Day 2 - The other side of the world...
13. juni 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C
10:20
42C’s medical attention continues for some time. He's on the oxygen mask for two hours - until the oxygen runs out I assume. After this, he starts to make a substantial recovery. This is obviously great news - but it has rather upset the balance of the flight. Half the cabin crew have been tending to him, and the other half haven’t been able to get past him to carry out the meal service. As a result, we don’t get fed and watered for close to 2.5 hours after take-off. I quickly reason that I’m not going to get much/any sleep on this flight either. Happily, we’ve not much planned for later today, so I can have an afternoon nap of dramatic proportions. Ultimately, I manage a sketchy hour before landing. It’ll have to suffice.
We make up some time in flight, and land just about 15-20 minutes late - plenty of time to make my connecting flight. I’m knackered though. The domestic connection gates are (predictably) on the opposite end of the airport. It takes me about 20 minutes to walk over, but the terminal is well air-conditioned. I’m starting to feel a little feverish and achey though. I’m hopeful this is just fatigue after a hectic few days, rather than anything more sinister.
Arriving at gate A2, I can clearly see Felix. Of course I can - he’s 17 feet tall. It’s a slightly weird, but very cool to meet like this, on the other side of the world. He’s made a friend on his journey from Abu Dhabi into Thailand - a Masters student who’s spending 6 months in Chiang Mai working on a humanitarian aid project.
Our final flight is a puddle jump - maybe an hour in flight. We’re quickly boarded, and leave on time. I cannot WAIT to get into my bed when we get to Chiang Mai…
17:30
The flight to Chiang Mai is one of those that seems to reach its cruising altitude, only to start descent immediately. Chiang Mai is a pretty small, provincial airport. We land at 11:05, have our hold bags in hand by 11:25, and are on our way to our guesthouse by 11:35. We take the scenic route around the town in a pre-booked taxi. We’re staying at the edge of the old town, and I suspect there are lots of small alleys and one way streets. We get ourselves checked in, and I collapse onto my bed. I’m feeling really rather rubbish, and I’m desperately hoping that a good sleep will improve things.
I’m asleep in moments, having just about managed to set an alarm for 17:00. I wake a few times along the way, but basically sleep for a full 5 hours. Waking, I find Felix has done much the same. I’m still not feeling quite right, but I can feel a marked improvement for some decent sleep. I’ll grab some cold and flu remedy at a pharmacy this evening, and hope that that’ll keep things in order.
#prayfortim’ssnuffles
23:00
We meet at 18:00, and set off with no particular destination in mind. We’re neither of us particularly hungry just yet, so figure we’ll just walk for a while, and see where the evening takes us. Chiang Mai seems fairly sleepy. There are a few people out walking on the streets. Most of the people we see are on mopeds/bikes and in cars. We pass a spectacular temple with Chinese style sloped rooves, and a scary looking cat. We amble by a large square, which is being used as a skate park by some half-decent skate-boarders. The city is small enough to feel quite familiar quite quickly. We pause for a pitstop - beer for me, ginger ale for Felix. He stopped drinking a couple of years ago now. I suspect this will do positive things to the amount I would otherwise drink on this trip.
Thirst slaked, we walk on, via a street food market that smells great, but which is occupied by about three times as many stallholders as customers. A man on stage is doing terrible things to an acoustic guitar. We briefly try (and fail) to find a bar nearby called Wetherspoons.
Our wanderings have spiked our appetites, so we head to a restaurant called Link for some dinner. I award myself my first Som Tam (papaya salad) of this trip - its familiar flavours and textures a welcome friend. I also order some deep-fried prawns in a tamarind sauce, which are stellar. Felix has a soft-shell crab and mango dish, which he declares excellent. The bill is comfortably below £30 for both of us, which feels like decent value.
While we’re eating, night has fallen - quickly, as is the way this close to the equator. The temperature is still in the mid 20s, and humidity is high, but it’s a far cry from the oppressive heat of Bangkok in April. Hopefully a sign of things to come. We’re likely to see quite a lot of rain in the next couple of weeks, and this will help keep the heat manageable. Tomorrow, we’re heading up into the mountains, to Pai, which sounds/looks amazing, and a great place to put roots down for a few days. Our bus is at 10:30, so we decide to head back to the hotel and have (hopefully) a good night’s rest. On the way back to the hotel, we see a different side to Chiang Mai, walking down its alleys and back-routes. There is some beautiful street-art on display - some is tagging, others more graffiti based artwork, and others again more classical artwork. It’s everywhere. We’re going to come back via Chiang Mai in a few days before we head South, and I note to myself to learn more about this trend.
Back at our guesthouse, I read for a while, but my eyes are intensely heavy. I set an alarm, and hope for the best.Læs mere
Pheesh! [Angelpheesh]
Day 1 - I've been here before...
12. juni 2024, Arabian Sea ⋅ 🌙 29 °C
06:30
Morning! I’m scooting up the M23, comfortably ensconced in my cab. I’d initially planned to jump on the National Express coach, but the 05:45 departure felt just a touch brutal.
A full day of international travel awaits me. Gatwick via Dubai and Bangkok, and ending in Chiang Mai, in the North of Thailand. 4 weeks later, a flight back from Singapore. In between is kinda up for grabs, with very few fixed plans to speak of - a visit to a national park in Thailand, a flight from Phnom Penh to Singapore. Otherwise, it’s figure out along the way territory.
Oh, and I’m not travelling solo. My companion on this epic journey is not my beloved Vicki, but my cousin, Felix. Accurately, I think he’s my first cousin, once removed - but I’m not hugely up on the specifics of family trees, so ‘cousin’ will suffice. Like me, he lost his Dad last year, and like me, is taking some time out to figure out what’s next. He’s not done any far-flung travel, so I offered to let him join any of this year’s itinerary. I’m half hoping / half expecting that this trip will lead to a lifelong love of exploring the world. I’ll apologise to his bank manager later.
Having spent an amazing few weeks in central and southern Thailand in April, I’m excited to explore the North. I’m expecting a very different pace of life, a new food culture, a path less well worn. Cambodia - I’m not quite so sure what awaits. Speaking to friends who have travelled there, I suspect a simpler and starker way of life, and much more obvious poverty. Amazing things to see, for sure - but a perhaps more challenging culture with which to get to grips, and some really not that ancient history that I think will make me equal parts angry and sad. Singapore is a city I’ve wanted to visit for years, and with which I wanted to bookend this trip, as I’m ready for it to feel so incredibly different to the time in Thailand and Cambodia. Famously the cleanest and most organised city on the planet, the juxtaposition to rural Thailand, and various parts of Cambodia will be fun to experience.
Onwards chariot, to North Terminal!
08:15
There are quite a few more children here than:
a) I’d expected, and
b) is entirely necessary.
I find myself working out whereabouts we are in the school Summer term, and drawing the conclusion that most parents here are taking their kids out of school, and swallowing the resulting fine from the Local Education Authority, rather than paying the depressingly gargantuan price hikes of the Summer holidays. I grab some breakfast with a coffee, which feels terribly grown up. I’m soon lusting, however, after the peace and quiet (I know, it’s an airport, how dare I etc etc) of a bar with an over 18s policy.
08:45
I’ve been here before. I’m in Brewdog in Gatwick North terminal departures, readying myself for an Emirates flight. Two months ago, with Vicks, on part one of our trip to Thailand. Three months ago, on my tod, heading to Sri Lanka. I’m equal parts amazed and delighted that it doesn’t feel remotely stale. I have the same, raw excitement to be heading off on my travels that I did on each of those previous occasions.Vicki asked me yesterday if I think I’ll get bored of it by, I don’t know - this time next year, when I plan/hope to be going back to work. I really don’t think so. Every time I travel, every place I go, it just spurs me to go to more and new destinations. I’m fully expecting to catch a South American bug when we visit Brazil in October - and subsequently to want to journey to Chile, Colombia, Argentina, Peru. I’ve not even begun to explore Central America, and much of Africa remains unknown to me. I particularly want to spend some time in southern Africa that’s NOT South Africa - the 3 Ms of Madagascar, Mali and Mozambique feel like a good starting point, perhaps with a bit of Mauritius tacked on as well. And despite spending a chunk of time in South East Asia, I’ve got a tremendous itching to see Indonesia, the Philippines, Laos and Myanmar. And I really ought to get to China at some point. There’s definitely enough to keep me busy for a few years yet.
Brewdog have the over-18s policy I’m craving, and it’s a calm oasis amidst the buzzing throng of the departure lounge. I spend a delightful hour reading back some of my travel journals from this year’s trips. My sabbatical is flying past, but it feels an age ago that we were in New York over my birthday, in November last year. I’ve packed a huge amount into my break so far, and count myself incredibly fortunate to have a lot more fun and frolics yet to come.
Felix lives in York, along with much of my extended family. As a result, he’s flying from Manchester, via Abu Dhabi, and we’ll have some kind of family reunion in a bar in Bangkok Airport, before we jump on the same flight to Chiang Mai. It all feels very jet-set. Our flights leave at similar times. He’s at the airport in the departure lounge, currently deciding what useless tat to buy. We briefly discuss my stealing a rather attractive Brewdog pint glass, and creating an Insta account to record its travels around SE Asia.
I’m conscious there are things happening in the UK while I’m gone - some of which are a shame to miss, others - less so. I can’t pretend I’m not delighted to be missing the next three weeks of electioneering in the UK. The first couple of weeks have been more than enough for me. That said, I’ll definitely be setting an early alarm for the 5th July, to watch the results come in, and hopefully see a few Tories crying in school gymnasiums (gymnasia?).
I’m not too sad to be missing all but the final of the European Championships either. I’ve never been *that* fussed about international football. I remember being excited as respectively 8 and 12 for the ’86 and ’90 World Cups, but beyond that, I’ve never really got the fizz for big, international competitions. I’ll keep an eye from afar, but it’s reassuring to know I won’t feel like tracking down a bar in which to watch whatever England game at 03:00 local time.
I AM gutted to miss Glastonbury, and (as ever) a bunch of friends are going, and I know they’ll have the most amazing time. Vicki and I will try again for tickets next year. We both feel like we’ve got at least one Glasto left in us, and perhaps more… The headliner line-up this year doesn’t do that much for me, but I’ve said that at previous Glastos, and ended up having an incredible time exploring smaller stages and generally wombling around.
Most of all, I’ll miss my awesome Vicki. This is comfortably the longest we’ll ever have been apart. The ways of the modern world mean there are ample means to keep in touch, but it’s never the same as staring at her beautiful face…
20:43
My flight is called at 09:05. I hardly dawdle. I refill my water bottle, nip to the gents quickly, and head straight to the gate - where I’m chided as the gate is already closing? I can only assume the flight is pretty empty today, and so processing folks onto the plane has happened more quickly than usual. I’m on a 777-300, which whilst by no means a small plane, still flies about 50% of the passengers of an Emirates A380 leaving Gatwick. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m a little disappointed not to be on an A380 for this leg. Happily though, I arrive to my seat to find the other 2 in my row empty. The cabin crew guy tells me that there’s really no-one else to board, so I’ve got the row to myself = RESULT. Somebody in a row behind asks a flight attendant if they can have one of my seats, and are told no - it’s only for special people like me.
We push back a little early, and take off in good time. It’s tricky to rationalise the really pretty busy terminal earlier, with the pleasantly relaxed and quiet journey to Dubai. I guess the hordes of kids I encountered earlier are largely heading off on shorter trips - maybe across Europe?
I’m pretty jaded after an early start, and not a ton of sleep. I forego the lunch offering (but not the wine course), and try to grab some shut-eye. There is, unfortunately, a very screamy kid sitting across the aisle from me. He’s not crying, or even upset - he just likes to shout, a LOT. I manage to get an hour or so of scratchy sleep, but his screams pervade even my trustiest of noise cancelling cans. I try and catch his mum’s eye on a couple of occasions, but she’s having none of it.
I give up on the notion of sleep, and watch Dune 2. I figure that a 3 hour movie will take a large chunk out of the flight. I loved it in the cinema, and despite the scale not being quite as impressive on a 14” screen, it’s still a brilliant, brilliant film.
I wonder about having a glass of wine. My throat, though, is a little tight and sore. I’ve been a bit snuffly for a couple of days, and wonder if I’ve got a little bit of lurgy kicking around. I’ll grab some lozenges at Dubai Airport. We’re making good time, and the First Officer updates us to let us know we’re probably going to land a little early. Summertime has hit Dubai - gone are the pretty manic floods of a couple of months ago. The temperature is 39C, and weather shouldn’t delay us. You can never completely rule out a sandstorm in the UAE though…
We pull into our gate around 19:50 - fully 15 minutes ahead of schedule. I’m at a B gate, and departing from the A Concourse. Sadly, this denies me a return visit to the Hard Rock Café. I make do instead with a bar called Jack’s, and slide into a large glass of red wine. Haven’t seen a pharmacy yet, but I’ll deffo check that out in a mo.
Felix and I have a slightly surreal conversation, where he’s in an airport 50 miles down the road, and slightly bored. I treat myself to a further glass of Merlot, in the hope that it’ll help me kip for a good few hours on my next flight. Here’s hoping / fingers crossed / touch wood etc etc.
