River Cruise

The Spirit of the Rhine. It’s long, narrow and low. It’s also hard to get a full photo of it.

It had to happen sometime. I’ve been retired for five and a half years now and I finally got round to taking that holiday favoured by retired folk, the river cruise. I’m surprised it took so long to be honest. It should, in fact, have happened two years ago. We were emerging from the covid pandemic when I caught it for the first time. Luckily for me it was something and nothing but for the people at Saga, the holiday company for those in the Autumn of their lives, it was a serious case of stay away from their boat. The holiday was cancelled four days before we were due to go. Having taken an ocean cruise with Saga last year, it was time to try again for the not so choppy waters of the Rhine this year. A cruise at the end of March was selected and we all managed to avoid catching transmissible diseases in the run up to the cruise, though by now we could have possibly boarded with ebola and no one would have been bothered. (I’m lying. If you catch ebola don’t go on a river cruise.) By ‘we’ I mean my sister Jill, mother and me. If you have read, or indeed choose to read my previous blog SAGA you will see how this threesome of travelling companions has come about and also my thoughts on Saga themselves. It’s a jolly witty read if I may say so myself! I may as well say so myself, nobody else will.

When it comes to river cruising, the choices are limited. There’s a finite number of navigable waterways in the world. ‘Normal’ cruising takes place on seas and oceans and there’s a ton of them to choose from and whilst cruise ships do tend to get concentrated in certain areas, the choice of itineraries is much greater than on rivers. In Europe you can go river cruising on the Danube, The Douro in Portugal, the waterways of the Netherlands and maybe somewhere in France at a push. The biggie, however, is the Rhine. Actually, the Danube is longer and a similarly important river cruise waterway but the Rhine gets my vote as the most important. Defining what is and isn’t the Rhine is tricky at either end of said waterway but the bit we are interested in runs from Lake Constance to the Hook of Holland and is measured in Rhine Kilometres, a unit of length that matches a normal kilometre except in one case which we will see later on. There’s 1032 of those but the first couple of hundred are not navigable. The rest, from Basel onwards, is fair game for river cruises and a surprisingly large number of commercial cargo vessels. The cruise we chose was called ‘Rhine in the Springtime’ and of the three or four departure dates available, we chose the first one of the year for the very sound reason that it was quite a bit cheaper than the others. ‘Cheap’ is a relative term. River cruises are not known to be at the budget end of the holidaying spectrum. What’s more, single occupancy of a cabin will cost you a hefty surcharge so a saving of a thousand pounds or so by taking a cruise so early it only just qualified for the ‘Springtime’ bit is not to be sniffed at.

As with the ocean cruise, Saga look after you. Included in the price is insurance and transfer to whatever port of exit you decide to use. For most folk on this cruise this was St Pancras Station where the Eurostar train would whisk them off to Brussels where a bus would pick them up and take them to the boat which was moored in Dusseldorf. We, however, took the flying option. This required us to be at Heathrow Airport for a 12:55 departure so we asked Saga’s UK travel service to take us down the day before. We booked an airport Premier Inn for the night allowing us a more leisurely short ride to the airport the following morning. We spoke to others who had been picked up at three in the morning for the flight or the train so felt the extra expense of the hotel for the night was more than worth it. The flight went directly to Dusseldorf from where we were met and sent on a short bus ride to the boat. We were welcomed on board and shown to our cabins.

Our home for the next eight nights was The Spirit of the Rhine. This was one of two river cruising boats built specifically for Saga back in 2020/1 (bad timing there), the other being The Spirit of the Danube. They promised a big upgrade in the standard of vessel Saga had been using up to then and both my mum and sister, who had been on the older boats, stated that Spirit of the Rhine delivered that promise. As for me, I had nothing to compare it with but find it hard to believe the Spirit of the Rhine could be bettered. It can carry up to 182 passengers – there were approximately 160 on our cruise – with a crew of around 40. Typical of Rhine cruisers, it is 135 metres long by 11.4 meters wide. There are 91 cabins over three decks. 20 are on the Lower Deck. Being near the water line, these have thin, fixed windows and are 14 sq metres. Nicely appointed but a little tight. On the Middle and Upper Decks the rooms are 17 sq metres and have large French balconies. A French balcony is basically a French door with a fence across it to stop you from falling into the Rhine. Other river cruiser boats manage to squeeze an actual balcony in their cabins but they are tiny and I think the French balcony is better by having that space behind the doors. Whatever, these cabins are a fair bit more expensive than the Lower Deck ones, with the Upper Deck costing slightly more than the Middle Deck, but I think they are worth the extra expense. The Lower Deck cabins might feel a bit claustrophobic after a while. I was on the Middle Deck, my mum and sister were on the Upper Deck. We were each in a designated single cabins but from what I could see they were exactly the same as the other cabins on the Middle and Upper Decks, just with one less chocolate on the bed in the evening. There is a reception amidships with the Lorelei Lounge ahead and the main restaurant on the deck below. There is a small, speciality restaurant at the stern on the Upper Deck and they’ve squeezed a small gym – two treadmills and two exercise bikes – on the lower deck. On top there is the sun deck which extends almost the full length of the boat, interrupted only by the wheelhouse which is mounted on hydraulic jacks so it can be lowered to fit under the lowest of bridges. There’s plenty of chairs and loungers and also a small splash pool if you fancy watching the German countryside going by whilst sat in warm water. That’s about it for the public areas. It might not sound a lot but there’s plenty of space for all on board. It’s not a cruise ship though, places to go are limited and theres no casino, beauty salons, bars other than the main one or theatre like on a Saga ship and certainly no surfing simulators, water slides and go-kart tracks like on the mega cruise ships. There’s a large chess board on the sun deck though…

Room 209, where the magic happens. On a Saga holiday, that means a decent night’s sleep.

