Journey to the Mountains of the Moon - 1994 (2)

Planning the Great Adventure
Phase 1 – Assemble the Information, Rough out a Plan
Once the basic idea was hatched it was necessary to start searching for information. In the early 1990s the internet was not the magnificent source of information that it is today. Finding information was done by searching libraries, looking through travel magazines and writing to adventure tour operators to glean information.

I had discussed the idea of trekking the Ruwenzoris with son Dominic with whom I frequently went bushwalking. He expressed immediate interest having previously been trekking the Annapurna circuit in Nepal with his friend John. Dominic extended the idea by suggesting that we also ‘do’ Mt Kenya while in East Africa – it would be a shame to spend all that money, travel all that way, and not get maximum value from it!

We lived in Nairobi from 1974 to 1976 working a two-year contract and I had done a weekend trek up Mt Kenya with a group of expatriate colleagues. Dominic and twin brother Garth would have dearly loved to go at that time but I felt they were too young and I also didn’t know quite what to expect. So now it was only natural that Dominic would want to take the opportunity to address this past omission from his education in nature’s classroom.

Our researches unearthed a surprising number of good information sources. There was Guy Yeoman’s coffee-table format book “Africa’s Mountains of the Moon”. An amusing tale by journalist John Preston – “Touching the Moon”. And also an article from another book (?) “Mountains of the Moon – A Ruwenzori Journey” by John Cleare. About Mt Kenya we new enough from the Lonely Planet Guide “Trekking in East Africa” and my own previous experiences. We had also heard about a book “No Picnic on Mt Kenya” written by an Italian prisoner-of-war – Felice Benuzzi- about his and his compatriots’ experiences escaping from internment at Nanyuki on the western flanks of Mt Kenya for the sole purpose of climbing the mountain. Unfortunately we couldn’t get hold of a copy prior to our journey to East Africa. It wasn’t until a couple of years afterwards that Dominic managed to pick up a second-hand copy of “No Picnic …” in a bookshop in Kathmandu while in Nepal on another trek!

Little by little planning started as we gathered more and more information. I had already ‘done’ Mt Kenya, and Kenya is the easiest place to start an East African odyssey so we decided that the order of things would be to arrive in Nairobi, organise our needs for Mt Kenya and make our way to Nanyuki. At Nanyuki we would be able to find transport to the start of our chosen route up Mt Kenya – the Sirimon Gate approach. Having ‘cracked’ Mt Kenya we would head back to Nairobi and regroup before travelling across to Western Uganda to do the Ruwenzori trek. The plan was loose enough to provide any flexibility we needed and to be able to do some typically touristy things if we felt so inclined.

Living in Nairobi a mere 20 years previously had provided us with enough knowledge, we thought, of how things are done in Kenya so that we could leave all of the ground logistics until our arrival. The Lonely Planet guides are invaluable sources of information for this approach but you have to make sure that your copy is reasonably up-to-date. The political situation can change very quickly in most African countries – a fact of which we were very aware. During the time that we lived in Nairobi, an outspoken politician disappeared. Thre were reports of sightings of him from all over Africa but about two weeks later his body was discovered in the Ngong Hills just outside Nairobi. At that time we were all sent home from work and the kids were sent home from school, although the student rioting was over very quickly.

With the basic idea reasonably well worked out we turned our thoughts to actually making the trip happen. Fortunately project planning and management in one discipline has large areas of commonality with project planning and management in other disciplines. It was a relatively easy matter to work back from our intended goal and work out the relative timings for when we would have to do what.

We worked out that the best time of year to travel, for various reasons such as sub-equatorial weather patterns, would be around July-August. The time we would need to complete the Mt Kenya and Ruwenzori treks was around four to five weeks but we allowed six weeks to be on the safe side. Little by little the plan started to become tangible – we made sure passports were up-to-date, arranged necessary visas for Kenya, and booked our airline tickets to take us to Nairobi and back via Johannesburg. We booked our leave, arranged for necessary vaccinations and inoculations, and made check lists for gear, clothing and foodstuffs that we would need to take.

The Ruwenzori part of the trip would be organised in Kasese, Uganda and we knew that our accommodations on the trek would be in the huts provided. For Mt Kenya, however, we opted for a different approach. I was well aware that guides and porters are available along with a hut for the normal trek with one overnight on the mountain. We wished to take a more ‘leisurely’ approach (well slower anyway) so we decided that we would do our own porterage and guiding and would carry tent and cooking equipment with us.

Dominic had ‘earned’ a good two-person expedition tent as a result of some work he had done and he had not used it up to now. It was exactly right for our purpose so we got some practice in erecting it so as to not be caught out when we really needed to use it. The sight of that fairly large tent erected in our living room was quite amusing. My wife Patricia asked "why we didn’t erect it outside on the lawn?" The obvious answer was that we didn’t want to get it wet so that we’d have to dry it out before packing it up again!

Journey to the Mountains of the Moon - 1994 (1)

21 July 1994 – My diary notes reveal that we left Bujuku Hut just after 10am heading for Elena Hut. This was, without doubt, one of the hardest days we had in the Ruwenzoris. Bujuku Hut is at around 3970 metres ASL and Elena Hut is at 4540m – the highest hut in the Ruwenzori Ranges and basically the midpoint of the trek.

Our journey to the Ruwenzoris was anything but straightforward. It started in 1992 when I was all but immobilised at home in Canberra with a ruptured lumbar disc. During recovery and learning to self-manage the condition, my doctor - ?Bell – encouraged me to take a more holistic approach to managing my life. He encouraged me to think about what I would do if money was no object. The back trauma provided an ideal opportunity or this sort of re-appraisal so I was quite happy to consider possibilities.

Beginnings
I’d recently been reading ‘The Last Hero’ (not the Terry Pratchett Discworld novel) but the one by Peter Forbath which tells the highly fictionalised story of Henry Morton Stanley’s real expedition to the Upper Nile region via the Congo River to rescue Emin Pasha after the fall of Khartoum in 1885. The journey takes Stanley close to the Ruwenzori Mountains and the source (or one of them) of the Nile. It is a stirring tale and awakened my interest in visiting a part of Africa which I had not been to.

At around the same time I had also read Alan Moorehead’s popular history ‘The White Nile’ which tells the history of European exploration and colonisation of the Nile region and, of course, the search for the source of the Nile. In conjunction with Forbath’s novel this book was sufficient to make one of my new ‘life goals’ to be to visit the regions discussed. Further research into the region threw up the possibilities of trekking the Ruwenzoris and so the idea was born. It was not yet a plan but at least the basis of something to plan for.

About the Ruwenzoris
The Ruwenzori Range is thought to be the ‘Mountains of the Moon’ mentioned by Ptolemy but the identification is not absolutely certain. Nevertheless, the poetic name sticks and is appropriate given the mystique that the range has. It is frequently misty or cloudy and it is rare to sight the peaks at all. The first European sighting was from the Stanley expedition in 1889 (see “The Last Hero” above) and the first ascent of the highest peak (to 10, 677 feet) was by Stanley’s expedition's 2IC William Stairs.

Margherita Peak is the highest summit of Mt Stanley and was named by the Duke of the Abruzzi during his 1906 expedition. It is the third highest peak in Africa after Kilimanjaro and Mt Kenya at 5109 metres.

The geography and vegetation is quite stunning with many plant species such as giant heather, lobelia and groundsel present here which are not found in any other location.

In keeping with the misty/cloudy nature the terrain is very wet with much of the trekking path being through extremely boggy areas. River crossings could be a challenge in earlier times but are generally easy now that the bigger rivers are crossed by modern bridges.

Treks of the central circuit, taking 7 or 8 days, depending on whether or not Margherita Peak is to be attempted, are organised from the Western Ugandan town of Kasese.

