Welcome to Steve's Adventures & Travel

Something strange always seems to happen to you, seriously write it down! I've heard this a few times, but I prefer to substitute the word strange with interesting…

I love to travel, explore, try new things, see new places, I always have done. I hope to use this blog to share a few of my more memorable experiences with you. I hope you enjoy reading about the ups, the downs, the sometimes random but always worthwhile experiences that travel has brought me.

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Every County in England - Part 13: Northamptonshire

< Part 12                                          Part 14 >


Every County in England - Part 13: Northamptonshire


Sitting roughly half way between London and Birmingham Nottinghamshire is crossed by busy roads, ones I’ve traveled many times before. From the viewpoint of the motorway the county appears distinctly bland. It would’ve been easy to dismiss the county but with a few days left until needing to return home I decided to give the place a shot.

The guidebook almost entirely ignored the county, listing only the Silverstone F1 racing circuit as a worthy attraction. Silverstone straddles N’hants/Bucks county border so was an easy first stop, albeit a pointless one. Arriving it became clear that not only was the centre nor open but there was no obvious vantage point of the track. The only other visitors were a couple standing on a wall trying to see something, but they appeared to give up very fast and left. I aborted as well and headed into Northampton.

I had a room booked in a flat in the town centre, overlooking a river. This wasn't the most serene riverfront, the murky water slowly passing rusty shopping trolleys and a large brewery. The town had a fairly neglected feel in comparison to the well kempt communities closer to London, but with that came cheaper homes. My host, like many others in town, made the 2hr commute into London each day from here to save on extortionate city prices.

The town used to be a major centre for show manufacturing. The short walk into the town passed many of the now disused show making factories. The town is centred around an impressive market square, ringed by some interesting buildings. The square was only partially filled with stalls but still has a bustling and lively atmosphere. It made a nice place to stop for a coffee and lunch.

One of the more prominent landmarks for the town is a 400ft concrete pillar. This out of place oddity is the National Lift Tower, all that remains of a high speed elevator testing facility. Now a protected landmark the tower sits completely void of function within a housing estate. The locals jokingly refer to it as the Northampton Lighthouse, a nod to the town being about as far from the coast as possible within England. 

I spent the last day exploring the counties more rural areas. Meandering through the back roads I made my way to the Lyveden Estate. 

Tucked away amongst the fields here sits an unusual sight. A half built Elizabethan mansion sits amongst a partially landscaped garden, complete with moat.

This isn’t a ruin; in fact it was never completed. The builders of this lodge simply downed tools in 1605, but why?

The owner was Sir Thomas Tresham who took wanted his summer lodge to incorporate detail and inspiration from his catholic faith. The Tresham family were involved in the gunpowder plot and charged with treason; Sir Thomas’s head was left on a spike in a nearby town. The builders realising that they would not be paid and not wanting association with the treasonous family simply left. Remarkably the unfinished property remains in excellent condition to this day giving a glimpse into the building techniques used all those years ago. 

My time in Northamptonshire had come to an end, for now my trip had too. With a busy schedule ahead my quest to visit every county will be on hold for a while. I’ll pick up the trail again later in the year for the next round of adventures.

Northamton Guildhall

Northampton Market

The River Nene

Northampton 'Lighthouse'

The unfinished Elizabethan lodge at Lyveden

The Lyveden Estate moat

Rural Northamptonshire


< Part 12                                          Part 14 >

Every County in England - Part 12: Buckinghamshire

< Part 11                                            Part 13 >


Every County in England - Part 12: Buckinghamshire


Arriving in Aylesbury from Oxford doesn’t give the best first impressions of Buckinghamshire. After Oxford’s grandeur the grim 60’s sterility of Aylesbury comes as a stark contrast, so does the seemingly drab countryside.

Buckinghamshire fills a convoluted splat of land within London’s commuter belt and is geared far more to the needs of the busy residents than to tourists so it’s no surprise that Aylesbury feels rather bland. The town sits central to the county so seemed a good place to start.

There really was very little incentive to linger however enticing the concrete utilitarian architecture may have been and I was keen to delve deeper into the county. I had only one day here so wanted to see as much as possible for the short time.

