for their transfers through to Amsterdam. In Portland we waited on Concourse D for our Delta flight 178 at1325 to the Netherlands. We killed some time touring Powell’s Book Store and stopping at Rogue Ale House for a Reuben with chips.It is 1515 and we have just finished a very nice chicken dinner; that’s 1525 Portland time. Right now, we are flying N.E. of Edmonton at 37,475 feet. Our ground speed is 570mph and it is a brisk -63F two feet from my table. It will take us another eight hours to reach Amsterdam.
If you layout a flat Mercator projection of the earth, you can draw a straight line between Portland and Amsterdam. When the map is rolled back into a globe shape again that straight line becomes a great circle flight route. Our great circle route skirts us south of the Arctic Circle and brings us to Holland from the N.W. over Great Britain. In fact, if I had a water balloon, I could drop it onto Edinburgh as we are overflying our final destination.
The shades are drawn and there is no visual signal that we are moving. If it weren’t for a small seat rumble, 577mph is like standing still. Einstein’s Theory of Special Relativity popped into my head as I noticed that without an external reference of motion everything about the airplane ride could have been akin to being in a small crowded theater. Maybe now is a good time for a nap.
“Good morning, Amsterdam.” It is 0955 and we can predict clear skies and picture perfect landscape scenes as we lower over the wide sandy beaches of the North Sea. From 4,000 feet above, Amsterdam presents us with rich rural farm land and a very tidy urban presentation. What is being in Holland without seeing tulips?It surprised me a bit that the entire airport signage is done in English with Dutch sub lines. At best, I would have liked to have seen the reverse. As we walked the concourse I wondered when we would arrive at the security screening stop. Ah, here’s our gate, and this is where the security check is done. Each gate has a closed waiting room and entrance to the room is granted with successful screening. This didn’t slow down boarding any more than the way it is done at American airports. A side benefit is that guests can mill with you in the airport up to actual boarding time.
The last leg of our travel to Edinburgh (pronounced Edinburra), will take us an hour and a quarter. Patti and John (Stan) Stanalonis are planning to meet us outside the customs clearance area of the airport after we have picked up our baggage. They arrived a couple of hours earlier from Albuquerque, via Houston and Newark. Yea! They were there. This journey together was going to be great.
Edinburgh comprises two main sections: Old Town and New Town. New Town was established over 200 years ago. Old Town goes way back. The divider between the two parts of Edinburgh is called the Royal Mile, aka, High Street.At the west end of the Royal mile is Edinburgh Castle and on the east end is the Scottish Parliament and the Palace of Holyrood. Our two bedroom apartment is three flights up steep spiral stone stairs. The sitting room windows open onto a vista of the Royal mile near its junction with South Bridge Street.
Just to the east of us High street is blocked to vehicles each day from mid-morning until 10pm. This is to accommodate the milling about of the thousands of visitors to the
High street shops, restaurants, and historical buildings.Street musicians compete with the cacophony of gaiety coming from the walkers. One artist, with a guitar, sits across the street near the entrance to a kilt shop. He is dressed in kilts and is topped with a gray singlet and a felt hat. Well tanned and tattooed, he plies his music atop a stool on the sidewalk. The guitar case rests open on a blanket, begging for spare change.
We are on the south side of High street. Across from us we count a juice bar, a kilt shop, five pubs, and one liquor store. Anne took a rest after we unpacked. Patti, Stan and I walked south on South Bridge to a Tesco Express grocery store.
We collected some fruit and staples for breakfast. Stan and I stewed over our first exposure to Scottish ales. We ended up with a sample of four different brews. The bill for our five bags came to £29. The US dollar/pound exchange meant that this bill cost $52US. What should be done is plan on spending pounds only, and try not to be doing conversions with each purchase.Stan and I sampled a couple of northern U.K.’s finest ales while we watched people on high street from our window vantage.
A nap was soon called for. The four of us mustered at about 1730 to plan for dinner. We window shopped on the west end of High street and kept our eyes out for a fish & chip shop. After about forty minutes we had circled back
to our starting place. We pondered options and noticed a window sign in a shop two doors from our apartment's stairwell entrance. There is a fish & chip carry-out shop right next door. We bought our shares and returned upstairs to enjoy the first Scottish meal at our own dining table.After dinner we spent some time planning the sightseeing for the next few days. From the windows we noticed that as evening drew near the clothing on the street turned to attire more suited for suiting. The whisky bars, grills and pubs began to liven up.
Every new experience brings a collection of here-to-fore unknown skills that had to be learned. The bedroom heater in this apartment was no exception. Several times I was up and then down again trying to get a comfortable adjustment of the room temperature. When sleep arrived, it was very solid and recuperative. To my surprise, 0730 was a comfortable time to start the new day. Freshly brewed and pressed coffee, followed by a bowl of bran flakes with sliced bananas, was a welcome treat after yesterday’s meals on the go.
After breakfast we all went to the Sunday 10am service at St. Giles Cathedral on High Street. This cathedral dates back to the 12th century, making it one of Scotland’s most treasured. The church has served several different protestant sects since its foundation. Today St. Giles is an Episcopalian church.
We were ushered to a pew nested beside towering columns that arched in all directions at the top to support the heavy brick ceiling. Intricate stained glass murals filled windows high on the outer walls. These windows could be reached only by the morning sun.
Music composed by Bach greeted us from the pipe organ as we sat for the service. The entrance procession was led by a cross bearer, who was followed by the choir, and lastly by the reverends. It was in St. Giles Cathedral that John Knox, Scotland’s Martin Luther King of the day, preached his sermons on the Reformation.
The choir’s voice resonated in the chapel’s vaults. What a beautiful sound. The reverend, a woman, spoke in a very captive way about St. John’s treatise on Doubting Thomas. Small audio speakers on each pillar brought her message to our shoulders with clarity and a wonderful depth of interpretation of the passages.
We had decided the most important sites to see would be: Edinburgh castle, Holyrood Palace, and the Queen’s ship, Britannia. But first, we would buy a city circuit ride on one of the open top tour busses. This way we could get a better glimpse of the many sites this ancient city offered. The bus trip started at the end of the parkland between Old Town and New Town.
New Town’s Princess Street was the first one we visited. It was originally developed in the 18th century as a residential district for Edinburgh. Princess Street today is a combination of hotels, shops, and statues of memorable old Edinburgh citizens. The bus came with a narrator who kept us turning left and right as we inched through the active Sunday traffic.
Lunch was taken outdoors at the west end of Princess Street gardens. I enjoyed my first dish of haggis, neeps and taddies. Haggis is a dish containing sheep’s heart, liver and lungs, minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally simmered in the animal’s stomach for approximately three hours. Neeps and taddies are separately mashed servings of boiled yellow turnip and potatoes. Like you, if I had known what I was about to eat beforehand, I doubt I’d have ordered it. However, this is a traditional Scottish fare; as they made waste of no edible portion of the sheep. I was surprised at how good the sausage-like meat tasted. The three dishes made a great meal. This treat was washed down with a bottle of Old Engine Oil, a micro-brewed porter style ale. As lunch on the lawn progressed, the sun’s refreshing warmth became shadowed by our host building, the Art Gallery of Scotland. It was time to get moving again.
Anne and Patti decided to use the 24-hour bus passes we had been site seeing with to return to the Scottish National Museum. Stan and I chose to walk to the north end of New Town to try to catch a glimpse of the bridges that cross the narrows of the Firth of Forth. The firth is an inlet of the North Sea which served the ancient naval resources of the original colonizers of Edinburgh. We could see the firth, but the bridges were hidden behind hills. A visit to the links of St. Andrews was on our to-do list, as Stan is an avid player. St. Andrews is located north of the Firth of Forth and access to the city is made by crossing the bridge, so we will have at least two opportunities to cross the firth. Our after lunch stroll ended well; we found ourselves at the grocer again. At the we selected the evening’s fare and, oh yes, a few more bottles of “need to try ales”.
Maybe it was because of the haggis for lunch, or perhaps because we couldn’t sight the bridges, but sleep tonight wasn’t to happen. At 0230 I was up and out on the couch in the living room to read awhile. Slumber soon took over and I was too comfortable to move. Somewhere nearby on High street a burglar alarm siren sounded. Lights came on in apartments across the street. I put my head under the sofa pillow to try to
mask the noise, but the alarm seemed to have no shutoff timer. I went back to bed to get away from the din. I slept ‘till 1100. Wow, I haven’t done that since my teen years. I felt good, though.After a gentle walk to the west end of the Royal Mile, the Edinburgh Castle erupts imposingly beyond an open square, the expanse of which begins where the tall and ancient buildings of High street suddenly cease. No enemy succeeded in capturing the castle by force. Edinburgh castle is built atop a hill formed by prehistoric volcanic activity. The lower swale forming the Royal Mile to the east was formed at the same time.
