Grey Nomads

A. Richardson John

Description

While most of us just dream of packing up and heading off into the sunset, experienced travellers John and Jane Richardson pulled on their rucksacks and lived the dream during a life-changing eight months exploring America, Australia and Malaysia. This is not a hurried dash from country to country, John and Jane are 'Grey Nomads', mature travellers wanting to shop, cook and understand the people and communities they interact with during their journeys. Keen to use as many forms of transport as possible, they undertook two great train adventures; a memorable twenty three hours on the Californian Zephyr across America and the fascinating jungle railway through the centre of Malaysia to the Islamic state of Kelantan on the border with Thailand. From encounters with bears and wolves in Yellowstone Park, to Queensland's worst ever floods - they take the time to understand the people they met and the places they've visited. Full of stories, sometimes amusing, sometimes serious, The Grey Nomads is an enchanting travelogue of life on the road for two mature travellers.

Sujets

• Travel writing

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783069897
• Langue: English

Extrait

JOHN A. RICHARDSON
the
grey
nomads
two lives
eight months
a thousand experiences
Copyright 2013 John A. Richardson
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
Matador 9
Priory Business Park
Kibworth Beauchamp
Leicestershire LE8 0RX, UK
Tel: ( 44) 116 279 2299
Fax: ( 44) 116 279 2277
Email: [e-mail]
Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador
ISBN 9781783069897

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
Acknowledgements
Grateful thanks to my editor John Chilvers who s encouragement and support helped to produce this book; to the magnificent seven relatives and neighbours, David and Trish Hicks, John and Alex Chilvers, Helen Richardson and Phil Swindell, who collectively nursed our house through one of the U.K. s coldest winters and postal secretary Muriel Chilvers for methodically sorting our mail.
Thanks also to the many people we met during our eight month adventure who inspired me to write this book and made travelling such a wonderful experience.
Prologue
Tickets, please
Oh no. They re on the train. I didn t think we would need them, shouted Jane, keeper of our travel documents, travelling companion (and wife) for the next eight months.
I must have your tickets.
Jane heaved her rucksack off her back, dropping it and her suitcase at my feet.
Wait there, she ordered, and ran along the platform, disappearing to the distant carriage that we had left a few minutes earlier.
I watched as my fellow passengers on the 10.30 am from Norwich to Liverpool Street avoided colliding with our five pieces of baggage, handed in their tickets and left the platform.
The ticket collector and I waited as Jane emerged from the distant carriage and sprinted back along the platform, waving something in her right hand which, I assumed, were the lost tickets.
Where have you travelled from? asked the ticket collector.
Norwich, I replied.
Oh, that s OK. You can go through, he said, satisfied we were not trying to avoid paying for our journey.
Breathing heavily, Jane completed her hundred metre sprint with a huge smile, grasping the tickets.
I ve got them, I ve got them, just managed to grab them before the cleaner, she said, relieved we would not be paying again for the journey.
That s OK. He doesn t want them now, I said pulling my rucksack onto my back.
Impressively, Jane avoided making a rude comment to the smiling ticket collector (and to me ).
The first leg of our round the world trip had been completed successfully.

Our twenty-five years of independent travelling apprenticeship served, we were about to live our dream - eight months travelling the world. Two enjoyable years of planning: nights and weekends deciding which countries to visit, how to incorporate different modes of transport, which mountains and deserts to experience. We wanted more than to just pass through our selected countries; our aim was to talk to as many people as possible, experience different ways of living, understand unfamiliar customs and religions.
Yellowstone - we must spend some time there, said Jane enthusiastically, as we watched a television programme about the world s first national park. The Californian Zephyr rail journey from Denver to Chicago was my suggestion, after researching the excellent website about train travel - The Man in Seat 61 . My interest in jazz and blues made a week s stay in Chicago essential. We had agreed to visit The White House and Capitol Hill in Washington DC, to learn about the United States system of government, to stay in the towns of the Eastern seaboard, to drive along The Blue Ridge Parkway through the Shenandoah National Park , and, once again, to experience the unique culture of Las Vegas before flying to Australia.
We planned to spend four months in Australia: Ayers Rock, The Great Barrier Reef, Sydney, Kakadu and Daintree national parks were essential to our itinerary, although Jane was unsure that two weeks in a four wheel drive camper, travelling from Darwin in the Northern Territories to Ayers Rock, via the Australian outback, was quite the experience that a sixty-one year old, or even someone of her comparatively youthful age of fifty-four, should be attempting However, after some persuasion and reassurance, she agreed, subject to our outback adventure being followed by spending three months in relative comfort travelling down Australia s east coast.
Having chosen to visit two new world countries, we had decided that Asia would provide us with a real contrast. On previous occasions we had been to China, India and Thailand so, encouraged by the description of a railway journey through the Malaysian jungle by The Man in Seat 61 , we had agreed that Malaysia and Singapore would be our final destinations.

