The Travels of Dave: A long way to go for a pint

Hey everybody,

Wow... it's been a while. A lot has happened the last few years but rather than bore you with the whole story I figured I'd call upon my old pal ChatGPT to help summarize it using the personality of a southern gentleman named "The Colonel."

Well now, gather ‘round, y’all, and let ol’ Colonel spin ya a yarn about Dave’s last couple o’ years—a stretch o’ time so full o’ twists and turns it’d make a Mississippi riverboat look like it’s sittin’ still. I do declare, it all kicked off with Dave hittin’ the big five-oh, and he didn’t let that milestone sneak by like a fox in the henhouse. No sir! He had a birthday shindig so grand, the echoes of laughter are probably still bouncin’ ‘round the rafters. Not long after, he moseyed down to Guatemala for his cousin Andrea’s wedding—a celebration finer than sweet tea on a summer porch—only to find himself in a showdown with a case of food poisoning so ferocious it near bout’ knocked him clean off his feet and left him with a hernia as a parting gift. What in tarnation, indeed!

But Dave’s tale ain’t all bellyaches and bedpans. Last year found him under the warm Thai sun, standin’ shoulder to shoulder with dear friends he’d made two decades prior when they built homes for tsunami survivors. It was a reunion of hearts and history, like findin’ a long-lost tune and hummin’ it in harmony once more. And this past year? Well now, suffice it to say, life’s winds done shifted mighty strong. Through a painful but mighty important change, Dave’s chartin’ a brand-new course, and wouldn’t ya know it, the horizon’s lookin’ brighter than sunrise on a rooster’s comb.

Why I do declare that ChatGPT did a mighty fine job with that summation! Time for a mint julep! But enough about that... let's get to the traveling.

As you may know I have a personal goal to travel to at least one new country every year and this year that country was Wales. Why Wales you may ask? First off, their flag has a fucking dragon on it! That should be reason enough but in case you need more a) they have castles, b) the Welsh language is impenetrably weird yet strangely melodious, c) my buddy Mark, who lives in Liverpool, offered to play tour guide and d) my love for British beer is well-documented. No finer libation has yet been created than a proper pint of Timothy Taylor's Landlord.

The tour started in Liverpool: Home of the Beatles, league champions Liverpool football club and scouse. My buddy Rich flew out from Toronto and met up with us as well, and Mark took us on a whirlwind one-day tour of his home town. We walked along Crosby beach to see a load of smoothed bricks from buildings bombed in World War II, a windmill farm out in the sea, and a bunch of naked iron statues of Antony Gormley. We strolled along the Wirral promenade and stopped at a few of Mark's favorite pubs every couple of hours. Ok maybe it was more like every hour.

The next day we drove to Ambleside in the Lake District for a couple of days of scenic hikes (and country pubs). I first read about the Lake District in a book by Alain DeBotton that talked about it as a beautiful holiday destination and after visiting I have to concur. There are loads of... well... lakes... in the district with multiple walking paths and roads linking the multiple villages in the region (there are 18 YHA hostels in the Lake District alone!). With Ambleside as our base we hiked to Grasmere on the first day where we met up with Lee who had driven over from Derbyshire. The walks are well-marked and not particularly strenuous and they take you along various hilltops with views of lakes wherever you go. Rock walls and brambles surround you as you and occasionally you'll even find a small lake or pond on a hilltop all for yourself. Mark took us to The Black Bull Inn in Coniston; one of his favorite pubs and home of the fantastic Bluebird Bitter. The second day we hiked toward Langdale and ended up at the Old Dungeon Ghyll pub where I had a magical steak and ale pie. We drove to Keswick to visit the Castlerigg stone circle: a neolithic megalith with fantastic views of the surrounding countryside. Nowadays it seems like these views are mostly enjoyed by herds of sheep who like to leave lots of gifts for visitors making it impossible for you to leave with your shoes unscathed. In two days we only managed to scratch the surface of the hikes and beautiful views you can experience in the Lake District. I can see why it's such a popular destination and I can only imagine the nightmarish hellscape it turns into during high season with these tiny villages and one-lane roads.

