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2. Concorde Lounge

Monday, 24 December 2018

Heathrow, England

Typing this whilst sipping on a glass of Laurent Perrier Grand Siecle in BA’s Concorde Lounge. We might as well start as we mean to carry on. It’s all rather relaxing now and starting to feel mellow. Morning fraught with trying to resolve computer problems, which means my ineptitude in such matters has made things worse. So you may receive this blog, you may not.

Surprisingly good journey to Heathrow by train, apart from little Henry and Edward on the next table screeching away, and then the Piccadilly Line as the Heathrow Express is on a Christmas shutdown, so I have to endure 1hr crammed in with all the other travellers and oversized bags as this is now the only easy way to get to Heathrow, apart from a substantial taxi fare.

It’s a very quick transit through the dedicated security and soon settle in to the lounge, of which there are two, the First and the Concorde, though not sure what the difference is between the two. I’ve cashed in some airmiles from my weekly trips to Frankfurt over the years.

Quick shower in the spa to delouse myself after travelling on the Tube and then pre-flight dinner in the restaurant.

Only another 3hrs to kill but there are worse places to be to kill 3hrs.

All being well, shall be landing in a hot and sunny Santiago, Chile, on Christmas Day.

1. The formation lap

Friday, 21 December 2018

Nottinghamshire, England

After a few weeks planning (literally), the Antarctica to Alaska trip is currently on the formation lap and hoping for a smooth getaway on Christmas Eve. Drones permitting, I hope to be flying to Santiago, Chile, then flying down to Punta Arenas before flying out to Antarctica to cruise around the Antarctic Peninsula. Returning to Punta Arenas, it’s another cruise to Ushuaia, Argentina, hopefully via Cape Horn, before making my way north over the next five months through Argentina, Uruguay, a quick spur to Brasil, Paraguay, Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, Belize (possibly, to be confirmed), Mexico, USA, Canada and finally back into the USA for Alaska.

The geographically aware will note that Nicaragua is missing from the list. The UK’s FCO currently advise against travel there so having to hop over and unfortunately bypass it.

Travelling using planes, trains and automobiles…and a few buses. Temperatures will vary from sub zero polar conditions to tropical high 30s degC. Being British, I’m used to four seasons in one day and have the full range of apparel from polar gear to shorts and t-shirts packed.

19 countries, unknown miles, an unknown end date and unknown adventures await.

Armchair travel with me over the coming months and enjoy the journey.

Afterword

Nottingham, England, United Kingdom

13 October 2013

Well, dear Reader.

That, as they say, is that. They think it’s all over. It is now.

No more blog you’ll be pleased to hear. Hope you’ve enjoyed armchair travelling with me and reading the daily digest along with seeing the photos?

I know some of you like to start your working day with my mutterings and observations so no doubt you’ll be able to do some proper work now.

It’s been a slog in places and more than one sleepless night. Incredibly hot, pretty much since Helsinki. It’s rare that the temperature dropped below 30C and the hottest, I think, was Victoria Falls which was 40C plus. Now sitting at home with the heating on full blast struggling to acclimatise to a British Autumn.

According to the blog stats I’ve travelled 35,935km (~22,000miles) and visited 19 countries (21 if you include the 20mins of frenzy and stress in Mombasa, Kenya and a 1hr touchdown in Khartoum, Sudan). The number of blog hits has hit nearly 3,500. So at least someone is reading it.

Countries I have really enjoyed are Ukraine, Jordan, Zimbabwe and Swaziland. Disappointed that I couldn’t travel through Egypt and Sudan. Which made it a trip of two halves. Rather than the anticipated continuous trek. There’s a reason for everything though.

The Middle East is full of hot-headed, irrational nutters. It’s no wonder they have problems. Jordan is the relative calm big brother surrounded by squabbling little siblings. But then it’s a monarchy. Touring Taurean’s travel theory: there’s a subtly different feel to a country with a monarchy.