Geologic evidence dates occupation of the stone hill from around 1000 B.C. The natural defensive attributes of the hill attracted its use by the first Scottish ancestors of the early years A.D. The castle was founded on the rock during the 11th
century. Margaret, the Saxon queen, had the oldest building in Edinburgh dedicated to her as the St. Margaret Chapel. The chapel holds the highest point and the castle walls and buildings were later developed lower on the stone. All of the pathways inside the gatehouse boundaries are of cobblestone. Cannon ports look out toward every vantage of the horizon of the lower surrounds.
The vast open space at the end of High street was the only approach to the castle that didn’t demand rock climbing skills. This open field was called the killing field. Few attackers survived its crossing. No moat surrounded this hilltop fortress. Just before the gatehouse, the field ended with a dry ditch. Deep and wide, the ditch served as a final shooting arena for the castle guards.The castle had been captured in its long past, not by assault, however. Overpowering the command of Edinburgh was done by prolonged siege. With no way to secure new food stocks, the inhabitants had been forced to surrender.
The castle has served as a military garrison until
well into the 19th century. Some buildings inside the walls have served as P.O.W. holding cells. During the American Revolution up to 1000 Yankee soldiers had been held captive at the castle. The Scottish parliament once convened in the Great Hall. The Scottish crown jewels, sword, and scepter are still held in a specially vaulted building. One ancient stone building has been dedicated to house Scottish war memorials. Within this memorial the names of all soldiers and sailors who have lost their lives to the service of their nation since the end of the 19th century are listed in books dedicated to distinct military units and wars.
Tuesday morning we ate breakfast at the café below the apartment. We planned for a casual walk east on the Royal Mile. Our first shopping stop was at a kilt store that featured Scottish made fabrics and kilts. Adjoined to the store is the former 
home of John Knox. Together they are the oldest residences on the Royal Mile. The store is split level inside and features stone steps worn smooth into a gentle arch from uncounted trods since the 1400’s. Anne and I found tartan wear and clothing souvenirs for the family. Patti and Stan took a tour of the Knox home. Anne continued shopping, and I enjoyed a WiFi coffee break nearby.Once re-gathered, we continued our walk east
to the entrance of the Palace of Holyrood. This is the royal residence when the queen is in country. Anne and Patti went in for a look, but neither bloke was interested. We planned to meet later at the apartment.
Stan and I thought we would have a visit to the parliament building. In Edinburgh, the parliament building stands out at the eastern end of the Royal Mile. It is one of the city’s newest structures and features very modern and visually striking outside architecture styling. We found the public door and entered. Inside, we came to the rear of a line of people who were being subjected to an airport style security screening. Nope, we didn’t need to see the inside of this building that badly.The widths of the blocks between cross streets seem to be three to four of what would be found in the U.S. Between cross streets are several sidewalk size tunnels which provide access between buildings. These are called closes.
Each close has a name and they open to the ½ block addresses, which are offices or high-rise residences. The close paths general wind their way to the next street over.Stan and I entered one close and came out on Holyrood Road. We passed the University of Edinburgh and found our way up to South Bridge, which passed overhead. Holyrood
Road seemed to house academia, churches, and government buildings. It was not much for shopping. On South Bridge, Stan and I emerged a half block from our favorite Tesco grocery store. We restocked with dinner and breakfast foods and also discovered some new afternoon treats to imbibe.The apartment landlord had met us with
a key and a walkthrough when we first arrived. During that visit he told us of the faith he had in the Rabbie’s Bus Tour Company when it came to seeing greater Scotland. The main Rabbie’s office was across the street from our apartment. Today we had scheduled a bus tour to the Highlands. The trip would take us as far north as Loch Ness. Emily is the driver of our fifteen passenger Mercedes Benz bus. Bob rode shotgun and is our tour guide. Bob, short for Robert, or Rabbie, is a very knowledgeable and seasoned guide. He was along on this trip to give Emily her final check ride before she will begin guiding on her own. We traveled west and north through the lowlands, central, and highlands, and Bob gave us a running history of battles and personalities of each village we past.
Fields were brilliant green and many were speckled with fluffy white sheep. One or two lambs frolicked within a few feet of their resting mom. Forests of fir and Scottish pine are cultivated on the hillsides. Many of the forests were planted by Swedes. Tax wise, it was less expensive to grow timber in Scotland and ship it back than to produce the woods in Sweden. Most of the hills are barren of forest and gently rounded as we approach the highlands. The tallest mountain in the U.K. is Ben Nevis. Towering at 4406 feet, Ben Nevis is comfortably nestled in the highlands.
The drive north took us to Sterling, Loch Lomond, Oban, Glenco, Fort William, Loch Laggan, and Loch Ness. There were several stops along the way to photograph local sites or to have a potty break, snack, and a walkabout. The city of Callander was a longer visit for Emily’s rest.The Scots have spent their history either fighting intruders or each other. The highlanders and lowlanders have never gotten along. During the reign of King William highland clans revolted against the establishment and were defeated. It had always been a tradition that if a clan member ended the day in the territory of another clan, friendly or not, the traveler was made welcome and treated to meals and rest by the host. At the end of the revolt William wanted to treat the offensive clans to a lesson for all. The MacDonald clan members were given an open door by the Campbell. The welcome by the Campbell clan was presented as genuine, in accordance with the inter-clan traditions. On the morning of the clan MacDonald departure the men of the Campbell snuck into the MacDonald camp and began slaughtering men, women and children. Many of the MacDonald managed to escape back to the highlands.
From that day forward, the Campbell clan was not to be trusted. We know, however, that the leader of the clan, Big Mac, did indeed survive the encounter. This bloody episode happened at the village of Glenco.We treated ourselves to a one hour boat ride around the near perimeter of Loch Ness. This loch is Scotland’ largest at ~23 miles. The lock holds the equivalent of all water in the lakes and rivers in the U.K. Loch Ness is over 900 feet deep.
No monster was to be seen today. We re-boarded the bus after watching the inter-coastal locks
lower a couple of cabin cruisers the final ten feet into the waters of Loch Ness. This cross-country waterway drops about 50 feet elevation between the North Sea and the Atlantic.The ride back to Edinburgh took us through Pitochary where we enjoyed a mandatory 45 minute driver break and a pub stop. Then it was onto the carriageway, past Perth, and across the suspension bridge spanning the Firth of Forth and on into the city. We were shuttled off the bus at St. Andrew’s Square, a main New Town bus station.
We enjoyed a casual walk down North Bridge Road to our apartment. Having dinner was foremost on everyone’s mind, so we dropped our packs and checked into a neighborhood restaurant for a late meal. None of us found the dinner very satisfying. The establishment was out of this, and out of that.The fifth of May is Election Day in the U.K. The political system in Scotland, and the entire U.K., is something worthy of several days study from the vantage of a stool at the nearby pub. Today there are many issues at risk, as well as potential for large parliamentary membership change. We’ll catch up with the results on BBC1’s evening news.
Stan and I walked to the St. Mary Street post office to buy a couple of boxes to ship Scotland treasures back to the U.S.A. On the way back we caught up with a small sprinkling. England and Scotland have been suffering from unusually dry weather. Heather fires have been pestering the highlands all week. It is interesting to see how this country tackles the low-level bush fires. Unlike in a forest, these heather plants will return to green, and flower the hillsides, within a couple of years.
One doesn’t travel with women without the expectation of shopping. However, family at home shouldn’t expect too much for souvenir gifts when men travel alone. The two boxes are soon filled; it’s a good thing for the families that the ladies came along. Our shopping this morning included several street stores and the modern mall off Princess Street. Success was a given.
Trekking back to the apartment we entered Jackson Close. It offered a gradual slope up to the more elevated High Street. Behold! At the middle of the close was located Halfway House. This pub was last year’s Edinburgh Pub of the Year. It is a hole-in-the-wall on the close and has been of service to the locals for a couple hundred years. The doorway exhibit of antiquity ensured us we would be in good hands. We were rewarded inside. The Halfway House is a small, quaint establishment with a well presented bar and a handful of tables. There was a wonderful selection for both food and tap. We enjoyed the stop and were much rewarded.“Wake up Stan.” Today is the Mecca trip by train to the birth place of golf: St. Andrews. We bought round-trip train and bus tickets at Waverly Station. The train will take us to Leuchars, leaving us with a 12 mile bus ride to St. Andrews. We enjoyed the train and received fresh views of the lowland country side. The ride lasted about one hour and took us across the rail suspension bridge over the Firth of Forth. Gentle hillsides were bright yellow with Rape seed plant, the basis of Canola Oil. Rape seed is a significant source of faming subsidy, so it is everywhere. Many vacant fields were freshly harrowed and ready for new planting. They showed off the rich dark soil.