We headed to Lee and Anna's place in Belper for the next couple of days and on the way I had a transcendent experience thanks to Gail's bakery in Buxton... namely the best sausage roll I've ever eaten. It was life-changing. Juicy, crunchy, herb-filled. It was the last sausage roll in the bakery so I can only believe it was my destiny to partake of its goodness. I will long for this sausage roll in the years to come. I ask you this my friends: Is it better to have sausage rolled and lost, or never to have sausage rolled at all?

We visited Eyam village which, in the 17th century, completely isolated itself in order to prevent spreading the bubonic plague. We visited Nottingham, home of Robin Hood and the oldest pub in England (Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem from 1189). We toured the Criminal Justice Museum where we beheld a mock 18th century trial, viewed some truly horrific implements of torture/imprisonment and wondered how the hell you provide each prisoner one pound of meat per day on the journey to Australia. We enjoyed a fantastic pint of Landlord at the Six Barrel drafthouse. And we, of course, engaged in only the highest levels of discourse including gems like "Enough with the ruins Mark... let's limit the culture to 5 minutes a day tops" or Lee's "Don't get in a fight if you aren't prepared to bite someone."

And now we come to Wales. At least once a year Mark meets a crew of friends (Kristy, Jo, Sara, Isabel, Fran, Jo and Simon) that he knows from nursing and they pick a destination in the UK, rent a bunkhouse and spend a weekend hiking and hanging out. Lucky for me they chose Wales this year and, more specifically, the Gower peninsula in the southwest. Everyone brought food and drinks to share and couldn't be friendlier. We hiked along the stark and scenic coastline of Rhossili beach and on the second day from Worm's head along the southern cliffs. It's one of those "I'm at the end of the world" type locations where not only are you looking out to an endless ocean but you also know that there's nothing to the west until Ireland and southwest you'd have to go all the way to Cuba until you hit land. The UK is extremely hiker-friendly with well-marked walking trails and a "right of way" system where even if the trails go through farmland they need to be maintained. One important note about southwest Wales that I did not realize is that it has fairly severe weather swings. I *thought* I was prepared for it, but when you're in a t-shirt under clear sky one minute then the next minute bucketfuls of rain are coming at you horizontally shortly followed by hail that can come as a shock. It was like that scene from Caddyshack where Carl says "I'd keep playing. I don't think the heavy stuff is gonna come down for quite a while." I finally understood why our bunkhouse had a "drying room."

Despite only having known me for a couple of days, Jo was kind enough to let Mark and I stay at her house in Bristol after we left the Welsh coast. Bristol feels like one of those cities that's very livable, with loads of street art and murals, architecture, history, a good restaurant/bar scene and university vibes. We crossed the Clifton suspension bridge designed by Brunel, walked along the harborfront and saw the SS Great Britain also designed by Brunel, saw loads of street art, went in a church, drank beer and ate shwarma. After Bristol we stopped at Ludlow which has a nice church and a good brewery but honestly we need to talk about the hot roast pork sandwich I got there. It had to be easily a full pound of pork plus stuffing plus applesauce plus crackling. I never thought it was possible to suffer from pork overload but I can tell you that I did not eat anything for the next 24 hours. From Ludlow it was on to Shrewsbury for the night.

The next morning we were off to north Wales. On the way we stopped to go for a hike up to the neolithic Wrekin hill fort. The hike through the forest was long and steep, and at the end you really have to use your imagination because all you can see are dirt mounds. It's a spectacular 360-degree view, though, and it's easy to understand why people from a few thousand years ago would have wanted to build a fort in that location. Plus we needed at least some daily exercise to offset the pints. From there we were back in Wales for a quick visit to the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct which is a world heritage site. My understanding is that it's one of the first major feats of civil engineering of the industrial age that involved building an acqueduct out of iron to create a waterway all across a valley. When it was built it was used to transport goods but now the canal boats are mainly used for tours. You can cross the acqueduct on foot and have amazing views of the surrounding valley, and you get a first-hand look at the kind of traffic jam that can happen when an acqueduct has only room for one canal boat.

