My Favorite Country Walk to a Pub: The Bell Inn at Aldworth

One of my favorite country walks in England is a five mile loop around the Bell Inn at Aldworth. I know this part of Berkshire very well. My in-laws live in a neighboring village on the Oxfordshire side of the Thames. These rolling hills along the river are called the Goring Gap.

We usually park by a farm in Streatley and walk uphill to the Ridgeway. The Ridgeway is the oldest road in the UK, dating back to prehistoric times. Keep an eye out for horseback riders, tractors, and the occasional car. Our hardy son walked and ran 27 miles of the 87 mile Ridgeway the next day in the rain. The popular Ridgeway follows high ground to avoid the mud.

On any day of the year, England can easily be in the 50s and rainy. Luckily when our kids came to visit us for their February break, we had one dry day for our walk. Wellies (rubber boots) or hiking boots were still necessary for the footpaths on the way back to the carpark. A detailed Ordnance Survey map is a good idea too if you're walking a loop including footpaths.

Back home in New England, a blizzard was raging, but February is springtime in England. Instead of snow, there are blooming snowdrops.

About halfway through our walk, we stopped for lunch. The Bell Inn has been owned by the same family for 250 years and is located in the tiny village of Aldworth. The landlord is welcoming and has a good sense of humor. The Bell doesn't serve hot food beyond soup, but the Ploughman's Lunch (cheese, a warm bread roll, chutney, and salad) was delicious. Since it was midday, I had only a half pint of Arkells BBB.

Our teenage daughter was pleased to be legal in the UK but was too jet lagged for alcohol. Sixteen-year-olds can have beer, wine, or cider with a meal as long as they're accompanied by someone eighteen or older.

Although it was cozy inside by the fire, it can be crowded. We moved outside in the beer garden to enjoy the mild weather. Sunshine was good for the kids' jet lag too.

In the far corner of the beer garden is the secret exit to a footpath.

One of the best things about the UK is all the public footpaths crossing private lands and farms.

Since the footpath crosses through swards (Merriam Webster Dictionary retweeted this photo to illustrate the word of the day!) where livestock may be grazing, be sure to shut all gates.

The walk back to the carpark is a gentle path downhill, between the fields. After a reinvigorating week off, I'm happy to be back to work revising my young adult novel set in rural England.

Monhegan Island & New Harbor, inspirations for my novel

My love for Maine islands and harbor towns inspired me to write a contemporary young adult novel about a mainland girl and an island lobster fisherman. With my manuscript shipped out to literary agents, I'm feeling nostalgic. Two years ago, I rented a boat house apartment on Monhegan Island to gather offseason material for my work-in-progress. It's a long journey to publication, and I'm not yet anchored.

When my kids came home from college with a friend, they wanted to show her Monhegan. The ferry leaves from New Harbor, an hour drive up the coast from us. My fictional Port George was modeled on this working harbor with a bit of Port Clyde and Brunswick added to the mix. The floating dock rises and sinks with the tide, making it easier for the lobster fishermen to unload their catch.

The only way to reach Monhegan is by boat. It's ten miles out to sea and too small for a airport. Just 42 people live year round on the island. I increased the population to 200 for my fictional island because I needed more teenage characters. The largest building is a hotel.

Tourist season starts Memorial Weekend and winds down around Columbus Day. Monhegan is a rustic place to vacation, but people like us keep returning for more. In the shoulder season, most visitors are birders tracking migrations (plus one nosy writer researching her novel).

Jamie Wyeth's house was the inspiration for my character's home; it's my dream house too.

Monhegan has 12 miles of trails, scrambling up and down the cliffs and meandering through the woods. This time I was retracing my character's footsteps, remembering lines with a satisfied smile.

It was quite a workout keeping up with my fit kids but worth it for the stunning view.

After several hours of hiking, we rewarded ourselves with homebrewed root beer for the girls, stout for my son, and Quad British style ale for me. Monhegan Brewing Co also brews an excellent ginger beer for those who feel seasick.

The co-owner of the brewery hauls lobsters too; Matt answered many questions for my novel. He was busy stacking traps in the beer garden at the close of the island lobster fishing season.


It was now time for the lobsters and us to migrate back to the mainland. On the ferry ride back, the captain pointed out a bald eagle and I spotted a pod of harbor porpoises. What a perfect day!

