I left Denver, Colorado for Manchester, England on
Wednesday, July 22nd, 2015.
Lela, Brian and Bryla got me to Denver International Airport in plenty
of time to make a 10:30am flight to Chicago.
It’s only a 2 hour flight from Denver to Chicago where there was to be a
short layover and then a 7 hour flight to Manchester. First flight was uneventful, arriving in
Chicago a few minutes early, giving me plenty of time to find the gate for my
next flight. O’Hare is laid out in such
a fashion that finding gates is easy so I was where I needed to be in plenty of
time.
And I mean plenty of time.
The layover was scheduled to be a little over 2 hours. We were to board
at 4:15pm. Tom Eckler, on his way to his
parent’s home in upstate NY also had a layover at the same time and he looked
me up. It was nice to see him; a friendly face in a strange town is always welcome. However, I kept looking at the time, noticing
that it was 4:30 and we hadn’t been called for boarding yet. Thinking I’d be boarding soon, Tom left. Thinking I’d be boarding soon, I ran to grab
a new pair of reading glasses, mine having broken when going through TSA in
Denver. Not their fault, just happenstance. And thinking I’d be boarding soon I
hurried back.
I returned just in time to hear that there was a delay due
to a mechanical issue with the plane. It turned out to be a lengthy delay. We finally boarded at around 7:00pm. The
delay had been caused by a fault in the air conditioning. They must have fixed it really well; the
temperature in the plane couldn’t have been higher than 60 degrees for the
entire trip to England. One more issue before we left: the tug pushed the plane
away from the gate and then couldn’t be detached from the plane. It was 40 minutes before we were set
free. But set free we were, to head toward
the green isle of England.
Set free in the flying iceberg. It was danged cold in the plane; I mean
danged cold. I offered the lady next to me $35 for her blanket. After about an hour she gave me back the
money and demanded her blanket. It took both economy class and one first
class stewardess to separate us as we brawled for the somewhat dubious warmth
of the paper thin blanket. But at least
I was warm from the heat of battle for awhile.
That is until the sweat began to freeze onto my body. Under the armpits
was particularly uncomfortable. I
huddled under the remaining blanket, reading, attempting to ignore the ice that
wouldn’t melt from my body. First time
on a plane that I’ve not asked for more ice for a drink. When I needed more ice
I just chipped it from my forehead.
Despite the physically uncomfortable circumstances it wasn’t
hard to find pleasant things on the journey.
For example, as we approached the coast of Ireland we flew through cloud
formations that were incredible. I couldn’t help but compare them to the slot
canyons of Northern Arizona, in fact they looked just like them with the
exception that it was shades of white instead of shades of red. The light
playing off of the edges of the clouds made some look almost golden while other
areas were gray. There were layers very much like the layers of sandstone of
the slot canyons. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.
The clouds broke a little as we approached England and I was
able to see the landscape of the country. Rolling hills covered in green. There is no way to describe the shades of
green. As far as the eye could see was
green of every shade imaginable.
Sparsely dotted among the green were dots of brown, black and
white. Those were the cattle and sheep. Again, beautiful. I have a feeling that word will come up a lot
in this narrative.
Landing was uneventful, it was the part where we had to
stand up to get off the plane that was eventful. Groans of pain were heard throughout the
aircraft. Part of the pain was having to
take the blanket off in order to gather the things around us. When the captain had come on to tell us the
temperature in Manchester there were cheers and huzzahas. (We’re in England, there has to be huzzahas.)
The temperature was 59 which had to be at least 27 degrees higher than the
temperature in the plane. Did I mention
that the plane was cold, danged cold?
I needed to get off the plane in Manchester and get on the
train to Carlisle. The train station is
just a third of a mile or so from the terminal but of course I needed to check
through Customs first. My concern was walking from the landing gate to the back
of the line. It seems that a combination
of old, cold and sitting for a long time had taken away my ability to walk a
straight line. I’m sure the people
behind me walking to customs thought I’d imbibed too many bottles of Scotch whisky
on the airplane; weaving from side to side seemed to make the most sense. And walking straight was out of the
question. In the several hundred yard
journey I had to stop three times to get my bearings. I didn’t need the rest; I
needed to figure out the best path around obstacles. Obstacles that weren’t there for people who
could walk a straight line.