To the south the landscape becomes far more appealing. The Chiltern Hills rise and a scattering of parklands and country homes warrant a visit, including the Prime Minister’s country retreat. I made the less obvious choice of heading north. This was less to do with any specific attraction but more that I had an AirBnB booked in Northampton.

My first port of call was the town of Buckingham. It’d be fair to assume it would be the county town however when the railways bypassed the town and Aylesbury swelled in size and stature Buckingham was left behind. Today the town remains as a very small market town. Despite giving its name to the Queen’s palace in London the town is very compact and quiet but still a pleasant stop off point.

Leaving the town things suddenly took an unexpected change of character. Without much warning the low key fringes of the town expanded into a grand tree lined avenue with a large triumphal arch at its head. I was approaching the grounds of Stowe House.

This vast country home is largely used as an expensive school today but the grounds are open to the public. I parked up and followed a guided trail around the immense lawns and carefully landscaped gardens. Although the full spring foliage hand not yet come through the views were still inspiring and ever changing. Follies, shrines and temples had been carefully built to provide interest in the landscape.

Although I could have easily spent all day here I still had a place on my list to visit before heading to Northampton. I was heading to the sprawling town of Milton Keynes.

Milton Keynes was little more than farmland until the 50s when urban planners picked this spot to build a new town to house some of the Londoner’s who’d been made homeless during the blitz. This was to be a new and modern utopia, far removed from the inner city crowded slums. They plotted out a grid of streets, breaking far away from the winding lanes of old. There was to be ordered clusters of homes with covered walkways to the large central core. The vision may have been idyllic but today’s reality is more depressing.

The town now feels distinctly dated, the sterile and faded concrete and uniformity now feels more akin to a Soviet era town than that of an English commuter town. Milton Keynes is still very much alive and kicking but with retailers and businesses largely clustered on the fringes the centre feels neglected and sparse. The courtyards and walkways are now largely empty and filled with scrubby overgrowth. Small shanty communities of the homeless had set up tents in the many underpasses highlighting that this urban ideal had perhaps not been the success that had been hoped for.

To the edge of the town centre a large half dome houses a ski slope. Snow is generated and spewed onto a slope within the building. This seemed the busiest part of the town, I imagine that the early town planners back in the 50s would have never imagined that the main hub of activity in their town would be a ski slope!

I felt I needed to end my short venture into Buckinghamshire with a return to peace and quiet so where better than the Peace Pagoda, situated just outside of Milton Keynes.

Sat in a quiet park encircling a set of lakes is one of the UKs largest Buddhist shrines. The pagoda sits atop a small hill and provides a peaceful vantage to absorb the view and reflect. Nearby a tree has been adorned with many ribbons and trinkets, memorials left by visitors. Each memento had a story to tell, a child lost far too soon, a parent, a sibling, a friend, a beloved pet, thousands of ribbons marking thousands of individual stories from past visitors to this tree.

I finished the day with a walk around the lake. Buckinghamshire had been an eclectic mix, the old to the new, the bustle of Aylesbury to the peace of this park. I’d enjoyed my busy day of exploration but was now looking forward to the next stop Northampton where I’d be leaving the South of England and entering the Midlands. It was time to head on to my next stop.

Buckinghamshire County Council, Aylesbury

Central Buckingham

Stowe Gardens
Stowe Gardens


The Milton Keynes 'Pyramid'

The Peace Pagoda


< Part 11                                            Part 13 >

Every County in England - Part 11: Oxfordshire

< Part 10                                          Part 12 >

Every County in England - Part 11: Oxfordshire


Grand universities, filled with gowned students, libraries brimming with academic knowledge and a skyline of spires are the images that spring to mind when the city of Oxford is mentioned. I’d come to have a little taste of this fabled city myself, but also to see what else the county of Oxfordshire has to offer.

In a break from tradition, instead of allocating a minuscule amount of time to visit a county, I’d gone for a slightly longer stay, still far too short but rather than the usual half day per county I had three days. I’d also ditched the notion of completing the whole of England in one loop. Yes it was always ambitious to say the least, but unexpected commitments reared their head and cut the whole trip short by three weeks. The rest of the trip will be completed in more leisurely batches.
 