Singapore - Home

To break the long journey home, we had arranged to stay in Singapore overnight. We stayed at the Excelsior-Penisular Hotel on Coleman Street - not far away from City Hall and the shopping district. Pat and Garth had stayed here on their way to England too. We arrived in Singapore in the early evening and our car was waiting for us as we left customs. We had already paid for the car but didn't have the voucher to prove it, although fortunately we had the itinerary which had the details printed on it so the driver was reasonably happy. Twenty minutes or so from the airport to the hotel and we had to face the non-voucher situation again at the hotel, but again we were able to satisfy them with the printed itinerary. We had a comfortable room on the sixteenth floor of one of the towers which gave us a good look over towards the south. After a light dinner we were off to bed to try to recover some of the sleep lost on the flight from London.

The next day we woke reasonably early to the sound of a Koel (Indian Cuckoo) in the trees 13 stories below. We thought we had left the darn bird back in Australia but they seem to be very widespread. I'd even heard them calling in Balngalore (India) when I was there in August. We weren't due to leave until evening again so we went for a walk in the local area after breakfast. It was quite warm and very humid - normal for Singapore so we didn't move very fast. The big shopping malls are airconditioned but it was too early for most of the shops to open as they don't seem to open up much before 11am. Pat wasn't interested in going too far so we headed back to the hotel for a while and then I went out again to buy some sandals. Having to cover three seasons on the trip I hadn't the room to pack more than two pairs of shoes. The Rockports I was wearing were just too hot to walk around in so sandals it was.

After changing my footwear I went for a walk up through Fort Canning Park and then circled back around to the west and south, eventually ending up at Clarke Quay before heading back to the hotel. During my walk I was accosted by a young guy in sort of monkish clothes. He wanted me to buy a friendship bracelet and good luck charm. Since the cost was low I decided to play him along. After the exchange he headed off down the street and kept looking over his shoulder back towards me. I decided to have a bit of fun and started following him towards the river and Clarke Quay. When he saw me following he started running and ducking across the busy roads to put some distance between us. Eventually I lost sight of him but I wasn't really interested in catching up with him anyway. What he was doing is probably illegal in Singapore and he probably thought I was going to dob him in or something.

On the way back to the hotel I went into a shopping mall in the same block and it was several stores of high-tech gear witha food court in the bottom. Pat and I braved a rain-storm to go back there for lunch. Actually we didn't get wet as we were able to stay under cover all the way there and back but it really chucked it down for a few minutes. The food court was pretty busy and we ended up luching at a Deli-France on the ground floor. As a local specialty- probably not served in any non-Singaporean Deli-France - they had several varieties of curry and the chicken one I had was quite good.

I arranged a late check out at the hotel. Their normal late check out time is 2pm but I wanted anothe couple of hours for which they said I would have to pay, and I was quite happy to do that. When it came time for us to check out however, at about 4:30pm, they waived the extra charge which was much appreciated. Our driver was there promptly so we were able to get o the airport in plenty of time, having to wait for the gate lounge to open. This time we were able to get an aisle seat so the trip back to Sydney was much more comfortable.

And so, at around 6am the next morning, we were back in Sydney and our long awaited holiday was over. Long-haul travel really is the pits so it is good to spend a reasonable amount of time between the outward and homeward flights to recover and enjoy the break.

It may be sometime before we are ready to go away again but then, you never know. I've still got a hankering to spend some time in Italy :-)

England Phase 2 (2)

On this, our last Sunday in England, we wanted to head for somewhere closer to Heathrow so we wouldn't have to rush anywhere on Monday - they day we were flying home. We left Salford heading south to meet up with the A44. This would take us generally south east through places like Moreton-in-Marsh and Chipping Norton on the way to Oxford and other points south. In Chipping Norton we were briefly held up due to a Remembrance Sunday processsion. When we got to Oxford I thought it might be nice to drive through the city so that Pat could have alook at the old colleges, rather than just stick to the boring ring road. Bad idea! Oxford was also chocker with traffic and roads had been closed to divert traffic onto side streets to avoid processions. Following the example of other drivers we turned around and headed back to a likely-looking side street. This took us past the processions but the traffic was very slow. Eventually we emerged on the south side of the city ending back up on the ring road. Sometimes good ideas just turn to rubbish.

I had thought we might overnight at Henly-on-Thames, famous for the annual rowing regatta between Oxford and Cambridge. Traffic wasn't too bad heading into the town and I was looking for what might be a car park close to the centre of town. Not knowing the place we ended up just past the town centre with a forced left turn onto a bridge across the river. No problem thinks I. I'll just drive across the river turn around and head back into town from the other direction. Right? Wrong! Traffic coming into town from the south east was stopped and stretched right back up the hill for a bout 1.5 miles. Oh well, we're flexible so just carry on to Maidenhead.

At Maidenhead, we found the centre of town and parked in a multi-story carpark while we had a break and a bite to eat. Parking wasn't free, it was the kind where you pay on your ticket on your way back to the car and then use it to get out of the boom gate on the way out. Despite charging for Sunday parking, they dain not to operate the elevators on Sunday so you have to trudge up umpteen flights of stairs to your car - very unfriendly. I told Pat to wait by the way out while I went up to get the car and I'd pick her up as I came out through the boom gate. She jokingly remarked that if I was going to get rid of her this might be the best chance I'd get. Prophetic words. As I drove towards the boom gate I didn't see any sign of her. I was distracted by another way out which was for people who hadn't yet paid but properly bypassed that lane and took the correct way out but no sign of Pat (that I could see). I thought "OK - I'll park somewhere close then walk back and find her". Wrong again. One way streets, no on-street parking for miles, and no idea where the one-way system would take me in a town which I didn't know at all. Well, nothing for it but to drive and keep track of my heading and try to circle back around. I was able to u-turn in a side street about a mile and a half away and completed the loop back to the carpark after about ten minutes. Fortunately Pat was waiting on the side of the road, wodering whether I had taken her up on the offer of leaving her there. Fortunately we were able to have a good laugh about it.

After such an experience we decided to head a little further south to Windsor and check out accomodation around there. We found a hotel in our voucher book which looked like a good prospect and on calling them discovered that they had rooms available. This was just a bit further south from Windsor near the A30 near a village called Englefield Green, Egham. This is just outside Windsor Great Park and in quite a nice area. The girl at the hotel gave me directions on how to get there and we found the right road with no problems. However, even driving up and down the road about three times we still couldn't find the hotel. Eventually I called in at the pub at Englefield Green and asked one of the girls how to find the hotel - and she didn't know - but an American lady overheard my enquiry and was able to tell us how to get there. It turned out that we had driven past the discreet entrance several times.

The Saville Court Hotel is now run by the McDonalds group but was originally the country home of some Baron or other (Cohen?). It is set in about 10 hectares of parklike land. It has apparently been renovated in the last year or so and we found it very comfortable. It has over 140 rooms but there were apparently only about 20 people in the hotel while we were there. It was at this time that we discovered that we did not have our book of vouchers from Qantas and couldn't find them even though we practically unpacked and repacked our suitcases in the back of the Zafira. No point in worrying however. We thought that we must have left them in the cottage in Wales.

In the morning we saw squirrels frolicking under the trees and I saw two groups of parrots (yes, parrots) fly over. Then while we were watching out from our bedroom window, a small deer came across towards the building. We also saw a woodpecker busily looking for grubs in the lawn - very special.

Our last day in England was a bit of a non-event. We decided just to drive for a while so headed down to Basingstoke where we had lunch. AFter lunch we headed up through Newbury, where our friend George works, and then onto the M4 back to Heathrow. We got to the airport a little too early and they wouldn't let us check in for a couple of hours so we just found a seat and read our books for a while until it was check in time. The flight to Singapore wasn't as good as it could have been as they had put us into inside sides in the middle group across the cabin so we didn't have an aisle seat between us. Having an aisle seat makes it much easier to get in and out to go to the toilet without disturbing others. The young bloke sitting next to Pat was a bit of a mongrel who made his displeasure at being disturbed well known - tough!

