Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

Click here for the same but with photos

Everybody has a bucket list and Podge & Tubbs are no different. Their bucket list mainly centres around places to visit and nearly all by cruise ships. One such item on the list was to visit Florence and Pisa and they surely would have done so had Tubbs not gone and gotten herself poorly the day before they arrived at the port of Livorno: The suspicion is that this was down to excess lager, wine and Italian ice-cream while in Rome so, much to the dismay of Podge, who had to write off £100+ in lost excursion fees but, because His Podgeness loved Tubbs The Duchess he took it on the chin and stayed in the cabin to look after her. And so, Florence and Pisa had to remain on the list, un-ticked.

Another entry on the list was to do two cruises back to back: they harboured this ‘evil’ desire to stay on the ship and watch all their fellow passengers, with sad faces 😦 , disembark. 🙂

Can you imagine then their faces when thumbing through the P&O cruise brochure, a favoured pastime of theirs, when they saw a cruise sailing from Southampton (on Easter Sunday) to Genoa calling at Livorno immediately followed by another cruise again calling at Livorno (two chances go seeing the sights) and finishing in Venice. “Cripes” exclaimed Podge and Tubbs in unison, “this was made especially for us”. And so, as they were already on a cruise ship, they went to the future cruise sales desk and booked themselves a place and, as they were already on board a P&O boat, they got extra spending money included; Yay.

After many months of waiting, Easter finally arrived when they would board the Oceana and set sail for better weather, lovely ports and of course the opportunity (twice) to visit both Florence and Pisa. Unfortunately, their departure coincided with the arrival of Storm Kate, or is it Katie? Who knows, who cares? The fact was, Kate was on her way and she was in one seriously bad mood.  The forecast was for Kate to arrive on Easter Monday and cut across the south of the UK and away to the east. Well, if that was the case, and if Sunday night was anything to go by, Kate wasn’t so bad after all but, when wasn’t realised was that Kate had a nasty sting in her tale that would follow through the following night. As Monday came and went, yes, the sea was less than smooth, in fact it was downright rough and when the Captain said that the trip along the English Channel would be ‘interesting’ everybody knew they were in for a rough ride and , rough it was. In fact, the restaurants on board were less busy than normal and, the obligatory ‘bag’ holders (for those less able to deal with rough seas) were strategically placed around the ship. This pleased His Podgeness greatly as [to date] he had never felt untoward effects of sea-sickness. and so, Podge & Tubbs, having enjoyed a relaxing 1st day and a feast in The Plaza followed by much wine and Prosecco, etc. retired for the night. And then, the tale of Kate lashed out. The ship went up, the ship went down, the ship went up and leant left, the ship went down and leant right, the ship went up and leant right, the ship went down and leant left. Basically, this ship went every which way but loose.

Loose was the right word, sun chairs and tables were moving about, all banging about on the balconies, the screen between balconies were banging and clattering and generally everything was either moving or banging about. Every now and then, every 7th wave according to His Podgeness, the ship would crash down on an almighty wave make an almighty cracking sound. Tubbs, often referred to as The Duchess awoke on numerous occasions complaining how it was disturbing her sleep (this worried Podge greatly). She even declared the whole thing as ridiculous as if it was somebodies fault (this worried Podge even more as it was surely his fault by default).

And so came the dawn followed by The Captain making his 9 0’clock address to all who would, or could, listen. The was when he announced that the naughty Kate had been through wreaking havoc upon the ship to the point than many cabins had become waterlogged as the seas had come over onto the balconies and seeped through the doors, such was the ferocity of the storm. His Podgeness mused for a moment and thought well, if you’re standing on the balcony on deck 10, as he was at this time, and spray is higher than that then yes, I suppose it was, and still remained, a bit choppity but he was more worried about the fall out from The Duchess’s broken sleep and her inevitable grumpiness. The Captain then gleefully announced that we were about to enter, wait for it, THE BAY OF BISCAY. Notorious for its rough seas. He did however reassure all who were listening (many weren’t as they were still suffering the effects of Kate) that the weather would ease off and the sea would calm down.  And, it surely did.

