Adventures in Europe - Part 2

Saturday Afternoon

I’d only been back at the gate for a few minutes when we learned that yes, our flight was officially cancelled. We were to collect our previously-checked bags and head back to the main terminal to see about re-booking our flights. Carousel 2 was where they were supposed to come off. At least, that’s what the man said. And for pretty much everyone on the flight, that was the case. Not me though. My bag had apparently made it further than I had and wherever it was now, it wasn’t on carousel 2.

“Lost luggage, over there” said the harried looking airport official pointing to a heart-sinkingly long line snaking around the baggage claim hall. In the 45-minutes I stood in it before having to leave for the bathroom the line moved no further forward. Not...one...step. I might still be standing in it now, but as I re-joined it (significantly further back than where I left it) I happened to glance over at carousel 2 and was overjoyed to spot my suitcase, wending its lonely way round and around the conveyor belt. It took a while, but it finally got back to me.

If I thought the line at lost luggage was long though, it was nothing compared to the one at the British Airways counter where every man and his dog was attempting to find a seat on any upcoming flights. At least I wasn’t flying KLM. They had 6 lines open and I would estimate they were each about 400 yards long. At least. And they were moving even slower than our breathtaking pace, which I measured as 20 feet in 4 hours.

Now as you know, I have many fine qualities but patience has never been one of them. To my credit though, I remained remarkably calm despite the claustrophobia and the molasses-like movement of the line, as did most of my fellow queue-ees. We chatted, swapped travel stories, bitched and moaned cheerfully and at least one couple became so friendly, I suspect they’d be able to save the cost of one hotel room tonight. Over in the KLM line though, things weren’t quite so Zen. Children screamed, old folks threatened to keel over in the stifling heat, tempers and voices were raised and the poor airport staff, who of course could do nothing, must have wished they’d thought to call in sick today.

Either way, it was really something of a relief when around 6pm, a British Airways employee came along the line to advise us that not only did we have no hope of reaching the front of the queue before the desk closed at 9pm, there were no available flights anyway. Not today, not tomorrow, not Monday. Nothing until Tuesday. Which was no use to me because my flight home from Glasgow was early on Tuesday morning. And of course, there was no guarantee I would get a seat on any of Tuesday’s flights either. 3 days before Christmas there weren’t going to be that many seats available and 60,000 other people were hoping to bag one in addition to me. I was starting to wonder if I was going to be spending the holidays in Amsterdam after all.

Adventures in Europe - Part 1

Saturday morning:

Sleeping in is rarely a good way to start the day. Especially when you need to be up way earlier than your body wishes you to be. In my defense though, it wasn’t my fault this time. The hotel receptionist had taken my request for a wake-up call in person the night before, but for some reason it hadn’t made it to the clerk responsible for handling them in the morning. Which was a problem because I had an early flight scheduled out of Schiphol airport in Amsterdam and the shuttle was supposed to have picked me up 10 minutes ago.

So as I threw my stuff into my bag and pulled on the clothes I was wearing yesterday, I wondered how come, even if the reception desk had neglected to wake me as promised, they hadn’t at least called my room to let me know the shuttle had arrived. I soon learned the answer to that one. The shuttle hadn’t arrived. The winter storm which had brought Amsterdam to an almost complete standstill had been enough to cause the cancellation of the shuttle service. Something which would have been nice to know a little earlier than 30 minutes after I needed to leave for the airport.

Fortunately, at least some of the city’s taxis were still running and we were soon on our way through the near deserted streets. The snow and ice blanketing the city leant an air of peace and tranquility to the scene. With the absence of motorized traffic and Amsterdam’s picturesque architecture serving as a backdrop for this winter wonderland, one could be forgiven for thinking that we’d been transported back to a simpler, gentler time.

But then we arrived at the airport.

Apparently the entire population of Europe was attempting to leave from Schiphol Airport this morning and few were succeeding. The press of bodies was claustrophobic and knowing that I was by now, disturbingly short of time, I tried not to panic as I elbowed my way through the throng. I haven’t yet made it to Calcutta but I’ve seen footage of the melees which occur at the railway station and I suspect the experience is something like this. It was very frustrating to be able to see where I wanted to be but be physically unable to get there.

I needn’t have worried. When I eventually reached the gate, it was to learn that like many others, my flight wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Unlike some of the others though, our problem wasn’t getting out of Amsterdam, but landing in London, which was dealing with the same winter storm, apparently with even less success than Amsterdam. I didn’t even want to go to London; I just happened to be connecting through there on my way to Glasgow, where I planned to spend a couple of days with me dear ol’ Ma before heading home to the States.

“What I’m going to do is take you off this flight.” Said the jug-eared child in the uniform of an airline employee. “You can book a new flight at the British Airways desk.”
“But wait,” I responded “What if there isn’t another flight? I’ll just be stuck here then, won’t I?”
“No flights are leaving Gatwick, so you’d be no better off even if you got there, you’d still be stuck.”

