Whoa! We’re Going To Barbados

Good Morning Barbados.

The summer of 1975 was a time of upheaval in the life of 13 year old Neil. I’d just lost my dad which is, of course, a major life changing event to come to terms with. I was a slightly awkward adolescent that had only recently become interested in aircraft, a hobby that would go on to shape my life. It was a long hot summer, the first of two in a row, and our planned holiday to Italy had naturally been cancelled when my dad died. Our holiday to Sorrento would have seen us fly to Naples from Manchester in a Dan-Air DH Comet. I never did get to fly on a De Havilland Comet and if there is an afterlife I’ll be having words with my dad about it. Anyway, in that hot summer of ’75 there was a song that reached Number One in the charts called ‘Barbados’ by a couple of English blokes that called themselves Typically Tropical. It told the tale of a West Indian London bus driver who couldn’t wait to get back to Barbados, in the Sunny Caribbean Sea. What’s more, it had significant aviation content with announcements from Captain Tobias Willcock of Coconut Airways. That, along with its outrageous catchiness, has made it stick in my mind for the past fifty years and I will refer to the Caribbean Sea as the Sunny Caribbean Sea to this day and have probably done so in previous blogs. Here’s the song if you would like to be reminded of it.

Why do I bring this up now I hear you ask. Well, some fifty-one years later we went to Barbados. Whoa! The story really began nine or ten months ago. Elaine and I were approaching our 40th wedding anniversary and felt we’d rather like to go on holiday somewhere with the kids. We had done this a couple of years ago when we had a week in Mexico over the New Year and enjoyed it so what better excuse than to do it again. With daughter Rebecca living in the far west of Canada we started looking for somewhere equidistant for us to travel. Barbados fitted the bill almost exactly (Troon is 200 miles closer to Barbados Airport than Victoria, less than 5% of the total distance). We were initially a bit hesitant about visiting the Caribbean having had a family holiday in St Lucia in 2001. Whilst there was nothing wrong with the place, we didn’t really enjoy it. I’ve been to Antigua in the meantime for the cricket – Calypso Collapso – which was great (apart from the actual cricket) but I don’t think there was quite enough there to keep us occupied for ten days. Barbados, however, came with the recommendation of a couple of friends of ours who have been there on multiple occasions. We found that we could hire a villa that could comfortably fit our party of seven and booked it for the end of April just as the Caribbean peak period had ended. That saved us quite a bit of money. We then booked the flights, found some flights for Rebecca and Harry that arrived at a similar time to ours and booked them too. All we had to do was pay the accommodation balance, sort out some other bits and pieces and turn up at Glasgow Airport on the 19th April, the actual day of our Ruby Wedding anniversary. Our son Nicholas and his friend Mollie were there to join us on the 07:30 flight. That flight got us to Heathrow where we had to transfer from Terminal 5 to Terminal 3, meet up with our friend Caryn who was joining us on this adventure and catch flight BA255 to Bridgetown Grantley Adams Airport. Meanwhile, Rebecca and partner Harry flew overnight from Victoria to Toronto and then onto Bridgetown beating us by an hour and a half. Part of booking the villa early was complimentary VIP arrival service which meant someone met us off the flight and guided us through priority lanes at immigration and customs which was great as the airport was a bit busy at the time and we were last off the plane. The VIP arrival people also made sure we met up with Rebecca and Harry and called the minibus taxi we had pre-arranged to collect us and take us to the accommodation. Charlene, whose taxi had an impressive gear stick, duly appeared and a 45 minute drive took us to our villa.

Villa Calliaqua with pool cottage. A magnificent base for a Barbados holiday.

Villa? Yes, we had hired a villa though it could also be described as a big house. When we were planning this break we had considered hotels, all-inclusive or not, Airbnbs and any other type of accommodation you can think of with the possible exception of tents. We came across a number of companies that offered villas with pools. They looked fantastic as they always do on the websites and we were severely tempted to get one of them. They are not cheap but they accommodate a lot of people. What’s more, they all appeared to come with staff. Some provided you with a cook and housekeeper. Slightly superior properties gave you a chef and butler. We narrowed it down to two, one of each and in the end plumped for the former. It wasn’t because it was a bit cheaper, welcome though that was, it was down to the fact it had a fresh water pool rather than saltwater. The villa was called Calliaqua and was situated on Sugar Hill Resort near the town of Holetown, midway up the west coast of Barbados. We booked it through a British based agent called Hammerton Barbados which as the name may suggest, specialises in Barbados villas. They answered our many queries but even so, we had a bit of trepidation when we arrived. Would the villa be ok? How would it work with the staff? What would be for dinner when we got there? We needn’t have worried of course. The villa had five bedrooms. Well, to be precise, the villa had four bedrooms and a cottage by the pool that can, and was, used as a fifth. Prices are tiered for three, four or five bedroom occupancy. Rather than give you the full brochure description I’ll give you a link to the listing on the Hammerton website as they do it better than me. I will only add that we were not in the least bit disappointed. Villa Calliaqua.

Al fresco dining on the verandah, the balcony and the view from it.
Garden visitor.

The ‘staff’ were there to greet us. I’m going to stop calling them ‘staff’ from now on as that does them a disservice. The idea of having people ‘to do’ for you might make you feel a bit uneasy, harking back to colonial days. Our ‘staff’ were people and wonderful people at that. Celeste and her daughter Anika were the housekeepers. Janelle was the cook. All three worked eight hours per day, six days a week based in the kitchen and utility rooms which got rather hot. On some days we altered the hours to give them some extra time off which was the least they deserved. Housekeeping included getting your laundry done daily – had we realised we could have packed much lighter! – whilst Janelle would produce three hearty meals a day if we wanted, breakfast, lunch and dinner. She would have shopped for the food too had we wanted her to though after the first visit we tended to visit the local Massy’s supermarket ourselves to get the supplies. We decided on the menu when we first met her. This was basically for her to cook local dishes as she saw fit. Local dishes are good! We did have some requests like pizza for lunch one day and pancakes (crepes) for breakfast but most of the time we left it up to her and were always more than happy with what she made for us. Tipping culture is a thing out there and there were suggested amounts, purely at our discretion you understand. However, we had no hesitation in generously tipping these lovely ladies at the end of our stay. They had made a good holiday great and deserved it.

Janelle, Celeste and Mika

We were there for ten days. Just what do you get up to for ten days in Barbados? Naturally, a lot of time is spent relaxing either on a golden, sandy beach or by the pool. The villa’s pool was really good so we tended to sty there for chill time. Chill is a bit of an oxymoron of course, Barbados is just 13 degrees of latitude from the equator, right in the tropical zone and has temperatures to match. Never too hot though. During our stay the daytime temperature was in the low 30s celsius. That heat did generate clouds so the sunshine wasn’t uninterrupted but we only suffered rain on a couple of occasions. Peak time for Barbados is from Christmas to Easter where the temperatures are a degree or two lower and the humidity is less but no matter when you go it is going to be warm. We were there at the end of April, taking advantage of off-peak prices but still before the rainy season or the humidity got oppressive. Sitting in the sun, or indeed the shade along with mucking about in the pool is all well and good but doesn’t make for an interesting blog so it is just as well we did some other stuff too.

Compared with my previous experience of the Caribbean, just two whole islands, Barbados has a plethora of activities that can occupy your time between cocktails. Having a hire car is a good idea. There is a good network of buses on the island but schedules and frequency are a secret only the locals will know so we decided car hire was best. We needed one to get the shopping anyway. In fact as there were seven of us we got two. With them you can discover the rest of the island. We ventured out to the east coast to a place called Bathsheba which has the Andromeda Botanical Gardens to visit as well as an interesting beach with sea stacks and rock pools. Going in the sea here is a big no-no unless you have a surfboard and are a competent surfer. However, you can bath in the rock pools at low tide which we intended to do but didn’t. There’s a nice restaurant for lunch too called Zemi.

Andromeda Botanic Gardens with a couple of roses (Elaine and Caryn), some pretty flowers and me holding up a Bearderd Fig, the tree which gave Barbados its name.
Bathsheba Beach with Harry the king of the rocks.
Not quite Hopewell Rocks on the Bay of Biscay perhaps but a pretty decent effort with a bonus beach dog.

At the very top of the island is Animal Flower Cave. This is a sea cave that you can visit (for a fee) and it too has a rock pool. This time some of us did take the plunge which was pretty cool, both literally and figuratively. The cave gets it strange name from the anemones that grow in the pools that react to stimulation in what’s, presumably, an animal like manner. Sadly there’s not many of them left, probably because tourists like us go there and keep prodding them although the current guardians of the cave are supposedly taking more care of it than the original owners.

Animal Flower Cave…
…where you can go for a swim.

Welchman Hall Gully is situated in the middle of the island next to the highest point in Barbados. The gully is a collapsed limestone cave that forms a valley in which our guide, Ashae, told us all about the flora that occupied it. Not all is native, the site having been developed back in colonial days into another botanical garden by a plantation owner’s wife who presumably lived in Welchman Hall. It now belongs to the Barbados version of the National Trust and was a lot more interesting than a load of trees should be. That was mainly down to the guide but also because it is a home to a couple of troupes of Green African monkeys. These monkeys were brought over in colonial times as a food source for the plantation workers but no one told the monkeys that and they are now found all over the island. We enjoyed seeing them – who doesn’t like a monkey – but we needn’t have gone anywhere for monkey action as we got them in the villa garden later. Monkeys or not, Welchman Hall Gully is worth the trip along some very rough roads.

Welchman Hall Gully Guide Ashae was also the group shot photographer.
Botanical stuff including nutmeg, not a native plant.
Welchman Green African Monkeys, not a native animal but don’t tell them that.

If you are looking for a bit more of white knuckle experience there are a couple of options. We passed on the zip wire but three of us did take the chance to indulge in a bit of off-roading in a Dune Buggy with a company called Off Road Fury. This takes place in the south of the island near Brighton Farmers Market of which more later. We had two buggies between the three of us and we able to swap between driver, passenger and solo at a number of stops as we sped at alarming speed (up to 65kmh if you push down on the accelerator really hard) through sugar cane fields and, surprisingly, past the nodding donkeys of oil wells. I can’t emphasise how much fun I found it and I believe Harry and Mollie felt the same. They even have a break to have a super soaker water fight for no other reason than they can.

The obligatory ‘no helmet but yes balaclava’ shots.
Dune Buggy Heroes.
The oilfields of Barbados and three Super Soaker Assassins.
It might seem a little tame in the video, believe me it isn’t!

For a more traditional tourist attraction, at least for your average Brit, you can head to the north of the island and visit the St Nicholas Abbey Heritage Railway. Nicholas Abbey isn’t an abbey, it is an old colonial house connected to the Cumberbatch family of Benedict fame. That isn’t really interesting enough to visit in itself so they went and built a heritage railway in what was once a sugar cane plantation and is hoping to become one again. It isn’t original though a railway did once run from Bridgetown up the east coast of the island. The new ‘heritage’ line tells the story of that and was built to the same 2ft 6in gauge as the original. A 100 year old German built steam locomotive hauls three open sided carriages rather slowly to a nice lookout point before returning and then heading around a newly completed loop amongst the former sugar cane fields. They have two steam locos and a diesel back up which was required for later tours when ours conked out as we were approaching the end of the journey. As part of the quite pricey ticket you get to wander through the downstairs of the house and to visit the rum distillery, tasting the different rums produced which were pretty foul neat but I’m sure they’d make a decent cocktail.

St Nicholas Abbey Heritage Railway and St Nicholas himself on the footplate giving the whistle a toot.
Excellent ventilation carriages.
St Nicholas Abbey and one of the two rooms we saw.
Gin thingy and more importantly, the station cats.

Arguably the best trip in Barbados is to take a catamaran ride to see the turtles. Turtles are a big thing in Barbados with murals of them all over the place. You can sometimes see them laying their eggs in the sand and those eggs hatching though we didn’t. The catamaran trips, of which there are several companies to choose from, almost (but not quite) guarantee turtle sighting and supply snorkelling equipment for you to go and join them in the Sunny Caribbean Sea. Just three of us decided to go on the trip, the others slightly worried about the barf potential of the voyage. As it turned out, the only real chance of getting sick was from imbibing too much of the included alcohol with another beer or rum punch arriving just as you’d finished the last one. The company we used was called Silver Moon who have three or four vessels, ours was Silver Moon 3. The passenger limit is 12 or 13 and the three of us (me, Nicholas and Mollie) were joined by a party of Canadian ladies from Ontario, a Scottish couple making their first venture out of their all-inclusive resort and a mum and her two teenage kids from New Hampshire. Transport to the port in Bridgetown is provided. We had opted for the twilight cruise which was departed in the afternoon, arriving back in Bridgetown shortly after the sun had set. We headed north under sail up the west coast, passing Holetown and our villa on the way, and after an hour or so we stopped and those who wanted to donned the snorkelling gear and jumped into the ocean. Now, I’m not a very confident swimmer and hate the taste of salt water. I had, however, been enjoying beer and rum punch which was enough to break my better judgement and armed with an inflatable lifejacket to stop me from sinking I followed the rest into the briney. In total there was one crew member with some bits of fish, twelve self supporting passengers, one big girl’s blouse in a life vest and two turtles named Bobby and Christina in the same bit of the Sunny Caribbean Sea. I quickly realised that I most certainly wasn’t going to sink and began to enjoy swimming with Bobby and Christina. The pair are presumably regular visitors to the catamaran tours, hence the names. It was all rather special though I don’t suppose everyone would approve. The turtles seemed happy enough though and weren’t going to miss a free dinner. Following the snorkelling we were served with a Bajan dinner that had been prepared on board. Some tours do this, others provide snacks. Then we headed back south under power as the sun set over the Sunny Caribbean Sea whilst the rum punch was flowing once more.

Silver Moon 3 is over there somewhere and just to prove we were under sail, here’s a mast selfie.
It was quite a relaxing voyage.
Me being a jessie in my Mae West and Mollie bobbing around unaided.
Bobby and Christina or maybe Christina and Bobby.
Mollie was our Jaques Cousteau.
Enjoying the sunset over the Sunny Caribbean Sea*.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the Caribbean if there was no golden, palm tree edged beaches. We only visited a couple though, the one to the north of Holetown and another one at Carlisle Bay near Bridgetown. Both were golden and glorious, the palm trees were evident and beach bars provided the required amounts of hydration. If you are a beach person I imagine they will be right up your alley. Whilst we can appreciate the aesthetic of a beach we aren’t really beach people, possibly because right up your alley is where the sand gets. The young ‘uns lasted longer there than the old ‘uns and as an aside, on the way back from Carlisle Bay they stopped to get a photo outside the birthplace of Rhianna. She’s a singer you know, and the most famous Barbados citizen after Gary Sobers. In fact, Gary has probably been relegated into second place by now.

The golden sands of Porter Beach near Holetown.
Savvy on the Bay, part of Carlisle Bay near Bridgetown. Rebecca and Harry go for a dip, Elaine, Caryn and I go for a walk.
The younger members of the party at Rihanna’s house. She wasn’t in.

There are other attractions but they will have to wait until we go back. Instead I’ll talk about eating out. There isn’t much to say though as we tended to eat at the villa as Janelle was a remarkably good cook. It meant a few visits to Massey’s Supermarket but saved us hunting out a restaurant every day. We did eat out a few times though. We went for breakfast at Brighton Farmers Market. It’s been going for 25 years now so is a bit of an institution with folk turning up from all around the island every Saturday morning. It’s mainly food outlets with a few craft stores. I can’t say I was overly impressed but some folk love it. A popular place for lunch is Caboose, situated in Speightstown a few miles up the coast from where we were staying. The fun thing is it is a boat that has been dragged over a small seawall, across the road and onto a bit of park land where it has been turned into an unlikely cafe. They only really do fish cutters (sandwich by any other name) along with beer and rum punch but it is good and a genuine Bajan experience at a relatively modest price. Another institution is the Oistins Fish Fry. This takes place, fittingly, in Oistins on the south coast and on a Friday evening is basically a big party with a number of fish cafes selling, well, fish. (Non-fish dishes are available) One of the stalls seemed particularly popular so we ignored it and went to another one called Fred’s as we liked the name. We had our dinners, mainly fish. I went for dolphin. Now, before you send an angry posse round to my house to protest, it wasn’t actual dolphin, it is a local fish called Mahi Mahi. It was rather good. The other place we ate out was La Cabane. This is a beach bar and restaurant that is situated down the coast towards Bridgetown. It has its own stretch of beach though not really, all beaches are public in Barbados, and is a great place to watch the sun go down and get those all important instagram photos. As a restaurant it doesn’t have an extensive menu but the food is quality. We recommend going but if you do take a torch. It was an interesting experience eating in the dark.

Caboose. Shame to waste an abandoned boat.
Good customer service and a fully loaded tuna cutter.
Oistins Fish Fry at Fred’s Bar and Restaurant.
Not the most colourful food you will see but damned tasty. Mahi Mahi on the right.
La Cabane has a bit of a swing thing going on.
Including this one over a beach which provides good portrait opportunities.
I would show you the food but it was a bit dark by the time it arrived.

Practical information:

Money – the currency is the Barbados Dollar which is fixed to the US dollar at a rate of 1.98:1, in effect two Barbados to one US. Everywhere accepts either currency at the 2:1 rate which makes things nice a simple. Electronic payment is very widespread, though it’s a good idea to have some cash for the odd place that doesn’t have the facility and for leaving tips. There are ATMs in the supermarkets.

Driving – Brits will feel pretty much at home here. They drive right hand cars on the left hand side of roads full of pot holes. Actually, the roads are in a pretty bad state, especially the minor ones. The main roads are ok but road markings are largely faded which makes night driving a bit tricky. It’s definitely worth getting a car though if you want to get around and see the island.

Arrival – Bridgetown Grantley Adams Airport in on the south coast. It’s not big and can get a bit crowded when a number of long-haul flights pitch up at the same time. The VIP Arrival service which we were offered as a special promotion by the Villa’s agent is great and got us through the arrival formalities in just a few minutes. We didn’t have much in the way of queues on the way home. There isn’t much to do in the airport whilst you wait to board your flight though there is a basic lounge you can pay to enter where you can get a bit of peace and quiet. If you are lucky enough to be flying Business Class, BA and Virgin have their own lounges.

Prices – I would never say that Barbados is a budget destination. Prices of everything tends to be relatively high, though not extortionate. Buying our own food in the supermarket allowed us to compare prices with home and it is, on the whole, akin to doing your shopping at Marks and Spencer rather than Asda. In fact Massey’s has a tie up with Waitrose in the UK and sold quite a bit of their branded stuff. Attraction entry fees are perhaps a bit higher than you might expect and eating out is too. Car hire wasn’t particularly expensive though it pays to shop around. We used Stoutes Car Hire which was significantly cheaper than the company offered by Hammertons. Petrol was similarly priced to home and each car used about £40 worth over the course of the nine days we had them. As for the catamaran tour, we ended up paying a bit more than we had intended as the cheaper one, recommended by friends, was full by the time we’d decided who was going.

Accommodation – If you clicked on the link above you will have worked out the cost of the villa by now. Along with the villa you get access to the Sugar Hill estate’s facilities and also membership of the Fairmont Hotel club down at the beach. The aforementioned staff are included in the price though you will almost certainly want to tip them at the end of the stay. Booking through Hammertons was easy and they were a good company to deal with. There are other companies that offer villas too, it seems to be quite a normal form of accommodation on the island. Of course you don’t have to stay in a villa, there are plenty of hotels from all inclusive to basic situated mainly on the south and west coasts.

Climate – Tropical. Hot but not too hot, can be a bit rainy but when we were there we only saw a couple of showers. with temperatures hovering just above the 30C mark. Peak time is the northern hemisphere winter. Summer can be very humid and have more rainfall and whilst it has a hurricane season like the other islands, it hasn’t actually suffered a one since the 1950s. I’d say that when we went was ideal, you have the advantage of it being (relatively) inexpensive, it is largely dry and the humidity is manageable.

Mossies – Take some insect repellant. The mossies are determined little buggers. If you are lucky, like Elaine was, they may decide you are not quite tasty enough and leave you alone. If you are unlucky, like everyone else but particularly me and Caryn, your legs will quickly be bitten to high-heaven and you will be cursing the little sods for much of your holiday. A good blast of Veto Mosquito on all your exposed skin certainly helps.

Summary

Barbados delivered for us. That may have been due to our specific needs for this holiday but unlike our previous trip to the Caribbean we were quite sad to leave. You can go there purely to relax or, like us, mix relaxation with a bit of tourism and are unlikely to be disappointed. We had a fantastic ten days there and would consider it as a destination for a family meet-up again. Oh, and the next time there’s an England cricket tour of the West Indies, Kensington Oval in Bridgetown, here I come.

Footnote. Devastating news: I discovered that Barbados isn’t really in the Sunny Caribbean Sea. Typically Tropical got it wrong! The Caribbean Sea is situated to the south and west of the big arc of Caribbean Islands that stretch from Cuba to Trinidad. Barbados is an outlier, 100 miles to the east of that chain of islands and therefore completely surrounded by the Atlantic. I don’t care though. To me Barbados will always be the Sunny Caribbean Sea.

Farewell Barbados.

Athena

Athens: Parthenon, Acropolis, Greek Flag and rooftop hot water tanks.