The day went by and the sea got calmer as we approached ‘La Coruna’ corner and Cape Finistaire (the end of the world as the Romans would call it) and down the west coast of Portugal (thinking about it, Portugal only has a west coast) before entering the River Tagus and onwards to Lisbon, their first port of call: Landfall at last. It was here that Podge and Tubbs had booked their first excursion: They had already seen Sintra; they had already seen Obidos; they had already seen the town centre but, they had not visited The Monument to the Discoveries or the Belàm Tower. and so with an advertised excision to these places, the tour was booked and embarked upon also visiting the Jeronimos Monastery Church.

The coach driver / tour guide took everybody on the coach, including Podge & Tubbs around town eventually dropping them off outside of The Monument to the Discoveries with the guidance that it will be possible to walk to the Belàm Tower in about 10-15 minutes but they had to be back for the coach in 45 minutes after which they would be taken to the Jeronimos Monastery Church. So, as quickly as poor old Podge’s lungs would allow, the rushed around both sites to take the obligatory photos getting back just in time for the coach to depart. For those that live in or know Lisbon, they are probably in a state of wondering ‘Why?’. Well, after a 10-minute drive, the coach arrived outside the Monastery which as many will know, is across the road from the Monument: Everybody agreed, they could have walked there quicker. Still never mind, His Podgeness and Tubbs ‘The Duchess’ made their way into the Monastery, were [genuinely] filled with wonderment, came out and made their way along the road to the nearest custard tart shop after which they sat upon a park bench and gorged themselves. Hunger sated, the next, and final stop was the Black Horse Square, the largest square in Lisbon although the guide insisted it was the largest in Europe.  Lots of pickies later, it was back to the coach for the ride back to the ship which was actually only 500 meters away from the square. But Podge and Tubbs were happy and they retired to the bar for some well earned grape juice, of the Pinot variety.

Coming soon, beers in Gibraltar and Monks in Barcelona.

Congratulations to Pete McQuade the founder of the Paris to Hayling Cycle Challenge,

Last Friday evening Meridian News ran an article on the Hayling Island Cycle Ride reaching its 30th Birthday in July this year having raised nearly 1.5 million pounds for a wide variety of worthy causes. This is an event I feel privileged and honoured to have been part of the event since the 90s until 2005 as both a participant and also as Secretary and assisting in Support & Logistics and was even especially in Route Planning under the auspices of Mad Fred.

What started my involvement? Well, I needed to give up smoking, badly. Will power alone wasn’t going to do it: I needed a challenge. Then I saw a news article on the Paris to Hayling Cycle Ride with a picture of 3 rather fetching young ladies with their bikes. ‘That’ll do it for me’ I thought and entered there and then. That first ride was one to remember, and most of it I can but I regret to say that having reached Paris I was rather thirsty and joined other riders at the Hotel Bar in Le Defence. The following events I regret to say are a blur but the next day was my first experience in Riding in France and with so many cyclists (100+) my heavy head was soon forgotten.

Having completed the event plus two or three further events I felt it was time to ‘give something back’ and became a member of the organising committee. Among many things, this did allow, me along with my new fellow cycling buddies Mad Fred, Reg the Hedge, Hobbitt, and Marko: I for my part was named Podge the Puffer on account of age (derivative of Codge), size and hill climbing abilities (almost, a famous five but commonly known as The Reccecrew). And just like the famous five, we had many, many adventures most of which entailed us either getting Lost in France or sampling French Hospitality in bars or café. We tried to document our adventures under the title of Lost in France. An extract of such an adventure is below where we to undertake a ‘recce’ of the proposed route for the coming years Paris to Hayling ride. Naturally, this was all done by bike and naturally, we had to find refreshment stops. But, it wasn’t all easy.


Normandy in France

Recce’s – they’re a doddle, pootle over to France, eat nice food, laze in bed, drink lots of wine, write a few notes.

Well that might be the Chairman’s view but he, and you, should have been with Mad Fred, Podge, Reg the Hedge, Hobbitt, and Marko, when they went to France in March to establish the route for the 5-Day Ride.

