United Kingdom - Part II

Settling into our coach seats, the little group of 19 slowly got to know each other as we started across the English countryside. We were all either Americans, Australians, Canadians, or New Zealanders. Of course, Phil didn't waste time and called us by the friendlier terms of "Yanks", "Aussies", "Canucks", and "Kiwis".

Phil, who turned out to be very knowledgeable about not only the customary and usual history, had many tangential stories which added greatly to our trip. Whether they were true or not, we would have to wait to Google his facts later.

We came onto the Salisbury Plain after a short ride eagerly anticipating our up close and personal visit to the monolithic stones at Stonehenge. Once parked, our group ambled over the site to see the 4500 year old assemblage of 30-50 ton carved stones. Like so many before us, our group pondered how those people 40-50 centuries removed, could have manipulated those stones into place. And the bigger question - Why?

When our 45 minutes were up, we were all dutifully on the bus checking our digital pictures and silently thinking about what we had just seen. As the bus began to move and we pulled away to head to the cathedral town of Salisbury, we watched the mysterious stones fade from our view.

Salisbury Cathedral was built in 38 years (a remarkably short time for such things) from 1220 to 1258 and still has the tallest spire in Great Britain, some 404 feet. This cathedral was built after the people moved from Old Sarum to be on higher ground. The tour group had barely enough time to see the cathedral, take a quick trip onto the medieval streets of the town, and be back to Phil for bus boarding, but like so much else on this tour we only got a sampling of the sights.

We arrived at our hotel in Plymouth where we had our first unremarkable dinner. Although we felt that the food on this trip was far less than gourmet, it was not the fault of Trafalgar, but unfortunately was the norm for most food in the U.K. There were a few exceptions, but darn few.

The next event was a boat ride along the River Tamar, first espying the Mayflower steps in the harbor where the persecuted pilgrims' Mayflower began its voyage to the New World. For Diana and me, it completed the circle as we had been to Cape Cod last year and viewed Plymouth Rock, where the same pilgrims allegedly stepped off the ship to begin their lives in America. The river cruise was entertaining with Cornwall on the far side and the Plymouth Royal Navy base on the other. Our bus met us downstream to continue a drive through the Cornish countryside to Land's End, then the St. Ives artists colony (of seven wives fame). We later rode onto the Bodmin moor where we stopped for a break at the "Jamaica Inn" , made famous by the Hitchcock-directed movie of the same name, based on the Daphne du Maurier novel.

We spent another night in the Plymouth hotel, and after an early full-English breakfast we headed for Glastonbury Abbey, or rather the ruins of. Seems when King Henry VIII wanted to dissolve the church, he had his men confiscate the wealth of the many abbeys, and then ravage some in the process.

Speaking of full English breakfasts, we were amused at the baked beans and bangers (sausage) that appeared daily, along with Black Pudding, which was the even more disgusting blood sausage. Pudding it was not, although the English seem to use the term wildly. Yorkshire pudding sounds like it will be sweet and milky and although much better than Black Pudding, was a disappointment unless you knew what was coming - a piece of fried batter. Sort of like drinking water from a Coke bottle. Not bad, but not what you expected.

This post is already a little long, so we'll pick up on the next stops in Bath, and then on to Cardiff, Wales in the next segment. Cheerio! (and that's not just a little round oat cereal either).

My United Kingdom Come - A Journal, Part I

My goodness. Everyone who knows me wants a full accounting of our recent trip to the U.K. Well, maybe not everyone. Maybe only a few, but still I might as well tell the tale for all to see.

Diana and I had planned this trip for some time and when we reached the Madison airport and found our flights were not cancelled or otherwise delayed, we knew that we were in for a treat. The short hop in a regional jet to O'Hare in Chicago was uneventful, so we looked for more adventure on our overseas flight.

The plane, a 767, was much bigger although leg room was set for the last group of vacationing pygmies. Knowing that, I had upgraded to "Economy Plus" and got about 4-5 more inches of leg room. Being 6'4" tall, this was a blessing for a 7+ hour flight to London Heathrow.