This blog is not really about the Greek goddess of wisdom but about the city that is named in her honour, Athens. I’m just trying to be a clever dick. If any nuggets of wisdom are contained within the next few paragraphs, it is purely coincidental and, to be honest, rather unlikely too. Elaine and I have done some early spring city breaks in the past year or two, Alicante, Malaga and Seville to be precise, and have enjoyed them but I never felt they were worth blogging about beyond my daily Facebook updates. This year our early spring break actually took place at the end of winter and for a change did not involve Spain at all. Athens was chosen for two reasons. The first was direct flights from Edinburgh. We would have preferred to fly from Glasgow (or even better, Prestwick) but destinations from there are limited. As we had done with Seville last year, and indeed Finland a few weeks ago, we bit the bullet and headed over to Scotland’s busiest and worst airport for our easyJet flights to and from Athens. The other reason for choosing Athens was that Elaine’s niece and her fiancé are working there. Not only would it be lovely to see them, they also have a rather nice apartment with plenty of spare bedrooms and were happy to put us up for four days. The third of those two reasons was we hadn’t been to Athens before. The capital city of Greece is one of Europe’s great tourist destinations thanks to its 3500 year history when it was the home of one of the world’s great ancient civilisations. So yes, it’s probably worth a blog even if I’m hardly an expert on Ancient Greece even after spending a few days there.

This is maybe Athena after whom Athens is named. Or maybe she was named after Athens.

We arrived at Athens Airport on a Sunday evening, a bit late due to the easyJet captain going sick after we had pushed back at Edinburgh. At least it wasn’t after we got airborne. Another captain was found and off we went. Justine and Jack were there to meet us and give us a lift back into town. This was particularly useful as Athens is a big place and the area their apartment is in, whilst central, was a mass of narrow roads and may have proved a bit tricky to find. As it turns out, they are on the 8th floor of an apartment block which in a low rise city like Athens is quite high. This means they have a fine view of Athens’ most famous landmark, The Parthenon. Set high on a hill, The Parthenon is part of the Acropolis, a citadel of temples that date back to 500 bc and when you think of Athens, it is probably the first thing that comes to mind. It was on our agenda of course.

How’s this for a balcony view?

Monday morning duly followed Sunday evening and with our hosts working we were left to discover Athens. We are simple souls when it comes to discovering a new city and we set off to walk around the place. Whilst a bit hilly, most places of interest are within walking distance of where you are likely to be staying. It was certainly the case with us. The Panathenaic Stadium was just around the corner from the apartment and whilst we left that until later to discover, we headed to the foot of the Acropolis Hill passing various bits of antiquity on the way. We wound our way anti-clockwise around to the far side of the hill to the main entrance, realising later that there was a less busy entrance nearer had we gone in the other direction. Not to worry though, we passed through Anafiotika, a small settlement built on the side of the hill. The small, colourful houses and narrow passageways and stairs make it a very pretty area. The story goes that in the mid 19th century, construction workers from the island of Anafi were brought in to work on King Otto’s palace. They built their own houses in the style of their island homes and nearly fifty of them are still occupied, not, presumably, by their original owners. It was here we saw our first cat. We saw lots more subsequently. On the north side of the hill we discovered the main entrance to the Acropolis and after a relatively short queue for the tickets, headed through the gate.

We were there in March. There were plenty of tourists there but relatively speaking it was fairly quiet. Tickets are timed for entry as numbers are restricted. At peak times it is almost certainly better to obtain your tickets online before you go and time your arrival accordingly as it gets notoriously busy. A standard adult ticket costs €30, quite pricey but hey, it’s the Acropolis for goodness sake. Restoration work is ongoing and they’ve got to pay for it somehow.

Anafiotika, colourful houses, stairs, alleyways and lemons.
The main gate to the Acropolis from the outside and in.

Whilst the main attraction of the Acropolis is the Parthenon, there are plenty of other things to see. The Odeon of Herodes Atticus for a start, a stone amphitheatre where concerts are still performed. The stone structure dates back to 161AD and is a Roman addition to the hill. A larger theatre, the Theatre of Dionysus, lies to the south though is now a ruin. That dates back to fourth century BC. Above the theatre on top of the hill lies the Acropolis itself. Literally ‘highest point city’, the Acropolis had been settled from at least the Neolithic period thanks to its strategic situation. It was in the fifth century BC that the buildings whose remains, erm, remain were built. Those buildings were a fancy entrance gate and a number of temples as even in a civilisation that gave the world democracy, appeasing the gods was still important. Times move on and gods change. More to the point, wars happen and buildings get blown up and fall down as happened in 1687. The temples are all ruins, some more ruined than others. Restoration work has been going on since the early 1900s and is currently at the stage of repairing the restored bits as they didn’t make a great job of it the first time. The Parthenon has scaffolding over one side and you can’t go inside, not that there’s a roof to form an inside in which to go. Despite this, it’s still an impressive building considering the 2400 years it has been standing there. It was dedicated to the Goddess Athena, daughter of Zeus, who lends her name to the city in which the Parthenon stands. Smaller but almost as impressive is Erechtheion, another temple dedicated to Athena, where the Porch of Maidens holds up part of the stone roof. They were tough women in Ancient Greece. Most of the statues that used to adorn the site are in the nearby Acropolis Museum (and the not nearby British Museum but let’s just gloss over that for the moment…) and a lot of debris from the collapsed temples is deliberately left lying around. It is, apparently, number six in the list of most visited attractions in the world but don’t let that put you off. If you go to Athens you have to go. I think it might be the law over there.

The Odeon of Herodes Atticus with and without us in the way. There’s a sneak preview of Phillapopus Hill too.
Parthenon from assorted angles. They loved a Doric column did the Ancient Greeks.
Just to prove we were there.
Erechtheion, a temple like the Parthenon dedicated to Athena.
The Porch of the Maidens, perhaps my favourite bit of the Acropolis. Go girls!
Most bas-reliefs are in the museum. I think this one on the Parthenon is a modern copy. If not it has survived the millennia very well. This column probably wouldn’t pass the inspection nowadays.
There’s a rocky outcrop you can scramble up to get this shot of the Acropolis, though the Parthenon is strangely absent.

Having built up the Acropolis, we only spent an hour or so there which left us the rest of the day to fill. Having been up one hill we decided to go up another two. The first one was Philopappos Hill. Perched on top is the Phillapopus Monument, a Roman tomb containing the late Prince Philopappos who departed this mortal coil in 116AD. On it’s own it probably isn’t worth the walk up the hill as you can see it from a distance. The hill also contains Socrate’s Prison, some caves where the famous Greek philosopher, who according to Pythonic legend was permanently pissed, was incarcerated for annoying some gods. It probably isn’t but never mind. That too isn’t worth a trip up the hill. However, the views across to the Acropolis are lovely and in the other direction you can observe Athens spreading out towards the sea. In itself this is probably worth the, frankly, quite easy walk up to the top but sealing the deal is the fact that the hill is home to wild tortoises. Not that tortoises get very wild of course. We saw one and gave it a dandelion. We felt rather pleased with ourselves.

Socrates’ Prison (maybe) and the Phillapopus Monument (definitely).
Views from the hill towards the sea to the west and you know what to the east.
The real star of Phillapopus Hill.

The third hill of the day was Lycabetus Hill, the highest of the lot. To get there we had a bit of a walk that took us back past the Acropolis into Monastiraki, a busy shopping area, passing the Roman Agora and Hadrian’s Library, two areas of Roman ruins. Nearby was the Ancient Agora of Athens which we didn’t visit but probably should have. We did have a quick look round the Metropolitan Cathedral of Athens, which compared with all these antiquities is a relatively modern building from 1862. After this it was on to the hill which has a funicular to make getting to the top a bit easier. I’ll emphasise the word ‘bit’ as the lower station is half way up the hill and many steps had to be climbed to get there. Unbeknownst to us, the funicular runs entirely in a tunnel so no sweeping views were available during the ride. Had we known we might have saved the €13 round trip fare each and continued to walk to the top as we were sweating anyway. At the top there are great views and a small chapel. There’s also a restaurant which serves cold beer. To be honest, we wouldn’t rush back up, either on foot or in the funicular. There aren’t any tortoises for a start and the views are just as good from Philopappos Hill. It does do beer though.

The Metropolitan Cathedral of Mary of the Annunciation, Athens. Suitably blinged up in the Orthodox manner on the inside.
Many steps were climbed to get to a funicular which I have to say was a tad disappointing.
The top of Lycabetus hill with a small church and views of the sprawl that is the Athens.

Moving away from the chronological order of this trip, quite hard for an aspiring OCD bloke like me, I’ll move on to the Wednesday when we had another wander around Athens, avoiding hills this time. We did get to see the Presidential Guard do their thing. These gentlemen, dressed in traditional costume, guard the tomb of the unknown soldier in front of the main parliament building and are a popular tourist attraction with their pom-pomed shoes and silly walks (another Pythonic reference there). Here’s a tip though, rather than stand outside the parliament building where you might get caught up in some demonstration or other – the Greeks love a demonstration – nip to the other side of the park where there are more of them guarding the Presidential Palace. These disciplined fellows attract fewer tourists than their colleagues despite putting on a similar performance. Enjoy the videos, or just scroll down for the stills.

The Presidential Guard guarding the president by means of silly walks.

We felt we ought to visit at least one museum whilst we were there. The obvious one to go to was the Hellenic Airforce Museum but it was out of town and only open at weekends anyway. That left us with only a dozen to choose from and we decided that the Acropolis Museum was the one. It’s a nicely laid out museum containing more marble statues than you’ll otherwise see in a lifetime. There’s a free audio guide if you want to learn more but we were happy just wandering around looking at the exhibits, most of which seemed to be statues of Athena or Aphrodite. Pretty girls sold more back then as they do now. There were quite a lot of bas-relief’s of centaurs being slain by gods as that is precisely the sort of thing the Ancient Greeks wanted their gods to do. It makes sense. You don’t want centaurs roaming around your Acropolis leaving their mess everywhere. There is a fair bit of excavated Old Athens beneath the museum that you can walk around though we ran out of time having spent some time in the cafe enjoying an apple pie in the shadow of the Parthenon. The view never gets old which is ironic considering what you are viewing has been around for two and a half millennia.

Museum exhibits surreptitiously snapped: Arfur, Centaur Ride and My God Has No Nose. Not the official names.
Ancient Athens. To wander round the streets, get there before the Museum is closing.

A late flight home meant we had much of Thursday to fill too so we decided to pay the €12 entry fee to enter the Panathenaic Stadium. The history of this rather impressive structure goes back 330BC and as a marble stadium to 140AD. However, what you can see now dates from the mid-19th century when it was excavated and then re-marbled in time for the first modern Olympic Games in 1896. You can see the stadium from the outside, both from street level and from the top but buying a ticket allows you to climb the terracing (steep) try out the seating (hard) and run round the non-olympic standard running track. You can also walk up the tunnel that the athletes would use to enter the stadium. This leads to a small museum with displays from the 1896 and subsequent Olympic Games. Following this we had another wander through Anafiotika and Roman Agora before heading back to the apartment to pack and depart.

Panathenaic Stadium by day for nothing.
Panathenaic Stadium by night for nothing.
Panathenaic Stadium from the inside for €12 per head.
Mister Floppy one side, Mister Stiffy the other. I have absolutely no idea of the relevance of this statue to the stadium.
The walk of heroes and the hero himself.
Gate of Athena (who else?), the Roman Agora and Hadrian’s Library.

What about Tuesday? I was coming to it, don’t get shirty with me. One thing you can do when you come to Athens is to get out of Athens for a day. The port of Piraeus is a half hour ride on the Metro away and from there many ferries of different shapes and sizes serve a multitude of Greek islands, some of which are ideal for day trips. We had considered Hydra and Aegina but Justine suggested Agistri. Agistri is Aegina’s tiny neighbour, an hour away from Piraeus by fast cat. There isn’t much there but it does have a bike hire place next to the port. What’s more, they do e-bikes which sealed the deal for us. The ferry timings were such that we had some time to kill in Piraeus before the crossing, and about four hours on the island. When we arrived the bike hire place was devoid of life though there was a phone number to call. We eventually got our bikes and a brief explanation of which buttons to press and off we went. The bikes made light weather of most of the hills we encountered though there was one where it gave up the ghost and we were sweating a bit by the time we reached the top. There isn’t a lot of paved road on the island and we had covered pretty much all of it after a couple of hours but it was good fun even though the saddles weren’t the most bottom-friendly I’ve ever encountered. Being out of season there wasn’t much open on the island. There is a distinct resort area that was closed and just a couple of villages for the permanent population of around 1000 people. There were a couple of tavernas and a restaurant near the port to service the needs of the handful of visitors that make day trips on an overcast March day.

Ferry tickets can be bought at the port or online in advance. A return ticket to Agistri cost €35 by fast catamaran which served Aegina before continuing to Agistri. There are loads of ferries that just serve Aegina, the traditional ones are slower but allow passengers out on deck.

Fast Cat to Agistri
The busy roads of Agistri.
End of the Agistri road.
Roadside abandoned minibus and roadside church full of apostles.
Other end of the Agistri road, Skala resort, closed until mid-April.

Now for some practical information. Weather. It gets very hot in Athens, be aware or do as we did and go in March when it doesn’t. Temperatures hovered round the 12-14C mark, a couple of degrees warmer when we had some sunshine on the Acropolis day. Ideal temperatures for discovering a city that involves going up hills. Rain was forecast for a couple of days but hardly came to much, though it only took a brief shower overnight to coat all the parked cars with a layer of dust.

Speaking of dust, Athens is, well, very dusty. In terms of general pollution it wasn’t too bad, there’s a lot of traffic but no industrial contaminates. There isn’t much litter either, though there’s a lot of graffiti which does the place no favours at all.

Athens dust.

The traffic problems of Athens are quite legendary but when we were there, whilst it was certainly busy, it was no worse than other capital cities. Public transport consists of buses, trolley buses, trams, three Metro lines and more buses. Unlike a lot of European cities there doesn’t seem to be any will to convert much of the road network to cycle lanes. Cracked flagstones aside, it’s a decent place for pedestrians. Just mind your step as you go and obey the crossing signals like we (mostly) did.

Public transport is cheap and tickets can be paid for by contactless Visa or Mastercard. We used the Blue Line (Line 3) to get to Piraeus and also back to the airport. Getting to the airport requires a €9 ticket otherwise a journey costs just €1.20 and your ticket is valid for 90 minutes. Prices are capped at €4.10 a day, make sure you use the same card for each journey. For €20 you can get a tourist ticket valid for three days and including to and from the airport which seems like a good deal for those on a short break.

Food. There’s all sorts of cuisine to choose from as befits a capital city but it would be a shame to go to Greece and have burgers or pizza all the time and avoid the local stuff. Our hosts suggested a couple of places nearby and they were lovely. One was a typical taverna, the other was a very popular restaurant called Black Sheep. The food was excellent and the prices were very reasonable compared to restaurants back home. The Greeks love their chips which is fine because I love them too. There’s a lot of lamb and fish dishes and it’s probably best to do what we did, order a few different dishes and let everyone tuck in.

Language. The chances are you won’t understand much Greek or are familiar with the Greek alphabet. Don’t worry though, English is widely spoken in Athens.

Cats. There’s loads of cats. Not only in Athens but on Agistri too. They seem to be semi-feral in that they live outside, sometimes in cat baskets and old armchairs left for them. They are provided with food and drink and by the number of clipped ears we saw, are sterilised as soon as they are old enough. Some are friendly, some skittish, there’s big ones, small ones, tabbies, black and white, calicos – pretty much any variety of cat you can think of. Presumably most of them are themselves a mixture of any cat variety you can think of. We like cats. We spent a lot of time with cats, the friendly ones at least.

Athens (and Agistri) cats.

So there you have it, Athens in a slightly bigger nutshell than I intended. I blame the cats for that. It is a place that is well worth going to. We had the benefit of staying with nice people in a very nice apartment in a nice part of town which was all rather nice, but I’m sure staying in a nice hotel would be almost as nice (six nices in one sentence, blimey). Having said that, four days is plenty and that still gives you a day to visit an island. For us it is now a case of: Athens – tick.

Finland – Winter Wonderland?

Apukka Resort Igloo, ideal for aurora viewing whilst lying in bed. Unless it is cloudy.

“Let’s not bother with Christmas presents this year.”

“Good idea, why don’t we commit to going on holiday together instead.”

“Where do you fancy going?”

“Finland in the winter.”

“Erm, okay…”

This was a summary of the conversation Elaine and I had with our son, Nicholas, before Christmas. To be honest, we had never thought of going on a winter break to somewhere that has proper winters. Other than the skiing set, not many Brits do. When Nicholas mentioned it we thought why not. It isn’t too far away. It would be a new country to tick off. There are direct flights from Edinburgh. There’s really no excuse not to, is there? Apart from the expense, the lack of suitable winter clothing and maybe the sheer cold but hey, no pain, no gain as some idiots say. As it was Nicholas’s idea we left it to him to come up with an itinerary that fit between the flights we intended to book. This was it: Fly to Helsinki from Edinburgh early morning. Spend the rest of the day finding out what Helsinki had to offer before overnighting in a city hotel. The following day we would fly to Rovaniemi which is situated on the Arctic Circle and part of Lapland, the name given to the northern bits of several already quite northerly countries. We would spend three nights there before flying back to Helsinki and spending a night there before the even earlier morning flight back to Edinburgh. We booked the two Helsinki hotels and for Rovaniemi we splashed out for two nights at the Apukka Resort, some ten kilometres out of town, and one night in an apartment in the town itself. Finnair then threw a spanner in the works by cancelling the outbound flight so we were rebooked on an evening flight the day before and had to book an extra night in Helsinki. It turned out to be a particularly fortuitous spanner as it meant we were well rested before our day in Helsinki.

Finland isn’t a bargain destination. Whilst the hotels in Helsinki were certainly cheaper than, say, London, everything else was a bit on the pricey side. I’ll talk a bit more about this at the end as doing so here might put you off reading the rest of the blog.

Helsinki

Helsinki Cathedral

The nation’s capital city is situated in the south of the country on the Baltic Sea. South is a relative term of course, it is at a similar latitude to two other Nordic capitals, Oslo and Stockholm, and also the Shetland Islands. It is served by Helsinki Vantaa Airport with the IATA code HEL which amuses the Finns greatly. There certainly were no fires of Hell burning there when we landed at 23:00 on a February Monday evening. It’s a nice airport – they play birdsong in the toilets. It is also well connected with commuter trains taking two different routes to Helsinki Central Station. These take either 28 or 32 minutes so there’s no real hardship if you miss the faster one of the two. It’s about €4.50 for a ticket into town, better value than the Elizabeth Line at Heathrow so a thumbs up from us for that. We were staying at the Scandic Helsinki Central which was next door to the station. We were glad about this as it was well beyond midnight when we got there, -12C and we were dragging suitcases with us as you need to take a lot of stuff to Finland in the winter. The hotel was pretty good, did a decent breakfast and had the only sauna I went in whilst I was in the country that claims to have given sauna to the world. We basically had one day to discover the delights of Helsinki. I very much doubt we discovered them all but wrapped up warm we headed out the following morning. We had to quickly come to terms with the art of walking in a snowbound city at, by now, -9C, where the delineation between roads and pavements were not exactly well defined. However, we managed to negotiate the 1km walk to Tempelliaukio Church. This is a fairly modern church that is built into the side of a hill. As such it doesn’t look much from the outside but for a place of worship is quite unique on the inside. They do charge tourists €8 to go in though, everyone welcome.

Tempelliaukio Chruch. From the outside: ‘meh’. From the inside: ‘Oooh’

From there we headed back the way we came, past the station and walked (carefully) to Market Square. Whilst there were one or two market stalls and probably loads more in the summer, I felt the name was a bit of a misnomer as it was basically the Helsinki waterfront. Ferries to the Baltic states go from either side whilst in the middle you can get a smaller ferry to Soumenlinna Island. With the Baltic seemingly frozen over, we were surprised to see the ferry operating but a bit of sea ice is nothing for the Finns to worry about. We purchased some tickets and took the ride over to the island. There we had a wander around. The island is home to 800 folk who prefer the peace and quiet of the place to the bustling city. Positioned at the entrance to the harbour, Soumenlinna had strategic significance and much of it was fortified. It was a nice place to visit and plenty of tourists do, even in February with the sea seemingly frozen over. A few hours on the island was plenty though and after just missing the ferry, we spent an extra hour in a nearby cafe before heading back to the mainland. A few photos of interesting buildings later and we were back at the hotel for a bit of rest prior to dinner. This is where I managed to fit in my sauna session, just to say I’ve been to a Finnish sauna. It was no different to any other sauna I’ve been in to be honest but it was nice to have a bit of a sweat.

Market Place/Harbour. Who would have thought that this humble little ferry was a mighty icebreaker?
Soumenlinna Island. Big guns, interesting buildings and most impressive of all, an outdoor hockey rink.
First Snow Angel of the trip.
Heading back to the ferry which left just before we get there.
Orthodox and Lutheran cathedrals, guess which is which.
Helsinki tram, sadly unridden and Central Station, inside and out.

This brings us on to food in Helsinki. We had two dinners here, once after our sightseeing day and another on the night before we came home when we were staying at the airport Hilton but had time to nip into the city thanks to the excellent rail link mentioned earlier. Neither dinner saw us having Finnish food. The first one was at a Georgian restaurant called Rioni. I guess the link between Georgia and Finland is a shared loathing of their Russian neighbour but our reason for going was that it was rated very highly on Trip Advisor. It was very good too, hearty stuff and plenty of it, washed down with Georgian beer as God intended. It was, however, a bit on the costly side. Helsinki dinner number two was Nepalese. This was a bit of an odd one. I’d found Onni Nepal on Google Maps, the reviews were positive so off we went. Rather than a normal restaurant, it was a concession at a food hall in an underground shopping mall. We ate there anyway and it was fantastic. Despite the Nepalese name the food was what we would identify as Indian but none the worse for that. It was also a bargain – €15 for your curry, rice, nan bread, salad and a mysterious sauce. The accompanying Nepalese beer pushed the price up a bit but per-head it was less than the Maharani in Troon.

Finnish cuisine from Georgia and Nepal.

Apukka Resort

Apukka Resort igloos.