Africa was a fantastic experience. The majority have nothing in life. But it’s full of happy, smiling, friendly people. And that I shall really miss. Especially now I’m back in the UK and see a lot of miserable people who seemingly have everything you could wish for. The city I’ve felt most threatened in is, sadly, my own. Nottingham. Though suspect I would probably feel the same about any UK city.

It will take time to adjust to reality and must remember to stop waving and saying hello to everyone I meet in a supermarket. I’ll likely be locked up for being a complete loon.

Above all else, I really hope this blog has inspired at least someone to travel. I was inspired by the “girl across the road”. She was older and more experienced. In travel! As a young teen I was mesmerised by photos of her travels. The one photo I distinctly remember was the midnight sun at the North Cape. I first made it there 15 years later.

Thankful I’m fortunate enough to be able to travel whilst I’m relatively young, fit and healthy. So get out there whilst you can! Would not want to do a trip of this magnitude when I’m old and crinkly. No comments, please!

So. What’s next? Well, in a few years I hope to travel from Cape Horn through South, Central and North America to either Alaska or Greenland. Not decided which way yet. All thoughts and proposals gratefully received. Where do you want to go to??

I’ll leave you with a few words from Mark Twain which says it all……….

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails.

Explore.

Dream.

Discover.”

That’s all folks!

THE END.

Back to reality

Nottingham, England, United Kingdom

12 October 2013

Sunrise over France.

Land at Heathrow.

Cold.

Wet.

Grey.

Windy.

Miserable.

Welcome back to Britain.

It’s a scrum to catch the underground transfer train to another part of Terminal 5. Cramped conditions. Cattle are treated better.

Unable to Fast Track through Immigration, even though I have the appropriate Boarding card, as I’m a British Citizen. Foreigners can whizz through in a matter of minutes. We have to queue for 20mins. I’ve been through New York immigration quicker than this rigmarole.

Welcome to Heathrow Hell. No one is smiling. Lots of unhappy looking people. Notwithstanding the early hour.

London Cabbie transfers between Paddington and St Pancras. He’s a diamond geezer. Awright. He asks where I’ve flown in from. Explain. He loves travelling as well. It’s a good old natter.

“You’ve made my day. I love having people like you in my cab. Really interesting to meet you. Have a good day.”, he says.

He’s cheered me up no end as well.

Very pleasant East European sorts my train ticket out which continues my cheery state. England’s not so bad after all. Still raining as the train whizzes through the lush green countryside. Makes you realise how green Britain is. Especially as I’ve had months of brown landscape to look out onto.

Arrive Nottingham station. Chucking it down. And cold. And windy. Grumpy.

Walk the short distance to the bus station. Along the vomit and urine stained streets. At least the rain is giving them a good wash. Welcome back to Britain. Arrive soaking wet. Now if I’m really lucky there’ll be a nice warm bus ready to depart home.

There is.

It’s £3 for the single fare. Hand over a £10 note.

“Don’t you have anything smaller?”, the cocky Asian says. Looking at me with disdain. We’re going to get on like a house on fire.

“No. It’s all I have.”

“I’ll have to give you a change voucher.”

Not used to travelling on public buses.

“A what?”

“A change voucher.”

“What’s that?”

“You can use it on your next bus journey.”

Er, I don’t think so mate. Only use the bus about once a year.

“Why can’t you give me change?!”

Raised voices now.

“Don’t have any change.”

“What……for a £10 note. That’s ridiculous.”

“Well….you should have the right money then…shouldn’t you.”

Getting ready to thump the cocky sod.

“Er no. You should have the right change.”

Huff.

Puff.

Jump off bus as there’s a few minutes to spare to find change from a kiosk.

Except there are no kiosks. Find a competitor bus company’s office. They don’t carry cash. But the young manageress very kindly asks one of her drivers to change the tenner. And at the same time asks my driver to wait one moment whilst she gives me the change. I’ve also motioned to him through the window to wait a moment whilst the girl hands me the change.

So I can get on his bus.

Deliberately. As I’m steps away from his gate. He shuts the door. And starts reversing. The little whatsit. Manageress is mad as anything.

Though not half as mad as I am.

Stand in the bus bay shouting expletives at a big red, reversing bus.

