| BATH
August 9, Thursday
Renata-from-Prague was supposed to leave England at 10 a.m. that day. But when we came into the breakfast room, there she was, serving breakfast, even though the B&B owners had returned the day before. She confided as she gave us our full English Breakfasts that she had too much luggage and bags to take the bus to Bristol. She was going to take a taxi instead, which meant she could leave later. Not much later, as she had a 1:00 flight. She would be home in Prague by 4:00 p.m.
We finished our breakfast and were just going out to try to find Renata to say goodbye, when she came in the breakfast room door. She looked fine in a black top and an artistic necklace. I took a photo of her and Bob, gave her my card on my books, and we hugged goodbyes. That's the happy/sad part of travel. You meet people who enrich your life for a little while, then, like the proverbial ships passing in the night, you leave them forever. We don't even know Renata's last name.
We walked into town on North Parade Route. In the course of our tours, we learned where the names North Parade Street, Grand Parade Street, and Parade Park started. In the social heyday of Bath, the late 1700s and early 1800s, people came to Bath to see and be seen. They spent their days in carriages or strolling on the main streets in their best finery, gossiping and “making the scene.” They “paraded” the streets, and thus the streets were named.
We first went to an Oxfam store. Oxfam is a large British charity organization that does good works worldwide. There is an Oxfam store, what we would call a “thrift store” in practically any town of size. Bath has three of them. In order to keep our luggage under control, we donate to Oxfam and other charity (thrift) shops along our way. This time I was getting rid of two shirts, a book, and a belt.
From Oxfam we stopped into the Jane Austen Center for a couple of postcards, went to a chemists and got Potter's Pastilles for Bob's cough. Bob sat in the Abbey Square while I walked to the bus station and got us tickets for Canterbury. Yes, we had finally decided to go to Canterbury. Well, not exactly decided. It went like this.
Bob: “Why don't you walk down to the bus station and get our tickets for Canterbury now. Then that'll be out of the way.”
Ruth: “Oh, are we going to Canterbury?”
Bob: “Aren't we going to Canterbury?”
Ruth: “I guess we're going to Canterbury. You wait here and I'll go buy the tickets.”
One of the results of my adventures in trying to get to Bath town center was that I discovered the bus station on the other side of the college from the construction mess. I walk faster than Bob, so it's easier for me to go alone on these necessity runs.
When I got back to Abbey Square, we relaxed for a while, listened to a terrible guitarist, and watched the world go by on Abbey Square. After a while we decided it was lunch time, so we strolled down the lane to the beautiful street of flowers. The street did have a name, Stall Street. But I called it Beautiful Street.
Shortly after we got onto Beautiful Street we came abreast of an odd street player. He had just set up with an Australian didgeridoo and a drum. His first Whah! from the didge stopped everything on Stall Street for a nanosecond. The second Whah brought a crowd, including us. The boy was fantastic. He droned and whahed on his didge, while at the same time accompanied himself with thumps on a tom-tom held between his legs. Talk about your primeval rhythms! He had CDs for sale titled “George and his Didge.” I didn't buy one of his CDs, and, of course, now wish I had. If you're ever ambling down a street in Seattle or London and run into a kid named George playing a didgeridoo and a tom-tom, pick me up one of his CDs, will you?
I wanted a cream tea for lunch; Bob was hankering for something with chilli. We came upon a pub before we found a tearoom, so Bob won. We had lunch at the Rat and Parrot. Really! The name is derived from a folk tale, and is quite a popular pub name in Britain. Bob had his chilli on a jacket potato (baked potato). I still wanted sweet, even if I couldn't have a scone and cream. So I ordered the profiteroles dessert. Holy Mackerel! I got a dinner plate with a pile of profiteroles (little cream puffs) topped with ice cream and covered with chocolate syrup. I ate it all. I was almost sick. Didn't think I would want profiteroles again for a while.
When we walked out of the Rat and Parrot there was George and his didge. He had followed us. We listened to him again and dropped some money in his hat. Then we wandered down to Pulteney Bridge.
Pulteney Bridge is beautiful. You can see from North Parade and all along Grand Parade along the Avon River. It was built in 1744, and is still strong enough today to carry tour bus traffic. However, they are restricted as to how many times a day they can cross, and no other heavy vehicles are allowed. There are shops along both sides of the bridge, as there are on the famous Ponte Vecchio in Florence. Pulteney Bridge is unique in that the shops were designed into the bridge, not added later. Pulteney Bridge is actually a three-story building, with rooms on all floors.
