Blenheim Palace and the Weston Air Festival

In my final weekend where I had to return to Cirencester, I drove east toward Blenheim Palace.

Mayfield Camp camp site outside Cirencester - not dicks. 

I went to Buscot Park at some point too - I forget when. But it was sometime around here!

En-route I stopped not far from Faringdon in a quiet free park to visit Waylands Smithy. Faringdon is where I picked up the van from - with my booked departure it felt a bit like going full circle, eventhough I have many months of amazing touring to come yet! But it was nice, being back on these roads. In March I was petrified, the van felt like a big monster, and I felt vulnerable and out of my depth. But returning three months later, it was striking to me how I felt in comparison. I remember my concern and worry, but so foreign they seemed to me now. I know I've grown and changed a lot the last few months in terms of having the balls to do things by myself, but experiencing some tangible demonstration of that was nice verification. Anyhow, I revisited White Horse Hill and the neighbouring ancient site of Waylands Smithy.

Waylands Smithy

Waylands Smithy is an ancient (3000BC) burial mound along the Ridgeway track. After enduring some hoons over the evening (last hoons I had at night were at Whitehorse Hill, first night!) in the morning I donned my running gear and ran the Ridgeway back to White Horse Hill. It was much nicer in June than in March! The fog had lifted and the view was spectacular. And I even saw the horse this time!

The White Horse - visible this time!

Returning from my run (let's be truthful - my stroll) it was still only 9am, and being a Sunday nothing was open. (Not sure if I've mentioned this, but in the UK Sunday trading has been curtailed for the big retailers. They're only allowed to open for six hours, most opting for 10am-4pm. I support it ideologically, but in practical terms it is a real pain!) Nearby was Ashcroft Estate, a small National Trust site - so I popped in there to kill some time and eat breakfast. The beautiful, gingerbread-esque Dutch styled manor is tenanted. A kindly dog walker told me the tenant is none other than the world-famous [NAME REDACTED]. Crazy!

Ashcroft Estate, from afar!

Time sufficiently killed, I drove on to Blenheim Palace. Now I had ignored Blenheim Palace because on my touring map it wasn't an NT or English Heritage site, and the private manors I've seen have usually been a pointless expense. Nothing better than a site I could visit for free, but not free. So I was fortunate to have the Palace recommended to me as a must-see - because wow!

Blenheim Palace

In gratitude to the Duke of Marlborough's victory in battle in 1706(ish), the Government wrote the Duke a blank cheque for him to build himself a manor worthy of such a hero. Don't write a dude a blank cheque, and especially not with public funds! After 40 years, the palace is obscenely grandiose, imposing and jaw-droppingly stunning - even if the Duke didn't live to see it completed!

Unfortunately my excitement was tempered by arriving into a huge queue of visiting tourism traffic, and my UK eftpos card declining a measley £21! The SHAME! Fortunately I had enough cash, I can only imagine the face-burning humiliation of having to turn around my old van on the grass and slowly make my way through the arriving throngs. Though many people had no problem with that - no less than five visitors left after baulking at the excessive price of entry. Most were in gleaming Jaguars and the like, amusing. (Don't worry about me becoming destitute folks - the lack of UK funds was due to an administrative error in my daisy chain of invoices and timesheets over here).

Shame subsiding, I built myself an amazing sandwich and ate it in the Great Court while soaking up the ambience. I noticed a lot of oldies with bright polo shirts - turns out they were part of a 300ish person choir, there to sing WW1 era showtunes. I waited patiently for them to get cracking, which they did at the slothlike pace applicable to swarms of oldies hanging out with friends. I entertained myself watching a Mediterranean guard futilely trying to stop people 'walking on the gravel' - and once the choir got started it was quite something. A real time-warp.

The Choir

Out the back they had an exhibition on Blenheim at War. I read about the 1700s battle and more about Winston Churchill, who was born on site. For some reason I always thought Winston Churchill was from humble beginnings - how wrong could I be?!

Enjoyed some amateur club cricket with the Palace behind.

Farewelling my work in Cirencester was a bit lousy. Even after a month I had grown attached! It's even harder when you're not sticking around - the chances of your paths crossing again being so much less likely. However I was whistling 'On the Road Again' all week, and farewell them I did - with a spring in my step, back on tour!

To kick off the tour, I jumped in the van after work and drove back down to Somerset, down to North Pletherton, to pick up my friend Kate whom I met in Bath a few weeks earlier. I brought some Marlborough Cab Sav to thank her folks for having me stay in their conservatory for the evening - my first New Zealand wine since I left!

In the morning I practised the travellers virtues of tolerance and patience while Kate got her shit together for the road ahead. We were to head to Weston Super Mare to experience the Weston Air Festival, and as the time ticked by I grew a little concerned that we wouldn't find a parking space! These fears turned out to be unfounded, as we found a motorhome specific parking space with a high price tag but no hassle. £10 was a minuscule price for such an amazing airshow!