Wales (4), England Phase 2

On Saturday morning it was time to pack up and head back to England so that we wouldn't have to rush to make our plane from Heathrow on Monday night. After packing up and saying our goodbyes to Lisa at the Cottages, we headed east on the A44 which would take us through Llangurig and Rhyader and eventually to Worcester. As we progressed eastwards the nature of the countryside changed from the wildish terrain of the Cambrian Mountains and then through between the Brecon Beacons to the south and the Black Mountains to the north until, in Herefordshire it was back to rolling fields and hedgerows. The closer we got to Worcester the more 'English' the countryside became.

We had thought to stay a night at Worcester but the Saturday traffic in the city was so dreadful that we couldn't bear the thought of trying to find somewhere to stay in the mad melee so carried on eastwards. Stratford-upon-Avon is only about 25 miles away from Worcester so it seemed like a good alternative. It was busy in Stratford too but we parked the car and had a walk around the town. It was again wuite busy but more with tourists than stressed out shoppers. We couldn't find suitable accomodation in Stratford but the lady at the information centre found us a room at Salford Manor just north of Evesham. This turned out to be quite a nice hotel set in a bit of land just outside Salford village. It had originally been a guest house for Salford Priory and dated back to the 1500s. We didn't discover the only flaw for our stay until we went to bed that night - the bedsprings were totally knackered and we had to sleep hanging onto the sides of the bed to avoid crashing together in the middle. There's always something!

Apart from the bed the Salford Manor hotel was good. At dinner, Pat couldn't face anything on the menu so asked for just a poached egg on toast which they had not the slightest hesitation in accepting on the order. When you get service like that it highlights the contrast between that and the 'must stick to the script' restaurants which seem to be the norm. Our room was not in the main building but in another separate wing but only a short stroll to the main building for dinner, and for breakfast the following morning. Memo to self - check the bed in future to make sure it doesn't date from the same era as the building!

Wales (4)

Friday being our last full day in Wales we decided to head south along the coast. We took a detour to New Quay which seemed to be a typical coastal holiday village before cointinuing to Cardigan where we hoped to spend a bit more time. Our inexperience with local customs showed mightily when we turnd off the main road into Cardigan. (We should have been warned by the fact that an earlier turn into the town was blocked off). We discovered that Friday is market day in Cardigan (and probably in many other country towns). The streets were crammed with stalls, pedestrians, and very slow-moving one-way traffic - a bit like an Ikea store. We followed down through the town looking for a carpark which we eventually found down on the quayside but was full to overflowing.

Negotiating our way out of the car park we still had to follow the one-way system which lead us back to the main road - at the junction which had been blocked off when we approached from the north so we had no option but to turn onto the highway heading north! We could have turned around further on and headed back south again past Cardigan but didn't really have sufficient motivation. We stopped in Aberaeron for lunch and a walk around on the way back. We found a little cafe on the main road which seemed to be the right sort of place for us to eat but it turned out to be the unfriendliest place we had come across in all of our travels. After waiting for some sort of indication that they might be interested in finding out what we wanted, we got up and walked out. Its doubtful that they even noticed!

Since we had re-packing to do and expected to be travelling further on Saturday we headed back to our cottage and a bit of veging-out.

Wales (3)

Thursday morning we decided to head northwards. The intention was to visit Porthmadog and Portmeirion, travelling up on the slightly inland A470 and then drive back down the coast on the A496. Being another sunny day, the drive north through Machynlleth and Dolgellau was very pleasant and showing us a variety of scenery from rolling pastures, wooded hills, and sub-alpine terrain. Heading along the coast of Tremadoc Bay we called in at Portmeirion and had a bit of a look around but decided not to actually go into the purpose built village. It is regarded by sum as a 'folly' of Sir Clough Williams-Ellis who built the place about 75 years ago.

Porthmadog was a suitable place for lunch although the little cafe we chose wouldn't have won any awards. We pushed on through Porthmadog to Tremadog intending to circle back east off the A498 and pick up the road heading south-west through Maentwrog (B4410). However, our Collins road map let us down once again and we only discovered our error just before reaching Beddgelert while waiting at a road works traffic signal. Ho - hum! Ah well, checking the infamous map once again we could see that continuing north-east would actually take us past Mt Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) and then we could loop across to the east through Capel Curig and Betws-y-Coed. From there we could turn south again.

As it turned out, I enjoyed the drive although Pat wasn't so chuffed as she was on the side of the car next to the steep drop-off into the valley below. We stopped at a viewpoint which had a good outlook of Mt Snowdon and also the valley to the south of where we were. The sun was still shining but there was a lot of black cloud around which gave some peculiar lighting challenges - particularly looking back down the valley to where the sunlight was reflecting off Lake Gwynnan.After leaving the viewpoint we headed north east past Pen y Pass on on to Capel Curig. On this section the road is mainly following the high valleys with substantial mountains on either side so it is very beautiful. (You might have guessed that I like mountain country).

We didn't linger in either Capel Curig or Betws-y-coed but turned south towards the slate capital of Blaenau Ffestiniog and, a little further south, Ffestiniog. Since we had taken an unexpected detour it was a bit later in the day than we had anticipated so we decided just to head back down to Aberystwyth the way that we had come. The return journey was somewhat slower than our northbound trip as, for many miles, we were following a house on the back of a truck and there were very few places where it would have been viable to overtake. The driver certainly seemed to know his job as he negotiated narrow lines and one-way sections through villages caused by parked vehicles. Even travelling behind the truck it didn't take too long for us to get to Aberystwyth again to round off another day.

Wales(2)

To sample some more of the Welsh scenery we drove inland on the A485 to take us to Devil's Bridge by way of Tregaron and then via the B4343 through Pontrhydfendigaid (no the keyboard didn't go crazy) and 'Ysbyty Ystwyth' (and no, the keyboard didn't forget where the 'rest' of the vowels are). Incidentally 'Ysbyty Ystwyth' contains two 'vowels' - 'w' and 'y'.

Again it was a very pleasant day and quite a good drive along these much smaller country roads. There is a very pleasant village at Devil's Bridge, situated at the head of Rheidol Valley, which is a bit of a tourist spot but most of the touristy stuff was already closed down for the winter. You can still pay by coins to get through the turnstile and walk the tracks but Pat wasn't interested in walking and I satisfied my exercise needs by walking back down from the carpark to have a look from the side of the bridge.
This shot is looking directly down from the upstream side of the bridge at the narrow cataract. The present bridge is actually the third one on the spot and the first two are still underneath it. From downstream you can see all three bridges, the first one built in (I think) the 13th century, and the second (I think) in the 18th century. Apparently Devil's Bridge is a common name given to bridges in narrow, hazardous locations.

Heading away from Devil's Bridge we headed back down the Rheidol Valley towards Aberystwyth where we had lunch and then back to the cottage. Although the distance we travelled wasn't great it had been slow going because of the narrow roads and, in any case, we wanted time to appreciate the Landscape.

Chancery, Aberystwyth

To get to Aberystwyth from Cardiff, we took the M4 west past Swansea to the point where it divides into the A48 and A483 at Pont Abraham. The A483 would take us north to Llanwrda where we could take a left and head across towards the coast at Aberaeron on the A482. Now that we were on real Welsh roads the nature of the driving changed quite a lot. The roads are much windier and narrower with some sections through the smaller towns where only one-way traffic is viable because of cars parked on the main road. I got a little bamboozled in Ammanford and turned right instead of left. Again the unfamiliar destination names give it away so we stopped, consulted the map, and headed back a short distance to pick up the road we should have been on.

After turning on to the A482 at Llanwrda the country was much hillier and the road even narrower and windier but it was very scenic and the weather was continuing to be kind. When making the booking for the cottage I had suggested it would take us maybe 2 - 2.5 hours to get there from Cardiff. In the event it was more like 3.5 but no matter because we weren't in any burning hurry. Lisa's directions to find the farm and cottages from the south were spot on and in a short time after arriving we were getting settled in.
The cottages were originally a stables and tack room but had been well fitted out inside with all mod-cons and even a few little extras provided by Lisa.