The biggest store on the bridge, which is on the southwest end and continues over onto the land is the Orvis Country Clothes. Orvis is from Vermont! I used to get their catalogs years ago. They were primarily a mail order company for fly fishing. They also carried outdoor clothing. Clothing was the thrust of this Orvis store, but there was a fly fishing department at the back. The rest of the shops were English souvenir and jewelry shops and a tearoom that advertised free WiFi.
We crossed the bridge and went down steps at the northeast end of the bridge to get down to river level. There's a weir (dam) in the river right in front of the bridge. It's like a set of wide steps across the river over which the water flows. This is also part of Bath's flood control system. A tour boat in a pool beside the weir was just boarding for a trip upriver. We pair our money, climbed to the top deck, and grabbed some benches near the front. As we were waiting for the trip to begin, I heard, from somewhere behind me, a voice say, “No way, Jose” in an English accent. To amuse her children, a woman on the bench ahead of us was playing “Scissors, Rock, and Paper” with them. I played that with our kids. Slang and games are universal.
It was a slow and peaceful ride under Pulteney Bridge and up the tree-lined river to the village of Bathampton. There was another weir there. We passed two places where Victorian rowboats and canoes could be rented. They were of polished wood and the seats had fancy wrought-iron backs. People out on the river in them waved and called to us. It was like being in a storybook.
After the boat ride we sat on a riverside bench and watched the boats and riverside walkers go by. About 4:30 we made our leisurely way back to Ashley House. When we got into Room 4, we found a note on the pillows of our bed. It told us that we didn't need to take the pillowcases off the pillows, to leave them on. Well, the beige covers were made like our pillow shams, and there were plain white pillowcases underneath. But whatever, they were her pillows. Obviously the owner was back in charge.
We packed up the computer. Bob took it to the Royal Oak, and I made my every-two-day wine run to the newsagents. It was about five-blocks away. I took the wine to the room and went down to the Royal Oak. Bob was still working, so I got a pint and read the paper. When he was done with the computer, he went in to the bar to order us some dinner. I took over the computer. I was just about to tackle my email, when the battery died. Damn!
I ran back to the B&B. Hadn't the landlady unplugged the power cable from the wall and moved the bedside table back precisely where it had been before. I had pulled the table out a few inches to fit the large power adapter into the outlet. My adapter lay on the floor. I was beginning to not like this woman whom I had not met.
I found an outlet on a small shelf next to the fireplace in the pub lounge. I had to unplug their fan, though. It wasn't running. I tucked the computer behind the fan and plugged in my adapter and cable. Then I sat down and ate supper. We split another delicious steak and ale pie with a bit of salad. After supper I stood at the shelf and quickly did my email while Bob chatted with some women from Norway. The sun was just lowering and painted the buildings gold as we strolled back home.
August 10, Friday
We walked into town, across Pulteney Bridge, and down again to the riverside where the boat trips went out. There are three boat companies offering trips on the Avon River. Two of them are above the weir. We went out on one of those yesterday through the country up to the village of Bathampton. We wanted now to take the Bath City Tours below the weir that would go downriver through town. The first boat was to go out at 11:00 a.m. We got to the river at 10:00, so sat on a waterside bench to watch the passing scene.
At 10:40 we got up and strolled to the stairs from which the Bath City Tours would leave. There was no boat there yet. Suddenly, Bob had to go to the bathroom. He took off in search of a public toilet. I sat down on a low wall and waited. It got to be 11:00. No Bob. No boat. I just sat and waited and watched Pulteney Bridge steps and down the river.
Bob showed up on the steps and signaled me to come over to him. He hadn't found a toilet. He wasn't going on a boat until he found a toilet. Well, the boat hadn't showed up anyway.
We consulted our map of Bath. There was a public WC listed in Henrietta Park, a walk of several blocks. We found the park; we found the toilets. Bob was relieved. Since we were already in Henrietta Park, we decided to shelve the boat trip and cut through Henrietta Park to Sydney Park and try to find that canal towpath. Remember when we toured Bath on the Big Red Bus, the guide pointed out a walk into Sydney Park. He told us that it led to a canal towpath that was a beautiful walk to an historic pub. To find a pub along a towpath was an intriguing idea.
We had to ask directions from two different people, but finally we found Sydney Park, and with only a little poking around, the towpath. The day was sunny and got up to seventy degrees. For the second time this summer, we could have used sunscreen, but didn't have any.
We were obviously off the tourist route. The canal was busy with the usual colorful and picturesque longboats. But we also strolled past ramshackle boats that were permanently docked. Rusty grills, piles of lumber, broken-down chairs, and old tires (used as fenders) littered the narrow strip between the path and the canalside at these boats. One even had moose antlers nailed above the cabin door.