Conwy Castle

Our destination was Conwy for a couple of nights but before arriving there we had to stop in Llangollen to sample the culinary delight of the Welsh Oggie. Apparently there is a rivalry between the Oggie and the Cornish Pastie, but the winner in this contest is my stomach. Flaky pastry filled with wild game and potatoes... there is no way that can go wrong. From there we stayed a couple of nights in Conwy where there is a world heritage castle that was built by Edward the first (the bad guy from Braveheart!) during his conquest of Wales. The castle is in remarkably good shape and you can walk along its walls and scale the towers. It's positioned strategically right on a river so the only way to siege it is by boat or through the main barbican. Even though it cost a fortune to build, it didn't see much use by Edward or subsequent kings. We drove up near Mt. Snowdon and had a pint in an in where Edmund Hillary stayed when he was training to climb Mt. Everest. We visited the Bryn Celli Du neolithic burial mound. Mark once again pointed out sites of "pivotal battles" which was a recurring theme during the trip, though to be fair all battles are pivotal to the loser. Honestly Conwy would've been worth a visit just for pints at the Albion Inn where they serve Purple Moose on cask heh heh.

And now we come to Man Camp. Mark made me change my flight just so I wouldn't miss out on this yearly gathering of reprobates and degenerates. This may surprise some of you that have met Mark... you think he's kind, generous, innocent... well nothing could be further from the truth. It's well known among our tight friend circle that Mark may, in fact, be a serial killer. When Mark bought his new station wagon one of his mates asked him if it had good drainage. Now you understand why I had to sleep with one eye open the entire trip. But back to Man Camp. I think it was curiosity that made me agree to stay because all I knew was the title and Mark was really evasive about everything else. I asked him who was going to be there and he said Elvis, Bertie, Johnny Cash and The Captain among others. Every once in a while he'd throw out some ominous anecdote about shenanigans that had occurred at previous Man Camps which brought to mind visions of sweaty drunk, shirtless men unleashing primal screams so I had to be clear with Mark: No circle jerks. We can hang out in a square, or a triangle, a parallelogram or shit even a rhombus but if I see anyone starting to form a circle I'm making for the hills.

It turns out my concerns were unwarranted. We met the crew at Ironbridge which is known for (duh) an iron bridge that was one of the heralds of the beginning of the industrial revolution. A few of the fellas were already cracking open cans of Stella at 10am but we walked it off over the next 6 hours and 11 miles. It was a beautiful hike through forest, up hillsides and along farmland. The guys couldn't have been friendlier or more quick-witted. The afternoon turned into an evening at the pub with just a bunch of middle-aged guys drinking beer and bonding over pop culture references and music from the 80s and 90s. I did hear that Johnny Cash threw up in the car the next morning though so the legend of Man Camp continues!

Which brings me to the end of my trip. What can I say about Mark? I hope everyone realizes that I don't really think he's a serial killer (at least that's what I'm going to tell the judge if I'm ever called as a witness). He drove us across 1200 miles in western England and Wales on a journey that he planned himself. Mark's knowledge of British history and archaeology gave life and color to every site we visited. He incorporated me into two of his friend groups. I never felt bored or annoyed, and we could easily have conversations for hours or even slip into comfortable silence for a while (like Mia Wallace and Vincent Vega). I'm lucky to have him as a friend.

A few postscripts:

We drove over 1200 miles
We averaged over 8 miles walking per day
We averaged 5-6 pints per day
Why do so many British women dye their hair that burgundy color? No one could give me an answer.
British food gets a bad rap. You can survive on beer and baked goods no problem.