We didn’t move from our mooring until the following morning. Such is the way with some itineraries. It was perhaps just as well as some of the passengers arriving by train had picked up a delay and didn’t get in until late that evening. The rest of us got to sample the catering for the first time. Dinner was served at 7pm. You could have gone in a bit later but with most of the passengers being Brits we all tended to file in at that time in an orderly fashion. There were tables of six and four and it was a case of taking whatever available table you fancied. Sometimes we’d share a table of six, others we got a table of four to ourselves. The menu was four courses, starter (choice of two), soup (two), main (three) and dessert (two, plus a cheese option). The food was almost without exception excellent. There was always some simple items available in addition to the mains – grilled chicken, a small steak or salmon – for those with a more delicate palate. Or, indeed, if you just fancied something relatively plain for a change. Wine, beer and soft drinks were available, all served by the very attentive staff. Portion sizes were just right, not too big, not too small. As an alternative to the main restaurant, the small Rhinefells restaurant at the rear of the ship could be booked for evening dinner. We did this on the second night. It was nice but the food was not really any different to the main restaurant. It was a more intimate atmosphere and you could observe the chefs preparing your dinner but the menu appeared to stay the same throughout the cruise so we felt there was no need to try and book it for another night. All the food on board was included in the price of course. Breakfast was a buffet with a large array of items to choose from. An egg chef prepared fried eggs and omelettes to order otherwise you just got your own stuff and tucked in. We Brits love a buffet breakfast so no one was complaining though we thought the sausages weren’t particularly great. Lunch was also a buffet with some extra items delivered by the waiting staff directly from the kitchen on request. Once again it was good stuff and allowed you to have as big or as small a lunch as you wanted. A lighter version was served in the Rhinefells restaurant. In the afternoon sandwiches and cakes were available in the Lorelei Lounge and on one afternoon afternoon tea was served in there. Drinks were also included, both with meals and in the Lorelei Lounge all day. The selection of included drinks was more limited than on a sea cruise but still perfectly adequate and we didn’t spend an extra penny whilst on board, though there were plenty premium brands available at extra cost.

Starter. It’s a bread stick before you ask.

The house beer. Aptly German and very nice.

Life on board the boat tended to take place in the Lorelei Lounge. Some time was spent on the sun deck, especially for the scenic parts of the cruise, but a March date was never going to see a battle for the sun beds. The lounge was a pleasant space where, as already mentioned, drinks were available from 9am to midnight and nibbles were served in the afternoon. It was the place where the cruise director would give us the appropriate information for our ports of call, the Captain introduced his staff and Michael, the resident entertainer, would, well, entertain us. He’d run quizzes, compare a few games, play a bit of piano lounge music, encourage us to hit the dance floor, tell the odd joke and also sing. He did a pretty good job at keeping most of the passengers entertained and didn’t massacre the songs from the musicals which was good. If you are used to ocean cruising, you might think the entertainment was a bit on the sparse side but for the size of ship you couldn’t really expect anything else. On a couple of evenings visiting musicians serenaded us. One was a trio from the Moselle region who performed typical German drinking songs which, like the drink, went down rather well. The other was a couple of chaps from Alsace who were supposed to perform some folk music from that region but we figured they were just giving us a few light tunes which went on a bit too long. Whatever, there was always something in the evening to help pass the time.

Resident entertainer Michael. He’s from Yorkshire you know.

River cruises are, of course, much more than killing time on the boat. Our itinerary had us visiting seven different places though we didn’t see much of Dusseldorf where we boarded. On the itinerary was Cologne, Koblenz, Rudesheim and Speyer where we then turned about and headed north, visiting Bingen and Nijmegen before we arrived in Amsterdam where we spent a full 24 hours before the cruise ended and we came home. ‘Scenic’ cruising only happened on a couple of afternoons. Between Koblenz and Rudesheim lies the Middle Rhine Gorge, all romantic castles, near vertical vineyards and picture postcard towns. Plus, with tracks on either bank, quite a lot of trains. Having cruised this section, passing the Lorelei (or Loreley) Rock on the way south, we cruised it again in the other direction which was not a bad thing. We were lucky with the weather both times. Much of the other time we were moving was in the dark and the for bits that did take place during the day, the scenery tended to be interesting rather than pretty. The Rhine has attracted a lot of industry over the years and it there’s no way of avoiding it. Passing the Bayer Pharmaceutical plant in Leverkusen isn’t going to be high on anyone’s list of ‘must see’ sights but at least we can say we’ve seen the birthplace of Asprin. The river is marked on both banks every 100m. The Kilometres are shown as a number, zero is somewhere in Switzerland, 1032 next to the North Sea. A ‘+’ sign is placed at the half KM with poles placed every 100m. The 529 and 530km indicators are, however, only 580m apart due to a surveyor’s cock up. I got as much pleasure out of seeing that anomaly as I did from seeing the Loreley rock.

KM 530, just 80m from the ‘+’ which indicates km 529.5

The stops were all interesting with the exception of one. Sorry about that Bingen. Excursions were available at all locations but the uptake wasn’t great and the ones at Cologne and Bingen were cancelled. Some excursions were included in the price and we Brits weren’t going to miss out on them. A walking tour of Speyer and a coach trip from Nijmegen to Arnhem and ‘A Bridge Too Far’ were the first two. In Amsterdam, where we were mored a couple of miles out of the centre, we were bused into the city and took a canal cruise. In the afternoon a shuttle bus was organised for those who fancied an independent wander round the city. Those leaving by Eurostar got a bonus tour of a tulip farm on the day of departure but not those who flew. The extra paid for excursions were walking tours at Koblenz, the Mechanical Music Museum plus wine tasting at Rudesheim and the Technik Museum at Speyer. We didn’t join any of those. Mum and Jill had done the Mechanical Music Museum before and the Technik Museum was just a short way from the boat so I went myself, paid at the gate and saved twenty quid. Walking tours are a big thing on river cruises and whilst Jill and I did the included one in Speyer, it was better discovering the locations at your own pace. Saga boats even have little gizmos you can use to have a self-guided walk around most ports of call. We tried this in Bingen without much success and elsewhere we just did our own thing. In Cologne we visited the famous cathedral. In Koblenz we took the cable car over the confluence of the Rhine and the Moselle. In Rudesheim we took another cable car and mum and Jill sampled Rudesheimer coffee. I don’t like coffee but I’m sure it was delicious. In Bingen I did manage to discover an interesting crane. Sorry again Bingen. There’s plenty to see wandering round Amsterdam as I’m sure you know. Not that I saw those bits, I went on a tram ride instead.