The show is a recruitment and fundraising drive for the RAF and along the esplanade were plenty of stalls and that. We enjoyed ourselves strolling around, seeing the little mini tanks on the beach, the food, the carnie rides, and the freakshow that turned out for the show. It was so hot and we were tired, so we made the most of motorhome travel and retired back to the van in preparation for the show.

An airshow from the beach - beat that!

Things kicked off - literally - with the ace paratroopers' formation floating in and one of them kicking an 80-year old spectator in the face. (That happened on the Sunday, not the Saturday, but still worth mentioning). That accident aside (and it is a sad accident!) they were amazing, and once again my interest in paragliding was heightened.

Amazing close formation flying - I think it was their speed-corkscrew landing that forced the face-kick 

I was surprised to see the airshow standards were quite similar to those in New Zealand, with the Pitt Special being absolutely mindblowing as usual. But the Spitfire and Hurricane doing the WW2 flyby were all the more meaningful over English soil and it was pretty special to be part of the English crowd watching. And when Sally B flew by, the B17 which played the role of Memphis Belle, I was moved. A special moment!

Sally B, the B17

The Red Arrows also made a stunning appearance, swooping in with Red, White and Blue smoke. The show they put on was amazing - my mind was blown by their accuracy in three dimensions! Absolutely stunning, and again it was quite special to see with an English crowd. Kate hadn't been to an airshow before and was having her mind blown by some of the mad moves - like a child her wonder was infectious and I couldn't help but be caught up in it!

After the airshow we headed off back to Wales. It's a hell of a trip so far - more on that later.

I'm thoroughly enjoying travelling with Kate. You can do these things by yourself, and that's awesome - but doing it with a friend, someone to share it all with - in many respects it's a burden halved, and it feels like bliss.

Cirencester and surrounds 2: Bath, some towns n tracks n that.

My time in Cirencester is drawing to a close. It's been a real privilege to work with these lovely folks in such a gorgeous city in one of England's beauty spots - during spring what's more. The number of baby bunnies I have seen! But I'm a 3 tonne rolling stone now and a month is enough. It's time to move on.

But before I do, here's the conclusion of my adventure within Cirencester and surrounds.

In Cirencester, I have been sleeping around. All around the town.

One of the spots I slept was the Highwayman Inn, north of town. Here I met an old couple who were motorhoming it up, and we talked campers. I expressed my concerns about solo travel doing what we're doing. In response they kindly drew upon their experience and lifetimes of wisdom to put me at ease. They told me tales of European locals injecting gas through door locks to knock out the sleeping occupants of campervans, before robbing them or worse. Wonderful.

I watched New Zealand beat England in the first test, cup of tea in hand over breakfast. Streamed onto my laptop through a live sports website tethered through my cellphone. Speaking with my family after the game, I think I was more excited about the technology involved in allowing this feat more than the game! Though from me, that doesn't deserve an exclamation mark at all. However without the footy shoved down my throat I do find myself drawn to supporting our team on the world stage - Dad'll have to teach me the finer points of the game when I return!

I slept outside Kemble airfield. An aero engineer who was made redundant bought an old 747 with his payout, stripped it for parts, and made a mint. Now it's a big business for him, and this airfield is littered with retired airliners. It is quite something! So though the layby was close to the road, the view was so novel I thought I'd give it a crack.

Kemble Airfield

This wasn't that pleasant in the end; a truck rammed himself in behind me, so I moved to the very far front edge of the layby incase another truck needed some space. Later on another truck did come in, cab ended up parallel with the van. The dude played rock music until about 11:30pm. In the morning, a ute with trailer (one of the travelling food stall dudes) pulled in and parked me in, so I missed dawn light on the airline carcasses, the whole point of the outing!

Good morning!

The local caravan club park got wise to my working in town, and asked me straight up - so I had to lie about it. I hate to lie, it's not in my nature (I am far too lazy), but it's against their policy and I didn't want to lose my membership or have any drama. So not returning there again, I tried another site to maintain the van, a bit further from town. These guys didn't give a shit which was nice! And from their lawn I saw a B52 flying by low and a stealth bomber shaped something - along with the standard compliment of a dozen bunnies.

Finally I spent a few nights in the carpark of the the Crown Inn in Cerney Wick, just south of Cirencester. The proprietor, Graham, is a real gentleman and I'm more than happy to send my money to him rather than to some large conglomerate of ageist unreasonable jerks (Caravan Club).

I know you were really curious about where I sleep, so there you go. It has proven to be quite a stressor, finding places to sleep in the evening this month. I haven't much enjoyed being stuck in one place in the van. In hindsight maybe I should've just paid the extra accomodation money and stayed at a campsite the whole month; but that would have necessitated another week or two of working here and I really don't want to do that - it's a waste of my remaining days, an inefficient use of my time!

On with the tourism! I went back to Bath last weekend. Enroute I visited the site of the Battle of Lansdown, 1643, from the civil war. It's still quite something to me, that the stone walls of these fields were there then and all that. So old!