Bloody country.

When’s the next flight back to Africa? And happy, smiling, friendly people.

Another bus arrives. Jump on with my fellow passengers. The tattooed and obese dregs of society. It’s clear I’m the only one that can string a sentence together. It’s like being on the retards bus. Walk the mile home. In the pouring rain. Soaked.

Welcome home.

Whenever I return home from abroad I’m always reminded of the time Michael Palin returned to London after his “Around the World in 80 Days” trip in 1988. The usually amenable Palin lost it with a moaning London newspaper seller. Palin’s rant ending with a mocking “Oh yes….welcome back to Britain”, already fed up with his fellow countrymen.

I know exactly how he feels.

Another evening with Prince Edward

Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa

11 October 2013

Weather has deteriorated since the fantastic blue skies of Wednesday. It’s been a leisurely couple of days since completing the Cape to Cape trip. So nothing of interest to report. Apart from meeting WAMC for a very enjoyable dinner last night. He’d just had a meeting with President Zuma and Prince Edward for the Duke of Edinburgh Awards scheme.

I’ve known that Prince Edward was flying back tonight as well. Board the aircraft and busy standing and stretching legs in the aisle just before departure when the Royals board. Prince Edward turns right but for some reason looks left down to the nose of the aircraft. He does a double take. Think he might have recognised me? I’d like to think so.

Hout Bay

Hout Bay

 

He looks at me down the aisle. I look at him. He’s staring at me. Trying to figure out where he recognises me from. Probably. And then. Suddenly. The entire Royal party of aides and protection officers wonder what HRH is looking at. They all turn in unison to look as well. Now have half a dozen people gawping at me down the aisle. For a good few moments. They’re obviously thinking……who is he? Refrain from doing a little regal wave. That would just be taking the whatsit.

They retire to their seats. And I to mine.

Would you like your bed making? Says the beautiful, blonde, blue eyed Irish air hostess. And a Drambuie?

Who makes my night with a little wink.

It’s impossible to go to the Cape of Good Hope

Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa

9 October 2013

For expediency and ease have booked an arranged tour to the Cape of Good Hope. Saves a lot of faffing on my part. Have queried with the concierge why the tour doesn’t have a bullet point for Cape of Good Hope on the list of excursion highlights. It only has a bullet point for Cape Point. Am assured it will go to the Cape of Good Hope. They’re next door after all. It’s inconceivable that a tour to the Cape would not go to the Cape of Good Hope. Isn’t it?!

Collect fellow travellers from various hotels around Cape Town. Including two chain-smoking French Algerians. Looks like Mother and Son. She’s small and dumpy and has a 1970s style big afro-perm. They talk non stop.

Chapman's Peak Drive

Chapman’s Peak Drive

 

In French. Whilst the guide is commenting in English. Struggle to hear guide’s commentary. Finally snap after 20mins. I know. It took that long. Can sense everyone is thinking the same as me. They’re told to shut up. They sit in silence. Rude lot.

Scenic drive along Chapman’s Peak. Stunning road clinging to the headland with magnificent views across the bay.

Arrive at Simon’s Town to see the penguin colony at Boulders beach. Instructed to be back at the bus by 1030hrs. There’s something comical about penguins. They’re all on the beach and the rocks sunbathing. Great waddle.

Everyone is back at the bus by 1030hrs.

Apart from.

The French.

Guide moans about the French.

P-P-P-Pick up a penguin

P-P-P-Pick up a penguin

 

He hates having French tourists. They’re a nightmare. They’re all the same. Always late. Always rude. He says.

Whilst we wait. Something niggles at the back of my mind. Just better check we do go to the Cape of Good Hope.

“We do go to the Cape of Good Hope, don’t we?”

“No. Not on this tour.”

WHAT?!

“But I have to go the Cape of Good Hope. I have to go to the sign.”

“It’s impossible to go to the Cape of Good Hope. We don’t have time on this tour.”

Oh. Crap.

“No, no. You don’t understand. I have to go to the Cape of Good Hope. I’ve been travelling for three months from the North Cape in Norway. I need to go to the Cape of Good Hope!!!”

