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Welcome to my personal blog. Squirrel(!) is such an appropriate title for this spot on the Internet. This began as a way to share the journal from my walk across England with hubby Jan. That trip is archived here for you to enjoy (June of 2012), but now when you visit you'll read my crazy musings on everything from horses, to cars, to grammar, to books, baseball, or weasels. Don't get whiplash trying to figure out a theme; just watch out for the squirrels!

Friday, June 22, 2012

Day 12

Day 12 – To Ingleby Cross/Ingleby Arncliffe (9 miles)

Today was another sunny, beautiful day where we had to start out slathering on “sun cream” and making sure our hats were firmly on our heads. Hiking in short sleeves and short pants definitely beats any other gear we’ve brought along!
The start of a beautiful warm walk.

We started by visiting Danby Wiske Church – famous for being one of the only churches in England with no designated affiliation. The sanctuary was small but lovely and the feeling inside the church was comforting and welcoming. There were some relics left from Norman times, saved by local church members when the Romans came through. Now a large stone font and some original wooden pews still grace the church. It was a very good way to start the day.

Two pics of the church in Danby Wiske

Friendly young cows.

Look closely, the pink shirt is me -- coming over a stile. Jan's water bottle got to sit on a British fencepost.

One farmer on our route left a cooler full of drinks and treats for a few pence -- Jan got his Diet Coke and I took a pear.

We found these two lovelies and then walked right through their dressage arena!
The Blue Bell Inn in Ingleby Cross
We traveled again through farms and fields, caught some nice, flat roads and found ourselves in Ingleby Arncliffe a “suburb” of Ingleby Cross, in good time.  The two small villages are actually separate but just a quarter of a mile apart. Since our B&B in Ingleby Arncliffe wasn’t available until 4 p.m. and we arrived by 1:30, we walked to Ingleby Cross and had a pint at the local pub.  There we met the innkeeper’s four-year-old who adopted us for the afternoon—and kept us very well entertained with make believe cricket games and taking pictures with our camera.

We thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful English cottages as  we trekked back to Somerset House Farm, our B&B. We found another charming room and setting and the owner, a single young man named Ashley who’s run the place for about six years.

At one home in Ingleby Arncliffe, there was a neighborhood egg and flower exchange.

The old water tower in Ingleby Arncliffe

Somerset House Farm -- we stayed in the left hand building and ate in the house at the far center.

We ate at an inn in Ingleby Cross and were delighted to run into our favorite traveling Dutchman Mattieu. He sat with us for a while, told us about his wife and his children Laura and Florian and spoke German with us when he found out we could understand it. 
 We also sang Happy Birthday to one of a group of five young men we’ve seen on and off during the trip. The sparkler that decorated birthday cake was pretty and fun and it set off the fire alarms twice. Our waiter walked past in the din and grinned at us. “Welcome to the Blue Bell,” he said. “I don’t even pay attention to this stuff anymore.”
We had Internet service back at Somerset, but the walls were so thick in the building that we could only connect if we sat outside. It was a cold night of Internet playing—but just gave us another page in the weird wonderful story of our trip!

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