ā¦.Well, The Solent
The first leg is back into London but before that, a few words about last evening. As the whole Heathrow thing is on the recommendation of the worldās most seasoned traveller (and I bare exaggerate), I followed Nickās advice to the letter and went to The Pheasant for dinner. Iāve been there a long time in the past so thought I knew what to expect. I was wrong – the place is a food factory! Good food and very generous portions, I have to stress, and the very definition of you get what you pay for. I canāt begin to imagine heat this place turns over each day. I was seated close to the food order point and I can say that with drinks there will be no one paying g lads that Ā£30 a head – mostly a lot more. Thatās business and good luck to them. My inevitable burger was very good and was served with a mountain of chips, garnish and assorted accoutrements it went down well. The pint of fizz at Ā£6.40/pt, not so much šµ Not that they need advice from me, clearly, but some decent beer would improve their offering no end.
Breakfast this morning was prepaid in the room rate and was most satisfactory. A help yourself cooked breakfast buffet always sets you up for the day.
Knowing what I was doing a bit better, the wait for the 278 bus was brief and the journey swift. Enough time to send Jim a snap of me occupying his Special Seat.
Art a busy Hayes and Harlington station (obviously, it was 08:30 on a weekday!) Indi battle with the ticket machine to collect my pre booked ticket to Portsmouth. No QR codes or e-tickets here – I suppose because theyāve gone all-in on contactless with their gate line infrastructure?
Down on the platform there was a crush waiting for the next Elizabeth Line service which was delayed. When it arrived it was already jammed full but most of the hardy souls waiting at Hayes and Harlington pushed on. Maybe about 10% like me decided against such folly and waited. We were rewarded by a virtually empty nine car following the tail lamps of the preceding g service. As I type this the service has filled up and is pretty much full – but I have my seat so donāt care so much! Jack.
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A little housekeeping note: If you are gracious enough (some might say masochistic) to subscribe to my ramblings and you get a notification that tI have posted a new blog. Please check back on each post regularly as I plan to update each dayās account as I go along. Not exactly a ālive blogā, but regularly refreshed (with typos corrected!). Thatās the plan.
Waterloo
My brief encounter with the London rush hour went as painlessly as I could’ve have hoped. I even acted like a local by helping a lost tourist at Tottenham Court Road asking how he was supposed to get to Waterloo. I didnāt let on that Iād just looked at the Tube Map myself as thatās exactly what I am doing of course! He went away very happy convinced by my confidence in what I spoke of. I could have gone street level at Tottenham Court Road and in retrospect I regret not doing so. I imagined I would find plenty to look at around Waterloo but I discovered to my chagrin that I was conflating Waterloo with the area around Victoria ā the two could not be more contrasting in my limited experience.
The first big problem with Waterloo is how to get out of the place. The exit signs don’t make it clear that you have to go down a level, the signage instead emphasising that it’s the way to the Jubilee Line instead. Exiting the huge concourse from platform level just takes the unwitting provincial out into smokersā Hell and then the taxi rankā¦ with a fruitless circular walk back onto the concourse. When I eventually made it out onto the street I wasnāt much better off, finding myself in a maze of archways and bus stops. I eventually found the South Bank Centre and had a stroll alongside the Thames.
Refreshed by a cold drink from a ubiquitous Pret A Manger (I always wonder how many thousands of this outlet there are in London?), I went in search of some coffee. I headed for the Starbucks at the back of County Hall but found it a zoo. Instead I decided to cut my losses and head back to Waterloo station …and my nightmare continued. Thereās a sign for the station entrance which actually turns out to be the taxi approach road taking the unwary pedestrian through a tunnel with a narrow pavement which reeks of piss, before a walk along(seemingly) Ā the length of the platforms to the back door. After all that I was most relieved to find the Starbucks on the station not only was queue-less, but it had Pike Place on tap and a spacious (āhiddenā) seating area upstairs, where I sit typing with 40 mins before my train.
Embarkation Ahoy!
