Posts Tagged ‘Bath’

Ireland/Britain 1998 day 32: Bath/Cheddar/Wells/London

I pushed the boundaries of traveling on 21 February 1998 and became a 24-hour tourist.

I checked out of the Bath hostel and went to the bus station to purchase a Day Rambler pass on Badgerline. Then I checked my bags at left luggage only to learn that I’d need to be back by 5:30 pm if I wished to retrieve them. This would make things tight for reaching all three destinations I wished to visit that day: Cheddar Gorge, Wells, and Glastonbury. In retrospect, I should have just asked the hostel to hold my bags.

Cheddar is the biggest gorge in Britain which lends its name to the world’s most popular cheese. This was something of a cheese pilgrimage for me. First I climbed up a set of stairs called Jacob’s Ladder to the to the cliff walk over the gorge. The stairs were marked off with each step representing a geologic era. Humanity only appears on the last step from the top. I walked along the footpath for a bit and took in some lovely views. I chatted with some mountain bikers who were walking their bikes up the hill and making self-deprecating jokes about it.

The village in Cheddar Gorge is full of cheesy attractions (in both senses of the word), but unfortunately the cheese-making facilities were not open this day. The cheese-vending facilities, however, were operational and I bought a wedge of aged blue-veined cheddar. Sadly I missed the bus to Wells by just a few minutes and found myself wandering around this Gatlinburg of England for another hour. It also eliminated any chance of getting to Glastonbury that day.

Wells is a small city with a huge cathedral. The blue skies, dark clouds, the madding pealing of the bells, and the soaring towers of Wells Cathedral combined for a spiritually enlightening experience. The other main site in Wells is Vicar’s Close the oldest intact street in Europe. A line-up of charming houses with their chimneys all in a row. I took a break by the canal of Bishop’s Palace and watched people feed the birds. I was thoroughly charmed by Wells and did not want to leave. Perhaps it was good I didn’t have to rush off to another town.

I returned to Bath, picked up my bags, and boarded a train to Winchester. I planned to stay overnight in Winchester, visit Winchester Cathedral in the morning, and then take the train to London to meet my Eurostar train to Paris the next afternoon. At Winchester station, I decided to call the hostel, and learned that they were not open for individuals, just groups at this time of year. So I boarded the train again, and decided I’d have an adventure and sleep in the train station in London.

At London Waterloo International Station I dropped my big bag off at the high-tech security left luggage station. Then I followed signs out of the station to Westminster Bridge. After walking through a series of confusing “subways,” I walked up a staircase and right before my eyes was the famous tower and clock faces of Palace of Westminster. I crossed over the Thames and spontaneously decided to walk along the riverside path to the Tower Bridge. It was a long walk, but I had a real “wow I’m in London” experience seeing St. Paul’s, the Tower of London, and other sights along the path. After crossing the bridge, I walked back along the south bank and arrived in time to hear Big Ben bong.

Back at Waterloo, sleep wasn’t coming to me. The benches had fixed armrests which made it impossible to lay down. There also was a loud family of Chicagoans who were oblivious that people were trying to sleep, including the young French woman who starred daggers at them. I ended up befriending the college-aged son, partly to save them from the French woman’s wrath (which they deserved) and partly because company is company.

In the wee hours, Glenn and I went for a sightseeing walk around London. I can’t say I’ve ever gone out at 4:30 in the morning in a new city to take pictures before or since. Glenn was one of those charming people who ended every sentence with the words “and shit.” He also mistook several buildings for Buckingham Palace including the Victoria Coach Station. We never did find the actual palace.

We returned to Waterloo where Glenn & family boarded the first train to Paris. I of course hadn’t planned to be in London in the morning, so I had several more hours to try to sleep in the railway station.

Gorge Path

Bounding along the cliffs over Cheddar Gorge.

Cheddar Waterfall

A waterfall in Cheddar Village. In my Willy Wonka vision of Cheddar, this waterfall would be pure cheese.

Wells Cathedral

Wells Cathedral.