23:55
My flight’s a little delayed leaving Dubai. We board in good time, but there’s apparently an electrical issue. To fix it, the crew are going to (I’m not kidding) turn it off, and turn it back on again. It works, but we’ve missed our take off slot, and have to join the queue for another. We finally get underway around 23:00. Take off’s fine. I get up when the seatbelt sign is turned off to grab my cans, and find three cabin crew around a passenger in the row behind me. They’re taking his temperature, checking his blood pressure and so on. He’s clearly not in a good way. Without wanting to be *too* much of a twat about it, they’re also sitting right where I need to be to get into the overhead locker. I stand, waiting patiently - ultimately for upwards of 30 minutes. By this point, 42C (for that’s his seat…) has an oxygen mask. I begin to wonder whether we’re going to need to divert, or return to Dubai….Læs mere
Day 16 - Home. Reflections...
17. maj 2024, England ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C
Day 16 - Home. Reflections…
15:30
The dinner service is blissfully rapid, and an hour into the flight, I’m donning my headphones and eye-mask to catch some snooze. I sleep for a shade under 5 hours, which is a decent result. I’m in a Premium Economy seat, and the extra legroom makes such a difference to my sleeping chances.
We’re actually early landing into Heathrow. The Atlantic jet stream has helped us along, without some of the crazy turbulence I’ve experienced in the past on flights back from the US. We pull up to a remote stand at 13:45. Getting through T3 is a breeze. There’s zero queue at passport control, and my bags are already on the carousel when I get into baggage reclaim. I meet Andy at 14:10, and we’re on the road moments later.
A few reflections on my time in the US…
1) I adore road trips. Some of the journey times would, I suspect, have been more than Vicki would have wanted to bear, but I was quite comfortable spending 7 hours in the car on some days. My decision largely to avoid interstates was a good one, and I got to see so much more of the states through which I travelled than I would have done on the freeway.
2) Southern hospitality is a thing. Everywhere I travelled in the South I was greeted with open arms - figuratively (and literally on one occasion). All of the folks I met were kind, warm-hearted and welcoming.
It’s very easy to eat well across the US. It’s easy to eat badly, if that’s your thing, but the quality of food in diners, bars and restaurants is brilliantly high.
3) Prices in those places vary massively. The cheapest diner breakfast (eggs, toast, hash browns) I ate was around $6. The most expensive around $16.
4) I am declaring a volte face on Florida. My preconceptions of the state have largely been based on theme parks vacation spots around Orlando, and the questionable politics of the state’s Governor. Miami is a brilliant city, and I can’t wait to go back. The Everglades are a stunningly beautiful ecosystem, the Keys are wonderful, and I even enjoyed the slightly hicksville ambience of Polk County…
5) At no point did I feel unsafe, I suspect in part because my route avoided major cities (Nashville and Miami aside).
6),Getting your Sativa and Indica vapes mixed up is not aa great idea.
That’s all for now. Thanks for reading. I’ll be back in 3 weeks for some more Thailand, a dollop of Cambodia, and just a little pinch of Singapore.Læs mere
Day 15 - This is a land of confusion
16. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
20:30
I wake up after a good sleep, but with a slightly groggy head. I challenged myself to empty the fridge before bed, which meant the last beer, and a couple of glasses of wine. I pack for the final time - which means actually getting stuff into my suitcase. One of the things I most enjoy about road trips is having a car in which to dump carrier bags and the like, rather than having to fully pack my suitcase each and every time I’m moving on. I’ve had a black rubbish sack for dirty clothes, a green fabric shopping bag from Sri Lanka for clothes that are worn, but out of which I can probably eke at least one more wear, and a blue Whole Foods bag from Las Vegas that has been the carrier of my booze’n’food along the way. Not this time - everything’s got to go back into my hold luggage. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but goes in happily enough.
I’m still not really sure what to do with myself today. I’m erring on the side of heading up to Miami in good time, dumping the car and my bags, then heading into the city for some beers and food. First, I head further along the northern Keys, stopping at a beautiful little state park named for John Pennekamp. No? Me neither. It’s very pretty though, and I spend a relaxing half hour wandering around the coast line. I try to get to Angelfish Cay, to take a picture of it for Karin, but am denied by a closed road. I stop for a late breakfast at a very cool little café called The Hide Out, and then get on the road North for Miami.
I’ve been assiduously avoiding tolls while I’ve been in the US - not a cost management strategy, but because I’ve been genuinely unsure how to pay for the toll roads, in a world of automated / electronic gates. I decide to finally read the materials I was given when renting the car, and it turns out there’s a very simple way - there’s a transponder on the windscreen, which I basically need to, well - turn on. This cuts my journey time to Miami in half. My flight isn’t until 23:30 tonight, so I’ve got a bunch of time to kill.
Approaching the city, I see signs for an Outlet Mall, which includes a Columbia store. For those unfamiliar, Columbia is an outdoors / activewear brand - think North Face, and you’re not a million miles away. I’ve been on the lookout for some ultra light/quick dry shorts and zip-off trousers for a while now, and if the prices are decent, this could be a godsend. I’m not 100% convinced I have room in my luggage, but let’s worry about that later. The discounts are immense. A pair of Columbia convertible trousers in the UK would cost me close to £100. Here, I pick up 3 pairs for $30 each. Their lightweight shorts would be £60 at home. Here, $20 per pair. I walk out with close to £500 worth of clothes for £140. I then buy a small duffel bag to pack them in, and I’m still ahead by £300.
Pleased with my endeavour - because it’s saved me a ton of cash, and because it’s consumed an hour of my boring waiting time, I reward myself with a visit to ‘World of Beer’ a sports bar a few miles from the airport. I have a pint of Voodoo Ranger, and some loaded tots.
I arrive at the car hire return garage at 15:00. During my stop at WOB (that’s what they call themselves) I’ve realised there’s a Virgin flight leaving at 18:45. Now - bear with me for a moment. When I originally booked my flights to Dulles / out of Miami, my return flight departed at 19:00, arriving into Heathrow around 09:00 on Friday morning. Months back, I got an email from Virgin saying my flight had been changed, and was now a 23:35 departure. Meh, but ok. these things happen. I now find that there’s a flight leaving at almost exactly the same time as my original booking, which I’d much rather have been on. All my flights on this trip are freebies, so I shouldn’t complain *too* loudly, but I’m at least going to head to the ticket office / check-in desk, and see if there’s a chance I can get on the earlier flight.
Nope. No chance. The 18:45 flight is actually over-booked, so zero possibility of me blagging my way onto it. The check-in attendant says my later flight is very close to full. It’s clearly a busy route for Virgin. She does, however, offer to check-in my bags, even though my flight’s not for 8 hours. I accept - somewhat foolishly as it turns out, as I check in the duffel bag with my new purchases, which ALSO has my hoodie, and trouser legs. Hopefully, the plane won’t be too cold.
So - I’ve got 7 hours at Miami airport, a decent whack of funds, and a small notion that I shouldn’t just sit in a bar (many bars) and get hammered. My first port of call is a bar - this does not bode well. They have a beer called Dogfish Head 90. I’ve got previous with this beer. When I went to California for a work conference in 2015, it’s the beer that I thought lovely, until I’d had 7 of them. Then, when going to leave, I fell off my chair. Only in hindsight did I discover that the ’90’ refers to the ABV, which is 9%. Ever since, I’ve considered that the 90 stands for how many minutes it takes to get you broadly pissed. It was a very strange day. The conference was at Disneyland in Anaheim. Stumbling around like the pissed idiot I was, I bumped into Goofy, and then Minnie Mouse. They were all very kind. I was also gifted my beers by a lovely couple from Minnesota, who had joined me, sitting at the bar. When I told them it was my birthday (which it really was), they secretly paid my drinks bill. That was around 15:00 on the Sunday afternoon. I went back to my room for a ‘rest’ and woke up at 07:00 on Monday morning, just in time for the conference to start.
Anyhoo… I’m very well behaved, and have just one of these sneaky little buggers, then sit for a while and catch up on some tablet TV. It’s pushing 18:30 now, so decide it’s probably ok to head through security, having confirmed that my plane is inbound, and due to land soon. The security checkpoint promises a 15-19 minute wait. This is pure bullshit. I realise that as soon as I arrive to the queue. There are 3 of the brand new, 3D scanners available - meaning no need to remove shoes, remove liquids, electronics - but the TSA team responsible for processing passengers have only got 1 of them open. As a result, the queue moves incredibly slowly. At one point, a group of 3 ask if they can move in front of me, because their flight departure time is rapidly approaching. I huff and puff, look at my watch - but let’s face it, my plane leaves in 5 hours, so it’s very little skin off my nose. They repeat this process with 5-6 more people, then hit old grumpy bollocks. An elderly gent (75? 80?) vociferously points out that he arrived to the airport in plenty of time, and maybe they should next time too. I struggle to internalise a chortle. The untrepid explorers flag down a TSA womble, who says he can’t help, and it’s really up to the other customers if they’re allowed through or not.
Finally through, I head for the nearest bar/restaurant. It’s 19:30. Time is advancing. I sit down, order a beer, and am immediately told the bar closes at 20:00. WTAF? Checking the airport’s website, it transpires that NONE of their hostelries are open past 22:00. My flight doesn’t even begin boarding until 23:00. I’m going to have to work this out incredibly carefully… This bar has more of the Dogfish Head 90 on tap. I treat myself to a couple, before they sling me out. Ceremoniously - if that’s even a thing.
Near my gate there’s a ‘Corona Beach House’ which is at least open until 22:00. I um and ah - Corona is a long way from my favourite beer, but needs must. I grab a seat at the bar, and - joy! They have a wine list, a cocktail menu, and more of that Dogfish Head 90. I decline the beer - I feel a bit full anyway. Mojito please! Oooh, and then a Stormy Daniels. No, that’s not right. A Dark and Stormy. Yes, that’s more like it.
21:50
More Dark and Stormy please.
22:35
This is one of the things I adore about US airports. I spend a brilliant half hour chatting to… Nope. Can’t remember his name. He’s from Canada, but lives in Miami. He’s on his way home to Toronto, and gives me some great advice about stuff to do in Toronto itself, in Manitoba, in Vancouver when I/we finally get there. We both spend a little while marvelling at the upwards filled pints (see video), which is one of the coolest things I think I’ve ever seen.
He (nameless) has to leave t get his flight. That’s fine. I can keep myself company with my Darks and Stormies. I’m just settling into my book, when the next guy along the guy interrupts me. He’s Walker - a 22 year old who’s on his way to Brazil for a month. He’s that rarity in the US - a youngster who actually want’s to leave the country. I buy him a beer, he buys me a D+S, and we talk about the evils of capitalism. I’m both jealous of his trip, and excited to steal some ideas for my, Vicki and Tam’s trip later this year. I ask him, as I seem incapable of not doing, of his voting intentions in November. He was pissed off not to be old enough last time around. He’s gay, and should feel like a Democrat vote is his only tangible option. I’m concerned to hear that this politically active kid is barely interested in the election, due largely to Biden’s:
1) age
2) senility
3) luke warm position on traditionally Democrat views
If the Dems can’t pick up this kid to vote for them, they might just be fucked.
The bar kicks us out as advertised at 22:00. I hug Walker goodbye, and head round to the departure gate. Hey - at least it’s air-conditioned.
23:55
Boarded, and furnished with my glass of bubbles. I’m determined to sleep for as long as I possibly can. But I’m also hungry, and want some food.
QUANDARIES.Læs mere
Day 14 - Livin’ on Key West Time
15. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C
17:00
I’m sad to leave my little enclave in Homestead. It’s such a blissful and chilled out place to spend time. Onwards though, to the Keys. I’d be lying if I said I really knew anything about the Keys, except that it’s where a lot of the South American drugs bound for the US are landed, and there’s a lot of fishing to be done there. I’m up in good time, and on the road by 08:30. I decide to head straight down to Key West, at the very tip of the Keys archipelago, and home to the southernmost point of the continental United States.
The traffic’s a little clunky getting out of Homestead and Florida City, but after a few miles, I’m into an easy, fast cruise. It’s about 150 miles, all the way along the venerable US Highway 1 - the 2,370 mile road that runs the entire length of the eastern seaboard of the US. It’s been my constant companion for the past week, and ends at Key West. There’s nothing standout about the drive, but that doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of it. The Keys are a bustling community, and I spend a great couple of hours watching the world go by as I cruise on by. ‘Towns’ here are really just collections of buildings alongside the highway, intersected by giant road bridges between the islands. I won’t pretend that I’m not slightly entranced by it. Even the Sat Nav keeps me entertained - there's something strangely hypnotic seeing the road on which you're travelling stretch for miles, but with only water on either side of you. Likewise, the view of the road bridges stretching out for miles in front of the car is unfamiliar, but inviting.
Arriving into Key West, I’m both hungry and thirsty. There’s a seafood place called Eaton’s Seafood Market that I’ve read good things about, so head there for some lunch, and a massively needed beer. They deliver on both fronts. I have a crab-cake sandwich, some stellar onion rings, and a quite pokey hazy IPA that gives me just a little bit of a a haze.
Key West is an interesting town. My good friend Jolene has described it as ‘New Orleans but with old people.’ I’ve not been to New Orleans, but somehow understand exactly what she means. I suspect in the height of Summer, and over a weekend, this place is a wild ride. Here and now, before the Summer season really kicks off, it’s a slightly circumspect experience. There are countless golf buggies on the roads, and I've seen several hire shops around the town. I can't believe the DUI rules are any different to driving a standard car or truck, so I'm not entirely sure what the point is. This is what Google's for. *HOLD PLEASE CALLER*
Ah, ok - so it's partly because a lot of the roads in Key West are quite narrow (to which I can attest) and that parking is limited (to which I can also attest), ergo - golf buggies.