After unpacking we headed into Aberystwyth to stock up on the necessary supplies. It was moderately busy in the town but again, with a bit of nose-following, we found a supermarket where we could stock up. Aberstwyth is right on the coast and is quite a pleasant town with adequate facilities. It is the home of the Welsh National Library which is quite an imposing building up on the hill behind the town. Like many country towns they have had to install a one-way system to cope with traffic flow through the narrow streets.

One of the most difficult things we encountered in Wales was the language - particularly trying to get our tongues around Welsh place names. I'd thought Russian was hardish - particularly with the Cyrillic alphabet - but Welsh is on another plane altogether!

Cardiff, Wales

We left Bath on the Monday morning, having drunk enough Bathwater for a lifetime (joke). We were heading to Cardiff primarily to obtain information on self-catering accomodation in either Pembrokeshire or Cardiganshire - we weren't too fussed which. We had been to Wales only once in about 1973 when we decided to head over to North Wales from where we were living in Long Whatton, Leicestershire. On that occassion we journeyed via Shrewsbury towards Wrewxham, turning off to Llangollen and then through Betws y Coed to Bangor, returning along the North Coast via Conwy, Llandudno, Colwyn Bay, Rhyl and Chester. That time we had planned to overnight somewhere although we were pretty strapped for funds. In the end we just kept on driving and ended up back at home after a lightning one-day tour of North Wales. The memories of the trip still remain though and we wanted to see more of the Welsh countryside this time.

From Bath to Cardiff you are pretty much stuck with motorways unless you want to go a long way out of your way. We took the slightly more northerly M48 via Severn View although that rejoins the M4 fairly soon.

We had arranged to stay at the Novotel in Cardiff which is close to the city centre where we could visit the city information centre to obtain the details of self-catering holidays that we needed. When I rang up to book the hotel from Bath I tried to tell the Lithuanian booking receptionist that I wanted to use one of our hotel vouchers as you are supposed to let them know when you are making a booking. She didn't have a clue what I was talking about and neither did the Chinese girl she passed me on to so I told them not to bother, just make the booking and we could sort it out on check in. When we arrived at the hotel I went through the same rigmarole again without any luck so the receptionist called the manager to help sort it out. He pointed out to me that the vouchers stated that they were only valid for a certain period which had already passed. After eating humble pie and just paying with Visa I resolved to sort that matter out back in Australia as it was obviously an error. Anyway we checked in. This was one of the best hotels that we stayed in although not the most expensive.

After sorting out our stuff we headed for the city centre on foot and found the information centre. The guy was most helpful and gave us a heap of stuff to take away and study to work out what we would do. We lunched at a pub on Church Street just down from the castle. I had braised faggots and peas which was delicious and washed down with a half of Cider.

Back at the hotel we perused the brochures and eventually settled on trying to get a cottage just outside of Aberystwyth. On ringing up I was told that a cottage was available for the four nights we wanted to we made the booking at Blue Glass Cottages at Chancery near Aberystwyth in Cardiganshire.

Bath (2)

Saturday night in Bath was quite noisy. Our room overlooked Walcot Street so we got direct experience of any boisterous behaviour going on as people made their ways home after watching the local football team, which was playing at home, followed by the inevitable post-match post mortems. Also, being the last weekedn before November 5th - Guy Ffawkes Day - many people were celebrating the event on Saturday night rather than during the week. All in all it made for a disturbed night for us 'stay -ins'.

On Sunday we were scheduled to drive to Chippenham to George and Christine's place and then we were all going to Abingdon in the one car to neet the rest of the gang for lunch. Getting to Chippenham was easy enough - just a matter of following Walcot Street in the opposite direction to the city onto the A4. Once in Chippenham I did a bit of 'nose following' and lucked out onto the correct road and then it was just a short drive to Christine and George's house. The choice of which weekend to meet up with Christine and Goerge was contingent on a few factors, one of which was that while we were on the first part of journey - I to Russia and then the UK, Pat to the UK - Christine was in Sydney visiting their daughter Caroline who is pregnant with her second child. Christine arrived back in London only on Saturday morning (3rd).

It was good to meet up with them again though we have kept in touch and have met them a couple or so times in Australia. I'd also visited George in 1995 during a company visit to Milton Keynes so I had a good idea of where there house is which helped with the navigation.

We duly set off for Abingdon in Georges comfortable Jaguar. Abingdon had been chosen for lunch as it is where Ed my old boss from Nairobi lives with his wife Pat. Ed was about to have a cataract operation and Pat didn't want him driving long distances. We were also to meet up with others there - Chris and his partner Rosie, and Ian, unfortunately without his wife Jean who had a prior engagement. In no time at all we were at The Four Pillars Motel in Abingdon where Ed had booked lunch. All of the others were already there and it was great to catch up with them all again. I had visited Ed and Pat also back in 1995 on another company trip and again in August this year during a very short visit to London. However, my Pat had not seen them at all in the 30+ years since we left Kenya although she has been diligent in keeping in touch by letter.

By the time we got to the lunch table we were in full swing with the intervening years peeling away. Christine had brought a photograph taken at a Halloween fancy dress party which had been hosted by Jean and Ian back in 1973. We men had been roped into dressing up as the seven dwarfs and there were a couple of dwarfs not present so it was a question of 'do you know who the other dwarfs were?'. To fill out the memory Ian had brought along some red conical hats and name signs so we the five dwarfs present had to be photographed in the hat and with name card - see below.
A man from another table was kind enough to take some photographs for us - five of the seven dwarfs and partners 33 years older.

The hotel waiting staff were very tolerant as were other lunch parties because there was a lot of hilarity going on at our table. Actually one of the other large lunch parties was for a christening and as they were leaving one of the ladies presented us all with a piece of the christening cake.

Having started lunch at about 1:30 it was close to 5pm when we broke up to go our separate ways. We went back to Chippenham with George and Christine. George was trying to point out some of the sights along the way such as Avebury Ring but it was a bit too dark to see anything. We also went through Marlborough where there is famous Public (private) School. George did mention some current celebrity who had gone there but since celebrities don't register on my radar I've forgotten whom he mentioned (sorry George).

After a bit more discussion at Christine and George's place we headed back to Bath to prepare for our onward journey tomorrow - Monday.

Bath

Our next destination was the city of Bath. We had arranged to meet up with our friends George and Christine and some of the other people we had become friends with during our two-year sojourn in Nairobi in the early 1970s. Christine and George live in Chippenham and Bath seemed to be a reasonably close place to stay. Leaving the Crylla Valley/Plymouth area we headed North-East to Exeter, this time taking the reasonably direct route along the A38. Bypassing Exeter we chose not to use the M5 which would have given us a reasonable fast route towards Bristol but instead selected the A30/A303/A37 which, while slower, would take us through some nice countryside in Somerset.

The lunch-time stop was in the country town of Shepton Mallett where we lunched in a little cafe/restaurant which seemed to be quite popular with the locals. Actually several of the locals seemed to be stereotypes of what a person from rural Somerset should look like - particularly some of the men resplendent with bushy side-whiskers. Nevertheless it was a pleasant place to eat before we headed on the relatively short remaining distance to Bath.

Leaving Shepton Mallett we bypassed Midsomer Norton on our way to Bath, mindful of its namesake association with 'The Midsomer Murders' TV series. Being Friday Bath was quite busy when we arrived. We didn't have a city map so just followed the blue parking signs to a large carpark near the city centre. I was able to get a map from a vending machine at the carpark but it was incredibly difficult to follow, being one of the arty pictorial kind of map. By following the general flow of people we were able to make our way to the main shopping area and have a bit of a stroll around. We had booked a room at the Bath Hilton for three nights and knew only that it was on Walcot Street. Although able to find the street on the map, it gave little help in telling us how to get there from where we were parked.