The bus from Leuchars to St. Andrews arrived on schedule.
St. Andrews is a fairly small town. It is on the map primarily because of its links. The golfing history goes back to America’s Civil War era. The bus station was situated at the highest spot in town. We walked the curvy streets down towards the historical course and found ourselves on the footpath at the 17th hole.
An 18-hole round at the old St. Andrews course needs to be booked and paid for a year in advance. The round will cost ~$250, not counting fees and tips one will give to the mandatory link caddies. A foursome tees off #1 every twelve minutes. The caddies ensure there are no delays along the way. To play, one needs to be able to present a handicap card documenting their talent at the game. This requirement tends to keep riffraff off the course. This time of the year the fairways are a gentle green. The texture of the fairway lawns is akin to that of the greens we see at home. We lunched at the One Under Gastro Pub at Rusack’s Hotel. We all had very tasty Scottish fare.After lunch, the ladies toured the city while Stan and I
walked more of the course. We enjoyed a stroll on the side path watching a couple of teams play through the first two holes.The carriages were crowded on the return train trip and we had little choice of seating. Anne and I found ourselves sitting behind two tables of weekend revelers on their way into the big city. They had brought a generous supply of Miller Draft and sparkling wine.
Already it’s Saturday morning. Tomorrow at 1000 we fly to Southampton. We need to fill our eyes with parting glimpses of this most ancient land.The Scotch Whisky Experience (no spelling error in whisky) tour begins with a barrel ride through a tunnel, much like being in a fun-house. At stops along the ride you are presented with history and factoids about the whisky making process. The ride ends in a hallway with depictions that summarize the barley’s germination, malting, fermentation and distillation; steps in creating the whisky. Distillation takes the brewed ale through two cycles creating about 70% grain alcohol. The alcohol is then cut with water down to less than 45%, or 90-proof. Aging or maturation comes next. Aging for Scotch whisky must be a minimum of 3 years.
Maturation is done in oak barrels which have been used for storing bourbon or sherry. Scotch ages only so long as it is in the barrel. Once bottled, the aging stops. So, a 12-year old whisky has matured 12 years in the barrel, etc.
There are six whisky regions in Scotland. Two of them represent only a few distilleries, so they aren’t considered primary regions. The four remaining regions are the Lowland, Highland, Islay, and Speyside. Each region creates signature flavors and aromas in their single malts. The most distinctive malts are from Islay in the N.W. Here the barley is dried and roasted over peat smoke heat. This gives the barley a residual earthy flavor and scent.
Blended whisky comes with contributions from all four regions. One does not find just Highland blend, for example. The Master Blender is trained at least fifteen years and is the most highly rewarded employee at a distillery. The success or failure of a product rests with the blender.
The tour ends, as expected, at the retail department. At the store we browsed the shelves. They displayed too many choices for the novice. We selected a few sample size bottles from different regions to experiment with this evening. Some of the scotches were very pleasant. Boy, we found a peat single malt that I won’t be going back for. The earthy taste and smell were overwhelming. But, we were there, and we did that.
The taxis are almost all LTI brand. They look
like the classical English movie taxicab. The 8-o’clock trek down the steep spiral stairwell took three trips for all of the bags. The taxi stand for this section of High Street is just east of the daytime street vehicle barriers; plenty of time yet for a 1015 departure on FlyBe to Southampton.£20 later we were dropped off near the departure terminal. Baggage check-in and security was a low key American version. Naturally, gate 15 for BE764 was at the far end of the terminal. I wonder if gates 1, 2 and 3 are just for show, or do some fliers get to use them?
We arrived at Southampton at 1200. Baggage was quickly reclaimed and we were met by Ian and Christine, they are year’s long friends. Ian and Christine drove us to Ian’s
home in Tadley. They had prepared a scrumptious lunch and an afternoon on the back lawn visiting and planning the week’s adventures in England.A new home reveals mysteries to solve. I decided to shower early in the evening to beat the bedtime rush and to be able to spend the waning hours comfortable and refreshed. The tub has a shower head with a preset temperature. This is great. However, as is customary, I turned on the tub faucet and then the shower. The tub wouldn’t stop running. So, shower quickly and minimize waste. When I turned off the
tub water the shower kept running. Drats! I hadn’t needed to turn the tub on in the first place.A line was waiting as I left the bathroom. Because I had showered early, everyone thought I was retiring early, too. Alas, a chance to visit with self and enjoy a wee drop of Fabulous Grouse blend. Yum! Alarms are not set for an early rise. We plan to leave for the Stonehenge around 1100. The 55 mile trip should see us arrive by 1 o’clock.
After breakfast we loaded up for a back road ride to Stonehenge. Christine drove the ladies and Ian drove Stan and me. These roads link thousands of small villages throughout England. Between the narrow main streets of one town, to that of the next, lay a few miles of gentle hilly curvy two-lane road. Once in a while it was necessary to pull over to accommodate the passing of a car coming the other way. The roadsides were partitioned into well groomed radiant green paddocks. The roadside
foliage was so dense in some places it grew to the edge of the pavement. We occasionally found ourselves between two walls of ten foot high bush. The vertical edge of the bush had been mowed to a smooth surface using trucks with vertical blades. The plants were trimmed as if it were a garden hedge, smooth and regular.On a smooth hilltop stood the massive stone blocks which are Stonehenge. Grass was being grazed casually by sheep fell away in all directions from the clustered architecture of pillared rock. The first impression of the henge, as we were drawing closer, was how small it seemed on the hill top. We found a convenient parking space and walked the well prepared path joining the walkway around the circumference of Stonehenge.
The stones are massive, exceeding fifty tons,
and a third of the vertical monolith’s mass is buried in the ground. The erected stones form an outer ring and an inner ring. The tops of the stones create a level plane about fifteen feet above the ground. Flat lintel stones rest atop. They are held securely in place by painstakingly carved mortise and tenon joints.The stones of Stonehenge were drug from resting places up to 250 miles away in Wales. As with the stones of the pyramids it is thought they were pulled over continuously repositioned logs. It would have taken vast periods of time for a village of men to transfer each stone to its final site.
The original henge, a circular trench dug deep into the chalk of the Salisbury plane, had a diameter of 375 feet. This was in place around 3,000 B.C. Timber posts were the first to be erected inside the henge. It is believed the site was being used as a cemetery. The posts were replaced by the more permanent stone. The henge was maintained for nearly 1500 years.
Salisbury Plane has many ancient sites in proximity to the River Avon. A few miles away by road from Stonehenge is Woodhenge. This was a ritual location that didn’t progress beyond circles of large diameter posts. The two sites definitely instill wonderment over the rituals which may have taken place. The engineering barriers that stood in their way were enormous.On the drive back to Tadley we stopped for a pint and a brunch of roast beef, ham, and turkey with Yorkshire pudding, taddies and veggies at an inn called The Beach Arms Hotel, near Oakley; a wonderful English meal for about $5. The food was presented by the Crown Carveries.
The sun shone all afternoon over the rear garden at Ian’s home. We lounged on the lawn with wine and ale. It turned into a relaxed evening over Banana Grams and an occasional nibble of cheese and crackers. Tomorrow morning
is to be a train ride from nearby Basingstoke to Waterloo Station in London. It’s early to bed.There was a ten minute wait for train tickets at Basingstoke station. Ian had instructed us to ask for “cheap, same-day returns to Waterloo”. I recited the order and paid £40 40p for the four of us. Platform 3 had a train arriving for London’s Waterloo station in five minutes, and then another in twelve minutes. The first was a milk station run, so we held on for the second one. The trip took fifty minutes. It was fast and smooth. We exited into a beehive of activity within the hub of the station.
We had been waiting a very long time. Anne was contemplating a rescue mission, and then she re-appeared. She was well. Patti had entered the ladies’ toilets without the correct change. Desperation had won out, and she had negotiated an exchange for the 30p the turnstile demanded for her relief.
“Way Out” signs were posted for each direction we looked. Our idea for today was to catch an open two-decker bus for a tour of the city. A sightseeing tour bus ticket permitted one to hop on and off at any stop, and visit areas of personal interest. So, we followed the signs to an exit and began looking for a tour bus stop.