I set off to find the southernmost point of the USA, and find…. a queue. There are about 50 people queueing to take a picture next to the monument. I mean - I guess it’s a thing if you’re not from here, but I enjoy taking pictures of the people taking pictures. There are a couple of other places I’d wanted to check out while I was in town, but there are reports of rain-storms coming in later, and I don’t particularly fancy a long drive in the rain, so set off for Key Largo. I meet some rain, but it’s hardly a patch on the torrential experiences I had back in Virginia (which feels like an eon ago, by the way) and by the time I’m arriving into Key Largo, it’s sunshine all the way.
I find my accommodation easily enough, and am pleasantly surprised. I’ve got a large, one bedroom apartment, with a balcony overlooking the marina. It’s lovely. I settle down with a much deserved glass of wine, and take the load off.
21:00
I head out around 18:00, conscious that I’ve not eaten much today, and have limited supplies at my apartment. Bizarrely / irritatingly, the place I want to get to is 20m from my apartment. It is, however, on the other side of the Marina, and there’s no obvious bridge across which to pass. I briefly consider swimming across, but end up walking the long way around, which is c. 20 minutes. It’s still hot, even though the sun is kissing the horizon. I arrive somewhat sweaty, and urgently in need of a beer. The beer is quickly sorted. I’ve no idea what it is, beyond a very pleasant IPA. I order another, and perhaps a third. The menu deserves a peruse, so I indulge it. There’s a cracking sounding grouper special, so I jump in. It’s fab. Grouper is redolent of cod, but with more flavour, and better texture. I very fondly remember having ‘grouper fingers’ in the Bahamas about 35 years ago, which my Dad rechristened groper fingers - obvs. These days they’d be called grouper goujons, and be thrice as expensive. The fourth beer is the one that really hits the spot.
I briefly consider popping to the downstairs bar, where there’s some half decent live music playing, but am conscious that I’m jaded, and rapidly approaching refreshed. I check the IPA details on the way out. It’s an 8.2% whopper. Of course it is. I walk (rather than stumble) back to my apartment, which is deliciously frosty, and grab a beer from the fridge, the last of the six pack I bought on about day 2 of my trip. My only fixed plan tomorrow is to be at Miami Airport by 18:00, and the airport’s only a couple of hours away…Læs mere
Day 13 - See ya later, alligator
14. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
19:30
I’m awake at 04:45. I was asleep fairly early last night, so it’s no surprise. I feel like I’ve slept well, and have more than enough time for a nap later if the urge takes me. I head out for some breakfast, to a Puerto Rican place. Huevos Rancheros with Tostones and Refried Beans. It’s banging. The tostones are a revelation. They’re made from green plantain, grated, and then fried like a hash-brown. Delicious. The refried beans are also awesome. I think most folks in the UK think of these as bland, stodgy goop. These are anything but. Texture, bite, tons of flavour.
I head North about 30 miles to Coopertown for an airboat ride through the Everglades. It’s only 10:00 when the boat sets off, but the sun is already hot., so much so that I’ve covered myself in SPF50 for the ride. The noise of the airboat is really something. The best way I can describe it is like a hovercraft without the inflatable skirt. We move through the wetlands at close to 50mph, and as low down to the water as we are, it feels every bit of it. Our boat pilot, John, stops occasionally to talk us through this incredible habitat. I’m surprised to learn that the Everglades is neither swamp, nor (strictly speaking) a wetlands, but rather the slowest moving river in the world, flowing at around 1/2 mile per day. It’s a vibrant ecosystem, teeming with wildlife. Alligators are the star attraction, but there are interesting species of fish, birds, turtles and terrapins, otters, bears, panthers… I mean - we see very little of it at 50mph, but we’re assured it’s there…
We do spot a ‘gator during the trip. He’s a big guy, around 4m long. We try not to disturb him, but he turns, and starts swimming towards the boat - right around the time John is telling us that the alligators can climb into the boat if they wish. I involuntarily flinch. The ‘gator decides against it though, and swims away from us. He’s a gnarly looking creature. Certainly wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. This will sound weird though. They don’t have *quite* the same evil look as crocodiles. I suspect I’d lose a fight against either, but crocs just look at you like they can see you naked, on a spit-roast, over a BBQ. Alligators look to me to be slightly more benign. The only way I can rationalise this (bear with me, I’ve given this quite a lot of thought) is that alligators’ teeth have evolved to settle into their upper and lower jaws when their mouth is closed. Crocodiles’ teeth have not - they stick out of the mouth when the mouth is closed. I think it’s the lack of overt teeth that makes the alligator seem like the kind of cuddly, misunderstood teddy-bear that I’ve somehow forced myself to believe.
It’s 11:00 by the time I get back on the road, and I head South West to Flamingo, a tiny community at the very southern tip of the main Florida peninsula. The drive through the Everglades is quite hypnotic - long, straight roads, and at one point I don’t see another car for 45 minutes. I stop to walk a couple of short trails along the way. I’m hopeful of seeing some more wildlife, but am cruelly denied. The ecosystem is beautiful to look at, but I’d have liked to have encountered a few more species.
I have a wander around Flamingo, and grab a very decent Cuban sandwich for lunch, along with a much needed beer. The restaurant is part of a new development, with lodging. I suspect (hope) it’s only recently opened, as I’m the only customer when I arrive. An additional 3 people arrive while I’m there. It’s hardly buzzing. Memorial Day weekend is coming up in a couple of weeks, so hopefully they’ve got a bit more business coming their way soon.
My sandwich and beer have left me sleepy. It’s an easy cruise back to my AirBnB, where a nap beckons. I wake up at 17:00 - but only just. I could quite happily have slept on. I decide that a dip in the hot-tub will help wake me up. It does. I briefly consider going out into Homestead, but decide to take it easy this evening. I’ve got beers and wine to finish before I fly home on Thursday, and they won’t drink themselves…Læs mere
Day 12 - Down in the Everglades
13. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 33 °C
16:30
I wake up around 08:00, having had a brilliant sleep. Definitely for the best to have a quiet day yesterday. By 09:30, I’m packed, on the road, and heading due West out of Miami. This morning’s drive will fully take me from the Atlantic over to the Gulf of Mexico. The drive is a fast, straight one. I count perhaps 3 slight curves to the road in 2 hours and 120 miles - other than that, arrow straight.
I arrive into Naples, and head South along the coast, arriving into a tiny place called Goodland around midday. It has a bar/restaurant, a bait shop, and that’s about it. I decide my stomach is up to being fed, so park up and head into the bar. A pint of an American Pale Ale (APA) called Reef Donkey to whet my whistle, and a Mahi Mahi sandwich. The beer’s excellent, and the sandwich even better. I’ve had Mahi Mahi before, but it’s never been this good. The fish is blackened with Cajun spices, and hard grilled. It’s delicious - incredibly moist, incredibly tasty. Critically, it ‘settles’ well in my stomach. I spend a fun half hour chatting to some of the bar regulars. I genuinely think this might be a hangout for retired wise guys. There are regular references to ‘Jimmy the Fish,’ who sounds calamitous at best. They also talk about someone called ‘Tough Tony’ who I *think* has recently died. They all sound like they’re from the Bronx, and they’re all getting very excited watching a Yankee game on the TV. Mindful that I might get whacked if I’m not careful, I settle my bill, and scarper.
The drive back East is fairly uneventful. I’m staying in a town called Homestead, about 30 miles South West of Miami, about 90 minutes drive from Goodland. I stop along the way to see what is claimed to be the smallest Post Office in the USA. It’s smaller than the garden shed I had in Crawley, so I can believe this to be true. I stop at the hugely misleading Shark Valley, where there are no sharks. I take a short walk along the the Shark Valley loop, but quickly realise the sun is properly hot. It’s a 15 mile loop, so I suspect I’d not quite make it all the way round before expiring. There’s a tram tour, but not for another 2 hours. I’ll come back tomorrow…
I arrive into Homestead around 15:45. My AirBnB is AWESOME. A really lovely space, and very considerately appointed by the owners. I’d stay here and write more, but the room has a hot-tub, and it’s calling to me… I shall repair there, along with a glass of the fab red wine the hosts have given me. Catch up tomorrow…Læs mere
Day 11 - Brown Town : Population, 1
12. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
21:00
My day starts well. I’m up in decent time, and head out around 08:00, heading to South Beach. The drive over to the beach is pretty spectacular. The road bridges around this part of Florida are wild, spanning, in some cases, miles and miles of roadway right down by the water. This one’s a couple of miles long, and deposits me into the heart of the Bay Harbour Islands. I park up, and find a great diner for breakfast. It’s a proper Airstream trailer place, and has tons of character. The breakfast is awesome as well.
After breakfast, I head for the beach. The sand is such a bright white, and incredibly fine. Vicks sent me a picture of Brighton Beach yesterday, and the difference in underfoot conditions couldn’t be greater. I spot an absolutely pristine 2nd Gen Pontiac Firebird. If you’ve seen Smokey and the Bandit, you’re in the right territory. The Art Deco architecture is beautiful, and the streets are bursting with bars and restaurants. It’s supposed to be quite a sight at night, but I’ll save that for a trip back to Miami with Vicki.
I head back to my apartment to drop off the car, ahead of going to a baseball game. I don’t feel great though. A quick trip to the bathroom (and I do mean quick…) is required, and it appears the brown rains have arrived. Immediately, I put it down to something I’ve eaten, but Vicki sensibly points out that I’ve spent a LOT of time in the sun/heat over the past couple of days, and both days have been quite boozy. Her lucid explanation makes quite a lot of sense. I sack off the baseball game, not feeling quite confident enough to leave the safety blanket of a cold room, and a close toilet. I’d also planned to see Dre, along with his other half, Maria, and his three sons later this afternoon, but decide against this in as:
a) I feel pretty rubbish, and
b) I don’t want to take a chance that I might have picked up a bug along the way
I sleep for a good 3 hours in the afternoon, and wake up feeling, if not better, then at least a little less shocking.
I spend the evening watching movies and chilling out. I’ve been on the road, and pretty manic for the past 10 days, so maybe I just need a slow day, and a bit of a rest.
Around 21:30, I decide to head back to snooze, and hope I’m not awake before dawn…Læs mere
Day 10 - Miami Vices
11. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
23:30
It’s been a long, but fruitful day.
I’m on the road before 08:00, headed East towards the Atlantic coast. I swing by Spook Hill - a gravity hill, that makes it appear that your car is rolling uphill. It’s an optical illusion, but still kinda weird to get your head around.
My first pit-stop is nearly 3 hours down the road, but worth the journey/detour. Morikami is a beautiful Japanese garden, a couple of miles inland from the coast. It’s incredibly serene, and I spend a hugely enjoyable hour or so, just ambling around the different garden sections. I see a giant terrajeff, happily swimming in one of the several lakes. There’s a bonsai exhibition, with some spectacular specimens, some of which are over 100 years old. The sun’s beating down, but there are plenty of shady spots to keep out of it.
I’m only about 50 miles North of Miami, but have another few hours in the car. Traffic is heavy for a Saturday afternoon. I head for Hollywood Beach, just South of Fort Lauderdale, The mercury’s nudging 38C, so instead of walking up and down the sunbaked boardwalk, I stop in a beachfront café for a couple of tacos, and an ultra cold beer. In the space of 5 minutes, I see 3 of the most pneumatically enhanced women I think I’ve ever seen. Honestly - the chest on one of them looks like it must require regular topping up with a bicycle pump.
I continue South, into Miami. The drive into the city centre feels familiar, despite my never having been here. I attribute this to the many TV shows I’ve watched that are based in the city. My AirBnB is in South Miami, in Little Havana. I find it easily enough. The room’s great - part of a Cuban casita. Everything I need, nothing I don’t. I freshen up and head out for a drink. I’m meeting my buddy Dré at 19:00, and figure I should be able to find a decent Mojito to keep me company.
I happen upon a Cuban bar called Guantanamera. Heading inside, I’m a little shocked to encounter thick clouds of cigar smoke. I’d thought/assumed that smoking of any kind indoors would be verboten anywhere in the US. Apparently not. These guys sell cigars - though not Cuban, due to the US’s ongoing trade embargo with Cuba. I’ve never enjoyed smoking cigars, but have always found the smell of the strangely comforting. I order a Mojito , fairly quickly followed by another Mojito. They’re very moreish. A band strikes up, and the tiny dance floor is quickly filled with some very enthusiastic folks throwing groovy shapes.
I meet Dré at Café La Trova, a fab Cuban restaurant in the heart of Little Havana. Over a couple more Mojitos, we catch up, and enjoy some ceviché, salt cod fritters and Cuban style beef sandwiches. Banging. After a quick amble in the cooling evening, we end up back at Guantanamera for more Mojitos. There’s live music, some interesting outfits, cigar smoking, some kind of DJ - it’s all really rather fun. I stop counting the Mojitos at 6, or was it 7?Læs mere
Day 9 - St Pete’s
10. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ 🌙 27 °C
22:30
I wake up after a good sleep, but with a strange, empty feeling. This morning is the memorial service for Micky. Em’s organised a livestream from the cathedral, and whilst I’m glad to be able to join the service, I’m feeling incredibly lonely, and distant. The service is at 10:00 local time. It’s a beautiful send off for a wonderful, wonderful man. The music is stirring, the singing rousing, the dedications heartfelt and heart-breaking. I treat myself to a glass of wine to accompany the service, and spend most of the 90 minutes in tears. I’m glad to have been a part of it - even from 4,000 miles away, but fuck - that was tough.