Between our Georgian and Nepalese dinners, we had to fit in the main reason for our trip to Finland. We took a flight from HEL to RVN, the latter being Rovaniemi Airport. The airport will be well known to quite a lot of Brits who take their kids or grandkids there to meet Santa Claus on day trips or short breaks in the run up to Christmas every year. The airport itself has the Arctic Circle running through it but as we were soon to find out, there was plenty of Finland further north than that. From the airport we took an Uber to the Apukka Resort. This went past the destination for most of those pre-christmas travellers, Santa Clause Village. We could have stayed there but decided Apukka, a few miles further north, would suit us better as we wouldn’t have to tell some bearded bloke that we were going to be good boys and girls for the rest of the year. Despite not having the Santa franchise, Apukka is popular with families as well as adults. My first impression was that it was a bit like a small Center Parcs but that does it a disservice. There’s a range of accommodation types but all feature a lot of glass. The idea is that the Aurora Borealis, aka The Northern Lights, may well be dancing their merry dance and you sure as hell don’t want to miss them. We had chosen igloos to stay in. These are not the ice domes that Pingu lives in but wood and glass structures. They look really quite stunning in the snow and were equally stunning on the inside. We chose them as the idea of lying in bed on the upper level and gazing through the glass roof at the Aurora was more than appealing. That didn’t happen but more on that in a bit. The resort has a couple of restaurants and a bar. Guests are a bit of a captive audience, though you could head into town by bus or Uber if you didn’t fancy what was on the menu. We enjoyed lunch there but the one dinner we had was Lappish cuisine. It was quality fare at a price but we didn’t really like it very much. Should there be a next time we would probably seek our evening meals in the town. A breakfast buffet is included in the room rate and was a good quality. There was plenty of things to do there, mainly at extra expense but just wandering round the place, sledging down a hillock and making snow angels was free. It was -13C when we arrived with glorious sunshine. It was, to coin a phrase, magical.

The coldest swing you’ll ever go on.
Inside the igloo.
A walk on the lake and one of the resort’s reindeer, not the one I’d eaten the previous evening.
Winter scenes as the sun tries to break through.
A walk through the woods for the last Snow Angel of the trip.

One of the main reasons we had chosen Lapland for a winter break was the opportunity to see the Aurora. In the run up to the holiday we had been keeping an eye on the forecast. Not for the solar activity as that is virtually impossible to predict but the weather. It doesn’t matter how much coronal mass ejection is going on, if it is cloudy you won’t see it. The clear skies had allowed the resort’s visitors a great view on the evening before we arrived. However, those clear skies were due to cloud over just after we got there and remain so for the following three nights. Based on this forecast we (Nicholas actually) decided to fork out for a Northern Lights tour. The tour company would take you to wherever the forecast was more favourable. If that meant entering another nearby country (not Russia, obviously) then so be it. The tour was booked for the evening we arrived at 19:00. Nicholas then got a text to say we would be being picked up at 16:30, instead. Along with three others from the resort, we were picked up at the new time, driven to the company’s office in Rovaniemi and issued with cold weather gear which none of us needed as we were pretty well wrapped up already. Then we set off in search of clear skies. As it turned out we didn’t quite leave Finland. We headed north and bar a couple of comfort breaks kept going for four hours, passing signposts to Murmansk on the way. That’s a long time in a minivan. Eventually we came to the town of Ivalo and left the main road. A few miles further we turned onto another road heading north and a mile after that came to a stop. We got out of the van. The sky was as clear as a bell. The two guys from the tour company set up a camera and reported that the Aurora was there, if rather faint. So faint in fact that we couldn’t see it but the night mode on the iPhone picket up a slight green glow. To be honest, a four hour, 300 km drive for that would have been a disappointment. However, we only had to wait a minute or two before an arc of light formed above us. It was the Aurora! We spent about an hour at the location, oblivious to the -17C temperature, gazing in awe at the spectacle. Well, when I say oblivious to the temperature I might have been lying. Removing gloves to take photos resulted in painful hands almost immediately but I wasn’t going to not get the photos. Speaking of which, the photos bring out the colours. Even after giving my eyes a chance to adapt to the darkness, it was hard to see the colours. The vivid green in the photos was a slightly green tinge to the naked eye and the reds only became apparent when reviewing the pictures. This, however, did not diminish from the spectacle. We have wanted to see the Aurora for years. Every time there has been good sightings where we live we have missed them. Elaine and Nicholas went to Iceland a couple of years ago and didn’t see them. We’ve seen them from an aircraft but observing them whilst on Terra Firma was the goal. Had we stayed at the Apukka Resort that evening we would have missed them. It took £120 each, a ten hour, 600km round trip in a minivan, some frozen hands and a very late night to finally tick off that bucket list item. Woohoo!

Aurora Borealis, nearly perceptible at first but growing stronger.
Aurora in all its glory. Not quite as green to the naked eye but still.
Very cool, both literally and figuratively.
Last of the iPhone pics and my personal favourite.
‘Official’ photos. Faint aurora when we arrived, soon becoming vivid.
They certainly put on a display for us.
Portrait photos…
Landscape photos.
Not just green, there’s a hint of red here too.
I promise you that is Elaine standing with me.

Back at the Apukka Resort, under overcast skies now, we had other things to do. The resort offers ‘experiences’ and we’d booked three of them. One was a session in the sauna/whirlpool but we’d cancelled that in the nick of time when we decided to go on the Northern Lights tour. Experience bookings are cancellable up to 24 hours before. That left snowmobiling and dog sledding. The activity centre issues all guests with cold weather gear which, whilst a bit of a faff to put on, is certainly required. For the snowmobiling they give you a helmet too which thankfully wouldn’t be tested on our two hour session. It was good fun zipping around a snowy wilderness on what is basically an ATV fitted with skis. I did nearly take out a signpost but managed to avoid it at the last second, thankfully. There was a €900 excess on the machines if you damaged them. They are easy enough to operate but very heavy on the steering. The speed is limited to 40 kmh or 25 mph if you prefer it.

Hell’s Angels Snowmobile Chapter.
Nicholas going no handed up a seriously steep incline and whizzing through the snow at 40 kph.

Activity number two was the Husky Adventure. This was originally planned for the morning after we arrived but we rearranged it for the day after that just in case the Northern Lights trip went on late. This was a good call as the Northern Lights trip certainly did go on late. A short introductory course on how to operate a dog sled was given before we were assigned to our sleds and, of course, the huskies that would be pulling them. Having had Elaine as a passenger on my snowmobile, she decided to be a passenger on Nicholas’s sled leaving me to do the mushing solo, hauled by four dogs rather than six. Two of mine were trainees so the handler went ahead on a snowmobile to encourage them. Dog sledding proved even more fun than the snowmobiling. The dogs just loved the snow and seem to enjoy pulling us along. They did drop the occasional shit which was then squashed by the sled runners, thereby liberating more of the smell than the mushers and passengers would have liked, but this was a small price to pay for the experience. Once back at base we were given a hot blueberry juice and a cookie to warm up before being allowed to pet the future sled-haulers. We were told they were puppies but they seemed awfully big for pups. I got a face full of slobbers when I picked one of them up, otherwise they were all rather cute and a bit squidgy thanks to the insulating layer of fat they all have.

My husky dog team. Prada and Casta, two trainee sled pullers at the front and two experienced Siberian huskies behind them who probably had names too.
Master musher Neil with Prada, Casta, Thingy and Whotsit.
The six dogs hauling Elaine and Musher Nicholas enjoying a brief break by frolicking in the snow. They really can’t get enough of the stuff.
(Big) Puppy handling was almost as fun as driving the sleds, except when one of them licks your face.
They likes being petted almost as much as mucking about in the snow.
Husky experience, tick.

Rovaniemi

With the Husky experience done (and slobbered face washed) we had a spot of lunch before leaving the resort and checking into our apartment in Rovaniemi town. Being the centre of all things winter and with many references to Santa, Rovaniemi is something of a boomtown at this time of year. As a tourist destination it is more of a hub for the activities in the surrounding area than a place full of stuff to see. There’s plenty of shops and restaurants and a walk along the river is rather nice but I would say that is about it. It’s cheaper to stay there than at the Apukka and fine to use as a base but I’m glad we didn’t book all three nights there. One of the things that is listed as a tourist spot is Roki, the town’s ice hockey club who play in the second division of the Finnish league. As it happens they had a game on the evening we were there. Elaine and Nicholas didn’t want to go for some reason, I can’t think why. They went off for dinner at a nearby Tepanyaki place (they said it was very good) whilst I set out to walk nearly 3 km to the Lappi Areena to take in the game. A ticket was €22 and the venue was nearly full of locals and quite a lot of tourists. I enjoyed it, with Roki winning 3-1. The quality is very good. Finland were, until a week prior to me being there, the Olympic hockey champions and they do seem to love the sport. The following morning we had another wander around the town, saying hello to Santa on the way. He has a booth in the middle of town where you can go and pay to have some photos taken with him. We declined. It was quite interesting to see how a town works when covered in quite a lot of snow where temperatures remain below zero for, seemingly, months. It had actually got warmer whilst we were there with the mercury hovering around -5C – it was almost worth taking a layer off. It was soon time to get an Uber to the airport which was mobbed and finding it hard to cope with the volume of passengers. We flew back to Helsinki, where the temperature had actually crept up to +3C, for a night in the airport Hilton and the aforementioned Nepalese curry. We rose at 04:00 the following morning for our 06:30 flight back to Edinburgh.

Rovaniemi ice sculpture and, surprisingly, a not completely iced over river.
The town’s Lutheran Church complete with curious stringed instrument.
Roki hockey at the Lappi Areena. This is an official tourist spot so don’t complain at me including it here.
One of many patches of yellow snow, some park benches and an unsurprisingly closed ice cream hut.
Finnair like to join in with the Santa Claus thing.

Conclusion

In the days leading up to our Finland break, we all experienced some apprehension. It was a new country, one quite different from ours when it comes to climate. Would we find the cold too oppressive? Are the Finns welcoming? Was there enough to do? We invested quite a bit of money in cold weather clothing, from snow boots to long johns, though in the Apukka resort they let you have some serious cold weather gear for the time you are there. Layering up was recommended along with a decent hat and thick socks. Maybe two pairs of thick socks. We must have been doing something right as we kept warm for the most part. You need to give yourself time to change out of the outer layers at least when you go from outside to inside as all the buildings are kept pleasantly warm. Weather considerations aside, Finland seems a great place to visit. The language is indecipherable – its closest relative is Hungarian, don’t ask me why – but virtually everyone speaks English and they speak it better than you do. Everyone we dealt with was pleasant. The public transport in Helsinki was excellent though not so much in Rovaniemi where we found Uber (and walking) to be the best way of getting around. Nothing stops for the snow. It was piled up all around Helsinki but the trams ran as normal, cars were driven, bicycles were ridden and the ferries ran through iced up waters. Even more snow was piled up in Rovaniemi but they just shifted it and got on with life. We never spent a single Euro whilst we were there. This is not really true, we spent quite a lot of them, but all transactions were contactless and all the cash we had brought with us came home. Whilst I’m happy to persuade you to go, I have to mention the elephant in the room, or perhaps it’s the reindeer in the igloo. How much did it cost? I must admit, it wasn’t cheap. An igloo at the Apukka Resort is going to cost you over €1000 per night. It’s a couple of hundred Euros to go dog sledding. Having said that, hotels in Helsinki aren’t too expensive and you might find some bargain eateries like we did with the Nepalese so you may not have to break the bank while you are there. Not too much anyway. It may prove to be the only time we go there but we certainly enjoyed the experience and it has given us memories that will last for as long as we do.

To conclude, as long as you wrap up warm, Finland is a great place for a break. A true Winter Wonderland.

Scotland’s Railways

Back in March, not long after I’d completed my Aberdeen to Penzance mega train ride, I had a free day. Still in railway mode, I decided to head up to Glasgow and purchase a Strathclyde Roundabout ticket for the princely sum of £7.40. This gave me a day’s off peak travel on Glasgow’s suburban railways, much of which I had never travelled on before. I had no plan, just to start at Paisley Canal St station, take the short ride to Glasgow Central and choose whatever trains that subsequently took my fancy. That day saw me visit the delights of Newton, Hamilton, Dalmuir and <Neilston>, the last of which is displayed on the departure boards at Central Station with the < and > to aid passengers in distinguishing between it and Newton. Many a rushed commuter had caught the wrong train home in the past so a solution was sought and for all I know it probably works. There wasn’t much in the way of nice scenery and some of the trains were old and smelly but it was interesting getting to know some of Glasgow’s urban and suburban rail network, the largest in the UK outside of London. Having travelled on new ‘metals’ (its a word trainfans use to mean ‘tracks’ as having an extra syllable is as important as the right anorak) that day, along with some more on the earlier cross country trip, I started to wonder just how much of the Scottish passenger rail network I had not been on. I downloaded a couple of maps off the Scotrail website and a plan was formulated. It wasn’t a very complex plan: I was to travel on every mile of the network with a time limit of whenever.

Yellow highlighted lines already completed…
…with still a fair bit of the Central Belt left.

The maps showed me that I’d done a fair bit of the network as it was. Of the ‘biggies’ the West Highland Line, Highland Line, Stranraer Line, Dundee-Aberdeen Line, West Coast and East Coast Mainlines, Kilmarnock, Dumfries and Carlisle Line along with a number of Glasgow-Edinburgh lines were already in the bag so to speak. However, three major lines in the north of the country were notably absent from my tally along with plenty more suburban lines in Glasgow, the Central Belt, Edinburgh and Fife. There was also an annoying number of short branch lines to places like North Berwick and Ardrossan Harbour that would prove a bit tricky. The East Kilbride Line would have to wait as it was closed whilst being upgraded and whilst the line from Kilmarnock to Glasgow was technically ticked off, it must be more than forty years ago that I travelled on it so I was never quite happy that it counted. So plenty to do, best to crack on.

I hastily arranged a trip to Inverness to bag those lines at the northern extremity of the British railway network. I purchased a Spirit of Scotland Rover ticket for £100 with a railcard (£155 if you don’t have one). This gave me four days of travel within an eight day period on any train within Scotland with the exception of some, but not all, peak morning services. Unlike my day on the suburban railways of Glasgow, I made a plan and set off. The Rover ticket allowed me to take a leisurely route up to Inverness thereby ticking off the Glasgow-Edinburgh via Shotts line and most of the Fife lines that I needed. Annoyingly the branch to Leven wasn’t completed and I’d have to formulate a plan to do that later. In Inverness I checked in to my cheap and not exactly cheerful hotel – when in Inverness do yourself a favour and pay a bit extra to stay in hotel that isn’t the Waverley Guest House – and prepared myself for the early start the following morning. The first train to Thurso and Wick departed Inverness at 07:00 and the Rover Ticket is accepted on this route despite the ‘peak’ departure. The Far North Line takes over four hours to reach Wick having first branched off to Thurso to visit Britain’s most northerly railway station before returning to Britain’s most northerly railway junction and continuing on to Wick. I had actually done some of this line before but north of Dunrobin Castle it was new ‘metals’ for me. Once in Wick the obvious option was to return to Inverness but I had an alternative plan. I’d take Wick Airport’s one daily service to Aberdeen, thereby ticking off another airport in another potential challenge, and get a bus to the city’s station. There I would catch the next train to Inverness which meant I’d complete another line before dinner. The following day I needed to get home but not before I’d ticked off the Kyle of Lochalsh Line, an outrageously scenic trundle from the east coast to the west. I had to do this both ways before catching the train from Inverness back to Glasgow with a small detour to Alloa on the way to capture one of those annoying little branchlines I was talking about. Even in Glasgow I managed to tick off a stretch of suburban railway that might otherwise have been a bit of a pain to complete, before returning home.

The Rover Ticket still had one day left on it and a few days later I used it to do more of the Glasgow suburban lines including extremities such as Helensburgh, Gourock and the legendary Cathcart Circle. That left plenty of suburban lines still to do and through a mixture of opportunism and another Strathclyde Roundabout ticket, I ticked them off by late-May. The East Kilbride line had reopened and was the last of the Glasgow lines to be completed. This left just two small branchlines to do, North Berwick to the east of Edinburgh and Leven in Fife, the latter being a newly reopened line that had been closed to passengers following the Beeching Report on the 60s. It took me a while to get round to doing them as summer stuff had got in the way. On August 27, however, I set out from Troon via the Kilmarnock Line, thereby taking away my unease at a journey forty years ago counting towards the total, to Glasgow and then Edinburgh. There I changed onto the local service to North Berwick and removed that short branch off the East Coast Mainline from my to do list. Back at Edinburgh I changed onto a train to Leven and prepared to tick off the last short stretch of railway – only for signalling problems that saw the service cancelled at Kirkcaldy. An hour on the platform at Kirkcaldy is long enough for anyone but thankfully the issue was fixed by the time the next scheduled service came along. I got on it and a short while later we branched off the main line onto the curiously meandering line to Leven. At 15:16 the train pulled into Leven Station and my not exactly onerous quest to ride on all of Scotland’s passenger railways was complete.

Scotland’s Railways complete. Note: the carriage behind was not the one I’d travelled in.

Well, almost. Technically speaking there is a short section of track on the Fife Circle and another near Cathcart in Glasgow where passenger trains sometimes route but I’ve discounted these as they don’t contain any stations. I’ll maybe get round to doing them someday, just for the hell of it. Anyway, enough of the boring stuff, what you all want to know is what are my favourite bits of the network, where are the hidden gems, which bits are the most depressing and other stuff that might make you want to jump on a Scotrail Class 150.

Best Line

The West Coast Highland Line takes the gold medal, though it is a close run thing. The journey from Glasgow Queen Street to Mallaig is just spectacular. Sure, the Scotrail trains aren’t up to much but they’ve got big windows from which to enjoy the big country outside. Branching off the North Clyde line at Helensburgh, the line climbs high above Gare Loch and Loch Long before cutting through a gap in the hills at Arrochar. Loch Lomond is on the other side of the gap and the line heads north along its bonnie, bonnie banks to Crianlarich. There the train splits with one half heading along the Oban branch, itself quite spectacular, the other beginning the climb up to the bleak Rannoch Moor. Traversing the moor, the train calls at Corrour Station, 15 miles from the closest public road, before travelling high above Loch Treig and then following the River Spean around the north of the Ben Nevis range. After pulling into Fort William Station, the train reverses out again and branches off to the northwest, passing Neptune’s Staircase on the Caledonian Canal. Following the northern banks of Loch Eil, the train then crosses the iconic Glenfinnan Viaduct, that of Harry Potter fame, heading west to Arisaig, Britain’s most westerly railway station. The Small Isles of Muck, Eigg and Rum are visible as the train heads north to its destination of Mallaig. The journey takes five and a quarter hours. There are alternatives to Scotrail’s old DMUs though and good ones at that. You can take the Caledonian Sleeper from Euston to Fort William, waking up on the banks of Loch Lomond and having breakfast as Rannoch Moor goes by is really quite special. You can also do the section from Fort William to Mallaig steam hauled in heritage rolling stock during the summer months which is perhaps even more special, as long as it is running which it wasn’t the last time I tried it.

Glasgow – Fort William is particularly scenic in Autumn…
…and rather dramatic in Winter.
Fort William – Malaig. Do it steam hauled if you can. You’ll see nice things no matter what is hauling you though like Our Lady of the Braes…
…the Small Isles and of course, Glenfinnan Viaduct.

Hidden Gem

Ayr-Stranraer Line. This line endured thanks to a connection with the ferries from Stranraer to Belfast, but they ceased a few years ago. Stranraer Station still lies next to the abandoned ferry port. The ferries now go from Cairnryan a couple of miles up the coast from Stranraer and there is a connecting bus from Ayr Station for those relying on public transport. Luckily, closing railway lines is a particularly tricky thing to do nowadays and several trains a day make the journey to Stranraer largely devoid of passengers. It is very scenic with both coastal and countryside views and a surprising amount of wilderness to observe. You can also have a chuckle at the name Glenwhillie on the side of a signal box miles from anywhere of note.

Not spectacular but generally rather pleasant with Ailsa Craig keeping you company for some of the way.

More Scenic Lines

The Kyle of Lochalsh Line is almost as good as the West Highland Line. The scenery is just as good but you only get two and a half hours of it rather than five and a half. Like the Stranraer Line it used to connect to a ferry which is probably why it survived the Beeching Cuts of the 60s but there is a bridge to Skye now and the line is served by a mere four trains per day. Catch one though, you won’t regret it.

Of course, doing the Kyle Line on a glorious day helps.
The Kyle Line is almost the Skye Line, Skye being the other side of that bridge.

The Far North Line is rather spectacular in places though not as dramatic as the West Highland and Kyle lines. It is definitely worth doing though and has the feel of being on some sort of expedition rather than a simple train ride.

The Far North Line is all sea lochs and wilderness.
Basic station facilities at Altnabreac and me at the end of the line.

Edinburgh-Dundee-Aberdeen gets a mention too. Not only is the scenery great, you get to traverse two iconic bridges, the Tay Bridge and the mighty Forth Bridge.

Tay and Forth Bridges.

Best Suburban Lines

Very subjective this but I rather enjoyed the East Kilbride Line when I finally got to ride on it. Unlike most of Glasgow’s suburban railway network, it seemed to pass through rather pleasant suburbs and even a bit of countryside before reaching its new town destination.

Sadly, I took no photos other than this end of the line selfie so you’ll have to take my word for it.

There’s nice views of the Clyde along the Greenock Line and also the line to Helensburgh and whilst I’m so used to it now I barely notice, the Ayr line is pleasing on the eye in sections.

Firth of Clyde from the north looking south and the south looking north.

Neil’s Least Favourite Lines

To be honest I don’t hate any railway line. There are some, however, that are a bit, well, sad. The Glasgow Central Low Level line utilises old rolling stock that smells vaguely of boiled cabbage, as do the subterranean stations in the middle of the city, and when they emerge from the tunnels at either end it is hardly the sort of scenery that makes you want to look out of the window. It’s a good, frequent service though so I’m not knocking it.

Argyle St Station. A bit smelly.