Soon, we were on Hungerford Bridge over the River Thames. This is a pedestrian only crossing. There are about a dozen bridges spanning the easterly flowing snake that divides this huge metropolis. Before the day’s end, we will have crossed six of the bridges.On the north side of the river we found ourselves walking along Victoria Embankment. We headed to the west, toward Westminster. London once had a tremendous sanitation problem. Samuel Peeps chronicled some of this history in his famous diary accounting. The stench was so immense that medical experts of the time believed it was an instigator of the Great Plague. To ward off attracting the disease, citizens would carry incense burners and immerse themselves in a cloud of fairer smelling air. Dogs and cats were also believed to be contributors of the illnesses. As a remedy, they were killed off in great numbers. Boat captains were paid a few pence to collect bodies that were floating on the Thames, and to bring them to the shore for proper burial. Along with the cats and dogs, hundreds of thousands of Londoners ultimately fell to the Great Plague of the 1650s. The ultimate source of the plague was London’s dismal sanitation. This had led to the enormous disease carrying rat population.
By the turn of the decade politicians had had enough of the Great Stink. They commissioned a man to design a septic system to help relieve the streets of the
mounting sewage. Duct work was placed along the Thames to carry off the waste. These conduits were then covered and formed what is now the major artery: Victoria Embankment.Victoria ends at Westminster Bridge. Westminster Hall, the houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey are clustered around Parliament Square at this intersection. We had not yet found a bus for our city tour, so we decided to take on a visit to Westminster Abbey while we were close.
Officially titled The Collegiate Church of St. Peter at Westminster, the Abbey was originally founded around 970 A.D. for a community of Benedictine monks by King Edgar. A stone abbey was built for the monks by King Edward the Confessor as part of his palace around the year 1050. Construction of the present church was begun in 1245by Henry III, who had selected the site for his burial.
When Henry VIII was refused a divorce from Katherine of Aragon by the Vatican, he decreed that religion would now come under the control of the monarchy, thus establishing the Church of England. This happened in the mid 15-hundreds. The Abbey was awarded cathedral status in 1540. This status spared it from destruction which befell most of the rest of England’s abbeys. The Abbey was restored to the Benedictines under Mary I, who was catholic. Additions to the Abbey carried on through the next two hundred years.
Westminster Abbey is the final resting place for all of England’s Royals, as well as a significant number of non-royal notables. Royal weddings were also traditionally
held at the Abbey. The cloisters and other areas were burial sites for aristocrats and monks. A wing of the cloisters is called Poet’s Corner. Here all of Britain’s greatest literary masters will be found: Burns, Keats, Johnson, Kipling, and the list goes on. This practice spread to include notable military, medical and scientific personalities. It was exciting to find monuments to Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, and the 20th century physicist Paul Dirac.The arched volume of the Abbey extended above us to 101 feet 8 inches. Through nearly eight centuries of development the Abbey’s rounded triangular arch motif remained constant. Obsession with the evermore grand saw at least one monarchy go bankrupt. Gazing at the features adorning the extensions of the abbey on the outside can quickly tire you. A single glance just can’t take in the enormous size, or the detail of the architecture. At one corner stands Westminster Tower, with its massive Big Ben time piece.
We toured it all with our hand-held audio guides. This museum of Royal power and turbulence also contained a museum. Ironic as it seemed. We looked through the museum, too. Properly seeing Westminster Abbey is a bit like properly seeing the Smithsonian. It amounts to hitting the highlights, at best, in only one afternoon. As we handed in our audio aids and exited the Abbey, we nodded a farewell to a statue memorial for President F.D.R.
Lunch hour had come and gone and we were hungry.
A couple of near-death street crossings brought us to the Westminster Arms Storey’s Gate for pubulicious libations and some fish & chips. The booth was crowded, but the food and drink were great.Following lunch we crossed Westminster Bridge. From the bridge we had a great view of the London Eye. At first glance the Eye looks like a giant ferris wheel built with spokes like a bicycle wheel. Each of the glassed-in compartments will carry several people on a very slow spin around and over the top at 443 feet. The Eye
stands on the south bank of the River Thames. The London Eye was to be a temporary attraction to help celebrate the millennium. It has been a money maker, so it has been left in place.On Westminster Bridge Road we came upon a tour bus stop. The sun was warm as we sat atop the open air, two storey red behemoth. For over an hour we enjoyed the pattering of a well schooled tour guide as he addressed the historic issues associated with buildings we passed and townships we crossed.
The old City of London is enclosed in one square mile
of densely packed commercial and financial acreage. When you enter the city limits the old city, you are met by a dragon atop a pedestal beside the street. No matter where you enter, you will be warned by the dragon.At about the same time as the Great Plague and the Great Stink, London suffered from another calamity: the Great Fire. The fire is believed to have had its origin at an unattended bakery oven. The fire started at two in the morning and quickly caught
hold of the bakery’s timber walls and thatched roof. The Mayor of London was awakened. He quickly assessed the problem, dispatched a remedy, and went back to bed. Five days later cinders were still smoking and the city was destroyed. I think I know who the city may have gotten some of the dough from it needed to begin the rebuild.The village of Silchester is a short drive from Tadley. It was at Silchester that the Romans based their administration following the invasion of England in 43 A.D. The Romans built a large walled city, complete with an adjoining amphitheater. The town was called Calleva Atrebatum or, town in the woods of Artebates. The Atrebates were the local Iron Age tribe. The tribe had settled the area in the first century B.C.
Ian has a couple of pubs that are his local favorites.
He meets with friends from his squash club for regular visits, or with friends who compete with him at the Monday night trivia contests. We had lunch today at one of these spots; called The Public Inn. The Inn had three main service areas, each with an ancient brick fire place and relics from the past. A well used dart board hung on the wall behind our table. Overhead, the exposed ceiling beams had been carved from years of assault from darts thrown with a little too much arch. Lunch was a simple ham baguette smothered in mustard and pickle relish. It was washed down with a pint of fine Otter Bitter Ale. The Inn dates to over 300 years.
Tomorrow Stan is going to treat us to a dinner featuring his special S.W. brisket roast. This preparation displays some culinary magic and is a personalized labor of love in its presentation. Ian knew just the market having a butcher who could ensure Stan’s work would begin with the best inventory. The five of us invaded the store, secured a ten pound cut, and carefully browsed the many isles for sundry side dishes and condiments that would round out Stan’s dinner requirements.After we had tomorrow’s meal locked in, Ian took
us to his other favorite historic pub. This one is called The Pineapple. The name doesn’t come from the tropical fruit, but from the old name for the pinecone. This inn used to serve as a way stop for shepherds and drovers who worked their flocks and herds over the rolling grasslands of the Salisbury Planes. You are met at the front door with the need to duck your head to enter. Once inside, the low hand-hewn ceiling beams and stepped narrow passages guaranteed a bump in the head if it weren’t held low. Ian suggested that wearing hardhats ought to be the price of admission. In America OSHA would have just put a padlock on the front door.
The Inn’s tables, benches, and chairs were fashioned from enormous pieces of British Elm. The chairs had been sliced from logs over three feet in diameter and formed into solid seats with wrap around solid backs. No joints were included in their construction. The pint of ale was hand pumped from its near room temperature keg. We had a nice visit at The Pineapple and I am certain that the Inn’s hosts over the past 900 years had ensured the shepherds did, too.Tonight Ian and Christine were treating us
to an evening at the theater. We had about an hour and half to refresh and redress before curtain call. Part of this time we enjoyed relaxing in the living room. I assisted Stan with some of the early preparations of the brisket. Christine arrived at Ian’s a little before six. We drove two cars over the narrow, windy back roads to avoid the evening’s rush hour traffic on the main motorways.The setting of the Watermill Theater was beautiful. An old brick watermill grain house had been converted into the theater building. Around the theater are lusciously manicured lawns and hedges. The mill stream’s gentle flow offered a nice backdrop to accompany a glass of wine prior to the toll of the first act bell. We were treated to a splendid performance of Moonlight and Magnolias or, how the script for the movie of Gone with the Wind was written in five days. This is a very humorous play.
At home again, we snacked on some cheese chips and salsa. It had been eight hours since we ate lunch and this pre-bed snack really hit the spot. Over a glass of red wine, we sat at the dining table and joined Anne in finishing the crossword and number puzzles from the tabloid she grabbed yesterday at Waterloo station. We were tired and tucked into bed by midnight.