I’m not entirely in the mood for fun and frolics, but if anyone can lift me from this darkness, it’s Andy. We set off for St Petersburg, a 90 minute drive over to the West Coast. It’s a bit of an enclave in Florida - lots of art, cool places to eat, microbreweries, and a vibrant LGBTQ+ community. We start with a well deserved beer at 3 Daughters brewing, with a couple of great tacos to line the stomach. We then march (womble is probably closer to it) around the neighbourhood, taking in some of the great mural work that’s part of an annual street art festival. Some of it’s absolutely brilliant. It’s properly hot today - 37c, and so we must make regular pitstops to keep ourselves hydrated / topped up with beer.
Around 16:00, we head into downtown St Pete’s, and take a walk around the central neighbourhoods. The streets are busy with Friday afternoon revelry. Bars with seating spilling out onto the streets, restaurants that put out a brilliant smell as we walk past them. It’s still banging hot though, so we seek refuge in a ‘pour it yourself’ beer hall. They have c. 40 beers on tap. You don a wristband, which you wave at the beer pump you want, then pour as much as you want. It’s a great concept - similar to a wine place I tried in London a few years back. The beers we try are all excellent, and it’s a really fun way to try beers that you otherwise might avoid.
It’s 18:20, and we should probably head back to Auburndale. We navigate (Andy navigates) the Friday night rush hour traffic on the interstate. It’s reassuring to see that there are just as many (if not more) dickheads in Friday rush hour on US roads than the UK. Back in Auburndale, we head to a brewpub called the Crave and Copper for some food. It’s excellent - sort of high end pub grub / junk food. Brilliant loaded tater tots, some awesome chicken wings, a smoked fish dip that is better than it deserves to be. The only slight let down is Andy’s shrimp and grits, which doesn’t hold a candle to the versions I’ve tried on this trip so far.
I call it a night around 21:45. It’s been a long, and heavily emotional day, and I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep…Læs mere
Day 8 - Floridays
9. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C
16:30
I have a decent sleep, and wake up feeling fairly refreshed. I don’t have much of a plan today. Will just see where the day takes me. I set off in the general direction of Florida - South by South-East, and arrive into Nashville about a half hour later. It’s a very different Nashville. I have breakfast in an all but empty diner, and another waitress tells me how much she loves my accent. When I walk back to my car, it’s surrounded by police. Well - that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Two police officers and a Sheriff are stood by it, one of whom looks a little like he’s writing me a ticket. I wish them a good morning, and go to get in my car. One of them says, “Hey buddy - you ain’t from round here, huh?” I confirm that I’m not, get in the car, and high-tail it outta town.
I continue in the general direction of Florida. I’m conscious that roads down which I’m travelling are of the long and straight variety. It’s a little soporific. I chuck on the lane assist setting, and fire up the cruise control, and take the opportunity to look around me. The scenery is changing. Gone are the lush pastures of Kentucky and Tennessee. Southern Georgia (and then Northern Florida, when I get there) are drier and more arid.
I arrive into Gainesville, a mid-sized Floridian city around 11:30, and pause to stretch my legs. The sun’s really starting to heat up - around 32C by midday. After a modest mooch, I get back on the road. I’ve got at least another 3 hours down to Auburndale. As I’m pulling into Inverness (!) I realise I’m pretty peckish, so check GoogleMaps for decent lunch spots nearby - finding a lakeside pub. It’s hot, but pleasantly so, and so I sit in the garden. I can’t help but think back to our recent time in Thailand, and the discomfort we’d have experienced if trying to do the same. Jennifer tells me today’s specials, which include a shrimp and sausage gumbo, which sounds perfect. She asks if I want a cup or a bowl. Bowl please. What emerges is what you and I would call a cauldron. It’s vast. The Brit in me won’t let me lave any though, so I plough my way through it. Slowly. It leaves me feeling like a nap, but onwards I must go…
The afternoon consists of more long, straight roads, which aren’t particularly memorable. I arrive into Auburndale just after 16:00, and check into my AirBnB for the next couple of nights. The views over the pool to the lake are really something. The combination of a big lunch and boring roads have left their mark though, and I feel like I’ve earnt an urgent nap.
22:30
My nap is super-deluxe. Nearly two hours, but I wake up feeling refreshed. I’m meeting our good friend Andy later. He’s been in the US for the past 6-7 years, so we see much less of him than we’d like. Hanging out this evening and tomorrow is real treat.
We head to what Andy describes as ‘A typical Polk County bar,’ and I don’t think he’s being kind. We sit outside on the deck, catching up over a couple of beers, and some Gator bites (think fried chicken, but…) which are delicious. As the sun sets, we’re getting eaten alive by mossies though, so move inside. We make plans to meet around midday tomorrow, to go somewhere called ‘St Pete’ - about which I have no idea, but Andy seems excited, so I am too.Læs mere
Day 7 - Georgia, on my mind...
8. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
06:00
Wow. Guess I needed the sleep. I wake up a few times during the night, but essentially sleep through till 05:30, and a total of 10.5 hours of sleep. I feel massively refreshed as a result. SOLID.
There’s another supposedly stellar BBQ place near the place I’m staying in Georgia. Let’s hope I can stay awake for this one.
I’m only 30 miles from Atlanta here in Gadsden, but I’m headed towards the Talladega Forest this morning, before heading South East into Georgia, via Columbus. It’s all back roads, and small towns. Looking forward to it.
20:00
I’ve had a great, if slightly confusing day on the road today. From Gadsden, I head to a town called Oxford, about 30 miles South. It’s exactly the picture postcard expectation of small town southern USA. I grab some breakfast, then set-off into the countryside, aiming for the Talladega Scenic Highway, in Cheaha State Park. The views across the southern end of the Appalachian Mountain chain are really quite something. It’s a lovely drive through the forest, and I do get a little lost, when I miss a tiny turn-off.
I set off on a fast cruise towards Columbus, a mid-sized town that’s just over the border into Georgia - and on Eastern time. I stop in at a very cool little bar/bistro called The Black Cow. They claim to have the best burger in the South, and I can’t disagree. It’s banging. I have a lovely chat with Felicia who’s working behind the bar. She asks me what I think of America and Americans. I sense a trap. I give a slightly circumspect response about there being great places and not so great places, great people and not so great people, and also mention that I think the election in November is pivotal for the country. “Fuck Trump” is what I get back in response - which I wasn’t entirely expecting.
After lunch, I aim for something I’ve read about - the Drive Thru Museum. It’s back in Alabama though, so on Central Time. I don’t know how folks living right on the timezone border cope with the constant changes. I’d be late for work every day - if I actually worked. I’m entirely unclear whether where I’m aiming for is a museum about the drive thru, or a museum through which one drives. It turns out to be the latter. It’s absolutely crackers. There are 5-6 shipping containers, painted red, and filled with the weirdest collection of displays I could have imagined. I’m not sure it’s really a museum, as much a collection of utterly bizarre, but quite cool tat. It’s a wonderful slice of strange.
I’ve a 2.5 hour / 140 mile cruise through the Alabama and Georgia countryside to reach Tifton, my overnight stop. I’ve had a request to write some words for Micky’s eulogy. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I spend a good chunk of this drive reminiscing about how we met, the time we spent together, and how much I miss him. My playlist for the drive is a nod towards him as well, featuring many of the artists he introduced me to over the years. When I stop for gas, I get a bit of a look from the cashier. It’s only when I get back in the car that I realise my eyes are a deep red, and my cheeks are tear stained.
Having missed out on my BBQ last night, I make sure I get out in Tifton to a little BBQ spot called Pit-stop. I have a combo plate of some sensational ribs, and some very good (but not the best I’ve ever had) brisket, along with an unsweetened ice tea. A fair few restaurants in the South don’t have a liquor licence - though I’m unsure whether this is by design or default. I’m a convert to good iced-tea, though I hope the caffeine doesn’t bite me later. From tomorrow night, I have actual evening plans for the next few days, so it would be great if I was actually able to stay awake past 21:00. I’m *hoping* a little touch of caffeine will help me stay awake till a more reasonable bedtime, without robbing me of the ability to sleep. It’s 20:00, and I’m not narcoleptic yet. Fingers crossed, touch wood etc etc…Læs mere
Day 6 - Sweet home, Alabama
8. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C
16:30
There’s a hell of a thunderstorm overnight. It wakes me at 02:30. It’s cool to watch and listen to for a while, but I’m more than a little pissed off when I can’t get back to sleep. I spend a couple of hours trying, but nah - not happening. This is slightly disheartening. I get up at 05:30, piss around for a while, then get showered and packed up. I’m a little concerned I’ll feel properly knackered on the road later, so the earlier I can get to Gadsden, the better.
I swing by the world-famous Bluebird Café, a real institution of the Nashville music scene. I promise myself I’ll come back here with Vicks and make it to a gig. I then head pretty much due East. In the space of 45 minutes, I pass through Lebanon, Carthage, and Sparta. Later in the day, I spot Antioch. Some serious Middle Eastern / mythological shit going on around here. I stop in Cookesville for an early breakfast, at yet another slightly strange backwater diner. My breakfast is a little more traditional than yesterday’s, MUCH lighter, and very tasty. On the way out of Cookesville, I drive past a pink elephant - as you do.
I’m off the highway today, and heading to the far South East corner of Tennessee, and the city of Chattanooga. The drive is spectacular - such wonderful scenery. Anyone that tells you the UK has the lushest, greenest countryside in the world, is high. There are plush pastures here, rolling forests, farmland interspersed with beautiful waterways - it’s such a treat to womble through.
I get more than a little confused as I arrive into Chattanooga, as I appear to have lost an hour somewhere. It’s only when I stop that I discover that Tennessee actually spans two timezones. I discover that there are 13 states that span two timezones, including Florida, where I’m ultimately headed. I shall be on my guard. As a result of this timewarp, it’s time for lunch. I stop into Puckett’s, a bit of a Chattanooga landmark, and have my second shrimp and grits of my trip. It’s amazing. I really need to figure out how to recreate this dish at home - I suspect using polenta. After lunch, I have a little wander around the town centre, which has that folksy, small-town feel to it.
Back on the road, I’m heading through more countryside into Alabama. I’m slightly surprised when I quickly go past a sign welcoming me to Georgia, but go with it. It’s about 100 miles down to Gadsden, and takes around 2 hours. It’s yet more of a delicious backdrop to drive past. I marvel at some of the tin-can construction of the houses alongside the road. From the little I see of it, Georgia’s pretty as a picture.
At one point, I drive over some roadkill, which on closer inspection transpires to be a skunk. A strong smell fills the car. It’s not pleasant.
Pulling into Gadsden, it’s little more than a strip mall either side of the highway. There is, however, a BBQ place across the road from my diner, that’s supposed to be brilliant. I’m at a Red Roof Inn, a budget motel chain that’s found across the country. I’ve done pretty well with my accommodation options thus far, but my luck may have run out here. The room is a touch grubby, and has a slightly strange smell to it - a little musty. I mention this to the person at the front desk, who says all the rooms smell like that. (“Cain’t hep ya Sir, aw the rooms smell like thayat.”) I leave the door open to air the room out a little, and have a quick bifta, in the hope that it might rob me of my olfactory senses. Hold tight for feedback…
22:00
FFS. Put my head down for a hour’s nap at 18:30, and wake up at 21:30, having slept through my alarm. The BBQ place is shut, and I’m not sure I can be arsed to head out for anything. I read for a little while, but I can still feel my head is tired, so head back to bed in the hope that I’ll sleep until a reasonable hour.Læs mere
Day 5 - The Volunteer State
6. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
15:45
Tough going on the road today. But first things, first. Can you guess what time I woke up? Can you? Correct - 05:00, on the button. Today’s my longest journey of the trip - topping out at just over 350 miles. It’s not raining though, which is a blessing. I’m on the road by 07:15, heading for a diner in the middle of nowhere which is broadly on my way to my first main stop of the day. As I join the main road headed South West, the heavens open - just utterly torrential rain. I can barely see 15m in front of the car, no matter how fast my wind-screen wipers are going, or how carefully I look for the lights of other cars. I briefly consider stopping until the worst of it passes, and then suddenly it does. Bright sunshine, with just a bit of spray from the road. I sigh. If this is anything to go by, it’s fixing to be a long day.
The diner is all kinds of awesome. It’s only a couple of miles drive away from the highway down which I’m driving, but feels like it’s in another century. I understand one word in about seven that the waitress utters. The diner is the size of a barn, but I’m the only customer. They’ve only been open for 10 minutes, so I hope they have a rush of customers a little later. I order a breakfast bowl, which transpires to be a biscuit (savoury scone) topped with scrambled egg, country sausage (think the patty from a Maccy D’s breakfast sausage muffin, but broken up into pieces), gravy (not gravy at all), and cheese. It’s actually pretty good, but a bit of a melange. When ordering, it took the waitress and I quite a while to figure out she was asking if I wanted potatoes, because I wasn’t quite understanding ‘taders.’ Still, it’s cheap, nourishing and tasty enough.
The next 2 hours of my drive are wonderful. I’m deep into Kentucky now, and set off on a meandering drive through farming country. I go almost 40 minutes without seeing another vehicle on the road. The farms are a mixture of dairy properties, and horse farms - this being just about the horsiest part of the US. There are a few light showers, but the rain largely keeps away.