Now I knew that if the entire airport was anything like the rugby scrum I’d just fought my way through, and I suspected it was, then the odds of me getting a seat on another flight were slim to anorexic. And I most certainly wasn’t going to willingly give up my confirmed seat on an existing flight, however unlikely it might be to get off the ground.

“I’ll take my chances, thanks.” I told him, and settled down with my book.

After a little while, the captain came and stood on a chair to address us. He seemed like a kindly soul but even he had no idea whether or not we’d be leaving today. Not the first time he came up. Or the second. Or even the third, although by now, even the slowest among us had figured out that we wouldn’t be dining on airline pretzels today.

For a while, it looked as though we might not be dining on anything, but finally the airline admitted that we could leave the gate for a while and I headed for one of Schiphol airport’s dining establishments to ease my rumbling tum. You know what really goes down a treat when you’ve been up for way too long and are expecting your flight to be cancelled? A nice, frosty mug of beer, that’s what. Not that I was going to be enjoying any though.

“They just made an announcement 30 minutes ago.” The waitress told me. “No alcohol sales within the airport for the rest of the day.”
“What?” I bleated, “This is exactly when we need it!”
“No, some people have been here since Wednesday and apparently some of them are getting violent. So, no alcohol, sorry.”

Oh, the humanity.

The Falkirk Wheel

In case you haven't figured this out already, I post links to YouTube when I can't think of anything about which to write. Sorry, but I really do lead a dull life.

Anyway, the Scottish football season ended last week and my team, Falkirk FC managed to avoid relegation from the Scottish Premier League by the skin of their teeth. You might think I'm setting my goals rather low if that's something to celebrate but if you'd seen their position in the league table just a few weeks ago, it's nothing short of miraculous. Even better, in the last game of the year, they played the league champions off the field in the Scottish Cup Final before valiantly, albeit predictably, getting beaten.

So, in honor of Falkirk Football Club, here's a video of Falkirk's most famous (OK, pretty much only) local landmark, The Falkirk Wheel.

The what? Well, it's the world's largest boat lift and it allows boats to be hoisted from a canal to another 24 metres (79 ft) above it. This is roughly equivalent to the height of an eight story building. Wikipedia explains it better than I can.

The Falkirk Wheel

So here's the thing in action. It's a very, very cool piece of engineering.

The Colorado Trail ~ Day 6

Kenosha Pass to Jefferson Creek Road
Distance: 6 miles
Elevation Gain: ? ft


Just realized, I never came back to add the update. Once again, I was struck by the the Colorado Trail jinx and I'm not much further along the trail than I was before.

This is my 4th attempt at this stretch, but the first time I've actually made it onto the trail. As it's 33 miles, I figure 3 days, so previously, I've taken a Friday off with the intention of knocking it out over a weekend. Each time I did this, a storm would blow in and either during or right before the planned hike. I'm not an experienced enough winter hiker to even want to attempt that (it isn't simple wimpy-ness, it's dangerous) so I've ended up given it a miss.

For the last 2 months though, other than some wet, cold weekends the winter has been glorious and I figured any remaining snow would be above tree line and easily navigable. I didn't want to wait 'too' long or we'd end up with the brain-baking temperatures I experienced last time. So, as I had a whole week off, I figured I could fool Ma Nature into thinking I was at work and she'd send us some decent weather. I decided to make a 4 day trip out of it, with a shorter first day so that I could camp part way up the biggest hill of the hike, rather than attempting to get over it one go. After a picnic lunch at the trail head, away I went.

And you know what? I felt darn good. I haven't done any long hikes since The World's Most Irritating Dog™ hurt her foot and I was a bit worried about my conditioning but no problems at all. Sure, my pack felt heavy but there was none of that screaming agony ohmydoGIcan'ttakeanotherstep pain of 2007 and I was averaging almost 3 miles an hour which will do me fine. Took a break at around 3:30pm and began the climb up Georgia Pass (2,000 feet of altitude gain over 6 miles taking me almost to 12.000 feet above sea level), which I had been dreading but at this point was feeling so good that I was even wondering if I could pass my day's goal of 9 total miles and continue over the top after all. The only thing that was really holding me back was the late start (this was going to be a short day, remember?).

But then I hit the snow. While still in the trees. Completely covering the trail to the point where I couldn't see where it went. I floundered around for about an hour, often sinking up to me crotch (quite an experience in shorts, even on a hot day) before finally conceding defeat and heading back down. There were plenty of awesome places to camp for the night and the next day, I'd be able to hike back to the highway (about 6 miles away by dirt road) and call for a ride home. But then I figured I could make other plans for my week off and it might be easier if I got home sooner rather than later. So, I ended up at home late that night.

Altogether, about 14 miles hiked, although without too much altitude gain and the following morning my shoulders, legs and feet were a little tender. But not bad really. If I were still on the trail, I think I could have hiked a fair bit again. Looks like the winter hikes, and the irregular trips to the gym have done some good after all. I'm confident I can knock off the remainder of this segment in 2 days, especially if say, I do the 3 miles to my planned camp on a Friday evening after work. I just need to find the convenient window of weather and do it then.

It's going to be a piece of cake.