Thursday morning Anne and Patti were off to Basingstoke station at 0930. They were going to tour the Tower of London. Stan rode with Ian when he drove them to catch their train. The tower of London is a large white castle built by William the Conqueror on the north bank of the River Thames. The castle is defended by a tall wall that was built around the centrally positioned white tower. At the apex of each corner, the walls are joined by large cylindrical defense towers. Inside the walls are the Queens House, Waterloo Barracks, the Chapel of St. Peter, a hospital block, the armories and other support buildings.William led the Norman invasion of England in 1066. He defeated King Harold’s forces at the Battle of Hastings. He had the castle and fortress built in the 1070s at this location so that the presence of the huge white tower would impose fear on any force approaching the City of London.
Stan and Ian spent a couple of hours touring a
few of the nearer golf courses. This tour together to grounds of high common interest brought Stan into a form of second heaven. They arrived home a little past noon. I had spent a bit of time doing some garden hedge trimming for Ian. Two months ago Ian had taken his 500cc Honda out for a spring ride. Moving slowly at the time, his front breaks seized and tossed he and the bike to the ground. This slightly damaged his ride and badly banged up his right knee. As a result, maintaining the rear garden has been impossible to do. The sun was warm and I enjoyed the small task.After a break for lunch Stan and I pondered the preparation of the brisket. Ian treated us to an explanation of the cricket match being shown on TV. The afternoon was spent lounging in the sun. We shared special stories from our work careers. Several uniquely British ales were the only real casualties of this most relaxing afternoon.
Stan’s brisket took longer than expected to cook. When Christine arrived for dinner at seven o’clock, we all began to ponder the reality of eating beef for dinner. It was eventually decided to have Patti and Christine travel out to bring back fish & chips. Meanwhile, the brisket cooked on. Tomorrow we will enjoy Stan’s reward, maybe. The fish was called Rock Salmon; a shark-like fish with a very nice taste.We enjoyed a special treat for breakfast with pancakes by Anne. We decided to do a non-tourist day today. Anne and Patti took on laundry, while Stan and I tackled the lawns and some more hedges. I told Ian I would like to just visit a typical pub and not be there to race through a pint, but rather, take some time and adsorb the ambiance of the pub and its patrons.
While I was completing a final bit of mowing in the corner by the clothes line, the mower’s electric motor started to run slower, and then blue smoke seeped from all seams. Nope, the blade’s not clogged. I pulled it back to the garage to have a closer look. It seemed to take a very long time for the motor to cool off. They must be built a lot like baked potatoes. Meanwhile, Stan found Ian’s weed whacker and started taking out the dandelions and other colorful non-green flora on the front lawn. We both agreed his work looked pretty good.
Anne created a shopping list to help restock
Ian’s cupboards. Ian, Stan and I left for the center of Tadley to collect the items at the market. With that short task completed, we stored the bags in the trunk and Ian led us across the street to a pub. At the pub, Ian walked in, stepped to the bar, turned around and led us back outside. He then opined bitterly over the fact that all of the fine ale taps were turned backwards. Neither Stan nor I had noticed, but this meant they had run out of ales and all they could offer were lagers.No worries. There were a dozen other pub choices in this small village. Ian selected the Calleva Arms. The Calleva Arms did not historically rival the inns we had recently visited, but it was a comfortable respite. We enjoyed a conversation while imbibing two rounds of ale. I tried both the HSB Premium Bitter and Seafarers Ale. Pubs and inns open and close for serving based on the license they hold and on the local traffic patterns of demand. Today I happened to be the last patron of the Calleva Arms to make the 3-o’clock exit. The Arms would stay closed until end-of-day traffic was predictably greater. Oh well, it had been nice.
We returned home just before Ian’s son, Allen, and his wife and young daughter drove up. The family was here to retrieve the caravan for a weekend of camping at a nearby children’s entertainment park. We gathered on the rear patio and visited under the warmth of the afternoon sun. In a short time I found myself dozing off. The Inn keeper at the Calleva Arms must have put something in my ale.Stan and Ian are both audiophiles of the 60s, 70s and 80s. Ian’s front room is setup with a top-of-the line stereo with surround sound – including speakers on top of the cabinets in the kitchen. He has, among others, a complete collection of the Beatles’ works. Stan discovered Ian’s copy of the Guinness World Records British Hit Singles. While cricket played in the background on the plasma flat screen, Ian and Stan tested each other’s memories of past artists. Stan checked the accuracy of the answers in the Guinness. The combined knowledge the two shared is near encyclopedic. The cricket had evolved to a near tie score between the two unknown teams. Only a couple of overs remained in the match. The wall clock chimed half past six. Ian turned the cricket off and informed the ladies we would return shortly. Apparently, we had a pre-brisket pub to visit.
Ian had retired from AWE, Atomic Weapon Establishment. He began his career there as an Engineer Apprentice. Ian worked his way through the training, which included drafting and design. One of AWE’s roles is as a key player in strengthening
England’s military defense posture. Stan retired from Sandia Labs in Albuquerque. It was in the common defense missions of America and England that Ian and Stan had met. Both establishments dealt with the design of defensive missile re-entry systems. Ian had counted some thirty trips to America before his retirement.AWE’s main facility is the primary employer in Tadley. This is the reason Ian bought into Tadley’s tranquil environs. Ian no longer holds a pass to enter AWE through the main gates. Tall double fences circle AWE’s massive grounds. The fences are topped with generous loops of razor wire. The automatic weapons of the guards are not strapped over the shoulders, but carried at an arms-rest position. The recreation fields and theater and pub are open to families of AWE workers and, as well in a limited way, to the public. Ian’s AWE retirement card found us some fine ale at AWE’s discounted rates. We soon found ourselves surrounded by a handful of Ian’s old workmates and friends.
Time was available for two pints and then we headed home for a dinner featuring Stan’s brisket. It turned out terrific! The ladies had prepared salad and potatoes to help fill our plates. The meat won the show. Knives were not a necessary utensil and the spicing was exactly right. I’m looking forward to some leftovers.
It’s Saturday morning, and Christine arrived around 10 o’clock. Today she was going to drive Anne and Patti to Basingstoke station to catch the 11am train to Southampton. At 2pm the group Queen is giving a performance. “Rock Me” was being hummed in the house since last night.
Ian drove Stan and me to Woolhampton. Woolhampton is a small village on the Kennet & Avon Canal. Built in the 18th century, the canal was a primary barge passage for restocking the midlands from either coast. There is approximately 150 feet of
elevation change from one end to the other, so there are many locks along the route. While we visited, there were three home barges which passed through the lock at Woolhampton. The Rowbarge is a pub on the banks of the canal that has been in service since 1720. The pub features a large lawn area with several picnic tables. The tables permit visitors to enjoy their pints in the sun while watching activities of the canal traffic.The lock passage roles of husband and wife was well defined on each of the house barges. The husband, aka pilot, would tie up at the bank below the lock, while the wife went ahead to ensure the lock was empty, and to open the gates. She would then return to the canal vehicle bridge. At the bridge, she activated a few buttons which dropped flag barrier bars on both sides of the canal and then swiftly swung the bridge parallel to the edge of the canal. With the bridge and canal now open, the
husband threw off the ties and quickly passed the boat into the open lock. The wife, in turn, re-opened the bridge to the backed up traffic and then hustled to the lock to close the lower gates. After the gates sealed the canal closed, she would go to the upper gates and use a hand crank to lift a small hatch at the bottom of the gates. With the hatches open, it was only a couple of minutes before the boat was floating at the upper canal elevation. The wife would then put her rump to a long leverage arm, push, and slowly swing one of the two gates open into the upper canal water. Now, she needed to walk to the closed lower gates, walk across the top of the closed gates to the other side of the canal and back to the second upper gate, where she repeated her rump pushing exercises. Once the boat was beyond the lock, the wife closed the upper gates, drained the lower lock for the next user, boarded her boat and continued the canal trip. Oh yes, don’t forget about the laundry, and how about some dinner soon.This procedure has been occurring multiple times daily for 300 years. With fine ale in hand, Stan and I walked the canal and watched the many steps that needed to be taken to traverse this 100 yard section of the canal. The visit to the Rowbarge Pub
was a special treat of good fortune.It was Sunday already, and we had to be packed and on the road to Heathrow by 0700. The M4 motorway was already bustling on this early blue skied Sunday morning. We had Googled SAS airlines and found them to be in Terminal 3. As we drew closer to Heathrow, road junctions became more frequent and course decisions had to be made rapidly. Ian and Christine were both old hats at terminal negotiation and we soon were stopped near the departure doors. There were quick hugs and goodbyes. We were off on the third leg of our Big Adventure.