The trip to Cherbourg was uneventful. However the weather when we emerged into the darkness in Cherbourg was definitely English ! Windy but mild, and fortunately for us a tail-wind to boot ! Recce’s sometimes mean that we have to retrace our steps and Hobbitt soon found we had to do this within 2 kilometers of the ferry port – straight back into a headwind. While the rest of us munched apple turnovers and pain au chocolate he blasted back to check what turns out to be a very well surfaced and convenient cycle track leading out of the ferry port.

The job done we tackled the first climb ‘Hobbitt’s Early Riser’ – scant reward for his efforts so far. From the top of the hill to Quettenhou the quiet roads follow a plateau and river valleys, OK and one hill, but pretty soon we reached the east coast of the Contin Peninsular and while Mad Fred ploughed on ahead the rest of us piled into a great Bike Shop (well worth stopping at in July).

By the time we reassembled in a bar on the D-Day Beaches the wind was blowing into us at 90 degrees which was pretty hairy but fortunately the roads were totally deserted.  We batted on southwards until the estuary turned us inland and into the headwind for a very painfully slow crawl to Carentan. In the summer this will be a very pretty route but in March it was hell ! Over lunch in Carentan we were all falling asleep.

Moving on after a good feed however, the wind was behind us and with the sun out it was very pleasant as we bowled along towards Bayeaux for the night. We witnessed the strange sight of a large dog bounding trafficwards in the fast lane of the route national, whether the mutt survived was never known but it caused a fair degree of chaos.

We’d picked out a river valley to lead us the last 20 kilometres into Bayeaux but nothing had forewarned us of the flooding we were about to encounter. The valley floor was a giant lake, extending as far as the eye could see with little islands dotted here and there, we pushed on through it and up onto higher ground, getting wet and taking a few photos just to prove the point ! Approaching Bayeaux Hobbitt and Marko went ahead while Mad Fred and Podge planned a route around the ring road being built around this historic town. An early night was spent in Bayeaux as we had a 7am start the next day and we were spent!

From Bayeaux to Caen is quite a nice spin and with a sunny morning it was very pleasant – even with having to contend with ‘Podge’s Puffer’ which is a nice little climb. But there’s always a ‘but’ and in this case it was a slight confusion over where we were going. Marko and Hobbitt were under the impression that they were to meet up with Mad Fred and Podge in……..(‘Lost in France bit’)…..but the latter didn’t share the same view and after an hour of ‘being lost’ we met up, funnily, in a bar (turned out we were never more than a kilometer away from each other). Ploughing on towards Caen we encountered the floods once again, only this time the water was at least a metre deep and right across the road we used to exit Caen last year on the ride to Gorron, and which this year we wanted to use to enter Caen. Podge and Hobbitt vainly attempted to cycle through it, once to see how deep it was, and after proving to themselves that you cannot do a U turn on a cycle loaded with your luggage and up to the axle in water,  once again to pose for the camera. Time to retire to the bar and plot a way around it !

Mission completed we moved on, narrowly avoiding a very serious involvement with the local cycling club who were turning out in force for an afternoon road race. Pukka bikes and riders who understandably ignored the pannier-laden Recce Crew. The skies grew darker and Mad Fred’s unfair admonishment of the French for having moved road numbers and planted a farm in the way of us only served to contribute towards the impending gloom, it was going to rain, and there was going to be lots of it !

We became wetter and colder and more and more miserable so an executive decision was made in the bar – head for Troarn, find a hotel and dry out !

Success with this raised our spirits, helped by a few bottles of red wine, glasses of calvados, and a hot supper. By midnight we felt in reasonable shape to get up at 6am and battle on towards Le Havre, but it was still raining…..!

Sunday morning at 6am and it was still dark, this was the morning after the clocks were altered and to be quite honest we weren’t sure what time it really was. We snuck out of the hotel (having paid the previous night) only to encounter half a dozen Frenchmen having an early coffee and brandy in the hotel bar.

The road from Troarn to Pont l’Eveque is as boring as hell – long, straight, slow hills, and more flooding – anywhere flat seemed to be under masses of water. Mad Fred was some way behind us when we got to Pont l’Eveque and stopped at the first bar – rule number one is if you get separated stop in the first bar and wait, leave your bikes on prominent display so they can’t be missed by the estranged recce crew member. Rule number two is that Mad Fred doesn’t know about rule number one, so we lost him, again.

