Ireland 2010
  
 

Day 02

June 11

  
   
  When I come back to my senses, breakfast such as it is is being served. I flip on the map option of the console in front of me to see where we are. Fortunately we are close to landing, but unfortunately they did not make up much time during the flight.  
   
  Once we are on the ground, the standard message appears. It is only a few days later that the irony of this message will hit me square in the head.  
   
  We come into terminal 4, and are soon directed to a train that will take us to customs and ground transportation. Gareth, who lives in the UK and travels, gave us a pretty direct route path to follow. We'll take a bus over to Feltham Station then a train directly to Wandsworth Town, where AboutTown, the rental place, is now located.  
   
 

We get through customs with little adieu, and then head for the bus terminal. I'm a bit confused about where to get my tickets. After standing in line for a while, I finally get to a real human who lets me know that I am in the wrong line. The bus I need is a regular city bus and it picks up outside. As Sharyn and I make our way out with our luggage, I tell her -

"I'd better get some change. The bus driver will not be real happy if I try to hand him some paper money".

So I go back inside to a little market, and the gentleman behind the counter is extremely helpful. I buy a Coke and ask him -

"Can you give me some change for two bus fares back?"

"Sure. They don't like to make change on the buses" he tells me.

"That's what I figured. Thanks a bunch."

After I get back outside to Sharyn, it's not long until our bus arrives. After a little grunt work, we get the bags on the bus and pick our seats. It's about a 25 minute bus ride to the train terminal. The good thing about buses in London proper is they are usually clean and on time and the routes are well marked.

  
   
  When we get to Feltham Train Station, I give up trying to buy tickets from one of the machines. Fortunately there is a real human on duty, so I ask the right questions and get the right tickets for the right train. She even opens up the handicap gate so we can get our luggage out to the platform.  
   
 

Not many folks are traveling at this time of the morning, so we pretty much have the pick of seats. A fellow rider gets on with this neat, fold up bicycle. I tell him -

"That's one of the slickest rigs I've seen in a while.".

"Yes", he tells me "I ride it to work from the train, then fold up and tuck it under my desk."

You can tell that it is very well thought out and very well made.

"I wouldn't do long distances on it, but it is really splendid for commuting" he adds.

  
   
 

The train ride is less than 30 minutes and we arrive at the Wandsworth Town Station. The station itself is a bit run down, and we finally figure out that we need to go down these long flights of stairs. Fortunately, an innocent bystander who is a gentleman grabs Sharyn's bags as I struggle to get mine down first. I'm always thankful for folks who have not lost kindness along the rough path of life. It saves us a time, since I don't have to hobble back up the steps and retrieve her bags. When we cone out at the end of the stairs back into the daylight, I don't have a clue as to which way AboutTown is. Fortunately, there is a street vendor just out the door who is cooking some mighty fine sausages. So I ask him -

"Do you know which way Ferrier Street is?"

"Yes, just around the corner that way" he tells me.

"Thanks a bunch" and Sharyn and I are off. Since the last time I rented from AboutTown, they have moved into more spacious quarters, a few blocks ways from where they were. Before long, we arrive at the new place.

  
   
 

Miss Anna and a mechanic that I recognize from previous rentals greet me. She starts the paperwork as the mechanic goes out to finish preparing the bike. Soon Mike, the owner, comes down and gives me the grand tour of the new facilities. I tell some of his folks -

"I bet you really hate having all of this room to work in".

They just grin, nod their heads and keep at it. The other place was very small and I was always amazed at how they could get so much stuff in such little space.

  
   
 

After we get the final paperwork done, we go out for the safety lecture and review of the bike. With that behind us, I realize that the VFR1200 only has about 2/3s the luggage space of a ST1100 or ST1300. Given our time crunch, I've got to sort what goes and what stays in short order - on half a brain since I'm still on Nashville time. We finally sort out how to mount the tank bag that I have brought with us and get the bike loaded. I end up leaving more than I would like to at AboutTown, but I get the most important stuff aboard. Mike is going to keep our luggage for us which I really appreciate. He does a little look see on the GPS and says -

"Well, I don't know if you are going to have enough time to make the ferry or not. The GPS says 7:30 arrival time."

Since we are supposed to be there an hour before boarding time, this makes my head hurt since it's past that. He gives me the best instructions to get to M4 which will take us to Swansea, but in my dull state, I can't take them in. Since I don't have time to load up the ZUMO 550 GPS with my routes, I'll just have to wing it from memory ... such as it is.