Within a few minutes we had checked our luggage and received our boarding passes. Even on Sunday morning, Heathrow Terminal 3 was the definition of bipedal chaos. The gate for our 1020 flight to Oslo would not be posted until 0950. A nearby sign warned that some of the gates were a twenty minute walk from here. Typical assignment rules would dictate our gate to be at the extreme point on the terminal routing. We found some benches and began to wait and watch the overhead screen. Anne and I hip bumped our way through the crowds and past remodeling barriers to reach a nearby bookstore. There it was. Gate 11, wow, that wasn’t too bad.
Belts and coats off and pockets emptied, we queued for the security scans. The ladies had been a little ahead of Stan and me. We had been briefed by Ian on the higher cost of things in Norway. On the way through Heathrow we stumbled across a duty-free shopping area. Having similar very quick minds, we settled on a Famous Grouse twofer. Our inexpensive evening sipping medicine made it all the way to the x-ray machine in Oslo; where it rode fully exposed in a happy orange plastic tray. In a pseudo-declaration manner, Stan had removed the bottles from his backpack and laid them, in their duty free bag, in the tray.
The scanning line was brought to a quick halt while Stan and I decried, in our most appealing way, why these two duty-free bottles ought to pass through. I believe the agent may have initially assumed a moment of quick regret about losing them would pass across our faces, and we would move on. We didn’t move right along and the screening line was getting backed up. Some ear whispering happened behind the counter as we passed through the metal detector. Looking to the x-ray tunnel we saw that the happy orange tray was coming to us. In fact, this was the first security screen that did not rummage through my back pack. The ancient Norse gods may have been displaying a welcome to their fine country.
We arrived at Kristiansand around 1530 local. We were greeted by Andreas Falkenberg. Andreas and his wife, Joyce, would be our hosts for this week. Andreas and Joyce are both professors at Agder University. They are both in the Business Department. His focus specialty is International Business Ethics, while her work center is on
marketing. They and Patti had become close friends when the two families shared the same bank employer.Andreas is a Norwegian. He and Joyce met in Colorado where he and Iowan native were doing undergraduate work. Graduate study was done at the U. of O. With graduate work finished, they moved to Bergen, on the northwestern, North Sea coast of Norway. Between residences in America, Bergen and Kristiansand, they have raised four children.
Kristiansand is a city of around 80,000. It was established in 1620 as a trading
outpost by reigning King Kristian IV. The city is located on a fjord at the southern most hump of Norway. Fishing was the founding industry of Kristiansand.Gulls sweep back and forth over the water a few hundred yards below the slopes from the dining room windows. Homes rise on the tall banks – up and away from the inlet’s many moorage points. This evening Andreas barbequed salmon steaks, and accompanied them with boiled potatoes and cucumber salad for our dinner meal. Forgoing after dinner coffee, we took their two Mercedes vehicles to downtown Kristiansand. Andreas and Joyce guided us on a slow paced walking tour of the heart of the old village. Some of the streets served as amplifiers for the small breeze that blew continuously from the southern waters. The docks berthed a collection of pleasure and commercial craft. A few masts pointed skyward. As we strolled, we picked up on more of the ancient history of this sub-arctic section of the globe.
During dinner Professor Falkenberg described the nature of the economy base in Norway. Early dependence on fishing and trade developed an equality of risk and responsibility shared between command and crew. All shared in the day’s catch and the financial rewards. Base wages were thus gradually driven higher over the years. Today, minimum wage rides around $25US. Large portions of the nearly fully employed population are immigrant workers. Open borders have led to migrant influx issues, not unfamiliar to Americans. Large ethnic pockets within Oslo have led to racist and gang influenced problems. Ah, Home Sweet Home.
Andreas and Joyce were up early to meet their appointments at the university. Agder shares a student population of 10,000 between two campuses. Andreas and Joyce share office space in the business school block. The buildings are very modern, except for the barracks that were built by the Germans during their occupation of WWII. The northern coastline of Norway was a critical wartime route for shipping. It required nearly half a million Germans to hold the nation hostage. Norwegian resistance was strong.The family dog is Lesse. He is an eight year old Golden Retriever. Lesse is a friend to all of us and paces the seating circuit begging affectionate pats from each of us. Stan decided to leash Lesse and walk down to the beach near the docks. Lesse sniffed and marked the foliage and rocks every few meters, both to and from the water. We scouted the shoreline and climbed to the upper roads via new paths.
The homes all have tiled roofs with very steep pitches. Paint seems to come in just
three colors for the homes: brilliant white, reddish brown, and a golden-brown yellow. According to Andreas, the color chosen for the home depended on the style of its construction. It may take a bit of study to sort this out. Up and over the neighboring hill there is an ICA supermarket. Stan is going to prepare a shrimp/pasta with salad treat for us tonight. We needed supplies.Currently there are 5.46 Krona per dollar. The costs of goods are very expensive by our standard. Shrimp, for example, is 99kr per kilogram. This works out to $20/kilo
or, $9/pound. Norwegian ale cost 27.9kr/can or, just a spot over $5. Our simple stroll to the market netted a bill for 632kr, or $115. No worries. I’ll just put it on the Visa card.Stan’s shrimp and pasta meal was a treat. Patti put together a wonderful tossed salad. After dinner, Stan and I again walked the dog around the neighborhood. We were driven short on the track by the face chilling wind.
May 17th is Independence Day in Norway. Today it began at 0600. We are leaving early to drive up the western highway (E39) to Bergen. Andreas and Joyce have a mountain cabin a couple of hours inland from Bergen and they have planned an overnight on the way to celebrate Independence Day with friends in Bergen. Independence Day, or
Constitution Day, is May 17, 1812. That is the day when Norwegians declared they would govern themselves with a two level parliamentary structure, and from then on, the King and Queen would serve as Royal figure heads, only.We were slowed in several towns along the way. Schools were dismissed to march in a parades and to play in the bands. All men in the towns wore suits and ties and the women and children wore elaborately embroidered costumes which depicted their unique Norwegian heritage. The trip was also broken up by two short ferry boat rides across fjords. We took advantage of these spells to stretch and nibble on sandwiches we had crafted at breakfast. The trek along E39 was similar to the foothill highways in Oregon; perhaps a drive to the coast from Eugene. Low hills pressed the roadside and greenery was everywhere. The roads were mostly two way traffic, but sometimes there were double lanes. Regardless, it was always up, down, and around.
Norwegian engineers don’t want to scar the landscape. As a result, the fjords and mountains presented special challenges. Instead of blasting over and around hills, they went through them. Hopping from land to land over fjords using bridges, or more ferries, was deselected in favor of going under them. On the E39 we went through more than a dozen tunnels; most were flat and curved as they went through mountains, but some were descending and then climbing as they dove under fjords. The longest tunnel was over 8km long and at the lowest point there was nearly 300m of depth below the fjord above.
It was instant sleep when we returned to our Hotel Park room in Bergen. We had been invited by Joyce and Andreas to join them for a traditional celebration meal at their friend’s home in Bergen. There were four couples at the beautiful hillside home. One of each partner, like Andreas and Joyce, was Norwegian, the other was American; language was no barrier. We visited over slices of smoked meats, cheeses and bread. The new friends shared with us stories of Norway and Scandinavia, old and new.As we drove up the narrow hillside street to our hotel tonight, the sun shone low and diffused through distant fog hanging far off over the fjord. Now was chosen as the right time to start sprinkling while we fumbled our way past the card locked door to the hotel.
Bergen was founded by King Olaf Kyrre in 1070 A.D., and in the 13th century it became Norway’s first real capitol city. Until the 1830s Bergen was Norway’s largest city. For a period during the middle ages, Bergen was supreme over Scandinavia. Bergen had become a major European trading and seafaring port, and one of the
Hanseatic merchant’s most important trading centers. Today, Bergen boasts a population of over a quarter million. Trade and seafaring are still vital to its health, but add to that tourism and Norway’s North Sea oil and gas industries and Bergen remains a European activity hub. Bergen is also an important university city.
Our rooms are in the hotel annex. I walk across the street to the main building and feed on coffee, bread, and salted meats. This is an ok breakfast. I sliced and jellied three more toasts and took three cups of coffee back to the room. Anne enjoyed her snack in bed. Patti and Stan weren’t stirring yet. The bed had been comfortable and the rest good.