From the wall

I visited Bath on a day trip from London last year but wanted to spend a bit more time there. A beautiful sunny day, it was nice to potter about at leisure.

Bath abbey

The royal crescent

In Bath I met another Gumtree random, Kate. She snuck in replying to my old travel buddy wanted ad after I decided to stop bothering with it. And it turned out to be a case of lucky last! Recently returned from her much more ambitious global adventures, she's a massive geek and quite a wordsmith. We got along famously and she's going to join me for some of my Wales tour.

At the Courts Garden

We got to know one another wandering around Bath, visiting the Abbey, strolling the river, pottering about. In the evening we visited a country pub and I got decimated at scrabble.

In the morning I had a bit of a hangover, and was rather indecisive about a plan. We went to The Courts Garden, another National Trust wee gem of a garden. Just sat around reading books in the sun, not too bad!

Dropping Kate off later in the day, I headed back to Cirencester for another week of trading my life for money.

The weekend after I headed north of Cirencester. My colleague had suggested Bourton on the water as worth a look, so I drove in there. Then right back out of there - there was no parking whatsoever, and the overflow parking outside town had installed height barriers to stop vans of my height. Fortunately every town around there is stunning, and I stopped at nearby Stow-on-the-wold. Wonderful wee shops n shit - unfortunately I don't enjoy shopping for crap so after wandering the streets, I am often done after 30 minutes!

Stow-on-the-wold. What's a wold?

Heading further north, I visited the Fleece Inn in Bretforton. Built in 1200, it's an extremely old pub, run by the National Trust. I had a nice Wye Valley half-pint in the sun just marvelling at the age of these places, and enjoying that they're still being used, doing their thing, century upon century. Lifetimes come and go and the building keeps doing it's thing - it's just trippy for a chap like me, from a country which feels more and more like a seedling!

The Fleece Inn, and a responsible half-pint.

The exterior wall - look at that buckle!

The evening pressing in, I visited the Chastleton House. Unfortunately they'd been full of shit in the guidebook, and had closed when I arrived. So I snuck into the gardens and read my book for a half hour or so before being shuffled out with the other evening stragglers - 5pm seems a tad early to be kicked out of lovely gardens when the sun still has heat in it at 8pm!

Chastleton House

In the morning I visited another site, Hidcote Manor Garden. This was an 'Americans idea of an English Garden' - and quite lovely really. Spent a wee bit of time reading here, then hit the road to go have an adventure. I'm getting restless, doing this sedentary shit - bring on the Welsh and Scottish adventures!

This was just an NT viewpoint walk on the Cotswold Way I have lost the name of. Lovely! 

Enroute back to Cirencester I visited Cleeve hill, above Cheltenham. Amazing views across the English countryside, with the cute wee towns tucked around the place. Sheep were grazing on the golf course, it was all rather lovely.

Cleeve Hill

That evening I found it a bit of a pain in the ass - I wanted to stay at a pub, have a beer. But so many of these country ones are closed on Sundays - a real pain in the ass. Ended up with this view for the evening -lousy.

Packing it in

Last week I made a decision I had been grappling with a while, and decided to book my ticket back to the lovely Aotearoa after summer wraps up here.

But why Lawrie why?!

The main reason is that I've run out of touring money. I have had to take a real job and stop moving around and that has taken some of the shine off living in a van.

Further, my experience of UK winter was cold, dreary, dark and miserable. If I can't go to Spain and Italy like I was hoping to and instead need to put myself to work, why not do that in the sunshine? If I follow the sun back to New Zealand I get to further my career at home, spend much desired time with family and friends and sit in the sun, beer and BBQ, for 18 months straight.

The van (whose name in vogue is Dorothy - no place like home) will be stored and wait patiently for my return in April or so 2015.

Logically it all checks out - I get to enjoy my family and friends and recharge emotionally and financially for tour number two. Emotionally however, it still feels like I'm giving up. Giving up on the adventure.

But emotions be damned! I am a global man now! A trip back to New Zealand isn't a one way ticket! Even if I could only afford a one way ticket!

So there you have it - despite the love and excitement and the feeling I am just getting started, I have drawn a line in the sand for me to pack it up. I arrive home on the 27th of September.

On the upside, having this defined date is structuring my remaining UK tour better. With a definite end I have been able to budget my remaining time. In two weeks I will be leaving the Kallidus office and heading back to Wales to pick up where I left off.

I've thoroughly enjoyed my month or so here in Cirencester, working with such a lovely bunch of British friends. Yes I will call them friends, whether they see it that way or not. If I had come straight here in August last year things may have been very different indeed! But I didn't. And now I am more driven than ever to see what I can in the time I have foolishly constrained myself to.

Adventures around and about the region continue as I have been able to have them - more on those later. This is just a dull update post, with NO PICTURES. So if you skipped everything I wrote, you skipped it for nothing.