Tues., July 4 - Independence Day! Tavistock
Rode in hard rain from Tintagel. Walked a few miles along the cliffs last
night after finding lodging in Trevalga. Had a bit of trouble finding a
place- Boscastle hostel and B&Bs, and at least one hotel were full. I guess I
am going to call it a trip, after the climax on the cliffs last night.
England's schools are letting out in a week, so lodging will become even more
difficult to find. 15 miles to Plymouth tomorrow, train to London, and plane
back to the States (hope it goes that smoothly....) Am now sitting at a hotel
bar passing the afternoon. Is now 2:00. Wind last night (and yesterday) along
the cliffs was strong enough to make standing difficult. Unreal! The waves
were incredible, as wind was blowing straight in to shore. Lunch at Stoke was
my cheapest yet, and as filling as any. 65p for a Cornish pastie, chips and a
pot of tea. "Hobby Drive" at Clovelly, cost 5p and was torturously rough-
they should have paid me! Got very pissed, especially when a
lady at a car park made me move my bike from my chosen spot for no good reason
I could see. But that and the rain today were the only negative aspects of the last couple
of days.
Nevertheless, I am ready to go home. I've had enough of being by myself. I may
still change my mind, but I doubt it. Am about to be kicked out of the bar,
since it closes at 2:30 until evening.
Proceeded back across the street to cafe where I had lunch upon arriving,
and stayed there until nearly five. I had the company of a fine old couple in
the cafe who sat down with me. The man was quite a talker, and I would nearly
have stayed past five (when the hostel opened) but they were leaving anyway.
July 6, Heathrow to O'Hare via 747!
Stayed at Windsor hostel after a hectic day yesterday. Caught the 10:50
from Plymouth after riding the 15 miles from Tavistock with another American
cyclist I caught up with on the way- a younger boy from San Jose. Rode to the
train station with him- he knew the way having arrived that way in SW
England. Also rode the train with him to N. Central London (It turned out
I took the wrong train- I shuld have caught one to S. London to make the
connection to Gatwick.) So I rode through rush hour traffic to Victoria
Station in S. London to make the connection to Gatwick (the airport we flew
into.) Was able to use my ticket from Plymouth! At Gatwick I spent a
frustrating couple hours wheeling my bike around the airport trying to find a
cheap way back to the states. Finally figured out that the best way was by TWA
to Chicago, on standby- also about the only way, that wasn't booked up for at
least a week. But TWA flew out of Heathrow, 40 miles distant. So I decided to
spend the night at Windsor, the nearest hostel to Heathrow. So I caught
another train, had to make a transfer with seconds to spare (throwing my
bike from one train onto the other- it was fortunate that in England you
handle your own luggage, or my bike wouldn't have made it.) Was worried about
getting into the hostel, because I didn't arrive until 8:30 or 9. But it was a
large hostel, and, strangely, almost empty. It could hold 79.
(Some hostels hold only a dozen or less). Got up early this morning, had to
break into the member's kitchen to make breakfast- last night I had told the
house parent I had to leave early in the morning to get on stand-by, and he
said "Fine, I'm always up that early - I'll let you in the kitchen to make
your breakfast and give you your chore." But he didn't appear until I was
nearly through cleaning up after breakfast- never questioning how I got into
the kitchen (which was its own separate little building.) I had to make a very
similar entry at Trevalga where my hosts at the B&B promised to leave the door
open for me when I went out to the cliffs for the evening- both times I had to
find windows I could jimmy. Anyway, I left at 7am, rode the ten miles to the
airport and got into standby line at TWA, where I stood for an hour and a
half. Was booked onto the second-to-last seat on the plane! Worst part of the
day was trying to prepare my bike for luggage-
couldn't get my pedals off (supposedly a requirement for using the airline's
bike boxes). Got help from a nice German couple, got one loose, but while
working on the other the wrench slipped out of my hands ( the man was holding
the bike) and hit the girl just below the eye. Aaagh! She "only" got a welt-
said the fear was worse than the hurt. She spoke English, he didn't. She had
been translating for us as we worked. Anyway, never got the pedal off. In the
mean time, a TWA worker was scouring the airport for a box- couldn't find one.
I left my bike with the couple, and looked at all the other airlines, no
luck. Was told it was OK. *(It was).
I was also very lucky in Chicago. United was the only airline flying to
Mpls due to NW Airlines strike. I talked to a passing United employee while I
was in line at the ticket desk, and he told me there were already 30 people
on standby for the only flight into Mpls that night. So I got out of line to
try and reach my uncle Shep who lived in Chicago, but his number was unlisted
(unlike the last time I was stranded in Chicago - what is it about Chicago?)
So I tried calling my mom, my grandmother in DC, and my sister, none of whom
were home, just to get my uncle's number. So I got back into line at United,
with little hope, and when I got to the front of the line the girl told me
what I had already heard. But maybe she saw the despair on my face- she
checked the compuer anyway, and someone had just cancelled their reservation,
so she gave it to me- in front of the 30-some other standbys. I didn't feel
the least-bit guilty- just very grateful and lucky. Again, there was no box
for my bike, but I watched as the luggage handlers took my bike like a pet and
stowed it on the plane.
Winging across the Atlantic, I got to see "The Red Shoes". A final treat on
the trip.
Badlands, SD 
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