Anyway after walking up through the town with its Friday shopping and tourist crowds we turned back towards the carpark but came out by the Green Park Station markets and had a stroll along the river bank towards the car park. That was a bit of an experience too as, although there were some other people walking, it seemed to be the haunt of some economically challenged people. There were some such loitering around and signs of more long-term occupation. However, we didn't encounter any problems but were glad to get back to the carpark.

Now trying to find our way back to Walcot Street by road was a frustrating experience. I navigated perfectly in the general direction which was a feat given the one-way road system. When we were actually quite close to our destination I missed a turn and ended up on the wrong side of the river. Asking for directions from a local also was the usual experience of them being happy to help but not being very clear about what 'go straight through' means at a 'T' intersection. We found ourselves in a back street which, I found out later, was directly across the river from the hotel. After consulting the useless map once again I saw that we actually only had to continue forward to the next interesection, take two left turns and we would be on the right street.

The Bath Hilton is actually right near the centre of Bath near the Pultenay Bridge. It doesn't have a carpark of its own but uses/shares the carpark underneath with the shopping plaza next door - at £15 per night! Since there was no parking in front of the hotel we drove down into the car park and then left our luggage there while we went to check in. I managed to obtain the services of a bell boy to come down to the car park and help me bring the luggage back up as there isn't any elevator access from the carpark to the hotel. I think the English hotel trade still has a lot of catching up to do with the rest of the world! Our 'room' (a euphemism for a double broom-closet) had barely enough room to edge sideways around the bed and not much more at the foot of the bed. Clearly they don't expect people to occupy the rooms except to sleep. It would probably have been adequate for a single bed. We had to get them to send up a service operative (a young lad with a pair of pliers) to get the water radiator heater going when the temperature started to drop.

On the following day (Saturday) we did a bit more wandering around the town and looking at the sights including the Cathedral.

We also walked across the Pultenay Bridge and before visiting the Guildhall Markets had a look at the weir downstream of the bridge.

The hotel restaurant overlooks the river with views of the upstream side of the Pultenay Bridge and glimpses of the weir underneath.

Cornwall (3)

For our last full day in Cornwall we decided to dedicate some time to visiting The Eden Project, just west near St Austell. It again turned out to be a sunny day which was good as we expected to be spending some time out doors visiting the project. Getting there was relatively easy and since it was both late in the season and early in the day we had no trouble with queueing to get in. The project is set up in a disused china-clay pit (china-clay is still mined near St Austell), and the view from the reception building shows a surreal landscape.
As well as the main environments set up to the left of the picture above, there is an education facility in what is know as The Core. We went into the 'tropical' biome but it was so hot and stifling inside that we didn't go too far or stay too long. Nevertheless, it is very interesting to see what can be done in a cool temperate climate when you provide the protective infrastructure. The other biome houses species from warm temperate areas including Australia, South Africa, and North and South America. Outside are many gardens planted in a wide variety of local and exotic vegetation. Because of its placement in the bottom of what is, essentially, a large quarry the project area enjoys a fairly warm micro-climate anyway. Even the insects thrive - see the giant Bee above!

We had taken the free tractor-train ride down from the reception centre into the quarry and took the elevator from the low level up through the education centre to 'The Iron Bridge' leading back to the reception centre.The picture above is a view inside the warm-temperate biome where bacchanalian scenes are played out by these bronze sculptures. Who knows what goes on in here when its dark.

Two related aspects of the project disappointed me. A section of one of the domes has been converted to an ice rink. Also, at the top of the elevator is a fairground ride sort of thing comprising old London Taxicab mockups in which you can be serenaded by Elvis Presley. These two things together made me feel that the place was departing from its serious and worthy intentions and turning into a theme park.

After a good tour through the facility, we left St Austell to head north and then eastwards again. We lunched at the small town of Bodmin at a fairly new restaurant with a mildly Spanish theme. Pat had her third mushroom soup which was quite different from any of the previous ones and nowhere near as good. We headed across Bodmin Moor but still no sign of the beast and, passing through Launceston (not Tasmania), we headed back to our cottage for our last night in Cornwall.

Cornwall (2)

For our second full day in Cornwall we headed west again but this time on the main A390 passing through St Austell, Truro, before joining up to The A394 taking us to Penzance. The weather had been perfect for our trip so far and this day was no exception. A little cooler than we are accustomed to back home but bright and sunny anyway.

On the way to Penzance we turned off at Helston to detour to The Lizard where there were some great views.
I took a walk right down to the water's edge at Lizard Point and took the photo above looking back up 'the boat ramp' which was at the bottom end of the walk.

Just before we got to Penzance we detoured to Marazion to view St Michaels Mount. This was quite appropriate because we knew that Garth was also visiting Mt St Michel in France today. I sent him an SMS from Marazion to celebrate the occassion.

The Cornish St Michaels Mount was not open for tourists at this time of year so we had to be content with viewing it from the distance. I haven't researched the history buut I wonder if there wasn't a bit of copy-catting going on?

Duly arriving in Penzance we didn't spot a single pirate (at least not one wearing conventional pirate garb). What a rip off! After lunching in Penzance (I had another 'only authentic Cornish Pasty') we headed for Lands End. Looking out past the lighthouse we were able to 'just' see the Scilly Isles on the horizon.The photograph doesn't really do it justice but it does show what a pleasant day it was.

Feeling a bit 'sighted out' we turned around and meandered back via the A30 again to relax for the remains of the day at 'our cottage'.

I took the opportunity of the free PC and broadband internet access at the cottages to check email and attempt to make some onward hotel bookings with zero success. Ho hum - but that's another story.

Cornwall

From our base at Crylla Valley Cottages we were able to set out and explore Cornwall. After our first night there we decided to head westwards along the coast to experience some of the many small villages. Our first visit was to the small village of Portwrinkle - pretty much due south of our 'abode'. We reached Portwrinkle via St German and Crabhole along some very narrow and windy lanes nestled between high hedgerows.

The challenge of motoring along these narrow lanes with poor visibility is that you never quite know when you are going to be confronted by an oncoming vehicle and with no way to pass. The only way forward is to go backwards, so to speak, so we found ourselves reversing to the last known passing point which was generally not too far behind us. There is an unspoken negotiation which goes on with these events. As we were unfamiliar with the protocol it was generally us doing the reversing. This sort of experience does tend to sharpen up ones driving skills which have probably dropped off a bit due to being spoiled rotten on roads where two vehicles can pass in opposite directions anywhere.

After a few more close encounters of the vehicular kind we got back onto a more regular road and headed west to Polperro. My sister, Evelyn and brother-in-law Peter had told us that they enjoyed a few days stay in Polperro on there trip to England in 1982 so we were interested to see this village. Polperro is a vehicle free village, except for local vehicles, as it is nestled at the head of a small cove and its 'streets' are very narrow lanes. There is a large car park where you have to leave your car (pay/display) as you walk down through the village or take the motorised 'tram' or a horse-drawn version (charge). We opted to walk down through the village but took the motorised tram back up to the carpark.

The village is a fair stereotype of the typical Cornish 'Smuggler's Cove' type of village and with the rise of tourism they cash in on every opportunity with many shops selling 'the only authentic Cornish Pasty available'. Other shops sell touristy knick-knacks.
This shop was decorated with carvings of Cornish Piskies and other mythical creatures.

This local pub also rises to the occassion with a ships figurehead below the sign.


After Portperro we headed west through St Austell and as far as Falmouth where we took a tour through the town. We got a bit slowed down by very slow traffic heading north-west towards Redruth to connect with the A30 which would take us north-east towards Bodmin (of 'beast' legend). It was still blowing our minds at the relatively small distances involved in travelling here.

