I'VE BEEN TO THE MOON!

When I want to breathe fresh air, I head to the Highlands.

When I want to feel the wind in my hair, I jump on my bike.

And when I want to see the moon, I head to Newcastle.

I often stare at the moon. I marvel at this natural satellite of earth, a quarter of a million miles away. So far, and yet its gravitational pull creates our tides. It rotates at a speed that means the same face is always toward earth as it goes around us, roughly every 27 days, so we never see the other side, the so called dark side. You would either have to send a spacecraft there or travel to the moon yourself and take a look.

So, I recently had an opportunity to do just that.

For some time now an exhibition has been touring the world called The Museum of the Moon. It is a 7m diameter model, lit from inside and suspended in a large space. So far it has been displayed in the ruins of a church, over a swimming pool, inside a cathedral and a library, and many other imaginative spaces, all across the world.

The artwork is by UK artist Luke Jerram, and was created at a scale of 1cm to 5km using imagery from NASAs Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter, launched in 2010.

The detail is astonishing, and to walk around and look up at our closest celestial neighbour is breathtaking, and of course you can view the heavily cratered dark side.

As a change from our usual outdoorsey day trips that have been a common feature of our weekends of late, Pauline and I headed off to Newcastle by train as this unique moon exhibit was on display at the Life Museum there.

I didn't rate the Life Museum very highly, and didn't feel it was worth the £11 entry fee. However, there was a small exhibit of sci-fi costumes as well, so that was a fun addition. 

I had missed the Museum of the Moon when it was in Edinburgh, suspended inside St Giles Cathedral, which must have been amazing. In Newcastle it was suspended in a large empty space, so not quite the same wow effect, but seeing it was still a great experience. I stood for a while, lost in my thoughts and imagination, thinking how incredible it is that humans have walked on its surface, though only 12 have done so, and none since Gene Cernan in 1972.

Leaving the moon behind, and with a few hours to kill before the train home, having never been to Newcastle before, we set off to explore a little.

On the journey down we had chatted to a local who recommended making our way to Greys monument in the centre, and then down Grey Street. So we did just that.

Designed by Richard Grainger and John Dobson, Grey Street was built as part of Newcastle's New Town regeneration in the 1830s. A collection of grand neoclassical buildings, it curves downhill away from the monument toward the River Tyne.

Our favourite part of all this though, was a little gem hidden behind the facade of one set of buildings, and accessed through an arched alleyway. This was Grainger Market, originally a fruit and butcher market place, built in 1835, and at the time the largest covered market of its kind in the world. It is enormous, with four "streets" of all manner of small businesses, all contained within the well preserved space. How we wished for something similar back in Edinburgh.

Having had a quick lunch of a crepe at one of the stalls in the market, we headed down Grey Street to the embankment of the River Tyne, with the famous Tyne Bridge just peaking out behind the grand buildings.

Wandering east along the river, brought us to the Millenium Bridge, a tilting pedestrian and cycle bridge, which took us across to the opposite bank, and the Baltic Art Centre.

Wandering back up this side of the river we passed under the Tyne Bridge, home to the worlds largest inshore colony of Kittiwakes, though few were in residence.

We crossed back over the river via an old swing bridge, built in the mid 1800s on the site of an old Roman bridge. It is still a working swing bridge and is adorned with a lighthouse on top and set against the castle in the distance, which dates from the 1100s.

I wish now we had been able to visit the castle, as it is the place to find out all about the history of Newcastle, way back to the Roman, Saxon and Norman times. We would have to return another day, as we were out time; there was still one more important goal. We headed back up Grey Street to Olive & Bean for, you guessed it, coffee and cake, and what a treat that was.

The Museum of the Moon had been a surreal but spectacular sight to behold, and returning home late afternoon on the train, I was pleased with myself that I could now say, in the voice of Darth Vadar, I have seen the dark side.

FISH SUPPER

Some people celebrate their birthday with a party and lots of friends. Others go out for a civilised, slap-up meal, whilst some are happy to let it pass as just another day. 

I've rarely done any of the above, and this years birthday at the weekend was no exception.

Poor planning on my part saw me working on the Saturday, taking my Film Academy students through to tour the studios at the BBC in Glasgow. I can't complain though, it was a fun day out.

As we headed home on the coach I was keeping a careful eye on the time, keeping my fingers crossed there would be no delays on the motorway. I had a train to catch, and very little time between our scheduled return and the departure time out of Edinburgh Waverley.

Two hours later, having changed into my hiking gear, and picked up my loaded rucksack, I was sat sipping a cup of tea watching the sun set behind the bridges crossing the Forth from the comfort of my seat on the north-bound Scotrail train, on my way to Newtonmore.

I had to change at Perth as the train I was currently on did not stop at Newtonmore. Now, normally this is an annoyance, but on this occasion I was glad to leave an overbooked train, full of drunk and foul mouthed people, drowning their sorrows of a Scotland rugby defeat at the hands of Wales.

As the train rose higher and higher through the Drumochter Pass, snow was falling and gathering in the mountains beyond.

I pulled into Newtonmore to be met on the platform by Pauline, who had traveled up on the Friday. The temperature was well below freezing, and as we left Newtonmore the tracks under our feet became increasingly icy.

In the hills above Newtonmore we pitched our tents, then marveled at the star filled sky. As I zipped up my tent for the night, snow was gently falling.

We awoke to a light dusting of snow, and with our tents packed away, headed off toward Kingussie with a strong breeze blowing spindrift around our feet, with more snow starting to fall.

The first part of our day was following the Wild Cat Trail, a fun, marked path above Newtonmore, that both Pauline and I have walked several times with different people.

We walked along with the satisfying crunch of fresh snow under our feet, past trees that were delicately outlined with fresh snow.

The surrounding hills looked monochrome with their new dusting, highlighted now and again as the sun broke through.

Ahead lay Creag Bheag, our only hill for the day, just short of 500m high. As always, Pauline knows the best route up, and after a brief stop to refuel we were walking through woods above Loch Gynack, the path twisting through the beautiful birch trees, their lower trunks surrounded by mossy rocks. There was no snow on the ground here, in sharp contrast to just a few miles back.

The path then turned sharply south east, and rose steeply toward the summit of Creag Bheag, up a robust path, purposely made from large boulders and rocks. As we ascended the temperature dropped and snow flurries began to fall. Some parts of the path higher up were covered in ice, and as we reached the top the wind was blowing full force. We sheltered a while in a little stone built circle, with an outlook over Kingussie and across to the snow-capped Cairgorms on the horizon.

Once down, and lunch consumed, we started our descent into Kingussie. Now the snow was in full blizzard mode, but the path, then track, then road, was well defined.

In need of a hot drink it was disappointing to find everything was closed in Kingussie. Everything that was apart from the Star Hotel, caught in a time warp, with its worn tartan carpets and dark wood paneling. A request for a latte was met with bewilderment by the bar staff.

We settled on a pot of tea for two, and as our dripping wet gear slowly dried on the hotel radiators, we watched the clock slowly tick away the minutes until 4pm, when Joe's fish and chip shop would open!