Old wooden crane, still works apparently…

I can’t remember the story but I think there’s a bit of SPQR going on here.

So, river cruises, yes or no? For me the jury is still out. I think I need to take another to form an honest opinion. I couldn’t really fault Saga. Whilst I have nothing to compare it with, the boat was excellent, the staff were great, food and drink were fantastic and I fail to see how all that could be bettered. Yes, it was the first cruise of the season so there was the odd teething problem, the onboard wifi wasn’t great and a few more excursions suitable for the less mobile passengers would have been good but these are straws I’m clutching at. So why the indecision? I’m just not sure river cruising is really me. Certainly if my mum wants to take her kids on holiday again we will probably plump for an ocean cruise as there are more choices, both in terms of itineraries and what to do on and off the ship. Having said that, the Danube looks an interesting river….

Famously Dull

Me on the Stourbridge Shuttle. A perfect face for radio, also appearing in a tabloid near you.

I became famous a couple of weeks ago. Not very, just a bit, and I’m not famous any more. Andy Worhol stated that in the future, “everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes” and whilst my stardom was unlikely to extend round the word, it lasted a bit longer than quarter of an hour. The reason for this fame is something I find it utterly bizarre. It is a story of a dull day out I had on a chilly February Tuesday and how it touched the heart of a nation. Or maybe made a few people in the West Midlands chuckle which, thinking about it, is the more likely. The story goes as follows:

Winter is a dull time for someone with a bit of wanderlust such as me. That’s fine though, I tend to spend the time arranging trips both long and short for later on in the year when the weather has a chance of being clement. However, if I’ve nothing planned in a certain month I do like to arrange a Day Out. In January for no good reason I flew from Glasgow to Dublin, then to Heathrow. There, a bus and a couple of trains took me to Luton Airport where another flight delivered me back to Glasgow. I did visit an aircraft model shop in Hillingdon that I hadn’t been to for a while but that was just a bonus, the journey was the only reason I did the trip. A coincidence was that all three flights were 53 minutes long, take off to landing which is of no significance whatsoever but pleasing nevertheless. I enjoyed the day and decided to do something similar in February. This journey, however, would have a ‘reason’. You may not think it a good one but to me it justified the eighteen hour door to door round trip. Back in 2017 a YouTuber called Geoff Marshall along with his then partner Vicky Pipe went on a journey around Britain visiting all the railway stations on the National Rail network. There were 2,563 of them at the time. It was during this journey I learnt of the Stourbridge Branch Line. This is a 0.8 mile branch off the Birmingham to Worcester (via Kidderminster) line that links Stourbridge Junction Station with Stourbridge Town. It is advertised as the shortest branchline in Europe though this is disputed by the Germans and, strangely, the Vatican City. Whatever, it is certainly the shortest in Britain and not only that it has unique rolling stock. The Class 139 Parry People Movers utilise flywheel technology to shuttle what is a small single carriage ‘train’ between the two stations at a maximum speed of 20mph. The journey takes place almost entirely in a cutting where the most exciting thing to see is a retaining wall, and lasts three minutes. On learning about the service I decided I wanted to try it one day and that day finally arrived on February 27. To get there I decided to utilise three unremarkable EasyJet flights. The absence of a direct flight to Birmingham in the morning necessitated flying from Glasgow to Belfast and from there to Birmingham. This had the bonus of seeing me tick off another UK airport as I’d never been to Belfast Aldergrove before. From Birmingham Airport I would take a train into New Street Station, walk to Snow Hill Station then get another train to Stourbridge Junction where my experience of the Stourbridge Shuttle would commence. The journey home would see me reverse my tracks to Birmingham Airport where a direct flight would take me back to Glasgow. Due to the scheduling of the flights the whole trip, including the getting to and from Glasgow Airport, took over eighteen hours, all to experience two three minute journeys on this unique service.

The Class 139 Parry People Mover, Britain’s cutest train.

If you are still with me, and I wouldn’t blame you if you are not, you maybe wondering why? Isn’t that a very dull day out? Well yes, it is for most people. For me, however, I quite like flying and trains. I also like transport oddities and the Stourbridge Shuttle is certainly one of those. Whilst I agree that a day out like that is not for everyone, I enjoyed it and that is the main thing, eh? I realised that the dullness of this trip might be something of a story worth telling. Not here, at least not at first, but on Facebook. Facebook you see has a group called the Dull Men’s Club. It started appearing on my timeline last Autumn and it appealed to me. It is a celebration of the dull, banal and downright boring. Gentlemen (and ladies, don’t be put off by the title) telling tales of their spreadsheets, packed lunches, favourite kitchen implements etc. In fact anything that is considered dull is fair game assuming it gets past the moderators. The group went viral and there are now over a million members. Not only that there’s another group with exactly the same name which has half a million members. How annoyingly dull is that? I decided that the dull trip to Stourbridge to ride a short, dull branchline would be right up their street, especially as I’d taken three dull flights to get there and back. I wrote it up and submitted it. It was deleted by the moderators without any explanation. The following day I wrote it up again, the narrative was a bit shorter and I included three photos instead of one. I submitted it and then went out for a walk. A couple of hours later I checked Facebook. I had several hundred notifications. The write-up had been published and the group members were going crazy about it.

Leaving Stourbridge Junction. Round the curve we enter a cutting in which nearly all the branchline runs. The views aren’t great.