Exeter to Plymouth

Leaving Exeter for the relatively short journey to Plymouth, we turned inland so that we could cross Dartmoor. This was a very pleasant drive on quite a sunny day. There were a lot of people in the National Park, some there to go walking, others like us who were just driving and sightseeing. A popular attraction was the little Dartmoor ponies who seemed quite accustomed to human presence.
We carried on through the moor past Princetown, joining up with the A386 which took us right into Plymouth. Garth was to leave us at Plymouth and travel back to London by train so we made a point of finding the railway station as soon as we reached the city centre so that we would know where to come back to mid-afternoon. Like many English towns which have gown over many years with no coherent planning until quite recently, Plymouth was confusing to find our way around. While trying to find our way to The Barbican where the information centre is located, we came across a couple of Police Constables on the beat and they were kind enough to direct us. Of course, being a fine Sunday in Autumn, the next problem was to find a carpark but we managed to locate one down by the wharf below the Hoe. From there it was a short walk to the Barbican information centre where we were able to get information about hotels etc. After lunch we went to a Holiday Inn just nearby and they had a room available (and parking and elevators!). I did the initial part of the check in thinking that would save time after dropping Garth back at the railway station.

Now that we knew our way around Plymouth, or at least the parts that mattered, we were able to take Garth back to the railway station without getting lost at all, although the Sunday afternoon traffic was a bit of a pain. Arriving back at the hotel, the receptionist couldn't find our check in information even though it was only 45 minutes since we had been there! Eventually we got it sorted out.

On Monday morning, rather than eat an overpriced but mostly unneeded breakfast in the hotel, we made our way back down to the Barbican and had breakfast in a little cafe there. After breakfast we went back to the info centre to see if they would be able to book us some self-catering accomodation but while they have information available on such, apparently they don't do bookings. Anyway we found a coffee shop and I was able to call and make a booking myself. We had located, in one of the tourism guides we picked up along the way, some self-catering cottages (Crylla Valley Cottages) at Saltash just across the Tamar River not far west of Plymouth. Normally such cottages are let on a Saturday in-out basis but, being ouside the high season, they were happy to let us have one for three nights. The directions they gave us for finding the place were spot on and it turned out to be one of the best decisions we made during the holiday. The cottages are fairly new and the one that we had, had lounge, kitchen, dining downstairs and fully kitted out with washing machine/drier. Upstairs was the large double bedroom and bathroom facilities. Heating was by electric storage heaters which were quite adequate even when it turned quite chilly on our second night there.

Being self-catering of course we had to stock up on some food items but there is a Waitrose Supermarket near Saltash which carried everything that we needed so we were able to set up a nice little base for our Cornish explorations.

Salisbury to Exeter

The room we stayed in at the Grasmere Court Hotel must have been the honeymoon suite because the bedsprings were incredibly noisy.
However, the view from the window, looking back over the town and the cathedral was good. Whether it made up for having to lug our heavy suitacases up three flights of stairs is debatable.

Our destination on this, Saturday 28th October was Exeter we we reached via Stonehenge, Dorchester, and a few assorted places in between. Getting to Stonehenge from Salisbury was straightforward, taking us about half an hour to complete the journey. We arrived before official opening time but this was no problem as adequate views of 'the Henge' can be seen from the roadside. Even if admitted to the area on payment of a fee, you aren't allowed to get close to the monoliths so its seems rather pointless going in at all. I have to say that the whole experience was rather unfulfilling, but at least we could 'tick the box'.

Driving away from Stonehenge we thought that we were taking the A303 which would take us to intersect with the A350 where we could head south to Dorchester. Somehow the road turned into the A344 taking us north to Devizes. I realised this when I saw the name/distance markers had unfamiliar names -not ones which I had gleaned from our proposed route. However, after a quick check of the map we realised the error and saw that we could correct it by cutting west on the B390 which would take us onto the A36 and thence to the A350. Again, we weren't in a hurry so it gave us the chance to traverse some countryside we wouldn't otherwise have seen. I understand that during WWII all of the road signage was removed so that any invading forces or spies dropped to reconnoitre would have difficulty finding their way around. I have to say that we would have been totally lost without the generally good signage available now.

Salisury plain has lots of military establishments and on our (unexpected) way to Warminster we passed the occasional 'tank crossing' sign. We were continually surprised by distances being less than we expected. I guess we get so used to 'the wide open spaces' in Australia that the relatively short distances in England take us by surprise.

Reaching Dorchester at around midday we experienced the usual English town problem of finding a car park on 'shopping day'. By queueing patiently we were able to get into a carpark near the town centre and, once in, had no problem finding a park. A short walk away was the main town shopping centre and various acknowledgments and monuments to Thomas Hardy. Hardy's fictional town Casterbridge was based on Dorchester and the townsfolk haven't been slow to cash in on the fictional historical link.
It's interesting to see how the fictional history becomes so enmeshed with the reality of the place that it takes on a life of its own. After making a few purchases at Marks and Spencers we had lunch in another local department store's cafe which was also quite busy. This photo shows a plaque outside what was supposed to have been the Mayor of Casterbridge's house.

Extracting ourselves from the carpark after lunch was almost as painful as getting in but eventually we were clear and on our way to Weymouth. There we had a bit of a stroll around before heading west on the coastal 'B' road which was bound to be much more interesting and less stressful than the busy main road. Unfortunately we had to join up with the A road at Bridport but shortly after were able to divert to the coast again on the Lyme Regis, Seaton, etc road going also through Ottery St Mary.

We seemed unable to break our pattern of arriving at our destination at the busiest time of the day and so we got to Exeter late on the Saturday afternoon. Leaving Pat in the car as she had a headache Garth and I tracked down the information centre and managed to find a hotel for the night. As we had come to expect, our room was on the 3rd floor, there was no elevator and no porter. The lady in charge seemed reminiscent of Basil Fawlty but that could have just been because we were pretty tired at the end of the day. The ultimate pain was that we had to park the car in a residential area two streets away because the hotel had no parking at all!
We enjoyed traditional fish and chips from a traditional chippy just down the road. Chatting with them while we waited we were pleased to discover that they would not do battered Mars Bars! (Mostly, it seemed, because it would destroy their process flow)

Time Warp

Entering Long Whatton from Kegworth Lane that Friday morning was like stepping back 30 years. Little seemed to have changed in the centre of the village apart from a few more houses going up between the garage was and Mill Lane where we used to live. We had a quick drive through and noticed a lot of additional housing at the Loughborough end of the village. After a drive down Mill Lane we parked at the end outside what used to be Jane and Mike's thatched cottage (still thatched) and had a stroll for a short way down. 'Our' house (number 3) seemed pretty unchanged as did the adjoing house.

Pat outside "Mike and Jane's" with 'our'
house and No 5 in the background

In the photo above that's the grey Vauxhall Zafira we were driving.

While remeniscing about old times we wondered if, perchance, our old neighbours still lived there. While knocking on the door I saw a man sitting there who was undoubtedly the same Aubrey. On untroducing myself as he opened the door he pointed to Garth standing behind me - "You're the one who used to try to strangle your sister out the back" which caused much laughter.

Aubrey and Jackie

We sat and had a cup of tea with Jackie and Aubrey while catching up on old times - a lot happens in 30+ years. It was good to see them both in very good health and still enjoying life.

Inevitably we had to leave so headed south travelling mostly on the Fosse Way which traverses modern roads with mostly 'A' names and pretty much follows the original Roman road. Navigating Coverntry's Ring Road was exciting with a more-than-usually lavish serving of roundabouts. By intently following the road markers ('Axxx' etc) we made it through without any more hassle than being in the wrong lane at one rab and having to quickly navigate left before being swamped by another influx of cars. Oh, and of course, Coventry's ring-road rabs are a testimony to their ineffectiveness at handling high traffic volumes - they are all fitted with traffic lights as well.

