I’m a Tourist – Get me out of Here!

Photos from last weeks’ experimental canal boat trip on the Shropshire Union Canal.

The boat was hired from Mary Gary narrow boats, who were very helpful.

The Beeton Castle pub, at Beeston Locks rates a mention for good, no nonsense meals.

Looking south towards Edale, during last weekend’s hike around Kinder Scout in the Peak District.

Reducing one’s carbon footprint seems the fashionable thing to be doing this season. Reducing the amount of money one forks over to First Great Western railways is also an admirable endeavour. Here’s my contribution to both of these causes.

London to Bristol by bicycle.

It’s only about 100 miles as the crow flies, but considerably longer via the A4 and Kennett and Avon canal towpath. Departed Twickenham at 9.15am, arrived Bristol Temple Meads 8.25pm. The blue satnav recording shows the less than direct but reasonably cycle safe, route.

Extremely good progress to Reading, then 10 – 15 mph head winds all the way west to Devizes. I was somewhat glad to be able to drop down onto the canal, and out of the wind after a fairly hard slog.

The towpath from Devizes through to Bath was more mentally that physically tough; having to use the ‘force’ to pick out the path in pretty much pitch darkness (note to self – single LED head lights are rubbish).

The satnav recorded the moment when it all nearly went horribly wrong, with the towpath making a sharp break to the left. Lucky there was some run off before the edge of the canal:

The Bristol to Bath cycleway rates a mention. It has to be one of the best cycle facilities I’ve seen anywhere.

I’d been unable to locate it on the way in from Bath and found the A4 road route to be a real ball buster; up and down serious inclines all the way into Bristol. The cycleway however,follows the track bed of a derelict railway, so although it’s less direct, it takes the most gravity efficient path, complete with cuttings and a tunnel. It’s also tar sealed. Some real foresight went in there.

As always, it’s quite amazing what human body can do with a relatively small amount of fuel.
In fact, it seems to start working better 4 or 5 hours after you stop feeding it.

The best British place name seen on tour has to be Halfway. It’s sole claim to fame seems to be that it’s exacly halfway between Hungerford and Newbury. That’s almost as an orginal naming scheme as North and South Island.

Above – Halfway, Silbury Hill, Dusk from the summit of Caen flight; Kennett and Avon canal.

Expanding Twickenham Rowing Club’s known world, we paddled a double up to Guildford and back this weekend.

The route took in the Thames to Sheperton and the previously unexplored Wey River Navigations to Guildford.
Allowing for a few wrong turns and an ice cream stop, that’s 52 miles in 18 hours over the two days.

The Wey Navigations are a canal; normally the preserve of narrow boats and definitely not the natural habitat of racing boats.

Discovering the intricacies of steering a boat designed to go fast in a straight line through the tight bends of a canal was somewhat interesting. There’s about 2 meters clearance on each side, if you’re lucky, with plenty of tight squeezes and hairpin corners. The boat seems to have a magnetic like attraction to the reeds.

The story behind the River Wey is worth mentioning. The navigation is over 350 years old and was one of the first canal projects in England.

Back in the 1960’s the whole navigation was donated to The National Trust. The Trust are a charity; they’re also very nice people who let us park our boat at their offices in Guildford. In fact, we met alot of nice people on this trip; even the Fosters drinking youths loitering around Weybridge Town Lock who helped us with the lock doors.

The locks on the Wey are oak doored, hand operated affairs; true to the seventeenth century design. To control the water, you use a very clunky looking steel lock handle; it’s the sort of thing you probably wouldn’t be allowed to carry around on the street in London. Opening and closing the gates requires good old fashioned elbow grease. Lifting the gates and dumping several dozen tons of water is actually quite satistifying for some reason.

The times on the first and second days were remarkably close, with the guys claiming a narrow vistory over the girls (although there was mention of the guy’s leg been downhill). The break-neck average speed of 2.9mph was safely under the canal’s 4mph limit.

Distance above Teddington Time Girls Boys
Dapdune Railway Bridge 24.93 17:35 10:58
Stoke Lock No 5 23.43
Bower’s Lock No 6 22.23 16:20 12:00
Triggs Lock No 7 20.03 12:35
Worsfold Flood Gates No 8 19.33
Papercourt Lock No 9 17.83
Newark Lock No 10 – The Surprise Lock 16.93 13:45
Walsham Flood Gates No 11 16.43
Pyrford Lock No 12 15.43 13:55 14:20
Basingstoke Canal Junction 13.43
New Haw Lock No 13 12.83
Coxes Lock No 14 12.03
Town Lock No 15 11.33
Wey River Thames Lock 12:00 16:38
Desborough Channel Upper Bridge 10.43
Walton Bridge 9.6
Sunbury Lock Cut Bridge 8.16
Hampton Court Bridge 4.86
Kingston Railway Bridge 1.86
Teddington Lock Cut Bridge 0.4
Teddington Boundary Stone 0
Twickenham 08:30 19:29

Time on Thames 03:30 02:51
Time on Wey 05:35 05:40
Total Time 09:05 08:31

Wimbledon to Frankfurt by train.