After breakfast we all walked down to the bottom of the hill. We watched ducks, pigeons and gulls battle for shoreline dominance. Anne and Patti found their shopping compasses and were off to discover. At noon Joyce, Andreas, Michael and Johann found us at the hotel. We walked through the heat of Bergen to find our coffee and pastry shop on the boardwalk beside the fjord. We were all collected once again to begin the short journey to the mountain cabin.
We drove east on E16 to the end of the fjord, through many tunnels to the city of Voss. At Voss we stocked up with what would be needed at the cabin. There were 30km yet to go and it was all on a hillside single lane road. Slow down and turn with caution. We were met by two cars as we wound our way to the Alp like snowline. Fat, rounded rock hills rose several thousand feet above us across the steep valley. The pine tree line drew itself a few hundred yards behind the cabin. Thinning snow fields formed a white on black mosaic defining the ridgeline against the shrouding gray-white of the edging cloud ceiling. The cabin was designed by Andreas. It is of storybook construction and is set atop a short plateau at the tree line on the eastern facing side of the hill.
I have never seen such massive displays of naked stone as was presented on the western wall of the fjord, and beside the lake south of Voss. The grandeur of the cliffs at Yosemite has been eclipsed. Andreas spoke of hang gliders sailing from the peaks, and dare devils with full side-body flying squirrel webbing leaping and diving to gliding speed from atop the vertical bluffs. Having descended to a
critical height over the valley, a parachute is released and the squirrel floats to the ground.
The cabin has a sizeable, but low ceilinged loft which is a bedroom and sitting room for our hosts. Anne and I are assigned to Blue room, and Patti and Stan are in the Red room. Joyce gives us a bag with sheets and room color matched toweling. The width of the room is sleeping length for the bunks Andreas built. The widths of the red and blue rooms, together, define the resulting dimensions of the entry hallway. There is space in the bedroom for one busy person only. Anne volunteered to make up the beds.
While we acclimated to our new abode, Joyce prepared a vegetable and fish stew for dinner. The stove was lit and we became comfortably warm – just in time for dinner. After dinner it was time to play cards. Stan and I sat back and watched the battle lines get drawn.
The bunk bed was snug and warm. There is no recollection of either waiting for sleep to come or of dream adventures during the night. The closing of the snuggly fitted thick wood doors, which lead to the rear porch, awakened me as s someone left to use the toilet. It was difficult to guess the time of day from the small amount of light which seeped past the window curtain. The light may have been a bit more intense than the luminosity that highlighted the exposed patches of stone on the Holstein patterned slopes when I retired at 10 o’clock last night. I was too sleepy to try to get up. Pattering on the wood floors and some muted conversation alerted me to a small morning crowd forming in the living room. Breakfast preparation was already underway. Joyce was setting out a sliced bread, cheese and smoked salmon treat to begin our day.
Anne, Patti and I stayed at the cabin. Stan, Johann, Joyce and Andreas ventured out for a hike up the side of a nearby mountain. The wind was urging them along as they carefully chose their footing on the snow covered sections of the steep graveled drive. Pages were read and some naps were taken as we awaited the trekker’s return. Boots were exchanged for slippers at the door, and coats and hats were re-hung. Soon the exhilaration of the outdoor adventure was traded for laughter and playful jabs over games at the large, handmade, pine dining room table.
Andreas prepared a most filling meal of steak, potatoes and tossed salad. A specially favored choclet treat was served for desert. After dinner, packing was begun in readiness of an early morning departure to meet the cross country train at the Voss station. From the comfort of a mountainside cabin, at the end of the road, in a faraway place, we were headed for Oslo.
Friday morning the 907 to Oslo departed Voss on the minute. We were ticketed in Car 6. Spacious windows beside tall back seats gave us a comfortable vista of the changing countryside. The forward half of Car 6 has a food bar. The sweet scent of cinnamon rolls floated to the back with each opening of the automatic compartment doors.
Finse is at 1222m elevation. It is a small town at the highest stop on our route. Finse is located on a broad snow packed saddle having no apparent visible reason for existing. Train speeds to this point ran between 60 and 80kph.Once through the Finse tunnel, speeds will pick up to 160kph. The tunnel stretches for 10.3k.
A chili and cheese hotdog hit the spot. Cost for the luncheon fare was only 59 krona (~$10). After Finse came Ustaoset at 996m. The passing lakes are thawed and the occasional trees are displaying a few buds. We passed through six more villages on the leeward side of the mountains. By the time we had reached Lysaker, at 13m, The forests are full with 8” diameter pine, spruce and fir. White barked birch is sprinkled in at the openings, and along the rivers and lake shores.
Coming out of Liertunnelen, with a length of 10.7k, we were placed in a holding pattern as we approached our final stop; not unlike rush hour at a busy airport. The train crept into Oslo S. Train Station. The train station seems to be the hub of the city. Eight tracks, from the span of Norway, begin or end beneath the shelter of this enormous terminal. Norway has a small population, a bit over five million. When we stepped down to the platform, from the quiet and comfort of our Car #6, I believe half of Norway was suddenly beside us. Just keep your eyes on the low bobbing patch of white that is darting about in front of you. Anne will find our way to the exit.
We followed the Way Out signs to the west. There appeared to be no other options. Escalators took us down a flight, past shops, to the entry doors. The terminal also serves as a combination train, tram, and bus system shopping center. Steps fanned down and away from the plaza at the door level. Trams and busses circled this large re-distribution area. Stan and I sat on the steps for a few minutes while the ladies re-entered the station to buy train tickets for our Sunday return to Kristiansand. We had originally planned on taking a bus south, but we all elected the comfort of the train over the bus option.
Very similar to the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, Karl Johans Gate (street) leads from
the plaza to the Royal palace. Halfway to the palace, at the crest of the gently rising hill, sits the Parliament building. The street is two lanes wide and built entirely of bricks set on ends in a repeating fan pattern. No vehicles are permitted on this length of the street. Our reservations are at the Rica Victoria Hotel on Rosenkrantz Gate, just beyond the Parliament building. Stores, restaurants, and pubs offer a world wide selection of experiences for the bipedal traveler.From a distance, the crowd on Johans Gate appeared as a gently waving ribbon fluttering between the continuous walls of the street side buildings. Every now and then, we passed a beggar sitting politely behind a paper cup. One man sat with his right pat leg pulled up, exposing a leg of just bone and skin. Not far away was a musician playing a beautiful song on a violin. We passed a didgeridoo player who was accompanied by a beat thumping drummer. A man sat on a box and blew jazz from a tenor sax. Costumed men painted in silver or gold stood as frozen mimes on boxes that blended in a uni-color theme.
Rica Victoria is a modern hotel and we found our sixth floor rooms very comfortable.
After unpacking, we gathered in Patti and Stan’s room and exchanged ideas for Saturday’s activities. On and off during our talk, Stan and I pondered the pending predicament of being without an evening beer. It was decided. Anne and Patti visited while Stan and I retraced Johans Gate in search of the ICA market said to be in the area. We stopped outside a sidewalk pub and asked a lady if she knew of the market. She could offer no assistance regarding the store, but she did share that her large pint of ale had cost her 89kr. Further down the Gate we stepped into a Scottish pub. This pub featured the ambiance we had found in Edinburgh. A pint at this stop would cost only 55kr. Boy, the lady up the street was getting ripped. The respective costs, in dollars, were: $18.90 and $10.00. We would have none of this malted foolery.We had finally reached the train station. Searching the 2nd floor shops, we found a small market that sold cans of chilled ale and pilsner. We left with some bargains in brew and a diet soda for Anne. We giggled all the way back to the hotel with the ironic satisfaction that we had acquired our beer with such savings over street costs. Our half liter tins had cost us only $5 each. Wow! It was too late to sit for dinner, so Anne, Stan and I walked to a McDonalds. My choice was a chicken sandwich. Back at the room it was time for a shower and bed.
We met at 1000 for complimentary breakfast in the hotel. A normal hotel meal might be cereal, toast, and juice with coffee. This second floor food suite opened to a
connoisseur’s bonanza. The meal would have cost us several hundred krona on the Oslo streets. We all went back for seconds.The hop on, hop off double decker city tour busses had a stop a block from the hotel. The all day tickets let us ride, listen to audio about highlights of the city, and get off when something grabbed our interest. The first foot tour was at the Norsk Folke Museum. Indoor and outside displays took one from early Norse and Sami (Lapp) histories to farming homes of the mid-20th century.
We walked the seventy five acre Vigeland Park. Oslo dedicated this parkland to honor Gusrav Vigeland, Norway’s most notable sculpture artist. The park is the permanent home to 227 granite and bronze sculptures by Vigeland. A bronze statue stands at the main entrance to this 24/7 open and free park. Gusrav is fully clothed in this rendition of his 1896 standing posture.
