Day 67 – Back home to Bendigo (Tuesday 18th June 2024)

Our journey was almost complete. The Great Southern room was very comfortable, clean, fresh and modern. I highly recommend it for a good value stay in Melbourne. It’s near the Crown casino and the free tram goes right by the door. Skipping breakfast at the hotel, we walked across the road to Southern Cross, grabbed a meat pie and the best coffee I’ve had in three months then boarded the 10:06 to Bendigo. Just before midday we arrived at the station, caught the bus to Maiden Gully and walked the 75m back home.

Day 65 & 66 – Farewell London (Sunday 16th June 2024)

The sun gets up early in London at this time of year, less than a week out from the summer solstice. I guess I should have shut the blind but I didn’t so I fired up the laptop at 5:00am and spent 90 minutes doing some work on the last few day’s photos. That was enough to put me back to sleep.

We were to be out of the room by 11:00am which is pretty generous so there was no rush to get up. Nevertheless, just after 10:30am we were walking out the door for the Euston Station Underground. The plan was to catch the Tube to Tottenham Court Road then change to the new Elizabeth Line out to Heathrow. The Elizabeth line opened only two years ago, running East to West across London out as far as Reading in the West with a service to each of the four Heathrow Terminals. There’s a premium to be paid for taking the Elizabeth Line to Heathrow, about AUD$20.00 by my calculations. Not too bad, I suppose. You can still get to Heathrow using the Piccadilly line for about half that cost but it will take about twice as long to get there.

Our ride on the new Elizabeth line delivered us right into the heart to Terminal 4 right where the Departure gates are located. After we found the postbox to post our last postcard to Mum (it’s located outside Gate D) we checked-in. It’s all customer-driven these days – hardly a human in sight, just one or two people to help travellers who have buggered-up the process – like the Smiths. Our bags disappeared down the chute and our fingers were crossed that we’d see them again in Melbourne in 24hrs time. No dramas in customs, aside from my full water bottle, and in we went to wait until our 3:15pm departure.

To our delight QR004 was only about half full, if that, so we spread out in our centre row where we prefer to travel these days. You’ve only gotta climb over your travelling companion to get in or out of the seat. The new plane was very comfortable so the 6hr45m journey went pretty quickly – I spent most of my time catching up on this blog and Kerry spent most of the time doing her sewing, which she found easy to do in this big new plane with plenty of elbow room.

The three hours spent at Hamad International Airport in Doha went pretty quickly while we waited for QR889 to Melbourne. It really is a huge and very flash airport. Our plane was older and quite full but comfortable enough, nevertheless. It left at 3:05am so the enthusiasm to do things other than eat and sleep was minimal. I did try to get the blog up to date but then the cabin lights went out so I stopped. 13 hours after we lifted off the Doha tarmac we touched down on Melbourne just after 11:00pm – not feeling too bad, actually. The automated passport reading machine didn’t like Kerry’s so we marched off to get a human to do it. There was not a single person in the queue when we arrived there so through we went very quickly. Our two little July suitcases appeared to our delight and relief, we walked through customs (carrying Jan Sonogan’s undeclared drugs in my case), out to the Skybus which arrived immediately, and then into Southern Cross. The frosty weather made the walk to the Great Southern Hotel in Spencer St pretty rapid at 00:30am on Tuesday morning.

Day 64 – Farewell Emily and Manchester (Saturday 15th June 2024)

Well the sad day has finally arrived after a wonderful week with our beautiful daughter and her newly adopted home.

The day started with a final coffee with our hostess Isabel. We’ve done so well to find such a great place to stay and with a wonderful hostess as well. Staying out way from Manchester central was no burden at all and we’d happily do it again. In fact, Isabel has invited us back again when we visit next year. Generously, she loaded our us and our two backpacks into her car and gave a lift to the Brooklands tram stop. We said our final goodbyes and wished each other well (Isabel has an operation on Monday) and jumped on the tram to Trafford Bar and then to Chorlton. At Emily’s I hung a picture in her room with some picture hanging hardware I bought the other day while Kerry fixed a loose button on Emily’s coat.

