The Bottomleys’ and Gaugers’ Trip to England and Scotland: Friday

Quick one tonight. Looong, rainy trip to Chester. Many traffic jams due to construction. We were able to post the blogs from the past two days, but it’s too late to write much of anything about today. Check back tomorrow!

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After a good night’s sleep, here’s the rest of the story.

The day began with another tasty breakfast at Lethamhill B&B. We passed on the kippers this time, but Bruce did try a couple of the mini-haggis. They tasted like meatloaf. We told our host Jane of our fine time in Paisley, and she was surprised as she had always dismissed it as merely an industrial place. We didn’t encounter anything of the sort there! Must have taken a different road into town.

Then, despite the rather foggy and damp weather, we decided to make a circular drive that would take us up along a long, thin bay of the Firth of Clyde and then back down along the west side of Loch Lomond, the longest loch in Scotland. There is quite a naval presence along the Firth, including British and former US submarine bases. There was also a permanent peace camp across the street from one of the British bases, looking for all the world like a 1960s hippie colony. We had heard of these at other military installations when we lived in England in the early 80s.

While the fog did lift enough for us to enjoy the views, the drive itself was certainly a challenge. Roads were narrow and sometimes flooded. Oncoming traffic, always a problem on narrow roads, was made all the more difficult to deal with as a result of the road conditions. Directions were confusing as well. But we made it. Loch Lomond was certainly beautiful and dramatic in the mist.

Then it was off to the south to Chester, a journey of over 200 miles. We crossed the Erskine Bridge over the Clyde for the third time in two days. It’s one of those popular new designs with narrow concrete towers (two in this case due to its length) and a single array of cables that supports the entire roadway from the middle. The effect was so subtle that we had to look twice to realize that we were actually on a bridge.

That stretch of motorway was pretty much the end of clear sailing for the rest of the day. Beyond that there’s only one motorway heading south or west, and it goes right into the city of Glasgow. There’s no beltway or other form of bypass, so that one road is probably always a pretty busy one. But add to that a major reconstruction project along with damp and foggy weather, and traffic was barely crawling. This mix of traffic (possibly increased over normal due to a rail strike and the fact that it was Friday), construction, and weather stayed with us all the way to Chester.

There’s not much to report about the trip itself other than roads, cars, rain, fog, and road spray. Everybody seemed to be driving safely, and our minivan handled itself just fine. Lunch was a snack at a motorway rest stop, and various noshing in the car.

As is the case with many small British B&Bs, ours in Chester wasn’t staffed 24/7. Frequently the owners live elsewhere or have a life separate from the establishment, so they will go there specially to meet guests and get them settled, and then disappear till it’s time to make breakfast. Knowing this we did call ahead to advise our hosts of our late arrival. They appreciated it, and they told us that the key would be waiting for us in the Chester Bells pub across the street.

GPS got us right to the tiny road where our B&B was located. A little too close actually, as the road was horribly skinny and a dead end. The necessary U-turn was a challenge. Then Bruce stayed with the car while the others retrieved the key from the pub and unloaded the suitcases. They brought back the report that we didn't have enough tattoos to qualify for that pub, so we took it off our list of potential dinner spots. We got directions to a nearby carpark and then began a search for a place that served modest quantities of light food at reasonable prices. Friday night is big in Chester. Lots of people about, many dressed in their clubbing attire. Long lines at the ATM. Smokers gathered on the sidewalk (‘pavement’ in British) as a consequence of strict new laws on indoor smoking.

Despite the white tablecloths and elegant appearance, we settled on the Pastarazzi Italian restaurant, built into a handsome old building. A waitress lured us in with the promise that there were indeed modest but tasty offerings on the menu. Bruce had what was described as a torta of cheese, eggplant, and zucchini. We might quibble over this description, as the cylindrical stack of ingredients wasn’t bound together in any sort of a cake-like structure (as was the eggplant parmagiana that he had in Siena about a year ago), but it was artistically presented and extremely tasty. The other three folks had varying offerings of pasta or risotto. And we enjoyed a nice bottle of wine.

Grosvenor Place B&B was much, much smaller than our two previous lodgings. More typical of a lower budget city establishment. A bit worn and quite cramped. Lots of light and sound coming in from the street and the pub. But easily adequate, an enjoyable breakfast, and a pleasant proprietor. He knew a bit more about the US than some of the others we’ve met, having worked for a while in Birmingham, Alabama, but he was still a bit fuzzy as to the location of Wisconsin and New Hampshire. Though he knew Vermont.

No pictures today. Everybody knows what fog and rain look like. But here are a couple taken the next day that show the B&B and the pub across the side street. Chester is a brick city, and some of it is really marvelous!