We took a day trip to the Isle of Wight today.
When we first got there, all I wanted to do was go back to London. It was cold, misty, and the ferry let us off at this mile long pier that we had to cross to get to town. We walked around Ryde for a little bit, then decided we were going to go down the coast to find a few things that were on the map. We went to the train, which is an old, super slow subway train from the 1930s, and apparently we would have to pay extra even though we thought the fare was paid for in our combo tickets. So we got off at the first stop, which was this residential area, so we were basically lost. We found a bus station and waited for the bus for about a half hour. I was cranky as hell and ready to hike back to the ferry and get back to civilization.
But the bus finally came, and we rode it to Bembridge, where we walked until we found an old windmill. Then we thought we’d try to walk to the sea, because there was a sign that pointed the direction of Whitecliff Bay. Well we walked for a long time and saw no signs of the coast, so we just waited at another bus stop for around 45 minutes. Then we got on the bus and got to the bay. There was literally just one person walking her dog on this enormous beach, so naturally we frolicked. The wind was ridiculous and the air was 90% mist, but the beach was pretty from what the fog let us see. Then we went back and waited for the bus for another 45 minutes, and took it back to Ryde.
The bus routes were so ridiculously scenic. Old churches are my thing, and this island was littered with them. It was beautiful.
By then it was 8, and we got back to the ferry port and left at 8:45. Little did we know there was a dire situation back in the mainland. Apparently there was a “fatality in the Wimbledon area” so all of these trains were backed up or cancelled. The train we needed was cancelled, so we waited a little and found another train. The journey was supposed to be about an hour- it took twice as long because of the hold ups.
And when we had to transfer at Clapham Junction, EVERYONE was transferring. I’ve never been in such a packed train car, even in NYC and that’s saying something. This one guy was just talking nonstop, but he was hilarious. They were talking about the fatality and he was convinced that someone committed suicide by jumping in front of the tracks. Someone thought they might have survived the train but he was like, “At 70 miles per hour? No, mate. You’d be everywhere. Your arm over here, your leg over here. Not much left.” He was entertaining.
Now I’m back under the covers, in pajamas. A moment I’ve been longing for all day. Tomorrow’s the last full day we have here :(