DAY 1 MON. MAY 30 - TUES. MAY 31 TORONTO - MANCHESTER

Exhaustion: fatigue: age: resignation. These were the emotions running through our minds and bodies as we began our latest expedition. And the words could be also used to describe our destination: Great Britain.

Our departure day was bizarre, to say the least. We awoke early to face the first truly bright and warm day of the early summer. At the back of our minds was the impending trip, but it was unreal because of regular, routine things: early wake-up, work-out, haircut, lawn mowing, lunch from Tim's, feeding chipmunks, the pool with neighbours Bill and Sandy. Then, a man showed up to take us to the airport, a long plane ride, no sleep, complete misery on a hot, crowded plane and .... Manchester !

We slept the afternoon away, then woke up, walked through the neighbourhood, had pints in our first pub, listened to a drunk local lady complain about how hard her life was and how much she wanted to emigrate " 'cuz there's nuthin' here", bad food at the hotel and a fitfull night's sleep, because of a messed-up body clock. Cheers !!

DAY 2 WED. JUNE 1 MANCHESTER

We missed breakfast at the hotel ! I couldn't sleep for love nor money until about 6 am, then, the next thing I knew, it was 10 ! No matter, no real travelling today, just wander in Manchester, get used to the time change and prepare for tomorrow.

Manchester is a large, sprawling and interesting city. There are still many architectural reminders of its glorious, prosperous past. Victorian-era architecture abounds, and much of it is well maintained and restored. They reflect the time when Manchester was, like Britain, a global power-house. Industry, trade and commerce was everywhere, and the buildings housed offices, banks, warehouses, shipping houses, mills, and consulates. Today, they house tandoori palaces, pubs, and chain stores. And, alongside the Victorian splendour, are examples of the change: steel and concrete monoliths of the 1960's and 70's, which stand as almost soul-less socialistic blocks of unhappiness. Something went wrong, it seems, and the change is abrupt and jarring. It is almost as though Britain tried to deny what it once was, and tried to erase the past and focus on the new, brutal truth of the modern world. Somewhere after that, however, the city found a way to adapt. Many of the newer buildings have tried to make peace and resemble their Victorian grandparents: the effect is more tranquil and pleasing.

Hopefully, sleep will come tonight, for tomorrow, we pick up our car and drive to Liverpool. My first British driving in almost eight years. We think we have everything arranged, but you just never know .......

DAY 3 THURS. JUNE 2 MANCHESTER - LIVERPOOL

They are so close on a map, it almost looks like you could walk from one to the other. But the reality is that we rented a car and had to navigate still largely jet-lagged, a toxic combination.

We called from our hotel to Manchester Airport and were assured by the cabbie that finding the Europecar Rental would be easy: we got lost in the terminal. Then, we were assured by the rental agent that it was "dead easy" to find the way to Liverpool: we got lost. Last night, the girl at the Britannia Adelphi hotel in Liverpool said it would be easy to find the hotel after travelling on the motorway from Manchester: we got VERY lost. And, yet, we made it, although our stress levels were through the roof. Lesson re-learned: nothing involving travel in Britain is easy.

Our car, a Vauxhall Astra, is small and well appointed, but it handles like a tank. It drives "heavy" and I found myself fighting it. Hopefully, I'll get used to it: I always do.

The Britannia Adelphi is an old hotel of past magnificence. It is truly beautiful on the outside, but dated and tired on the inside. Very much like Liverpool.

Admitedly, our first reaction to Liverpool was not positive. The weather was dull grey, the city difficult to navigate, the buildings dowdy, and the hotel past its prime. But then we walked down to the Albert Docks and were impressed by the renewal of the vast Victorian warehouses and docklands. Clearly, Liverpool will never again be what it once was, a thriving, wealthy, cosmopolitan seaport. In a true sense, it was, at one time, a world city. Its glory has faded, but there is renewal. Sadly, the renewal seems to be confined to the waterfront. The rest of the town leaves me nostaglic for Detroit.

The highlight was the Beatles Experience, and audio-visual chronicle of the Beatles' early years and their rise to fame and their ultimate demise. For true Beatles fans, this is a pilgrimmage, worth of reverence. The museum was excellent, and the re-creation of the original Cavern Club was moving: rather like seeing a holy site for devout Christians. We spent 2 wonderful hours there. Then, we regained the town and visited Matthew Street, site of the original Cavern Club, now an ugly modern parking garage, and the new Cavern Club just down the street, a faithful recreation of the original. What a vibrant, creative place Liverpool was fifty years ago. A city on its way down found an outlet for its frustration. Perhaps it can do so again.