Having breached the ticket barrier at Liverpool Street, we realised that it was less than thirty-six hours before we would be in Denver. Two years of planning and preparation would start to unfold.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
Epilogue
C HAPTER 1
The softly-spoken lady from Denver
Take your time with the Trail Ridge Road. You ll remember it for the rest of your lives; it s beautiful, said the softly-spoken, middle-aged lady from Denver sitting next to Jane on the plane. She was returning home from a tour of Europe with her husband. We were interested to discover her opinion of the places in and around Denver we should visit, and it was pleasing that our research matched her views.
The bus from the airport to downtown Denver arrived at the terminal building. The driver, who was at least seventy years old, lifted the side panels of the bus and loaded our baggage into the hold with a level of energy that would have done credit to a man half his age.
Are you over sixty-five, sir? he asked, as I offered him the 20 fare.
Er No. I m only sixty-one, I mumbled. Do I really look over sixty-five, I thought? I probably did look haggard after the flight.
If you re over sixty-five, you get half-fare, he said, so enthusiastically that I almost wished I was
The driver carried out all his duties with great enthusiasm. At each stop he stood by the side of the bus and shouted, Any more for downtown Denver? To passengers who looked remotely near sixty, are you over sixty-five? If you are, you get half-fare.
Leaving the bus, we found the free tram that runs through the centre of downtown Denver along the 16 th Street Mall, a mile of busy shops and all types of restaurants. We watched from the packed tram as the Saturday night crowds enjoyed the warmth of the evening, just beginning to cool after daytime temperatures had reached 33 degrees C.
As she tried to manoeuvre her suitcase, Jane collided with a polite young American who apologised for blocking the gangway.
Where are you from? he asked.
England, said Jane, trying to retain her balance as the tram lurched forward and gathered speed.
He explained that he had lived in London when his father had been an ambassador. He didn t specify the country, but he looked of Middle Eastern origin. He claimed to be a big soccer fan, Man United and the Arsenal (obviously didn t know a lot about football ) and was disappointed with England s performance at the World Cup. We were discussing American politics and the state of the economy as the tram stopped to unload its passengers.
Where are you staying? he asked.
The Comfort Inn, I replied.
You need to leave the tram here, or you ll have a long walk back, said our helpful American Man. United supporter.
Hold on pal, he called to the driver as the tram was about to pull away. The driver, who had been party to our conversation, stopped the tram, laughed and waved as we struggled off the tram with our bags to find the hotel.
You re doing what? The receptionist looked amazed as we checked into our downtown Denver hotel.
An eight-month round the world trip, I repeated.
The second receptionist looked up from her paperwork and, almost in unison, they exclaimed, Wow
Must be the training, I thought. Jane and I gave them the shortened version of our plans.
Wow they repeated. What time did you leave the UK?
It s now 9 o clock here, so it s My ability to add seven hours to nine had disappeared. It would be four or five in the morning in the UK so we must have My voice trailed away.
Sensing my struggle with tiredness, the well-trained receptionist completed the formalities of check-in. I feel kinda privileged that we are your first place to visit.
We feel very privileged to be staying at such a nice hotel with such friendly staff, I replied. I so very nearly said, gee, thanks, but resisted the temptation. We were off to bed.
16 th Street Mall, where our hotel was situated, marks out Denver as a vibrant, 24-hour city. By day, tourists and office workers take their lunch-breaks at the pavement cafes. At night, as well as the busy bars and restaurants, buskers entertain the tourists, many making use of the old pianos tha