Neil’s Favourite Trains

Ignoring the heritage stock that does the Fort William-Malaig tourist run and non-Scotrail operators, there can only be one train that takes the crown. A train that, sadly, is unlikely to be gracing the Scottish network for much longer. That is the Class 43, better known as the Inter City 125. Back when I blogged about them in 2019 they were in the process of being introduced onto the Scottish network. Since then they have all been refurbished and their classy interiors disguise the fact that the trains are over 40 years old. Not that you really want to disguise the age of these classic trains, they have so much more appeal than the other types on the Scotrail network. They are due to be replaced soon by new, unspecified stock. You can bet your bottom dollar that the replacements will be soulless and probably have hard seats.

Inter City 125, what an icon and me in an Inter City 125, what an icon.

Neil’s Favourite Stations

Weymss Bay is the jewel in the crown of Scottish Stations. It is a Victorian masterpiece and I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. As for a major station, it’s hard to look past Glasgow Central, Scotland’s busiest, another Victorian masterpiece but on a grand scale.

Weymss Bay Station and ferry port.

Neil’s Summary

Neil says ‘do it’ but then Neil would, wouldn’t he? I like travelling by train and find the history of the railways interesting. Like most people I enjoy gazing at spectacular scenery, unlike most people I can spend hours doing it and little else. See my Trans Canada epic journey for if you need convincing. Scotland has some lovely lines that I can’t guarantee you will enjoy them would be very surprised if you didn’t. As for the other, non-lovely lines? You may need to be a bit of a train nerd to enjoy them. Now, should I do Wales next?

Outer Hebrides

Despite this site being primarily a travel blog, I never really expected to be writing anything about this particular location. It is a place we have been meaning to go to for quite a while but something alway put us off. Maybe that location was the issue. Situated off the northwest coast of Scotland, the Isles of Lewis and Harris form part of the Outer Hebrides, a collection of islands in the Atlantic Ocean. With the exception of the main town, they are sparsely populated and that town, Stornoway, itself is hardly a large metropolis, though it does boast the island’s only Tesco. The island’s attractions are spread thinly across a land largely devoid of trees but perhaps the thing that has put us off the most was the weather we were likely to encounter. The UK as a whole tends to get battered by frontal systems moving in off the Atlantic but a high pressure system over the country can deflect them to the north. These banks of cloud may well miss the bulk of the UK but the far northwest is rarely spared. Of course that doesn’t mean permanent rain but the probability is that a holiday without cloud and wind is unlikely to happen and the mercury will seldom top 20C. Or so we thought. Elaine has lived in Scotland for more than 39 years now and it’s even longer for me. Earlier this year we decided to bite the bullet and book a place on Lewis. So what if it would rain a lot, we’ve got waterproof coats and stuff and it’s only water anyway. Little did we know that yes, we’d get wet but that moisture would come from within rather than from the sky.

The only cloud we saw on Saturday.

We chose our accommodation for the week. We went for a cottage, not through Airbnb this time but Cottages.com. The cottage was called The Summer House and looked pretty good in the pictures on the website. They always do, don’t they? This one, however, had won awards and was, as they used to say in the beer adverts, reassuringly expensive. Interestingly, expense was one of the things that has put us off in the past as there isn’t much in the way of cheap accommodation up there, especially in the summer months. Thus, being a tight Yorkshireman I had to grit my teeth when I made the reservation. It was a lovely place. The Summer House is based in the village of Achmore, assuming a widely dispersed handful of houses can be called a village. It was handily placed in the middle of Lewis and just 20 minutes from Stornoway. A word about the island. Despite there being an Isle of Lewis and an Isle of Harris they are, in fact, just one island. Harris is the southern third, Lewis the northern two thirds. Harris is quite hilly whilst Lewis is more moorland and the bulk of the population live there. Why it requires the two names I do not know. The island is quite big so a car is essential. To get yours there you have two main options. Ferry operator Caledonian MacBrayne provide services from Uig on the Isle of Skye to Tarbert on Harris, and Ullapool on the mainland to Stornoway on Lewis. You can also get ferries from the island of North Uisit if you want to combine all of the Outer Hebrides in one trip. The ferries get busy in the summer and the advice is to book early. The summer schedules go on sale in January and I was in there at the when they did. We decided to take the Uig-Tarbert service to get to the island and Stornoway-Ullapool to get off it. The former takes an hour and a half, the latter an hour longer. For two passengers and a normal car the price was £56.90 and £91.35 respectively. We decided to break our journeys in both directions with a hotels in Invergarry, about half way to Uig on the way up and Ullapool on the way back. Although this added time and expense we are glad we did it as the journeys, whilst very scenic (especially to Uig), are rather tiresome.

The Summer House.
The view.

Information technology is a wonderful thing but you can get obsessed with things. In the run up to this holiday we had been checking the weather forecast frequently. We knew that forecasts are hopelessly inaccurate any more than a few days in advance but we did it anyway. It was, at first, a rather dismal picture but the closer we got to departure we were feeling optimistic that we might get some sunny spells. There were reports of a heatwave hitting Britain on the weekend we were going but, as previously mentioned, it was unlikely to bother the Outer Hebrides. Maybe, just maybe it would keep those Atlantic fronts at bay? Our Friday crossing from Uig to Tarbert was in unbroken sunshine and the temperature was such that we could sit on the deck. Promising. As it turned out we were visiting the island on the hottest weekend anyone could remember. Temperatures would reach 29C that weekend before it cooled down to a more manageable 21C. We had lovely weather most of the week, maybe one evening and one morning of light rain and a bit of low cloud later on in the week. Otherwise the sun shone brightly during the day and well on into the evening too. I thought I’d done well weatherwise with my Saga cruise in May, this was just as good and even less expected. So what dose Harris and Lewis have to offer the enquiring traveller? I’ll split it up into three categories: Beaches, walks and ‘visitor attractions’.

Beaches

The Hebrides do do a mean beach.

It may seem strange to count beaches on an island situated on the 58th parallel as a major selling point. However, if sitting on a beach is your thing there are plenty to choose from and you may have it all to yourself. We are not great beach dwellers but we certainly appreciated the golden, sandy beaches that abound on Lewis and Harris. Perhaps the most famous beach is Luskentyre on Harris and having already gone for a walk along it, we decided to plonk ourselves down on it to have our lunch. Whilst other folk were embracing the beach life, we lasted about twenty minutes though we did at least dip our feet in the water. Luskentyre is a stunning place and when the temperature is in the high 20s celsius it easily beats any Mediterranean or Caribbean beach. By Hebridean standards the beach was a busy though the few dozen folk there were spread out thinly.

Luskentyre Beach on a ‘busy’ day which, thanks to the Gulf Stream, is lapped by the waters of the Sunny Caribbean Sea.
Leave nothing but footprints…
Luskentyre Beach residents, Toby the white horse and Morag the Highland Coo. (Morag is the name we give all Highland Cows)

Some other beaches we encountered, not that we lingered there, were either deserted or had two or three other people on them. There are plenty to choose from. We particularly liked Garry Beach to the north of Stornoway which we only discovered the morning we were leaving the island. It had sea stacks you could wander through at low tide, a bit like a mini Hopewell Rocks at the Bay of Fundy.

Garry Beach
Garry Beach geology.
More sea stacks than people.

Another great beach was at Uig Bay. Not the previously mentioned Uig on Skye, but out on a limb on the west coast of Lewis. The Gaels do tend to reuse place names a fair bit. Ardroil Beach is situated in Uig Bay and is where the Norse chess pieces that now reside in the British Museum were found and whilst it is unlikely you will find any others, you can always get a tourist photo next to a carving of a King that stands there as a reminder. It’s a bit of a drive to get there but worth the effort.

The Norse King with the Essex Queen at Uig Bay
I cross a surprisingly deep burn to get off the extensive Ardroil Sands.
The view across the bay is enjoyed by a few visitors and the souls of those long since departed.

There were plenty of other great beaches we saw in passing and plenty left to discover the next time we are there. They are easy to find – they are right next to the sea.

Just a few more beaches for your enjoyment.

Walks

Going for a walk is a major draw of the islands. The above mentioned beaches are good for walking of course. We had a nice walk at Uig Sands. It wasn’t overly long or particularly taxing but it was worth that long drive to get there as the views were stunning. The Luskentyre beach walk was another easy amble along the sand and back along the road with the benefit of Toby and a couple of Morags enjoying the warm weather. The first walk we did was a coastal walk near the village of Carloway which took in Gearrannan Blackhouse Village. Unlike Uig Sands, this was fairly taxing. We did it the first full day we were there when the temperatures were high though there was a stiff breeze coming in off the sea which prevented us from overheating. Much of the walk was close to the cliffs, not dangerously so, but close enough to enjoy the dramatic scenery. There was no distinct footpath to follow either so planning the next few hundred yards of travel became very imnportant. It was not so much ‘off piste’ as ‘no bloody piste in the first place’. We passed no one on the way and whilst it may well have stretched our definition of a ‘pleasant’ walk, there was definitely a sense of achievement when we reached the top of a hill and the Blackhouse Village came into view. Not that we had finished. I discovered our chosen direct route down the hill was a bit of a mistake when I took a tumble on uneven ground which was hidden in the long grass and ended up on the deck in a less than elegant manner.

Borghastan and Carloway Harbour were the last bits of civilisation on the walk to the Blackhouses.
There was a bit of a path and then hardly any path.
There’s a lighthouse. It isn’t a very good one but we had to go up there and put a stone on the cairn.
By now there was no path to follow whatsoever but keeping the sea on our left made navigation a little easier. This settlement was abandoned years ago.
We reach the brow of a hill and catch sight of the Blackhouse village, just tumbling down the hillside to go!

A similar cliff walk at the Butt of Lewis was a little easier. The terrain was less of a challenge and whilst there was no defined path again, the ground was ‘machair’, a fertile soil covered in short grass and meadow flowers. The highlight was the Butt of Lewis lighthouse, a splendid red brick structure, situated at the northern tip of the island. It seems a bit counterintuitive that the Butt is at the top of the island rather than the bottom.

The Butt of Lewis walk starts at Ness Beach (another cracker) and whilst there’s no distinct path, there are a few marker poles to keep you right.
Colours in the sea and on the land.
Cool geology, decorated by the seabirds.
David Stephenson’s red brick lighthouse, keeping sailors off the rocks since 1862.
58°30’57” N. I was the most northely person on Lewis at the time.

Speaking of lighthouses, we visited another one on the Isle of Scalpay. Scalpay is an island near Tarbert in Harris and is accessed via a bridge. Despite the link with the rest of the island, it retains its own personal character and gives the impression of what island life may well have been like thirty years ago. There are a number of walks you can do, all of which take in Eilean Glas lighthouse on the southern tip of the island. We chose the short one to get there a longer one back along the coast. More on the lighthouse later.

Across the hill to Eilean Glas where locals cut peat and cake awaits.
The coastal trail back from Eilean Glas, a little trickier but some nice views. (Lighthouse photos later)

The Eilean Glas lighthouse walk was in fact a last minute decision. We had intended to complete a walk from Urgha to Rhenigdale and back, a seven mile round trip to a tiny settlement that was the last such settlement on Harris to be accessible by road. The track over a hill was known as the Postman’s Trail as that was how the mail was delivered before the road arrived. We set off with the top of the hill shrouded in cloud but when we came to the other side, we were put off by the near vertical precipice we would have had to negotiate via a precarious zig-zag path. Not only down but up again on the way back. The mist was clearing so we did at least get the benefit of the views and once back at the car we had the time to visit Scalpay and any disappointment we felt at not completing the walk was soon forgotten.

The Postman Trail to Rhenigdale. This memorial posed more questions than it answered. Did Duncan die and immediately get a second chance?
The hill fog was reluctant to clear but once we’d reached the top of the hill and headed down the other side a bit it began to disperse.
To get down to that bridge at the bottom of the hill onto the path beyond would have meant going over the side. There was a zig-zag path down the vertical drop but we decided not to risk it and had our picnic with the now clear view instead.
I was disappointed not to complete the walk but I hid it well and we enjoyed the views we’d missed out on on the way up.

These are just a handful of the many walks that are possible on both Harris and Lewis and it is safe to say that we would need several more weeks to discover them all.

Visitor Attractions

The words ‘visitor attractions’ may strike fear into the hearts of those who want to choose a destination to get away from it all but don’t worry. There’s no theme parks, amusement arcades, water parks or anything noisy at all with the exception of the waves crashing into the cliffs. There are, however, a few attractions for the visiting tourist that are worth a visit. I’ve already mentioned the Gearrannan Blackhouse Village. This collection of traditional houses was restored after the last residents left in the 70s. Some are let as holiday homes but three are preserved as a museum and cafe. It’s definitely worth a visit either the easy way by car or the more difficult way that we did it, on foot.

Blackhouses. Named to differentiate them from newer white houses.
They have restored one to what it would have been like in 1955 complete with Harris Tweed hand loom.

The Callanish Standing Stones is another popular attraction. There’s a lot of neolithic standing stones in Scotland and several examples at Callanish alone. The main one sits atop a small hill and consists of a small stone circle at the apex of a much larger cruciform arrangement. As is the case with most of these standing stones, we don’t really know precisely why they were built, maybe there isn’t a precise reason to be discovered. The neolithic people may have just liked them.

Callanish Standing Stones.
A Neolithic couple perform the pagan selfie ceremony.

A drive out to Bernera Island takes you the Iron Age House of Bosta. This turf covered building is a replica but stands where archeologists discovered the remains of a small village that dated back 1400 years. It is open for viewing from midday as long as the guide does not go off sick, as was the case when we went there. It’s interesting enough to see from the outside though and there are a few walks on Bernera Island you can do if you don’t mind traversing a bit of boggy ground. The main settlement on Bernera Island is Breacleit and like a number of other villages we passed through it has a museum/shop/cafe/petrol pump. Whilst describing these as visitor attractions is pushing it a bit, these are always handy places to stop and the small museums are worth the two or three quid donation to look around.

Iron Age House, outside only.

As mentioned in the Walks paragraph, Eilean Glas is a lighthouse on the island of Scalpay. Whilst getting there requires a walk, the destination counts as a visitor attraction in its own right, not only because it is commands a very attractive setting but you can also get cake and a cup of tea there. We had a very nice chat with the elderly couple who own the land and most of the buildings there – the current lighthouse is still operational and owned by the Northern Lighthouse Board – and whilst the place is by no means in a pristine condition, it appeared they were doing their best to keep the place going for the benefit of passing walkers. It wasn’t until we got home that we discovered that the couple had a very ‘interesting’ back story that they had somehow failed to mention to us when they were describing how they came to own a lighthouse. This involved them both serving time at Her Majesty’s Pleasure for being a little less than honest with someone else’s money. That was over twenty years ago though, I’m sure they are reformed characters now and are genuinely trying to run the place legally. The cake was nice at any rate.

Eilean Glas, no road access.
The original lighthouse, minus the light and the foghorn with its rusty compressed air tanks.
Peggy’s Cove eat your heart out.

Stornoway’s major visitor attraction is Lews Castle which is part hotel and part museum. It has grounds through which you are normally free to wander. We missed our chance, however, as the week we were there was the run up to a large (in Hebridean terms) music festival called HebCelt. This did mean that we could go to the festival on the opening session which was on Thursday evening, the day before we left. We got to see Eddi Reader and Tide Lines doing their stuff though missed out on the legend that is Lulu who was the headline act on the Friday. I’m not a lover of music festivals and wouldn’t go to Glastonbury if you paid me a lot of money but HebCelt is much less crowded and being the first session following a dry spell it never got too muddy. If festivals are your thing, plan your break to Lewis accordingly.

Lewes Castle and Tide Lines doing their stuff.

If visiting a mighty cathedral is your thing then you may want to consider somewhere else for your holidays but we did discover one interesting place of worship up near the Butt of Lewis. St Moluag’s Church, or Teampall Mholuaidh if you prefer your churches in Gaelic, dates back to the 12th or 13th century and sits on or near a 6th century site believed to be the first consecrated ground in the Hebrides. Having originally told people it was in the care of the Church of Scotland, I’ve since discovered it is Episcopalian (Anglican) and having confidently said that the small altar wasn’t an altar, I’m happy to altar that statement (sorry for the pun).

St Moluag’s Church is so old that windows were deemed an unholy extravagance so the building has few of them.
The plaque tells the story of the church so I don’t have to. Moluag, patron saint of folk with thin, pointy fingers.
It’s an altar and a window. Not original. “Christ be our light” may be a special request as there is no electricity in the building.

The Whalebone Arch is worth a photo. The story behind it is pretty grim though. Back in the 20s a blue whale washed up on a nearby beach with a harpoon embedded in its body. It had obviously escaped capture by a whaling ship but slowly expired from the harpoon wound before being washed ashore. The islanders waited for a whaling company to come and collect it but no one did so they extracted what useful products they could get out of it. A local chap decided that he’d make a memorial to the sad creature by mounting two jawbones to form an arch. In what today might seem a bit tasteless, he included the harpoon that had killed it too. The arch is in someone’s garden but they don’t mind you going in to take a photo.

Whalebone Arch complete with grizzly form of whale execution.

The Bridge to Nowhere is near the Garry Beach mentioned above. It’s not particularly attractive but with a name like Bridge to Nowhere there has to be an interesting story to it. The bridge was built in the early 20s as part of a plan to develop the northeasten part of the island. It never happened and this bridge, along with a few miles of rough track, are all that remains of Lord Leverhume’s, the landowner at the time, dreams.

The Bridge to Nowhere. We went to check. It didn’t go anywhere and there were no pies.

Visitor Information

Visitor information? I’m getting all Berlitz Guide here, aren’t I? Still, you might well be wondering about the sort of stuff we were wondering about before we went. Getting around was one of those things. I was half expecting the island to be covered in single track roads and indeed there are plenty. However, most roads you are likely to be travelling on are perfectly normal single carriageway, two-way roads. The single track roads with passing places tend to be on the island’s extremities and even then they tend to be interspersed with sections of dual track. Roads are very quiet, even the main one between Stornoway in Lewis and Tarbert in Harris. The only remotely busy traffic was in Stornoway and it was hardly gridlock. Don’t let the roads put you off, they are fine. You’ll need those roads too. The island is fairly big and there are a lot of peninsulas and extremities to be discovered. There is a bus service but a lot of planning would be required to rely on that to visit everywhere you might want to visit. Take your car, motorbike, motorhome or other jalopy of choice. I don’t have an EV but if you do you should be okay. If the long journey to the ferry ports put you off you can hire a car at Stornoway Airport, though I don’t imagine it is particularly cheap. The island was popular with cyclists too.

Apart from the wandering cows, a typical road and apart from the wandering human, a typical single track road.

Shopping for provisions was another thing that we wondered about. Wonder no more, it’s easy. There is a Tesco in Stornoway which covers your every need and is even open on a Sunday (see below). They even have the delivery service which seems to serve everywhere on the island no matter how much on a limb they might be. As mentioned there are stores in most villages to pick up bits and pieces and there are a lot of roadside honesty box places to pick up some locally produced products (especially eggs).

Sunday trading: this was highlighted as a possible issue. The islands are known for their traditional views on the Sabbath. There’s a lot of churches for a smallish population with a Church of Scotland and Free Church of Scotland in most villages. When I first came to Scotland some forty years ago I was told that the islands were so devout that hanging your washing out on a Sunday was illegal. I think those who told me might have been exaggerating a bit but even now not much opens on a Sunday. We did pass a caravan in a lay-by selling coffee on the road between Tarbert and Luskentyre so it is obvious not everyone is afraid of the wrath of the Presbyterian ministers, but this is the exception rather than the rule. In answer to the age old question, however, yes, some people do hang their washing out on a Sunday.

Ignoring the wrath of the local clergy, and maybe that of Jesus himself, Coffee Isle Harris is open for business on a Sunday.

Language: apparently 60% of the residents of Lewis and Harris speak Gaelic. Road signs are often in Gaelic first and English second and even the Tesco aisles are signed in Gaelic, with English below in a less conspicuous font. Place names are almost exclusively Gaelic although many are of Norse origin rather than celtic. Does this mean you will have a problem communicating when you are there? No, not at all. All of the Gaelic speakers also speak perfectly good English and along with the 40% that have English as a first language, you are unlikely to hear much Gaelic at all.

Mobile phone coverage: we all like to keep connected, even if we go somewhere remote to get a way from it all. The mobile signal was a lot better than I expected. There’s obviously a few places on the extremities that are masked from the nearest mobile towers but in general I had a decent 4G signal all over the island. The internet access at the accommodation was reasonable too. It may have been slightly more laggy than on the mainland but it worked fine for anything we needed it for.

Eating: The island is not awash with dining out options. There’s a few restaurants in Stornoway and one or two others in larger settlements but being in Achmore meant we tended to eat our evening meals at the accommodation. We did try one restaurant in Stornoway and on another evening we got takeaway pizza from a company that produced them in a shipping container in a lay-by not far from where we were staying. Very nice they were too. There are plenty of coffee shops and community cafes for lunch and cake though.

Crust Pizza is a small, but popular concern. The pizza closest to the camera is ‘Out of Stornoway’ with haggis and the local speciality, black pudding.

In Conclusion

Is Lewis/Harris worth the effort to get there? Yes, absolutely, if you are looking for a week or so away from the crowds with nice scenery, golden sands and a more relaxed atmosphere than most other places in the UK. We thoroughly enjoyed our week there and would happily go back. Our judgement is, of course, enhanced by the weather we had which was better than we could have reasonably hoped for. Our previous break on Northwest Scotland (on the mainland, not the islands) had seen rain of biblical proportions and had that happened whilst we were on Lewis we may well have formed a different opinion. As it is though, that remote island out in the Atlantic proved us with a magnificent summer holiday.

Yes, that’s me.

