Seeing the World

The big trips lie ahead.  I’m expecting New England and Australia to provide great weather.  Chile enjoys winter during our visit, so I’m less hopeful there.  But the Atacama and Easter Island should be kind.

It is fair to say the I have been incredibly lucky with weather since I started my travels.  I’m currently in Anglesey and yesterday was a scorcher.  Today doesn’t look like it’s going to be any less fabulous.  Alas, the drive home via the hospital provides today’s excitement.

When I started my travels in Malta it was February but warm and sunny.  Bratislava delivered rain, but temperatures were mild and there should have been snow on the ground.  There wasn’t.

Iceland early March chose to dump its snow the week before arrival.  While temperatures were only just above freezing the sun shone and shone.  Cloud only appeared at night to block out the northern lights.

Ljublana in Slovenia was sunny throughout, with two very warm days as well.  It was extraordinary for Central Europe in March and probably helped skew my exceptionally positive thoughts about the place.

Similar patters have followed in Montenegro, Northern Ireland and the Netherlands.  The sun has shone.  Always welcome when you visit the coast.  Welcome too for floating down many of Amsterdam’s canals.

Flying into Washington DC in 2012 Hurricane Sandy clobbered the place.  Fingers crossed “normal” summer weather for Massachusetts will greet us next.

Another One Ticked Off the Bucket List

As I lay in bed this morning I had no intention of doing anything.  Hot tub.  Food.  Pleasant field of sheep.  That was my day planned.

But my luck with the weather continues.  26C today (84F for those older than me).  And while I’d intended to defer Snowdon to July I decided that I wouldn’t get a better chance to avoid the mists.

My major personal objective for 2016 was to do Snowdon on foot.  I’d struggled to the top of the Old Man of Coniston in the Lake District in 2015 and as the weight dropped off and my daily walks lengthened I was in decent shape.  Cancer rather screwed my back though.  So I didn’t get there last year and today’s attempt involved the train.

Midweek outside school holidays I wandered into the LLanberis ticket office shortly after 11am to be told the only space they had was on the 3.30pm train.  I was somewhat taken aback, but handed over my £29 and killed four hours walking along the lake, seeking out sensibly priced food and buying fridge magnets for the kids.  I might not be with them forever but whenever they grab a beer from the fridge they’ll remember how I blew their inheritance!

The views from the train are stunning.  I suppose they would be.  The 64 passengers in my carriage had an average age of 83 but all were intent on using their smartphones to grab a snapshot.  An hour after departing we arrived at the summit.  Or rather at the cafe.  There’s a fair few steps to climb before the whole world opens out beneath you.

I struggled a little with this stretch.  When I finally got to the peak I gawped.  I’ve been higher, in the USA.  I’ve had breakfast overlooking the Grand Canyon.  I’ve had a snowball fight 10,000 feet up the Beartooth Pass.  I’ve looked in awe over the Green River and Colorado River in Utah’s amazing Canyonlands.

This easily accessed British beauty is a match for those places.  You are high up.  There is nothing but sky above you and beauty beneath you.  And lots of other people jostling for position.  I spent two minutes enjoying it before rather clumsily descending and grabbing a cold cider in the cafe.

The train only gives you half an hour there.  If you can walk it you get longer.  But I don’t think they let you get the train back down.

I couldn’t be happier with this.  I will do it again soon.  It’s a special place.  Even if the train is a little uncomfortable.

One of My Favourite Roads is Blocked

When you think of the classic American road trip the words Route 66 probably leap to mind.  The reality is that the first stretch out of Chicago isn’t that interesting (so I’ve been told) and by the time you reach the South West USA it’s been largely replaced by dual carriageways that by-pass the old towns which have, in many cases, become desserted and lost.

California State Route 1, also known as Highway 1 or the Pacific Coast Highway is different.  It remains true to itself, clinging to the American west coast, turning with every curve of land jutting into the sea and a surprising remoteness from the rest of the state.

The stretch between Carmel and Ventura Beach (between San Francisco and LA) enjoyed a day of our company in 2014.  The white Vauxhall Passat hire car carefully tracking the contours of the road with an average speed of only 30mph.  Chris spotted a whale.  Numerous vista points demanded stops for photographs and moments of natural beauty that seemed, somehow, to outdo that found on other coastlines.

