Day 4: Travel Day
Nau mai
Yesterday we travelled from Dublin to Manchester.
The primary goal for the day was to make it to Manchester. This was achieved through careful planning and precise execution.
Tristan and I had a secondary goal which was to eat a good, healthy breakfast, and so we set out again to Tang, our favourite spot, the place with the highest rating of Google stars, soon to be the only restaurant to earn the coveted Breakfast and Travel Award for triple attendance. I ordered the homemade nutty granola with yoghurt, pear, blackberries, honey, and peanut butter.
At 1pm we said goodbye to our hotel rooms and piled into the back of our vehicle, a sleek and professional looking MAN TGE Panel Van painted in a glossy shade of what might be called Gunmetal Grey, or Sharkfin Grey, or Battleship Grey, depending on the level of aggression you wanted to convey. We had six comfortable seats in the back, a good size cargo compartment, and a cute little trailer to accommodate the sizeable amount of equipment and merch we would be carting around.
The weather was beginning to pack in as we drove up the ramp of our fine ship, the Ro-Pax ferry Stena Estrid, an impressive 215 metre vessel with “Scandinavian inspired interiors”, free movie lounges, and a duty free shop that seemed to take up most of the passenger deck. We had spent a good couple of hours trapped in the van as we waited to clear customs and it was nice to take a walk up into the open air and stretch our legs on the ship’s generous sundeck as we were expertly piloted out of our berth, the captain doing an expert job of reversing around a corner at a speed that looked perilous to our untrained eyes.
The views up towards Dublin’s city centre were handsome but soon replaced by an opaque grey in every direction as we left the coastline behind. We headed below decks and settled down in the comfort of the atrium (Scandinavian interior) to pass the next four hours. Luckily the rain had not brought with it much wind or swell and the voyage was calm and comfortable. Perhaps the stormiest element of the crossing was the regular belching and burping from the group of truck drivers that were rapidly disappearing pints of ciders at the table next to us.
Holyhead emerged as a few amber lights struggling to break through the fog, the shadow of the headland gradually coming into view as we drew into this sleepy port on the Isle of Anglesey, the northwestern tip of Wales. The customs officers were relaxed, and we were on our way before long, beginning our 200km journey to Manchester, a relaxed drive along the A55 North Wales Expressway, a road that was smooth and quiet at this late hour of the evening. At midnight we arrived at our lodgings, tired from a day of sitting, and relieved at the prospect of lying down.