 

Out train back to London was booked for 3:15pm from Manchester Piccadilly which was still a couple of hours away but I was getting nervous as I’d not booked any seats (‘cos I couldn’t) and Kerry wanted to get a couple more Manchester souvenirs before we left. We arrived at St. Peter’s Square with Manchester putting on her finest display…. of rain! The 15 minute hike to the Manchester Shop seemed to take an eternity in the rain but the girls were quick in the store and we arrived at Manchester Piccadilly with an hour to kill. What was I worried about! We killed the time by getting reserved seats the girl insisted I didn’t need and then a coffee. Emily escorted us to our carriage and after plenty of big, big hugs and kisses and a few tears we jumped on the train and it pulled away. It was so good to see her in her new world and to see that she was happy with her job, her house-mates, her growing list of friends and her new town. That’ll help us cope with being so far away for such a long time. Roll on 2025!

Our train arrived at London Euston on time and, like locals, we took the secret back way to North Gower St again. We ended up in exactly same room as last time. What are the chances! For dinner we walked 20m to the Crown and Anchor on the corner of North Gower St and Drummond St for a Guinness and a steak pie with mash. Along Drummond St at a convenience store we bought some travelling supplies for tomorrow and enjoyed an ice cream while we strolled down Euston Rd. We did the final re-arrangement of our cases and back-packs and hit the sack.

 

Day 63 – Derbyshire (Friday 14th June 2024)

Our last full day in Manchester began with a drive out to Denton, and outer eastern suburb of Manchester. Emily had been looking for a comfy chair for her room and had found one of Facebook Marketplace. She had to get out there to pick it up though and luckily we had a car to help her to do that. Kerry stayed behind at Sale as we figured we’d likely struggle to fit the chair in then little Clio – which proved to be a very good call. We’d packed our cases the night before so I dropped them at Emily’s to save us having to drag them up and down the Sale and Chorlton streets tomorrow.

It was no surprise that the chair didn’t fit, because chairs are awkward things to fit in cars at the best of times, but with the help of the mighty Allan key we made it fit, took it back to Emily’s and re-assembled it. I left Emily to her day’s work and went back to pick-up Kerry and head for Derbyshire to the south-east of Manchester. This near part of Derbyshire, only 40-50kms or so from central Manchester is like another world. The Peak District NP is the backdrop against which this beautiful part of England is set. Like the Yorkshire Dales massive rolling hills bereft of any trees dominate the landscape. Wonderful stone villages dot the landscape. Streams flow through dark woods nestled on the valley floors. Dry-stone walls create a wonderful patchwork across the green hillsides that just just seem to go on forever. There is a sense of greater affluence throughout this region.

 

 

At the start of our drive through the Peak District we stopped at the town of Buxton. Large enough to have a University and an Opera House it has a lovely main street with many stately homes and a central park called The Slopes. Despite the rain the town really took our fancy. A long pedestrian mall sits at the bottom of The Slopes. Kerry found a wool shop where she jumped on a couple of pattern books that would have cost double plus postage if she’d bought them in Australia. It pays to know your merchandise when you’re looking for a bargain. Further along the Buxton Trading Post was selling hot sausage rolls. We’d been searching for something like that since we’d arrived in the UK without success. So, lunch was a no-brainer! The sun appeared as we sat outside at the single table provided and watched the world go by. A really good coffee at Coffee #1 just down the mall topped it all off.

 

While at Coffee #1 we got chatting to a Scotsman and his wife who declared that in his opinion Derbyshire was the most pretty county in the whole of England. With what we’d seen to date we had to agree. The wool shop proprietor had told Kerry of a nearby Patchwork shop in the village of Chapel-en-le-Frith so we set our sights for that via the tiny village of Ashford-in-the-Water – a pretty village for sure with yet another arched bridge over a shallow stream and an old church by the green but we only stayed long enough to walk to bridge to hunt for trout – well, that’s why I went their!