I arrived in the far south-west of the county amongst its rolling chalky hills. I’d chosen this as a starting point as there is an ancient but often overlooked monument nestling amongst these hills. High up on a hillside sits a gargantuan chalk carving of a horse dating back over 2000 years. No one knows why it was created and I was very keen to see it for myself and ponder its mysteries. There was just one slight problem, the hilltops were still blanketed with snowdrifts and a thick drizzly mist was clamped low over the whole region. There was no chance of seeing anything!

I quickly replanned and set out for a 13th Century tithe barn instead. These barns were a common feature of medieval England. Peasant farmers were required to bring 10% of their crops as a church tithe to be stored in these large church owned buildings. Today very few exist; this one was particularly well restored. Well I think it was anyway, it sits unattended and unlit. In the dim light it was very hard to make out any of the features but the interior was still impressive with towering twisting beams and joists.

This part of the county was historically part of Berkshire but was transferred to Oxfordshire in the 70s as part of a nationwide shuffle of borders. The border previously followed the River Thames which meanders along its wide fertile river plain before heading towards London. This was also the Saxon border between the Kingdoms of Sussex & Mercia. Further west the county rises into the stunning limestone Cotswold Hills, I’ll be visiting them in adjoining counties at a later time, for this trip I still had the city of Oxford to visit.

The city has an unusual layout. At its core a tightly packed mesh of lanes and ancient university buildings huddle together, a ring of grassland and rivers separates this elite core from some surprisingly grim industrial suburbs. The whole plan seems designed specifically to make driving problematic, an unusual situation for a major car production centre, Minis & BMWs are manufactured here in Oxford. The city is very small, just 150’000 people call it home, yet its esteemed universities and huge tourist appeal bring diverse crowds into the city, many arriving in a flotilla of daytrip coaches from London.

I’m not one for joining a herd of tourists so I headed into the city with no plan. There are so many sites in such a small space that I decided to just meander through the alleys and see where I ended up.

The city was well set out for simply wandering about, the centre is packed all manner of diversions and helpfully there were information boards everywhere giving helpful information on the various sights. The golden stone buildings decorated with intricate carvings and spires brought inspiring views with every turn. I decided to get my bearings from one of the best views in the city, from the spire of the Church of St Mary the Virgin.

To reach the top a series of steep and very narrow spiral staircases wound ever upwards until finally reaching the walkway around the spire. The view was spectacular. Stretched out on all sides the cityscape unfolded. From this vantage point you could get a clearer view into a few of the universities quadrangles, grassy courtyards enclosed by ornate medieval buildings. Just to one side sat the Radcliffe Camera, an impressive domed academic library, unfortunately shut to visitors. I’d made the foolish mistake of not buying a guide before climbing so I had to rely on my phone’s map to identify the numerous landmarks. I must have looked very odd stood on top of a church tower staring at my phone!

After returning to ground level and grabbing a very tasty bite to eat at an international street food market I headed to some more indoors attractions. The weather had started to turn so it was time to pick a place to visit.

The obvious choice was the Ashmolean Museum, housing a vast collection of art and antiquities from around the globe. The collection is of a scale and quality you’d expect from a major city like London, far more impressive than I’d expect, the free entry also surprised me. I was particularly taken by a vast Elizabethan tapestry map depicting Oxfordshire and its surrounding counties. Very apt for my trip!

A short break in this city had certainly whetted my appetite for more, it’s certainly a place I’ll return to. After such a great city I needed to bring my expectations back down to a level again before moving on to the next county. There was a less academically or historically impressive attraction to see hidden away in the city suburbs.

Turning into a nondescript street of Victorian terraced houses a very unexpected sight comes into view. A giant shark buried head first in the roof of a house! It arrived in the 80s and has remained here ever since.

So now it’s onward for a few days in Buckinghamshire, will this impress just as much? There’s only one way to find out!
The Medieval Tithe Barn

Areal view over Oxford's university complexes, All Soul's College in the foreground.

