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Published: April 10th 2011
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The email was short and sweet. A few train times, Manchester airport 4:06 to Westhoughton 4:56 and a casual “See you soon”. So I was to be picked up at the Westhoughton train station by my friend Mike (who I met in Wellington, New Zealand near the start of this trip). The instructions were simple and proved to be accurate. The only trouble I had was the ticket lady correcting my pronunciation of the town name Westhoughton a few times. I gave up trying to say it properly and she gave up correcting me. I got off the train at the stop I was directed to find out that it wasn't really a train station but just a platform in a little town. It was cool (poor coat selection once again) with no sign of my friend Mike. I tried calling, but Mike's phone had no service. All to do, wait. In about 5 minutes a red car pulled up to where I was standing. I knew that face, it was Mike.
I haven't seen Mike in nearly a year and a half, so we did have some catching up to do as we drove through the North England countryside.
It was pointed out to me that we were driving north, and that some scenes I may see might make me think New Zealand with the green hills, the sheep and the cloudy weather. We had planned a reunion involving Mike, Phil, Anja and myself. There is significance to this reunion as my first real friends on this trip happened to be the trio of Phil, Mike and Anja. I remember the day, driving into Wellington in the pouring rain, driving the streets map-less with no idea of where I was to spend the night. I parked a good distance from the YHA hostel and was wearing a grouchy face when I walked past the trio into the reception lobby. I was frustrated from the one way streets, lack of parking and the hungry belly that kept reminding me that it was past food time. I got some food then seated myself in the lounge of the hostel when the trio I met in the doorway walked in, one of them with a guitar strapped to their back. Now this was before the days of me acquiring my travel companion and I was eager to de-stress by strumming a few
chords on that guitar. I hesitated but the urge to play was greater then the fear of approaching strangers. Once asked Mike handed me the guitar without hesitation and with a smile. I sat and played for awhile then returned the guitar feeling much better wearing a fresh smile. They invited me to join them for a few drinks. Hours later we were receiving a round of applause from a handful of backpackers for our drunken version of “Thunder Road”. After a night of drinks, laughs and songs we were en route to becoming friends. Months later I am in there natural habitat in Northern England, Cumbria.
Pulled into the hostel beside the lake to spot Phil standing beside the picturesque lake with a pint in hand. The three of us reunited, plus it was Mike's birthday. We had some celebrating to do. Some food, then into the booze. Mike works and lives at the hostel, so we drank in the staff housing building with a few of the staff then ventured into Ambleside town to have a few more drinks. The pubs close early in small town England, so we found ourselves highly intoxicated and back at the
hostel around midnight. The guitars came out, four in total, along with one tambourine and one bongo all being played inside one small room with one forgotten open window. The room full of wannabe or pretend musicians, getting more into with the passing moments. 10 minute versions of “Hey Jude”, “Hey Ya” and the song “Fat Man Blues” with lyrics written by Phil, just like we did in Lake Tekapo. The noise complaints were to come. It took maybe 45 minutes, maybe less, into our small room performance before the complaints started. We had to pull the curtain on the jam session prematurely.
The next day brought grey skies, wind, rain, unhappy staff and hangovers for plenty of us. Anja was arriving in the afternoon, so Mike went to pick her up at the airport while Phil and I walked around Ambleside town. Beautiful old buildings, cute little streets, pretty little shops with the little village surrounded by lovely green hills. With the arrival of Anja that evening, I was now reunited with my 3 first travel friends from this trip. It was bizarre but great to sit together chat, catch up and be friends. I have been travelling
long enough now that encounters with people no longer shock me. I learned it's amazing how you meet people, who you keep in touch with and who you will see again. This was to be my last day in England, my second last day on the road before the credits of my trip were to roll. As the four of us enjoyed a casual night of a few beers I found my thoughts trailing away from the conversations, thinking about how long ago it was when we met, how nice it is to sitting here and accepting that the randomness of travel and realizing the unplannable events of travel was near completion for me.
The next morning we all got up early for the Manchester Airport drive. My proud northern friends were teaching me about the north the whole way to the airport. We listened to folk music, talked about pies, sport teams, Wigan monopoly boards, football teams and other random facts. I sat, I listened, I tried to sop up the special moment wondering if we could ever swap roles at some point in the future.
It was my final round of goodbyes for this trip. It
was a difficult round as I have known this gang for nearly two years, have kept in touch, made good memories, and call each of them friend from the bottom of my heart. I walked away with an empty feeling inside, telling myself I am a man and not allowing myself to turn to look and see if they were still there. I want to give Mike a huge thank you for the invitation, the transport, accommodation and the proud chats about the area. Thanks to Phil for making the small trek down so we could make memories on his home turf in Cumbria (how many stories have I heard about Cumbria in the last 2 years?). And a thanks to Anja for showing up while I was around. It was a nice ending, faces of friends and a relaxed place. The first strange faces that became my friends were the last faces of friends I would see before I got back to Canadian soil.
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