Just Me and My Dad: The Wall

After much long anticipation and excitement, my father arrived at Heathrow Airport Terminal 4. I trudged along Gloucester Road around 8 in the morning, stumbled into Starbucks, chatted to a really friendly gal behind the counter, got my coffee and croissant and trudged to the station. The Piccadilly line was rather desolate this morning, for that I was thankful. The night before I was up late with too much excitement to sleep. I drew a sign to hold at the airport that said "DA" with a inky British Flag in the background. It was quite dashing but I forgot to hold it with all the confusion of finding the proper terminal and door. While I was waiting I ran and got a coffee at Costa for dad, as he had requested upon his arrival. Americana, black. Disgusting watered down expresso. My only complaint about the actual coffee customs here is that they serve everything with regular old milk. Why not cream? Half and half? Something a little more substantial. 

Seeing my old man walk through the big doors with his black 6 nations rugby shirt, cargo pants, salt and pepper beard and (my) over-sized luggage covered in horses and another normal black bag was a sight that I had dreamed of for weeks! After we greeted each other we made our way to the bus that would take us to the rental card place. It was funny to see dad slightly askew on the public transportation bus, since it was bouncy and head jerking. I stayed rather still, but he was all over the place. I guess being on public transportation almost daily for a few months will give you 'sea legs'. 

The woman at the Hertz counter was delightfully friendly. She was from Glasgow and was interested to hear about my trip to Edinburgh. After she pointed us north on the M1, we headed out of the building to find out car in spot 22. The Volkswagen Polo was adorable! It took a few minutes to figure out how to pop open the hatchback, but we got it. We got loaded after fits of giggles when dad went to the wrong side of the car. Driving was intense. 

This little Polo had a tight gear box, a steering wheel on the right side of the car, and poor visibility. But it did have good gas mileage. We zipped along the M1, getting passed by everything from motorcycles to lorries. But we didn't care. There was no hurry for us this day. We were just happy to be spending time with each other as we laughed at the cows that we drove by. We joked about how mom would have honked the horn at the cows, and wanted to stop to look at the sheep. 

It was not terribly difficult to know if we were going in the proper direction, as the big overhead road signs clearly stated we were going to "THE NORTH". Good grief, Winter is Coming? Where are the wolves anyway? We merged left off the motorway a couple times to get a drink or go potty, but we stopped for lunch outside Nottingham. Good thing I didn't have to walk to Nottingham... (Hiss, you know from Robin Hood?) We drove by Sherwood Forest, and didn't get to stop. But during our search for lunch, we drove through a few small villages, and wandered around until we found a cute pub. 

The pub was all the charming in this small little town that doesn’t get many American visitors. While I was in the loo, dad walked up to the bar, and the classic old man staring into his cup wondering where his life went said the usual “hey how are ya?”. Dad replied “Im great, how are you?” and the old man sat up right real quick and said “Jesus Christ!!! Now that’s one hell of an accent!” At any rate, the woman tending bar said that the kitchen was closed (even though there was more than one sign that stated it should be open) they just do as they please around here then. Anyhow, we had a beer each as not to be rude. I had a Carling but was slightly nervous drinking the whole pint on what was now an empty stomach… plus dad’s driving in England. He had to help me finish it a bit. He enjoyed one of the local ales and we went on our slightly more laughable way.

The drive to the restaurant we were directed to was filled with hoots and laughter since the drink was strong. But we made it there alive and divulged into a steak and ale pie with peas and chips. It was a great meal! They also had wifi, so we called mom to let her know we were both alive.

Then we made for the north again.

After sleeping for 5 hours, traveling with my dad, and having a belly full of pie and ale, it was really difficult to stay awake for the rest of the drive. Every time I got quiet dad would say “Heeeey now!!! I have jet lag and I am still going, don’t leave me hanging!” So I would stay awake. Then get quiet “Noooooo jozi you wake up!” So I would blabber on about things I have learned, information that is irrelevant to normal people but treasured by me and my father.

At the next rest stop we decided we should probably book a place to stay that night, as it was getting dark and lord only knows where we were going to sleep. After some speculation and careful consideration to location and price, I booked a room at the Castle Bar Hotel in Bishop Auckland. (The town where the Bishop of Durham Cathedral lives/lived)

Once it got dark it started to rain. Driving in the dark, rainy, wrong side of the road would be cause for concern but my dad is a warrior! We only got honked at twice, and almost got side swept once in a roundy. We made it to the hotel with my crappy navigational skills by 8 or 9pm. The place was really quite nice and the town was adorable. The Castle Bar Hotel was really quite deserted for a Saturday night, so it made me suspicious. Was the food bad? Do they have ghosts? Is the service mean? Well, the food was delicious, we had a salad and some bread and other fiddles. During dinner a football team was there and they were gearing up for their match tomorrow. Their coach was inebriated but really friendly when he was talking to us in his drunken Newcastle accent. You couldn’t understand a word the man was saying but we stood there, agreed, and nodded. There was a ghost, Mary, who haunted the upstairs where we were staying, but she was supposedly a friendly ghost so nothing bad happened. Just the erry something standing on your chest feeling. What, you don’t get that? Must be a gypsy thing. The service was great, the women that worked there were super friendly.

We found out why it was deserted. At 11pm, there was a Halloween party. This was probably the biggest party this small town sees all year. So to say the least dad did not get to sleep until about 2 or 3 once the party moved outside or died.