Technik Museums

Last year I blogged about a River Cruise I had taken on the Rhine. In it I mentioned that I’d visited a museum in the town of Speyer. I gave scant details about it and shared just three of the gazillion photos I had taken but that’s not because I didn’t like it. It was the Technik Museum and packed to the brim with aircraft, trains, u-boats, spaceships and other bits of mechanical hardware that make gentlemen of a certain age go a bit weak at the knees. As it happens Germany has two Technik Museums, this one at Speyer and a similar one at Sinsheim, some fifty kilometres away. Naturally, I had to do the set so a plan was formulated earlier this year. As with my trip to Amsterdam to fly on a DC-3 some three years ago, I would be accompanied by my friend and fellow avgeek Graeme for this journey. A year ago we had gone to Paris to visit the Musee de l’Air et Espace, taking the Eurostar to get there, but ended up having limited time at the museum itself due to us having to rearrange our return home plans thanks to a French ATC strike. Who’d have guessed? Anyway, we enjoyed the time we had there and resolved to visit more museums full of old aircraft. The plan for this year’s old plane extravaganza was a simple one: fly from Glasgow to Frankfurt with Lufthansa, get the train to Heidelberg, stay in the Ibis hotel next to the station and on the subsequent two days take the train to Speyer and Sinsheim to visit the museums. Although we knew little about it, Heidelberg proved to be a handy place between the two museums to base ourselves. Apart from a delay at German passport control and a late running train, getting to Heidelberg proved very straight forward and we were all set for our Technik Museums adventure.

Technik Museum Speyer

There must have been a reason why we chose to do Speyer first but I can’t remember what it was. A regional transport day pass was obtained at Heidelberg station for €19 and then a regional train delivered us to Speyer’s Hauptbahnhoff in about fifty minutes. A local bus got us to the museum via the city’s rather attractive (in the spring sunshine) main street. Before you enter the museum you get sight of several exhibits, some of which are situated outside the museum’s fence, others being mounted high on plinths and can be seen from some distance away. We each purchased a ticket that covered both museums including entry to the iMax theatres at both venues. They cost €52, a saving of €6 on buying them individually. If you don’t fancy the iMax, and as the various shows have been dubbed into German you might not want to, it is cheaper to buy individual tickets, €23 at each location. Children aged 5-14 get a discount, children under 5 go free. Armed with our tickets we passed through the turnstile and entered the first display hall. The museum has two main halls and an extensive number of exhibits situated outside. As mentioned, some of these are mounted on plinths and can be accessed by stairs. The most striking exhibit is a Boeing 747-200 formerly of Lufthansa that dominates the skyline both in the museum and beyond. Equally as impressive is a massive Soviet era Antonov An-22 in Aeroflot colours so naturally we made a beeline for both of those. It is quite bizarre climbing up stars to enter these behemoths of the sky and exploring all their nooks and crannies. However, there was much, much more to see. Although we didn’t count them there are supposedly more than 70 aircraft on display at Speyer and we must have seen them all. Commercial airliners, military aircraft, water bombers, wartime transports, cold war jets, we lapped it all up. The second display hall was dedicated mainly to spaceflight and contained a Soviet Buran space shuttle, not something you will see at any other museum. In fact it is fair to say that Speyer has got aviation pretty much covered. Not quite though as you will find out later.

The museum is not all about flight though. There is a big collection of railway locomotives, displays of cars, fire engines, some maritime stuff including an old U-boat and some mechanical organs. There is also a larger number of motorbikes that share the second hall with the space exhibition. It takes at least a day to see everything. We saw most but missed out on the motorbikes. The iMax showing was A Beautiful Planet including a lot of film taken on board the ISS. As mentioned, the soundtrack was dubbed into German and my German is limited to ‘ja’, ‘nein’ and ‘auf wiedersehn’ but the visuals were good enough to keep me awake for at least half of the show. There is a large cafe for lunch and much needed refreshment – it was a warm, humid day – and a big gift shop where I managed to not buy anything. The museum was very quiet on the day we visited. I’d expected groups of schoolkids on their end of term excursions but there were none. Having been there some fourteen months earlier took nothing away from the day at all, the museum is pretty awesome and Graeme was in full agreement. We retraced our steps to Heidelberg, grabbed a burger for dinner and prepared for Day Two.

Speyer photos coming up. Most will be from my previous visit as I felt I didn’t need to take any more so I could simply enjoy the exhibits.

Boeing 747 outside
Boeing 747 inside
Antonov An-22 outside
Antonov An-22 inside
Dassault Mercure, outside and inside
Vickers Viscount outside and inside
F4 Phantom and Hawker Hunter
Canadair CL-215 and Antonov An-2
Buran Space Shuttle
Chinese steam and German diesel locomotives
Nautical stuff
Automotive stuff

Technik Museum Sinsheim

Once again we purchased €19 regional day tickets and jumped on a train going in the other direction. The journey was a bit shorter and there is a station right by the museum itself. The weather was less kind to us but we managed to avoid the worst of the rain by fitting in the outdoor exhibits between showers. Like Speyer, Sinsheim has mounted some of its aviation exhibits on plinths, most of which are on top of Hall Two. Not wanting to be outdone by Speyer and its huge aircraft exhibits, Sinsheim has got not one, but two supersonic airliners on the roof. An ex-Air France Concorde is mounted next to an ex-Aeroflot Tu-144. This is unique and a big deal for aviation enthusiasts. We were both going ‘wow’ and we hadn’t entered the museum yet. Once inside the gate we set off on our voyage of discovery once more. There are slightly fewer aviation exhibits at Sinsheim but it still took up a big chunk of the day seeing them. The stars were, of course, the supersonics. Last year, in our brief visit to the museum in Paris, we got to see two Concordes side by side which was pretty special. Seeing a Concorde next to the Tu-144, given the nickname ‘Concrodski’ by the western press, was on another level. We went inside both, the Tupolev first. The Tu-144 was, by a few months, the first supersonic transport aircraft to fly. It was slightly bigger than Concorde, went slightly faster and was slightly earlier into service. Funny, that. It wasn’t a success, however, for a number of reasons. That being said it was still quite incredible being on board one, even though it isn’t going anywhere any time soon. Having said that, and you can call me biased if you want to, but the Anglo-French Concorde is just a bit sexier than the Russian Tu-144.

What else is there to see at Sinsheim? Loads. In fact if your primary focus is cars then it beats Speyer hands down. Graeme likes Formula One and told me he’s never seen so many F1 cars in one place and he’s even attended some races. As well as racers, there are hundreds of vintage cars, sports cars, military cars, American limousines and there was a special exhibition in Hall 3 about Volkswagen vs Opel. There is also a large military display with tanks, trucks, armoured cars and so on with some of the wartime aircraft included. If tractors are your thing there is a section of Hall 2 dedicated to agricultural vehicles and like Speyer, they are very proud of their U-boat, this one being from the 70s but no less cramped inside. There is a big cafe again and the iMax show was Hubble, another one with footage from the ISS but in 3D this time. Yes, it was in German and yes, I did drop off more than once behind the polarising glasses but the showing was after lunch and a pint of Museum Lager so defy anyone else not to do the same. One other thing to note was the slides. To keep those kids entertained, who might otherwise be less than enthralled about examples of old engineering, there were numerous slides from the platforms on which some exhibits stood and the ground. There was one at Speyer too, a long one down from the 747. We didn’t indulge. Having spent most of the day there we headed back to Heidelberg and decided we ought to have something German for dinner, choosing Das Boots Haus where very large schnitzels were served with a most acceptable pils lager.

Our return home the following morning went off without a hitch and we both agreed that it had been a very successful trip. It might not be everyone’s idea of fun spending two days gazing at old bits of metal but if you are the sort that likes museums full of planes, cars, submarines, space vehicles, railway engines and plenty of other mechanical things then the Technik Museums really should be on your ‘to do’ list. Unless you have already done them in which case you could do worse than do them again.

Sinsheim photos coming up, all taken on this visit.

Not many museums have two supersonic airliners enticing you in.
Tupolev Tu-144 and BAC/Aerospatiale Concorde
Tu-144 and Concorde again from a unique angle.
Tu-144 and Concorde flight decks
Tupolev Tu-134 and Ilyushin IL-18
Ilyushin IL-14 and Vickers Viscount
Junkers Ju-87 and Heinkel 111
Nicky Lauda’s F1 car and Back To The Future De Lorean
Electric locomotive and a 1970s U-Boat
More planes on plinths.
I’ve no idea what this is.

An Island Hopping Saga

The Spirit Of Discovery in Fowey Harbour

A couple of years ago I had my first experience of travelling with that tour company for mature folk, Saga. You can read about it here. That was a short cruise up and down the English Channel. Last year I sampled their river cruising which, if you can stand it, you can read about here. This year it was back to the high seas on board Spirit of Discovery, one of two cruise ships owned by Saga and the same one I sampled two years ago. As with the past two Saga trips, I was accompanied by my mum and sister. It is a particularly good was for us to get away together as it is fair to say that mum is getting on a bit and Saga are geared up for the older traveller. We chose the cruise many months ago. All of Saga’s cruises depart from the south coast of England and whilst the itineraries are varied, that fact does put certain limitations on what they offer. To get to traditional cruising destinations like the Mediterranean or Canary Islands requires several days of getting there and back so these itineraries tend to be long. Priding themselves on all inclusive ’boutique’ cruising, a couple of weeks on board a Saga ship is going to set you back quite a lot of money. Week long cruises tend to go to the Norwegian Fjord’s, something mum and Jill have already done and the shorter sample cruise to nowhere in particular is what we all did two years ago. The itinerary we decided on was Island Hopping round the UK which was ten nights on board, a bit longer than we would have preferred, but the stops looked interesting so we booked it. Departure day was May 5th so we were hoping for the weather gods to take pity on us as we were staying in British waters and let’s be honest, anything can happen. It turned out that apart from a little glitch at the very start of the cruise, those weather gods were very much on our side.

In my previous blog (here’s the link again) I gave you an insight to what cruising on the Spirit of Adventure was like. In two years it hasn’t changed a bit which gets me out of writing about it again. The only difference was that we were in standard cabins on Deck 8 this time. When we booked there were superior cabins that were actually bit cheaper due to some promotion or other but they were dotted around the ship. We felt it was better to be close together and were allotted three standard cabins next to each other on the starboard side amidships. This had the bonus of us being able to open up our balconies to make one big one. The only difference between the standard and superior cabins is the latter have a bit more floor space and maybe an extra chair. That’s it. The standard cabin is fitted out to the same high standard as the superior ones and looked after by the hard working housekeepers in the same way. Go for superior cabins if you wish but I don’t think they are worth spending much more money on. There are a few fancier rooms and suites but I don’t think they would be worth turning an expensive cruise into a very expensive cruise for. Cabin aside, take a look at the other blog to see what facilities the ship has to offer. I’ll just add here that it is a lovely ship, just about the right size and the staff are still as good as they were last time.

Instead, for this blog, I will concentrate on the itinerary. This may not have the wow factor of the Norwegian Fjords, the interest of foreign ports or indeed the weather of the Mediterranean but… Hang on, we had fantastic weather that was actually better than parts of the Med at the time, not to mention interesting British ports and even some wow factor scenery so let’s not belittle the cruise by the simple fact that we never entered ‘foreign’ waters. Let’s get started with Day One

Day One: Portsmouth Sailaway

Experience Is Everything. Including check-in.

The nice thing about going with Saga is that they put on a nice car with a nice driver to take you to the port. It’s as if Saga guests appreciate ‘nice’. As before a rather fancy Mercedes Van pitched up on time at mum’s house in Huddersfield for the 247 mile journey to Portsmouth. As before there was one other traveller already in the vehicle. Not the same one as last time, that would have been spooky, but a 95 year old solo traveller taking her first Saga cruise. The driver was a very polite young man and he delivered us to Portsmouth without incident. Check-in was in the Brittany Ferries Terminal and formalities were completed quickly. We were bused to the ship, mum was given some assistance up the gangway and we were shown to our cabins without any fuss. The ship’s buffet restaurant, The Grill, was open for a late lunch and after that we went back to the cabin for lifeboat drill just in case we encountered any stray icebergs in the Irish or North Seas later on in the cruise. We set sail bang on time at 5pm and once we’d slipped our moorings Captain Simon Moore came on the ship’s PA system to welcome us on board and tell us that Day Two’s port of call had changed. We were due to visit the island of Guernsey in the Channel Islands but the forecast winds were in such a direction that tendering the guests to the port would be too risky so he had made the decision to take us to Fowey in Cornwall instead. This was a tad disappointing as we’d got excursions booked in Guernsey that we were looking forward to but we weren’t in a position to organise a mutiny so Fowey it was. We ate in the main dining room as we would do on most evenings. The food was as good as I remembered. Later, the ship’s entertainment company gave us a show based on rock music which may seem a bit odd for a cruise where the average age of the passenger was 79 (the cruise director gave us this information so I’m not making it up) but those present seemed to enjoy the cast’s rendition of Bat Out Of Hell.

Standard Cabin. Very comfortable and just marginally less floor space than the Superior Cabin last time.
Portsmouth sailaway with HMS Queen Elizabeth seeing us off again and the Spinnaker Tower – again.
The Saga crowd love a bit of Meatloaf.

Day Two: Guernsey Fowey

Fowey, emiting small Cornish town vibes.

Situated up a narrow estuary that the ship had to reverse up before dropping anchor, Fowey (pronounced ‘Foy’) is a very picturesque Cornish town with narrow streets and an active harbour. With the sun shining and light winds, it was hard to believe that the weather had prevented us from calling at St Peter Port in Guernsey but then I’m no expert in parking cruise ships so what would I know? Having cancelled our planned excursions on the Channel Island, Saga had quickly cobbled together a few trips from Fowey and we had rather hastily booked ourselves on one to Lanhydrock House, a National Trust property that I’d last visited thirty years ago. In hindsight we shouldn’t have bothered. The tour set off late due to delays in getting the ship’s tenders permission to land and there was a lot more walking for mum to do than we had anticipated. Consequently we had limited time in the house itself before we had to head back to the bus for the journey back to the ship. The captain had arranged for one of the ship’s tenders to do a mini cruise up and down the estuary so we nabbed one of those in the afternoon and I also had time to nip into the town. It is a very pretty town and we would have just been as well doing this in the morning rather than the tour but there you go. The evening’s entertainment was provided by Belfast comedian William Caulfield as we sailed out into the channel at the end of Day Two.

Lanhydrock House and Fowey High Street. Alas, Nile’s pasty shop was closed.

Day Three: At Sea

The obligatory lifebelt shot.

Sea days. Not much to report. We spent time in the Britannia Lounge, on deck and even in the pool. Ice creams were eaten, quizzes were entered where as usual we finished second and they day passed at a slow pace. Sailing up the Irish Sea provided little in the way of views but we enjoyed the day nevertheless. It was Formal Night, the first of two on this cruise. Now I’m not a fan of wearing collar and tie but as my mum was watching I grumpily complied. It is possible to avoid the formal dress code by eating in The Grill or staying in your cabin but we had a reservation at East Meets West, a speciality restaurant that specialises in Asian cuisine. We had eaten there two years ago and it was just as good this time. One of the nice things about Saga is everything on board is included in the price including the speciality restaurants. You’ve just got to get in quick to make a reservation. Entertainment was a choice of a Motown show in the theatre or an Abba show in the Britannia Lounge. We chose the latter. Mama mia!

The bathing beauty scrubs up well for Formal Night complete with Dastardly and Mutley tie. The sun sets on another glorious day.

Day Four: Belfast

Norn Iron red squirrel.

With views of Samson and Goliath, we moored in Belfast not far from George Best Belfast City Airport which pleased the avgeek in me. We had booked a tour for the morning, Scenic Coasts and Glens. It certainly delivered on that with a nice drive along the Antrim coast, although ‘Glens’ should really have been ‘Glen’, singular. That glen was Glenariff and the reason it was chosen was it had a teashop which is important to your average Saga guest. You could, if you were feeling relatively vigorous, go for a walk down the glen to a waterfall which I did. It was very nice but the highlight of the place was the red squirrel that was going about its business oblivious to a bloke with an iPhone taking a hundred pictures of it from not too far away. The trip back was via a different route and thanks once again to the glorious sunshine, Northern Ireland was looking rather nice. Afternoon was spent sat in the sunshine whilst I watched the comings and goings from Belfast City Airport and mum and Jill enjoyed my commentary on them. It was the 80th anniversary of VE Day and the ship’s crew made an effort. There was a religious service conducted by the ship’s chaplain which mum, who isn’t a religious person but has genuine memories of the original VE Day, wanted to attend. I can’t say any of us were too impressed. The evening show in the theatre was a variety affair with a VE Day theme which where the ship’s company and visiting acts made a better job of it than the vicar. Many flags were waved.

Norn Iron. Samson and Goliath and Glenariff
VE Day 80 celebrations. Union flags provided.

Day Five: Holyhead

North Wales. It’s quite pretty.

There was only one tour we were ever going to do on our stop in Wales. The Ffestiniog Railway is one of North Wales’ numerous narrow gauge railways and whenever the three of us are on a holiday we like to grab a bit of heritage railway action. It was an hour long bus ride to Porthmadog where the line commences its journey to Bleanau Ffestiniog in the hills. Alas, the lovely weather North Wales had been suffering for several weeks resulted in our train being diesel hauled rather than steam as the railway was keen not to be responsible for setting Wales alight from stray cinders. It wasn’t too much of a problem, the diesel loco was kind of cute anyway and the glorious scenery was the main thing. Indeed, it was a lovely run along a line that was built in the 19th century to transport slate from the mines at Bleanau to the port at Porthmadog. The journey was one way for us – the bus was awaiting us in Bleanau and it took a very scenic route through Snowdonia to get us back to the ship in time for a late lunch. The evening’s entertainment offering was something different for the ship’s resident cast of four singers and six dancers. They put on an Agatha Christie mystery. It was not a nice juicy murder to be solved by a Belgian detective, just a minor burglary at the seaside, but it was good fun and I think the performers enjoyed turning their hands to acting for a change. At least they said they did as they thanked us all for coming as we filed out. By then we were already at our next destination as it wasn’t too far away. We dropped anchor for the night off the Isle of Man, British and not British at the same time. A British Isle though, definitely, so it fitted the brief for the cruise.

Ffestiniog Railway, not steam hauled today.
Tryfan, Snowdonia, sunset over the Isle of Man and the ships singers and dances perform Agatha Christie.

Day Six: Douglas

State of the art Electric Railway

Prior to the cruise we had decided that we were going to go independent in Douglas and declined the offer to buy an official excursion. The three of us had been to the Isle of Man in 2019 and felt we knew the place and could hack a few things by ourselves. Consequently, we took a tender to the town and then took a few minutes deciding precisely what those few things would be. We decided to hit the rails again and took a taxi to the start of the Isle of Man Electric Railway at the far end of Douglas promenade. This railway – more of a tramway than a railway – trundles up the Manx coast to Ramsey on rolling stock that dates back to the 1890s. We didn’t go all the way, stopping instead in Laxey. We could have taken another tram from there up Snaefell, the highest hill on the Island, but decided instead to go on a the Laxey Mine Steam Train. This was a former mine train, or at least a modern copy. It didn’t go far but it was well worth the three quid it cost each of us. After a somewhat more comfortable tram back to Douglas we took the Horse Tram along the promenade. This was only partially open the last time we were here and it was nice to go the full distance which unfortunately wasn’t quite close enough to the port to avoid the need for another taxi. Back on board we considered that this had been a successful day of independent travel. Some new guest entertainers joined us today, one of which was an American chap called Brad Sherwood who entertained us with his magic show in the evening. I still wish I could work out how they do it.

As well as electricity, we were hauled by steam power and original horsepower.
First Class on the Electric Railway, the ship from the Electric Railway and the Electric Railway from the ship.

Day Seven: Sea Day

The Paps of Jura

Not another boring sea day I hear you ask? As it happens no it wasn’t. The captain had told us the previous day that we would not be taking the high seas route to Ullapool, complete with its Atlantic swells and increased risks of chunder, but we would do some scenic cruising amongst the islands of Scotland’s west coast. All we needed was a nice day and a place on deck that was sheltered from any wind we might encounter. Whilst there was a bit more cloud around than on previous days, it was remained nice enough for us to spend much of the day on deck with the Orca team. Orca team? What are they? It was a group of four people who accompany cruises to point out interesting wildlife which must be quite a nice gig for the guys who get them. Their presence added to what would have been a pleasant day’s cruising anyway. We had woken up passing the Mull of Kintyre and headed north past Islay and Jura. We would pass through Sound of Corryvrechan, also known as The Race, where the world’s third largest whirlpool awaits careless navigators. Thankfully our navigator wasn’t careless so we avoided being sucked down to a watery grave, and passed into the Firth of Lorn. The Sound of Mull followed before we entered less sheltered seas for the overnight transit to Ullapool. On the way we had seen maelstroms, mountains, castles, hills shaped like boobs, porpoises, two types of dolphin, a lost homing pigeon and an autogyro. After coming third in the quiz – a nice change from second – we avoided the entertainment that was on offer for some reason and had an early night. Passing through the Inner Hebrides at 12 knots is obviously tiring work.

Jura’s Paps in a bit more detail, approaching The Race, Corryvrechan Whirlpool.
Bad photo of a dolphin, Duart Castle and Glenforsa on Mull.

Day Eight: Ullapool

Ullapool. Small town set in big country.

