I ended my story last week about Easy Jet and their baggage handling procedures after running afoul of their system. This week we are departing the British Isles.
Our plane was to leave Gatwick at 11am but we would not learn our gate number until 40 minutes before the plane was to leave. We passed through security. Even the metal eyelets of my shoes triggered the security alarms as did the security covers of my credit cards.
Then we entered into a vast hall-like facility where there were eateries of all kinds, numerous shops such as duty free goods, clothing shops, and book shops to name a few. Or you could just sit in one of the many comfortable chairs provided by Gatwick Airport Authority.
There were large screens showing every flight leaving Gatwick. Beside each flight number was a message indicating when your gate number would be available. All you had to do was wait for it.
When our gate number was posted, we headed for the gate and sat in the pre-boarding lounge, you all know the drill. Eventually we got into the air and in 2 hours made it to Porto. We flew around the airport for half an hour before landing.
We went through customs, picked up our bag and met with the relatives. We stopped for soup and espressos then made tracks for the seven house hamlet of Val de Ovelha, some 2.5 hours south east of Porto.
Four of the seven houses were occupied, the other three in desperate need of repair by their absentee owners. The hamlet once had a population of over 70 people and even had their own school. The opportunities outside of this rural community reduced their numbers to what it is today, under 10, all adults.
The hillsides around the area had overgrown terraces on which the residents had once farmed. The rock walls supporting the terraces were still in good shape, although some had been uprooted by feral pigs seeking chestnuts which had fallen among the stones. The pigs currently are hunted and eaten by villagers.
Portugal is a country which has springs everywhere, and everywhere there is a spring there is a house or two or seven. Some are are inhabited and some are not.
Each day we would see a different sight. After leaving the hamlet, we always stopped for espressos at a village cafe somewhere and then got on with the business of sight seeing.
One afternoon we had a late lunch at a restaurant beside a lake. Each of us ordered an entree which came with french fries and cooked vegetables. Placed in the centre of the table came more dishes of black beans in sauce, rice, a cooked green leafy shredded vegetable likely cabbage mixed with spiced, toasted bread crumbs, and a basket of bread.
Way too much food. The table of four people next to us ordered two entrees, that was a sensible decision, something I took note of for next time.
The day before we returned to Great Britain, we explored a sanctuary up in the hills that was built in 1892. There were 12 buildings about 600 square feet each and housing one of the Twelve Stations of Christ. Below the buildings was a large square with a fountain in the center.
There were workmen on the site preparing it for the coming tourist season.
The sanctuary had a small community built next to it which had its own large church.
Instead of returning the way we came, we drove higher up the mountain road, which, by the way was paved, until we came to a fork. After consulting a map, we chose the lower running fork, and as the roadway narrowed, it took us to the the edge of a mountain.
The road at this point was only six feet wide and descended the mountain in a series of dizzying switchbacks. Each switchback was widened to accommodate a vehicle with a trailer allowing it to make the corner. One corner was so sharp we had to back up to get around it and our vehicle was a small SUV.
On either side of the road in places were ten foot high yellow flowering shrubs, quite spectacular really, and provided a distraction from the narrowness of the road.
We didn’t meet anyone coming up. If we had done so, one of us would have had to back around to the nearest switchback.
Eventually we made it down safely and returned to the hamlet to prepare for our flight out.
Easy Jet did not have a flight out of Portugal when we needed it, so we chose British Air for our return trip.
We pre-boarded from the computer, we registered our bag. Our fare was less expensive than Easy Jet. British Air even fed us a sandwich and didn’t charge us extra such as West Jet now does for those on the economy fare.
The West Jet economy meals are alright but certainly not worth the extra price we paid. You would be better off bringing your own food on board. There are fountains in the secure area of the airports to fill water bottles.
Two hours of flying and we were on British soil and back to the Premier Hotel at Gatwick where we again bought the “meal deal ” and settled in for the night.
The next day, May 27th, we met with Roy and Carol Scott at Market Harborough, an hour north of London by train. We missed some train connections and were an hour late in meeting with them. Fortunately for us they waited.
Roy hasn’t changed much, he is a few pounds heavier but then so am I. Carol looks pretty much the same as I remembered her. We climbed into their British made 4 door sedan. To sit behind the front seat passenger who is also sitting on the left side of the car is very strange to me.
We drove to a series of locks called the Foxton Locks, on the Grand Union Canal, which are still in operation. At one time the boats were hauled overland until 1911, that is an interesting process, then the locks were built to do the job instead.
We drove to a pub in a neighboring town for a traditional English lunch. My meal is the only one I remember, I had mashed potatoes, gravy and sausages, good food.
We returned to Market Harborough and walked the streets a bit then stopped for espressos. Too soon it was time to return to Gatwick to prepare for our return to Edmonton. We said our goodbyes and boarded the train for London.
In London, at Victoria Station, we turned in our Oyster passes for a refund of our cash and our 5 GBP pass deposit, and then boarded the Gatwick Express for the last time using our Brit Rail passes for the last time for our last train to Gatwick to spend our last night at the Premier Hotel.
Out of the three countries, England is the one I’d like to see more of. There is so much history. Something as simple as walking down the streets, looking at the old buildings and the cobblestones is a marvelous thing to do.
I found the British so helpful, As soon as they heard us wondering out loud what to do and discerned our accent, they reached out to help. It happened all the time, especially in the underground. I’d go back again in a heartbeat.
ruralreportwithlairdsmith@gmail.com