The wooden Bixby Bridge crossing a canyon as it enters the sea without an estuary.  Elephant Rock looking extraordinarily accurately named.  A beach full of seals.  The young frolicking in the sea.  The mature sun bathing and fighting.

And there was so much more.  It was a wonderful day and my only regret was making it a one day drive instead of splitting it into two days.  Alas, a necessity of a tight schedule.  The following day took in the tackiness of Hollywood Blvd.  the difference couldn’t have been more stark.

There was a vague notion that I’d return in September and do that road again.  But the ending of California’s drought has brought rain and landslides.  And Highway 1 was already closed by rockfall when yesterday brought the mother of all landslides.  A little bit of me is gutted.  Not for the sparse communities and exclusive resorts cut off (although I am sad for them).  It’s just one of those places I wanted to see again and now, very possibly, won’t.

It seems likely that they will clear and reopen the road.  If they do and the notion of a USA driving holiday takes your fancy, this road beats Route 66 for me.

Return to Anglesey

While I tend to use two pieces of plastic overseas I actually take no fewer than eight credit cards abroad.  Paranoia against card failure means my six back up cards come with me, despite having a c3% charge on them for foreign transactions.  Not the end of the world and better than exchanging currency, but fortunately so far I’ve not needed to use them.

My favoured card for withdrawing cash overseas remains the Halifax Clarity Credit Card.  Pay it off quickly to avoid interest and you can get your hands on local cash at an exchange rate that doesn’t have a spread making a financial institution a large amount of money.  The Halifax card used to have the added advantage of paying me a fiver if I spent £300 a month on it.  Alas, thanks to the EU that little treat has been abolished.

But I don’t do much in cash anyway.  Perhaps buying a bus fare, afridge magnet for the kids or a street ice cream.  Hotels, food and trips are pretty much the exclusive reserve of a card payment.

Which is where my unreliable Travelex Supercard comes into play.  It piggy backs my other Halifax credit card which dates back to 1999 and still pays me 1% cashback when I spend on it.  This netted me a good £20 when I booked my Australia flights back in January.  In other words, I spend on it, it immediately charges my Halifax credit card and I earn my cashback.

I call it unreliable because it has a tendency for transactions to fail.  Not the end up the world as I have the Clarity, and more often than not it works.

But they’ve just announced its demise.  They’re withdrawing the product on 24th July.  This is pretty rubbish as its when I’m in Chile with Chris.  It’s also summer holiday time so just when customers are about to dust it down and start spending on it.

So I lose my little cashback earner.  A way to offset some of the costs of my globe trotting.  And I’m a bit irritated by it.

Up yours Travelex.

For those wanting an overseas credit card with great exchange rates Barclaycard, Halifax, Santander and Creation offer them.  Just make sure you pick the right card from their range!

Got Cancer – Take Paracetomol

I’ve quite enjoyed the last few months.  A temporary cure from the extreme pain I was in last October delivered via surgery and afatinib.  The freedom to travel thanks to an employer who didn’t have to be so generous.  And a freedom to write which, along with booking travel and travelling, have helped me fill my days with positives rather than focusing on the rather obvious elephant in the room.

At the end of last week I felt pain again in an area of my pelvis that had suffered hugely last year, before I knew it was cancer.  What felt like an impact injury on a bit of bone that juts out at the back.  But there had been no impact.

The pain itself was mild.  I wasn’t rushing to my stock of multiple drugs built up with the frequent prescriptions of the Autumn.  But it was different.  And it worried me.  And defeatist thoughts entered my head about not going to The Ashes.

The afatinib has been wonderful for me.  Notwithstanding the acne, rash and diarrhoea it brings.  But it’s always been on the understanding that one day the tumours will fight back.  And by Saturday morning I was convinced that they had.

My hospital has a 24/7 helpline for cancer patients so I called.  The medic on the other end of the phone was keen to ensure I wasn’t undergoing spinal collapse.  And then the stunning response came.

“You can take up to eight paracetomol a day and if the pain gets worse call us again next week”.

