I am still learning about the way the trains work here. It seems I might never fully "get comfortable" with it all. When I was checking the National Rail website the day before it was saying the route for the 6.36 train was through London rather than through Reading and Redhill the way I usually go. I decided to leave on the earlier train... just to be on the safe side...
My day began earlier than planned... I had woken up at 3.30 and had not been able to get back to sleep.
I caught the 6.06 Monday, purchasing my ticket en route from the conductor, who assured me that I could go the way I usually did, and the ticket was in fact, the cheaper of the two. Oh goodie!!
Leaving earlier gave me time in Reading to get a soy chai latte, (which always reminds me of my friend Rhonda) and warm croissant packing some kind of protein punch. It was nice to have some extra time so that I could sit and eat before traveling. It was quite a chilly morning though… and the Reading station, while it is a very large building with walls and the like, it is open to the outside where all the platforms are located for the trains to park… so, if it is cold outside… it is cold inside. That said, I did sit down at a table, but didn’t waste any time eating my croissant.
So far, all the pictures I’ve taken from a moving train have not really turned out all that great… I will keep trying. But, I did write down a few snippets along the way, from Reading to Redhill… which may or may not seem all that interesting to you.
To me, even the names of the villages are interesting. I might have mentioned the train traveling through countryside that reminded me very much of Vermont… that is true for certain parts of the journey, particularly closer to Redhill… but we also pass through the residential areas of several small hamlets and villages, sometimes very close to homes. Other times, we travel through the industrial areas of bigger cities.
Wokingham… trying to extricate my journal from my backpack… everything is really packed in. I’ve got my rain pants and coat… extra shirt… extra socks… baseball cap… work gloves… mittens… my lunch… water bottle… torch (flashlight) a book (The Woodland House by Ben Law) and finally, my journal.
Crowthorne… my pen…. good grief… ok, now I’m ready. In my defense, I was doing all that digging with my backpack in my lap while trying to hold the remainder of my latte between my knees… so, it took a bit of concentration…and, it was still a little too dark to see too much outside the train anyway... looking out the window all I could see were reflections of myself and everyone on the other side of the train.
Sandhurst… The Village Inn, looks like a nice pub!
Blackwater… huge water treatment looking place.
Farnborough North…
North Camp…
Ash… beautiful, stately tree silhouettes against the pink of the early morning sky.
Guildford… ponds… heavy frost… white stucco house with 2 greenhouses… train track city… home of the University of Surrey… 2 tunnely things…
Shalford… hillside allotments (community gardens)… lots of airplanes in the air, I counted five at that particular moment (I think we were near Gatwick airport)…
Chilworth… new apartment building under construction, with its corner about 10 feet from the train… very, very frosty… hilly open field with one very large tree felled along the woodland edge. This tree has been there since my first ride by a month earlier… someone had cut and removed all the branches between last week and now.
Gomshall… beautiful little hamlet with homes of white stucco and thatched roofs just before the station… huge field of FROZEN rapeseed… huge area of hillside allotments… outskirts of the city... stacks of crushed cars….
Dorking West… school kids get on (like, secondary school aged) and the noise level goes up several decibels… hilly… herd of beef cattle, mixed breeds including belted Galloways… sheer white cliffs yes, chalk cliffs like ‘the white cliffs of Dover’…
Betchworth… it is 8.20 am… gates across the road to let the train pass and a very long queue of cars waiting… fields and long range views… sheared hedges act as fences dividing fields…
Reigate… school kids get off… ivy on buildings (like what we have in the US as houseplants) still thriving despite frosty temps… four trees directly along the back of the platform have been pollarded and so look like ivy covered columns…
Redhill… city… highrises and all…
We had a great day of work in Bushy Wood, me, feeling a little more confident with the bilhook. I also had my first experience with a Kelly Kettle... probably Trish or Cathy and Ken who do tons of camping would laugh at how proud of myself I was too.
The days work done, I caught a ride partway with Nick. It was nice to have conversation with someone... not something I usually get to enjoy on the train.
He dropped me off at the station in his hometown, which seemed like it should be fine... I would simply catch the next train to Guildford and continue on my usual route from there...
Simple is defined as "Not involved or complicated; easy". Well this turned out to be anything but... No Staples 'That was easy' button for me.
I had just missed the train I needed, and long story short - because the trains run less frequently at night - the delay at each subsequent station got longer... and longer... and longer.
By the time I got to Twyford, it was 9pm. I had a wait of nearly an hour. Sitting on a metal bench. Outside. By myself. Hungry. Cold.
We had left Bore Place at 5pm... and I usually arrive in Henley at 8.20...
Ya live and learn I guess...
Normally, I tend to like getting my ducks all in a row, being a planner by nature. So, it's good to shake things up a bit and do things on the spur of the moment sometimes... Even if you do end up sitting all by yourself on a metal bench...in the cold... dreaming of a warm home and dinner.
Having plenty of time on my hands, I contemplated how many people there are in the world that end up on a cold bench every night dreaming of a warm home and dinner, because they are homeless... and concluded that I have it made in the shade.
I was thankful that John had lent me his copy of Trees and Woodlands in the British Landscape by Oliver Rackham. Nothing like a good book to take you away from reality... and that came in handy right about then!
love-
susie
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