(Yes, I know, the nautical references are getting sillier)
Well that was a most enjoyable saunter through the stockbroker belt and, especially, the idyll of rural Hampshire. The beginning of the journey out of Waterloo was a little tedious as, so a PA announcement told us later, there had been a “signalling issue at Clapham Junctionā ā Reggie Perrin eat your heart out. Whatever it was, we were mucked about a bit and while we Ā never actually came to a stand, I think we went slow lines for a while when we should have been Right Away for Woking. Whatever it was, we were progressively delayed having lost our path and ended up 23 min late at Portsmouth. From a purely selfish point of view that was no matter; I am booked on the 14:15 sailing, deliberately giving me some wiggle room. There was a guy a few seats back from me on the Ā London train who (I gleaned form his several less-than-private phone calls) was due on the 13:15 sailing and was meeting someone at Ryde at 13:30. He wasnāt so sanguine about the situation.
Arriving at Portsmouth Harbour I lingered on the station a little while before heading down to the Wight Link terminal. I had to wait a while at the check in as a guy in front of me was arguing until he was blue in the face that his āall inclusive ticketā was valid, ā despite the patient clerk repeatedly pointing out it was a train ticket to Portsmouth & Southsea (the previous station) and then HoverSpeed to Ryde (ie. a completely different company which departs from about a mile and a half away). I now have the dubious privilege of having him sitting opposite me with his ancient flip phone (with its very loud bleep for every button he presses) and his conversation with whomever he is visiting, telling them itās alll someone elseās fault he has now had to pay Ā£40 to get on the 14:15 sailing. Some folk.
Thereās a cafe here but I donāt think I will bother. I took the precaution of grabbing a sandwich from M&S at Waterloo and ā thanks to the large breakfast ā resisted opening that until departing Haselmere, purposely calculated as half an put from Portsmouth. Such precision planning. Talking of planning, I now need to give some thought to my afternoon. Check in at the Travelodge is 15:00, so I think that’s about right for a walk there to drop my bag and take it from there.
Speaking of accommodation, a brief text exchange with Nick earlier reminded me I hadnāt really said anything about last nightās digs. Not a lot to comment on in all honesty,, but what I do have to Ā say about it is all positive. I was in a ground floor room airport side (damn good sound proofing though!) with the fully expected really comfy bed. (But, after Ā 25K steps and 13 miles walked yesterday, Iād have slept soundly on a plank!) The place is what I imagine to be completely normal: Ā a Ā quiet calm of people coming and going, the huge lobby area an eclectic mix of people in transit mixed in with the obligatory gaggles of aircrew. Everyone one has a story, no doubt! I doubt many there this morning were travelling Heathrow to the Isle of Wight though?
Boatās in and sailing Ā in ten minutes…
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IOW: Well Impressed
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I was going to say, āWhat People Donāt Tell You About The Isle of Wightā¦.ā, but then realised, actually, Iāve never asked, so this is on me in total ignorance. The strongest first impression of the Island, I have to say, is how bloody hilly it is! Granted, I admit again I have never really considered its topography before, but I was hit straight away while finding the Travellodge. The clues were all there; the address being Lind Hill, for a start!
First, back to the ferry crossing briefly: we were delayed a little in departing by a tug bringing a pretty sizeable drilling platform into the harbour basically stoping the job in doing so. This meant that as we left our mooring, so too was the Wight Link car ferry just ahead of us. This was made all the more obvious by the chorus of car alarms beeping and squealing from the vehicle deck! The crossing was spent on the aptly termed Sun Deck – the sunglasses being pressed into service for the first time this trip.
Disembarking from the ferry on tāother side, I elected to walk along Ryde Pier to the Esplanade, saving the joy of the rail trip for later, or tomorrow. Though gorgeously hot, my bag was weighing heavily on my shoulder and my jacket less and less appropriate for the conditions. At the Esplanade I sat a brief while and waved at the webcam (sad that I am) the viewing of which has been part of my morning routine for many years (along with the one at Ribblehead ā I like to check out the conditions around the country). I set off to find the hotel and quickly learned how steep the High Street at Ryde is. The gradient aside, first impressions were mixed ; the shops are wonderfully eclectic and, importantly,, active. Very few national chains, bookies, vape shops, tattoo parlours, nail bars or charity shops. A refreshingly healthy retail scene. Om the other hand, I quickly took a little bit of a dim view of my fellow tourists occupying the pavementsā¦ āblissful ignoranceā seems the prevailing attitude.