"I guess I'd better get rolling then" and Sharyn tries to climb on board. She is vertically challenged and the VFR is pretty tall for a passenger to get on. Mike helps and we decide we'll have to figure something out on for her getting aboard the next time. The foot pegs are higher than what I am used to and the handlebars are much lower, but we get setup and are off like a rocket.

  
   
  I find the A204, the South Circular Road, pretty quickly going from what I remember. I know it will eventually take me to a M4 entrance ramp and that it is well marked along the route. Traffic is busy as always, but then I remember that I can filter (lane split to us colonists). Fortunately for us, a lady on a Yamaha scooter starts it and I just play 'follow the leader'. A funny thing about filtering, the more you do it, the more brave you get about it. Or maybe it is just my lack of proper sleep ...  
   
  I almost shout when I see the M4 sign, knowing that I have just negotiated my way out of London Proper without the aid of a GPS or a map. Usually another UK rider meets me and does the honors, but today I wing it and do all right. Soon we are blasting along on our way to the ferry, I realize that the VFR1200 has a piece of plastic on the front that is supposed to be a windshield, but it ain't. But we've got a ferry to catch, so we just keep cooking as best we can.  
   
 

I have no clue how much fuel it will take and when I see one bar blinking I figure I am in trouble. With time clicking by, I decide to use the "Find Fuel" feature on the GPS that I have heard others talk about. Much to my frustration, it sends us in the opposite direction. When I realize this, I have to get off and head back the way we are supposed to. At the next exit, I get off and find a sympathetic person who directs us the a nearby petrol station. It's a quick fill up and we are back at our mad rush to the ferry. When we finally get off M4, the signs to the ferry are very well marked. That is one thing I love about the UK - the highway signage is excellent and very easy to understand. It appears that the ferry has not left yet, and a gentleman at the entrance guides us to the check in.

 
   
 

At check in, it appears that I will need my passport which I cannot find now. I fear that I have left it in the luggage back at AboutTown. Sharyn, being much more organized that me, has hers handy and gives it to me. I decide I'll just have to wing it on my charms and my Tennessee driver's license since the departure time is looming. Fortunately, my charm must be working, as the lady checks us in and points us to the Julia, our ferry to Ireland.

  
   
  When a deck hand directs us to a parking spot behind some trailers, I never dream what the reality of that location is. We will find out in the morning, but right now our ignorance is bliss. We have made the ferry with just thirty minutes to spare, but at least we made it. Now all we have to do is tie down the bike, climb upstairs, and get our overnight cabin assigned. I am emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted and so is Sharyn - little sleep, driving on the 'proper' side of the road, schedule trashed, and no GPS that we can depend on as of yet. But at least we are here and some decent food and a good night's sleep will make a world of difference. Our cabin is nice enough and 'ensuite' (bathroom included) and Sharyn and I take advantage of the shower. It's nice to get the overnight stink from two days in the same clothes washed off. As we collect our thoughts, I decide to try to download the routes to the GPS from my netbook like I did on Ken's ZUMO 550 in Texas. The ZUMO 550 locks up so now it is a useless, expensive brick. I finally get it to shut off and give it another try. This time it digests my routes and appears to be happy. So at least we may be okay, but I have still made my old fashioned route notes as I always do just in case technology has a bad day. With that bit of administration out of the way, we decide to wander upstairs to see what we can find to eat.  
   
  There are two restaurants on board - a fancy, foo-foo one, and one for us regular folks. The 'regular folks' one has a nice variety to chose from and I chose a 'cottage pie' and some nice veggies. I've always liked 'shepherd's pie' so I figure it is a close cousin and it is. (I later learn that 'shepherd's pie is usually made from lamb and 'cottage pie' is usually made from beef.) Sharyn picks out a nice shrimp salad that looks very tasty. She is also introduced to 'fizzy' and 'no fizz' water as she gets the 'fizzy' kind by mistake, going by the label. I give her the short introduction, which she files away for future reference. She doesn't care for it, so I share my drink and we finish up supper.  
   
  It's a really nice ferry and we catch a little of the scenery before we head back downstairs to our room.  
   
  As we drift quickly off to a peaceful sleep, little do we realize the heartache that will overtake us before we pillow our heads again.