Much of the towpath traveled above a woods. There were paths we could see down in the woods below us, and those who knew the ways there walked in the woods or climbed to the towpath as they went along. Across the canal from us, after a while, large homes stood at the backs of elegant lawns and gardens. The locale went from scrubby to swank within a mile or so. Not long after getting into the upscale neighborhood, we came to the pub. Finally. We had walked well over an hour and were beginning to despair of there being a pub anywhere along that canal.
At first, we weren't sure if we had found it. What we saw were two picnic tables on the left of the towpath with people sitting at them drinking beer. We went around them, and discovered steps down the hillside to a large courtyard beside an vine-covered building. We went down and went in. We discovered we were in The George Inn, and we were in Bathampton again, this time the canal side instead of the river.
A server ushered us to a table. That was different. Most neighborhood pubs you walk in and pick a table, and fight for it if you have to. Bob sat down and took off his prescription sunglasses. A bow fell off the glasses onto the table. Not a chance of finding the screw. We were hot and tired, and this was not what we needed.
After looking around on the floor and swearing a bit, I thought to dig into my backpack. I found a $1.00 pair of flea market sunglasses, so that crisis was covered. Then we turned our attention to lunch. Bob had an excellent Greek salad, and I had a cheese and chutney sandwich. What a treat that was! The chutney was like chunky spicy applesauce and went perfectly with the cheese. They were served between slices of thick homemade bread. Add a pint of good stout, and I'd found heaven.
Our moods brightened considerably with rest and food. We had a chatty waitress who encouraged me to explore the inn. The pub really was a fantastic place, hundreds of years old. Two-foot stone walls separated the seven dining rooms, several with fireplaces. The furniture was old and dark. A single tallow candle in a brass candlestick stood on each table. The servers wore white shirts, black pants, and black vests. The atmosphere was upscale, matching the homes we had seen along path.
Bob decided early along that he was not going to walk all the way back to Bath. We got directions to a local bus stop in the village square from the waitress. Again, like in Sydney Park, we went this way and that and had to ask directions. When local people give information, they assume you know things about the area that you don't. You really should ask those old ladies with shopping bags. They do the best job. We did find the village square and the bus stop just five minutes before a bus for Bath was due.
We got off the bus at Sydney Park and walked down Pulteney Street and across the bridge. Bob wanted to show me a classy shopping center he had found when he was looking for a WC. We went down a lane beside Orvis, which paraded New England with a green wooden storefront and dark woods inside. There were huge out-of-doors photos above the displays of fishing tackle and country clothes. I wondered if the photos had been taken in England or Vermont.
The shopping center was down that lane, and it was classy. The building was sleek modern, spacious and light inside, with a bank of escalators in the middle. The city library and some posh restaurants were on the top floor. Other floors had small shops, and at the bottom was a Waitrose market. Waitrose is like our Whole Foods markets, organic, gourmet, with lots of wines. We nosed around in Waitrose for a while and considered some Italian wine, but didn't want to lug it around.
From there we went back across the bridge and down to the Bath City Tour boat stairs. The next trip would be at three thirty. We had a half-hour to wait. So I went over to an outdoor ice cream counter and got a single-dip raspberry with a flake for me and a dip of raspberry and a dip of coconut with a flake for Bob. A flake is a rolled chocolate wafer that is stuck into the top of an ice cream cone. You pay an extra fifty pence for it. When Bob tried to pull his flake out, the coconut ball of ice cream fell off his cone, rolled down his pack strap, and plopped onto the ground. Not his day. He did get to eat the raspberry dip and the flake, though.
The boat came and we got in for the Bath City Tour. It was a short ride, just a half hour, because they had to turn at another weir in the river. The narrator was great, and we learned a lot about life in Bath along the river. The boat made a special stop to see the peregrine falcons' nest in the tower of St. John's Catholic Church. Bath is very proud of these endangered birds. This pair had been there five years, and produced three young. You could more or less see the nest without binoculars. But they passed a pair around, and we could see a lot more. A falcon was perched in a riverside tree, and we were near enough to see her. They're not very big birds, so that was how close were were.
As a climax to the ride, they ran the boat right up into the curve of the weir. That was exciting. As we slowly moved through the rushing waters to the weir, narration ceased and they played music. The effect was terrific!
That was enough for one day. We walked home, too weary to go out anywhere else. Bob made hot tea and we split the leftover half of my lunch cheese and chutney sandwich and a small Twix bar for supper. By nine o'clock we were in bed.
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