Saturday Touring in London

What a long weekend. Working in London for any length of time also requires staying here on the weekends, and that implies that I don't hang around the hotel room reading or watching TV. So this weekend I journeyed on Saturday to Runnymede and Sunday to the Westminster Palace and surrounding areas. Seeing everything, walking around for miles, this is hard work. It's definitely much easier to work at the office, where it's comfortable and predictable. It's just not as interesting.

Saturday began early, with a wake-up call at 6:30 AM and breakfast at 7:30 AM in the hotel. They offer a buffet with the Full English Breakfast. I enjoyed an egg (sunny side up), sausage, tomatoes, and baked beans. For some reason they offer baked beans as a key element of the Full English Breakfast, and it tastes good. We should do that in the States.

Following breakfast, I was off to the Waterloo train station via the local bus. Upon arriving at the Angel bus stop, and waiting with several other early risers, an older woman came by and told us that the buses were diverted because of a broken water main, and if we wanted the 341 we needed to go around the corner. How nice of her. She didn't have to do that, but it sure helped.

The bus from Angel to Waterloo took about 20 minutes because there was little traffic and few stops from passengers wanting to get off. Once at Waterloo, I found my way upstairs to the train terminal and my jaw dropped to the floor. This station is massive. It makes Grand Central look tiny. That also made it somewhat confusing to the first-time traveler.

My objective was the SouthWest train to Egham, and I knew that one left at 9:20 AM. I was there early enough for that, but I had no ticket. I learned that you can purchase tickets one of three ways: at the ATM-style machines that took coins, notes or credit cards; at the ticket counter where a person served you behind bullet-proof glass; or from a single attendant at a folding table with a portable ticket printer. I took the last option since the line was the shortest and all the machines were busy or broken -- or just confusing. For example, did I want a "cheap" fare or the "regular" fare? (You are supposed to already know that "cheap" means "off-peak", but I wasn't sure.) And which line or destination should I select to have the machine print the correct ticket? Much easier to have a person do this the first time.

As with the subway attendant at Heathrow, this man told me the ticket was £6.30 and made change from my £10 note from his pockets. I suppose he balances the books when his shift is over, but it sure looks odd. He printed the ticket ("round trip" is called a "return" ticket) and directed me to track 17 in 30 minutes. I wandered around the terminal for about 15 minutes, noticing that it was outdoors, but covered with a semi-clear roof that made it seem almost like daylight. The temperature told me otherwise. I could see my breath there, and remained bundled up with my jacket and gloves.

There are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of shops lined along the northern side of the terminal. They are built into an older 3-story brick building that supported one end of the opaque roof, but the overall effect was like the New Orleans section at Disneyland -- similar to a movie set, but truly functional and very busy. At 9:00 AM the terminal was filled with people, most hurrying from one place to the next, and many staring at the constantly-changing digital schedule displays spaced throughout the terminal. There is a Eurostar terminal downstairs, and I think it connects to Europe by train, but I'm not sure yet. People were coming out of there with large suitcases just as though they were leaving an airplane terminal.

In addition to the crowds, there were many, many attendants available to answer questions. I am doing a lot of that, since I don't know as much about their transportation system as I'd like. Everyone was very helpful each time I asked for assistance.

Before boarding the train, I found the toilets, and was a little surprised to find that it cost 20p to enter. There was a turnstile and attendant there as well. If you don't have 20p in change, you need to climb back up the stairs and get it. (Thankfully, I had it on me.) I don't know where wheelchair-bound people go, but it's not there. There are no toilets on the trains.

This train made 8 or 9 stops before arriving at Egham, the nearest location to Runnymede and the Air Forces Memorial. I asked the train station ticket agent for directions to the Bee 43 bus, and he pointed me in the right direction. Knowing that this bus only runs hourly in the rural area, I walked several blocks as quickly as I could, and when one block from the bus stop, saw the bus approaching. I ran the rest of the way to the bus stop, catching the eye of the driver, and he waited for me, but only because there was a small queue to pay. I haven't seen a driver this bored or uncaring yet, and from what he said to others on the bus, I hope I don't. I asked others on the bus which stop was Englefield Green (the closest to the Memorial) and got off with one of them.

Then it was off to Coopers Hill Road and the Memorial. I had expected an open area, with rolling hills and meadows. Instead, this was residential, with narrow country roads and a small university on the way to the Memorial. There were numerous signs marking the way, and soon I arrived at the gate. The grounds were well-manicured and the memorial building was set back several hundred yards from the gate, giving it the perspective of a large mausoleum cemetery with surface-level headstones.

I found the panels with Doe and Peabody, took pictures, and then climbed to the top of the memorial building for the view of the River Thames, Heathrow Airport, the London skyline, and Windsor Castle. The entire memorial was profound and thought-provoking, since it represents over 20,000 airmen who died with no known grave during WW II. I am glad I visited this at Rick's request, and would recommend it to everyone.

Now the fun part began. I had queried the groundspeak.com servers for geocaches near the Memorial, and the first one was only 500 feet away. Sure, I thought, looking down the steep incline of Coopers Hill. It may be 500 feet away, but it's almost straight down. I found a footpath that went down the hill, followed the GPS coordinates, and located the cache under a mossy fallen tree. This involved thrashing around small trees an bushes, many with thorns like those found on rose bushes. Branches snagged my jacket, caught on my hair, and swept across my face. (It was cold.) I was glad the cache find didn't take too long in this environment.

Then it was off to the Magna Carta Memorial and the JFK Memorial.