The room was comfortable though and I slept like a baby since I was used to annoying noise outside. The shower was epic. The space was incredible compared to the tiny, rather dirty shower I use in London. So I took a long hot shower. I won’t talk about how dad blew up the toilet though. And I won’t talk about how he blew up every toilet from the wall, to London, to Waterloo…

We had breakfast brought up to our room and I ate my entire meal. I have never eaten that much breakfast since I have been in this country. I ate all the beans, all the sausage, all the bread, all the tomatoes. I ate all the mushrooms and everything else on my plate EXCEPT the black pudding. I didn’t even humor that idea after the haggis incident. Dad had a bite of his I think, but didn’t really like it. Shocking. He ate quite a bit for breakfast which is surprising because he usually doesn’t eat much at all for breakfast.

We loaded our bags up again, and headed out. Trying to get out of the awkward car park was a challenge. It was actually a carwash as well, so there was a woman waiting to get her car washed (in the rain) while we were trying to back out. She made no effort to scoot out of the way. But anyhow, in due time, we made our way out of the lot and onto the road.

The drive that morning was one of the most beautiful and enjoyable drives of my life. We drove through Northumberland. Over hills and through valleys, past cows and sheep that mom would love. We chased a rainbow for hours until we were practically underneath it. Have you ever seen a rainbow’s end? Have you ever seen a rainbow so bold you can hardly see through it? We hadn’t until then. We pulled off the road at certain lookout points and just watched the nature and snapped some pictures. The beauty of this land is immense and goes on for what seems like forever.

The wall snuck up on us in our drive, we arrived in a small town that had tiny little roads so we knew it was ancient.  We were not sure if we should stop there or keep going. We kept going. We turned left and drove along and I was looking around at the landscape and I said “Hey dad… I think we are driving on the wall”. He hesitated, observed the landscape and said “Holy Crap, we really are!” Then the nerding started. I poked his arm repeatedly like a child and said “Dad! Dad! Dad! You’re at the wall! Youre here! Here, at the wall! Hadrians Wall! The Roman one!” We laughed then fell silent again and just started out the windows at the wall and the Northumberland lands.

We went on to one of the Roman forts that had been dug up and identified. This place was sweet! You could walk through the remnants of everything. At the barracks I walking in about half of the doorways to the rooms and said “Hi, Im Jozi, How are you?” and walked out. We walked down further and found the gates to the fort, and to the other side of the wall basically! We walked down to the river and found the bathhouses and bridge that cross the swiftly flowing river. This thing could suck you in even if you were standing 10 feet back on the bank. Swoosh!

It started to do that annoying thing that the weather does in England, mist. It doesn’t really rain, it just mists and sometimes the mist gets fatter. It really just depends. But classically, it started to mist so we went back to the museum and poked around at the artifacts. There were a couple skulls, some weapons, bowls, and a shoe, etc. It was kids day or something so there was a million and five children running around. But in the museum a guy (that worked there) was telling the kids an interactive story about a Roman man that would have lived there. It was so cute! It was basically what I want to do when I grow up. Teach kids history in a way that they like it and find it cool. So I eaves dropped like a creep and then we exited.

In the gift shop/exit, dad stopped and talked to some girl about things to do in the area and such. She recommended some places to go in York once we got there, and all sorts of things so that was cool to talk to her, but she sort of droned on forever and I was ready to go. Dad and I took off for the next place, but ended up passing it and not turning around.

Up the road was the Twice Brewed Inn, and we were hungry for lunch! So we went in this old pub to get some chow. It was Sunday and I had been wanting to try a ‘traditional Sunday roast’. Good thing we split the roast beef because it was a giant meal. It was so good though! It had carrots, some strange vegetable, some other lettuce like veggie, Yorkshire pudding (which is basically a pot of gravy in a little bread bowl/pot), roast beef and mashed potatoes. Holy cow it was epic. We had tea and sticky toffee pudding to finish up. By the time we were done eating we were thawed out from the cold British misting elements.

So we made our way back the way we came in our little black VW polo. Vroom vroom. We made it Halsteads Fort or something like that, I don’t remember the name and I am too lazy to take the postcard off my bulletin board to see what it was really called. It was really sweet though. This fort was about 5 times bigger than the other one. Although this one was quite a walk off from the road.

On the walk down the hill into a small valley, and then back up another hill to the fort, of course it was filled with sheep. I attempted to pet one but they just are not very friendly little turds, are they? So then I decided to herd them with my arms. (swoosh swoosh like I was a bird trying to fly) they moved like I was a real shepherd! I would consider it a win.

Once we got to the fort, we were once again frozen by the elements, luckily there was another shop and museum up there. We went and thawed off and read some rubbish bulletins about the fort. Ok, it wasn’t rubbish at all, it was really cool. Dad got a prize for my little brother and some post cards. They also had these little pins that said “History Matters” and I asked if they were for sale and he guy said “well not really, we are just giving them to the kids today, but you can have one if you want”. So I took one hehe, because I am a nerd and a child. Dad got one as well!

We wandered around this chilling fort, the misting had stopped but the wind picked up and tried to throw me off the wall as I stood on the edge of the empire. It was slightly epic once we got to the ‘wall’ end of the fort because if you are a historian, you can just imagine them building the wall and looking out over there… “Tacitus, beyond this wall lies barbarians!” Dad and I basked in the history of the wall for quite a wall just enjoying ourselves with a stupid grin on our faces.

We headed back to the car after herding the sheep on the way back. We dethawed in the car for a few minutes then began driving back to York. As the road got darker, and the mist got fatter, I drifted to sleep.