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Wandering out east on our annual pilgrimage to the solitude of Lindisfarne, we were surprised to find rather a lot of snow. It was easy to think the snow wouldn't hang around on the eastern-most feather of land, but as we hit pack-ice on the drive over the Causeway, we had to think again.
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The peace and wildness of the landscape was complete, and for four days we could do nothing but mooch through the snow, marvelling at this place.
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There were no trips to the mainland, no visits to the Ship Inn at Seahouses, and certainly no road-biking. This was wonderful isolation.
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We finally made it off the island a day later than planned in fairly heavy snow. Any later and we'd have been stuck for a week. Which wouldn't have been all bad...
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