The responses were generally positive. A small number had a moan about me being personally responsible for destroying the planet but nearly all fell into one of two camps – one that thought going all that way for a six minute ride was actually quite interesting or another which agreed it was the dullest thing they’d ever heard. It is the Dull Men’s Group so both of those reactions are positive! After about a week the posting had received 18,700 likes, over 2,500 comments and, crucially, 607 shares. Somewhere along the line the post caught the attention of a few journalists. I received several messages through the Facebook Messenger system from folk not in my friends list. Usually when I get those there’s a picture of some voluptuous young lady who wants to be my friend and probably liberate me of a large amount of cash. These, however, were not. One was from a lady at BBC Radio WM, another from the Express and Star, the newspaper of the West Midlands. There was also one from Pre Metro Operations, the company that runs the Stourbridge Shuttle on behalf of West Midlands Trains. I’d later get a phone call from news agency SWNS. They all wanted the same thing – the reasons I did such an insane trip for a six minute ride on a small train. I happily told them my story and provided them with the same photos I’d used in the Dull Men’s Club posting. I figured they might lose interest but no, the following week I appeared on BBC Radio WM (the local radio station of the west midlands) with an accompanying piece on the BBC News website. The morning show is presented by Kath Stanczyszyn (I was relieved that I didn’t have to pronounce her surname) and we had a lovely chat about my day out in the much sought after 10:45 to 11:00 slot. I think we’ve even got a date should I ever return to Stourbridge. The Express and Star did their article about me which appeared the day following the BBC interview and got most of the details correct apart from the paragraph where they called me Paul for some reason. The day after that I hit the national newspapers. The SWNS article had been picked up by the following: The Metro, The Daily Express, The Daily Record, The Daily Mirror and, for good measure, The Stourbridge News. Each shared the article as written by the agency and included my mugshot from on board the train. The Sun also took the story but re-wrote it meaning I only got a quick mention. The Daily Mail did an article about the Shuttle in its travel section in which I wasn’t mentioned at all. The cheek! It was notable that the Broadsheets didn’t pick it up which is a bit of a shame but there you go.

Naturally I informed my nearest and dearest about my elevation to media sensation whilst some other friends were surprised to see my dull looking face looking out of the papers. The original posting in DMC sprung back to life as a few members shared the links and even photos of the Metro article that they’d seen on their morning commutes. For a couple of days people had a laugh about it. Then, no doubt, they forgot about it. Fame is a fickle mistress. Now, a week or so later, I’m just the same old dull man I was before. It was fun whilst it lasted, but not as much fun as the two three minute rides on the Stourbridge Shuttle.

Links to the articles. I’ve no idea how long these survive on their appropriate websites but rest assured they were there for a week or two.

BBC Sounds (Edited highlights of my Radio WM interview)

Kath Stanczyzszyn Show (The full interview starting at the 48 minute mark)

Metro Article:

I got equal billing with the dog shit on the BBC Website

My video of the Stourbridge Shuttle departing Stourbridge Junction.

The full three minute journey!

The Stourbridge Shuttle arriving at Stourbridge Town after its epic journey from Stourbridge Junction.

All Inclusive

When you hear of the word ‘holiday’, or if you are North American, ‘vacation’, what do you think? Companies that sell holiday packages seem to assume that sun, sea and sand are what most people want, combined perhaps with party evenings and cocktails. I presume they have done some market research and come to this conclusion. Maybe I should be a bit more cynical and think it is the adverts that are forming those ideas of what a holiday should be in people. Whatever, it is safe to assume that a holiday for a lot of people involves going somewhere with guaranteed sunshine, a nice beach and a regular supply of intoxicating liquor. And maybe a buffet breakfast too. We Brits love a buffet breakfast. There are, however, a large number of people who can’t think of anything worse than lying in the hot sun developing melanomas, sitting on a beach where the sand gets right up the crevice or swimming in a mixture of salt water and the outflow from the local sewage treatment works. Elaine and I fall into that category. For us a holiday tends to involve going somewhere that looks interesting, hiring a car and travelling around to see if it is indeed as interesting as we had hoped. It usually is. Lately, and forgetting the pandemic for a moment, we have tended to go to Canada. Not only does it tick the interesting box, it is also spectacularly beautiful and perhaps the most important of all, our daughter lives there. We tend to stay in Airbnb properties, usually for three nights at each destination, before moving on to a new one. I’ve been planning a holiday like this for the summer and we are looking forward to it, despite the lack of a buffet breakfast. That’s not to say we haven’t tried the sun, sea, sand holiday in the past. We had a fortnight in Menorca in 1994. We even had a couple of weeks in St Lucia in 2001. Neither holiday will make the highlight reel of Hughes Holidays.

Having read that initial paragraph, you might be a bit surprised as to the location of our recent holiday. We spent a week in Playa del Carmen in Mexico. This resort is situated 30 miles south of city of Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsular and the whole area exists for one thing – tourism. It might be cruel to call it the Benidorm of the Americas but it’s a mecca for Americans, Canadians and also many folk from Latin American countries. It is also popular with Europeans with daily flights from a number of cities. It has a pleasant climate for most of the year, is lapped by the warm waters of the Sunny Caribbean Sea™(thankand does a good line in tequila sunrise. All in all, it is an ideal holiday destination for the sun, sea and sand lovers and one that provides many tourist dollars to the Mexican economy. What could possibly be there for us? It was Elaine’s idea. We knew that the place where Rebecca worked in Canada closed the first week in January. Why not see if we could arrange a holiday for that time at a destination where we could meet up. Hopefully our son Nicholas could get time off and come too. Great idea but where exactly? Mid way between Troon and Victoria lies Nova Scotia. It’s a lovely place but not somewhere we fancy going in the depths of winter. Mexico, however, fitted the bill. It’s a seven hour flight from Victoria, ten hours from London, and the weather at that time of year looked perfect. Mid-20s, not much in the way of rainfall and, most importantly, a relatively easy place to get to from both the UK and BC. We booked a package through British Airways Holidays for the three of us and invited Caryn, a family friend along too. At the same time we booked a package through Last Minute for Rebecca and her boyfriend Harry for the same hotel. Their flight from Victoria arrived an hour after ours from Gatwick whilst our respective flights back were scheduled to depart at exactly the same time. It was if it was meant to be.

Having booked the holiday last September there was three or four months of worrying about what spanners might get thrown in the works. It turned out that nothing did. None of us got Covid, assorted strikes in various different industries did not affect us and the disarray in Canadian air transport caused by weather in the run up to departure had passed. On December 31st our respective flights ran to schedule, our bags made the connection and apart from a small panic when I realised British Airways and WestJet utilised different terminals at Cancun we all met up and piled into the pre-arranged transport to our resort hotel. It was shortly before 7pm when we set off and so we celebrated GMT New Year on the bus. It was five hours until the local New Year and eight before British Columbia New Year but it had been a long day for those travelling from the UK so we thought it best to get at least one of them done and dusted.