The Radcliffe Camera

Buildings of central Oxford

The Heddington Shark

< Part 10                                          Part 12 >

Every County in England - Part 10: Surrey

< Part 9                                            Part 11 >

Every County in England - Part 10: Surrey


I’ve driven through Surrey many times, to London, Heathrow Airport, Gatwick Airport or to the channel tunnel, rarely have I stopped there. I wasn’t overly sure what to expect once I strayed off the crowded motorways spreading like a web from London. Surrey isn’t bustling with tourist attractions, the wealthy residents living in their bespoke gated mansions probably wouldn’t warm to coach loads of tourists infesting their villages after all. It’s these busy roads and trains that I’ve used many times that make Surrey one of the most expensive places to live in the country, in fact it has the highest GDP of any county with wealthy commuters taking advantage of the proximity to the city and green countryside.

In the 60s Surrey lost large areas to neighbouring Greater London. Many of its larger towns were absorbed by the new county. What remained of Surrey largely sat right in the Green Belt, a protected band of countryside, heavily restricted from developments. Beyond the forests (Surrey is the most heavily forested county in England), heaths and farms, the sprawl recommences as London’s commuters overspill into satellite towns.

I decided to pull into a motorway service station and seek inspiration from the brochure rack. It was underwhelming. There were vast selections of attractions in neighbouring areas but only one leaflet for Surrey. Well I say one leaflet; actually it was about a thousand of the same leaflet taking up two racks. The leaflet was for National Trust properties in the county. This did seem promising, the National Trust has many interesting historical sites open to the public and I conveniently had a membership card, perhaps I was in luck.

Alas, the leaflet was next to useless. It helpfully listed the addresses for numerous sites but failed entirely to describe or detail anything about them. It was left entirely to guesswork to figure out what was at these locations, were they elaborate mansions, gardens or merely muddy car parks? Who knew?

I just plumped for an address that looked vaguely central and hopes for the best. At very least I could look out for diversions along the way. I didn’t have far to travel until the first diversion emerged.

No sooner had I left the motorway I started to see tourist signs pointing towards a vineyard. I was aware of British wines but somehow it hadn’t connected in my mind that therefore there would be vineyards tucked away amongst the English hills, sun drenched French valleys are more what spring to mind.

Turning off the road into the vineyard’s car park ‘sun drenched’ certainly wasn’t the best way to describe the place. The sky was building with ominous clouds and the bare vines marched in rows over the sodden fields. A large visitor’s centre had been set up, although I was one of only half a dozen visitors this day. The inside was given over to a sparse information board with rudimentary information on wine production and a large shop selling overpriced tat. Central to this sat a large glass roofed atrium with a side room selling bottles of wine. I really didn’t want to spend my life savings on paperback listing grape varieties nor did I want to take out a mortgage to buy a souvenir so I retreated to the car. Inexplicably the car park was decorated by two life-size colourful statues of cows. I never found an explanation for this.

Back on the road the sat-nav was insistent on routing me via the motorway so I ditched it and just meandered along the back roads. The motorway is a bland affair, monotonous trees & soundproof fencing for mile after mile. As is so often the case by simply taking the back roads and allowing yourself to get lost you are rewarded with some gems.

The countryside here is liberally scattered with charming well kept villages. Old cottages with well kept gardens and rambling old inns nestled amongst the trees in settlements brimming with character. The tea shops & antique stores here were all well beyond my meagre budget but window shopping is free so I enjoyed a slow paced afternoon moseying about these back lanes. 

To end the day I decided to make the effort to actually find the National Trust location I’d selected earlier. The road led me up into the woodlands to a small car park. It transpired that this was indeed one of those National Trust places that just involved a muddy car park and some woodland walks. I was pleased I’d not pegged all my hopes on this location however it was still worth exploring. The woodlands were pleasant but unremarkable; the place really came to life upon exiting the trees. From this hilltop the whole county opened up ahead, the view over the gentle landscape bathed in the low suns last rays. It was a very pleasant way to end my day in Surrey. The county had welcomed me with low expectations but left me with wanting more. Yet again I was leaving a county far too soon. 








< Part 9                                            Part 11 >

Every County in England - Part 9: London

< Part 8                                            Part 10 >

Every County in England - Part 9: London

I was not looking forward to London. Don’t get me wrong, it is an enticing place to visit, however as part of a lengthy road trip it’s crowded streets and extortionate prices were not appealing. It’d be easy enough to bypass the city and dip into the county of Greater London from somewhere around the periphery but for a small but terribly annoying anomaly. Buried deep within the great metropolis lies England’s smallest County; The City of London. Surprisingly a square mile of bustling streets around St Paul’s Cathedral stands separate as its own county, to complete my challenge I had no choice but to dive into the urban core.

