Travels with Spaniels: A cable car, an English mayor and a noisy shunting locomotive

Most of our overnights in the Baltic states have been in remote forest areas where the only sound, certainly lately, has been the rain falling on Florence's roof which, strangely enough, can be quite soothing when you are drifting off to sleep. However, last night we were in the city of Riga and things were not so quiet. More on that anon.

We imagined pouring boiling oil down on attackers

Yesterday we awoke by the side of a lake to persistent rain which obviously wasn't going to ease off any time soon. We found a track alongside the edge of the lake where we could walk the spaniels, splashing through standing water in the ruts along the path. On our return we gave them a game of ball to wear them out a bit before packing up and setting off for the town of Sigulda where there was a promise of more castles.

We were not disappointed. The medieval castle, begun in the 13th century, was built by our old friends the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, whom we had come across in previous places. Think of them as a version of the Knights Templar who instead of going off on crusades to the Holy Land, preferred to butcher pagans in the Nordic countries. Large parts of the castle have disappeared over the centuries not least because of the various conflicts that have engulfed this part of Europe.

Those Livonian knights had big bottoms

Since Latvia regained its independence from the USSR a real effort has been made to try and show the castle as it would have been in its heyday. They have done this by constructing wooden replacements for the original stone walls so you can still stand forty feet up and look through an arrow slit at potential invaders. These are mostly Far-Eastern coach parties these days.

We had left the spaniels to sleep in the van during this visit as we also planned to travel in a cable car across the valley of the River Gauja. This was a great experience, particularly when the car brushed the tops of the trees on either side of the valley on a journey of just over a kilometre. There is no central support so the car plunges downwards then makes the slow climb up the other side. If you are feeling really daring you can zip wire down to the lowest point of the supporting cable and be pushed back up when the car makes its return journey. We passed on that experience.

Intrepid zip wire riders. We were safely inside the car

The journey to Riga was a bumpy one. The main road was closed and we diverted in a huge loop into the countryside. Latvian roads are a bit hit and miss. You can be sailing along on beautifully smooth tarmac for miles and then suddenly it comes to an end and you hit a road surface that doesn't seem to have been repaired since the Russian tanks arrived. Things were not much better as we approached the centre of Riga where badly patched potholes gave way to cobbles. Very picturesque but noisy and bumpy. We fetched up in a small car park by a marina a short walk from the old town.

They do architecture in Riga

The evening was enlivened by a shunting engine that used the short length of track next to the van to push wagons backwards and forwards. However things got really noisy a little later when a local dance establishment fired up a sound system that Black Sabbath would have dismissed as being far too noisy. We enjoyed the delights of drum and bass vibrating the air around the port until 6 am the following morning. Well, I did anyway. Neri slept through most of it.

Undeterred by lack of sleep, and persistent drizzle, we set off the next morning to explore Riga. The old town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and deservedly so with its breathtaking array of architectural styles from classical to art nouveau. We wandered though the cobbled streets and squares dodging the crowds of tourists. For us the outstanding building was the House of the Blackheads, originally erected in 1334 by the Brotherhood of the Blackheads, a guild of unmarried merchants, shipowners and foreigners living in Riga at the time. The building was bombed by the Germans in 1941 and what was left demolished by the Soviets at the end of the war. Incredibly it was completely rebuilt in its original form in the late 1990s.

It's amazing to realise this was reconstructed in its original form

George, Cecille & dog

One of the many interesting statutes we discovered was that of George Armitstead and his wife Cecille, not forgetting their dog. George was born in Riga the son of an English peer and successful merchant. His great grandfather was the vicar of Easingwold in North Yorkshire. He worked for a time as an engineer in Russia before returning to Riga where he was elected mayor, an office he held from 1901-1912. Tsar Nicholas II of Russia was so impressed by Armitstead's improvements to the city that he offered him the post of Mayor of St Petersburg, which George, probably wisely, refused.

The four of us returned to Florence, tired, damp but full of enthusiasm for this lovely city. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology we sat in the van and watched England beat Tonga in the Rugby World Cup. We decided not to risk a second night, just in case the disco had a Sunday evening session, and instead drove west where we are now parked up in Kemeri National Park and expect it to be much quieter. On the way down the rough track to the parking area we passed a terraced cemetery among the trees. I will certainly be looking forward to visiting that tomorrow.