After a shade over 2 hours, and just after 11, I arrive at the Buffalo Trace distillery. I’ve had their Bourbon before, but they have a range of other spirits to try. There’s a really good vodka, which tastes unlike any other I’ve tried before (good way, not bad way). There’s a 12 year old Bourbon which is sensational - prominent flavours of caramel, vanilla. There’s a rye whisky which is a pokey, fiery mouthful, but with smooth and smoke in equal parts.
I move on to my next pit-stop, which just happens to be another whisky distillery. This one’s on a much smaller scale with just a couple of copper stills. They offer me 5 whiskies to taste. I point out that I’m driving so need small measures. No problem, I’m told - they’ll pour light for me. I don’t know if they instantly forget this, or whether the ‘usual’ tasting pour is just monstrous, but I barely drink a quarter of what they pour me. It’s a crying shame, as the whiskies are fabulous. I have a lovely conversation with one of the folks that works at the distillery. We compare experiences of drinking whisky in the Highlands, she tells me that Kentucky is close to Scotland in terms of scenery (true) and climate (bullshit, but I don’t say so…) which is why a great many Scots and Irish people settled in Kentucky when they emigrated from Europe. I’d love to buy a bottle for the rest of my journey, but:
1) there’s no way I’d ever get through it all in the next 10 days, and
2) it’s pretty pricey stuff at $150 a bottle.
I’ve done way less than half my driving for today, so decide to get on the highway for a while to cut into the remaining distance. The heavens immediately open - it’s a barrage of water. Now, I’m not suggesting that I normally don’t concentrate when I’m driving, but there’s a sort of super-concentration level required in these sorts of conditions. It’s just knackering to be on edge the whole time. This time, it feels like the rain is setting in for an extended visit. After an hour, I need to take a break. Happily, this coincides with my passing by Kentucky Stonehenge. After being cruelly denied Foamhenge over the weekend, it’s gratifying to see this really rather shoddy tribute to the Salisbury version in all its soggy glory.
The rain lets up. I’ve got 140 miles to go to Nashville. Backroads will take me upwards of 3 hours, but the Interstate promises more like 2. I decide fast and boring today is better than slow and steady. The weather is squally - several torrential downpours, followed by periods of bright sunshine. I miss the State line between Kentucky and Tennessee, presumably during one of the many rain storms. Tennessee is the so-called ‘Volunteer State’ - and I’m a little disappointed to find this is because the state was renowned for its population volunteering for the USA’s 1812 war against the UK, rather than some tradition of selfless philanthropy…
As I arrive into Nashville, the rain buggers off completely, and I’m left with a beautifully warm, sunny afternoon. I stop in at the Grand Ole Opry House, perhaps the most famous of all of Nashville’s live music venues. I looked at whether there was a show on while I’m in town, but decided against it. I’m reliably informed that the downtown bars are where the best (and cheapest) music is most nights. I pull into my hotel at a little past 15:00. It’s really nice to get out of the car, and know that I’m not going to see it for 16 hours…
21:00
I head out from my hotel for a wander. The helpful person behind the reception desk tells me that there are bars galore, just a few minutes walk from us - most of which will have some kind of live music going on this evening. I set off, not with any particular destination in mind, and end up in a thoroughly cool little bar called The Row. They have about 15 different draft options, one of which is a locally brewed cider, that is awesome. Dry but fruity, light but punchy, bizarrely applely (not a real word). There’s a brief moment of confusion, when I realise that I’ve travelled far enough West to move into Central Time, gaining an hour. I stupidly haven’t left my phone on automatic time updates, so where I think it’s 18:00, it’s actually 17:00. I'll be ok tomorrow as Alabama is also on Central Time, but Wednesday could be fun, as I'll be playing jump rope with the time difference throughout the day.
The music is good. The first artist is a young (early 20s?) lady from Texas. She does decent covers of all sorts of genres, as well as a smattering of her own songs. Everything’s going REALLY well until her last song. It’s called, “Will you be my friend,” which sounds innocuous enough. She tells a story about when she first moved to Nashville, and she felt very lonely, that Jesus was her friend, and that if we all try really hard, he can perhaps be our friend too. Look - I know it’s some people’s thing, but it’s just so not mine that it jars a little.
5 ciders deep, I decide that some food is probably in order. I ask the barman what the most typically Nashville dish on the menu would be, and he points me towards a crumbed catfish plate, with okra. It’s better than I think it’s going to be. The okra is…. interesting? Lots of people object to the texture of it, citing it as slimy. No such problem here - it just tastes a little bland. The fish though, is awesome. Super crispy, very moist and flaky, and served with a piquant tartare sauce. YUM.
At least some of the rain has followed me down to Nashville. There’s a powerful rain storm while the music plays. The bar is open on two sides, and I find it really rather enchanting listening to ultra talented musicians while the rain hammers down.
The clock hits 20:00, and I realise that:
1) I’ve been up since before dawn, and
2) I’ve had no afternoon nap today
I’m pretty jaded. I brave the walk back to my hotel, and ready myself for what I hope will be a splendid sleep.Læs mere
Day 4 - Country roads, take me home...
5. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
15:30
I’m awake (again) at 05:00, with a slightly fuzzy head. I read for an hour, catch up on some other travel plans, and check in with the home contingent. I’ve got a looooong day’s driving ahead of me, but there’s no real point in me getting on the road before 08:00. I’m heading across the entire breadth of West Virginia, the Mountain State. The rain has lingered overnight, and I’m anticipating a day with a lot more low lying cloud and murk.
Karin has recommended a new café to me, in Romney, about an hour’s drive from Winchester. They open at 09:00, so I set off just after 08:00. I’m back on Route 50, which was my constant companion yesterday. The scenery is stunning. I drive through more than a few properly squally rain showers. Happily, the roads are all but empty, so it’s a relaxing drive.
Breakfast at Wild Roots is fab. I have a breakfast burrito that weighs almost as much as I do. It’s delicious. The coffee is strong, and helps resurrect my still fuzzy bonce.
Back on the road, I cruise along at between 70 and 80, and marvel at some of the place names on offer. Nutter Fort, Big Otter and St Albans are among my favourites. The weather’s starting to break a little, and there are some decent sunny spells along the journey. It’s a good 2 hours to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. On arrival, it’s a spectacular building, and still has the iron bars across the windows. It was originally designed to house 250 ‘inmates’ when it was built in the late 19th century, but peaked in the 1950s at a population of over 2,000. It was transformed into a museum back in 2004, and many of the rooms/cells are still in their original condition. It’s pretty horrifying. The tour guide tells me about the lobotomy experiments that were regularly conducted on patients that might have reported with something as straightforward as epilepsy. *Shudder*
It’s a 2 hour straight shot down the road to Huntington, my overnight stop. I picked Huntington because:
a) it’s approximately halfway between Berryville and Nashville, and
b) there’s a really cool sounding hot dog place that I wanna try.
The roads are getting much busier, but traffic’s still moving freely. I find myself pulling into Huntington in what feels like no time at all. My motel is basic, but clean and comfortable. Oooh, afternoon nap sounds fun.
21:30
I open the door to leave my room, and am met by a wall of rain. It’s absolutely pooning it down. My car’s only parked a few metres from cover, but I’m still beyond soggy when I get into it. It’s a 10 mile drive into the middle of absolutely nowhere to get to Hill Billy Hot Dogs, and the rain eases and then stops en-route. HBHD is a very cool, intentionally esoteric kinda place. The counter clerk apparently loves my accent. I Grant it up a bit (Hugh, not Mitchell), and she coos.
They offer an eating challenge hot dog called a Homewrecker. It’s close to 2 feet long (60cm for the civilised folks out there), and if eaten in less than 10 minutes, is free. Apparently the vast majority fail. I’m a little more circumspect with my order - a Hillbilly Dog, and some mac and cheese bites. The dog is excellent - properly smoked beef wiener (snigger), a quite poky chilli, mustard and raw onion. This is all washed down by a local IPA called Devil’s Anse - which I mistakenly hear as Devil’s Arse.
On my way back to my motel, the skies are brooding again. It’s warm and humid. I stop in at Walmart for some supplies. It’s comfortably the biggest supermarket I’ve ever seen - bigger than the cavernous hypermarchés I remember from trips to France as a kid.
Back in my room, I settle in for a Sunday night movie, Leon - which I haven’t seen for many years. It’s still a fabulous film, and I manage to keep my eyes open throughout. I make it to 21:30, and reckon that’s enough for today…Læs mere
Day 3 - The dog days are over
4. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C
14:00
I wake up:
1) earlier than I’d have liked, and
2) cold. Not a bit chilly. Actually cold.
Looking outside, I quickly understand the temperature. There has been much rain overnight, and the pavements (sidewalks) are slick with water. I went to bed with clear skies, and the temperature hovering around 21C. It’s now overcast, rainy, and 13C. Brrrrr.
The waking up bit is hardly unexpected. I was asleep before 10:00, and am wide awake at 05:00. Solid sleep, but am gonna be bored for a while before the world wakes up.
My plan today is not to have a plan. I need to get over to Winchester by 14:00-15:00 to get checked in, before meeting Clay and Kris for drinks/food etc etc. It’s an hour drive, so I’ve got lots of time to play with.
Walking out into the parking lot, it’s pooning it down, really quite unpleasantly. My initial thought had been to head to a couple of Civil War battlefields nearby, but outside can go fuck itself. There are some cool sounding wine, beer and cider stops further over towards Winchester, but none are open until 11:00 or 12:00. As a result, I decide to drive 40 minutes North, over the border with Maryland, to a cannabis dispensary. Most of the states I’m driving through are still cannabis deniers, so this will be my last chance to grab some smoke for the next couple of weeks.
The weed dispensary is a very interesting experience. It started out as a medical marijuana dispenser, but with the changes in recreational use laws in Maryland in 2019, now sells to adult recreational users as well. I’m not 100% convinced my UK passport will be accepted as proof of ID until it is. There’s a tablet on the wall to make my choices, before queuing to pick my order up at the dispensary. It’s kind of like going to an Argos. After Vicks and my foray with pre-rolleds, I want to try weed vapes. I’d rather not chuck tobacco into my lungs if I can avoid it. There’s a broad range of options, so I plump for a Sativa strain for the day, that will allegedly leave me energised, creative and bouncy, as well as an Indica strain that promises me relaxed, sleepy and blissed out. Well, I’ll be the judge of that.
Back on the road, I head in the approximate direction of Winchester, via a very pretty town called Middleburg. On the way into town, I stop at Cana Estates winery for a quick tasting. They give me 3 wines, 2 of which are brilliant. The third is well…. The first two are brilliant!
As I leave the town (village), there’s a cider barn. Of course I stop. They brew their own ciders on-site, and I grab a tasting flight of 4 ciders. One is great, one is good, one is ok, and one is actively unpleasant. I figure this is about fair.
From Middleburg, I head out along Route 50. It’s a lovely scenic drive. More of those sweeping curves and undulating roads. At one point, I start driving up a slight incline which ultimately continues for a few miles. Suddenly, I'm in the very low lying cloud, the view of which is really pretty special. I half expect to see a gorilla emerging from the mist. I stop briefly to try and photograph this eerily quiet perspective.
Back on the road, I drive past a sign for a brewery called Twisted Oak. Yes, of course I do. I have a flight of 4 of their beers. I luck out this time, as all are great. Amazingly, the Stout is brewed with coffee tequila, though I’m not sure if it’s the hallowed Café Patron Vicks and I encountered in Thailand. I ask the guy behind the counter, but he looks at me with suspicion. It gives a smoky and slightly salty flavour to the beer - delicious. There are a couple of IPAs, one of which is hazy in the New England style, and which I could drink by the bucketload. Finally, there’s an Amber ale, sharing a lot of DNA with British bitter. It’s called Arlo’s Amber, after the Jack Russell, Arlo, who is the hound of the property. He seems to sense that I am not a dog person, by coming to sit with me. He nuzzles, he lies down. At one point, he rolls over and shows me his belly (and balls). I give him some strokes, but I think he suspects my heart is not in it.
It’s only another 15 mins up the road to Winchester. Happily, my room is available to check-in when I arrive…
22:15
Had a great evening catching up with Clay, and meeting Kris for the first time. Clay and I worked together at SHL for the best part of 10 years, until he was made redundant when the new private equity owners decided to offshore the vast majority of digital and product roles to India. It’s worked out really well for him, as he secured a huge pay rise, and now works in a place not widely populated by idiots. I’ve not met Kris before, but it’s lovely finally to put a face to the name. She’s had awful problems with her spine for the past 10 or so years, and has just recently had (yet) another surgery, this time at the world famous Johns Hopkins hospital in Baltimore. It seems to have helped, but she’s still pretty early on in her recovery. Their place is in Berryville, a small town 10 or so miles from my hotel in Winchester. Their detached, 3 bedroom house on a plot of around an acre set them back about £250k. Outside of the bigger towns and cities in the US, there is amazing value to be had in property. I also get to meet Harvey, their bulldog, about whom I have also heard much. He’s a lovely, chunky and solid fella.
We head up to a brewery called Bear Chase, up at the top of the mountain. I’m told the views are typically breathtaking, but today the mountaintop is shrouded in low-lying cloud. Visibility is about 10 metres, tops. It’s very cool, albeit in a slightly different way than planned. We have a few beers, and a pretty decent band strikes up. We’re all getting peckish, so C+K take me to a local restaurant called Suecats, which is run by a friend, . Clay and Kris demand that we try the fried green tomatoes, as they’re new to me, and I then have an amazing bowl of shrimp and grits (similar to polenta). The dish is hugely tasty. When chef comes to say hi, I ask how he’s elevated the humble grit to such high heights. His response? “A ton of butter, a ton of cream, and a ton of cheese.” Righto.