Reunited we plodded on towards Honfleur where we needed to recce the route off the Pont d’Normandie (BIG bridge to you and Podge who moaned and groaned his way to the top), and onto it for the 4-Day Ride. At the top of the bridge a helpful instrument told us the wind was 40kph, and the temperature was wavering between 4c and 5c. It felt, and was, cold !

Things brightened up once we were over the bridge and pedalling along the nice quiet roads on the industrial approach to Le Havre and with an hour to spare before the ferry left we found an extremely nice restaurant for lunch. Well 2/3 of our lunch, we didn’t have time for the dessert so we’ll go back for that in July. We did have time for 2 courses, and a litre of wine each – hell we’d deserved it, over 200 miles though some pretty miserable weather, now it was time to relax !

Onboard the ship we bumped into Syme and Michelle, two former riders who’d just enjoyed a romantic weekend and now had to face reality in the shape of a hammering in the bar. We failed miserably in the onboard quiz, drank loads of Guinness, a couple of bottles of wine, and a few brandy’s, and wobbled off the ship into the Ship and Castle by the Ferryport. None of us remember much after that !


And, if you want to enjoy such adventures though with less wind and rain, and if the ride continues beyond 2015, I can’t recommend it highly enough..

This trip to the Amazon was to be my third, the 2nd for Mrs Me, but the shortest. On previous trips, we’d sailed (on a cruise ship of course, I’m not that adventurous) up the Amazon (calling at Macapa) all the way to Manaus visiting Parintins and Santarem en route plus an overnight trip to Ariau Amazon Towers [some love it, some hate: – we love it], a kind of jungle lodge on stilts. This however the itinerary this year would be just Macapa and Santarem, to see the meeting of the waters and do a spot of piranha fishing. We were however due to do a ‘sail by’ of Devils Island as we came out of the Amazon (future Post).

The following is effectively a re-post [with slight alterations] of an earlier one in February but this time with pictures (displayed randomly) 🙂

As always, visiting the Amazon was to be the highlight of our trip, this time consisting of two days sailing along the mighty Amazon River and a day spent ashore at in the town of Santarem, located as it is, on the Tapajós River.

As we crossed the sandbar into ‘effectively’ the Mouth of the Amazon, we were still 60+ nautical miles away from the nearest lands! Yet even here, the water had turned into the muddy brown colour for which the river is well known.

Our first port of call, which was actually a 2-hour stop in the middle of the river, was at Macapa: This was to allow immigration officials and river pilots to join us, for the duration, to help navigate the river – sounds to me like a cool 3-day jolly if you ask me. Once on board, we set off and through the course of the first day, the Amazon unveiled its beauty for all to see: we passed isolated dwellings, little more than huts; sometimes built on stilts to lift them above the flood level, where the inhabitants would wave at us or even try to chase us in their little, woefully underpowered, boats. I have no idea whet would have done if they’d caught up with us (perhaps they were pirate scouts), but they never did, though it was quite amusing to watch them bob about somewhat precariously in the wake of our ship 🙂.

Day-2 brought us into Santarem and as we drew towards our mooring yours truly was dispatched by Mrs. Me to report back on our progress and to let her know, supported of course by her morning cup of team, when it was a suitable time for her to arise and view the town. When she did eventually surface, the temperature on our balcony, as indicated by my Garmin, was 97.7f: in anybody’s book, that is hot and for which I received my first thick ear of the day, for not warning her. But, arise she had to, as we were booked to take a boat trip to see the meeting of the waters, view locals wildlife and do a spot of piranha fishing.

The ‘Meeting of the Waters’ is an anomaly where the muddy brown waters of the Amazon River and the brilliant blue waters of the Tapajós River meet but don’t actually mix for a couple of miles and as such the two waters can be seen side by side as you sail along. This phenomena is similar to the more well knownMeeting of the Water where the mighty Amazon and the River Negro where the two waters, one sandy brown (The Amazon) and one almost black coloured (river Negro)

IMG_2073

After this we went to a smaller tributary to view the wildlife, you know the sort, cows, sheep, chickens, water buffalo, iguanas, sloths, vultures, etc., etc. Oh, we also saw some more local dwellings on stilts. After a while we stopped and started fishing for Piranha. Mrs. Me took her place on the boat between my and another gentleman and inevitably, after the other gentleman and I had pre-baited [her] swim, Mrs. Me hooked a Piranha and, accompanied by all sorts of squeaks & squeals, she eventually brought the poor creature on board for us all to look at.  Despite me wanting get a picture of Mrs. Me kissing the Piranha, the fish was having none of it and stayed firmly with the hook and line; probably a wise choice as she would have probably have just eaten it.