That sea does look appealing from 38,000ft at least.

It took about an hour to get to our hotel. This was the Hilton, Playa del Carmen, an all inclusive, adults only resort. All inclusive resorts abound along the coast. I’m not sure why we chose this particular one but we all felt it was a good choice. Not that we have anything to compare it with but it seemed very well appointed. We all had Garden View rooms which were at the cheaper end of the resort’s accommodation spectrum yet were huge in size, each containing a large jacuzzi next to the beds which barely reduced the living space at all. The beds were comfy, the air conditioning efficient, bathrooms were spacious and all in all we were impressed. The resort had several restaurants, numerous bars and two pools – the main pool and a smaller quiet pool. It was right on the beach although that beach was public and got rather busy during the day. We checked in and had bands attached to our wrists. These were to identify us as residents of the Hilton and not chancers coming in from outside to avail themselves of the free stuff on offer. All inclusive meant that – food and drink were part of the package though certain things required a supplement. Once settled in to our rooms we went to the buffet restaurant for some food and then joined the New Year Party that was taking place. Well, sort of. We were all knackered from a long day of travelling and remained on the periphery. For the New Year countdown itself we retired to the balcony of Rebecca and Harry’s room where we watched proceedings. They were twenty seconds late with their countdown which annoyed the OCD in me but fireworks went off and we all retired to our respective rooms. Despite the party going on until 1am I was very tired indeed and fell asleep without difficulty. I’m not sure what I was dreaming about at 3am but I suspect it wasn’t New Year BC time. Two out of three new years would have to do.

The following morning we all met up at the buffet breakfast (a big thumbs up for that) to decide what we were going to do during the following six days. What exactly do you do on a holiday like this? Sit in the sun, swim in the pool, paddle in the sea? For a week? Mainly yes, but not all the time. We booked an excursion for the following day but then spent the time getting ourselves orientated with the resort and the town itself. The main strip of Playa del Carmen was more or less right outside the hotel’s reception, not that you’d know it from inside. It was a long street of shops, restaurants and bars and packed with tourists, this being New Year’s Day and peak holiday time. It was good to know it was there even if we didn’t have to use it. The Hilton itself took a bit of discovery with the assorted restaurants and bars dotted around the place. The routine for getting beach towels and reserving sun loungers needed to be learnt – basically, grab some towels as soon as the towel station is open and plonk them on the lounger in a way that a German would be proud of. Even better, grab the towels the day before and reserve your lounger before the towel station opens. Towels on the sun loungers might be a cliche but it’s a real thing apparently. There were cabanas dotted round the pool. I didn’t really know what they were either. However, they are like four poster beds with an attached cool box which are available to rent for $99 a day. We did not avail ourselves of them as it might have been a squeeze getting all six of us on one. The main pool had various activities throughout the day including, on three of the days we were there, the foam party. To a 61 year old bloke like me this sounded absolutely horrendous. Soapy suds are generated by a couple of foam cannons and sprayed into the pool where some of them stick. Music of sorts is blasted out of speakers, the resort’s resident dancers gyrate in their thongs and you might get some bloke pouring cheap tequila down your throat from the bottle. What possibly is there to like about that, apart from maybe the thong wearing dancers? I can tell you it was brilliant. I don’t know why but it was great fun. Soap suds flying everywhere, a few beach balls thrown in for the hell of it and the hour it lasted flew by.

Harry, Rebecca and Nicholas get into the suds.

Nicholas before he disappeared for five minutes.

Even Caryn got in on the act after sitting out the first one.

The tour we had booked was to Chichen Itza. This is an old Mayan city full of pyramids and all that sort of thing. It is first on the list of tours that visitors to the region might embark on. We’d booked the full day experience which involved a stop in the town of Vallodolid, lunch at some Mayan themed restaurant, Chichen Itza itself and a swim in a cenote, a sink hole in the limestone rock that the Yucatan peninsular is made from. All was going well until we pulled out of Vallodolid and were informed that Chichen Itza was closed due to ‘civil unrest’. To cut a long story short, the local population, most of whom were of Mayan descent, were less than happy with the management of the site and were kicking up a stink about it. It took a while for the tour leaders to come up with an alternative plan, concocted whilst we were enjoying lunch. Instead of Chichen Itza, we would go to Ek Balam, a different Mayan city. There was an option to return to the resort but we decided to stick with the tour. The schedule changed and we did the cenote swim first. This was really rather pleasant. The sink hole has sheer vertical sides and the water at the bottom, part of the aquifer that gives Yucatan its supply of fresh water, was fresh, warm and extremely inviting. The cenote done and dusted, we headed on to Ek Balam. You know what, if Ek Balam is number two on the Mayan city list, Cichen Itza must be bloody good. It was a fascinating place and, unlike Chichen Itza, you can walk on it, all the way to the top of the temple. The place was busy of course. Many other Chichen Itza tour buses had diverted there so it was quite crowded, even at the top of the temple, but we all felt we had got a very good dose of Maya at the end of what was a long day, even if it wasn’t quite the city we had expected.

Though they do look a bit less enthusiastic once fully in.

The other tours and off resort activities we did consisted of a snorkelling trip, initially for five people but reduced to four when Elaine got a touch of the Montezuma’s revenge, which the remaining participants seemed to enjoy. I didn’t fancy it so I booked myself on a jungle ATV tour. Once in the jungle, which covers most of the peninsula, I got to zip around some dirt tracks twice, interspersed by another cenote swim. Nice though that cenote was, it wasn’t a patch on the other one. It was the ATV ride I was there for and that was great fun, even if the first one I was one was worryingly smoking by the end of the first ride and I managed to drive the second one into a tree and was stuck for a while until I worked out where reverse gear was. Elaine, Nicholas and Rebecca all went on another outing to walk some rescue dogs in what was a rough part of town. The woman that runs the refuge was most appreciative of their efforts. Of the hundreds of thousands of visitors who visit Playa del Carmen every year, only a handful even know about the place. Apart for a couple of walks along Playa’s main tourist drag and the beach, that was it as far as leaving the resort was concerned.