I’m visiting Germany at the end of the month.
I want to try something different this time, so I’m going to wander over on the train.

The plan looks something like this:

• 164 Bus to Wimbledon Station
• Southwest Trains to Waterloo Station
• Eurostar to Brussels via the Channel Tunnel
• Mystery train company TGH from Brussels to Koln
• Deutsche Bahn ICE train to Frankfurt

It’s fairly long chain but based on previous experience, the only part which has me truely worried is the Wimbledon to Waterloo leg.

Booking this lot has gotten considerably easier since the last time I looked.

Eurostar now partners with European operators, offering changes from Brussels and Paris. Eurostar do however need a good beating with the clue-stick over fares.
It seems that they will never offer you a one way ticket for less than the full price return (The Brits inform me than this is a long standing tradition on cross Channel travel).

However, the German Deutsche Bahn now have a truely excellent English website. With typical German efficiency is provides easy access to prices and provides access to the discount offers. Truely a joy to use.

In an act of impromu tourisim, I rowed up the Thames from Twickenham in London to Henley for the Henley T&V regatta (on that map, Twickenham is just before Teddington and Henley is after Hambleden Lock). Crossing 17 locks and covering around 75km, the trip took 14 hours. This is one of the really top features of England; you can actually travel cross country by boat.

Definately a trip worth doing, although it took alot more effort to get around some of the locks than expected; the edges are set fairly high on alot of the portages, which makes it hard to get on and off the water. One of the Lock Keepers reliably informed me that this was todo with the water level at the wiers been so low this summer because of the drought. Maiden Head lock was a particually dastardy man trap, requiring about 40 minutes to clamber around.

The Locks are really well presented and dare I say, somewhat qaint. Perfectly trimmed lawns and hanging flower baskets; truely the English country side of yesteryear you’d imagine.

The Upper Thames has some lovely wide flat reaches and the 7 day river license, which gives you free passage through the locks, is a bargin at 5 pounds for an unpowered boat.

Right – you’re only half way there; a steel sign on the side of Marlow lock.

Stop Press – This little caper made the Tideway Slug (which is apprarently the place to be seen). Now you know you’ve really arrived.

Three New Zealanders who haven’t driven in nearly two years. A country none of them has seen before. No plan. Cheap flights. What could possibly go wrong?

Planning for the Ireland Road trip.

• Flights. Done
• Car. Done.

To See:

• Giants causeway.
• Killarney.
• Carrick-a-Rede
• Have to add Blarney Castle to the list – kiss the Blarney stone, can’t go to Ireland without doing that, it is just out of Cork.
  

  Blarney Castle is famous for its stone, which is traditionally believed to have the power to bestow eloquence on all those who kiss it.

  Eloquence; surely that can only help our chances..?

• Another thing we need to do is the Guinness Brewery in Dublin, so that is an easy one, see how many Guinness’s we get with the entry.
• Have to add Galway to our list
• Apparently we should avoid Limerick – unless you want to get in a fight!, it’s apparently the stab capital of Ireland and they don’t like Kiwis!… or anyone else by the sounds of it.
• Trinity College Library Dublin

The dirty little secret of this trip was that it very nearly didn’t happen. I was 3 minutes away from missing the train to Stansted, having only just been rescued by the timely intervention of a Liverpool Street bus.

5.30am seemed like a good out the door time considering the previous evenings London Rowing Club party and a certain late night call from Islamabad, but apparently the Tube doesn’t start before 6.30 on a Sunday; go figure.

The really fun thing about a Ryan Air flight to Barcelona is that it don’t actually go to Barcelona. They drop you in a place called Girona, about 100km to the north. As a consolation, they do stamp your passport at Girona, so I now have my first European souvenir.

I had a really difficult time working out why I couldn’t find the expected bus to Girona, and was making no head way with the conductors. There was a period where I thought I’d really done it this time. I but did however discover that you can get along way in Spain on the back of a 10 week Italian language course, as there is a lot of overlap between the two languages.

Girona Town is about 10km from the airport. Most people take the bus straight from the airport to Barcelona, but that sort of defeats the purpose of been on tour. Girona is at the base of a hill and has a really cool cathedral and city wall arrangement.

You can wander through the narrow stone streets, old city walls and fortifications, generally having a good old fashioned explore. It’s very much like walking through an Escher painting. One of the most mind expanding spaces encountered so far on tour, and a highly recommended detour.

Girona is on a train line to Barcelona. Apparently, I looked suspicious enough to warrant a stop and search by two undercover police at the station. In reality, there was nothing under my jacket; I really am that fat now, after 4 months in London. While digging for a passport, I was asked where I was from. A response of ‘New Zea-land’ was sufficient to secure my release, no additional questions asked. I have to conclude that no New Zealanders have caused any trouble in this corner of Spain recently.

