Disaster!

After almost 3 years of loyal service, our trusty little Apple Macbook finally had a hiccup. A big one. Since the start of the year Bec has been working on a special DVD project to celebrate Kath's 30th birthday - a chronicle of the trips we took together while Kath was living in England. It was finally all done a fortnight ago, but it seems the final effort of compiling the DVD was too much for the Mac's Seagate hard drive, which shortly after refused to produce anything other than ominous ticking noises.

"Oh well" we hear you say, "you guys would have backed up all your stuff regularly, so no big deal". Well, ummm... We last backed up in January this year. That means we've potentially lost ALL our digital photos from Iceland, Marrakech, Carcassonne, Bletchley Park, Rutland and the Peak District. About 1000 in all we estimate. Damn and blast.

A trip to some expert data-recovery people confirmed that the drive was indeed cream-crackered. They could attempt a difficult and dangerous "spindle swap" operation but chances of recovery would be slim, and the cost of finding out would be steep. We've declined this option and will be looking at other companies for a second opinion, as there is no shortage of disaster-recovery specialists around the country. We're clearly not the only ones not backing up often enough!

As of now, a new brutal backup regime is swinging into place. We're talking multiple backup disks, periodic copies, automatic internet uploads, the works. Remember people, if your stuff doesn't exist in at least two places, it doesn't exist!

Take a Peak, Part 2

Monday morning, another monster Full English and we were on our way to one of the country's finest stately homes. You might remember Chatsworth House from such films as: Pride and Prejudice (2005) with Keira Knightley and The Duchess (2007), also with Keira Knightley. She must be well acquainted with the residents, the 12th Duke and Duchess of Devonshire.


We toured the extensive gardens first. Visible from a considerable distance, The Cascade is an incredible water feature commissioned by the First Duke for the usual reason - to impress his guests. Water is stored in a man-made lake high behind the house, and comes down through a pipeline, off the (artificial) waterfall just visible at the back, optionally tumbling down the roof of the Cascade House (it can even be made to come out of the floor and ceiling inside). From there, it descends 24 stone steps of varying height and texture, so that there is a symphony of splashes. The amount of water used would make a Melbournian need a quiet sit-down and a biscuit, so it's rarely turned on. By complete fluke we happened to be present at one of the few times a year when it's given the full monty, Cascade House roof and all, and very impressive it was too. Hot tip to see the Cascade in action - Bank Holiday weekends in May.


The entire area around the house was quite literally knocked into shape by legendary 18th-century landscape architect Lancelot "Capability" Brown, who was employed by the 4th Duke of Devonshire. Brown didn't like the positioning of the nearby village of Edensor, so he had it moved. As one does. Similarly, he had the course of the River Derwent changed to make the views to and from his "park" more agreeable. Here's Johnny doing his best "Mr Darcy waiting for Miss Bennet", with Capability's park stretching out behind.


The 6th Duke of Devonshire was not content with the grand vistas, and engaged another gardening genius, Joseph Paxton, in 1826. Paxton, as far as we can tell, was given a blank cheque and went completely ballistic, not only creating giant fountains, greenhouses, and extraordinary rock gardens, but inventing new machinery in the process. Some of the stones in his rockery weigh several tons, so Paxton created a machine which could pick them up and delicately put them in exactly the right position.


Of Chatsworth's 126 rooms, less than a quarter are visible on the public tour. But it's still an incredible visit, if in that slightly strange "it's really fancy, but I'm not sure I'd actually want to live in it" way. The interior drips with priceless artwork and elaborate furniture, while some of the painted ceilings are Sistine Chapelesque. Our favourites were the library and the dining room - elegant and spacious:

And then, in true Jane Austen fashion, we took our carriage, and withdrew to London.

Take a Peak, Part 1

A couple of weeks ago, if you'd asked either of us about England's Peak District you would have got an answer along the lines of "umm, it's in the middle somewhere, and ummm <cue frantic Googling>, it's more peaky than the Lake District, which, in contrast, probably is a bit more lake-y" . Despite knowing very little about it, we knew our time in the UK would not be complete without visiting. The second May Bank Holiday was a perfect opportunity.

Like the Lakes, the Peak District is a magnet for Serious Walkers aka Red-Socks, who like nothing more than slamming down 2000 calories of Full English, loading up the 60-litre Karrimor with a couple of sandwiches, and heading out for a bracing 10-mile hike along something called Willey's Willie or Knobgoblin Pass. Indeed some people go to the Peaks for a whole week with a book written by a fellow nylon-fan and do nothing but:
Strenuous; 8-10 hours; Frequent precipices; Unpredictable conditions; Inform authorities; Update will beforehand; walks every single day. But that's not really our thing. Instead we chose a two-hiker-icon, 3-hour "pleasure walk" along a ridge from a book our lovely B & B lady found for us. We figured we'd stomp that in no more than 4 hours and have time to call in to at least one other of the Northern Peak District attractions.

Perhaps we were a little naïve, but the extremely warm conditions turned the pleasure walk into a death march. The mercury was soaring into the upper half of the 20s (don't laugh unless you've experienced this in the UK) and the cheerful directions were always light on the detail when you really needed it most. These authors must go on a special "How to be Specific In Your Vagueness" course before writing - together with their "Scale Is For Losers" map-making colleagues. At the 3-hour mark we were actually only half-way around the loop, but convinced ourselves that our frequent photo-stops were the culprit. After all, it was absolutely stunning, with a clear view right the way back to our starting point, the village of Edale on the valley floor.

Bec also took what could well be her Photo Of The Year: Johnny taking a breathtaking leap off a rocky crag. Taken with a point-and-shoot digital camera with the usual annoying button-to-shutter lag, this was a genuine one-shot wonder!


We took some time out next to a lovely waterfall before taking a wrong turn and playing chicken with a family of sheep on a goat-track. How agricultural! At last we were on the descent, but even this was strenuous, as it frequently criss-crossed the babbling waters of the Crowden Brook, requiring combinations of careful footwork and energy-sapping jumps to make progress.

When we finally rejoined civilisation, we were dismayed to see the sign pointing back to Edale - still a mile and a half's stagger away! Eventually we slithered into The Old Nag's Head back in the town, some six hours after setting off. Our other plans for the day were shattered (as were we!), but a quiet pint by the river helped to compensate!