Blue ATV which emitted suspicious smoke…

No photos allowed on the snorkelling tour but I suspect it was something like this.

Walking the dogs in a not very touristy part of town.

The rest of the time was spent relaxing, swimming in the Sunny Caribbean Sea™ and the pool, foam parties, eating and drinking. There were several places to do the eating and even more to do the drinking. We tried the Mediterranean style, the genuine Mexican and Asian fusion restaurants. We also tried a breakfast at the Caribbean cafe. All were good but we always tended to default to the buffet which had a great selection for breakfast, lunch and dinner that meant all tastes were catered for. You are supposed to make reservations for dinner at any of the restaurants but the buffet place always seemed to have plenty of room for those who forgot. Drinks were free but as in any other all-inclusive place in the world, this was restricted to local brands. Anything fancy had to be paid for. The coffee shop was well patronised, not just by the coffee lovers but by those who liked an ice cream, milkshake or pastry. The minibar in the room was also well stocked with free drinks so you were never going to go thirsty.

Playa beach. I know that means beach beach.

All too soon it was time to leave. Checkout was at noon and the minibus was due at 13:30. Although our wristbands were carefully removed when we checked out we were given a chit that allowed us to continue using the facilities until then so with a final shot of tequila we boarded the bus back to Cancun Airport. It took two and a half hours to get there. The traffic and roadworks were horrendous but it is a known thing which is why we’d set off five hours before the scheduled departure. When we finally got there, Rebecca and Harry were dropped off at Terminal Four, the rest of us at Terminal Three and after a bit of a long check in queue we were through airside and complaining about airport prices for the food. Both our flights departed on time and we were all back in our respective homes when we expected to be. It took a couple of days to get over the jet lag, maybe a day or two longer to reacclimatise to the Scottish winter.

Are all inclusive beach resort holidays really for us? It turns out that at the right time, in the right place and most importantly with the right people that they actually are. They might not make for a particularly gripping blog but you can’t have everything. We are already thinking about doing something similar next winter.

Oh Canada

I’m unlikely to leave Britain any time soon. I know the place is in a bit of a mess at the moment, the dark forces of the extreme left and extreme right are waiting to pounce on the Brexit mess, nationalism is out performing patriotism in certain regions and frankly, the weather is a bit shit, but I still feel the pros outweigh the cons even if I can’t really put into words what those pros are at the minute. If, however, I was forced into exile then I’ve got a pretty good idea where I’d like to spend the rest of my days. From the title of this piece you will have realised by now that this place is Canada and be wondering why when the weather there is probably worse than here but having spent over three weeks in the country recently, interspersed with a couple of weeks back home, I’ve become rather smitten with the place.

First of all the bleeding obvious: Canada is big. Huge. Enormous. Massive. Only Russia can claim to be a bigger country and I’ve no desire to go and live there. I’ve visited bits of it before but it would take rather a long time and some seriously thermal underwear to get the feel of all of it. My recent visits have been restricted to the West and even in three weeks I only really scratched the surface. But what a surface it was. The reason I went there at the beginning of May was to support my daughter who had entered the Vancouver Marathon. She currently resides in Victoria which is three or four hours, no time at all in Canadian terms, by road and ferry from the large cosmopolitan city of Vancouver. In the end I entered the Half Marathon and you can read about that event in the blog two before this. Here’s a link so you can avoid the trauma of scrolling past the Sunday Swim blog: https://gladtobegrey.blog/2019/05/15/run/

Away from the race I spent most of the time staying with Rebecca in her boyfriend Warren’s flat in Victoria itself and got to like the place. It is the capital of British Columbia and whilst quite large – over 300,000 live in the Greater Victoria metropolitan area – has the feel of a smaller, more friendly place than it’s expanding neighbour of Vancouver across the water. It has, in Canadian terms at least, a mild climate. It also plays on its British heritage being named after Queen Victoria and with architecture, gardens and place names proudly remembering its colonial past. There are social problems of course – homelessness is a big issue as it is in the other cities we visited – but it came across to me as a genteel place where most people live happy lives. This comes at a cost as house prices have rocketed lately but that only goes to prove what a desirable place it is to live.

A couple of weeks after that trip I returned with Elaine and our friend Caryn for a two week holiday. The itinerary was as follows: three nights in Victoria, fly to Calgary and pick up a hire car and drive to Canmore in the Rocky Mountains. Three nights were spent there before we moved on to Kelowna in the Okanagan Valley. Another three night stay was spent there before a two night stop in Whistler. After that we were to spend three nights in Vancouver before heading back to Victoria for a night and flying home. Rebecca was to accompany us on the road trip. Victoria again proved to be a most pleasant destination despite it raining quite heavily on the first day. There’s plenty to do there – we visited the Emily Carr House and the Royal BC Museum which kept us out of the rain. With the sun out, wandering round downtown was pleasant, Fan Tan Alley off Chinatown is supposedly Canada’s narrowest street and a popular place; in particular the Kid Sister ice cream shop impressed me no end on both occasions I visited it. The harbour is a great place to wander around and the unique water taxis are a fun way of seeing the city from the water. The harbour also serves as a floatplane base – more of floatplanes later – and if you are lucky you will see seals in the water and dogs on boats trying to out stare each other. Staying a couple of miles from the centre meant we got a feeling of what suburban Victoria was like and the pleasant theme continued there too. We watched Rebecca compete in the Oak Bay 10k to a backdrop of the Olympic Mountains in the USA, just across the Straits of Juan de Fuca. Large houses with well kept gardens, numerous specialist coffee shops and cafes and the odd babbling brook suggested a very nice place to live. Outside the city there are plenty of hikes – on my first visit we went out to the Sooke Potholes, a riverside trail a few minutes west of the city – and gardens to visit. The Butchart Gardens are well known but the HCP Garden, which we visited, is less so. Bald eagles circled overhead, hummingbirds buzzed around and, unusually, wild deer could frequently be seen in people’s gardens nibbling the lawn. As an avgeek I was also delighted with the BC Aviation Museum up at the airport. As you might have gathered, Victoria impressed me greatly. It is popular with Canadian retirees attracted by the mild climate and year round golf, though maybe not the deer eating their rhododendrons.