You can read more about my novel and Monhegan Island here:

Researching a Novel on Monhegan Island (my one-week retreat)
Sunrise on Monhegan Island (artsy photos)
Port Clyde to Monhegan Island (follow up research)
Factual Accuracy in Fiction: does it matter? (writing about Maine)
Monhegan Island, Maine (a family vacation)

A Walk from Bowdoin College to the Androscoggin Swinging Bridge

Only a good friend would brave Maine at this time of year. I met Sherry during my junior year abroad in London. She's always been a game traveler. On a previous visit, we'd gone cross-country skiing in our woods, but it's been a freakishly warm winter in New England.

My house is next door to Bowdoin College, where my husband teaches Japanese and British Politics.

You might recognize my husband as Lord Grantham on Downton Abbey. Thanks to Bowdoin art professor Mark Wethli for the uncanny PhotoShop job! Yes, we are mourning the end of that gig.

Bowdoin has deeper roots in the past: it was founded in 1794. Massachusetts Hall, the oldest building on campus, dates back to when we were part of Massachusetts. Maine didn't become state until 1820.

Another old campus beauty is Searles Hall. During winter the quad is flooded to become a skating rink.

Bowdoin is located in Brunswick, the biggest town in Maine with a population of 20,000.

There are plenty of mom and pop stores like Frosty's Donuts (circa 1965).

 Keep walking, folks. We don't need a warm-out-of-the-oven wild blueberry doughnut...maybe later?

Time to cross the bridge over the Androscoggin River to Topsham, past Sea Dog Brewing.

The dam once powered the Androscoggin Mill. Now the mill houses art studios, restaurants, a flea market, an indie movie theater, our local radio station, and the winter farmers' market (on Saturday mornings).

The Androscoggin Swinging Bridge from Topsham to Brunswick, Maine

On the Topsham bank of the Androscoggin is a lovely path leading to the Androscoggin Swinging Bridge.

This footbridge was built in 1892 by John A. Roebling's Sons Co., who also designed and built the Brooklyn Bridge. No joke!

A transplanted New Yorker myself, I find this fact reassuring, despite the pronounced bounce underfoot.

Factory workers used the bridge to commute from their dormitory style housing in Topsham to the cotton mill in Brunswick.

This scenic walk is a three-mile loop from my front door.

I love my town!

Blogwatch: This post is part of Les@TideWaterGarden's Winter Walk Off. If you want to share a winter walk from your home, post it by March 19th with a link to Les. Links to more Winter Walk Off posts coming next week.

Mother-Daughter Time in California

I was surprised when my daughter asked to visit Pomona, Stanford and Berkeley on our college tour. Gemma was looking for a small liberal arts school in the mountains with active outing and nordic ski clubs and no Greek life. She would have to miss a week of high school to fly from Maine to a region she'd never seen.

I asked, "Do you want to go to college in California or do you want to visit the west coast?" When Gemma admitted to the latter, I promised to take her there after she was accepted to college. So last month we flew to San Francisco for one last mother-daughter vacation before she starts Middlebury College in February.

At Half Moon Bay, CA with my daughter and my friend's dog. Photo by Martha Enthoven Stid, our host in Menlo Park.

Middlebury admits one sixth of the freshman to start in February, allowing time for a gap term. Gemma had trekked through the Scottish highlands with her cousin and worked on organic farms in France and in New Zealand (via WWOOF). We'd reunited for Christmas in the UK with my husband's family.

After wet England, we were ready for some Californian sunshine, but somehow we brought the rain with us, nearly ending their drought! Luckily the Muir redwoods were just as lovely in a misty drizzle. We spent our first day hiking with my daughter's friend from Chewonki Semester School, whose family hosted us in San Francisco.



As the sun broke through the clouds, we hiked from Muir Beach Overlook down to Muir Beach and had a tasty pub style lunch at The Pelican Inn (his family is half British too). That's a real pelican in my opening shot. Muir Beach and the pub are on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge and up the bay.

Muir Beach

Double jet-lagged from England, I fell into the teen timezone, staying up past midnight and sleeping late.

My Snap Chat debut via Gemma.

We enjoyed cocktails and sodas at Top of the Mark, overlooking the San Francisco skyline. Our best meal out was at Range, a restaurant owned by the brother of my oldest friend. Range's chickpea fritters tasted like cheese souffle only lighter and healthier. All the ingredients were fresh and local, a joy in January. The Mission neighborhood, with its funky after hours boutiques and vibrant street art, was fun to explore at night.

My daughter revived my inner teen, suggesting we try on designer dresses at BCBG just for fun, imagining life on the red carpet. Then we rummaged through the sale racks for clothes we would wear in the real world. Stepping out of the changing rooms in our favorite dresses, we had an hilarious surprise. When Gemma leaves for college, I'll miss her laughter. It was hard enough saying goodbye to our friends in California.

