4 May Post by Roxanne

We took cramped coaches down South and across the border. We stopped at Ruthwell Church to see the cross that has the inscription from “Dream of the Rood.” It was worn down and patched up, but stood tall in the middle of the church. One of my favorite parts of that stop was watching Rick standing beneath the great, tall cross, talking and moving his hands in his slow, smooth way that makes you hang on every word. I spent most of the time looking at the old stained glass full of bubbles, streaks, and flaws. The sun pushed through the clouds outside and lit up the glass.

Next we stopped at Hadrian’s Wall – the Roman wall built to divide Scotland and England. It used to stand 15 feet tall, with a small fortress at every mile. Now it stood about 5 feet tall and only the sheep are really kept fenced in. The group spent much of the time climbing all over the walls in the rain, pretending to fight imaginary wars.

We arrived at Wastwater in the evening. The Wastwater youth hostel sits on the shore of a lake in front of a mountain that disappeared into fog. As we got ready to check in, most of the students ran to the lake to skip rocks.

It was agreed that this was the favorite hostel so far. There are old pictures in the front hall placing the building back in the 1920’s at least. Most of the evening we spent in the library with shelves up to the ceiling lined with books from every decade that have probably been left by people over the many years of being a hostel. There are old books that smell wonderful when you flip the pages in front of your face, old 70s romances with busty ladies and big hair. Some of our favorite titles: The Stalking Man, Tom Swift and His 3-D Telejector, Island of the Lizard King, and The Case of the Long Legged Models. There were smooth, carved wooden banisters and mantlepieces. The thick wallpaper is different in every room, and in some places you can see several layers of paper peeking through. All the pianists in the group fell upon the old piano in the library. It’s out of tune and a few of the keys are broken, but somehow it still sounds perfect in this house. It sits against the flowered wall-paper, and the stand held an old copy of Dolly op. 56 by Gabriel Fauve. The bedrooms are spacious, even with 14 bunkbeds crammed in. The outside is old brick with black lacy edging and V striped patterns in the wooden sections.

The old sign outside:

This Youth Hostel is one of many, both in this country and abroad, where young people, regardless of race or creed, may spend the night. The buildings are diverse in character but they have a common purpose: to help all, especially young people of limited means, to a greater knowledge, love, and care of the countryside.

Signing off,
Roxanne