But I made it to customs where a particularly cheerless man quizzed me mercilessly about my
reasons for being in his country. Where I intended to stay, who I would be
with, what color of hair I had, what toothpaste I used and was I wearing one
blue and one black sock. I tried to be
pleasant with my answers but decided that he didn’t care for pleasant. I ended up using one word answers which
seemed to please him and the questions got shorter. Evidently I passed the audition because he
reluctantly stamped my passport and let me pass. More walking ensued. I was only slightly better at walking but I
managed to get out of the terminal and find my way to the ticket booth for
buying a train ticket.
It was about 7 minutes to 10, the train left at 10 and I had
an 8 minute walk to the train. It would
have been a 4 minute walk for most folk but with my then current instability it
was looking like an 8 minute walk. I
hustled to the train, jumped on the first car I came to, asked a young lady
sitting there if it was the train to Carlisle, (See the entry about me going to
Turin via Milan) and after an affirmative answer plopped into the first seat
available. 40 seconds later the door closed and the train left the station.
It was several
minutes before I noticed that the seat had a “Reserved” sticker nailed to the
back of it. I pressed the afore
mentioned young lady into service again by asking about the reserved part. She was so polite when she answered, I’m sure
she told me that I’d need to move, but I have no idea what she said. Lovely
voice, almost lilting. And she was
probably speaking English, but I couldn’t translate in my head what my ears
were hearing. In any event, at the first
stop some folk came and told me I was in their seat. Or at least I think that’s what they said. Regardless, I got up, they sat where I had
been and I found another seat. Of course
it was also reserved. A nice young lady
came by to check tickets and I told her I had no idea where I should be
sitting. Again, I’m sure she told me
where to sit but since I don’t understand the language I don’t really know what
she said. I sat where I was until the
next stop when some folk got on and indicated that I was in their seat. I moved again. This time however, seats had opened up in the
place where there were no reserved stickers on them so I made my way up
there. That meant that at that point I
only needed to worry about making sure I was actually on the right train and
getting off in Carlisle. I was and I
did.
When I got off in Carlisle I was looking for two lovely
ladies, Linda and Juli. I saw Juli first
so she got a hug, wanting one or not.
Then Linda turned to see us and like in the commercials we ran and
jumped into each other’s arms. Well, I
guess not really, I haven’t run in years and my arms were full of baggage. But when Linda ran to me I dropped the bags
and gave her a kiss to go along with the hug. It really was good to see
her. They had parked several miles from
the station thinking that I’d want some exercise after sitting for so
long. I may have needed it but I didn’t
want it. I got it regardless. But there
I was, walking along an English street, dodging Japanese cars driving on the
wrong side of the road. How great is
that?! We found the rental car and set out toward the living quarters, but
first…
We wandered through Carlisle for a bit, seeing old churches,
homes and stores that have been open since the ‘70s; the 1870s. As we arrived
in Brampton, the town in which our cottage is located, Linda pulled over so
that we could go into the supermarket. I guess she and Juli looked at my size
and said, “We’d better stock up.” So I
wandered the supermarket. The
supermarket has 5 aisles and the back where the meat counter is. About the size
of a 3 bay garage. Well stocked with stuff I don’t know what is, but lots of
it. I figured out that a crisp is a
chip. I figured it out because there are
pictures of potato chips on the bag. And
Doritos are called Doritos, meaning I could figure that one out pretty
easily. Coca Cola is the same in any
language and I found Snickers bars so I’ve got all I need. Linda and Juli bought some stuff that I still
haven’t figured out but it tastes pretty good so I don’t care what it is.