Approaching the city from the east was new for me and it wasn’t long before I was completely lost in the twisting and incomprehensible streets. London was never designed with cars in mind; it just grew and absorbed towns and villages in every direction like a sponge. The resulting cityscape now has many diverse centres but lacks a definitive core. I pulled over in Canary Wharf to plan a route deeper into the city.

A century ago Canary Wharf was one of the busiest ports in the world, as ships grew in size so the port moved to deeper waters and the area was converted into a forest of skyscrapers in the late 80s, now forming one of two major financial districts in the city. Urban regeneration like this is very common in the city. Land is at a huge premium and the city is hemmed in on all sides by the greenbelt. A wide swathe of protected rural land encircles the city in an attempt to stop the type of sprawl that blights many cities worldwide. The effect is a condensed city with areas like these docklands being snapped up by hungry developers to be transformed from crumbling dereliction into upscale offices and apartments.

Heading further into the city this phenomenon became very apparent. The second financial centre came into view to reveal a surreal skyline of crooked & twisted shapes. The skyscrapers wedges into oddly shaped parcels of land and crowding around ancient steeples and spires, St Paul’s Cathedral taking centre stage.

The great cathedral has a lot more influence on the skyline than is first apparent. The iconic dome is so revered in national psyche that sight-lines radiate from it that are protected from development. From various vantage points around the city a clear view of the dome must be maintained. Developers have got around this by constructing wildly distorted towers to dodge obstructing the sight-lines. To the south of the river London’s tallest building ‘The Shard’ juts upwards like a giant fragment of glass, its lean designed to keep one of these sight-lines clear.

I parked up near the cathedral and set off towards the river. I had a few things I wanted to buy in a travel shop near Trafalgar Square, a short ride on the tube away, but thought a walk along the Thames would be more interesting.

From where I stood I could see the famous Tower Bridge to one side & London Bridge to the other. Despite drawing crowds of tourists London Bridge is desperately dull. It is a simple affair of grey concrete. This modern crossing replaced an equally dull bridge which was bought and installed by a town in Arizona. Allegedly the mayor thought he was buying the impressive Tower Bridge. Whether that is true or not is debatable but if you happen to be in Arizona you now have the chance to cross a bridge that once stood here in rainy London.

I crossed the river on the Blackfriars Bridge, adjoined by the world’s largest solar bridge. Rows of solar panels looked up hopefully at the weak sun, covering the entire span of the railway bridge.

From here I had only a short walk towards Westminster. The South Bank is a major arts centre with galleries and street performers lining the river front. The lively atmosphere provided a welcome contrast to the brusqueness of the financial districts. Just around a bend in the river the Houses of Parliament came into view, well they sort of came into view.

The symbol of London, Big Ben, was wrapped in scaffolding whilst workers busied themselves with repaired. To be accurate Big Ben is actually the large bell that chimes from within the tower but colloquially people around the world associate the name with the whole bell tower. Westminster Bridge was rammed full of tourists trying to get the best selfie in front of the landmark. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them having travelled from all points of the globe to return with a souvenir shot of a building site.

Nearby Trafalgar Square was no better. Here yet another tourist mecca had been rendered off limits. Usually the square is a lively and vibrant place to enjoy the cities atmosphere, the mighty column topped by Nelson surrounded by gargantuan lions and fountains. I found the square today ringed by metal railings and filled with utilitarian marquees. It appeared that there had been a race earlier in the day and the square was being used as a marshalling ground. I couldn’t help but wonder why one of the empty greens in a nearby park hadn’t been used. I drew my attention to the ‘fourth plinth’. It was hard not to draw attention to it. The corners of the square each contain a plinth topped by a regal statue, except for this fourth empty plinth. Since 1998 artists have been commissioned to produce a sculpture for the plinth. It is currently the turn of David Shrigley with his piece ‘Really Good’. A large hand with a seven metre tall thumb pointing skyward in an exaggerated thumbs up gesture. It is not clear what the thumbs up is directed at, but I guess that is the point of art, perhaps we’re supposed to judge ourselves what is ‘really good’. I judged that the shut square most definitely was not really good.