Bugger.

“It’s impossible. We don’t go there on this tour. Only the full day excursion.”

Taxi for Touring Taurean.

Am going to the Cape of Good Hope. Whatever. It. Takes!! Don’t give a toss what it takes.

Having a nibble

Having a nibble

 

But I am going.

“But I need to go to the Cape of Good Hope. It’s very important. I’ll get a taxi from here. Where can I get a taxi?”

He begins to think about it. Once he realises my determination and the fact I’ve travelled all the way down from Norway.

He formulates a plan of action. Good lad.

Time at Cape Point will be curtailed so we can divert to the Cape of Good Hope 15mins away.

Phew.

He’s a star.

French turn up 15mins late which puts further pressue on time. Flipping French.

What I want. What I really, really want. Is a photo at the sign with no one else in shot. The last time I came here two years ago it was a complete scrum. No one would get out of shot. And everyone was pushing and shoving. But it was a bus load of Italians.

Two coachloads are already there. It’s going to be a nightmare again. Especially as I hear French being spoken. But. Surprisingly. It’s all very orderly. Their South African guide has them under control. The French have formed an orderly queue.

All alone

All alone

 

For the first time ever I suspect. No one is allowed to go behind the sign who isn’t having their photo taken.

Hmmm.

This could take some time if I join the queue.

Don’t have time.

My Guide has done this as a favour and only have a matter of minutes.

Hmmm.

What to do.

Sod it.

Going to be rude and queue jump.

Nip in when a couple clear the area. Audible gasps. Zut alors! There’s a queue you know.

Yeah. Yeah.

Terribly sorry Frenchies.

Sunbathing

Sunbathing

 

Only have a couple of minutes. Don’t have time.

They’re moaning. Their guide is moaning. It’s just not cricket you know.

Smile.

Snap.

Merci et au revoir.

So that’s it. Quick as a flash. All a bit rushed.

Made it.

Cape to Cape.

WAHOO.

I’ve done it.

Bloody ‘ell.

Return to Cape Town. Elated. It’s a glorious day. The brightest and bluest sky you could ever imagine. Not a cloud about.

A great day for a trip up Table Mountain for some walking.

Spot the penguin

Spot the penguin

 

Last time I was hear it was a bit cloudy and misty on the top but today can see for miles. Can even see Cape Point in the distance. It’s that clear. Shall walk across Table Mountain to Maclear’s Cairn. Buy emergency rations. Bottle of water and a pack of wine gums. It’s a giddy existence.

Walk the route I did before across the plateau. Stunning views. Hardly any wind and it’s so silent. Stop and listen. To silence. Not a breath of air. No extraneous noise. Whatsoever.

Make Maclear’s Cairn. At 3,500ft the higest point of Table Mountain. Amazing views of Cape Point. Sense of direction confused by the sun. It goes east to west via north. Not what us northerners are used to.

Celebratory wine gum or two and a swig of water whilst watching over Cape Point having a breather.

To me.....to you

To me…..to you

 

Wow. What a view. Ain’t life great!

Find the alternative path back. Along the cliff face. Wow. Path is quite dangerous at various points. Walk the wrong side of a rock and promptly hit a 1000ft drop. Retrace steps. Path is 3ft wide in places. Right next to a vertical drop. Next stop Cape Town if you fall. It’s that vertical.

Celebratory cold Castle beer. Or two……

An amazing day.

An amazing trip.

Almost there

Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa

8 October 2013

Wake at 0300hrs. Oh. My. God. I’m. Dying. Severe chest pains. It’s a heart attack. I’m too young to die. Aaaarrrggghhh.

Spend the next hour thinking this is it. Until I realise it’s acute indigestion. That’s what happens when you eat late. And perhaps slightly over indulge in gin, champagne, wine, port and a 20 year old brandy. Perhaps.

Breakfast served by an annoying, ingratiating, obsequious waiter who is just a bit too effeminate for my liking. He’ll get a slap if he carries on like that. Japanes amuse themselves by creating ornate origami.