Go on, kiss it1

Go on, kiss it1

My next post, probably, will be about our sail-by of Devils Island and/or the crossing the line party [similar to last years Crossing the Line party but different boat, different crew & older passengers].

 

Of a Cruise Ship Passenger

So, when at home my daily dietary habits include:

Breakfast

Porridge or cereal

Lunch

Sandwich, maybe an omelet

Dinner

In the hands of Mrs. Me, I’m afraid.

Obviously along the way there may be a few drinks involved, a couple of glasses of wine, a couple of glasses of whiskey and of course coffee / tea and yes, even water. And this, along with occasional biscuit, cake, crisps etc. does me quite adequately for any day of the week.

So why is it that as soon as I and, I suspect many other people, board a cruise ship, we throw caution to the wind; discard common sense ignore what one’s body is saying and devour anything on offer.

When on a cruise ship however my dietary habits change and might typically include:

Breakfast

Porridge (maybe), fried eggs, bacon, sausage(s), beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, and [sometimes] black pudding, followed by toast and jam and a plate of fruit.

Lunch

Fish & chips, or curry and chips, or pie and chips plus a chocolate desert and maybe some fruit and a pint of lager

Tea

Sandwiches (small and various) plus a small cake and a glass of Rosé

Fivesie’s

Large gin & tonic plus a bowl of nibbles and maybe another gin & tonic

Dinner

Starter) Prawn Cocktail, Foie Gras or melon:

Main Course) Chicken or salmon or steak, with chips, maybe some peas;

Desert) whatever is on offer but normally includes cream / custard or, if I’m feeling a little too plump by this time of day, a sorbet. All accompanied by wine and liqueurs.

After Dinner Retire to see a show or listen to a band to enjoy a couple of glasses of wine / champagne / prosecco / and/or whiskey.

Obviously along the way there may be a few drinks involved, a couple of glasses of wine, a couple of glasses of whiskey and of course coffee / tea and yes, even water, but, no occasional biscuit, cake, crisps etc. I’m not a pig you know.

I have to admit, I did have a theory (see My Last Posting of the Cruise) that ‘one of the peculiarities of cruising, especially sea cruising is that the salt-water air has a tendency to reduce the elasticity of one’s clothing thus making them appear and feel so much tighter. I can think of no other explanation, save that of course of over eating, which I find hard to believe.’ – And to add insult to injury, even my feet need bigger shoes when I go cruising: How on earth does that happen?

And so, it’s back to MyFitnessPal. – just look for Podgethepuffer.

Must lose weight, must lose weight.

 

Flying Fish

Sitting on the balcony at 07:30 this morning, with the temperature hovering around 75f, in my shorts and (coffee stained) t-shirt (I got a thick ear for the t-shirt) I was mesmerized by the sight of so many flying fish as we sailed across the Atlantic off the coast of Guyana towards Trinidad. I wondered why these creatures take to the air when the natural habitat is in the sea. I assumed they were all trying to get away from predators but came to the conclusion that as the fish were doing this for so long, the predator must have been the Adonia (our cruise ship). I watched them as they came out of the sea and ‘flew’ across the tops of waves before once more returning to their natural element. I watched them as they came out singly; I watched them as they came out in large groups (as shoal becomes flock becomes shoal). I watched them as they covered amazing distances rising and falling above the rolling seas; I watched them as they ‘flew’ and even changed directions. I watched them for an hour, maybe longer. Then Mrs Me arose from her pit (bed), breaking my peace and solitude and demanded her morning tea: “Right away My Duchess” was my response as I scurried away to tend to my husbandly duties leaving the flying fish to their strange existence.