For those who are unaware, Ullapool is in the far northwest of Scotland. It is a small town which would be of little significance were it not for the fact it hosts the ferry from the mainland to Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis. Its fame has increased in the past few years as it is a ‘major’ stop on the North Coast 500, a road trip around the top of Scotland beloved by drivers of motorhomes and less so by locals who get stuck behind the aforementioned motorhomes. It is situated in an estuary with a backdrop of hills and mountains so on a day when the sun was shining and the mercury topped out at 21C, it wasn’t going to be anything other than gorgeous. I had booked onto an afternoon tour labeled ‘strenuous’ in the official literature but mum and Jill had a free day. We took the tender into the town in the morning and discovered a boat trip for them to do in the afternoon. Consequently, off they went to discover the Summer Islands and its associated wildlife (porpoises mainly) whilst I headed off on my strenuous official trip. Strenuous is a relative term but bear in mind the average customer on the cruise was 79. It involved a bus journey to a lookout point, nothing remotely strenuous about that but then the bus took us to Corrishaloch Gorge. There was a bit of walking to do which whilst far from strenuous for a fine physical specimen like me, would certainly have been a challenge for half of those on the ship. It took us down the gorge to a suspension bridge and waterfall and was all very nice. We could then go back the way we came or take an alternative route which a handful of us did. I was five minutes late back at the bus, the others were twenty. I don’t think the guide will be offering that alternative again. Back on the ship we watched the sailaway from as the views were really rather lovely apart from the bit where we passed the headland and discovered the motorhome park. They’ve got to park them somewhere I suppose.

The non-Saga tour to the Summer Islands sets off.
Knockan Crag viewpoint and Corrishaloch Gorge and strenuous hike to the suspension bridge.
Sailaway. What’s round this headland? Oh, that’s where they hide them!

Day Nine: Kirkwall

The remaining standing stones of Steness.

The Orkney Islands lie off the north coast of Scotland across the Pentland Firth. For the first and only time on this cruise the weather let us down a bit. It was a bit misty at first and that mist developed into a low overcast for the rest of the day. As it didn’t rain and there was little wind it was, however, a cracking day for Orkney. Here we had booked two tours. The one in the morning was one of three free tours Saga offered on the cruise and consisted of a bus trip to a set of standing stones and back. Not much perhaps but as it was free it was pretty good value. Orkney has a lot of history and much of that goes back to neolithic times where standing stones were a bit of a thing for reasons we can only speculate about. We passed the impressively large Ring of Brodgar on the bus but stopped at the nearby Stones of Stenness, probably because it was nearer the car park for the less mobile guests. There’s only four stones left here, or three and a half to be precise, but it was nice to get up close and personal with them. On our return I had a brief wander round Kirkwall, taking the free shuttle bus the two miles into town before returning to the ship for trip number two. This took in Scapa Flow, the Churchill Barriers, the Italian Chapel a small Orcadian fishing village and a stop for tea and shortbread. The latter two stops were padding the tour out a bit but the first three had very interesting stories to tell. In particular the Italian Chapel which was built in 1944 by Italian prisoners of war that had been taken to Orkney to build the Churchill Barriers which guard the entrance to Scapa Flow, the stretch of water where the Royal Navy moored many of their ships between assignments in both World Wars. The Chapel was made from two Nissun Huts and anything else the prisoners could get their hands on, decorated by hand with paint traded from locals. It’s a work of art really. We departed Kirkwall in the evening and came second in the evening quiz again. The ship’s company put on a West End/Broadway show. There was a big audience for that one.

The Italian Chapel.
A Churchill Barrier, made by Italians. Scapa Flow Selfie. The Orkney flag looking suspiciously Norwegian.
“Um diddl iddle iddle um diddle eye”

Day Ten: Sea Day

Scenic North Sea Cruising.

Getting from the north of Scotland to Dover takes a while in a ship so there was no chance of any scenic cruising today unless you count gas platforms and wind turbines as scenic. The lack of stops on this final leg of the journey did mean I could get some washing done – there are two laundrettes on board for passengers to use – though I’d managed to get most of it done on Day Seven. Laundry might not add much fun to a holiday but it makes the getting home bit more bearable. That aside we spent much of the day doing very little as the North Sea passed by. We had a go at deck quoits, played a bit of table tennis and I even took another dip in the pool. In the evening we dined in The Club, another speciality restaurant that is basically a steakhouse. We hadn’t meant it to be our last supper so to speak but reservations can be hard to come by. We never managed to get a reservation in the third speciality restaurant which does seafood. Our final chance of glory in the evening quiz came to naught, we didn’t even come second for goodness sake, and a variety show in the theatre gave us a chance to say cheerio to the performers. With suitcases left in the corridor for collection it was lights out for one last time.

Serious deck quoit action, The Club fare and Latin Fever, the only fever on board that didn’t result in quarantine.
The final curtain call.

Day Eleven: Dover Disembarkation

Dover Cruise Ship Terminal with a bit of White Cliff behind.

The sharp eyed amongst you will notice that we ended the cruise at a different port to the one where we started. I don’t know why but it really doesn’t matter too much with Saga where a fleet of Mercedes vans are on hand to whisk all the passengers to where they need to go. Disembarkation was a straightforward process and within a few minutes we were heading northwards along with the same lady who had shared our car on the way down. The journey was slightly less straightforward due to a big hold up on the M25 resulting in us detouring through London, crossing beneath the Thames via the Blackwall Tunnel, but we arrived back at mum’s house at 15:00 which was precisely the time I had estimated before setting off. Thus ended my third Saga experience.

To conclude, this cruise was a great success. Yes, the weather gods were on our side but I can’t fault Saga for what they do for their target audience. The only question you need to ask is are you the target audience and there’s more to that question than just being of the required age. If the answer is yes then you get a ship that is big enough to be interesting but small enough to be personal, a nicely equipped cabin with a balcony, decent entertainment, excellent service throughout, all the drink you could ever need (other than Diet Coke) and some really excellent food. Add to that the transport to and from the port and included (sort of) insurance and it is an ideal package for those who want a holiday without the hassle. They are not cheap – this ten day cruise in a single occupancy cabin cost just shy of £5,000 with optional tours on top of that but my bill at the end of the cruise meant that Saga owed me money (due to the cancelled excursions in Guernsey) as I hadn’t spent an additional penny on board. Last year I sampled Cunard’s service on the Transatlantic crossing and found it good. In cruising terms, Saga was on a par with them, if not better. They just need to ditch the Pepsi for Coke although I suspect I was the only person on board who was bothered about that aspect of the cruise.

Cross Country

Cross Country Trains Class 220 Voyager. Looks cool. Isn’t.

Apologies for the lack of action on this blogging site. I tend to do mini blogs on Facebook, usually day by day on any trips I make. I feel this is adequate for the stuff I’m doing but I really ought to make the effort to blog about entire trips or anything that takes my fancy. It’s not been happening though and it is possible that I might wind the site up when it comes to the annual invoice from WordPress. We will see. To prove to myself I’m still in the zone for blog writing, I’m sharing with you a little trip I did recently. A year or so ago I travelled down to Stourbridge in the West Midlands to ride on the Stourbridge Shuttle, a train ride that lasts all of three minutes. You can read about it here although it was more about the reaction to it than the journey itself. It turns out that that particular train trip is the shortest in the country. Yes, there are stations closer together but the trains connecting them do not start and end there. The Stourbridge Shuttle completes an entire 0.8 mile journey between its point of departure and final destination. So what? I hear you say. Well, if that is the shortest, there has to be a longest. Once again by longest we are meaning a complete journey by one train. You could travel from the far north of Scotland to the extreme south west of England but you would have to change trains a few times. The longest single journey is, however, from the not quite far north of Scotland to the extreme south west of England. It departs Aberdeen at 08:20 each weekday and arrives in Penzance at 21:31. As the return service doesn’t go all the way to Aberdeen, the southbound service is officially the longest train ride in the country at 13 hrs 11 mins and 774 or 785 miles depending on which source you believe. I had to do it, didn’t I?

Unlike the Stourbridge experience I couldn’t do the journey to Aberdeen and back from Penzance in a day so I had to do a bit of forward planning. I’d head to Aberdeen the day before, spend a night in a Premier Inn, do the trip, spend another night in a Premier Inn in Penzance and return home the day after. All tickets and hotels were secured at the beginning of January which was handy as there was a sale on, part of Railway 200 celebrations. The hotels were inexpensive too. I’ll reveal the costings at the end. To get to Aberdeen I took the local Scotrail service to Glasgow Central, walked to Queen Street and took the Inter7City service to Aberdeen. The nice thing about the latter service was that it was on board an Inter City 125, the world’s fastest diesel train, the grand old lady of active British trains. Whilst their days of doing 125mph have past they still provide a comfortable and pleasant ride between Scotland’s seven cities despite being well over forty years old. Having obtained them from GWR and refurbished them to modern standards seven years ago, Scotrail have stated that they are going to get rid of them and replace them with something almost certainly less exciting and probably less comfortable too. This seems to be the way with trains at the moment. Whatever happens, I was glad to get this opportunity to ride in one and it delivered me to Aberdeen on time. A wander through a strangely quiet town centre got me to the Premier Inn and a handy curry house nearby.

Class 43, aka Intercity 125. Looks cool. Is.

Retracing my steps the following morning, I returned to the station in good time for the 08:20 departure. The train was sitting at the platform having arrived from Dundee earlier which allowed me to take the necessary photographs before boarding and finding my seat for the next 13.5 hours. The train was a Class 220 Voyager operated by Cross Country Trains. The train and indeed the company are not particularly well loved by the travelling public. It was a four car unit which gave it a passenger capacity that would prove woefully inadequate later. The front carriage was reserved for First Class passengers and it was here where my seat was situated. There was a not insubstantial premium to travel in First Class, an amount that was far more than the value of the included catering we were supposed to receive. It was, however, worth it for the extra amount of personal space it gave you and the fact it meant avoiding the overcrowded Standard Class carriages further back. If I was going to be on the train for over thirteen hours I wanted to be as comfortable as possible. The chair itself was nothing special – it was a bit worn and not particularly kind to the old bum but there was a bit of recline which was nice and being a solo seat there was no need to worry about facing or sitting beside some other traveller. I had read that a forward facing seat on the left hand side was the best for the views. Mine was rearward facing and on the right. I wasn’t too disappointed but I did miss out of photographing most of the interesting sights on the way which is possibly a blessing as there’s not many worth including in this blog. We departed Aberdeen right on time and were immediately subjected to a ticket check. The carriage steward came down the aisle and served us hot drinks and some seventeen minutes after departing we made a stop at Stonehaven. This was the first of 39 intermediate stations we would call at including some biggies like York and Birmingham New Street and some small ones like Ladybank and Liskeard. We would sit at some stations for a few minutes as the train crews were changed and supplies were reloaded but for most of them we spent no more than a minute. Before the second stop, Montrose, the steward handed out bacon rolls which looked a bit insipid but were not actually too bad. For the next few hours we were regularly visited by the steward with drinks and snacks. No alcohol though, my request for a beer went unheeded. I could have gone in to Standard Class and bought one from their trolly service but I wasn’t that desperate, not a 11 in the morning at any rate. The first of several notable bridges was crossed after leaving Dundee. The Tay Bridge, which we crossed seemingly at snail’s pace, impressively spans (of which there are many) the Firth of Tay and deposits southbound trains in the Kingdom of Fife where the aforementioned Ladybank is one of the small towns we would visit in that grandly named county. We left Fife by way of notable bridge number two, the Forth Bridge, possibly the most impressive piece of Victorian engineering in Britain. Like most bridges it is better seen when not on it but it is still an impressive sight seeing the bits of the structure pass by just a few feet away.

My seat for the next 13+ hours. It was ok, not exactly plush but better than Standard Class.
First Class Catering. No silver service on Cross Country.
Tay Bridge, it has lasted longer than the original.
Forth Bridge. Scotland’s Eiffel Tower, only better.
Edinburgh Castle in moody silhouette and Arthur’s Seat hiding behind a fence.
My rather pathetic attempt at capturing the Scotland (unicorn)/England (lion) border.
Tyne Bridges and Durham Cathedral. As with the Tay Bridge I had to sneak over to the other side to get the photo.

Our first extended stop was Edinburgh Waverley where there was even enough time to stretch my legs on the platform. That brought back memories of ‘smoke’ stops on long distance trains in Canada and the USA, not that anyone could have a fag of course. The train then followed the East Coast Mainline which for some of its length runs along the coast either side of the Scotland/England border. That border was passed nearly three and a half hours after departing Aberdeen. At Newcastle we got a crew change but the galley wasn’t restocked as it should have been so any chance of something warm for lunch was gone. Leaving the ECML just to the south of York, we entered the best part of God’s Own County, the West bit. Passing through Wakefield I caught sight of the mighty Emley Moor Mast and was tantalisingly close to the place I spent my formative years. Not for long though, we entered South Yorkshire with the stop at Sheffield being the half way point of the journey. I was feeling good, if slightly peckish. The train, however, was getting busy. The seat reservations were confusing a lot of people in First Class. Back in steerage the aisles and vestibules were filling up with standing passengers. Passing through the East Midlands on what for me are unfamiliar tracks, the scenic stretches dried up somewhat. The West Midlands was no improvement, Birmingham is a huge industrial sprawl when seen from the train.

Emley Moor Mast, proudly thrusting skywards and Chesterfield’s spire, wonkily thrusting skywards.
I finally resort to listening to IQ as outside the window the midlands didn’t have much to offer. Except the HS2 work in Birmingham.

Our arrival at New Street allowed the galleys to be restocked, not that we’d find out until much later. The train was, by now, absolutely rammed which may have had something to do with the horse racing at Cheltenham. If it was not that, several gentlemen on board were going to a fancy dress party dressed as turf accountants. Arriving at Cheltenham itself didn’t improve the situation and it wasn’t until Bristol that things started to ease and Exeter before there were any unoccupied seats. Meanwhile someone discovered that there had indeed been some provisions loaded in Birmingham but the trolly service was suspended due to aisles and vestibules being blocked. If you wanted something you had to visit the galley. By the time I realised this the only hot option was a sausage roll so I had it. After Bristol the catering ended although we were welcome to raid the remaining snacks and soft drinks. Scenery wise, things had picked up after escaping the Birmingham conurbation as we skirted the cotswolds before Bristol and enjoyed a pleasant Somerset sunset after. By the time we reached Exeter at 18:45 the light had faded and the rest of the journey was completed in darkness. This meant missing seeing the stretch of line along the seawall at Dawlish, the Royal Albert Bridge and the scenic Cornish countryside. With the last three hours of the journey taking place in darkness, things started to drag. As the last few stations were ticked off, however, Penzance was getting closer and at 21:42, some eleven minutes behind schedule, we pulled into Platform 4 and came to a standstill. Britain’s longest (single) train journey done and dusted.

A Somerset Sunset means the solar panels are little more than rural artwork until sunrise the following day.
Your correspondent reporting from Penzance, his epic journey completed.
Penzance welcomed me when I arrived but I waited until the morning to photo the welcoming committee. The train that delivered me there is behind and just about to depart, destination Edinburgh.

That evening’s Premier Inn was just across the road from the station and a little further was USA Chicken which, thankfully, was open. It was more kebab shop than a KFC clone but it provided me a fried chicken wrap the size of a well inflated rugby ball. My hunger didn’t last long. My journey home started at 09:10 the following morning with a ride in a GWR Class 802 IET to London Paddington. This is another train that is loathed by railway enthusiasts but in reality, apart from a lack of padding in the seats, it is a decent machine on which to make a five hour journey to the capital. I was in First Class again as it only cost £7 more than Standard and I really enjoyed the journey. I got to see what I’d missed when it went dark the previous evening and then had the chance to enjoy the Taunton-Reading branch of the Great Western Mainline. From Paddington I caught the Heathrow Express which is vastly overpriced but if you plan more than a month in advance and use a railcard you can pick up a ‘bargain’. From Heathrow it was a BA flight to Glasgow, the airport bus and train from Glasgow Central to Barassie completing the trip.

The Class 802 that would whisk me to London was called Shania Train. GWR have a sense of humour.
Train enthusiasts hate them but I think it looks rather smart. The seat could be a bit softer but otherwise it was fine.
It was nice to get to see what I’d missed in the darkness of the previous evening. Here is the Royal Albert Bridge crossing the Tamar and taking us into Devon.
Speeding along the seawall at Dawlish and the Westbury White Horse. To be fair, the horse was on a different line to the one I came down on.

Would I do it again? No, but that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it. It’s a long old haul but that’s the point. You get to see a good bit of Britain on the way, warts and all, but the important thing is knowing that you’ve done it. I wasn’t the only one to think the same thing – there were at least five other folk making the journey for the same reason as me and that was just in the First Class carriage. A longer, newer, better catered and more comfortable train would not have gone amiss but I wasn’t expecting Pullman service. Here’s the thing though, it was just as well I did it when I did as this service is due to be curtailed in the middle of May. The train will likely depart Aberdeen and terminate at Plymouth. This will inconvenience hardly anyone other than folk like me that want to do the full journey ‘because it is there’. Its ending will, however, hand over the crown of Britain’s longest (single) rail journey to the Caledonian Sleeper’s service between Euston and Fort William. Will that be on my to do list come May? No, as I already did it five years ago. You can read about it here.

Costings:

Barassie-Aberdeen, Standard Class £22.70 (Split ticket, senior railcard)

Premier Inn Aberdeen £46

Aberdeen-Penzance, First Class £161.55 (Senior Railcard. Standard Class was £62.20)

Premier Inn Penzance £54

Penzance-Paddington, First Class £48.60 (Senior Railcard, Standard Class was £41.00)

Heathrow Express, Standard Class £6.65 (Senior Railcard, one month advanced purchase)

Heathrow-Glasgow with British Airways £58.00

Airport Bus Free (Scottish Entitlement Card)

Glasgow Central-Barassie £5 (Scottish Entitlement Card)

Slow Route To Victoria Pt 2

New York to Victoria

Rocky Mountain High

For Part One of the tale of my mega trip from my home in Troon to see my daughter in Victoria, Canada, using surface transport, click HERE.

I finished Pt 1 of this two part blog having disembarked the Queen Mary 2 in New York and getting a taxi to the Moynihan Train Hall in the middle of Manhattan. To get to Victoria within the rules I’d set myself I had to get across the North American continent without using aircraft. There are limited options for doing this. I quickly decided that train was the only mode of transport I would consider – Greyhound Bus never entered my thoughts – so I had looked into the various rail routes from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Whilst rail travel is by no means popular in the USA or Canada, there are a number of ways to cross the continent by train. I could have caught a train to Toronto and then taken The Canadian, a fantastic four day trip across Canada to Vancouver. I had done this before though and wanted to try something different. I decided that the US operator Amtrak had the best option, a three day journey to Seattle utilising two different trains. On reaching Seattle I could have taken an Amtrak bus to Vancouver where I could then get a ferry but I decided to stay the night in Seattle and get the FRS Clipper ferry the following morning directly to Victoria. I reserved roomettes on the trains some ten months in advance along with the transatlantic crossing on the QM2. The first train was The Lakeshore Limited. This runs from New York to Chicago, a 21 hour overnight journey. After five hour wait in Chicago, The Empire Builder would take me to Seattle in a total of 46 hours over two nights.

Moynihan Train Hall, New York

The Moynihan Train Hall is a new expansion of New York’s Penn Station. It was completed in 2021 and is rather magnificent. They say that first impressions count which meant my initial thoughts on Amtrak were very positive. On long distance trains you can check your luggage through to your destination which is a particularly good idea if you have a roomette. There isn’t a lot of room in there for a couple of suitcases. On the last day of the transatlantic voyage I had made sure to pack a small bag with the stuff required for three nights on the train and headed to the main Amtrak ticket office where the two suitcases were checked through all the way to Seattle. I then headed to a very nice business class lounge which is open to sleeper passengers. A much needed sandwich and a couple of drinks whilst overlooking the main concourse was very pleasant, especially after being in a bit of a rush to get there. About twenty minutes before departure we were called to head down to the train. I was in luck. I had been given an upgrade. Instead of a roomette I was in a bedroom which had more space and an en suite. Things were going well! It wasn’t a long train and it was easy enough to find my room. Sure enough, it was a bedroom rather than the roomette. That was about as good as it got for this first journey. We departed bang on time into the labyrinth of train tunnels beneath New York before emerging into the daylight in the north of the city. The car steward introduced himself and congratulated me on the cabin upgrade. He then mentioned the downside which was the best views were on the other side of the train. The track runs alongside the Hudson River for quite a long way and my views of this were through the corridor window. It wan’t much of a problem to be honest but it put a slight dampener on the joy of the upgrade. The room itself was, well, tatty. Trains to the east of Chicago use Viewliner stock which is old and badly in need of refurbishment or better still, replacement. Size is limited by the tunnels that run through New York and whilst they seem big enough, when you compare them to the Superliner stock that runs on the services to the west of Chicago they feel inadequate. The train consists of a couple of Viewliner sleeping cars, a restaurant car, baggage car and two or three coach cars but doubles in size when it reaches Albany and is coupled up to the Boston service. The bedroom features a bench seat that converts to a bed, with another bed that can be pulled down to form a bunk. There is a strange looking extra chair that serves no purpose other than to reduce the available space. I tried sitting in it but it was in a bad state of repair that I got straight out of it again. The en suite was a wet room so a bit of planning may be required as to the order of one’s ablutions. It was perhaps the best feature of the room as everything else was tired and worn. There was a little sink with a couple of plug sockets and a table by the window. When I booked the trip I seem to remember a room cost quite a bit more than a roomette. I’m glad I didn’t have to pay that premium.

Sleeper Car Bedroom. An upgrade from the Roomette. Complete with pointless extra chair and compact en suite.