My early start is beginning to catch up with me. I order an Uber, which takes a long while before a driver accepts. We’re properly out in the sticks, and having accepted the ride request, it’s fully 25 minutes until I’m picked up. Being somewhat refreshed, I attempt to engage my driver in conversation. This does not go well. After 4 single syllable responses to my 4 questions, I admit defeat. I’m back at my hotel by 22:00, and face down fully asleep only moments later.Læs mere
Day 2 - Old Dominion
3. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C
16:00
I sleep fairly well. I wake up at 01:40 feeling wide awake, despite only having been asleep for a couple of hours. I wake up at 03:50, and am convinced it’s time to spring out of bed. There’s enough residual tiredness though, that each time I manage to get back to sleep. I wake for the final time at 06:00. I have a brief try, but no - it’s not happening. I’ve done ok though.
My travelling body clock is used to Asia, and it feels a little strange waking up to find the day is half done in the UK. There’s a decent sounding diner nearby that I’ll head to for breakfast, but it’s not open till 08:00. I pass the time looking for stuff to do today. I’ve visited Virginia countless times for work, but my experience has been restricted to the North East corner, up near Washington DC. Today, I’m going to head out to see a bit more of what Old Dominion has to offer…
The decent sounding diner turns out to be even better than advertised. Twelve bucks buys me sunny-side eggs, hash browns and corned beef hash. It’s a hefty plateful, and should set me up for the day. I’m planning to be on a two meal per day strategy while I’m here, otherwise I suspect I’ll come home the size of a housing estate.
After breakfast, I head South West, along Highway 66. This is NOT Route 66. Apparently there’s an Interstate 66 as well - just to add to my confusion. I don’t love highway driving, so when the opportunity to head off on a smaller, back road presents itself, I grab it. The following hour is a delight of sweeping curves, swooping hills, and increasingly bizarre place names. I love this side of road-tripping. I drive past several vineyards, which surprises me a little. I obviously know there’s more to US wine than California, but wasn’t aware that there’s a burgeoning wine industry in Virginia. I’ll take a look on my way back. For now though, I’m headed to Shenandoah National Park, and specifically to the Skyline Drive, a 105 mile road through the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The drive is beautiful. The views over the Shenandoah Valley are mesmerising. I stop at a few overlooks, and have a wander through nature. The park is close to deserted, and it’s a wonderful moment of solitude. I’m also loving my little car - my constant companion for the next 2 weeks. Just this morning it’s done busy town driving, highway cruising, and country back roads, and dealt with all of them really well, and been fun to throw around. They do an EV version, which I’ll take a look at as our next car, when we replace ours later this year.
Leaving the North end of Skyline Drive, it’s turning midday, and I’ve been awake for hours. Google Maps directs me to a lovely little bar-cum-BBQ pit a couple of miles away. I’m not remotely hungry, but the smells coming from the smoker are objectively amazing. While I’m nursing my beer, an order of a brisket sandwich comes out of the kitchen. I briefly consider ordering one to go, but decide against it. From here, I set the sat-nav for Foamhenge - which is exactly what it sounds like. I ask Google Maps to avoid highways and toll roads, and end up spending a joyous hour discovering more of the backwaters of Virginia. I stop at a couple of vineyards along the way - with mixed success. The wines at Three Foxes are adequate, the wines at Greenhill really pretty good. I’m very well behaved though, and do much more spitting than swallowing.
I arrive at Cox’s Farm only to find Foamhenge DENIED. Apparently, it’s only open in Summer, which doesn’t officially start until Memorial Day, at the end of May. Curses.
It’s a quick 20 minute scoot back to Herndon. I grab some road supplies from Safeway, and head back to my motel. I’m seriously considering an afternoon nap…
19:45
Ya see, the danger of afternoon naps when travelling West is that your body, not unreasonably, thinks it’s bed time. As a result, waking up after an hour is way more challenging than it should be. My alarm goes off at 18:30, and I could very easily roll over and go straight back to sleep. Being the brave little soldier that I am, I manage to drag my ass out of bed. Takes a good 10 minutes before I can open my eyes properly though.
I head out for a walk, in the hope that some exercise will blow away the cobwebs. My motel’s in a pretty bland part of town. Strip malls, supermarkets, chain hotels. I do find a sports bar, so pull up a stool. They’ve got a good selection of local beers, one of which I try. It’s decent. There are something like six TV screens, running from one end of the bar to the other, and each showing a different game or event. There’s Major League baseball, college baseball, college lacrosse, NHL ice hockey, a re-run of some Formula 1 that was on earlier, and a talk show about NFL football. I love these sports bars. They’re an ingrained part of local US culture. Guaranteed if you walk into one alone, you’ll be part of a conversation ten minutes later. So much so, that…. Oooh, Tuaca!
21:30
I spend a very enjoyable hour talking to Albie, he who ordered the Tuaca. Si, the bar manager, explains that he had a bottle of it delivered accidentally a few years back. The distributor said to keep it, rather than go to the hassle of sending it back, and Albie, who’s one of Si's most regular customers, developed quite the penchant for it. As a result, he now goes through a couple of bottles a month at the bar. I explain the resonance of Tuaca and Brighton, and Si ends up pouring me a free shot of it, which is more than kind.
Dinner is a very good Reuben - such a good combination of flavours. 3 beers and a couple of Tuacas in, and I’m fading. I reckon a Zopiclone tonight to try and bank a good 8 hours, and a reasonable wake up time...Læs mere
Day 1 - Westward, HO!
2. maj 2024, Forenede Stater ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C
12:00
I’ve done a few swift turnarounds over the years - but I think only for work trips. This is comfortably the shortest home pit-stop I can remember that’s purely for fun purposes. Just enough time to refresh my underwear selection, spend some time with the boys, and plan out my next trip. Solo sojourn this time, so I’m back to sticking to a tight(er) budget - something that’s particularly tough to do in the US at the moment. It’s a road-trip, and I managed to snag a really good car hire deal. There’s some risk attached though. It’s one of these ‘mystery car’ deals - no idea what you’re driving till you turn up to collect it. At best, it’ll be a big and comfy SUV or sedan. At worst, well - let’s try and stay positive.
I’ve got accommodation booked for my first few nights in Virginia / West Virginia, and then have a rough route planned, which’ll take me down through Kentucky and Tennessee and into Alabama, then across Georgia and down into Florida, where I’m excited to catch up with some very dear friends. I’m conscious I’m heading through the deep South, and what is largely staunch Republican territory. With any luck, I might get to attend a Trump rally while I’m there.
In line with my budget conscious approach, I write this from a National Express coach. A return ticket has set me back £30, where the train would have been £80, and a cab in each direction several hundred. There’s a distinct hint of murk to the weather. Checking the weather report for the Washington DC area, it looks like I’ll be landing into a balmy evening of temperatures in the mid 20s, and heat index that’s actually the same. After our recent heat-based experiences in Thailand, this is better than good news.
14:30
There are several stops between Brighton and Heathrow. At each, the driver leaps down to help passengers load/unload their luggage. Every time he gets back on the coach, there’s an irrepressible honk of cat piss. Not ‘a smell that’s a bit like cat piss.’ Actual cat piss.
Other than that, the journey to Heathrow is a piece of, well - piss. Deffo one to use in future for those all too rare occasions when time’s not of the essence. From bus to bar takes a little over 30 minutes, which for Terminal 3 is lightning speed. And, result! I’ve got a free upgrade. I recently got my Virgin Silver status back, and it seems this is my reward. It’s to Premium Economy, which given I’m going to try and sleep for as much of the flight as possible, is a treat. I’ve got to be sensible on the booze front - I’m picking up my car at Dulles Airport on arrival, so best not to be three sheets when I do… That’s all 10 hours from now though, so I celebrate the start of a new adventure with one of my favourite ciders (Orchard Pig’s Reveller) in one of my favourite airport bars (T3’s The Curator).
23:30
Body clock is all over the shop. Flight is a little delayed taking off, but we’re Westward bound by 18:00. Shouldn’t change our arrival time. My upgrade has actually put me in a bulkhead seat, so I’ve got a ton of leg room. I have a glass of bubbles on boarding, and a G+T soon after take-off. I um and ah about a wine with my meal, and come down firmly on the side of ah. I start to watch Oppenheimer, having not quite got around to it yet. My eyes are heavy though, and I can feel a nap coming on. I sleep for around 3 hours, and wake up feeling a lot more refreshed. We’re only 90 minutes out from DC as well = RESULT.
There’s an elderly lady sat next to me. Well, not quite next to me. There are 3 parallel seats in the bulkhead. We each have the aisle seats, and there’s an empty seat between us. She’s feeling the cold, bless her - and is wrapped up in about 3 blankets. A member of the cabin crew does the rounds offering duty free shopping. I tend to think this is a bit of a thing of the past, as online shopping has largely equalised the discounts available on-board. I sometimes grab a bottle of Bourbon at the airport if I’m heading somewhere where room drinks might be tricky to come by. Anyways, I’ve got my noise cancelling cans on, so can’t hear my colleague’s discussion with the flight attendant. It goes on for some time. Eventually, a bottle of perfume turns up, along with a bottle of tequila, and it’s the tequila that surprises me a little. I’d perhaps expected gin, or maybe a liqueur of some description. At an opportune moment, I ask Margaret (for that is her name) whether it’s a gift for someone she’s visiting. Oh no, she replies - it’s for me. I love me a bit of the old Tequila. And I now can’t get an image of her doing tequila shots with lime and salt out of my head.
I use the last hour of the flight to finish watching Oppenheimer, which is a genuinely staggering bit of cinema. It's a period of history I've always found fascinating, but I've only ever had a passing knowledge of the work that was done on the Manhattan Project. Cillian Murphy's and RDJ's performances are both stellar, but the entire cast delivers.
We land at 20:20, pretty much bang on time. I’m a little disheartened on arrival into the immigration hall to see a lengthy queue for ‘visitors’ and only 2 TSA agents checking documents. The queue crawls at a glacial pace for an hour. I don’t feel too tired, even though my body thinks it’s 02:00. I’m just bored. Once the sizeable US Nationals queue has cleared, the TSA team open up those desks for foreigners, and things start to move along a little quicker. By 22:00, I’m looking for my hire car. Thrifty have told me to pick the car up at the Thrifty parking lot, but have given no indication as to where this is. I ask a few people, who send me in various wrong directions. I then nearly get run down by a minibus. It’s only when I turn around to yell at the driver, that I notice the van says ‘Hertz / Dollar / Thrifty.’ Kismet.
At the hire car parking lot, I meet a lovely Brazilian lady who works for Hertz, and we chat for a few minutes about my trip there later this year. She warns me not to go walking in the favela after dark. I mean - thanks Brazilian lady, but I was not really planning to. She also recommends a few towns/cities to visit on the hugely long stretch of Atlantic coastline, and this is great intelligence to have. My car is a Kia Soul - a kinda small SUV type square boxy thing. It’s comfortable enough though.
Leaving Dulles is unnecessarily complex. To be fair, leaving Heathrow when you’re unfamiliar with the local roads, have been travelling for 17 hours and it’s dark, would probably also be challenging. I finally find a road that takes me where I need to go. My home for the next couple of nights is a motel. Simple, basic, clean. The bed looks very inviting… I’m hoping that having made it nearly midnight (or 05:00 in the UK) means that I might crack jet lag more quickly than I historically have done when travelling West. I have horrendous memories of 01:00/02:00 wake ups in Minneapolis years ago, but I wasn’t half the sleeper then, that I am now.
WISH ME LUCK.Læs mere
Day 23 + 24 : Homeward Bound...
28. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 32 °C
Day 23 and 24 - Homeward Bound
Day 23 - 18:00
We wake up feeling very smug. During the night, I’ve had to snuggle under the duvet a couple of times, so frosty is it. Our day feels like it is going to go well. We grab some breakfast at our hotel, and head back to the room. I briefly think about packing, but read instead. We’ve the sum total of fuck all to do until our cab picks us up at 16:30, and this feels totally deluxe.
Around midday, I start to consider being a bit more organised, but Vicki suggests popping out for a beer, and who am I to deny my wife what she really wants? We womble over the road to the beach, which is much prettier than we’d perhaps thought it would be. We park at a beach bar, and watch the world go by for a while. It’s still mega-hot. The heat index is up to 47C again, and even sitting in the shade, it’s a little challenging. I grab a couple of beers from the supermarket on our way back to the room, and spend a frenetic 20 minutes getting myself packed, followed by a far less frenetic 60 odd minutes drinking Singha and watching an episode of Shogun.
When our cab arrives, it is palatial. It looks like an airline first class seat transported to a Thai style minivan. There are brandy glasses in a little rack next to my seat - but alas, no brandy into them to pour.
Once again, the check-in and security experience at the airport is a breeze. Our cab drops us at 16:50, and by 17:10 we’re ordering a beer and a sandwich in the departure lounge. We congratulate ourselves - particularly as the lounge gets busier and busier. There are 4-5 big international flights leaving within an hour of each other, and the volume of people has grown exponentially. Vicki braves a wine, and it doesn’t immediately upset her tummy, which is great news. She reckons it’s just making her feel a little tired - which is entirely understandable, given her average nightly sleep on this 3 week trip has been over 10 hours…
Day 24 - 01:50
Our first flight is a breeze. We meet a lovely guy called Junior from Lisbon, who is sharing the block of 3 bulkhead seats with us. The cabin crew taking care of us are great fun. I manage a couple of hours of half decent sleep. Vicks doesn’t, but her 3 week average will barely take a dent… We have a couple of red wines, but feel like we’ve behaved ourselves pretty well.
