Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 21 - Our journey home

Gatwick Airport

Morning arrived all too soon. We didn't need an alarm to wake us, though - we were both so nervous about missing flights we woke up spontaneously. I saw Hilary off at Gatwick.  You would think after being away together for three weeks, we would somehow get a single photo of us together before saying goodbye! Oh well, a photo of us, taken with four hours sleep is probably not the way to remember this trip.

A foggy morning, on the way to Heathrow

I took a connecting bus, about an hour and a half's drive, to Heathrow airport with plenty of time to make my flight at 10:25 AM.

When I got there, I found could have slept in for a while.  The flight delayed for two hours due to fog. We were finally on our way at 12:25 PM. I'm on the plane now.

Update, 1:25 PM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME.  I arrived in Vancouver as expected, about two hours later than planned, but otherwise, it was an enjoyable journey home, and a nice opportunity to complete this journal.  It's great to be home.

Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 20 - Manchester to London

Today is our last full day in Britain, and the end of our holiday. Despite the late night at Laura and David's, I was up early to upload photos and get some last-minute email correspondence done. About eight AM, Harry appeared downstairs, just as workmen arrived at their home with scaffolding to begin work on a long-anticipated exterior renovation.  It's a pretty exciting project. I took some photos of their home so that we can see what they do over the next few months.

Our train from Manchester to London

Harry and Racquelle took us to the Manchester train station around noon. We were in the heart of London by 3:30 in the afternoon. Hilary and I have become pros at getting around the London subway now. We parked our luggage at Euston Station, then, knowing we had the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening to enjoy, we set out to find the National Art Gallery.

The National Art Gallery

The gallery, with masterful art dating back to the 12th century, is truly vast - we could have spent days there, but had to make do with a couple of hours.

After dinner in a nearby Italian restaurant, we saw a hilarious, highly original comedy, "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead" at the  Haymarket Royal Theatre in London. The play, which retells Shakespeare's Hamlet, is seen through the eyes of what were two minor characters in the Bard's play, Hamlet's witless, but treacherous two friends.

Water fountain outside the gallery

The play finished at 10:10 PM, a fair distance from Euston station where our luggage was stored. Somehow, we made it back with fifteen minutes to spare before the luggage office closed for the night. Thank God.  I'd have had to go all the way back into London to retrieve our luggage in the morning, then rush like crazy back to Heathrow in order to catch my plane.

Happily, with bags in hand, we  took the underground Tube for the last time to catch an express train to Gatwick Airport, a thirty minute ride from downtown. Our last night in London, at the Premeir Inn, a very clean but low cost hotel located a short taxi ride from the airport. Turning in at close to 1:00 AM, I set the alarm for 5:00 AM and prayed we'd hear it.  Hilary has to be at Gatwick by 7:00 AM... and I have to be on the way to Heathrow, on the other side of London, in order to catch my flight at 10:25.

Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 19 Manchester to London

Dove Cottage

It's Sunday morning. The rain looks like it has settled in to stay, but Harry and Racquelle had a plan. We would drive to Grasmere, a nearby village, to visit Dove Cottage, the home where William Wordsworth lived between 1799 to 1808. During this time, he wrote some of his most famous poetry.  Dove Cottage, has now been restored to look much like it did in the late 1700's.  Our tour through the cottage was given by an engaging, and knowledgeable guide, who was clearly passionate about Wordsworth and his massive contribution to English literature.

The view from Wordsworth's garden

Later in life,after he had left the cottage, Wordsworth was made Poet Laureate by Queen Victoria in 1843, a position he held until his death in 1850. This prestigious position, for which he was given a generous stipend, was created to allow poetry to be composed for special royal occasions.

However, we learned that Wordsworth accepted the post only on the condition that he only be required to compose poetry when he is inspired to do so.  Inspiration to write royal poems must have been a bit of a problem for him. Wordsworth became the only Poet Laureate in British history to have never composed a line of poetry for royalty while he held this title.
 

Beryl Vallance's home in Manchester

We returned to Manchester in the afternoon, in pouring rain, a good time for a road trip! We went directly to Beryl's home, a cottage the heart of the Jewish district. There, we met her daughter Deborah and husband Lester, and their daughter Marian, who had brought her two children (Beryl's grandchildren), Leo, who is five years old, and little Harry, a very cute little guy who is 18 months.

Racquelle, Harry and his mother Beryl

After they left, Beryl, Harrry, Racquelle, Hilary and I had tea, and a lovely conversation that recalled early moments of our family history, her visit to Vancouver with Rubin years ago, and recent happenings with our Vallance family here in Manchester.