When I last saw Miriam, we were at M.I.T. graduate school studying politics. There were only four women in our year so we bonded tightly. She was a fabulous cook and taught me how to make Oyakodon, a Japanese dish I still enjoy with my family. In San Francisco she treated me to excellent dim sum at Hong Kong Lounge. We reconnected like no time had passed and could have chatted for hours.

After a week of staying with friends, we pushed the boat out for the Monterey Plaza Hotel and Spa. The location, Cannery Row was the setting/title of one of Gemma's favorite novels. My dad emailed a link to a literary tour of Monterey, and we were pleased to find Doc's shack still standing. The character was modeled on a real marine scientist and friend of Steinbeck.

Our journey down the coast started out well when Enterprise Car Rental offered me a free upgrade to a BMW. Yes! It was a challenging drive in heavy traffic, thick fog, torrential rain and longer still dealing with a flat tire, but it was well worth the journey just to see the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Braying sea lions and Pacific waves breaking under our cantilevered hotel lulled us to sleep. I woke early to watch the sea otters fishing in the surf while Gemma slept in. I wasn't quick enough to photograph a pod of dolphins leaping past the pier so I phoned my daughter. She stepped out on the balcony in time to see them.

With borrowed binoculars we watched hundreds more dolphins from the shore path, passing like a parade at sunset. We reminisced about the past and discussed her plans for the future: Philosophy, Studio Arts, Psychology, Music?

Today my son and I are helping Gemma move into her dorm. I'm so lucky to have two marvelous children, and Middlebury is a wonderful school. Still, it's hard to let go.

I will cherish these memories...

My daughter at Half Moon Bay, California.

Back from England

Sorry if my absence worried you, but all is well. I was in England for the holidays with the British side of my family. Then I flew to San Francisco for one last mother-daughter vacation before she starts college in February. I'll leave California and my daughter's gap term for future blog posts.

Even without snow, Christmas is special in my husband's hometown. On Christmas Eve villagers light torches at The Catherine Wheel's firepit, many grabbing a pint of ale before or after.

The cousins were happy to be reunited for the occasion with real flaming torches.

A bagpipe player in a kilt leads the procession of hundreds through the ancient village. I apologize for my grainy iPhone photos, but even with a full moon, it was quite dark.

We crossed the Thames River and gathered round a huge bonfire to sing Christmas carols, accompanied by a live brass band. Later at night there's a midnight mass in the Norman church. My father-in-law and his mates ring the bells for services at two churches.

On Christmas morning we go to church. After listening to the Queen's speech on TV, we open presents and go for a country walk in the rain. We warm up with a hot cup of tea and Christmas cake (fruit cake with a marzipan frosting).

Christmas dinner is always roast turkey with chestnut stuffing and brussel sprouts. We pull Christmas crackers and don crowns whilst the Christmas pudding flames. You need to chew carefully to avoid biting into the lucky sixpence.

On Boxing Day (the day after Christmas) we drove to Oxford since the trains weren't running. Not much was open. England shuts down for most of the holidays. The busy university town was blissfully free of crowds. I'd spent a year there with my family researching my work in progress, a young adult novel about an American girl at a British boarding school.

The holiday lights in Oxford are marvelous. I love the expression on the woman to the right.

When the trains were back on track, we traveled an hour to London. My daughter wanted to shop on Regent (at left) and Oxford streets, and I needed to check out the holiday lights for a new scene in my novel. I'll have to draw on older memories of clubbing in London. I love my job!

That night we went to Tate Modern, a favorite museum. Then we headed next door for a delicious pub dinner of roast pheasant and a candlelit performance at the Globe's new covered theatre. Pericles is not Shakespeare's best play - it was written with a collaborator, quite possibly a young apprentice - but it was thrilling to see his work staged in the traditional manner with no electricity and ancient instruments.

We walked back over the Millennial Bridge in a drizzle, admiring the view over the Thames. Is it my imagination or is St. Paul's Cathedral not as brightly illuminated as it used to be? I like matching my reading to my travels and have been enjoying Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, a gift from my mother-in-law (thanks!) From this historical novel, I learned that architects volunteered to keep St. Paul's flame-free during the blitz. The narrative is a series of alternate histories based on the protagonist's choices, giving it an existential resonance. I often wonder what my life would have been like if my husband hadn't quit his banking job in London to pursue an academic career in the USA. Three quarters through this 600 page book, I'm loving Life After Life and would recommend it to anyone.

Henry and I toasted the new year with Brakspear Special back at the Catherine Wheel with a blazing fire in the hearth. A belated Happy New Year! I look forward to catching up with you and your blogs. Cheers!