We progressed along the eastern bank of the Hudson for a couple of hours before we reached Albany. I spent much of that trying to connect to the train’s wifi. I had bought a sim card before I departed the UK to use data in the USA and Canada. I was kind of hoping that the train’s wifi would mean I could stay connected to the outside world. It didn’t work. I was destined to be ‘off grid’ for my entire trip across the USA except for a couple of wifi hotspots I managed to briefly connect to. It was quite a major downer for me. I know we are supposed to enjoy being unconnected to the world from time to time but on a solo journey like this I do like to keep in touch with friends, family and above all Elaine. We had about an hour in Albany where I was able to use the station wifi and that was me off grid until I arrived at my hotel in Seattle. Down on the tracks the other half of the Lake Shore Limited had arrived from Boston and was shunted into our half to double the size of the train. We set off again into the evening. I had a dinner booking for 7:15pm so headed along to the dining car. I plumped for the Chicken Enchiladas. It wasn’t great. The meals are prepared in advance and heated up on the train and compared with my previous experience of train food across the border in Canada, it was poor. Later I wandered along the train to the cafe/bar where I bought a Twix. I mention this only because it got me a walk through the rest of the train to see how the coach passengers were getting on. They were making themselves comfortable for the night in their seats. These looked decent but I’d have hated to try and sleep the night on them. Stops at Utica and Syracuse gave me a brief chance to stretch my legs – such stops are called ‘smoke stops’ although smoking wasn’t compulsory – and eventually it was time for bed. With a little bit of difficulty I worked out how to set the bed up – I’m sure the car steward would have done it for me had I asked – and I settled down to try and sleep.

The Hudson, from the bedroom and from the corridor.
Albany Station, an oasis of WiFi and Coach seats. They look comfy enough but I wouldn’t want to spend a night on them.

It wasn’t a great night. I slept on and off but along with the general rattling of a fifty year old Viewliner car and a very whiney A/C, every so often the train would make a rather violent sideways motion, possibly as we passed over the points onto another track. I got up and used the en suite. It was a bit bijou of course but the water was warm and at least I didn’t have to wander down the corridor to the ‘public’ shower. Breakfast was another reheated effort, ok but nothing special, and I settled back in the room as we passed through midwest farmland and the industrial outskirts of Chicago. We arrived five minutes early. I wasn’t unhappy to get off the train.

Maumee River and Toledo Station with many platforms no longer in use.
The long and industrial approach to Chicago before a glimpse of the downtown skyline.

I had five hours in Chicago before the next leg of the journey. I happen to have relatives in Chicago, or, to be more precise, north of Chicago. What’s more, I had only met one of them before. We’ve known each other for a few years now through social media via other relatives in Canada who had got in contact with my mum via a genealogy website. David is my third cousin and was there with his wife Jane and daughter Erin. I had met Erin before when she was over in Edinburgh. The three of them were there to meet me getting off the train and later joined by Erin’s cousin Kiersten and we spent a happy few hours together wandering round downtown Chicago and enjoying one of the famous Chicago pizzas. It was delicious! Alas, Amtrak waits for no man, just freight trains, so I was back at the station in time to catch The Empire Builder to Seattle, a 2206 mile journey through seven states. I didn’t receive an upgrade on this train so on boarding I went to find my roomette. This wasn’t as easy as it should have been. It was Room 1 in car 730. I couldn’t find car 730. I found car 830 but if I know one thing about the number 830, it isn’t 730. I walked up and down the train a couple of times before I found an Amtrak employee. I was getting a bit flustered by then. I was informed that car 730 was down there. I’ve been down there I said and can only find car 830. She informed me that that was the correct car. It is called car 830 on the eastbound service and they don’t bother changing the number, presumably just to confuse first time passengers on the service. I finally discovered my roomette just as we made an on time departure from Chicago.

The Chicago Welcome Committee at Grand Central Station
Willis, formerly Sears Tower from the bottom and the ‘Neil in a 91F Chicago’ shot.
What can be more Chicago than Pizza Pie and the elevated railway?
The Chicago Farewell Committee.

The stock used on trains to the west of Chicago is an improvement on that used to the east. The Superliner cars are double deckers and whilst not exactly new, my car was in a much better state than the Viewliner that had delivered me to Chicago. The roomette contained two seats facing each other which converted into the lower bunk with a pull out table between them. There was a small closet with a couple of hangers that should immediately be removed as they annoyingly clunk about with the motion of the train. Above is a pull down bunk which suggests the roomette can be used by two people but it would be a bit of a squeeze. It came in useful, however, as there is no space for bags on the floor. With the bed half pulled down my two pieces of hand luggage were placed on top out of the way along with the bedding for the lower bunk when in day mode. The downside was I cracked my head on the bunk whilst getting out of the seat on several occasions. There are two 110V US power sockets. The nearest toilet was across the corridor and downstairs there were more loos and a shower which was stocked with towels and bars of soap. There was also a luggage stack for larger items if you didn’t fancy checking in your suitcases. Carlos, the cabin steward, was in a roomette across the corridor and a thoroughly decent chap. The rest of the train consisted of more sleeper cars, several coach cars with similar seating to that on the previous train, a dining car and the panorama car which had a cafe on the lower deck. Thanks to the panorama car and the overall state of the train, it was a marked improvement on the Lake Shore Limited.

Roomette. Fine for one person, a bit of a squeeze for two.
Panorama Car. Only available to Spokane.
Two of these locomotives were required to haul us across America. The smoke stop at Minot was utilised for some DIY window cleaning. Alas, my roomette was on the other side so remained dirty for the entire trip.

The train headed northwards to Milwaukee and then northwest towards Minneapolis. Progress was stop-start due to passing freight trains and a tech issue. Long distance Amtrak trains utilise lines owned by the fright companies in much the same way as ViaRail do in Canada so it was no surprise. As it turned out, these were the last delays of note we encountered and we were pretty much on time for the rest of the journey. I headed for dinner which as before is included in the fare for sleeper passengers. Coach passengers can pay $45 and are fitted in at the end of service for sleeper passengers. Like the train in general, the food was a big improvement on what I’d been served on the Lake Shore Regional. You are allocated a specific time for dinner and when called you are seated at the first available table. As a solo traveller this means you get to meet some interesting people. For the first dinner my dining companions were a university lecturer, an orthodox presbyterian minister and a young mum with an eleven month old baby. I’d end up sitting with the first two on other occasions but the mum got off somewhere in North Dakota in the wee small hours. Amtrak do a signature dish of Flatiron Steak so I decided to give that a try. It was pretty good. An alcoholic drink is included and along with the lecturer and minister I went for a beer. I headed for bed at around 10:30pm. I asked Carlos to make the bed up and took notes so I could do it myself the following evening. The bed and bedding were comfortable and I had high hopes for a decent night’s sleep.

I can now say I’ve been to Milwaukee.
What’s for dinner?
Dinner. I managed to score an extra delicious Brie for my starter as the bloke across the way didn’t want his, Amtrak’s signature flatiron steak for the main course. No photo of the cheesecake, sorry.

It was a decent night’s sleep. I did wake up at 04:50 but that was a good thing as I witnessed the most glorious pre-sunrise with northern skyline a shade of crimson that I have never seen before. We had just passed Fargo, North Dakota and after another couple of hours sleep I awoke again to the endless flat lands of the Great Plains. I headed to the lower deck to try the shower which was very good and after getting dressed I went to the dining car to get my name on the breakfast waiting list. Once called I had a good breakfast of omelette, sausage, potatoes and a croissant at a table shared with a grandad, mum and son on their way to Glacier Park. As usual, interesting stories were swapped and friendships that lasted for a whole day were forged, such is the nature of long distance train travel in these parts. At lunch I was sat opposite Bruce and Becca and next to Jim. Bruce was a recently retired dairy farmer from Wisconsin whilst Becca had homeschooled many daughters indeed. Jim was the presbyterian minister I’d met the night before. Once Bruce and Becca found out what Jim did that was it. I found myself in the middle of a long and involved doctrinal discussion and before long Bruce was thanking God for our Amtrak lunch. I was respectfully silent when it came to the ‘Amens’. As it happened I was wearing a Genesis tee shirt. Becca’s curiosity got the better of her. Sorry Becca, in this instance Genesis is a rock band who take their name from the first book of the Bible. She took it well but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. Eating aside, I spent most of the day in the panorama car. The Great Plains are pretty much the same as the Canadian Prairies. A few small towns, including Glasgow Montana which I was determined to get a photo of, and a lot of flat, dull countryside. I had loved it on The Canadian, just losing myself in the whole big country and even bigger sky thing. Was it the same on this journey? Almost, but not quite. I did enjoy the big country aspect but the big sky was overcast and rainy at times. There was, perhaps, a bit more of humanity’s odd endeavours to see, even if it was only a field full of abandoned cars or a line of nodding donkeys. No different to Canada but more frequently encountered. It wasn’t all plains either, the North Dakota Badlandnds provided some relief (literally) to the landscape. There were a number of smoke stops which meant I can now say I’ve set foot in North Dakota and Montana. Despite the summer solstice being just a few days away, it was getting quite chilly outside, just 5C in Shelby Montana. As the afternoon turned to evening and I went for dinner, the Great Plains started to give way to the Rocky Mountains.

Pre-dawn near Fargo, the camera fails to reproduce the crimson red. However, it perfectly captures the excitement of Great Plains.
Nodding Donkeys and flare stacks.
North Dakota Badlands bring some relief to the views. Then it is back to the plains and, if you are lucky, some cows.
Glasgow, Montana. Just like the real Glasgow?
There were many fields full of abandoned cars and even one for abandoned motorhomes.

The Rockies are the scenic highlight of the trip. If you make the trip in winter, however, you aren’t going to see much of them due to lack of daylight. My trip was mid-June, close to the longest day which gave me an evening of Rocky action before the light finally faded. The views were good, though low cloud obscured some of the peaks. After a couple of hours we reached Whitefish, the final destination for a number of passengers and a smoke stop for the rest of us. When we commenced our journey the light had faded and the rest of the Rockies passed by unnoticed.

Rocky Mountains with low cloud eventually giving way to allow…
…a decent mountain photo.
Whitefish, MT, Glacier National Park. Light fading, no more Rockies for us.

I didn’t sleep particularly well and with gaining another hour overnight I was up and ready to go by 06:30. During the night we had stopped in Spokane where the train had split. One half, along with the panorama car, was going to Portland, Oregon with my half heading to Seattle. The dining car came with us which meant a decent breakfast whilst the fruit farms of eastern Washington State passed by. It was all rather pleasant. After breakfast, however, things started to drag. The train passed through the Cascade Mountains. This sounds scenic and they possibly are but deep in the valleys with tall trees lining the track views were fleeting at best. The route is by necessity meandering which limited speed to 25mph and with the panorama car on its way to Portland rather than Seattle I was pretty much restricted to the roomette for the rest of the journey. We eventually emerged from the Cascades and through more fruit farms before reaching the coast just beyond Everett. The track turned south and followed the Puget Sound into Seattle where the train would terminate. We were actually half an hour ahead of schedule which was a little bonus as by then I was ready for the rail part of the journey to end.

My one glimpse of the Cascade Mountains between the trees. There was some nice river action though.
Cherry trees and blueberry farm. Washington State loves its fruit.
Puget Sound and the end of the line, Seattle.

I would have to wait until the following morning to complete the journey though. Amtrak does operate to Vancouver but the train departs before the Empire Builder arrives and the afternoon service is by bus. I didn’t really fancy that so I had booked a night in Seattle and a seat on the FRS Clipper ferry direct to Victoria the following morning. I took a taxi to the Moore Hotel due to the fact I had no idea where it was thanks to my lack of internet access. There I was able to check in early which was a big bonus. The hotel had an air of faded glory but was perfectly fine for my needs. Importantly it had wifi and I managed to reconnect with the world. I also had an afternoon and evening to kill which I did do by wandering round the local area. It was a good area as it happens, with tourist hotspots like Pike Place Market and the aquarium just a few minutes away. It was a little less desirable in the evening as the hotel appeared to be just a block away from where the many homeless of the city gather but that is a problem in most major western cities. It was only a brief visit but overall I liked Seattle and will have to go again.

Seattle touristy bits.
Mount Rainier along with a cloud pretending to be Mount Rainier

It was an early start the following morning. I needed to be at Pier 69 by 07:00 to check in for the FRS Clipper to Victoria. It wasn’t too far a walk from the hotel, even with two heavy suitcases in tow, and I was there in good time. Victoria Clipper V is a twin hull high speed passenger only ferry. Whilst it can be used simply for ferrying folk between Seattle and Victoria the schedules are timed for those Americans who fancy a day trip or short break to the capital of British Columbia, hence the 08:00 departure. At check in I had to pay $20 for each suitcase which was on top of the fare. A single fare isn’t much less than a return which is another indication that they prefer day trippers. There are three classes on board, I took the basic one which was perfectly fine. The journey took three hours to travel the 72 miles between Seattle and Victoria. It was a good run in perfect weather, up the Puget Sound and across the Strait of Juan Da Fuca at a healthy 29 knots. Slowing to a snail’s pace we entered Victoria Harbour and moored at our berth just a short distance from the BC Parliament Building. It took a while to clear Canadian immigration but once through, Rebecca was there to meet me and with the bags deposited in the boot of her ageing VW Beetle, I considered that this was Journey’s End.

FRS Clipper (in Victoria a couple of days later)
Fast boat to Victoria, all the way from the Bahamas apparently.
Pulling into our Victoria Harbour berth, who is that waving at me?
Eleven days and nine hours after leaving my house, Journey’s End.

Conclusion

At the beginning of Part One of this two part blog I explained why I set out on this adventure. Was it possible to get from Troon to Victoria on the far side of Canada using surface transport. The answer is, of course, yes as I have shown. Is it a practical way of getting between the two? It is, but only if you have a lot of spare time on your hands and are prepared to spend a fair amount of amount of cash or if you are really, really keen to avoid flying. From start to finish the journey took eleven days and nine hours. That is a significant chunk out of anyone’s life. You could possibly shave half a day off that time with different connections at either end but that’s about it. I’ll detail the cost below but we are talking in the region of £3,300 for the ‘fare’. That could be significantly reduced if you take a coach seat on the train rather than sleeping accommodation or sleeping in a hostel rather than hotels but had they been the only options, I wouldn’t have gone as I’m not a masochist. Of course there was more than practicality to my trip. For me the journey is part of the travel experience and it was an experience I enjoyed. As mentioned in Part One the QM2 crossing was great to do once but as a ‘cruise’ it was a bit of a dead loss with five days out of sight of land. They treat you nicely and everything but it does get a bit, well, boring. That arrival into New York though… As for the train, again I enjoyed the journey but I was a bit disappointed with Amtrak. The Lake Shore Limited wasn’t great, despite my upgraded room. Shabby carriages and below average food means I won’t be taking that train again any time soon. The Empire Builder had much better rolling stock and the food was pretty good. On both trains the car stewards were great but otherwise the service wasn’t the best. I can’t help but compare the journey with my rail trip across Canada in 2022. That was an epic journey that I’d do again in a heartbeat. Just about every aspect of it was better than the Lake Shore Limited and Empire Builder including the scenery. I believe the California Zephyr is the Amtrak service to go on if you want to be wowed by the scenery so maybe I’ll put that on the to do list. I might be sounding a bit ungrateful here as I really did enjoy the journey. I met some interesting people, saw some things that I’ll never see again and have memories that will last a lifetime, or at least until the dementia sets in. Would I do it again? As I’m unlikely to develop a fear of flying it’s a big ‘no’.

Costings:

  • Train Barassie – Glasgow £5.00
  • Train Glasgow – Southampton £61.19
  • Hotel Premier Inn Southampton £103.00
  • Ship Southampton – New York £1388.00
  • Train New York – Seattle £1450.44 ($1836)
  • Hotel Moore Hotel Seattle £152.00
  • Ship Seattle – Victoria £89.86 ($113.75)
  • Checked Bags Seattle – Victoria £31.60 ($40)
  • Taxis New York and Seattle £27.65 ($35)
  • TOTAL £3308.74

Notes: Above costings in US Dollars are converted at a rate of £0.79 to the dollar. In addition I would add the following ‘essentials’, Internet on board the QM2 £81.90 (special offer) plus at least £80 towards drinks on board the ship. I was in a shared taxi in New York which probably saved me £40. You might want to tip your cabin steward on the trains so maybe add another £30. The Barassie-Glasgow train was bought on the day with a Scottish bus pass discount. Train from Glasgow to Southampton was booked on trainline using a ticket split. Both the QM2 and Amtrak fares were booked ten months in advance. Premier Inn was booked direct online a few months in advance. The Moore Hotel was reserved through Expedia. FRS Clipper was booked online several months ahead.

Slow Route To Victoria Pt 1

Troon to New York

Queen Mary 2

Back in the days of pandemicmania, the seed of an idea planted itself in my brain and began to grow. Would it be practical, or indeed possible at all, to visit my daughter Rebecca without the use of aircraft. Although she lived in Victoria, Canada, some 4500 miles of ocean and continent away, it didn’t take long to realise that it was entirely possible. As for practicality, that depended if you had a spare couple of weeks and could justify spending the money to pay for such a trip. I’m retired so I had the time. As for the money, well that was a different matter. Crossing the North American continent by train was not exactly cheap but getting across the Atlantic using the one remaining scheduled ocean liner crossing was prohibitively expensive. In the end I decided to take the shortest flight across the Atlantic I could, to Halifax Nova Scotia, and then get a train, or three trains to be precise, from the Atlantic to the Pacific and then a ferry to finish the job. I completed the trip in the August of 2022 and loved every minute of it. You can read all about it here: Atlantic to Pacific By Rail. Get yourself a cup of tea first, it does go on a bit. Or just read this blog but get a cup of tea anyway.

Fast forward to the summer of 2023. Elaine mentioned to me that she didn’t want to go away on a long-haul trip the following summer so if I wanted to do one of my solo adventures, that would be a good time to go. I revisited the idea of getting to Victoria by surface transport and nervously opened the Cunard website to see if there were any deals going for a transatlantic crossing on the Queen Mary 2. I was pleasantly surprised. Solo occupancy cabins for a six night crossing in June 2024 was much less than the prices I had been quoted two years previously and the fare includes not only the passage but also six days of food (but not drink), entertainment, someone making your bed each day, an iconic arrival into New York and the opportunity to pretend you are important. The latter point seems to be the clincher for some people. I thought it was decent value even if it did mean an inside cabin on Deck 6 right at the very front of the ship. I booked it. How would I then get from New York to Victoria? I could have got a train to Toronto and taken The Canadian train again and believe me, I was sorely tempted, but in an attempt to experience something a bit different and also save a day’s travel, I headed to the Amtrak website to plot a route across the USA. It wasn’t a difficult decision. On the day of arrival into New York there was an overnight train to Chicago where another train would take me to Seattle over the course of two more nights. I booked myself in a roomette. I could have saved money by travelling on a regular seat in coach class but there are limits to my thriftiness. There was just the small matter of getting to Southampton from home and then to Victoria from Seattle but there are trains and ferries that can be used to ensure the surface transport rule is honoured so all I had to do was wait ten months for the journey to begin.

The Journey Begins. First stop, the glamorous Premier Inn in Southampton.

The journey commenced on June 8 when I was given a lift to Barassie Station by Elaine. I had two well packed suitcases, one with my stuff and another which was in effect a Red Cross Parcel for those imprisoned by the high price of things in Canada. We said our goodbyes and I got on the 10:48 to Glasgow Central, a busy train on which I somehow managed to sling the bags on the overhead rack. At Glasgow I lugged them across the concourse (via Boots where I purchased the required Meal Deal) for the next leg. That was the Avanti West Coast 11:56 departure to London. It was one of the services that routes via Birmingham so there were plenty of stops before I reached Birmingham International Station. There was a forty minute wait before a very busy Cross Country train turned up which would deliver me to Southampton. All trains ran on time and I arrived just before 8pm. I had booked the City Centre Premier Inn for the night and decided it wasn’t far enough away to warrant a taxi, and with my two heavy suitcases in tow, walked the three quarters of a mile to said establishment and checked in. Had the ship been departing any other day than a Sunday I would have utilised the Caledonian Sleeper overnight down to London and a train from there to Southampton in the morning but the Sleeper does not run on a Saturday night. There was an overnight Megabus coach from Glasgow to Southampton but I’m not mad enough to even consider that option so travelling down the day before and a night in the Premier Inn was the best plan. After a decent night’s rest I was very happy I had done it that way. I had been allocated a check-in time of 3pm by Cunard so had a few hours to kill. I had a wander round the city and took the opportunity to work out how to get to the Mayflower Terminal at Southampton docks. It was a mile and a half away from the hotel so I went for the walking option rather than pay an inflated taxi fare. This proved to be another good decision. I headed past the station where many taxis were waiting to transport those arriving on the day to the QM2 and three other different cruise ships that were scheduled for departure that afternoon. I walked down the entrance road to the docks, turned right and there she was, the Queen Mary 2. Walking had given me my first view of the magnificent looking ship that would be my home for the next six nights. Yes, I would have seen it from the taxi but by walking I had another ten minutes to admire her classy lines from a distance, something you can’t quite do whilst on board. I was the only person walking and it was a privilege to do so.

Walking to the ship was worth the effort just for this view.
With her name written large, I approach my home for the next six nights.

At the Mayflower Terminal I deposited my bags on a conveyor belt and hoped I’d see them again soon. I then joined the massive check-in queue. It was 2-30pm, half an hour before my allocated check-in time. By the time I reached the front of the queue it was 3-30pm. An hour in the queue was perhaps a bit longer than I would have liked but once it was my turn to check-in, it took approximately 30 seconds. There was a further airport style security check which only took a few minutes and I was ready to follow the ‘To The Ship’ signs. A walk up the covered gangplank led me through the door on Deck 2 into the atrium. I was welcomed on board and shown to the lift, then left to find my cabin on Deck 6. It wasn’t difficult but I can see how some folk may have found this a bit overwhelming. Whilst I hadn’t expected to be walked to my room I did feel the whole boarding process could have been a bit better. Anyway, when I found my cabin, which I will now refer to as my stateroom, the two suitcases were already sitting outside and an envelope with my keycard was sat in a little letter rack thingy. I opened the door and stepped in.

It was a long queue but eventually it was ‘To the ship’ and with, minimal fuss or fanfare I was onboard.