In other words, treat your returning cancer like it’s a mild headache.  I did take a couple of Naproxen anti-inflammatory pills and these managed the pain reasonably well.

Then on Monday I contacted my dedicated cancer nurse with a plan for a scan.  She toddled off to the oncologist and came back with “turn up for your appointment next Tuesday and get an X-ray and blood test beforehand”.  No CT scan.  They just want a snapshot of my lungs to assess a pain in my pelvis.  Witchcraft!

After a few minutes of stunned nothingness I eventually got to a point of inner calm. Perhaps the truth lies in the blood tests.  Perhaps they want to wait  few weeks for the tumour to grow before picturing it.  Perhaps it’s all in my mind and I need to chill.  If the hospital can be calm so can I.

Oddly enough, the mild pain has become even milder since then.  Perhaps there’s been bone regrowth that feels different and is pressing on me a little.  Perhaps it is an impact injury after all, but I recall no impact.  Whatever’s going on, I’ve managed to reach a point of what will be will be.

I am going to Australia and dragging 23kg of suitcase around the place with me, regardless of any pain.  Even if the tumours are back.  Even if the medical advice is not to.  The Credit Crunch stopped me going to the Ashes a few years ago.  I’m not letting something as irritating as cancer stop me this time.

Hopefully I’ll still be on afatinib when I’m there.

The Blood Streaming Across My Pillowcase

As an eighteen year old I woke one Monday morning to a nosebleed.  A rare thing in those days.  That particular event transpired to be the exact time my much loved Grandad died.  Perhaps the first person I’d felt really close to who’d moved on.

Nosebleeds are more common for me these days.  A result of seven months of Bells Palsy.  The right nostril has effectively been ripped apart and spends its day healing and tearing.  The left nostril has been delivering modest trickles, barely noticeable, that have appeared without my knowledge.

This morning brought an absolute beauty.  I woke shortly after 7am.  Late for me, but I’d been awake for two hours earlier in the night watching the awful events in Manchester unfold.  I was immediately aware of that dry stickiness across my face mouth and chin.  And onto my neck.  Blood.

I lay on my back for a moment fearing movement would trigger a further cascade out of my nostril, but took a judgement call that this was unlikely.  I turned, carefully, to see a pillowcase covered in the dark red of dried blood.  I got up, taking a look in the mirror, and I saw a middle aged man who looked like he’d had his throat cut in battle.  I might volunteer to play an extra in Game of Thrones – I look the part!

Onto the shower.  Cleaning myself up.  Slightly bewildered.

You cannot begin to imagine the contempt I have for this Bell’s palsy.

When Manchester Matters More

When I was 22 I bought my first house.  An unexceptional end terrace in Stockport.

With a salary of £10,350 a year, plus double time overtime payments for working Saturday mornings, I chose to insure my income.  I rather thought I had a job for life working for the world’s biggest building society so rather than opting for expensive redundancy cover I looked further afield.

Permanent Health Insurance through Sun Life of Canada.  £6.93 a month with a £550 pay out if I found myself unable to perform my usual duties for longer than six months.

On more than one occasion over the years I’ve pondered cancelling the plan.  Persuaded not to by a little clause that says they’ll refund half the premiums if I get to age 62 without claiming.  Well I’ve blown getting that £1,800 in 2034.

My big mistake at the time of taking out the policy was a decision not to index link it.    While my career path didn’t quite hit the heights I had in mind in 1992 I’ve done alright for myself and the salary I finished my working life on was significantly higher than £10k!

But never mind.  I now have a tax free income from the insurer combined with a small state benefit that effectively means I can pay rent, put petrol in my car and buy an Oldham Athletic season ticket without having to dip into my redundancy money.  That can be reserved for things like trips to USA, Chile, Australia etc in nice posh airline seats.  Not sure about £2,000 a night hotel suites though …

In other words, my fears that I’d run out of money before I’m 55 have now pretty much gone.  If I do live longer than most with this disease I won’t be in poverty.  We’ll certainly not my definition of poverty anyway!

Better still, I get a guaranteed annual pay rise of 5% on this money.  I doubt many workers will see a rise as big as that!  Loadsamoney!

Travelling Light In New England