Our transfer in Dubai is a little over 3 hours. When we clear the connection security checks, the concourse feels all but deserted. DXB is a slightly strange airport, in that it’s a 24/7 operation, but has real peaks and troughs of activity through the day. I don’t think I’ve actually ever been here at 23:00. I know for sure that there’s a real rush of people around 01:00. We make for the B concourse, where we find our next departure gate. We pitch up at the Hard Rock Café, and enjoy a couple of beers / wines while we wait. The time passes quickly, as we’re regaled by one of the bar managers doing passable AC/DC impressions. Oooh, we need to go and board the next one…
Day 24 - 09:30
Home! The boys are delighted to see us - sort of. They’re definitely pleased to see people who are offering them food.
The flight back from Dubai is also a breeze. We have another decent companion on the block of 3 seats, who we encourage into having a glass of red wine at what is actually 05:00, but which our bodies think is weird o’clock.
About an hour out from Gatwick, I pop to the galley to drop off some rubbish, and grab us a quick drink. A couple of guys are waiting for the toilet, looking equal parts frustrated and desperate. One of them asks the cabin crew team to check the toilet, as someone’s been in there for quite some time. A quick knock later, and the toilet is flushed, and a guy emerges looking really pretty shifty. He doesn’t respond to questions about whether he’s ok. Very strange.
I mention this, because we spend 15 minutes at Gatwick after landing waiting for some customs/police officers to board They’re looking for a passenger, we know not why. Turns out, it’s Mr Shifty that I encountered earlier. He goes quietly, and we disembark.
Our fave airport driver, Andy, is waiting for us in arrivals, and the drive back to Brighton is blissfully quick. The chilly, rainy weather won’t be to everyone’s liking - but after 3 weeks of temps in the mid to high 30s, and heat index readings in the mid to high 40s, we’re really rather enjoying it…
Day 24 - 15:00
Reflections…
1) Thailand is great. Beautiful place, with some wonderful people. The food is off-the-hook good - and a real eye opener for foodies like Vicki and I. Many many dishes that I’ll recreate for us at home.
2) Jeez, it’s hot. We both agreed we need to understand more about heat index temperatures, and El Nino heatwaves before committing to another trip to Thailand (or other parts of SE Asia). We definitely ‘coped’ but had to curtail a few things we wanted to do as I think we’d have both ended up pretty sick if we hadn’t.
3) Island hopping is great fun - and the islands have such distinct characters, even when they’re only 20km apart. Koh Pha Ngan and Koh Lanta are probably our faves at the moment, but there are a ton more to explore next time we visit.
4) Koh Samui can do one.
That’s it for now.
It’ll barely surprise you to learn that my next trip (solo this time…) starts in a couple of days. See ya then xLæs mere
Days 21 and 22 : Shitsville
26. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 30 °C
Day 21 - 11:00
Well this isn’t good. I wake up regularly through the night with stomach cramps, and what feels like the beginning of a fever - blowing hot and cold, and my joints all ache. Bugger.
When Vicki wakes at 09:00, we have a brief discussion about my ailments. My symptoms are very similar to hers a couple of days ago when we attempted to move on to Phi Phi. Having rejigged all of our plans, we really do kinda need to move on today to Phuket, so that we’re in the right vicinity for our flight home in a couple of days. I’m not looking forward to the day. I’ve had no urgent toilet requirements just yet, but it feels like they’re in the post.
Day 21 - 20:30
Today has been, by some distance, our most challenging day of the trip. I think on these kinds of journeys, you’re going to have ups and downs - this has been a hefty down.
We’re back at Sala Dan pier in the heat of the day. My tummy’s behaving itself so far. Badly cramping, but it hasn’t exploded. There’s a café at the pier that has a toilet. My stomach and bum twinge in unison. Rushing to the toilet, I discover it’s the hole in the floor variant that remains fairly popular in this part of the world. I imagine a world where things go horribly wrong, and my underwear/shorts are covered by my woeful inexperience and inaccuracy. I squat and have a try, but my heart isn’t in it.
We’re on a speedboat that goes to Phi Phi, and then to Phuket. I *think* there’s a bathroom on it, but am not 100% sure. As the boat gets moving, I worry a little about the bouncing and bumping along the waves, and its potential impact on my malady. Weirdly, it feels quite comforting. I chuck on some headphones, and try and achieve some kind of relaxed state of mindfulness. This helps a little…
Arriving into Phi Phi, we notice a couple of things:
1) It’s is SO busy. The harbour area is a traffic jam of various types of boats. The streets that we can see on the island look crazy.
2) The people getting on the boat are in a general state of disrepair. One couple in particular look like they may have actually come directly from the rave.
All in all, we find ourselves wondering whether we’ve played a blinder by missing out on our planned stay here.
Our arrival at Rassada Pier in Phuket is straightforward, and we’re quickly planted in the back of a beautifully cooled car for the c. 50 minute drive over to Kamala Beach, on the West coast of Phuket island. As we drive, I read a news story about Bangkok, where a state of emergency has been called, due to the incredible heat. We thought it bad when we were there, but the heat index over the weekend is expected to be 52C, which is in the ‘extreme risk of death’ category. 30 Thai people have died of heat stroke in the past couple of weeks. We’ve been, perhaps a little unfairly, thinking of ourselves as babies for struggling with the heat so much.
We arrive at The Palms, our hotel in Kamala Beach. Our room looks lovely, but we quickly discover the AC unit is on the fritz. It keeps turning itself off, and when it IS working, puts out a very weak stream of cold air. The room actually feels like it’s getting warmer with us in it. I call the front desk, and ask for another room. They promise an AC engineer will take a look at it first. We wait 1/2 hour. No engineer. I’m seriously overheating, and need to cool down ASAP.
Frustrated, we book another place just up the road that looks like it will give us what we need. Sadly, we have been a victim of estateagentitis (not a real thing). The description of the room we’ve booked makes it sound like a palace. The pictures make it look glorious. What we encounter, after a very hot walk, is miles from what we’ve been promised. FFS - the toilet is outside. Now, I don’t mind an outside toilet by the beach. I’ve quite enjoyed ‘nature’ toilets at a few places over the years. We, however, are in a built up area, and the heat index is currently at 47C. The A/C unit is struggling to cool such a big space. I’m rapidly fading. We’re both a bit distraught. Vicki negotiates the use of a room with an indoor bathroom as, well, our bathroom. It’s on a different floor to the room we’d booked. The AC unit in there does at least seem to be working a little better.
I need to lie down. Vicks heads out for a bit of an explore, and in search of some food, but returns not much later, decrying the neighbourhood as ‘shit’.
We’re on our 3rd room in the past 24 hours, but decide the way through this clusterfuck is to book a 4th. We’ll stay here tonight, but head up towards the airport tomorrow. There are a ton of bigger, more modern hotels within 10-15 minutes of Phuket Airport, and we suspect they’ll meet our needs more effectively. It’s such a shame, because the very vast majority of small, locally managed guesthouses we’ve stayed at while we’ve been in Thailand have been fab. We’re both relieved to have found a new place to stay, and it helps us relax a little. Vicks goes to sleep at 20:30 in protest at the rubbishness of the day.
Day 22 - 10:00
My fever gets worse through the evening. I’m reading, anticipating the inevitable, and kinda wishing it would just hurry up and get here. Vicki sleeps next to me. Around 23:00, the brown rains arrive, and honestly? It’s a relief. The next few hours are spent variously hydrating, walking tentatively from my bed to the toilet, and, well - raining. Around 02:00, I’m exhausted. I feel completely empty, and have eaten nothing today. I decide to risk some sleep, in the hope that my body will react quickly enough and wake me up if urgent circumstances arise. Happily, my body plays ball. There’s a minor incident around 05:00, when I nearly ignore the wake up call. Whilst I sleep erratically, it’s still the most sleep time I’ve had for a few days, and is very welcome.
Day 22 - 17:00
Feels like we’ve made the right choice. After a cool 45 minute drive to the North, we arrive at Naiyana Beach, and a hotel called Bella Nara. It’s exactly the kind of modern beach hotel that could be lifted and dropped on any beach around the world, but for right here and for right now, it’s the right place for us. Our room’s not quite ready when we arrive, so we grab a cautious lunch. I manage a beer, and Vicki manages a glass of Chardonnay. We’re both avoiding heat and spice today, so have a club sandwich and a burger respectively. It’s not the best club sandwich I’ve ever had, but after existing on water and a small handful of peanuts for the past 36 hours, it’s also the best club sandwich I’ve ever had.
Back at our room, I can feel fatigue catching up with me again. I put my head down for a ‘quick’ 2 hour nap. I wake up at one point, and am cold. Actually cold. I crawl under the duvet with a wide smile on my face.
Day 22 - 22:00
We decide to brave the outside world for a bite to eat - and end up at a pizza joint approx 60m from our hotel. I think we’ve had such a rough few days that we’re just not gonna risk anything too adventurous at this stage. We both have a cautious glass of wine, and a more than decent pizza. This part of Phuket looks like it’d be great fun to explore - but we’ll save that for another time.Læs mere
Day 20 - More of what we needed
25. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C
13:30
I sleep terribly. My dreams are (unsurprisingly) littered with loss and chaos. I don’t think I slept till nearly 03:00, and then only fitfully. Vicks, happily, has had a much better sleep, and is feeling in finer fettle this morning, to the extent that she declares she *might* be hungry. I manage to doze off again around 10:00 for another hour, and we then head out for some food. It feels a little cooler today - perhaps psychosomatic, but I’ll take it, nonetheless. There’s also a vigorous and cooling breeze coming out of the South West. As we sit on the beachfront, contemplating the world, it’s a pleasant temperature. Vicki vehemently sticks to the very plainest of jasmine rice, and I have some stir-fried noodles. As we re-enter our room, I smash my shin against the hardwood bed frame. Usually, 10 seconds of swearing and shouting is enough to diminish the pain. Not this time. Suspect this one is a few days of ouch, followed by a lifelong scar. Tremendous.
18:30
Vicki has slept around 16 of the past 24 hours. I have been bored and lonely for around 16 of the past 24 hours. I’m conscious that correlation is not the same as causation, but I can’t help but feel there’s a link here. We pop out for a very late lunch/very early dinner. Vicki bravely eats a pizza - stage 3 of her ‘getting back to eating/drinking normally’ campaign. I have a stir-fried duck dish that is banging. Vicks seems a lot better for taking it easy and sleeping so much, and this hopefully stands us in good stead to head on to Phuket in the morning.
23:50
We need to grab a few supplies for our journey tomorrow, so head down the beach in search of a mini-mart, and frankly - just to get out of our room for a little while. We stumble upon a little bar called Majestic, whose playlist is basically out of early 90’s Seattle. We hear some Alice in Chains, Stone Temple Pilots, LIVE, all washed down with a couple of Mojitos (for me)… It makes a refreshing change from the music at *most* of the beach-bars we’ve visited, which tends to feature bouncy pop covers. Yesterday, I was treated to a shitty pop rework of California Dreaming by the Beach Boys. Best avoided.
Vicki’s been awake for a full 3 hours, so needs to get back to sleep pretty pronto. I don’t feel like sleep, despite desperately needing it.Læs mere
Day 19 - Phi Phi DENIED.
23. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 30 °C
17:30
Phi Phi DENIED. Vicks has not had a good night’s sleep, and feels pretty sub-standard this morning. We’re not sure quite what’s causing her to feel like this - I feel fine (but with out any semblance of smugness), so suspect it’s not a bug. She’s been keeping really well hydrated throughout our trip, as she always does, but we can’t escape the feeling that it might somehow be heat related. She soldiers on, bless her. We get packed up in decent time, and wait in the reception area at Lanta Sands for our midday pick up.
Stunningly, our pick-up arrives on time. It’s a songthaew that already looks full to bursting. We’re a little sceptical as to whether we’ll fit into the flatbed of the truck, but happily the driver opens a secret door to a tiny compartment for two that we’d barely noticed was there. I can see Vicki is really struggling in the heat, so even 5 mins of A/C in the truck is a welcome gift. At the pier, the heat is oppressive. BBC reckons the heat index today is at 47C, which is just nuts.
We’ve 40 minutes until boarding for our speedboat to Phi Phi, so grab a cold drink for Vicks and a beer for me at a little café. Vicki is deteriorating rapidly. She can barely sit up without feeling like she’s going to pass out, and several times has to lie down on the bench to rest. I’ve already suggested we stay on Koh Lanta an extra couple of days, and head straight from here to Phuket, but she’s adamant we should continue. As our boat departure approaches, I think she’s getting worse. We again discuss changing our plans, and I’m pleased when she acquiesces. Definite hints of heat exhaustion - dizziness, nausea etc.
We spend another 30 minutes trying to cool her down, which is tricky in a sheltered, inland area. The girls working behind the counter in the café ask if she’s ok, and offer a bag of ice to help cool her, and this seems to do the trick - enough, at least, to enable us to complete a quick 5 minute tuk-tuk ride to the resort at which I’ve hastily booked us a couple of nights of accommodation. It really feels like this is for the best. It means missing out on Phi Phi, and the boat trip we’d planned tomorrow to the neighbouring islands, but health comes first.