The Yellow Taxis of Victoria are rather quaint.

Our flight from Victoria’s small airport to Calgary turned out to be an hour and a half’s delight. There was barely a cloud in the sky all the way and the views were stunning. They were also a reverse order prelude of what was to come with Point Roberts, the Okanagan Lake and the Rocky Mountains all looking at their best from 25,000ft. With a rather large hire car collected, there was much luggage to be carried after all, we immediately headed back west eschewing the delights of Calgary, a rapidly expanding city from what we could see. Our destination was Canmore. Located in the Rocky Mountains, it is some twenty miles from the larger and more well known Banff. A former mining town, the Trans Canada Highway passes through it as does the Canadian Pacific Railway. It is becoming a popular tourist destination in its own right and is situated just outside the Banff National Park meaning it is a cheaper option than it’s rather well to do neighbour. We were billeted in an Airbnb in a holiday village complex with views of the Three Sisters peaks. It proved to be an ideal base. The stars of the show are the mountains themselves and there are many activities to keep visitors happy. We drove the ridiculously scenic Icefields Parkway to visit the Athabasca Glacier where large snow buses take you on to the ice and later you can walk the glass floored walkway over the edge of the valley. Whilst in itself this was worth the early start and long drive, the sight of a black bear nonchalantly strolling down the hard shoulder of the road was one we will all treasure for the rest of our days. We saw several other bears that day though none as close as this one. We visited Banff on the way back. We avoided the hot springs but did discover the Bow River walk from the town to the huge luxury Banff Springs Hotel. It was delightful in the early evening sunshine. The following day Canmore itself provided the entertainment with a hike up to the small yet glorious Grassi Lakes and a raft trip along the Bow River. Here our fauna count increased significantly with, amongst others beaver, elk, ospreys and a Bald Eagle who appeared to be the boss of the area. Rebecca was particularly taken with Canmore and after only a short visit I can see why. It’s a very nice place in the summer, though I can only imagine how cold it gets in the winter.

Just a passing bear, thankfully not too hungry.

It took us a long time to get to West Kelowna. That was partially due to us stopping at Lake Louise. This is a popular stop on any tour of the area. It is extremely easy on the eye and the vivid turquoise colour of the water makes for a special photograph. The preceding winter had been harsh, however, and the lake was still covered in ice for our visit. It didn’t really matter, it was still outrageously picturesque, especially if you hiked up to the Fairview Lookout. This was made tricky by patches of ice and snow but Rebecca and I made it up and almost down again before I slipped and inelegantly landed in the slush. It was still worth it though. Much of the rest of the day was on the road. We passed from Alberta into British Columbia and later from the mountain to the Pacific time zone. The extra hour we gained came in useful. The Trans Canada Highway is being widened along the stretch we were driving on leading to some roadwork delays, and an accident caused a ninety minute hold up. As previously mentioned Canada is big. On a day like this it seemed it. Eventually we rolled into our accommodation in West Kelowna, another Airbnb with a view not quite as spectacular as the one in Canmore but not at all bad.

The Okanagan region of southern British Columbia is the area around the large Okanagan Lake. It has its own micro climate which is milder than the rest of the country. Indeed, whilst we were there the temperature hovered around the 30C mark. A fertile region, it was popular with fruit farms and still is today, though the major fruit produced is now the grape rather than the apple. Vineyards cover the slopes that rise from the lakeside. Sampling all the wines that are produced could take a very long time indeed though it doesn’t stop people from trying. Kelowna is the major city and is somewhat larger than we had expected. It has a lovely aspect, however, with the lake on one side and mountains on the other. Up in those mountains once ran trains. The Kettle Valley Railway connected the region with the main Canadian Pacific line further north. For some reason known only to the surveyors it was built high in the hills, through forests and across canyons, so high in fact that it didn’t even visit lakeside Kelowna, the largest town in the region. The last train ran in 1973 but since then a section has been restored as a cycle and hiking track. We walked some of it which entailed a drive up a distinctly dodgy access road to its start. The route across Myra Canyon is spectacular and all the more impressive being where it is. Tunnels and cuttings were carved out of the rock as the track clung to the hillside but the standout attractions are the eighteen trestle bridges that traverse the chasms that shoot off the sides of the Canyon. Further south there is a section of the railway that is still operational as a heritage line. We didn’t get to try it unfortunately but did view it as we sampled cider in what was a break from the vineries. Like Canmore and the Rockies, Kelowna and the Okanagan is a place that warrants further attention.

Trestle Bridge, Myra Canyon, Perfectly Safe

It was another long journey to our next destination, Whistler. The quickest way would to have stuck to the freeway and passed through the Vancouver suburbs. For a short time penalty you can also go the scenic route via Cache Creek and Lillooet. The views on this route are spectacular and if you can, take it in turns to drive so everyone gets a chance to enjoy the views. You can also do worse than stop at Historic Hat Creek just outside Cache Creek. This was a roadhouse on the Cariboo Trail goldrush of the 1860s and remains as a tourist attraction, and a handy refreshment stop, to this day. Thankfully there were no hold ups on what was a quiet road, though the temptation to stop and just take in the views was high, and we arrived in Whistler for a couple of nights of R&R. Whistler is a ski resort and the village itself is less than fifty years old. Out of the ski season it still receives hoards of tourists drawn to the mountains for the many outdoor pursuits that take place, or just the scenery. It is a party town and sometimes those parties go on a bit too long. Our hotel was in the middle of the village and just across the way from our room was one bar that proved rather noisy. Lesson learnt, stick to out of town accommodation next time. The cable car up the resort’s two mountains, Whistler and Blackcomb, is expensive and as the hiking trails up the top were not yet open we gave it a miss choosing a walk that commenced in the village itself. Zip wire runs, white water rafting and mountain biking were just three of the activities that could be sampled. Rebecca and I decided to try the RZR off road adventure. These 4×4 buggies bounced us around trails through the forest where no vehicle should have been able to pass, covering us in dust and affording us some spectacular photo opportunities. It was great fun and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. If that doesn’t really sound like R&R then the hotel pool provided that but I was sad to leave Whistler with the zip wires untested.