The Spanish railway looks, er, nice. Nice straight tracks, clean looking stones and the train arrived on time; what more could you ask for? They don’t appear to be to hung up about ‘Minding the Gap’ either. I guess they’re prefer you didn’t wander around aimless on the tracks, but there’s some steps to make life easier if you�re just looking to change platforms. The ticket to Barcelona cost 5 Euros (3 Pound); the comparable trip from London to Stansted cost 13 pounds; no further comment required.

The big M logo gives away the Barcelona Metro. The Metro has some nice creature comforts; you can smoke cigars on the platforms but not in the trains; the next train counter is accurate to the nearest second, and there’s a sign to tell you which side of the train the next platform will appear on. There�s alot of snogging on the Barcelona Metro. In fact there’s a lot of snogging going on in Barcelona in general. This isn’t a bad thing, it’s just sort of different to London, where snogging on public transport seems to be really frond upon.

The Kabel Hostel was located in the corner of a plaza off the Los Rambla, the main tourist sector street. Turning the corner and seeing the plaza for the first time was like stepping back 200 years; it’s a large square with a fountain in the middle and dozens of palm trees. Given the narrow streets you have to traverse to get there, you really don�t expect to stubble onto such a wide open space, which really adds to the impact. Photos really don�t do justice to detail of the street scenes in this city.

I�d have to rate the hostel. It�s definitely one of the most sociable I�ve stayed at. The 1 Euro beer vending machine and the bar serving 1 litre plastic cups of beer may have had a little to do with this. All of my room mates where wearing University of Illinois Drinking Team shirts, which in my limited hostelling experience, never suggests a good nights sleep.

I ended up having dinner in a Tapas restaurant in the square with a Canadian from the hostel who was somewhat braver in his impromptu Spanish than I was. The concept is that multiple entrees constitute the meal. We�re weren�t completely convinced that we�re ordered the liver, but seemed to have got most of the other pronunciations correct. We where tabled up with some nice British girls, who introduced us to the local rot gut � Sangria. Sangria is a very agreeable red wine and orange juice based concoction, similar to mulled wine, but served cold. Definitely one of the most enjoyable evenings out in a long time.

The morning dawned with blue sky! The sun actually had some heat behind it for the first time since last summer back home. As with Paris, good food is really cheap in Spain; particularly fresh fruit. Even paying tourist rates on high street, a Pound goes a lot further than it does in London.

The main touristy thing which Barcelona is known for is the Gaudi architecture. Without having done any reading up on this, it was still pretty obvious that there was something different about the first Gaudi building stumbled upon; the Santa Mila. The man did not like straight edges.

The best known Gaudi building is the incomplete Santa Familia cathedral. Climbing up the x hundred spiral stairs to the top does wonders for a Sangria hangover, and yields a pretty amazing view of the city. The most mind expanding space though has to be Park Gual on the hill behind the city. From the submit of the reserve, there’s an amazing panoramic view of the entire city. The park it’s self is really stunning; again it’s like walking through an Ester painting; highly recommended.

It doesn�t feel like there�s much work going on in Barcelona. I saw maybe 3 or 4 people in suits tops. It felt like everyday is a bank holiday there.

Luton immigration seemed to be a little more thorough in their questioning this time. Apparently working for a left leaning newspaper while on a working holiday visa could make you a socialist.

‘No, I am not a Socialist’
‘Ok I�ll let you in then’

London; reassuring words abound…

It’s been quite an emotional week first week in London. What better way to celebrate the start of your second week than paying for another 20 pound tube pass?

Arrival at Heathrow was fairly uneventful; immigration didn’t seem too interested and customs wasn’t even staffed. I could have walked through with a dozen loaves of Vogels under my wing and no one would have batted an eyelid.

The Tube delivered me to Kings Cross station in around 45 minutes. Things got a little stressful at this point.

There was more hustle and commotion than on any of the New York subway stations. You have to swipe your card to exit the turn-styles and unlike the NYC system, a pack gets well and truly jammed in these things. Pushing your gear under and trying to swipe the ticket again doesn’t give any joy either as the system locks out your card after the first scan.

I ended up dragging my worldly goods back through the mob congregating behind me to seek pity from the conductor; none was forth coming. Something about ‘having to show people everything…’. Whatever.

Emerging onto the surface didn’t help the blood pressure much either; curving streets and discrete signage; no sense of which direction was North.

London imposes a lot of small physical restraints on your personal movement with the walls and people really pressing in on your personal space bubble. This quickly effects one’s emotional state of mind. The first 24 hours where quite rough.

It’s been a fairly productive first week through; communications, accomodation and transport are sorted. The cellphone works and I’ve figured out all I need to know about The Tube. The first UK hangover has been worked through and I’ve got an angle on a row.

My Tube train of choice is the ‘Bakerloo to Elephant and Castle’. The Americians where very ecomonical with their place names; hence the ‘6 train to 42nd Street’. Obviously the place names around London are alot more flamboutant.

Couriousity as to what’s really at the end of the line has yet to cost me a Zone 6 ticket, but a quick google (is google actually a verb?) found this discussion of the origin of the name Elephant and Castle.