We’re into our room, and Vicks is settled by 14:00. I leave her to rest/sleep, and head out to the resort’s beach bar for some food. OMG - they have Savanna Dry by the bottle. After what’s been a worrying and stressful morning, it’s an absolutely marvellous tonic. I’m conscious I’ve not eaten today, and suddenly am ravenous. I have an amazing dish of minced pork with fried aubergine, which is pretty high up on the chilli richter scale, but which I thoroughly enjoy. I tell myself the second and third bottles of Savanna are purely about chilli heat management.
Back at the room, Vicki’s dozing. I decide to join her. It’s been a tough old day…
23:30
Around 19:00, I head out in search of sustenance. Vicks has requested some water and a can of Sprite for dinner, which I’ll source and take back for her. I always go into this kind of hunter/gatherer mentality when she’s not feeling well.
I’m not feeling particularly energised or adventurous, so head back to our resort’s beach restaurant where I ate earlier. A couple of ice cold Savannas really hit the spot, and I have a chicken and cashew stir-fry which is tremendous.
At 20:30 and back at the bungalow, I receive the worst of news. My darling friend Mick has succumbed in his fight against cancer. Even though none of that circle of friends would have been local to me had I been in Brighton today, it somehow feels more of a gut-punch to hear this news from 6,000 miles away. I loved Micky in so many ways, but I think most of all for being the best example of a human that he could be - whether as a friend, a brother, a son, a dad or as a husband. I’m heart-broken, for myself - but so much moreso for his incredible wife, Em, and for his beautiful kids, Bertie and Elsie. The world is an unfair place, and is a much worse world tonight for no longer having him in it. Rest easy, lovely boy. x x xLæs mere
Day 18 : We are low powered.
22. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 31 °C
18:00
We’re both feeling pretty low powered today. We had a moderately boozy day yesterday, but nothing out of the ordinary, and don’t deserve to feel quite like we do. We mooch in bed for an hour or so, before deciding breakfast might fix us. It doesn’t., so we settle in for a day of rest and recuperation.
When we head out to grab some lunch, the heat is stifling. We’re back in the 40s, and it feels every degree of it. We’re supposed to be heading to a beach party later, but I suspect we may play that one by ear, depending on how we’re feeling. We’ve moving on to Koh Phi Phi tomorrow, and a quiet night might be to our benefit.
21:30
We head back to Second Home for dinner. The whole grilled sea bass we had a couple of days ago was smashing. This time, I have a fillet of barracuda, prepared with a hot, sweet and sour type sauce. V tasty. Vicki has some simple BBQ prawns and some fried rice.
Sated, we walk all of 100m down the beach to Ozone, where tonight’s beach party is happening. Well, ‘happening’ is really not the word. As we approach, there are two customers in the bar. As we arrive, they get up to leave. We turn around and vamoose. We’ve no issues being the only people in a bar, but it’s a little sad to see what I’m sure is a busy night at the peak of the season reduced to just a handful of punters as the season comes to a close. We pitch up, instead, at our hotel’s beach bar.
After sitting in the uber comfy chairs for about 10 minutes, we both start to notice drops of rain falling. We’ve seen a couple of rain and thunderstorms from our room in recent days. This feels much lighter. Vicks takes cover, but I sit in the warm rain for a few minutes. Being rained on is one of my very favourite things. Suddenly, it’s a deluge. It is THROWING it down. I decide dryness might be for the best, and join the other patrons cowering under the scant cover. The wind is blowing the rain in sideways, so we creep and creep further to the back of the bar. A Korean couple sitting at the bar open their umbrellas, while they’re sat at the bar. It’s comical.
After another glass of wine, we decide it’s time to make a run for it. As we walk into the storm, we very quickly realise we have made a significant error. After 15 metres, we are beyond drenched. By the time we reach the reception area 75m away our clothes are entirely stuck to us, and we are dripping wet. We then have a 10m walk to the building our room is in. It’s like walking into a full on rain shower. I’ve never experienced rain this hard that I can remember. It’s crazy. As we open the door to our room, the icy blast of A/C is actually pretty uncomfortable. We quickly strip off the worst of our clothing, and dry down.Læs mere
Day 17 : Sunday = fun day
21. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C
21:50
We both have brilliant sleeps, in part aided by my going to sleep in the spare room around 03:00, and by there being a thunderstorm around 04:30, which despite us being in separate rooms we join together to watch.
We head down the beach for some breakfast. It’s warming up, but there’s a beautiful breeze coming off the ocean. When I say it’s breakfast, what I mean is a meal we eat at 11:30, quickly followed by a beer - just so we’re all on the same page.
Somewhere in the early afternoon, I have a stunning nap. When I wake up, Vicks is nowhere to be seen. I join her at the beach bar, and we have a couple of sharpeners. We’re both in dire need of a shower, so head back to our room to freshen up. We’d thought about going over to Lanta Old Town this evening, which is a 40 minute ride to the East side of the island. We receive intelligence to suggest there’s a very cool sunset bar 20 minutes walk to the South of us, so decide that’s a better bet.
The walk down the beach is beautiful and knackering. Most of the sand is pretty soft, and we both feel like we’re climbing through quicksand on more than one occasion. The bar we’re heading to (Pangea) is great. A pretty prototypical beach bar, but with awesome house music as the sun sets to the West of us. We order some food, mainly conscious that we’ve not eaten much today, and it’s delicious. We grab another couple of drinks as the sunset dies, and the night sky begins to grow.
Walking the mile or so back up the beach is no easier, but much more fun. We spot a million crabs running up and down the sand. Near to our hotel, we stop for a vodka+manao. We accidentally end up at our hotel’s beach bar for a glass of wine, before deciding that enough is enough - we need to cool down. Our room is an ice-box. This is a good thing.Læs mere
Day 16 - Southbound, HO!
20. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C
07:45
I’m awake at 06:00. For some reason, my brain just switched on this morning, and wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. This happens quite frequently. It’s rarely something big or scary with which my mind decides to concern itself. Ephemera, usually - and such as it is, it’s enough to keep me awake.
At 07:30, Vicki declares she’s awake. She’s not slept well, bless her. This is such a rare occurrence that it rather takes me aback. Again, no obvious rhyme or reason - just one of those things. Thankfully, our journey is a pretty straightforward one. Koh Lanta is around 40km to the South East of us, and will take around 2 hours by Ferry from Ao Nang. Our pick up is not until 09:30, so we’ve more than enough time to pack, and do some urgent sitting around waiting…
12:30
Massively different ferry experience. The ferry company has offered to pick us up for our onward boat to Koh Lanta. Confirming with them yesterday, they said it would be there between 09:30 and 09:45. As 09:50 rolls around with no sign of our lift, we book a Grab. I suspect the boat guys would have turned up at some point, but it’s not really worth the stress. The pier is a much calmer experience than the Lomprayah ferries we’ve been taking in the Gulf of Thailand. We’re very quickly boarded into a bright, airy cabin that’s deliciously cool. As our 10:30 departure time looms, the cabin is still only about 1/3 full. We depart on time, and cruise serenely along the coast towards Railay Beach, 10-15 minutes away.
On arrival at Railay, we mate with another ferry, and some passengers are transferred. This is a definite first for me. A few more passengers are dropped-off by longtail boat. Even with these extra passengers, the boat is only 1/2 full for the journey down to Sala Dan Pier.
Vicks snoozes. After a rotten night’s sleep, I’m barely surprised. When she wakes up, she has fairly impressive indents from where she’s been resting her face on her rucksack. I visit the little snack shop dude for supplies. I’m stunned/delighted when he asks if I want a beer. Er, yes please. An icy Chang is the piece de resistance. I adore this ferry.
17:00
We arrive into Sala Dan Pier at 13:15, a little later than planned, but not disastrously so. Our guesthouse have sent a driver to pick us up, but we can’t find him. I call them. The chap at the other end says the driver is there - he’ll call the driver to let him know where we are. 5 minutes pass, no driver. I call the guesthouse again. Apparently, the driver is now ‘on his way’ and should be with us in a few minutes. 5 minutes, no driver. I call back for a 3rd time, and a woman answers. She starts to ask who I am, and what I want, and whether we have in fact asked for a transfer from the boat pier. Eventually, we agree that the driver will be there in around 10 minutes. It’s 10 mins from the guesthouse to the pier, so the driver is clearly setting off now. 10 minutes pass, no driver. I’m just about to phone back again and lose my shit, when a driver from our resort turns up. He is NOT expecting us. He’s here to pick some folks up that are arriving on a 14:00 ferry, 10 minutes from now - and assuming the boat is on time… We are beginning to lose our cool - figuratively and literally. The driver sense this, and says we’ll head straight over.
Our room is great. The benefit of booking so many travels this year via one website (booking.com, I don’t receive payments etc etc) is that I get discounts and upgrades at some of the places I’m staying - and Lanta Sands is one. We’re in a family room, with two bedrooms. Crucially, our room has a plunge pool attached which is actually cool and refreshing. I spend a deliriously happy 10 minutes paddling up and down, and cooling off.
We head out, down the beach for some lunch, stopping at a very jaunty place called The Funky Fish. An ice cold beer is quickly followed by another ice cold beer. They bring us some great food. Some weird clay pot contraption contains prawns and glass noodles. They are fantastic. Another dish has some fried yellow (egg) noodles with prawns - also wonderful.
We’ve dumped and run at our room, and need to get ourselves just a little sorted/unpacked for our stay. Back at the hotel, I briefly consider a nap, then decide against it. We want to get out to watch the sunset, and it’s already 17:30. We pad down the beach to a bar appropriately called Sunset Bar. We graze the cocktail menu with mixed success. The views of sunset are (once again) spectacular. Around 19:00, we head up towards the main road where many of the local bars, restaurants and shops are located. It feels a little like a ghost town. Many are simply not open at all, whilst those that are open tend to have a maximum of a handful of customers. We’re at the very tail end of the season, and this is the first island where it’s felt like it. Dinner denied, we head back down to the beach, and walk this time to the North, and find a great little place called Second Home. They have some fresh wild sea-bass, which they grill whole for us with garlic and pepper. Sensational.
It’s getting late (21:00!?) so we wander back up the beach, where the incoming tide is rapidly encroaching, and head back to our room. We chill out with some wine, and a couple of TV episodes, before falling into the deep sleep of the deserving…Læs mere
Day 15 : A little more than not a lot...
19. april 2024, Thailand ⋅ ⛅ 29 °C
11:45
I have a slightly rough night’s sleep. Some bad news from back home pervades my dreams, and I wake in a bit of a tiz on more than one occasion. I generously allow Vicki to sleep till 09:24, before deciding enough is really enough. She’s banked another 10 hour plus sleep, and frankly, it’s getting a little ridiculous now.
While she’s slept, I’ve come to the conclusion that we’re not staying exactly where I thought we were. The main Ao Nang town is a couple of kilometres to the East of us, alongside Ao Nang beach. We, rather, are staying next to Nopharat Thara beach, which is just not the same thing at all. We decide to head over to Ao Nang proper for some breakfast, and find a very cool little café knocking out decent brunch type stuff. It’s a lot busier over here - tons of knock off shops selling fake branded goods. We decide Nopharat Thara, with its idiosyncratic night market, small Thai run bars and restaurants is more our speed.
We’re deciding what to do with our single full day in Ao Nang. The conclusion is (perhaps unsurprisingly) not very much. We’ve both really enjoyed taking some time out to properly rest on this trip, and it’s been a while since we’ve been able to do so together. We’d thought about getting a longboat over to Railay beach, a couple of headlands further East from us, and only accessible from the water. A combination of feckless layaboutery, and concerns over Vicki’s skin combine to dissuade us from this strategy. We’ve already decided we’re going to come back to Thailand, and have been building a healthy and growing list of stuff we want to do when we do…
19:30
We’ve become ‘not doing very much’ ninjas. I have an amazing nap around 12:30, and wake at 14:00 full of very few beans. We mooch for an hour or so, then decide there’s a day out there at which we should probably go and have another look. We mosey as far as Pink Lady, and get sucked in by our new friends. There follows a very intense few games of shut the box (which I appear to have misnomered 'shit the bed'), with Vicki the winner of a tight competition, 3-2. We move onto Connect 4, and this time, I’m the victor. All this accompanied by some ultra chilly beers. It’s past 16:00, and we’re feeling some hunger pangs, so we head back to Chomlay for a late lunch. More delicious food follows - a black pepper chicken stir-fry for me, and some simple soy fried noodles for Vicki.
We reason that it’s been close to 3 hours since someone had a nap. It’s Vicki’s turn, so back at our guesthouse, she’s quickly out for a 60 count, while I read contentedly next to her…
Not 100% sure what our evening plans will entail, except that we’re both in need of a shower, and some wine.
23:30
There’s something not quite right about Team Irvine today. I think we’re just both feeling a bit under-powered. Perhaps just a touch of fatigue after a couple of weeks on the road, maybe the hint of a little bug keeping us both a little deflated. Whatever it is, it pervades our evening plans. We pop out to an Italian restaurant for a quick bite to eat, neither of us quite fancying spice and heat tonight. Don’t think either of us are particularly hungry, but we’ve a boat trip tomorrow, and will avoid eating till we arrive at our next destination. We’re back in our room by 22:30, and Vicki turns in not long after that. I’m not quite sleep ready yet, so read for a while. I’m conscious that Vicki is not dropping off to sleep in her usual, almost instantaneous fashion. Crikey.Læs mere
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