Vigeland’s life size figures depict all aspects of human emotion and age. Men, women, and children interplay in often contorted positions. All are displayed au-natural. Affection, hostility, love, and family warmth were all social subjects for Vigeland’s work. This is one of Norway’s most visited attractions. We all left this day feeling we knew the reason why. The sky was occasionally broken and it was not an uncomfortable day to be outdoors in such a creative park. The visual experience is hard to put into words, but when in Oslo, visit Vigeland Park.
Scandinavia is synonymous with the Norsemen and Viking ships. Vikings sailed the Mediterranean, Iceland, Greenland, and further south. The 30-man shallow craft were equipped with a square sail and oars. Exposure to the air and north Atlantic Sea sprays on a day and night basis must have been the definition of hell on water. We visited the Viking Ship Museum and discovered many new things about this seafaring culture. The discovery of buried funeral ships and other artifacts has established
the Vikings may have been on their discovery missions for a relatively short period of time. Their main historic voyages occurred between 800 and 1050 A.D. The museum dealt mainly with the burial customs of the Vikings. Burial sleds and wagons were intricately carved wooden masterpieces dedicated to the honor of the deceased. Figurine details would best be appreciated if one examined them with a magnifying glass.This evening we strolled the boardwalk and checked out the many Oslo Fjord restaurants. Finding one, we settled in for a treat as a going away meal in Oslo. We knew the bill would be high, but we were worth it. Satiated, we faced the music. The tab came to a bit over 1680kr; that’s roughly $305. We enjoyed it and we can look back on the experience and say that we lived high once, and we had met the hog head on.
The Akershus Fortress stands on a hill at the end of the Oslo Fjord. Constructed in medieval days its ramparts and canons fed the development of Norway’s capitol city. Today, the fortress hosts many administration functions and serves as a military training school. From the top of the massive, high stone walls one tower over a harbor of powerboats and ancient three masters. After the morning tour we had an opportunity to relax in the hotel lobby. While there, we enjoyed tea and a round of Banana Grams. At 1330 we hefted our backpacks and began our walk to the central train station at the end of Johans Gate.The Sunday midday traffic on the street was much less than before. However, many of the same musicians and mimes were occupying their same domains. Would train would leave in an hour. The trip to Kristiansand to the south will take over four hours. Anne has found us some baguettes and soda to stay off the hunger till our promised
meal at around nine tonight.It is beautiful overlooking the calm water of the fjord at Kristiansand this morning. A fog bank, low and to the south, draws a crisp line in the bright blue sky. Sea gulls swoop in large arcs over the still shadowed docks that extend the shores where the hills meet the sea.
Andreas was eagerly waiting when the train pulled to the station at ten to eight. He and Joyce had each driven home from Voss after we had left for Oslo. Andreas had felt the tedium following eight hours on the snaky mountain roads. He and Joyce got to rest just once while on their single ferry passage of the trip. They have prepared a welcome back feast for our arrival; roast leg of lamb, potatoes with a tasty mushroom sauce, and a mixed vegetable salad. Coffee, served with strawberry topped cream cake, capped off the meal.
We took both cars to the airport after lunch. Today’s trip to Edinburgh would take us to Oslo, then to Copenhagen, and finally to our European departure point from Scotland. It is less convenient to return to Edinburgh, but airline tickets seem to be less costly when you fly roundtrip, to and from original destinations. The flight to Copenhagen landed a few minutes ahead of time. We cleared passport control quickly and located our flight at Gate C15. We had reached half an hour until boarding and we were told the flight had been delayed due to high winds at Edinburgh. Gusts over 60mph were reported. The counter clerk told us to keep an eye on the departure boards for an update. The SAS plane had a slot scheduled for midnight, but one may open sooner. We retreated upstairs to the food court, bought drinks and dug out the Skip-Bo deck. It may be a wait of more than three hours. Trying to cover all bases, Stan located a nearby dining area that had closed already, but it had large, soft sofa benches that we may need to use to nap on. We heard the announcement calling for an immediate boarding of our flight.
All of us were concerned that the Airport Travel Lodge may not have held our reservations due to our late arrival. After check-in, Stan and I visited in the breakfast/pub area near the front desk. The large pint of Stella was served by John, the receptionist. Ah, only £3 40p, we’ve returned to near civilization. We needed this respite after the evening’s uncertainties. We had departed Copenhagen at 2230. Winds over Scotland had died sufficiently. Ash from the Iceland volcano is expected to begin hitting the UK by tomorrow. We had reached our motel by 0030. Stan and I were both past ready for a nice brew. An inquisitive Scot asked where we were from. This question led to another pint while we learned that, at 55, he was a retired North Shore oil worker. He and his wife live in Inverness and that since his teen years he has been hooked on Scottish football. For many years Donald has been traveling worldwide to watch the national team play. In the morning they are scheduled to catch up with the team in Dublin. With the ash expected, I suspect they will be watching the match on the tellie.
Later today, all flights out of Edinburgh had been cancelled. The skies looked clear and the winds were strong, but steady. Speculation was rampant. Was it the ash, or the Obama? Due to the ash threat, the President had called the visit to Dublin short so he could beat the ash to London. While the President is traveling, the airspace he flies through becomes closed for a period to other traffic. We had wondered if our delayed departure last night had really been due to high winds. All eyes are on the news channels searching for updated information about how the pending ash clouds may be wrecking our flight plans tomorrow.
We had toured Edinburgh and we were in a holding pattern until tomorrow. Anne and Stan share mutual entertainment in occasional visits to one-arm bandits at the casinos. They had already decided how they were going to make the day’s hours fly by. With help from the receptionist, they had located a casino and had ordered a taxi. While they were gone, Patti rested, and I carried on with some reading on Cosmology.
In a few hours the purveyors of gaiety and the fast life returned. The report is they were the only two in a casino that offered only a few slot machines. True to his luck with games of chance, Stan hit a bonus round that had led to seventy five free pulls. He walked away with over £100. Anne hadn’t reported on any triumphs, or failures.
One o’clock was here, and we were hungry. A well stocked market was a block away. baguette sandwiches and meat pies were going to be entrée choices. Crisp chips, cookies, and pint tins of Stella finished off our mid-day feast. Skip-Bo challenges were cast. Stan retired for a rest and I showered and re-packed. I rechecked the internet for information on our Air France flight to Paris tomorrow at 0620. There was no indication it had been cancelled. The Scottish weather folks are saying the volcano’s cloud may move over Great Britain; unless it is a moderate to thick covering, airlines can fly at their option. Here’s hoping. This evening we will toast the sights we have seen and the new friends we have made. Oh, yes. The market also had a nice selection of wines.
It is 0430 already on the morning of May 25, 2011. Anne and I have reserved a taxi to get us to the airport by 0500. We had spent our last pound notes, so I had borrowed £20 from Stan’s casino winnings; £10 to get us to the airport, and £10 to bring us back if the flight is cancelled. I had arranged with the Lodge reception to hold our room until noon, just in case.
Well, the gods of Anne’s casino visit were with us this morning. The flight to Paris was cancelled. We went to the Air France service desk and got re-routed on a 6 o’clock flight to Copenhagen via KLM. We would spend the night in Copenhagen on KLM’s tab, and then fly KLM to San Francisco in the morning, followed by a United trip to Medford in the evening. KLM and Air France have done this sort of thing before. After passport clearance and bag collection, we were directed to the KLM service desk in the Copenhagen airport. There was a long line of re-routed passengers waiting to pick up their promised chits for tonight’s lodging. We were assigned to Hotel Schiphol A4 and the hotel shuttle will meet us at the bus pickup point A9-13, outside. With our night’s stay, we received a voucher for dinner and breakfast. The sky was still light when we got to the hotel around ten o’clock. We were checked into room 726, a four bed suite. The dining room was closing in fifteen minutes, so we dragged our bags to the buffet line.
The morning bus collected us at 0800 for our 0930 flight to California. Boy, did we not look forward to this monster leg in crowded Economy seats. Darkness never came as we crossed the Atlantic and the North American continent. The KLM craft was just chasing the morning sun. Eleven hours and three meals later, we landed in San Francisco late in the morning. There was a 2 o’clock flight to Medford, if we could catch it on a standby basis. This would save us an additional five hours of waiting for our scheduled flight. We made it. Rob and Anne’s Great 2011 European Adventure ended a little past three in the afternoon at Medford Jackson County International Airport.