Scenery much more interesting as we’ve now crossed the Karoo desert and trundling through the mountain ranges. Arrive Cape Town station. Not very enticing. Low level grey concrete affair straight out of the 70s. So. This is it. The final station.

Shine bright like a diamond

Kimberley, Northern Cape, South Africa

7 October 2013

Dream that I was on a bus transferring to the Blue Train but rucksack was on another bus going elsewhere. Racing about after it. The sort of dream you actually think is real. Weird.

Wake up and check rucksack is still where it was. It is.

Final train journey of the trip. And may as well go out on a high.

The Blue Train.

Luxury on wheels.

Transfer to Pretoria station at 0700hrs for check in and allocated a suite. Escorted through the station concourse by personal butlers.

Pretoria station

Pretoria station

 

Oh yes.

It’s that posh.

Suite even has a bath. On a train. Lounge is in day mode. Two lounge chairs and a table. Convert into beds for night mode. Double glazed big picture window. Incredibly silent in the suite. Train departs on time. Super smooth. Don’t notice it’s moving. Suite is so silent. Carriage suspension is obviously modern as there’s hardly any movement. This is the smoothest, quietest train since the first train I took on the trip in northern Finland. And now this is the last train to take.

Retrieve jacket and shirt from rucksack. Completely crumpled. They’re handed to butler to deal with. “I’ll steam it.” he says. And off he scoots. As do I. For a walk up and down the train. The Club Lounge is at the front of the train. Ask a waiter if I can carry on further than this point.

Blue Train suite

Blue Train suite

 

“If you go further you’ll see things you’ll wish you’d never seen!” and cracks up laughing. Retrace steps. Club Lounge. Suites. Kitchen. Dining car. Bar and lounge car. Suites. Observation car. All very plush with carpets and veneered wood. And quiet. And smooth.

After nearly 10hrs travel across fairly flat featureless landscape arrive Kimberley. Where diamonds were discovered in the 19th century.

And at this point we’ll have a little Victoria Wood sketch: Kimberley……I’m looking for me friend Kimberley. Have you seen her?

Anyway. Moving swiftly on.

As train is 45mins late arriving it’s a whistle stop tour of Kimberley and its famous BIG HOLE. You’re not going to believe this but it really is a big hole. In the ground. The first half of it was excavated by hand. A gantry overhanging the hole allows you to peer in. Gantry moves as people walk along. Which doesn’t feel very safe.

Tour guide is Scottish. Despite living in Kimberley since 1968 he still has a strong Scottish accent. He was a journalist working for the Glasgow Herald. Somehow got a job at a newspaper in Rio de Janeiro. Of all places. Enroute he landed at Kimberley and got a job at the local paper in town.

Blue Train suite

Blue Train suite

 

Met a girl. Married. And never set foot in Brasil.

None of the usual scrum for dinner. A refreshing change. First sitting has been taken in full by the Japanese. If it’s not Canadians. It’s those pesky Japs. At least this allows time to have a bath. On a train. Can’t remember the last time I had a bath. Shower daily just in case you’re wondering. Double the novelty. A bath. And a bath on a train. Except. The bath is not exactly big. Can just about sit in it with my legs straight but that’s it. Have very long legs. To wet my upper body have to lie down with legs up in air running half way up the wall. You all got that mental image now? Well stop it!

My back is now wet. But not my front. Use shoulders to act as a piston effect with the water. Slide down to the plughole end. A volume of water gurgles along my sides such that there’s now more water behind my shoulders than in front.

Blue Train bathroom

Blue Train bathroom

 

Clever eh. Did physics and everything at school. With more water behind me I’ll just slide back so it rinses over my shoulders to wet my front. Not just a pretty face you know. Except. At the moment I slide back the train rolls the mass of water up the rear of the bath which is exacerbated by my sliding back. Have my very own Victoria Falls. Water splashing over the sides. Bugger.