After a few more minutes of driving we came to our
abode. Great place. The cottages are
converted barns, long and narrow.
Constructed of rock squared up and made flat. The walls are 3 feet thick. They’ve added sheetrock to the inside,
attached a living room and a solarium on the outside and made them very
nice. Modern appliances and fixtures to
go along with the rustic atmosphere. We are very comfortable.
We went for a walk around the property where the cottages
are located. It is a working sheep ranch
with a few cattle included. We found
raspberries and currants growing wild along the path so Juli and Linda picked
some. We brought them home and after washing,
they tasted quite good.
Friday was a sleep-until-nine day; probably in sympathy for
my recent 36 hour marathon of no sleep.
The day’s plans were to go to Hadrian’s Wall and we figured the wall had
been there for nigh on 2000 years, it wasn’t going to go away if we showed up a
little later in the morning. Sure enough, when we got to a portion of the wall
that Linda wanted to show me it was still there. And it was spectacular. To think that the
Roman Emperor Hadrian, had this wall constructed beginning in the year 122 A.D.
and it is still visible is quite amazing.
The wall is about 75 miles long, stretching between two narrow points of
the island. At its zenith it was about 8
feet high and as much as 8 feet wide.
There were forts and watchtowers placed along the way, usually ¼ mile
apart, about a mile between forts. Many
of the foundations of the forts are still visible. We stopped at one of the most well preserved
in the area where I was able to get an idea of what went on there.
There is a museum of the Roman history in England and
specifically Hadrian’s Wall not far from where we are, so Linda took us there.
Again, I learned a lot and enjoyed the visit very much. I can’t help but think of my brother who has
always had an interest in the Roman Empire as well as medieval English
history. It all comes to life here. My
sister lives not far from where the annual Renaissance Festival is held in
Arizona and loves the history she finds there; she would like it here too.
We came back in the early evening to relax and play
cards. Cribbage is our game of choice,
each of us won a game but we spent hours talking, getting to know and
understand each other better. Juli in particular
is going through a rough spot in life so Linda and I spent time listening to
her so that we can relate to what she says more thoroughly. It was a few hours well spent. In fact the entire day was well spent.
Saturday we started at the Farmer’s Market in Brampton. Local merchants selling different types of
farm goods. Cheeses, vegetables, fruits,
honey, styles of mustard and jams and jellies.
Lots of fun. Linda and I tried lots of different cheeses and bought a
semi-soft cheese with a mild smoky flavor.
I like it more than Lin so I’ll end up eating most of it. Somebody’s
gotta do the hard part. I’ve been looking for some lemon curd spread and hoped
I’d run across some at the market but didn’t.
I’ll keep looking and be glad if I find some.
We saw a sign for a motorcycle museum so we wandered about
until we found it. As we drove by there
was a guy in coveralls in front of the place but the sign said it was closed.
We turned around and as we drove by again Linda stopped and the guy in
coveralls said something to her. She
said we were a little disappointed about the museum being closed and he said,
“Well, come on in, I’ll open it for you.”
Turns out that he’s the proprietor and the museum is housed in one of
his garage workshops. He is quite a
character. The bikes were great to look at but listening to him was even more
of a treat. He’s Scottish, with the
great accent and the phrases to go along.
He told us stories about racing on the Isle of Mann; the TT
races, the hack races and the short track races. He’s won quite a few and without boasting
told us about them. He has also raced
all over England and has the hardware to prove it. Mostly on Triumphs and BSAs, but also on a
Ducati and even an older Honda 250. The highlight for me is that there are two
automobiles in the place, one an Austin A40, the other a Jaguar Mk IX, Mike let me sit in the Jag; what a
treat. Try that at any other
museum. I loved the car; the smell of
the old leather was enough to send me into ecstasy. I’ll admit that it was a bit of a challenge
getting in with that giant steering wheel being so close to the seat, but after
I got in I fit just fine. Yes kids, you
can buy me a Jag. One of those days that
will stay with me for a long time and the adventure wasn’t really the things we
saw it was, as usual, the people we came in contact with.
