derry for a single full day, so I spent the morning walking the walls of this ancient city. Originally founded by a monk [St. Columba — famous around these parts] in an oak grove, which in Gaelic is called a ‘daire‘. In its dynastic history, the city has been held to siege at least twice, burned to the ground and re-built, and the site of many of the 20th century Troubles. After one of the burnings, [which will be, a week from today, exactly 400 years ago], the crown came in to rebuild, and re-christened the place Londonderry. Judging by the lack of celebration of this auspicious event, it’s safe to say the name never really caught on with many of the locals…

After walking the walls, I did a bridge walk, crossing the three main bridges that span the Foyle river and circling the outer part of the city. It was my longest walk of the trip so far, and took more than three hours on top of the wall-traipsing in the early part of the day.

I took pictures of the bogside of the city, walked through the waterside, circled local parks — the works. Pretty sure I’d seen it all. Back to my guest house, where I discovered that the two things open in Derry on a Sunday are the churches and the bars — the one below my window stayed open, alive with karaoke versions of Flashdance and hot Tom Jones tunes until well into Monday. Unforgettable!

My last morning, as I was gathering my notes and receipts together, I remembered that I’d seen a tour of the Bogside being offered. I dug through my stuff and found the information. To go meant I’d have to take a much later train to Belfast. Hemmed and hawed a bit, not sure if it was a good decision… and went, of course. Meeting place was in front of the newly refurbished Guildhall. This is what I found inside:

When I hunted down the fellow that gives the tour, though, it turned out I was the only one who had showed up for the day. Even so, he didn’t turn me away. Off we went, together.

As we walked, I learned a little more. My guide, Gleann, was no ordinary Derryman. In fact, I had ended up on a private tour of the Bogside of Derry, given by a man with a binder full of photos from Bloody Sunday, 1972.

A man whose own father, Paddy Doherty, had been shot in the back that day, when he himself was just 8 months old. Who carried the pictures of his father being gunned down, unarmed, on arguably the worst day of the Troubles. Who took me to the very spots where thirteen men, seven of them teenagers, all of them unarmed, died that day. The most recent inquiry into events, conducted by Lord Saville took 12 years to complete, and found the actions of that day completely ‘unjustified and unjustifiable’.

 

An incredible day, one I will never forget. Thank you, Gleann Doherty, for sharing the history of your family and your city with me. Days like this one bring invaluable insights that strengthen my research immeasurably, and my story — I hope — will be the better for it.

 

More soon…

 

~kc

 

A long train journey across the body of Wales and a hop across water brought me to Anglesey; the northwestern corner of Wales and island home to Holyhead. This very cool little port town was the spot where I leapt on a mega-ferry to speed-cross the Irish Sea and make my way into Dublin.

The ferry was a big monster catamaran, and it makes the normally four-hour crossing in about two and a half. But the seas were restless that day, my friends, and those of you who follow me on twitter will know that it was an interesting crossing. Not much getting up and walking around for the passengers as we were buffetted by some pretty decent waves. It wasn’t as rough as my second crossing of the North Sea en route to John O’Groats from Orkney…but it was close. I worried for the condition of the vehicles below-decks!

In the end, grey, calm seas brought us safely into harbour in Dublin. [Kinda hard to see it, but that was my first view of Ireland!]

The last time I was in this city was in another lifetime way back in the ’80’s, and not much is the same. Dublin has grown into a bustling metropolis, bursting from its sky-high Needle outwards. [The fog had cleared by the time I got this shot!]

My first afternoon, I spent at the National Museum, hanging out with my daughter’s favourite Bog Bodies. It was these fine fellows that took my girl by the hand and led her into her love of archeology, so I had to say hello.

So, you know the story of these gents, right? Though several have been found in Ireland, they’ve actually been located across Europe and Asia — prehistoric sacrifices who have met their ends in terribly gruesome ways. But the bogs keep their secrets, and the bodies are, as you can see here, strangely and beautifully preserved.

I sat with them awhile, and thought about their families and the homes they’d left behind. Peaceful.

When it was time to head back among the living, I spent a lovely afternoon at the Porterhouse Pub, being regaled with stories by the amazing Diane Duane [author of The Young Wizards series and So Much More] and her partner in life and story-telling, Peter Morwood. We sampled the best the Porterhouse had to offer and Peter and Diane kept me vastly entertained all afternoon. I hadn’t seen them since my first year as coordinator of SiWC, and it was lovely to touch base again.

It was a too-short stay in Dublin, but I did manage [along with the lovely bog bodies and the lovelier Duane-Morwoods] get to pop in and see the Book of Kells. Which, I have to say, has gone big-time. Last time I looked at it, it was in a wee glass case in the library of Trinity College. These days, it’s a Much Bigger glass case, along with several other illuminated manuscripts and a big explanatory display. The library itself is worth the price of admission. Just a gorgeous, gorgeous place.

Time to wave goodbye to Dublin, after far too quick a visit. Next, it’s off to one of the smaller Irish cities — in the company of some decent Eireann precipitation.

 

More soon…

 

~kc

 

my dear old Swansea…

Well, yeah, that was pretty terrible. I am getting behind here, due to jam-packed travel and sometimes spotty internet. So — today, a look at Swansea before I take a paddle across the Irish Sea.

I was expecting a small seaside town, I have to say, but instead found a lovely little city on the most gorgeous stretch of beach I’ve seen in a long time. I spent my first day hiking as much of it as I could, and even though I traipsed along more than 6 miles of sand, I still didn’t manage to cover it from one end to the other.