We passed through some lovely scenery typical of the English countryside at its best. Following the Fosse Way put us onto roads that were generally smaller than the busy through roads but the drive was all the more pleasant because of it. We lunched at a pub in Stow in the Wold which was just a short detour off our route. Afterwards we came to Bourton on Water which is one of the quintessentially picturesque Cotswold villages which grace calendars and to which tourists flock. Garth was driving so took us for a spin through the village. Remember it was Friday but the village was full of car and bus loads of tourists. It was certainly very picturesque but made us realise that living in such a pretty place is probably not all that its cracked up to be with hoardes of tourists all year round.

We had decided to make Salisbury our overnight stop so eventually arrived in the town right in the evening rush period. We had located a potential hotel to stay at so, while we were crawling through the town traffic I gave them a call. After checking that rooms were available I asked them to give me directions from where we were and then, after clearing through the traffic jams we arrived at Grasmere Court hotel not too much the worse for wear. Of course it was another typical English country hotel with no elevators and no porter so we had to lug our heavy bags up three flights to our rooms. The bright spot of it was that we had practically the whole of the top floor - two bedrooms and a sitting room (there was a third, unoccupied, bedroom) with wonderful views back over the town and the famous cathedral. This was also to be the only hotel at which I was successful in using a pre-paid voucher.

Pat wasn't particularly hungry so Garth and I walked back to a place we had spotted which seemed to a be a member of some family fast-food chain but their meals were OK. The place was pretty full and decked out in Halloween themes - including the waiting staff. The English seem to have picked up on the American trends in celebrating Halloween and while it is a bit of fun for the young kids, tends to be taken to excess by older 'kids' who can get quite nasty.

Into the Unknown

Following Frank's directions got us out of London without too much hassle although we did end up on the M1 at one stage. We could have taken the M1 all the way up to Nottingham - just a two-hour blast but boring, boring, boring! Eventually we were on our chosen route up the A11 and coming to grips with Brit road builders favourite toy - the roundabout. Unable to decide which road deserves priority they opt for an egalitarian solution that slows everyone down. And just when you being self-congratulatory about clearing one busy rab (roundabout) there is another to test your resolve and determination. Ho hum.

On one stretch of road we were following a small car with four passengers at quite a resonable speed - around 60mph - when a rab approached (I honestly got the feeling that they approached us rather than vice versa). Well short of the rab the car in front executed what was close to an emergency braking manouvre, so rapid was the deceleration. Fortunately I was quick enough to avoid rear-ending it. At the next rab after that one, following this little car into the rab I was looking intently to the right and inadvertently let our car roll a few inches. I had thought that they had carried through but no - they'd stopped again unexpectedly with the result that they got a nudge in the tail. They were about to jump out and check it out right there but I waved them to pull off to the left exit and we followed them down to sus out any damage. Well there wasn't any damage to either vehicle, not so much as a mark in the dust so we shook hands, they thanked me for stopping and we carried on our way. Oh me.

We lunched at a Little Chef where we were amused when Pat wanted just Egg on Toast (strictly speaking a breakfast-only dish and served only until 11am) and when the bill cam it was itemised to 1 slice of toast and 1 egg.

Passing through Ely during the lunch period we missed a turn and ended up going through the very busy main street. Nothing to do but keep going until we got back on the right track but just the first of our many experiences of country towns with narrow streets and too much traffic.

Crossing the Wash we had to wait at one of the canals as the bridge was up. The countryside there is quite reminiscent of Holland being very flat with canals and windmills. Actually they aren't far apart geographically anyway. After an otherwise uneventful drive we ended up in Nottingham late in the afternoon. Fortunately my memory put us on the right road to Long Eaton but the traffic was very heavy and slow - much worse than when I used to drive here in the early 1970s. Going past Nottingham Uni brought back a lot of old memories.

When we got to Long Eaton we had a bit of trouble locating the hotel but they gave us directions and we eventually found the place. A lot of development had gone on there too. Most of the south end of the town which had just been open country is now built up with residential development. The Ramada Inn was much as we expected but without elevators. Fortunately only two stories so not too many flights to carry the bags.

Next morning (Friday) we set off to our old village - Long Whatton. I lost my bearings a bit and we saw quite a bit of countryside that we didn't expect to see ending up close to Derby before backtracking and eventually finding Kegworth - a village close to where we wanted to be. I remembered Kegworth well - especially the time it was raining on my motorcycle ride home from the Uni and I couldn't get the engine restarted after stopping in Long Eaton. I ended up pushing the bike about 7 miles including up the hill in the back of Kegworth on the lane towards Long Whatton. We drove down that lane and passed the farm where the farmer had taken pity on me as he saw me pushing the bike. He let me put the bike in his barn and gave me a ride home.

Long Whatton didn't appear to be much different as we entered from the North West. The countryside still looked very much the same as we remembered and again we were flooded with memories. More in the next post.

England my England

Our holiday plan for England was to spend most of the time visiting a part of the country we had not been to before - the West Country of Devon and Cornwall. However, during their journey to meet me in London, and while there in the day or so before I arrived, Pat and Garth had discovered a yearning to revisit the village that we lived in the early 1970's and I must admit that I was not averse to seeing what had happened in the place in the intervening 30+ years.

We settled in Long Whatton, Leicestershire in early 1971 on arrival from New Zealand on a 'working holiday' along with the three kids aged 5 and 6. After a few weeks on the unemployment register trying to find a job, I landed a position at Nottingham University as a Research Assistant in the Economics Department. I was attached to an economic forecasting project and my job was to take the formulae given me by the academic members of the project and turn them into Algol programs and then run the collected datasets through them so that they could analyse the results. After doing that for about six months I landed a more permanent and better paid position in the Cripps Computer Centre which is where I was until leaving the Uni in February 1974.

Living in the small village through those few years was a good time of our lives. We didn't have much money but we had a great environment to live and work in and the kids were able to attend the local village school which was about 30 metres from our front door. Anyway, a chance to revisit old memories was all the urging that any of us needed to make a detour via Nottingham on our way to the West Country.

On the Thursday morning we checked out of the Corus Hotel and left Pat guarding the luggage in the foyer while Garth and I walked along Bayswater to Marble Arch to pick up the rental car. Since Garth was going to be with us for a few days we had extra luggage to cart around so we got a larger vehicle than I had booked - a Vauxhall (Opel/Holden) Zafira with 19l diesel engine and 6-speed manual mixer. The old(er) chap who got the car ready for us, gave us lots of advice about how to get back to the hotel, and more importantly the way to head north east out of London on our meandering way to Nottingham. We had decided to head up the A11 via Cambridge and Ely to the Wash and then cut back over through Grantham to Nottingham and end up at Long Eaton for the night. It turns out that Frank had been evacuated to the Ely/Wash area during the war so new the area well. He'd apparently run away a couple of times before being settled with a family that was a bit kinder to him.

So we left the Alomo Rental depot with me at the helm of a strange vehicle in a strange town. Frank's directions included taking a turn around Marble Arch to get onto Bayswater Road which was quite exciting but after that it was reasonably straightforward to get to the hotel - the only problem then being to find a legit parking space. Garth went in to get Pat and I stayed outside making sure we didn't get a parking ticket which wouldn't have been a good way to start off our adventures.

Eventually we were on the road and generally following Frank's navigational directions to get out of London. Next post I'll pick up on our journey northwards.

St Petersburg Impressions

After being apprehensive about going to Russia, due mainly to media hype about post-Soviet conditions as well as a wondering how much of the authoritarianism is still in place, I was favourably impressed with St Petersburg. It was probably the worst time of year to visit - missing both the warmth of Summer and the softening effects of a white-blanketed Winter, but even in the Autumn murk it is a beautiful city. It sort of had the feel, to me at least, that I imagine 19th-century or early 20th-century Paris would have had. Full of great buildings and bustling with people and traffic but with an air of genteel decay. Or rather of a never-ending effort to keep the buildings in good condition - Nevsky Pr in Autumn is rather dirty, and somewhat polluted by vehicle exhaust fumes, but alive with people and vehicles. It also was a reminder of past greatness - both the royal kind, as well as commercial greatness. For instance the facade of the Singer Building, which stands on the corner of Nevsky Pr and Griboedova Canal, speaks of a time when the city's prospects were high and business was booming, before the decline of the Soviet years.It reminded me somewhat of the facade of the Selfridges department store on London's Oxford St.