The weather turned sunny and warm when we left the Docks, and, somehow, the city looked ... well, not so much beautiful as less ugly. We returned to our hotel to a free English dinner ( leathery roast pork, watery vegetables, nice deserts ) and FREE drinks ( ! ) for an hour. All we had to do was watch the faithful play bingo with all the intensity and concentration of formula 1 race drivers. I felt the presence of my old grandad as the numbers were called out in the old British bingo cadence ( "two and six, twenty-six" ) .... lovely !!

DAY 4 LIVERPOOL - CONWY

Frustration upon frustration upon frustration. Trying to make sense out of British directions and British highway signs is an exercise in byzantine bureaucracy: it makes sense to those who know it, but to the rest of the world, it's nonsense, chop-logic, and just plain stupid.

Suffice to say that we made it out alive. Liverpool is a large city with myriad streets and endless possibilities for getting lost. It almost ate us alive, but some creative navigation by Lou and dumb luck got us into Wales. Then, more madness. We chose a route that ran along the north coast, hoping for Icelandic views of the ocean, only to see endless town after British sea-side town: holiday parks ( trailer parks in North America ), sea-links ( golf courses ), sea-side resorts (downtown Port Dover x 10 to the power of 6 ), oil refineries, car parks, shopping arcades ( shopping malls ), etc. Underwhelming is the word, and what looked like a short jaunt took more than 3 agonizing hours with the weekend traffic.

Then, our luck finally changed. We made it to Conwy. The castle is something out of Robin Hood, and the walled town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is pure British postcard quaintness. We had a truly wonderful day wandering the castle site and through the town to the sea-front. A delicious dinner of Welsh lamb ( for me ) and a small sample of Welsh whisky ( for me ) ensued. I'm not sure what Lou enjoyed, but she seemed content.

Conwy Castle is part of a 13th century strategy of Edward I of England to surround rebellious Welsh subjects who had risen up against him. Ultimately, his strategy worked and Wales was subjugated by England. Interestingly, inside Conwy's walled town, the old Welsh flag ( 4 corners, red and gold squares and lions ) flew. Our B and B host, the restaurant staff and denizens in an afternoon pub were all English or Scottish. We encountered no Welsh today. Most of the tourists are English: so were the restaurant diners. We were told that we could wander freely inside the town's walls, but to be on the alert if we were to venture outside the walls. Noone was smiling when this was said. Edward I seems to have been completely victorious, at least in this town.

One thing that has been unbelievably good for us has been the weather. No rain so far, and, since yesterday, warmth and sunshine. Also, the car performed well despite the unnecessary extra miles from trying to regain our route. And, we're still healthy and speaking to each other, but we're mystified by our apparent ineptitude for getting a route right the first time. Our driving resume is undoubtedly impressive: all of Canada, including the Dempster Highway all the way to Inuvik: half of Australia: all of Scotland: all of Iceland: a good chunk of the USA: much of southern England. Why has this started so poorly? Does age have anything to do with it ? Or should I have sacrificed a goat before the trip to appease the mystical dragon of this land?

DAY 5 SAT. JUNE 4 CONWY - BEAUMARAIS

Another gorgeous morning: we certainly can't complain about the weather. We had a lovely breakfast with our hosts Alan and Elaine and learned a few things. Mainly, that the north coast of Wales is populated, permanently, by the English. We're disappointed at not hearing or seeing Welsh people. Alan explained that Conwy, despite being in Wales, is only 40 miles from England, and it's an English town. He is from Lancashire, yet lives full time in Conwy and has done so for the last 12 years. He's now Welsh, but not really. He doesn't speak Welsh, and has family and friends back in England. He spends his winters in Goa, India. I wanted to ask him where he keeps the Welsh people.

Our drive to Anglesey was fraught by more lost diversions, but not as many as before: we must be getting better! We enjoyed some lovely views of the sun-drenched coast, and arrived in Beaumarais, another of Edward I's castle towns. Beaumarais Castle, though a ruin, is every kid's dream of a perfect castle plan, complete with moat ( and swans ) and perfectly squared plan, with towers, turrets, barbicans, murder holes, etc. It was great to walk around through it in glorious sunshine and look back along the hazy coast. But I became uneasy at this. Again, it was a reminder of how the Welsh were a subjugated people, or perhaps more correctly, how the English became a garrison population in a foreign land.