I’ll pause the travelogue here to talk about the Queen Mary 2. Built in Saint-Nazaire, France, she was launched on 21 March 2003, christened on 8 January 2004 and commenced her maiden voyage four days later. Her construction was marred by an accident on 15 November 2003 when a gangway collapsed during an event where shipyard workers and their families had been invited to inspect the ship. Sixteen people died and thirty-two injured after falling 15 metres into the dry dock. She is designed as specifically for the Transatlantic Crossing and as such is the only operational ocean liner in the world. All other cruise ships are just that – cruise ships. QM2 is sleeker, faster and cuts through the waves much better than even the largest cruise vessel. When she entered service she was the largest passenger ship ever built. With the advent of the super cruise ship over the past twenty years she isn’t even in the top forty any more but still clocks in with a gross tonnage of nearly 150,000, more than double that of the Queen Elizabeth 2, the ship she replaced. (Gross tonnage is a measure of internal volume, not weight) The external appearance is in keeping with the Cunard Line heritage and, as I mentioned above, she looks stunning. The heritage themes continue on the inside. The decor, whilst not always to my taste, is in keeping with the golden age of transatlantic travel and much is made of the history of Cunard and those who have sailed with the line in the past. She was refurbished in 2016 and has been kept in good order since then. Amongst the public areas are numerous restaurants and bars, a theatre, cinema/planetarium, ballroom, nightclub, library, shops, casino, gym, spa and, for use on Transatlantic services only, kennels. There is a covered pool and another two on deck at the rear of the ship. The promenade deck wraps round Deck 7, three laps equals 1.1 miles. There are open decks at the top of the ship and over several decks at the rear. Power comes from four diesel engines with two supplementary gas turbines. These generate electricity to power the ship and drive the four propulsion pods. Top speed is 30 knots and she generally cruises at 24 knots. Whilst there are many larger and newer passenger carrying ships now, I don’t think any of them are as impressive as the Queen Mary 2.

Promenade Deck including spare propellers, three laps to the mile.
Pool on a bright day and whirlpool on a foggy day.
Kennels, complete with fire hydrant for American dogs and lamp post for British dogs.
Sundecks. An exclusive one for the Grills Class passengers and another for folk who like to sunbathe in anoraks.

Back to the travelogue. Having watched the lifeboat drill on the cabin TV and checked in at the appropriate muster station, a compulsory feature of all cruises, I headed up to the top deck of the ship, known as The Lookout, to observe the sail away. There was no brass band to play us off or fireworks, this was just a run of the mill departure as far as Southampton was concerned. With several blasts of ship’s impressive whistle – more a hooter than a whistle – we slowly moved away from the dock and set sail down the Solent. Three other cruise ships were in port. QM2 towered above Seven Seas Splendour and P&O Arcadia but was dwarfed by Arcadia’s new sister ship, Arvia. We could hear the passengers on Arcadia being encouraged by the onboard DJ to make some noise to show us on the QM2 how to have fun. I think, perhaps, that DJ had the wrong idea of what the average Cunard customer would consider fun. Once out of the Solent we passed to the east of the Isle of Wight before turning west and that was the last land I would see for five days. That is quite a long time with noting to see but the sea. I’d occasionally look out at endless ocean and lose myself in the vastness of it all but the awe only lasted for so long and I had to find other stuff to do. This leads us to life on board a transatlantic liner.

Sailaway. Small ship, small ship, big ship. Seven Seas Splendour, P&O Arcadia and the massive P&O Arvia. Not as good looking as the QM2 though.

The Queen Mary 2 is a big piece of kit. It took a while to get used to everything it had to offer and I was still finding nooks and crannies that I had missed right up until the end of the journey. First thing to discover was my stateroom, number 6003. This was the most basic type of accommodation for the fare paying passengers, an inside cabin. Basic is a relative term, however, it was perfectly well appointed. It had a comfortable double bed, a desk and chair, two USA and two UK plug sockets, a TV, a not particularly efficient fridge, plenty wardrobe space containing a safe and slippers but no bathrobe, and an en suite containing a vacuum lavatory, sink and shower. The room was attended to twice a day by Alan, the cabin steward, a Filipino chap who knew my name before we introduced ourselves to each other. I was more than happy with the cabin and the service. I could have paid more for higher standard stateroom, either at the time of booking or by bidding for an upgrade in the run up to the voyage. I’m glad I didn’t. There were times when I thought a bit of natural light would have been nice but not a couple of hundred pounds worth of nice for the stateroom across the corridor which had a window. A balcony stateroom would have given me a balcony on which I could watch the unchanging scenery go past but at an extra £800 I’d have spent much of the cruise trying and failing to justify the extra expense. Those are just the normal staterooms. For the full luxury Cunard experience you could spend several thousand pounds more for a Princess Grill or Queen’s Grill Suit. They look really nice in the pictures and you even get to use exclusive restaurants (Princess Grill and Queen’s Grill, hence the name) and lounges that we cheapskates were barred from. 85% of the passengers are cheapskates, however, and they occupied the range of ‘normal’ staterooms and most of them would have got much the same as I had, with or without the benefit of a window or balcony. And maybe a bathrobe. I should have asked Alan for one.

Inside Stateroom 6003.
En suite shower.

As mentioned above, in addition to passage and accommodation, your fare includes all the food and most of the entertainment on board. Whilst you could make the crossing without spending an extra penny, it is more likely that you will incur a few expenses along the way. The currency on the ship is the US Dollar which rather goes against the traditional British style that the Cunard try to recreate. Not that you see any actual greenbacks as the ship is cashless. You lodge a credit card either before the cruise or at the purser’s desk soon after departure and your stateroom keycard becomes your payment card for everything on board. The fare I had chosen included $125 cabin credit which was handy though it didn’t last long. During the fist night $96 was debited from that total for the gratuities for the hotel services staff at $16 per day. This was a surprise to a number of folk I spoke to although it was quite clear in the Cunard literature. It was odd though as we’d only had one night’s worth of service thus far and the whole idea of gratuities is a bit alien to we Brits anyway. You could get the purser to remove the charge from your account and choose to tip, or indeed not tip, in the old fashioned way at the end of the cruise. I just left it and hoped that Alan would get his fair share. In the end I charged $300 to my stateroom account which meant $175 was charged to my credit card at the end of the voyage. Much of that was for drink. Whilst you could get tea and coffee for free in the buffet and maybe fruit juices too, all other drinks had to be paid for. The prices were not extortionate but they mount up. Also, 15% is added to all those prices as a gratuity to the bar staff. Like most cruise lines, drinks packages are available to purchase in advance, or even on the ship. The full package was a whopping $75 per day. This meant you could drink all bar the top end wines and spirits. By my calculations you would need to knock back eleven alcoholic drink a day to make it worthwhile. I know some folk who could get more than their money’s worth from that but not me. I decided to take the pay-as-you-go option along with a bit of smuggling. The contraband was sixteen cans of Diet Coke that I had purchased in Southampton on the morning of the departure. I had managed to stuff them into the suitcases and they were still in them when I was reunited with the cases on board. Whilst I felt I was doing something slightly clandestine, there isn’t any rule against taking soft drink on board although there are limits on alcoholic drinks. I drink a lot of Diet Coke and a bottle of the stuff on board was nearly $5 with the gratuity. I drank all of them over the six days saving my stateroom account $90 at the initial outlay of £9. Sorry to mix up the currencies there but it’s clear my smuggling activities saved me a few dollars/quid. A man can’t live by Coke alone, however, so a few vodkas, in to which some of the smuggled Coke was poured, and beers into which it wasn’t, were bought and consumed as I went.

$90 worth of Smuggled Coke

A big part of this and indeed all cruises is the food. You are not going to go hungry on your transatlantic voyage. The main dining room is the Britannia Restaurant, an impressive space over three decks. It is where the 85% of passengers not travelling Grills Class can formally dine for breakfast, lunch and dinner. For dinner you can choose a particular sitting or do what I did and opt for open dining. I never had any wait to be shown to a table. You are asked if you would be prepared to share, I always said I was. Even if you prefer to eat alone it will be on a table that is just a couple of inches from the next so it is likely you will end up chatting to other cruisers anyway. The food was good. Not amazing or extraordinary but a good choice of quality dishes. The service staff were smart and attentive. My only gripe would be the food sometimes took a while to arrive and when it did it could have been a bit hotter but my overall experience of the Britannia Restaurant was positive. It isn’t the only option when it comes to dining. The King’s Court is a large buffet style restaurant that is open all day and possibly through the night too, I never checked. It was extremely popular, especially for breakfast and lunch. There was a wide selection of dishes to choose from and the quality was good but I could never shake off the idea that it was more of a canteen than a restaurant. I used it often, sometimes through necessity as the Britannia Restaurant was off limits to me on Gala Nights. Part of the Kings Court was reserved for speciality dining. I visited one night when it was turned into Coriander, an Indian restaurant. This cost an extra $20 but was worth it as it was the best meal I had on the ship. Another optional extra was the Verandah, an a la carte steakhouse. This could be anything up to a $50 supplement. I had booked in advance for a lunch there one day for $20 but when it came to it I really didn’t fancy a steak lunch and cancelled the reservation. The money was refunded and I never got to sample Verandah. All I can say is that I heard good reports about it. A big thing was made of Afternoon Tea, served every day in the Queen’s Room. This is the ship’s ballroom, transformed into a large dining room every afternoon. Finger sandwiches, scones and cakes are served along with a choice of teas or, if you don’t drink tea, they’ll bring you a fruit juice. Champagne is served too but you have to pay for that. A pianist or a classical string trio plays and it is all very civilised. I was never very hungry at 4pm but I visited it just the once purely so I could report back. Naturally I had to sample everything on offer (apart from the tea) and after the fourth or fifth cake decided that everything was very nice and I could maybe give dinner a miss that evening. The scones with jam and clotted cream were sublime. I later discovered that you could do a DIY Afternoon Tea in the King’s Court which was handy as I had missed out on the mini treacle tart in the Queen’s Room only to find some sitting in the buffet the following day begging me to eat one of them. I did. It was lovely.

Britannia Restaurant. It is much bigger than it appears here.
Typical Britannia Restaurant offering.
Kings Court with typical fare.
Afternoon Tea. All the treacle tarts had gone by this stage.
Coriander. Very good Indian food, well worth the supplement.

Those were the main dining options but there were others. The ‘British Style Pub’, the Golden Lion, served some pub grub classics at lunch time. I tried the fish and chips one day which was not a bad effort. Some of the bars would have sandwiches and nibbles and there was a place up on deck, the Boardwalk Cafe, that would serve food to the sun worshippers had there been any. I think it remained closed for the entire voyage. If none of these options appealed to you there was always room service at no extra cost. I’d have personally gone a bit bonkers had I remained in my stateroom to eat but judging by all the trays with half-eaten plates of food that lay in the corridors at any time of the day, this option appeared to be a popular one. The main bar/lounge was the Carinthia Lounge on Deck 7. This seemed popular and would host quizzes and other events throughout the day. On one afternoon there was a performance of Twelfth Night in there, not perhaps the best place for it as the layout of the place meant I could hardly see any of it. My favourite bars were the Golden Lion as mentioned above and the Commodore Club at the front of the ship on Deck 9. It had good views over the pointy end, not that there was anything to view other than sea of course. There was a cigar room, Churchills, next to it if you happen to enjoy puffing on a smouldering dog turd. Off the top of my head the other bars were The Chart Room, Champagne Bar, Terrace Bar and Pavilion Pool Bar but there may be one or two others tucked away that I missed. The good news for those of us smuggling Diet Coke on board is that the bar staff will happily, or maybe even begrudgingly, will bring you a glass with ice.

Golden Lion Pub. Fish and Chip lunch, Yorkshire Pride and Scotland losing.
Carinthia Lounge, complete with a performance of Twelfth Night somewhere, Chart Room bar and Commodore Lounge.

Whilst food and drink take up a large part of any cruise, there are is still a lot of time to fill with other activities. With watching the scenery pass by not one of them, Cunard have a whole load of stuff to do throughout the day and into the night. Every day a list of the following day’s activities is included so you can plan your day. I should have saved a copy to show you an example but neglected to do so. The picture below was from cruise last year which I discovered on the internet and used without permission as, frankly, I doubt they’d got permission from Cunard to use it in the first place. It is absolutely typical of what to expect but not precisely the same what I had to choose from.

It looks a full programme but there were times when I was struggling to find something to do. Maybe I’m a bit too choosy. However, the Cunard Insights lectures, which were on different topics to those in the picture, kept me going. There were four different lecturers on my cruise. I passed on the American Politics and Art History/Architecture ones but attended those by Steve King and Captain Chris Rigby. Steve was a lovely chap, who I’d met the first evening at dinner. He had a lifetime of working in radio behind him and his talks were mainly about 60s music. Not really my thing but interesting enough to pass an hour each day. Captain Rigby’s topic was aviation. He was a former pilot with BA, Britannia, Ryanair and possibly another couple of airlines. His lectures were about aviation so I obviously had to go to them. Most of them were aimed at an audience less, well, avgeeky than me so I didn’t really learn much. One was specifically about his thoughts as to the disappearance of flight MH370 which seemed a little bit conspiracy theory to me but as he freely admitted, we will never know until they find the thing and that might never happen. The lectures took place in Illuminations, the ship’s cinema and planetarium. I’d been hoping for some sort of planetarium display but for some reason there wasn’t one on my crossing. The seats were cozy though and I admit to nodding off during a couple of the talks. There was also a Q&A session with both speakers that took place in G32, the ship’s nightclub. Not, in case you were wondering, at the same time that the DJ was spinning the decks or whatever it is that DJs do.

Insights lectures: Captain Chris Rigby
Insights lectures: Steve King

I went to most performances in the Royal Court Theatre. Two were song and dance extravaganzas by the ship’s on board entertainment staff. Others were visiting acts such as Piano Showman Chris Hamilton, comedian and impressionist Foggie Flax and tenor Shimi Goodman. Despite his name Foggie Flax was actually quite funny and the two musicians were talented. All the shows were 45 minutes long and were performed twice each night. I enjoyed them but was happy they weren’t any longer. There was plenty of music performed throughout the ship in bars and public areas and I even went to a classical guitar recital in the theatre one afternoon which was mercifully short. The guitarist was good but one classical Spanish guitar piece sounds much like another to me. The only other ‘organised’ entertainment I attended was the pub quiz in the Golden Lion. Forming a team of one named Norman No Mates, I entered three of them and came second in two. Pleasing yet frustrating at the same time.

Royal Court Theatre. Photos of the performances are not allowed. I sneaked one of the curtain call one night.
Quiz Night on Masquerade Gala Night. I didn’t get this one right.

For the rest of the time I was either walking around Deck 7 which got rather tedious after the third lap, sat in a bar or on one occasions sat on a sunbed by the covered Pavilion Pool. It wasn’t for long as it was a bit chilly. Some folk sat outside if they could find a sheltered spot and it wan’t too foggy but it didn’t look much fun to me. I did spend some time in the spa one day. This cost me $59 but I figured it was worth it. The hydrotherapy pool and jacuzzi were very nice and there was a suitably hot sauna, a warm herbal sauna and a broken steam room. I enjoyed it. This and the $25 tee shirt I bought in one of the shops was the only thing to be charged to my onboard account other than the drinks and service charge. You can also visit a well equipped gym if you wish or if you fancy something a little less energetic there is a large library on the deck above it. The ship has WiFi featuring internet from the Starlink satellites. Access to just the WiFi is free and is useful for visiting the Cunard pages where you can find things like the daily programme, make reservations and keep an eye on your stateroom account. Full internet access needs to be paid for and isn’t cheap but I bought a whole voyage pass several months earlier when Cunard had a sale on. It cost $108. It was money well spent as I would realise later on the train part of this journey when I inadvertently went ‘off grid’. The WiFi signal was nearly always good with just the occasional period with slow download speeds. I may have struggled to avoid boredom had I had no internet access. I don’t mind being a solo traveller but I do like to remain in contact with friends, family and above all Elaine. A word about dress code. Most of the time it is pretty relaxed. They do say that smart casual is required in the evenings with long trousers and a collared shirt for the chaps. On Gala Nights, however, dinner jackets with ties or bow ties are ‘compulsory’ in most areas on the ship. I didn’t take a tuxedo or indeed a tie. That meant dining in the Kings Court and being restricted to a couple of bars. I didn’t mind. In fact I felt a bit rebellious by not conforming to the Gala Night dress codes.

Spa. Worth the extra just for the feet shots.
Promenade Deck walks. I had to get a lifebelt shot and one of the wake.

That is how I passed my time on board. The ship followed the great circle route to New York at a steady 24 knots. I barely felt any motion, even in my cabin at the front of the ship. Most crossings last seven nights but some, including this one, take six. With the time zone changes the clock was put back an hour on five of the six nights. If nothing else, crossing the Atlantic on a ship is a great way to beat the jet lag of a transatlantic flight. Our arrival into New York was scheduled for 07:00 Eastern Time. Unfortunately a couple of incidents on the way led to us arriving four hours late. On the first night of the cruise I was awaken from my slumbers at 01:30 by the dulcet tones of the captain. I thought hello, this is a bit over friendly but he hadn’t entered my stateroom of course, he was making an announcement on the ship’s public address. A passenger was ill and required a helicopter evacuation to Plymouth. For safety reasons we needed to be told this even though nearly everyone would have slept through the incident. A course adjustment was made to rendezvous with the coast guard helicopter and the poor sod was whisked off the ship and hopefully make a recovery from whatever malady he was suffering from. Some folk reckoned they’d seen his distressed wife prior to the evacuation. We were left wondering if she had been winched onto the helicopter with her husband or if she had to remain on board for the rest of the trip. The delay this caused wasn’t much. However, on the morning of the fourth day we received another PA from the captain. During the night the ship had broken down. It was an interruption with the electric supply apparently and as the propellers are turned using electrical energy it was quite important to get it fixed. He mentioned that we had stopped overnight to fix the problem but a look at the live map display suggested we had sailed a racetrack pattern, hopefully under some sort of control. Anyway, he said the problem was fixed and we were on our way again. We would, however, not make it to New York by 7am. Eventually they secured an 11am berth at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal and kept their fingers crossed that the problem would not resurface. It didn’t.

Spot the position where the ship broke down.

This delay would prove to be a pain to those with connecting flights, trains or buses. My connection should have been fine as I wasn’t due to leave New York until 15:30 although it did cut things a bit fine. The advantage, however, was that I didn’t have to get up at four in the morning to witness the highlight of the cruise – the arrival into New York. It was a lovely morning. Even the relative 40kt wind could not stop me from grabbing a position on The Lookout deck to witness the arrival. The southern shore of Long Island was already in view and soon we were passing beneath one of the flight paths into JFK Airport. Abeam Brighton Beach we began our turn to the north towards the Verrazzano Narrows, spanned by the mighty Verrazzano-Narrows suspension Bridge. The iconic Manhattan skyline hove into view beyond it. The QM2 passed beneath this bridge with just four metres to spare, in fact the reason the ship’s funnel is shaped the way it is to ensure this absolute minimum clearance under the Verrazzano Narrows bridge. It certainly looked close from The Lookout deck, a few metres lower than the top of the funnel. Once through, Manhattan was clearly visible along with all the traffic in Upper Bay. Having slowed down to a crawl it still took another two hours to reach the dock. The Statue of Liberty appeared in the distance to welcome us and slowly grew, remaining off to the left as we turned towards the Brooklyn Terminal. Eventually we turned through 180 degrees and edged to the dock. By 11:00 we were, as my mate John would say, all fast, F&A, FWE. I really need to ask him what that actually means. I guessing it means ‘parked’. It wasn’t quite the end of the cruise though. Disembarkation is by the colour of the tags they gave you to put on your bags the previous day. It wasn’t until 12:40 that my group was called and then followed quite a long wait to get through immigration in the large shed that is the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal. Once through that I joined a taxi queue which seemed to go on for ever, got into a discussion with the couple behind me – the chap was the ship’s bridge (cards, not the place where they drive the ship from) instructor – and we agreed to share the price of an Uber to the Moynahan Train Hall in the centre of the city. I arrived just over an hour before my train was due to depart. I wouldn’t say I was worried but I was concerned that I might be getting concerned.

Land ahoy!
Verrazzano Narrows Bridge. Will we fit underneath? Nobbut just.
Video from The Lookout
Approaching Manhattan and what is that behind the Staten Island Ferry?
Lady Liberty gives us a wave.
The Red Ensign flies proudly against the backdrop of Manhattan. Voyage complete.

So to summarise this part of the journey. Is taking the Queen Mary 2 a practical way of reaching the New World? Yes, it absolutely is. Is it a convenient way of doing so? Absolutely not, at least as far as I’m concerned. You’ve got to put aside a week or so of your life to make the crossing as opposed to seven or eight hours by plane. There is the advantage of gradually getting used to the time zone changes and of course if you are afraid of flying it is the only way to cross the pond but most people don’t do it for practical reasons. They do it because it is an event. The crossing is part of their holiday and in some cases all of their holiday. I spoke to people who were getting the first flight back to Blighty, hopefully they disembarked the ship in time. Is the experience worth it? I can only speak for myself when I say yes it is, but only the once. I enjoyed the experience but have no desire to repeat it. As a cruise holiday it is a bit of a dead loss – one of the things about cruise holidays is visiting different ports. Five days of endless ocean is a bit, well, boring. Sure, the ships activities are many and varied but I was definitely getting a bit of cabin fever by the end of the journey. What about Cunard? I thought they were good and are probably worth thinking about if you fancy a cruising holiday. They pay homage to the golden age of ocean liners and all the things you expect are up to scratch. The different class system might put you off but it wasn’t really a factor to me. My suggestion is yes, go with Cunard but unless you really need to be in New York, choose a ‘normal’ cruise to Norway or something that looks a bit nicer than endless ocean. All four Cunard ships do normal cruises but only one of them, the Queen Mary 2 also does the regular transatlantic crossing.

Part Two of this journey to follow. It took half the time so you will be glad to hear shouldn’t be as long. I will reveal the cost of the entire enterprise at the end.