Having (eventually) found the Travelodge tucked away down an alley off a side street (not in itself a bad thing), and successfully checked in, bag dropped, freshen-up etc. I was back out to enjoy the afternoon. As I mentioned earlier, this afternoon and tomorrow are both blank canvases. As I descended the High Street I saw a train coming off the pier, so that meant Iād be kicking my heels for 45 mins if I was to think of a train ride this afternoon. I then Ā considered a bus south to Shanklin and/or Ventnor, with the train back. Consequently, having got to the Transport Interchange I set about buying and activating my Southern Vectis two-day passā¦ and watching the Shanklin bus depart as I did so! All of which was actually for the best ā that can all be tomorrowās adventure.
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So the No.9 bus to Newport beckoned. It perhaps pre-empts my narrative a little when I say at this point how fantastic the Southern Vectis bus service is. Generally all double deckers, 15-minute frequency to each of the population centres well into the evening and still pretty frequent late at night. The flexibility (and lack of worry about getting stranded) this presents is phenomenal. Though as Iām in Cowes as I type this ā Ā a long way from the hotel ā I really hope those words donāt come back to bite me!
The ride (in Jimās seat, of course) across to Newport was thoroughly enjoyable. I guess had it been anywhere else in the UK I would have considered it perfectly normal and, maybe, even average. However, this is the Isle of Wight and Iām here to explore, so the vantage point was perfect. It was on arrival at Newportās bus station that the comprehensive nature of the bus service really struck me. As lovely as Newport appears, I decided to keep on the move and jumped on the No.1 for Cowes ā another twin-deck, another front seatā¦ Iām such a kid!). This was a little busier, both in terms of passengers and traffic it had to contend with, but it was getting toward 17:00. It took me past Parkhurst (now more sanitised as H.M.P. I.O.W.) ā another classic British āinstitutionā!
I was deposited at the tiny bus station, more prominently occupied by M&S Food Hall, where a blue plaque proudly informed me this was the site of Cowes Railway Station. Once again I confess to my ignorance of the detail; I knew the island once had a modest network of railway lines with just the one (and the heritage steam railway surviving). But I know so little of the story.
A walk along the really charming shopping street of Cowes was enjoyable. The shops were closing but there was still plenty of activity. Several pubs boasted of their real ale credentials and I was becoming increasingly tempted. A slight initial frustration was knowing the Solent and Cowes harbour lay just beyond the buildings but no real access was available, nor any viewpoints. I eventually found my way down to the Esplanade where I sit now, on the terrace of The Globe with a pint of Sunny Sailor by my side, bashing put my thoughts to share with youā¦ It has tried to spot with rain while Iāve been here but thankfully hasnāt got itself organised at all. The view is stunning from hereā¦ locally across to East Cowes, across the Solent to Southampton on my left and Portsmouth to the right. The Red Funnel ferries pass right in front of where I sit and a huge cruise liner out of Southampton tip-toed gingerly along the Solentā¦. Itās a wide expanse of water but this thing barely seemed to fit!
All I have to do now is get back to Ryde at some point ā but thanks to Southern Vectis, I am very confident on that point.
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London. Sitting in window of the Starbucks on Euston Road, looking across two the Briths Library with a steaming mug off Pike Place and a blueberry muffin in front of me, as well as a day of mooching around London to look forward to. It was a slightly strange journey south or so it seemed. As well as the defective galley on the set, despite having nothing in front of us the whole way, it seemed a very on/off journey with our driver seemingly throwing the brake in frequently resulting in a markedly less-than-smooth ride. Still, we were early at St.Pancras and inevitably sat at WH200 awaiting a platform. I wandered out of the station fairly quickly, stopping only to pay my respects to Sir John. Across the road and into the Starbucks which, perhaps poetically, had been my final calling point last time. Clearly well versed in dealing with a wide range of customers from all points of the compass, the staff here are remarkable for their friendliness and efficiency. I may be on holiday but itās Monday which is catch-up-on-email-day. so Iām in the perfect placed.
Are We There Yet 