Days 147-157: Manchester, Yorkshire Dales and Lake District, England

Manchester is a strange city.  The modern city has its roots in the industrial revolution, and this working class, industrial heritage dominates the cityscape even now.  The city is largely grey and brown, the muted colours of brick, certainly not beautiful, but handsome, possibly even striking.  In a head-down, no-nonsense, stark Victorian kind of way.

The city's 19th century foundations are now decked out in the trappings of the contemporary working class- chain pubs, gambling halls and graffiti.

Then, least where you would expect it, there is a vibrant gay community, a whole section of the city devoted to community parks, rainbow flags and gay bars.  The monosyllabic bar names- flesh, crunch, queer- a bold exclamation of liberal thinking and civil rights among the tired, water-stained brickwork.

On to the Yorkshire Dales then, one of England's most scenically stunning areas.  The hills are stacked on top of each other in neat layers, gently undulating from one peak to the next.  Fields are neatly sectioned off with stone walls, of indeterminate age, the farms extending up to all but the highest hills, when the stone walls finally relent and give way to a rugged mix of heather, rocks and misty rain.

The Lake District is the most famous of England's holiday destinations, with its towering fells and icy blue lakes.  Unfortunately, this also means that it is packed with holiday-makers, choking the roads, filling the pubs and booking out the campsites.  But you can always find a room for rent in a local village pub, and fuelling up on a genuine full English breakfast before a day's tramping, followed by a replenishing ale or 2 back at the pub is not a bad way to see the country.