After our adventure with Mike Barry, we decided to wander up
to Scotland so the ladies could take me to lunch at a cute little place they
found last week. The scenery on the trip
was fantastic. The usual green hills
filled with sheep but also some forests so dense I’m sure a mouse would get
lost. If Robin Hood was riding through
this forest he had to have the Merry Men in front of him chopping a path. Lunch was nice, I had fish and chips. Haddock this time and I’ll try some cod for
the authentic English Fish and Chips experience when I can find some. Juli ordered a Panini with cheddar and haggis
so of course I had to try haggis. Not bad. Has a taste and texture similar to a
breakfast sausage. But then again, also the texture of firm rice. I don’t know; hard to describe. I’ll try it again just to see if it’s good or
bad.
Sunday was a trip south to the Lake District. We went all
the way to the far end of the district to Windemere. Lo and behold there’s a car museum near
Windemere. I don’t know how that
happened. I mean, it’s not like I
planned it or anything…. Fortunately
there is a great tea room overlooking a nice river that the ladies could enjoy
while I enjoyed the cars and motorcycles.
Great cars and bikes. Quite a few
in the place and I took lots of pictures. I couldn’t help but think of my
brother when looking at the bikes. Like
at Mike Barry’s place the day before, there were lots of BSAs, Triumphs and
other British bikes similar to what Jeff and his friends drove when I was
younger. Even some Vincents, including a
Black Shadow. Loved the place and loved reminiscing in my head about Jeff, Fred
and Vic in the old days. Life is good now but it was good then too.
After the museum we went around the bottom of the lake and
turned north. Great scenery all the way up.
We stopped in this little town called Keswick where there was a festival
of some sort going on. A pedestrian
street with lots of shops and fun things to see. Fun was had by all.
Monday we got up early for our drive to Edinburgh. The “burgh” part is pronounced bur-ah, not
burg as in Pittsburgh. And if you pronounce it wrong someone will tell you
about it. From where we are in Brampton, near Carlisle, it’s about a 2.5 hour
drive to Edinburgh. We parked the car
just outside of the main city and grabbed a bus to the city center. The day was rainy and misty and quite cold.
So what? We were dressed for it and it didn’t really bother us. As we approached the city center we were awed
by the majesty of the sights. And then
we caught sight of Edinburgh Castle and were blown away. It is set on a rather high hill and I assumed
the bus would take us up to the top of the hill. Oh no, it didn’t; it let us off at the
bottom. We had to climb the mountain in
order to see the castle. But that’s one
of the reasons we came: to see the castle.
(And to shop along the Royal Mile; there are shops selling fudge along
the Royal Mile.) So we climbed a rather steep walkway and then came to the
steps leading through a close to the castle.
I forgot to count the steps but I’ve determined a mathematical formula
to figure out how many steps there are:
Determine the actual difference in height between the top of where you
want to go, and the bottom of where you are going, in this case about a
thousand feet. Look straight ahead with
your right hand under your nostrils, parallel to the ground. Then look up to
the top of the steps. Take note of the angle created by your right hand and
your nostrils in the upturned position. Then multiply that number by your age,
and add seventeen for each time you stop to catch your breath on the way up,
then multiply that by the number of rude danged teenagers who have no sympathy
for the old man and push past him on the way up. So in my case there are 93,234 steps up to
the street level. Obviously it took
awhile, but I made it.
And I’m glad I did. The last 10,000 steps were made easier
because I was drawn by the sound of pipes wafting down the close. As I crested
the last of the steps I looked to my right to see the piper in full kilt
regalia playing a beautiful set of pipes. I had to listen for awhile and of
course I put a few pounds in the piper’s box.
I found the ladies heading to the castle entrance and hustled a little
catch up. Turns out I needed have
hurried; we waited in several ques before we could enter the castle
proper. It was fun watching and
listening to the folk in line. There
were folk of every ilk. I think the two
young couples directly in front of us were from a Baltic country. There were Asians, Indians, Scandinavians,
other Europeans, Americans and others whose origin I couldn’t determine. All going to see the sights at the castle.
