Shundo David Haye – Zen Priest

We have had quite the adventure so far on our travels. We have been in four different time zones in this first week, so I really don’t have a firm sense of the time.

Our trip started very early on Saturday morning with a ride to the airport in a car redolent with artificial fragrance – I assumed the driver was trying to cover up the smell of cigarettes. SFO was surprisingly busy for the pre-dawn hour, it being a holiday weekend. 

Apart from turbulence over the Sierras, our flights to Florida went smoothly, and we arrived as it got dark for a couple of peaceful days with Ruth’s family. It was my first time meeting her younger brother and his wife, Ruth’s niece, nephew and sister-in-law.

A friend we are going to visit in Belfast joked that Florida would be good preparation for being over in Ireland, but it was grey and rainy on the Sunday, and Monday started out close to freezing, so he was unintentionally right.

We had rented a car to drive down to Orlando, and that all went well; the airport was full of pom-poms, making me wonder if there had been a cheerleader convention. Finding vegetarian food at the terminal was a challenge though.

At the end of Monday afternoon, we left Orlando about half an hour late, not something that was going to cause us any problems. About half way through the flight, the captain came on the intercom to say that we were diverting to St John’s Newfoundland due to a passenger having a medical emergency, that being the last airport we could stop at before we started crossing the Atlantic.

It was probably close to midnight local time when we landed; the person was taken off, then we were told that they needed a new flight plan and de-icing, so that was another hour or so sitting on the plane. We eventually taxied off, but then the pilot aborted the take off as there was an electrical issue. 

We went back to the gate so we could disembark, but then the airport couldn’t get the gangway connected, so we waited another little while before we could all get off down some stairs with a fierce arctic wind blowing. There were three border officials, presumably dragged out of bed to process all the landing cards which had been handed out. Then we were herded onto various coaches, again, somehow summoned in the middle of the night, for a drive into town to the Marriott, and another hour queuing while the overnight staff checked us all in. We got into the room at six am, and slept for a few hours, though I was worried about missing updates. 

Various bits of paper were slipped under our door during Tuesday: the first information was that we would be collected at 4:00 am Wednesday for a flight that would get us into London Wednesday afternoon. That got superceded by the news that we would be collected at 8:30 am for an 11:30 departure and an evening arrival.

Out of the hotel window we watched flurries of snow coming and going. I had tried to find coffee outside the hotel, and discovered the biting nature of the wind. Nevertheless we went out for a walk in the afternoon, thankful that we had our warm clothes for England with us. I was surprised by the number of little shops close to the waterfront, many of which seemed to be thriving. 

We tried to get to sleep early, and failed, but at least got some rest before breakfast and a ride in a school bus through slightly heavier snow. People seemed happy to be going home, though that was sorely tested, first by being an hour late to board, and then, after the plane had been de-iced, by waiting for almost an hour on the runway while some logistical thing was being sorted out.

In the end we landed about 10:00 pm, about 40 hours late. Thanks to the Elizabeth Line, we got to our central hotel within ninety minutes of the plane landing – we had had to cancel our original booking in the town I grew up in, where we had hoped to spend Tuesday and Wednesday getting over the jet lag. 

I didn’t get to sleep until about 4:00 am local time. Luckily, we didn’t have to rush in the morning; I had chosen the hotel mainly for its proximity to the Elizabeth Line and to King’s Cross, where we were able to take our originally booked train up towards Hebden Bridge. We were incredibly grateful to be travelling a day ahead of the forecast storm that was expected to disrupt travel on Friday. Also, feeling vindicated in my firm policy of never checking a bag, as the luggage had remained on our original aircraft (we saw several passengers visiting the Dollar Store in St John’s to get some warm clothes) and were due to be couriered to people in the next day or two.

Thankfully we have cosy accommodation again, even if my sleep on Thursday night was spotty, and nothing planned except for the evening sit and talk, ahead of sitting all day on Saturday. Being in the valley meant that the fearsome winds mostly passed overhead.