This was the view from in front of my guest house…

I arrived at the tail end of almost two weeks of fine weather, so in spite of 30 sunscreen, I still managed to get a sunburned face — in Wales! While I couldn’t fault the view from my room, I have to admit to being a little startled one morning, being on the other side of this…

Yeah, that’s my window, there. And it’s no peeping Tom, but the very kind propriator of the guest house, just doing a little upkeep. I guess I should have figured all that scaffolding outside my window was there for a reason!

I decided I would not be conquered by Swansea Bay, and so rented a bike the next day, to follow the cycle path around the beach. I made it all the way to Mumbles, where the lighthouse was also, interestingly, encased in scaffolding. Apparently Dylan Thomas could see that lighthouse from his bedroom window!

In Mumbles I found Oystermouth Castle, a lovely old place that’s been recently restored.

 I wandered through the castle for ages, picking out my favourite features.

Wildflowers in unexpected places…

Spiralling stone steps…

and my favourite find, a garderobe! [Otherwise known as a Castle ‘privy’.] Apparently this castle was rife with them [perhaps ripe, as well!] having at least nine separate locations, all of which opened straight outside the castle walls.

I love history.

In all, the trip to Wales provided a fast-flowing font for my imagination. I enjoyed every moment, and am already weaving some of what I’ve learned into my work. The rain began to fall as I left, and Wales wept me a beautiful goodbye as I stepped into the north-bound train.

 

More soon…

 

~kc

 

 

 

Ah, Cardiff!

A great city, filled with culture enough to melt yer eyeballs, if you let it.

Home to The Doctor, Torchwood, birthplace of Roald Dahl, site of the mammoth Millennium Stadium, Cardiff Castle and so much more.

I spent several days here, walking my feet down to the bare clinking bones, exploring.

[Not actually me.]

But no sore feet for you today! Here’s a peek at a fraction of it…

This Norwegian church holds the Dahl Gallery, commemorating Cardiff’s famous BFG himself.

The nearby Dahl Plass is more famous, perhaps, for the headquarters of Torchwood, located somewhere under this Water Tower, which is also beside…

The beautiful Millennium Centre, [where some of you might know, the Rift once opened…]

[I was bummed not to get a shot of it at night — the letters glow from within…!]

Oh, and speaking of Rifts, I spied this out at the end of the pier:

Tardis!

I had a wonderful time in this beautiful city. I have to admit I did get panhandled twice in the first five minutes after I arrived, but hey — they were polite. The Welsh accent is like no other, and the city was worthy of the sore feet she gave me.

Let’s finish with a quick peek at her castle, shall we? Cardiff Castle is smack in the middle of town, an updated mostly-Norman ediface with Roman foundations. And in more contemporary times, its heavy walls sheltered many Cardiffians during the Blitz, when the city was heavily shelled. But inside the outer curtain walls lies the open castle keep, a beautiful example of Mott & Bailey structure.

 

This is _inside_ the protective curtain wall, on a little hill [of course], surrounded by courtyard. I crawled all over the thing — SO much fun. I do have to note that my giant 21st century feet did not easily fit on the tiny, steep staircases, spiral and otherwise. But I didn’t plummet even once, a point of pride, I’ll have you know!

Altogether a very satisfying visit.

After Cardiff comes Swansea, another beautiful place, and surprising on many levels. Sadly, to learn Swansea’s secrets is going to cost you another day, as I have other words that need writing tonight.

 

More soon…!

 

~kc

In the current book I am working on, a pivotal battle takes place under ground. In fact, going under the earth was one of my principle reasons for coming to Wales. This part of the world is riddled with limestone caves, but the place I am looking for is deep inside a mine. A mine which itself is a morass of caves and hidden places.

I found it. Want a peek inside?

The roof of the mine was not solid, but pocked with caves, and the different stratas of rock showed through even in the low light.

One thing I did not expect was how much the limestone muted sound under the ground. I expected the tunnels — and especially the big caves — to be echo-ey, but no. Water dripped everywhere, but I couldn’t hear the drops until they fell right by my ear.

This was no hotspring, but the water was not cold, either. Perfect room — or rather, cave — temperature.

And this shot? The route down into the depths, via ladder, ropes and chains. Spelunking was not on the menu the day I visited, and I’m pretty relieved it wasn’t an option!

Since my day in the mines, I’ve had a rather more above-ground view of Wales.

 

More soon…!

 

~kc

Yesterday, I slipped out of the Welsh countryside for some border-raiding, and found myself in a very magical part of Gloucestershire. I was not out to steal cattle or rustle sheep, but to creep into a tiny section of a protected forest — the Forest of Dean. From away, it looks little more than a clump of squarish trees in the distance…

…but take a few steps inside, and prepare to be spirited away.

It’s not just filled with mysterious moss, gnarly trees and grim deadfalls,

but also caves and caverns,

and perhaps even…aliens?

I had a wonderful wander through the part of the Puzzle Wood which is said to have inspired Tolkien, and a delightful ENTerprise it was. I’d go again in a minute.

 

From the Wood, it was a short walk to a more underground inspiration.

 

But, as always,

 

More [on that!] soon…

 

 

~kc

 

 

Well, thanks. And you?

I’m in Wales, walking like a crazy person, trying to fit as much of this countryside into my brain as I can. Atmosphere a’plenty here, I promise you.

 

Yesterday, my girl and I took what ended up being about a 25km walk through the woods and environs here around Monmouth. This is a shot we took of a man-powered ferry across the Wye. Can you see the ferryman strapped to the tow line? He makes the trip many times every day.

And today?

Today I walked in a magical wood….and down through an ancient and still-operating iron and ochre mine.

Here’s my girl, photo-bombing my underground lake shot.

Amazing. SO MUCH DETAIL to add to the series I am working on.

Happy, happy writer.

More soon….

 

~kc