Which indeed, we did. Great fun and swell stuff to see. I especially enjoyed the Scottish Military
Museum and the history of the Scots in WWI and WWII.
Upon leaving the castle we strolled the Royal Mile. I had been commissioned to buy a scarf for a
friend so we went into the largest place selling Scottish regalia. Found some great stuff, some of which we
bought. Loved the place and would have loved to buy more; cashmere is really
soft. And expensive. We stopped in a couple of more shops
including a fudge shop before heading toward the bus stop. We did end up going by a store with a nice
shirt displayed in the window. My dear
wife saw the shirt and decided I needed one.
I ended up with one. While we
were looking at shirts, Juli found the type of wallet I use. I’ve been looking for a replacement for the
one I got in Florence several years ago.
The one Juli found is leather and tightly woven wool, very nice. Lin bought me that along with the shirt. I’m being spoiled. But I could get used to
it.
Our return from Edinburgh included a stop at Rosslyn Chapel,
late of fame in the Dan Brown book, The
Da Vinci Code. Even after seeing all the great stuff in Edinburgh, this was
the highlight of my day. Great history
and an interesting building. I liked
hearing about the construction, the decline and the refurbishment of the
building.
Our final stop of the day was to grab me some fish and
chips. Finally got some authentic take-away style fish and chips. I thought the fish was better than anything
I’ve ever gotten in the States and the chips were really good. If I have the chance I’ll grab more chips.
They weren’t crispy like I prefer them but the flavor was really good. Juli wasn’t as impressed but she likes dark
chocolate so you know her palate isn’t as sophisticated as mine; you can’t
judge anything by her tastes.
Tuesday was a lay-back day.
A quick trip to grab me some Coke and once over to a gift shop along
Hadrian’s wall where I picked up a puzzle that I saw on our first visit but
didn’t grab. Cribbage, naps, reading and
talking were the course of the day. For
dinner we went into Brampton to a nice luxury pub. The ladies had some vegetable soup that didn’t
look like vegetable soup. It was a thick, almost paste like substance that they
both said tasted very good. Not what
they were expecting but good. I had some
“triple cooked chips,” meaning that they were actually crisp on the
outside. The flavor wasn’t as good as
Monday night’s but they were crisp. If
we could get the flavor of Monday night’s in the crisp chips from this night it
would be fantastic. Interesting how
texture has so much to do with the perception of food. Finished the night by
continuing my John Grisham novel.
Wednesday included more touring. We went to a cheese maker
where Juli bought some truly awful cheese.
She tasted it, had me taste it, and then she bought some. I bought a Coke to try and rinse the awful
taste from my mouth. See, I told you
Juli has no sophistication in her palate. She bought an entire round of the
stuff, probably 6 pounds of it. I
suppose she can use it for catching mice or something, humans wouldn’t eat the
stuff. Especially when there were so many good choices. There are small cheese makers in lots of
places, each one seemingly specializing in a particular style of cheese. Some do hard rind cheeses, some the softer
white cheeses and some goat cheeses.
Others of course as well. But the
place where Juli bought her round had several nice cheeses that didn’t taste
awful. I’ll have to help her understand that cheese is supposed to taste good,
not awful. It may be a challenge; she’s a stubborn woman.
The ladies had scheduled a proper English High Tea for
Wednesday afternoon. They politely asked
if I would like to accompany them but I could tell it was an invitation made
out of obligation. I realized that they would be dressing up and they didn’t
really want me to go, knowing that I’d wear the hat from Edinburgh with the
horns and the red hair sticking out from underneath. Hey, where you gonna wear that kind of hat if
not at High Tea? They would have wanted me to take off my shirt that says “I
wish the English would speak English” and I wasn’t prepared to do that. So for
my dinner, I went back to the fish and chips place and grabbed another
authentic order, after which we went back to the cottage where I enjoyed the
evening relaxing while they had to sit and be proper in a formal room and be
served little sandwiches from a tiered platter. And then little desserts on a
different tiered platter. They had to be stuffy while I got to be relaxed. In reality, I have experienced High Tea and
really enjoyed it. But I just don’t eat
much and I thought the ladies might enjoy a final evening to themselves before
we left the country.