Luckily the travel shop was very close now. I get slightly excitable when confronted by a shop full of travel books and maps. It does seem slightly ironic that I was sat in the middle of a major tourist destination with the intention of spending the rest of the day reading books about everywhere that wasn’t London. That was unashamedly what I did, coffee in one hand and a room full of maps to browse, bliss.
St Paul's Cathedral

Canary Wharf's Traffic Light Tree art instillation

The Houses of Parliament

'Very Good' in Trafalgar Square

The London Eye, on the South Bank

< Part 8                                            Part 10 >

Every County in England - Part 8: Kent

< Part 7                                            Part 9 >

Every County in England - Part 8: Kent

The White Cliffs of Dover symbolise the start or end of a journey to England. These shores have seen the arrival of both friend and foe for millennia, sitting just 20miles from the French Coast. Although I was midway through my travels, the iconic while cliffs seemed an essential place to visit before looping back towards a London.

Arriving in Kent from the West doesn’t bring you out into archetypal landscapes you may expect. The scenery here is stark, almost otherworldly. I’d entered the county at the expanse of shingle making up the Dungeness peninsular. Small battered shacks littered the desert-like vista. On the horizon loomed the menacing mass of a nuclear power plant, the giant pylons marching in orderly rows towards it. I really know how to pick great places to visit! I wasn’t alone, a steam train full of happy day trippers came chuf-chuf-chuffing past me. Despite the power plant this was actually a remarkable landscape, unlike anywhere else. Approaching the top of the peninsula two lighthouses came into view. I was hoping to climb the older of the two but guess what..... it was shut till March. I’m beginning to get a theme here! The tourists who’s now disembarked the train clearly felt disappointed too. They were milling aimlessly about the shingle, shivering.

Pushing on towards Dover the landscape returns to the more traditional arrangement of quaint villages nestled amongst the rolling green fields. The villages here hold a fairly unique sight, joining the church steeples are the spires of oast houses. Looking like upturned ice cream cones these unique buildings were designed to dry hops for nearby breweries. Today most of these buildings have been converted into expensive homes.

Reaching the port towns of Folkestone and Dover things become less quaint. Here at the closest point between the UK & mainland Europe ferries ply endlessly back and forth across the channel and traffic rushes for the channel tunnel. This area regularly tops lists of the worst place to live in the country and the area has a distinct border atmosphere. Rough around the edges and bustling with trucks, impatient travellers and currency exchange signs. Entering Dover the grey apartment blocks and the clutter of the port impede the view of the White Cliffs.

Standing sentinel over the scene is the impressive Dover Castle. This vast medieval fortress was built by the Normans, clearly keen to ensure they were the last invaders of this island. The coast here is pockmarked by military structures covering every era since. Secret tunnels, lookout towers, castles, gun emplacements, radar towers all stare out towards France marking centuries of conflicts. As has been the case for most of this journey it was evident that I needed vastly more time than I currently had. I would have to return to explore more fully but for now I had some cliffs to see.

The visitor centre up on the cliffs was filled with people sheltering from the light drizzle outside, the path transformed into a sticky quagmire. There was a fantastic view back towards the castle, over to France and the busy port below. Actually the view took in everything apart from the cliffs themselves. I guess this was obvious in hindsight. A couple approached me, clearly having made the same mistake. They announced loudly, “We’re from Minnesota so we need to get to the bottom of the cliff, where do we go?” I’m not sure why this geographical information was necessary but I made the mistake of saying I’d been to Minnesota. One thing is very true when you travel alone, you don’t stay alone for long and now I had a pair of Minnesotans shadowing me as we shuffled  through the mud towards the cliffs. I was getting increasingly concerned that at this rate the fastest way down was soon to be in a muddy sweat right over the edge. My prompt to abort and return to the car came with the simultaneous splat as both of my newfound shadows face planted the mud. 

There really was far more to be seen here but time was running short. With some very wet & dirty trousers to clean and a drive into London tomorrow it was time to retreat to a hotel for the night. The rest of Kent will have to wait for another day.
The new Dungeness Lighthouse

Huts on Dungeness

The old Dungeness Lighthouse

A Kentish Oast House

Dover Port 
The White Cliffs of Dover



< Part 7                                            Part 9 >