So Near, Yet So Far

The phrase Drive By is an often used / heard phrase though normally related to bad deeds. Well on the Adonia we were treated to a ‘Cruise By’ of Devils Island – home to the perpetrators of bad deeds: Devils Island was previously used as a French Penal Colony (until 1953) for really naughty people (murderers, political embarrassment, constant escapees, etc.). The islands, there’s three altogether, look like idyllic tropical islands but I doubt the naughty people shared the same thoughts. I so desperately wanted to get onto these islands but the sea state was such that a ‘Cruise By’ was all we would be able manage. As we approached the islands on our starboard side (that’s on the right for normal people) and just about every passenger clamored for the best spot from which to take photos. You’re truly was stuck at the back, temporarily, but, under the authoritative direction of Mrs. Me, I did manage to worm my way forward. But then, my sea going skills, possibly just guesswork, worked out that the boat would not be able to carry on right round the islands and that she would have to turn around and come back with the Islands to Port (on the left) and with this new found knowledge I instructed (I know, I was taking my life into my own hands here), but yes, ‘I instructed’ Mrs. Me to accompany me back the cabin: “not at this time of the day she said”. “No” I said, and then I explained that from our balcony we would have grandstand seats from which to view the islands. Finally she agreed but only after the promise of a large gin & tonic with ice and lemon. From there I was able to take some amazing photos, all of which are securely trapped in my nice shiny new camera with no means to transferring them to my laptop. Why? Because the adapter I brought had been damaged; through my own ineptness I had managed to bend half the pins rendering it useless. So the pictures will have to wait.

The Amazon / Tapajós

Visiting the Amazon was to be the highlight of our trip consisting of two days sailing along the mighty Amazon River and a day spent ashore at in the town of Santarem, located as it is, on the Tapajós River.

IMG_2073

As we crossed the sandbar into ‘effectively’ the Mouth of the Amazon, we were still 60+ nautical miles away from the nearest lands! Yet even here, the water had turned into the muddy brown colour for which the river is well known.

Our first port of call, which was actually a 2-hour stop in the middle of the river, was at Macapa: This was to allow immigration officials and river pilots to join us, for the duration, to help navigate the river – sounds to me like a cool 3-day jolly if you ask me. Once on board, we set off and through the course of the first day, the Amazon unveiled its beauty for all to see: we passed isolated dwellings, little more than huts; sometimes built on stilts to lift them above the flood level, where the inhabitants would wave at us or even try to chase us in their little, woefully underpowered, boats. I have no idea whet would have done if they’d caught up with us (perhaps they were pirate scouts), but they never did, though it was quite amusing to watch them bob about somewhat precariously in the wake of our ship :-).

Day-2 brought us into Santarem and as we drew towards our mooring yours truly was dispatched by Mrs. Me to report back on our progress and to let her know, supported of course by her morning cup of team, when it was a suitable time for her to arise and view the town. When she did eventually surface, the temperature on our balcony, as indicated by my Garmin, was 97.7f: in anybody’s book, that is hot and for which I received my first thick ear of the day, for not warning her. But, arise she had to, as we were booked to take a boat trip to see the meeting of the waters, view locals wildlife and do a spot of piranha fishing.

The ‘Meeting of the Waters’ is an anomaly where the muddy brown waters of the Amazon River and the brilliant blue waters of the Tapajós River meet but don’t actually mix for a couple of miles and as such the two waters can be seen side by side as you sail along.

After this we went to a smaller tributary to view the wildlife, you know the sort, cows, sheep, chickens, water buffalo, iguanas, sloths, vultures, etc., etc. Oh, we also saw some more local dwellings on stilts. After a while we stopped and started fishing for Piranha. Mrs. Me took her place on the boat between my and another gentleman and inevitably, after the other gentleman and I had pre-baited [her] swim, Mrs. Me hooked a Piranha and, accompanied by all sorts of squeaks & squeals, she eventually brought the poor creature on board for us all to look at. I took photos, of course I did, but they are stuck on my big camera, so they will have to follow but be assured, despite me wanting get a picture of Mrs. Me kissing the Piranha, the fish was having none of it and stayed firmly with the hook and line; probably a wise choice as she would have probably have just eaten it.

Next will be tales of Caibbean Islands, and Captains Gala Parties. and, hopefully, pictures from my camera.

Byeee