That night, conversations of and about our family continued at Laura and David's home.  Laura, with literally a day's notice (we had no idea of what our plans would be when we arrived in Keswick), had created a dinner party that brought together their three children (Adam, who has just graduated from Oxford, Michael and fourteen year old Eleonore ("Elly"), together with Hilary's cousin Marilyn and her husband Alan, Harry, Racquelle and the two of us. The converstation flowed from one topic to the next... movies, British shows that I had never heard of (and some that I have), David and Alan's dental practice - they have shared the same office for twenty one years - and Alan's very interesting and highly inventive business pursuits.  We then started chatting about family history, and spent time exploring our new family web site. By the time we were saying our final goodbye's, it was close to midnight - on a Sunday evening!  Hilary and I will have lasting memories of this lovley evening.

Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 18 - Keswick

We woke the next morning to a heavy rain splattering off the shale tiles outside our bedroom window.

Heavy clouds gripped the local hills in a way that reminded me of Vancouver's North Shore mountains. In fact, much of this land, though much more cultured, reminds me of Vancouver. While the trees in and around Keswick seem to be mainly oak and maple, many of the flowers, ferns and mosses are very similar, suggesting a similar climate. At any rate, the weather reports wern't kidding.  This is not a tine to go for a mountain hike - it would be just too wet.  I'm so glad we did it yesterday.

The Keswick bike shop

Instead, between intermittent showers, we walked through Keswick, exploring local art galleries and gift shops along the way.

An open air market was underway, which is always fun to wander through. Lunch was a very thin crust pizza at a local coffee shop while we were waiting for the main event of our afternoon.  For, today, of all days, was the first day the final Harry Potter movie was release world wide... even here, into Keswick's little theatre!

 And what better place is there to view this very new, very English cultural icon, but in a quaint little cinema in the Lake District?

The movie, of course, was terrific.  Believe it or not, this tiny theatre showed it in 3D.  We walked back, ignoring (for the most part), the pouring rain, and tried to decipher the nuanced and very intricate storyline.  It's clear we all need a refresher on what happened in the last book to figure everything out.

Dinner was in a special restaurant Racquelle and Harry had reserved for us, in the village where Wordsworth lived in and where some of his most well known poems were written.  Harry and I succumbed to the the standard bearer in British cuisine, fish and chips!!  The company, and conversation was delightful.

Tomorrow, we be completing our visit in the Lake District by visiting Dove Cottage, the country home of the poet William Wordsworth.  Afterward, we will be returning to Manchester to visit our family there before heading home.

Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 17 - Manchester to Keswick, and a walk in the countryside

On our way to Keswick.  What's "wrong" with this photo?

Today began with dire predictions that the weather would be soggy all weekend. We left, however, under cloudy skies, but with glimpses of sun, a hopeful sign!  Harry drove us to Keswick, about an hour's drive from Manchester.  All the time, this Canadian kept gripping the seat as cars kept coming at us from the wrong direction.  I found it bit unnerving watching Racquelle turn around in her front set, where I'm used to having the driver sit, in order to chat casually with Hilary. I'll never get used to British roads.

Unlike sunny Provence, these hay bundles are wrapped in plastic

Along the way, we passed by beautiful farmland, with green, well tended pastures....

that were bounded by kilometer upon kilometer of carefully constructed stone fences.  The work involved in constructing them, centuries old, is unbelievable.

Harry and Racquelle's cottage is at the end of the street

We arrived at Harry and Racquelle's holiday home in the morning. A tidy stone cottage built in the 1800's, it has been thoroughly updated to be a very comfortable, modern dwelling. Hilary and I were given an upstairs bedroom that overlooked the street, with windows that reminded me of Harry Potter's attic room in the second and third movies.  More about Harry Potter later.

"Dorothy Cottage" - Harry and Racquelle's holiday home

We didn't stay long. Knowing the weather might not hold for long, we wanted to take advantage of very minute of sunshine we have this weekend.  Our goal, Harry and Racquelle's favorite hike in the region, was through forests and pastures to the mountain village of Watendlath.

The hike up into Watendlath took us past mountain streams, bracken fern, over ancient stone bridges, and past stone fences, carefully constructed over the centuries.

Stan, Hilary, Racquelle and Harry

As we walked, I asked Harry how long it must have taken to build these massive fences.  He said that one estimate he had heard is that, working all day, one might build a fence about three meters long. I wondered about this, as to do so would require not only building it, but gathering stones one by one from the surrounding countryside, then carefully crafting the fence, without morter, in such a manner that it would last for centuries. Apparently courses are given by local builders on how to construct them to this day. Once a stone is picked up, Harry said, a good builder would never put it back down - he would find a perfect place for it.