Dinner is an elegant affair. Jackets and ties for gentlemen. Evening wear for ladies. If it’s good enough for Prince Edward. It’s good enough for the Blue Train. Two gentlemen of a certain persuasion enjoy each other’s company in the bar car. Both are drinking hideously coloured cocktails. Both are wearing velvet style smoking jackets and bow ties. Look like meerkats off the Comparethemarket.com adverts.

Train trundles through the Karoo desert. No light pollution whatsoever. Inky black sky the like of which I’ve not seen since being in the Chilean Atacama desert.

Stars shine bright like a diamond.

Day of rest

Pretoria, Gauteng, South Africa

6 October 2013

Return to Pretoria. It’s only when the hotel address is plugged in that realise it’s a few hundred yards from the British High Commissioner’s residence where we were last night. Back the way we came.

WAMC drops me off and returns to Bryanston for his family BBQ with Prince Edward and the Countess.

Was going to explore Pretoria and do some sightseeing. But now that I’ve settled in the hotel with a good view across the valley. Can’t be bothered. Day of rest required. Girl has to show me how to operate the TV gadgetry. Most embarrassing.

An evening with Prince Edward

Bryanston, Gauteng, South Africa

5 October 2013

My host is hosting Prince Edward this weekend as part of the Duke of Edinburgh Awards Scheme. Which in South Africa is called the President’s Award. To make it less colonial.

Wander around Sandton whilst WAMC has a meeting with Prince Edward this morning. Majority of international businesses migrated from central Johannesburg and are now based in the Sandton area. Which is why central Johannesburg is now vacant. Gleaming new buildings. Similar to the Docklands.

Meet Royal Protection Officer who has to do a recce of WAMC’s home to check the security arrangements for tomorrow’s family BBQ with Prince Edward and the Countess.

Champagne and canapes

Champagne and canapes

 

Feel very honoured to be invited to the weekend’s events.

Today. A Gold Award ceremony and then evening reception at the British High Commissioner’s residence in Pretoria.

Tomorrow. Family BBQ at WAMC’s home. Though pass on this as need to be in Pretoria.

Only because I’m travelling on the Blue Train on Monday do I have a jacket and tie in my rucksack. No great adventurer should be without a jacket and tie in their rucksack. You never know where you’ll be invited.

Leisurely lunch until we realise we need to be at the venue half an hour earlier than first thought. Quick change. It’s amazing how much my jacket has shrunk in my rucksack. Ahem. Bordering on smart casual rather than the required business attire. Rustle up dark blue jeans Quaysides, plain blue shirt, linen jacket and tie. It’s all I have. Just about pass muster. Suppose it’s business attire for a teacher. But not really for a Chartered Surveyor. Who is about to meet HRH. What would the RICS say.

Gold Award ceremony at a local school in Pretoria. Hot. Very hot. In a hall with no AC. Nor ventilation. Plenty of people melting. Very entertaining group of boys singing a capella to kick start proceedings.

Earl & Countess of Wessex present the award to about 100 children. Treated to a few speeches by past Gold Award recipients. One being a 17 year old black lad who has been in a children’s home since the age of 7. Doing the Gold Award gave him the confidence to stand before us all and tell his story. Very impressed. He has the loudest round of applause.

Arrive at British High Commissioner’s residence in Pretoria for the evening reception. A box of Ferrero Rocher under my arm. Invite states, “Firearms are not allowed on the property.”. Jolly good.

Drinks and nibbles served in the canopy covered garden. A few speeches.

And then.

Introduced to Prince Edward.

Met him before. Obviously. In 1986. After a service in Westminster Abbey to celebrate 30 years of the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award. Which I completed various stages of during my teenage years. He won’t remember me. Sniff.

Protocol dictates a small bow of the head. Nearly headbutt him. He’s on good form and comes across as very amiable. Have a quick chat about the Cape to Cape trip I’m doing. He leaves asking how I’m getting back and jokes about doing it all again to get home. Yeah. That’ll be a right old hoot.

Also meet the Countess of Wessex. And Natalie de Toit. And Lord Boateng. Natalie de Toit being the South African Paralymic Gold medallist. She’s just been awarded the MBE. Miss meeting the American Ambassador though.

Very interesting and enjoyable evening.

A great experience.