Possibly many of the people were better off overall under communism after the revolution than under Tsarist rule, although stories of people queueing for hours to buy staple supplies make this seem unlikely. There is little doubt, however, that Russia's economy has boomed since the breakup of the USSR and the shops are probably as good as you would find in any of the major world cities. Apparently older people have found it harder to adjust to the changes since Communism than the younger generations who, like young people everywhere, relish changes.

The people that we met were friendly and never 'in your face'. Around the churches there are the inevitable souvenir stalls, salesmen of Caviar of dubious provenance, and beggars but thats where you expect to find them. You are not, generally, accosted on the street to take this tour or buy this souvenir. Our hosts were gracious and looked after us very well. It would be interesting to visit St Petersburg again with more time available to really get to know what it is like to actually live there - an experience you can never get as a tourist who is just there for a few days trying to cram as much in as possible.

Yes, I'll go back if I get the chance, long-haul flights and all.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 10

Wednesday was our last day in St Petersburg, although not a full one. We arranged for Alex to pick us up shortly after 2PM to take us to Pulkovo Airport and arranged a 2PM checkout for the hotel.

This was our last chance to see the Hermitage. We decided, on Veronika's advice about the 'see-worthiness' of the Metro, to take the Metro towards The Hermitage so we walked up Nevsky Pr to the Mayakovskaya Metro station. Having purchased tokens and taken the escalator down to coal-mining depths we were able to view the tiled architecture which Veronika had told us about.


This picture doesn't really do it justice but what it shows is the name of the station in Cyrillic script done in reddish/black tiles on the wall. Just to the left of this, and immeditaly opposite those is a series of doorways (lift elevator doors) which is where you wait to get onto the train. The train pulls up and the doors open and you get on without seeing any sign of the train before the doors open.

Being so deep underground and very enclosed can bring on acute claustrophobia in one so inclined so we decided not to wait for the train but instead to walk to The Hermitage. The unfortunate aspect of that was that it made us a little later getting to The Hermitage and there was the inevitable queue. Hoever, in contrast to Sunday's abortive attempt, the queue was actually moving in increments of about 30 people every ten minutes so we eventually made it inside at about midday. This gave us just over an hour to 'do' The Hermitage before we had to head back to the hotel. Since our main aim was to view the Leonardo da Vinci paintings this was doable.

Inside the building we first made our way up the magnificent staircase. The tread height is only about 100mm which is probably OK for a lady wearing a long gown but would be quite wearying if you were a poor servant having to run around after the royals. Maybe the servant's stairs are a more appropriate height of tread for efficient ascent and descent.

Having no idea where the LDV paintings might be we asked a babushka which way to go and after quite alot of walking through huge reception rooms we eventually came to the paintings. Along the way we took a few illicit photos (if the babushkas see you taking a photo they will shoo you away) including this reception room.

The Da Vinci paintings were, in the end, worth seeing given that we had limited time available.
















The immense size and opulence of The Hermitage are staggering. It would probably take many visits to really do justice to the experience. However, now it was time to leave so we had a very brisk walk to the hotel arriving back just after our 2PM checkout time and had time to finish off our final packing and checkout before Alex arrived to take us to the airport.

The trip to the airport was full of mixed feelings for me. I was about to start the next part of my trip - three weeks in England with wife Patricia. I was meeting her and son Garth in London that evening.

We had been warned to be at the airport early to make sure we weren't held up by any of the security checks but in the event we had no problems getting through. There were some people at the terminal entrance, however, who were not being allowed in yet because their flight was some time away. I even offered to go through the outgoing customs check and was waved away with a smile.

On the BA flight to Heathrow I sat next to a Brit who was returning from a 5-day short holiday with his partner and two friends so we had a bit of a chat to while away the time. He told me they are coming to Oz with the Barmy Army for the Ashes tour in December. On touchdown at Heathrow there was no spontaneous applause on landing as there had been when we landed at Pulkovo on Friday evening. Most disappointing. I think it would be a good thing to do on any flight. (Any landing is a good landing).

At Heathrow immigration control I got the Spanish Inquisition (no one expects the Spanish Inquisition - Monty Python) since I was arriving from Russia, had been to the UK in August and must generally have looked a bit sus. Eventually I got through and after collecting our baggage we hopped onto the underground in to Earls Court (previously known as Kangaroo Valley during the heyday of Aussie working holiday trips in the late 60s and 70s). We managed to flag down a traditional London Cab and after dropping Mike and Sandra at their hotel I got to my hotel in Lancaster Gate and met up with Pat and Garth. We had dinner in while discussing plans for Thursday when we were to pick up our rental car and depart London pronto. Then to bed in a small over-heated room, but the story of our English experiences will be the subject of another series of posts.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 9

Tuesday was our second day of discussions and proceeded much the same as Monday had except that this time Cyrus hadn't overslept. We had more discussions and presentations and then they took us to a Georgian Restaurant for lunch. Earlier in our visit I had tried to get a bottle of Georgian red wine for dinner as it is apparently quite distinctive and worth trying. Georgian wine wasn't available however because of some trade disagreement (apparently about quality) between Russia and Georgia. It seems that during the Soviet days such things didn't occur because of all being part of the same union but now that national boundaries have been re-established old rivalries and mistrusts have started to reappear.

All of these problems, however, don't stop Russians from enjoying Georgian cuisine which seems to centre on lots of meat cooked in various ways and accompanied by different styles of bread. For lunch we enjoyed one of the Georgian favourite meat preparations which is effectively meat barbecued on 'swords'. Real swords aren't used now but the large skewers are made up to resemble swords. This was accompanied by a light bread and the whole meal was quite enjoyable.

Late afternoon as we were about to leave the office I took some photographs of the JT guys who had made our visit quite a productive one.

Cyrus, Dan, Sergey, August and Mike

For dinner on Tuesday night we decided to try to get into Yolki Palki again. This time we were successful although we had to wait 20 minutes for a table to become available, such is the popularity of the place. We had some traditional Russian fare, of which the most memorable was the piroshki (Russian pies) and a mandatory shot of vodka.

Back at the hotel we broached the bottle of champagne and demolished the cake for a late dessert. I had promised to play some harmonica for Sandra and Mike so did of (probably woeful) impromptu kletzmer style on a G-minor harp and a bit of bluesy stuff on an E harp.

St Petersburg, Russia - Part 8

Before closing off my birthday in St Petersburg I should draw attention to the three chocolate bars which Mike and Sandra gave me. They have the most picturesque wrappers that I felt I had to keep them so that I can share them. They are almost as good as the chocolate itself!
I should mention also that my plan had been to share the champagne and cake provided by the Radisson hotel with Sandra and Mike after dinner. By the time we got back to the hotel after dinner it was about 1AM so that plan went by the wayside. We had another novel experience while getting back to the hotel. Being very late we didn't want to walk all the way back but we were didn't have enough Russian to confidently negotiate with a taxi driver. Anyway, we walked to Nevsky Pr with Dan and Veronika and they flagged down a passing car. Actually the one they flagged for us turned out to be a regular taxi. In St Petersburg private citizens often earn a bit of extra income by cruising for fares as irregular taxis. The deal is, apparently that you tell them where you want to go and what you are willing to pay and all being agreed you have a ride to your destination at the agreed fare. Regular taxis are supposed to work by the meter but innocents like us can get stung because we don't know the language and are not confident enough to control the situation. Anyway, Veronika having flagged down a taxi for us (and an irregular had pulled up for her and Dan) she told the driver to take us to the hotel and gave him the fare - no discussion, no argument - simple. It was hardly an adventure being straight up Nevsky Pr to the hotel but it removed an uncertainty from our situation, for which we were grateful.