 

 

 

In Chapel-en-le-Frith I dropped Kerry off at the Patchwork shop and I went to fill the car which was down below 25% full. After searching for a park and eventually finding one I walked back towards the Patchwork shop to find Kerry just exiting with a few goodies in her little bag! It was just mid-afternoon but we had to get the car back to Salford by 5:00pm so we hit the road. Having seen even more of Derbyshire since our lunchtime chat with the Scotsman in Buxton we now both unequivocally agree with him – Derbyshire is the best we;ve seen in all out travels in England over the years. We’ll be back again on next visit to Emily with the intention of staying in the area and walking some of the trails and forest paths it’s famous for.

 

 

 

About 20kms from Manchester we started to get into the peak-hour traffic again. The outer ring road was going absolutely nowhere and I was getting more and more frustrated. A mi-interpreted instruction from GPS-girl (I maintain that there was actually no instruction) saw me take a turn off the motorway I shouldn’t have which only served to exacerbate the problem. When I saw that her way to resolve the problem was to go back to almost wher we’d joined the motorway I took control and just turned off down the first A road that pointed in then general direction of Manchester central that I came across. At least we were moving. Aside for one lengthy slow-down at a cross road we did alright and made it to Sixt at Salford with twenty minutes to spare. Again! Phew!

 

A gentleman at the bus stop told us that the No. 33 was running twenty minutes late, no doubt due to the heavy traffic I’d just fought and beaten, so we opted for the 25 minutes walk in the sunshine and warm weather back to Deansgate-Castlefield with time for a beer before we got there. The tram came promptly and before we knew it we were back at Emily’s on Chorlton. Tonight she shouted us dinner at a fine dining pub called Jane-Eyre. Small shared plates where it’s all about the flavours is what this place is about and the flavours certainly didn’t disappoint. Emily walked us to the Chorlton tram stop and we made our way home from there in the rapidly fading light.

 

Day 62 – The Yorkshire Dales (Thursday 13th June 2024)

Day two of our exploration of the counties surrounding Manchester was dedicated to the famous Yorkshire Dales. We’d passed through here way back in 1990 and have fond memories of the couple of days spent travelling through on our way to Scotland so we thought another day here 34 years later would be fun.

From Sale the journey was not so exciting. We hit the ring road headed for Whitworth - probably where the spanners come from, I reckoned. Before I knew it we where there, expecting some countryside somewhere along the journey but, no, just an urban sprawl. Without stopping we pointed GPS-girl at the strangely named town of Bacup for no reason other than we were starved of food and coffee. Nothing exciting happening here either but we did find an average cafe that sold very average coffee and average cakes. We were getting desperate for some of the 1990 magic but none was immediately forthcoming. Through Burnley we trundled and then Colne and finally some light began to appear down the tunnel of grey skies and greyer towns. I’d set GPS-girl to what looked like a tiny village called Airtown, officially just inside the Yorkshire Dales NP. Before we got there we flew past a sign pointing to the Tempest Arms so at the next roundabout on the A road we chucked a u-ey and went back there for lunch. The Tempest Arms is not your wee little English pub but rather quite a large and fancy new-ish place, built in keeping with the grey-stone architecture of the region. But we stayed anyway. The service was very good, the food was good but not ridiculously expensive and the staff and other patrons were up for a chat with a couple of Aussies.

 

 

To my delight GPS-girl started to head for the back roads to get us to Airton. This was finally more like what we’d been hoping for – green fields, rolling hills, sheep, woods scattered across the landscape and small stone villages every few kms. At one such village called Gargrave we stopped for a wander. A small clear stream flowed under an old arched stone bridge, a white-washed house with attendant outbuildings sat between the main street and the stream and up the road the C of E church stood, with obligatory tombstones. We visited the church then went down to the stream-side where some local dogs were enjoying a run and a swim. Kerry had a desire for afternoon tea is a classic English tea house which the Dalsesman tea house provided. The quaint little shop filled with English memorabilia afforded a warm and cosy place to escape from the drizzle that came and went. Kerry was thrilled to meet the resident dog who the owner proudly described as the canine incarnation of Rod Stewart. Not too far from the truth, I must say.