The first was presented to the English nation by the American Bar Association, and while that is a good thing -- commemorating the location and date of the signing of the Magna Carta -- it wasn't that impressive. The JFK Memorial was sure to be better, I thought.

Nope. It was undergoing maintenance and was covered with tarps and plywood, so I couldn't see anything other than its location. But at least I was there.

At this point, the difficult part began. I wanted to locate a geocache in the Great Windsor Park, and the GPS said it was about 1.5 miles away. I had no choice but to start walking in the general direction, hoping I could find the park entrance. So off I went.

Having no town map, I navigated with the GPS, keeping my heading in the general direction of the next cache. I followed neighborhood roads until I came across a sign pointing to Windsor Great Park, and turned in that direction. By this time, I was getting tired and hungry, and the GPS indicated I had walked 5.43 miles. So, it was with great excitement that I saw a sign for the Fox & Hound Restaurant -- and learned it was on the way to the park. I stopped there for a lager and lunch and a toilet break. All essential for the ensuing walk.

The pub was pretty crowded, so I ventured into the restaurant instead. There, I found cloth-covered tables, starched cloth napkins, and a sunny, smoke-free ambiance. The menu was different as well. You can't order a pub sandwich in the restaurant, but you sure can order a bowl of carrot and coriander soup, followed by asparagus-stuffed chicken and sautéed vegetables. Prices are about double or triple what you would pay in the pub, but I decided to enjoy the meal and expense it to the project.

After enjoying the meal and a lager, I left the restaurant to resume my walk. To my surprise, there were two horses tied up to a hitching post out front, and two riders preparing to mount up. I later found that the restaurant is very close to a popular and heavily traveled horse trail that runs through the park. This knowledge was gained when I almost stepped on freshly laid horse droppings on what I first thought was a walking trail.

I entered the park through a large gate, and began my walk in the direction of the first GPS location. Since this was a fairly nice day (no rain, just cool wind), many people were also on walks through the park, some with dogs, some with young families, and others with friends or lovers. I followed the GPS clues for about a mile, which took me to the Copper Horse, a massive statue at the top of a large hill. The foundation was built of rock and that alone towered over 50 feet. It was topped by a bronze statue of George III astride a battle horse, holding his hand in the air. The usual regal pose. The best part was the view of the Windsor Palace over 2-1/2 miles away down a straight, tree-lined road, called The Long Walk. (Pictures) The castle looked small from this distance, and I imagine that taking the road would be an interesting experience as the castle gained in size over the hour or two it would take to walk it. From the distance, it appeared that dozens of people were undergoing the walk as I watched.

There was supposed to be a village in the middle of the park where I could buy a map of the entire park grounds. I couldn't really see it most of the time, but I started in the general direction. I was not able to make a straight line run at the village because the park seemed to be comprised of several fenced of areas, private farms, and the fences were obvious barriers to my travel. Rather, I followed various trails and roads marked as "public pathways" by the park planners. I suppose that rights-of-way have been established in many park and other rural areas just for this purpose. Everywhere I saw a trail, it was generally identified as a "public pathway".

It started to rain slightly and I raised the hood on my parka and continued walking. Since the view diminished as the clouds lowered with the rain, I couldn't see the village so I gave up on that and turned to the east, where I figured the town of Egham would be located.

Unfortunately, Egham was still several miles away, and my legs were starting to get tired. The park trail meandered through forests and meadows, but I followed them faithfully, keeping my general heading easterly, where I figured Egham was located. Soon enough I came to the original gate where I had entered earlier, and knew I could retrace my steps into town, if I didn't find a bus stop first.

There was a bus stop but no bus -- and this is an hourly bus -- so I decided to start walking to town. It couldn't be more than 2 miles according to my maps. It sure seemed like it would be longer as I wandered through neighborhoods with people unloading their cars with groceries or working in their gardens. I grew hopeful when I saw people walking in my direction -- away from town -- with bags of groceries. I knew town would be close. Eventually, I found someone would answer my most important question: "If I keep going in this direction, will I get to the train station?" They indicated a new direction, and off I went.

This led to a pub, The Beehive, and I had to stop for a toilet break and a lager, in that order. My legs needed the rest, so I read a novel for awhile as the locals watched World Cup Rugby on the telly. Later, moving on, I finally located the train station, again after asking people along the way if I was heading in the right direction. I found the station just where it was before, and waited only 5 minutes for the train, only to discover that I had gotten on the wrong side of the track, and this train would take me further south, rather than north to London. Since both trains had arrived at the same time, I ran over the passenger bridge to board the train just as the doors were closing. Had I missed this one, I would have had to wait another 20 to 25 minutes for the next train.

Eventually, I got to Waterloo Station, and then finally to the bus stop, and then ultimately to the hotel. When I made it to my room, I checked in to the bathroom for some cleanup, and discovered to my horror that I had a small twig or leaf segment on my right cheek, and had probably been "wearing" it all day. Through the walks, at the restaurant, at the pub, each time I stopped to ask for directions, on the train, on the bus, all the way to my hotel room. And it looked suspiciously like a booger, although I knew it was really a twig from the first geocache earlier that day. I removed it hastily, feeling embarrassed, and vowed to inspect myself visually in pub toilets or at least take a self-portrait with the camera and look at it closely on long treks through the city or parks.

This being a long day, I shed the rucksack, which was starting to get heavy, and wandered over to Sainsbury's for groceries. After purchasing a sandwich, pasta and some fruit, I returned to the hotel for some reading and dinner. And took one more look in the mirror to make sure I hadn't picked up another "booger" on the trip to the grocery store.

- posted by Tom Perkins @ 10/26/2003 07:43:00 PM