The drive to Vancouver was a short one but, as with just about any drive in BC, scenic. The Sea to Road Highway offers a direct connection between the popular resort and the huge metropolis and, after a brief stop to admire the Shannon Falls just south of Squamish, we hit the inevitable traffic before reaching our Airbnb in a suburb just a few minutes southeast of downtown. Vancouver frequently pops up as people’s ideal city. It’s true that it is located in a lovely setting with the harbour backdrop being mountainous, the other side of downtown having English Bay with the large green space that is Stanley Park to the north. The city itself is, however, a fairly typical north American grid, the blocks populated with high rise office blocks and numerous apartment buildings to accommodate a burgeoning population. To the south the suburbs seem a nice place to live but go on for many kilometres, again in a grid pattern of named streets and numbered avenues. One tip is to avoid East Hastings street on the edge of downtown. We went down it on the bus and we were shocked at the amount of people living rough there. Homelessness is a big problem everywhere it seems. Here it appears to be monumental. I had run one street away in the Half Marathon and was completely unaware of what was happening just a block away. Vancouver does have its attractions, however, beyond the aforementioned setting amongst water and mountains. Grouse Mountain is one of the peaks that provide the backdrop to the harbour. You can ascend it by cable car or, if you are feeling energetic, you can take a trail that is worryingly called the Grouse Grind. We did. It was serious hard work. You climb 2800 ft over less than two miles. It is stepped, though the word step has a rather loose meaning here. It took Elaine and I an hour and a half, Rebecca with youth on her side did it in twenty minutes less. It’s not a task to be taken lightly but it is some sense of achievement when you reach the cafe and a welcome beer at the top. Once there you have a choice of activities to enjoy – falconry and lumberjack displays, chairlift to the peak, zip wires, a full waiter service restaurant amongst others, or you can simply admire the views. Don’t even think of walking back down, however, it’s dangerous and against the rules. A one way ticket on the cable car gets you back to the car park in six minutes.

Vancouver From The Peak of Grouse Mountain

I previously mentioned the seaplanes in Victoria Harbour. This neck of the woods is a seaplane heaven and both Harbour Air and the smaller Seaair operate services out of Vancouver Harbour. There are many scenic flights operated alongside scheduled services. On my first trip, the day after the Half Marathon, I indulged in Harbour Air’s ‘Mail Run’. This involved an early start with an 08:40 departure from Vancouver Downtown Airport (ie, the harbour) but was a magnificent experience. I flew to Ganges on Salt Spring Island. There I transferred from a fourteen seat Otter to a six seat Beaver to make the short hop to Maple Bay on Vancouver Island. The stay there was brief before returning to Ganges where I was left to discover the town for two or three hours. That’s plenty of time, believe me, nice though the place was. Then you take the scheduled flight back to Vancouver completing a memorable morning with four water take offs and landings. I don’t know why but there is something special about taking off and landing on water.

If you happen to be in Vancouver in the summer you can take in a Bard on the Beach performance, a Shakespeare festival that has been running for thirty years now. We just about made it – the performance of Taming of the Shrew was the festival’s first preview of the season. We enjoyed it greatly but if Shakespeare is not your thing there is another open air theatre in Stanley Park that performs shows like Mama Mia. Remember to take a few layers as it can get a bit chilly in the evening. Our final day in Vancouver saw us do a day trip to the USA. Point Roberts is a geographical oddity, a Canadian peninsula south of Vancouver that dips below the 49th parallel meaning the five square miles of it are in the USA. This tiny piece of land is the home to 1300 people and full border checks take place both ways at the one point of entry. It costs $6 for the visa waiver – your ESTA does not apply on land crossings -, a recording of your fingerprints and an honest answer to the question “why are you visiting Point Roberts?” Tourism worked for us. Once you are cross the border there really isn’t a lot to see but just being there felt strange, a US enclave where the 5th grade and over kids have to travel 27 miles through Canada each way to get to and from school at Blaine in Washington State. It is possible to walk along the border on Roosevelt Way, a road where the demarkation line is the northern grass verge. Whilst it is illegal to cross the border without presenting yourself to the border officials there really isn’t much stopping you. Just for a photo I stood in the USA with my left hand on a low wall in Canada. I wasn’t arrested. Having crossed legally back into Canada we met up with my third cousin for dinner. That’s the thing about Canada, you are almost assured to have relations there. My family and hers found out about each other through genealogy a few years ago, I share a common great great grandad with Donna on my mother’s side.

And that was about it. We needed to get back to Victoria for two reasons – firstly to deliver Rebecca back home and secondly because our flight went from Victoria Airport. It meant a scenic cruise through the Gulf Islands on the ferry, a night in a traditional B&B which was an interesting but comfortable experience. The girls took the opportunity to go to the Fairmont Empress Hotel for afternoon tea as one really should when in Victoria – hint, the Earl Grey wasn’t very good – whilst I went on another seaplane ride, a forty minute jaunt round the local area, just for the hell of it.

Short Final, Victoria Harbour International (Really) Airport

Canada is a magnificent place for a holiday. It has so much in its favour it is almost embarrassing. It’s easy to get to, the scenery is beyond compare, it might be big but the travel is generally easy, there’s activities aplenty to try and the people are warm, hospitable and speak very good English! In the bit where we were the weather was good, though it can of course be harsh in winter in the mountains. I get the feeling that the Canadians deal with the harsh conditions well, they have had enough practice by now. I’ll maybe have to go in the winter just to experience it. The country is, of course, more than just what lies west of Calgary – there’s an awful lot of North of course but the other areas that are likely to be visited are quite a long way to the East. I visited in Ottawa and Niagara last year and have also been to Toronto and Quebec in the past. I hope at some stage to visit the Maritimes, the eastern extremities of the country and nearer to where I live in Scotland than they are to where Rebecca resides in Victoria. As I said, Canada is a big place. I love it.