One could only imagine the practical challenges in building them.  Not only for the time and work that it would take, but also because in order to make a living farming, you need to have a way to keep animals. But if it takes months (years???)  to build it, how could you keep your herd of sheep from running away? You need a fence to keep sheep, you need sheep to live, you need to live to make a fence. Obviously, the farmers were more clever than I... they found a way to do it.  It's difficulty to imagine, walking through this pastoral countryside, what a hard life it was back then.

We arrived in Watendlath, really a very small collection of farm houses, where stopped for lunch at a tea house that has been run by the same family for five generations.

Afterward, we took a trail above the village to reach a summit that looked into Rosthwaite, the next village below us.

From there, we caught a bus back to our waiting car, located in Grange.  As we rode atop the open air double-decker bus, we remarked at how far we had hiked. And how relieved we all were that we didn't have to walk all the way back to the car.

Part of the ancient stone circle at Castlerigg

On the way back, Racquelle suggested we see Castlerigg. I had no real idea of what it was until we opened the gate onto a quiet sheep pasture, and read an introductory inscription, posted by the fence.  This place is truly unique, a prehistoric circle of stones set in a pasture, bounded on all sides by a ring of mountains.  I have never been to Stonehedge, but, though

Castlerigg is clearly more primitive, there are obvious similarities.  That they had deep religious and ritual significance to the ancient people who lived in this region is certain, but no one today knows exactly how they were used.  What we found here, however, was a place of deep tranquility that made one want to whisper in hushed tones.  Nearby, several visitors could be found cross-legged or laying on the grass, deep in mediation.  It would not be for long, I imagine, for just as we were getting back into the car, rain started to pour onto the field.  I'm so glad we were able to view this very special place.

Back home, we briefly stopped again at Racquelle and Harry's cottage, then, as the rain let up temporarily, sent out for a stroll through Keswick. We ended up at Derwentwater Lake, past a boathouse, and onto Friar's Craig at the foot of the lake.

There, we found a monument dedicated to John Ruskin, an artist, social thinker and philanthropist who lived in the area during the mid 1800's. During his lifetime, he had an enormous influence in raising social and political consciousness of environmentalism, craft, and sustainability - an early champion of ideas that are critically important for us today.

Friar's Craig, at Derwentwater Lake

We made it back home just as rain began to come down in earnest. Whew. We may have to do something indoors tomorrow.

Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 16 - Djon to Manchester

View of the courtyard outside our hotel bedroom window

We woke to sunshine streaming into our bedroom window, a welcome change to the storm yesterday. It's our last day here in Djon, so we'll make the best of the good weather.  However, it's also Bastille Day, one of the most important holidays in all of France.  We were acutely reminded of this at 10:00 AM.

Hilary called me to the window - "come quick!"  A squadron of French fighter jets had just rumbled past our hotel window.

Unfortunately, all of the art galleries and museums that we might have seen today are closed. I suppose, if we had planned it better, we could have toured museums and art galleries yesterday instead of today, and deferred cycling until this morning.  Anyway, when we emerged from our hotel, the streets were empty, markets were closed and only a few stores, mostly catering to tourists, were open.

What a big difference from the bustling city we've seen over the past few days. Walking through Djon this morning was actually quite enjoyable.

Our fast train from Djon to Paris

We found a small sidewalk cafe near the main plaza for lunch, before heading back to the hotel to collect our luggage and head to the train.



 

Gare du Nord - the Paris terminal for Eurostar Chunnel

Our destination was Manchester, where Hilary's cousin Harry and his wife Racquelle live. It was a complicated journey, as we had to make connections in Paris in order to catch the Eurostar train through the Chunnel into London. From there, we had just over an hour to get from St Pancras station to Euston Station, where a third train would take us to Manchester.  It turned out that Racquelle, a lawyer who works out of her office in Manchester, had to be in London for business, so she was planning to meet us on the train to Manchester.  We just HAD to make that train!

We arrived in Paris on time, and promptly caught a taxi from the train station where the Djon train arrived to Gare du Nord, the huge train station in Paris where the Eurostar train to London departs.  We boarded on the Eurostar train, breathing a sign of relief, as, if we had missed that train, no telling when we would arrive in Manchester.

The Chunnel entrance.. next stop: Britain

Things looked good, until just before we were about to enter the Chunnel.

Then, the train stopped! And the dreaded announcement "We apologize for the delay, however, there has been a problem with one of the trains in the tunnel and we're awaiting clearance to proceed".  Apparently, for safety reasons, only one train is allowed into the Chunnel at a time.  This is perfectly understandable, as if there was ever a need to evacuate a one of the Chunnel compartments, the adjoining tunnel would be needed to give ready access. 