On arrival and after numerous passport checks, I was to look for the Trafalgar reps who would whisk us to our hotel in Chelsea. After wandering and reading the placards held up by many other souls who had no idea who they were looking for, I stumbled on to two lovely ladies with clipboards. Luckily they were looking for us as well, and got us planted near the shuttle office to await our coach.

After the half-hour wait and the almost hour drive, we pulled up to the Copthorne Millennium Hotel at Chelsea Football Club. Long name, but would turn out to be consequential. We checked in and then not knowing anyone or anything I searched for the Trafalgar rep (another one) with no luck. The helpful concierge noted in his big notebook that the T-rep would be in the hotel tomorrow from 2:00 pm to 6:00 pm. How helpful. By 2: 00 pm tomorrow we should be in Plymouth, England looking at ruins or ships or pubs or something.

We settled in to our room and later found that the rep was indeed there and I was called to meet her in the bar. She apologized for the hotel not knowing where she was, and then gave me our needed times for the next day. Up at 6:00 am, luggage in the hall, by 6:15 am, breakfast by 7:00 am, and then meet our Tour Director (TD) and coach at 8 am. This was to be the schedule, give or take 15 minutes, for the rest of the trip. Very well organized but also very early.

By 8:00 am and group of people were milling outside, chatting as couples, and not mixing well with others. I astutely surmised that these were our fellow travellers, our coach mates, our quixotic partners in the Kingdom's lore. We all smiled at each other, no one wanting to be the first to speak, until we saw our TD walking toward us. He calls out, "Jansen's, where are the Jansen's?" I immediately freeze wondering what calamity could already have visited us.

"Your luggage has holes" said the strange and stern man who would be Phillip Rodney Anthony Horne, the Tour Director and our host, companion, and even friend for the next 11 days.

Diana looks worried until I say, "Holes, you mean the little pokes in the sides?"

"Yes, you have holes and I check this luggage carefully and don't want to be blamed for holes" said Philip.

"Those were there from many prior trips so you don't have to worry", I said trying not to appear embarrassed in front of 15 others in the group who no doubt had new designer luggage. "It's tough stuff", I offered further.

Philip smiled, harrumphed, and moved on to others.

After boarding our quite nice Trafalgar coach, we settled in when we found our that our group was only 19 (a pair if New Zealanders to be picked up at Park Lane). We could each have our own double seat and although no one claimed another seat at first, as the trip progress fewer couples troubled to sit together.

We roared into traffic in Chelsea heading westerly to begin our exciting journey across England, Wales, and Scotland. The day was sunny, our partners seemed jovial, and our TD lost a little of his gruffness within about 10 miles. It was a facade, of course. Start tough and ease up later.

Except when it comes to being on time. Philip's rules were short and succinct. "When we arrive at a stop, I will give you a time to be back on the bus. That is not a suggestion, it is the time to be back on the bus. This is not your personal tour, this is a group tour. If you think you are special and need a few more minutes than anyone else, we will wave at you as we go by. You can then arrange your own private tour. It is rude to be late and to waste the time of your fellow travelers, so I won't. I have had a few complaints from those I have left behind, but as you can see I am still working here."

None of us moved as we waited to hear if there were more rules, like not laughing, or not taking pictures, or maybe even not talking. Luckily for us, the rules were not that draconian; in fact most of us agreed with the time limits as we all had stories to tell about other "entitled" people who would arrive 10 or more minutes late with a giggle and a muttered excuse. For the next 11 days, not one person was late for anything. In fact, the rest of us would "tsk-tsk" at the last person back on the bus even when there was five minutes until the Phil Deadline.

Onward toward Plymouth, and the subject of the next post. Come back again to read about Stonehenge, Salisbury, the Mayflower folks, the British naval base, and the awful pub food we had to endure in Cornwall.

Ta ta for now (TTFN).