Ireland/Britain 1998 day 31: Bath/Salisbury/Westbury

On the sober morning of 20 February 1998, I took the train from Oxford to Bath. I’d originally planned on staying in Bath, and since by necessity I’d returned to my original plans I checked into the funky Bath International Backpackers Hostel. From Bath I took the train to Salisbury. I didn’t have the time to make a trip out to Stonehenge as I thought I’d might, but that was low on my priorities. Instead I strolled around Salisbury which had some charming streets but mostly reminded me of my childhood hometown of Stamford, CT (if you’ve never been there think of uninspired suburban corporate architecture).

My main site for the day was Salisbury Cathedral with its soaring spire. I spent the better part of the day exploring this 700-year old edifice. On the return train to Bath, I noticed a giant white horse of chalk on the hillside outside the train. I spontaneously decided to get off at the town of Westbury and check out this White Horse. I wandered through the cute town center and then along some public footpaths that cut right through people’s property and got a somewhat closer glimpse of the White Horse. My act of spontaneity was not too rewarding but I did get some fresh air and exercise.

Back in Bath, I laundered my clothing in the basement and after slipping into some clean, fresh-scented clothing I returned to my dorm room. All the dorms were named for musical genres, my being Rock, with my bed named Pink Floyd. En route I passed the misspelled Heavy Mental room where five American students from Bucknell Universitywere drinking wine from plastic cups and climbing out their window onto their “balcony” (in fact, the roof). They invited me to join them so I climbed out and helped them take many, many pictures.

Since I had a whole day’s advantage on them in Bath, and love playing tour guide, I ended up showing them around. At first I enjoyed the company, but I soon grew to be weary of my American companions who continued to drink wine as the strolled the streets, took innumerable photos in the dark, and were rude to pretty much everyone we encountered. In other words, UA’s pure & simple, and I didn’t want to be associated. So I led them back to the hostel and then went to Schwartz Brothers and stuffed my face with veggie burgers and chips. Not too exciting but it’s what I did.

Salisbury Cloister

In the cloister of Salisbury Cathedral.

White Horse

The White Horse on the hillside.

Ireland/Britain 1998 day 30: Oxford/Bath

I’d not intended to visit Oxford at all, but couldn’t turn down the free lodging, so I used it as my base to visit Bath and environs. That was the plan anyhow and on 19 February 1998 I took the train to Bath. Despite a late start, I had plenty of time to take in the sites. The city was a site in of itself with its stone Neoclassical architecture. I found myself slowing down just to take it all in.

I first visited the Roman Baths Museum, a place I wanted to visit ever since I read about it in my grandfather’s Reader’s Digest guide when I was a kid. The baths fulfilled my expectations and then some with it’s great archaeological and architectural wonders. Upstairs in the Victorian splendor of the Pump House I drank a glass of the Bath Spa water. It actually tasted pretty good, basically warm water with a strong mineral flavor. I actually felt quite peppy after imbibing it and headed out to tour the city of Bath.

I visited Bath Abbey with it’s West Front covered with carvings of angels ascending and descending ladders, one angel in a full nose dive. Then I walked by the Georgian architectural marvels of the Circus and the Royal Crescent. At the Bath Museum of Costume I enjoy an exhibit of waistcoats throughout the ages and see some I’d look good in (remember I was working at Colonial Williamsburg at the time), but 99.8% of the clothing on display were women’s garments, so there wasn’t much for me. In the adjacent Assembly Rooms I saw the familiar Allen Ramsay portraits of George III and Charlotte. The most beautiful sight of all in Bath is the Pulteney Bridge which doesn’t seem like a bridge at all when crossing it because it’s lined with shop fronts, but from the river one could see its graceful arches with water pouring through it into cascades.

Returning to Billy’s dorm room, I found a note from him telling me how awful my stuff smells. It was true that I had not had the opportunity to visit a laundromat for some time. Still I felt embarrassed and insulted. In retrospect, I overreacted and packed up all my stinky belongings and checked into Oxford Backpackers Hostel for the night. It was a bum ending to a good stay in Oxford.

Roman Baths

Newport the Otter prepares for a soak at the Roman Baths.

Bath Abbey

Angels go up and down on the West Front of Bath Abbey.

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