Speaking of which, Thursday morning we packed the rental car
with the luggage and Linda drove us back to Carlisle. After turning in the car,
we went to the train station to catch a train to Manchester. Linda had properly
surmised that in would be less stressful to spend a night in Manchester,
catching our flight the next morning. It
would have been difficult had we tried to do it all in one day. Besides, we got to see a little of Manchester
that we wouldn’t have otherwise. Linda
had found us a hotel just .03 miles from the train station and since the train
station is in the same complex as the airport we figured it would work
well. Turns out that there is more than
one train station in Manchester and although we were only .03 miles from one,
it was the wrong one. We grabbed a cab
and headed to the hotel. The hotel was situated in a neat area where there are
some fun shops and nice restaurants. We
walked the area a bit and then had lunch at a very nice Italian themed place. I
hit a grocery store to grab a soft drink to sip as I read in bed, waiting to go
to sleep.
Friday morning was the rush to get to the airport. Why is it that people rush to the airport and
then practically run to get their bags checked and go through TSA? We were two
hours early and I didn’t see the need to run. I lagged far behind Juli but
ended up in the same place at about the same time. And after my last experience in an airliner I
wasn’t sure I wanted to rush to get on one anyway. This time I dressed the part though; sweater
over a shirt and jacket in my carry on. Hat
too; don’t want the heat escaping through an uncovered head. (You can read “bald”
into that last sentence.) And plenty of
cash to offer people on the airplane for their blankets. And brass knuckles
just in case. This time I wasn’t going to suffer the indignity of being beaten
up by a 60 year old rather stout British lady.
We flew from Manchester to Philthydelphia. The plane wasn’t quite a cold as the last one
and I was able to keep all my cash. Pretty much uneventful flight. I started The
Inferno by Dan Brown Thursday night so I kept busy reading all the
way. Had to go through customs in
Philthydelphia. Is it just me or do the
personnel at customs, regardless of country, all seem to be grouchy? Not quite true; there was one fun lady trying
to keep all of us in the proper line when we had to go through security check
again. We didn’t understand the need to do it again because we’d gone through
it a few hours earlier in Manchester.
But we did it all again and no one had any nefarious items that we
saw. Doesn’t mean they didn’t have any,
just that we didn’t see it. One minor glitch was that I had to do the body
X-ray thing three times. I guess they
just couldn’t believe that a man of my age and in my state of body degradation
would have the nerve to fly. After the
third time of being X-rayed a supervisor ran over, looked at me and said, “Now
we’ll have to recalibrate the machine.”
I’m not sure exactly what that meant or what my role in it was, but I
did eventually get to pass beyond the veil into the area with the elite who had
gone through with no hassles.
Neither flight of the day was nearly as cold as the previous
“Flight of the frozen”. In fact, as the
first officer told us of the weather conditions in Phoenix, where we were about
to land, I realized that maybe I was a little overdressed for 105 degrees. I peeled off the sweater and stuffed it in my
bag.
Aaron Brewster kindly picked us up at Sky Harbor. We dropped Juli at her mother’s and we found
our way to Mesa to spend a couple of nights with the kids.
It was a wonderful trip, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Or
maybe several months. It’ll take me
several years to pay off just my part of the trip but it was well worth it. We
made home base by 9pm Sunday night, tired but glad for the adventure. Of
course, for me the best part, aside from being with Linda, was Hadrian’s Wall,
with Rosslyn Chapel and Edinburgh coming close second. Anyone who enjoys travel would have fun and
learn some history if they made the same journey.