 

 

 

We made it to Airton and then dived in to the small lanes nearby. I saw a monument of some sort on distant hill and thought it might provided a great panoramic view of Wharfedale so I ducked down a lane that went in that general direction. Well, the narrow lane got more and more narrow the further we went. In fact it got to the stage where it was barely wide enough to carry our little Clio. For a good 8kms I was crawling along with the car’s mirrors brushing the hedgerows on either side. A few superficial scratches didn’t worry me, I’ve had worse on this trip, but the 1m high dry-stone walls hiding inside the hedgerows certainly did. One little miscalculation of the width of the car, or the width of the lane or turn of the road and we’d be looking at the Vosges all over again, a prospect that kept me very attentive and proceeding very cautiously. My next greatest fear was to meet an oncoming vehicle, a challenge I’d been dealing with all afternoon. Precisely at the end of this precarious journey just where the road began to widen we met a huge oncoming tractor which we were able to slide past. Phew! Missed it by that much!!

 

 

 

Down the hill we drove as the road continued to widen. At the bottom we stopped at the village of Linton for a very well earned drink to settle the nerves that were jingling in both of us. By now it was about 5:30pm and time top take the quickest route back to Chorlton. Emily had booked a Greek restaurant for 7:00pm. Well the traffic through the bigger towns put paid to meeting that deadline and then the weather and the peak-hour traffic on the Manchester outer ring road made sure we were going to be late. Thankfully, through the power of the internet and WhatsApp we could keep Emily informed of our very slow progress. The gods smiled upon us and we found a park just near the restaurant. Chorlton is renowned for its inability to provide motorists with parking. It was souvlakis all round for dinner!

Day 61 – Noodling around the countryside (Wednesday 12th June 2024)

There’s plenty of really nice country in the areas surrounding Manchester. To the north is Lancashire and Yorkshire and to the south is Cheshire and Derbyshire. Our plan for the next three days is to visit the lovely English countryside in those counties. To facilitate that we were up early catch the tram to the Deansgate-Castlefield stop in Manchester and then the No. 33 bus out to Salford to visit the Sixt dealer there. Salford is only 10 minutes by bus away or 25 minute walk. The young chap there was very helpful, putting us in a blue Renault Clio – a darker blue than Kerry’s and a year older than the one we had in Croatia. But at least we were in a familiar car again with the steering wheel on the correct side of the car. Man, that makes things so much easier when driving in a foreign city! The chap did a good job up-selling on the insurance too, so his boss will be happy.

Today we’re gonna stick close to home and check out the area immediately to the south. Indeed, Sale and Chorlton are in the county of Cheshire while the Manchester CBD is in Lancashire. Our hostess, Isabel, texted us a list of places in Cheshire to visit so we’ll go with that. First cab off the rank is the village of Lymm. Down the outer ring road we drove for about 30kms, I reckon, before we took a left hand slip-road and found ourselves in the leafy streets of the town. Following the signs to the “village” we found a car-park next to the Bridgewater Canal. The Lymm village is a pretty place sitting at the bottom a little hollow. Typical of these places, there are three pubs within a single gaze from where we exited the car-park. The sun was barely over the yard-arm so we resisted the temptation to visit one of them so early and found a cafe instead. The young manager was excited to learn we were from the land down-under as he’d just been advised that his Australian work visa was approved and he was keen to get started on his new adventure. His plans include opening his own cafe once he’s explored our country a little and gets settled. He’s off to a good start as his cappuccino was strong with a nice creamy froth and and the right temperature for us. He’ll need to improve on the freshness of his cakes though.

 

 

Sitting above Lymm is very picturesque little lake to which we took the short walk through the forest by the stream that it empties into. A local chap was camped on the shore trying his luck for a fish of some sort – don’t know what might have been in there. Better at night he reckoned. Near where he was camped was a very detailed sign spelling out the fishing rules and costs. Thank God a home I just walk up to any water and fish. I don’t even need a licence anymore! A nearby C of E church was worth a quick look if no reason other than to experience that English thing where grounds surrounding the church are filled with the graves of former parishioners. So different to rural Australia where many cemeteries are not within five miles of the town.