And so, we waited. Eventually, an announcement was made that we were clear to enter the tunnel.  By then, however, we were over 45 minutes late.  We now had less than twenty minutes to get from the Eurostar train to our connecting train in Manchester! If we missed it, we'd end up in Manchester well after midnight. Worse, once we emerged from the Chunnel, Hilary found she was having difficulty reaching Harry and Racquelle on her cell phone.

What to do?

St. Pancras station

We got out of our seats, grabbed our luggage - two 45 lb suitcases, my laptop and a backpack - and made our way to the door.  We had to be one of the first passengers off the train, or we would be swept up in the crowd streaming off, blocking a quick exit. While we were there, we chatted with a young couple who were in an even worse circumstance than us.  They had to get to Heathrow in less than an hour for them to make their flight back to Australia!

The train stopped.  I grabbed both big suitcases, which, fortunately were on wheels, and literally ran down the train platform

toward the exit, Hilary dashing behind me, trying to keep up.  One of the wheels on the luggage was malfunctioning, so it rattled noisily on the pavement.  Good thing.  It sounded like a mechanized tolley, chattering along... which, if you heard it coming at you, would be scary en ugh to make you want to get out of the way. The crowd seemed to part ahead of me like the Red sea.  Fortunately, before we left the train, we had been able to get detailed instructions from a fellow passenger on how to get out of St. Pancras to Euston station, so we had a pretty good idea where we were going. Hilary looked out for the doors, and shouted directions to me... turn right!  Look for the Taxi sign! We climbed into a waiting taxi in what must have been record time.  Minutes later, we were at Euston station, and were off running again. 

On our way to Manchester

Thank God, the train was still there.  We got in. The doors closed behind us, and in less than three minutes, the train was moving out of the station. It was THAT close!  Whew.

We made our way to our seats.  I was sweating bullets... but, we had made it!  And there, in the seat across the aisle opposite ours, was Racquelle! All was well.  Once we got though breathless greetings, we settled down to enjoy a lovely ride into Manchester. As the sun set outside our coach window, I thought about the wonderful holiday we've just had in France, and how well everything has turned out so far.  The next few days will be such fun.  I remembered Harry and Racquelle from their visit to Vancouver a few years ago and knew we shared a common love for the outdoors.

Harry met us at the train station, and took us to their home in Manchester. Tomorrow, we'll be going to their cottage in  Keswick, a little English village the Manchester Lake District.

Hilary and Stan in Europe 2011 - Day 15 - Djon - cycling along Canal de Bourgogne

Well, it was a pretty wet ride, but we made it. With a 90% chance of precipitation, what could you expect.  However, it was now, or never.... and, in the end, the ride up the Canal was definitely worth it!

The Canal de Bourgogne is part of an interconnected waterway that spans over 6,000 kilometers throughout much of France. Built in 1775 and completed in 1832, this waterway, which is 242 km long, connects the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea via the Seine and the Yonne to the Saône and Rhône.   We cycled only 20 km up the canal, to Pont de Pany., where we had lunch.

The route itself is beautiful, paralleling the canal for hundreds of kilometers, with only support vehicles and bicycles allowed on it.

Along the way, we passed several boats moving up the canal through hand-operated locks.

Just as the boat arrived, a fellow pulled up on a bicycle and ran over to open the lock in order to admit the boat.

Once it passed through, he closed the gates, and let the lock fill with water flowing from upstream.

Once filled, he opened the second set of locks to allow the boat to proceed.  Remarkably, as the boat passed through, we saw it had a Canadian flag. It turned out the family on the boat comes from Victoria!  Small world.  They bought the boat several years ago and have spent every summer traveling along France's waterways.... a very relaxing way to travel.

The rain, which had kindly held off during our ride to Pont de Pany, was not so kind on the way home. What a wet ride!  It didn't help that we managed to get lost on the way back.  I can look  back at it and smile, however, you can just imagine the scene:  There we are, asking for directions from two very helpful, but non-English speaking women, in pouring rain,  looking at a soggy map that is disintegrating before our eyes.  I think we managed to figure out the first two streets of a half dozen they gave directions for, but that was about it.  We headed off, and thankfully, started to get our bearings.  Around that time, Hilary's rear tire blew.  For a second time.

Anyway, we got back to the hotel a bit wet, but otherwise OK.  After returning our bikes (Hilary walking hers, as the tire was as flat as a pancake), we got hot showers and headed out for our last dinner in France.

The restaurant we found, located near the main plaza, was simply wonderful.  A live jazz singer, accompanied by a piano, played to a very small audience while we enjoyed a dinner that was beautifully prepared and served.  By the time the restaurant closed  (yet again, we were pretty much the last to leave), the rain had abated, and we had a quiet walk back to the hotel.  Tomorrow we will be catching a train back to Paris, with connections to the Chunnel (to London), and eventually, to Manchester for the last segment of our holiday in Europe.