We took a small boat cruise to Puffin Island, saw millions of sea-birds ( apparently a few were puffins ) and a few friendly seals. Then, back to Beaumarais for a lovely late afternoon tea with scones, jam and cream and barra brith cakes. A few beers with some Geordies in a sun-drenched beer garden followed. All very nice, but something was missing, something as ephemeral as the puffins. Ah, yes, the Welsh .....

Finally, in a local pub at dinner, we overheard two middle aged men speaking a strange language. They were obviously local, and slipped into English to greet other friends. At last ! The elusive Welshman ! I stared at them, expecting them to be dark or swarthy, to have horns or antlers, to wear skins, to act wild and uncivilized. Alas, they were just like me: middle aged men, grey, conversant with each other, and very, very human. But I felt like I'd just encountered a sasquatch. A real, live, honest-to-goodness Welshman ! Now, I'll believe in jack-a-lopes !!

DAY 6 SUN. JUNE 5 BEAUMARAIS - CAERNARFON

Should I start with the good stuff, or the bad stuff? Maybe the bad stuff first, to get it out of the way.

I'm beginning to think we can't navigate our way out of a wet paper bag. We left Beaumarais, after a great breakfast, under cloudy skies. We were pointed in the wrong direction by a kid who tried to help. We then struggled inland, trying to find the "scenic" north coast of Anglesey, but we never made it. We ended up literally going in a circle back where we started. Screw it, we found our way to Holyhead by going on the major highway in a straight line: so much for the scenic route, although we did see some lovely lush green Welsh farms. Our bad luck continued when we reached Caernarfon. We almost overshot the town centre, but managed to get into a central car park. We walked to the visitor centre and were directed to a street with 3 B and B's, none of which were open. A good-hearted neighbour said she knew the mother of one of the landlords, but we had to follow her to a "Pirates of the Caribbean" street party for the local kids. Kind of neat to see. Well, the mother wasn't there, but we were handed off to well intentioned granny who took us back to the B and B's, only to get herself completely muddled in trying to figure out a code sequence on the security scanning system, which, if successful, would've allowed us to break in. Alas, she couldn't remember the code, even though she tried to will Lou into guessing some combination of her grandkids birthdates, phone numbers, whatever. I was starting to lose it, but kept my cool and said little. Lou gamely tried to help the old dear, but, when it became obvious she would be of no help, we thanked her and let her go back to Capt. Jack Sparrow and his minions. Back to the visitor centre we went, convinced the man to call a place, secure us a room for 2 nights: we walked to the B and B, took the room, navigated our way back to the car, managed to drive back to the B and B without getting lost ( victory !! ) and collapsed.

The good stuff? Well, we're still alive, we're still talking to each other, but with more volume and edge, the weather is still gorgeous ( hot and sunny, mostly ). We had a nice walk on Holyhead, but didn't really see puffins, had a good meal in a pub on the waterfront and .... that's about it. The car, a Vauxhall Astre, feels better in my control, and I'm reading an interesting biography about Mordecai Richler. As you can see, I'm trying real hard to be positive, but Wales is not helping. Oh yeah, we heard lots more Welsh spoken today in Caernarfon: apparently, this is a centre of Welsh nationalism. Bully for them ! Oh, and I forgot to mention that the landlady of the White Lion in Beaumarais is smokin' hot. I came to Wales for this?

DAY 7 MON. JUNE 6 CAERNARFON

We had a good start to this day. After a hearty breakfast, we resolved to the Snowdonia drive, as highlighted our Lonely Planet book. We found the correct route and drove without incident to Llangberris, the terminus to Mt. Snowdon, highest peak in Wales. We decided to take the interesting Victorian era cog railway to the summit and walk back down, reasoning the descent would be easier than the ascent. The train ride up was pleasant, the views of the Welsh mountains stunning ( vistas to rival Iceland's ! ) and the weather continued sunny and warm.

Then, the descent, supposedly a two hour walk, began. It started well enough, and I was enjoying the day greatly, taking some good photos. At last, out on the land, being physical, challenging ourselves. Then, fatigue set in, due to the constant jarring of going downhill: toes, knees, lower back started to complain. Lou started to lag as her fatigue spread quickly. I had to wait. Our two hour descent became more than three. We abandonned the rest of the scenic drive. After a rest, we had dinner at the Black Boy Inn, then came back to our B and B for an early night. We are disappointed, sore and unhappy. Now also we are behind schedule. At least the weather is nice.