 

 

Back to the car we went through some other streets and by the canal to head to the town of Frodsham, not far from where the River Mersey begins to spread out as it nears the Irish Sea. Actually we were headed for Frodsham Hill where a panoramic view of the district awaited. Down a long stone path we walked to the viewing point where a obelisk commemorating the local boys who’d not returned from the Great War stood. If you’ve ever been to the memorial of the 1983 Mt. Macedon bushfires you will know precisely what this place looked like. Along the path instead of snow gums there were oak trees. At the end of the path instead of a cross there was an obelisk. Looking out, instead of broad volcanic plains with a distant Melbourne on the horizon there was the broad Mersey River and a distant Liverpool on the horizon. They’re the only differences….. oh, and the four power stations and the forests of wind turbines!

On the way up we passed the Ring ‘o Bells pub. It was past lunchtime so we popped in. This place gets an A+ for service. We’d barely set foot in the front door when a girl appeared and directed us to a table for two in the front bar. The manager was soon there with menus and ready to take our drinks order. All that may sound a little overbearing and pushy but it was actually really good. The staff made us feel very important to them, not just another couple of antipodean blow-ins. We ordered our drinks and the soup and sandwiches which were both excellent. Perfect for our needs at that time of day. It’s no wonder that they won the J.W. Lees Regional Pub of the Year award this year. Well earned, we say! Highly recommended if you’re ever on Frodsham!

Next on our list was the town of Knutsford. On the way there I spotted one of those brown tourist signs pointing travellers to the village of Anderton where sits the Anderton Boat Lift. This was an opportunity too good to miss so we ignored the instructions and protestations of GPS-girl and headed there. Why so, I hear you say. Well, the Weaver River and the Trent and Mersey canal pass right by each other at Anderton. Trouble is, the canal is 15.2m higher than the river. For ages goods being transported along one waterway had to be unloaded from one narrowboat, carried up or down the hill and loaded into another to continue its journey to its destination. Somehow the two waterways had to be linked. A number of proposals were put forward and the one that won was to build a structure that would lift a narrowboat, still in the water, up or down to the next waterway. A mind-blowing feat of engineering in the modern era let alone in the mid-nineteeth century in the Victorian era. In 1875 the Anderton Boat Lift was open for business and continued to be so for the next 110 years. Its initial design was base purely on hydraulics. Two huge side-by-side troughs of water, each capable of holding two narrow boats, were raised and lowered in sympathy with one another by moving water from the river and the canal through pipes to drive the huge pistons upon which the troughs sat. When one was at canal level the other was at river level. No power was needed to make this all work. Trouble was the river water was very corrosive so the pipes leaked after a while. In 1905 the hydraulics were replaced with electric motors until 1975 when ongoing maintenance became too costly. In 2002 the Anderton Boat lift was re-born using the original hydraulic approach but using modern hydraulic oil instead of water. It’s once again an important link between to the two water ways. I had the privilege of watching a modern day narrowboat make the journey through this ancient engineering marvel. Even more special, this is the only one of it’s kind in the world and one of only two boat lifts in the UK. What a great little detour!

 

 

From Anderton we made it to the town Knutsford but it seems we missed the cute village so we just poked around the nearby country lanes for avoiding all the A roads and whatever B roads we could. After a photo stop at Smithy Green :) we arrived at Swan Green where The Crown pub was just opening for business. Here we spent an hour or so, Kerry doing her craft and me writing the blog (but not this entry). We had a 7pm dinner appointment with Emily so we headed back to Chorlton for that arriving about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Dinner was going to be a picnic in the nearby Longford Park with fish and chips the only item on the menu. Emily found a nice grassy area where we sat on her blanket and enjoyed the fresh evening air. A couple of excitable dogs came to join the party hoping for a scratch and a pat and maybe something to eat. They got all of that when one of them helped himself to Kerry few remaining chips! Their respective owners were quite embarrassed about their “Dogs Behaving Badly” but we loved it!