Travel Graces

Maybe we notice more, when traveling, what goes wrong and what goes well. For a trip such as the one I just took, alone on a walk in England, because I packed light there was less to keep track of. A tour company had made all the lodging arrangements. For the most part I forgot about ordinary life back home. All of this freed me to pay attention to the day's steps and missteps.

My suitcase arrived with the top of the pull handle broken off and missing completely. This meant I could pull it by one of the upright bars, and fortunately it had four wheels so I could pull it without tilting, which is pretty difficult without that cross bar on the pull handle.

On the second day of walking, the rain made it impossible to walk the full distance. I opted, about a third of the way into the journey, not to return to muddy field and forest tracks (my boots, socks, and clothing were completely waterlogged) but to walk on the road. Roads in the Cotswolds are narrow, curve a lot, and have no shoulders, so this was not a safe option, but I hoped perhaps someone would take pity on me, and someone did; Neville picked me up and drove me the five miles (by road, not by walking track) to Broadway, the town of my next lodging. He didn't live there but made the excuse that he needed to go to a shop there. Also, he needed to pick up his ironing. So I dripped all over his lovely car while he parked in front a house and a young women brought out his ironed clothing and waved at me. When he dropped me off in Broadway, I said, "Neville, you are today's angel" and he replied, "Well, I think you're a resolute young woman."

That first rainy day I discovered that I should have brought my hiking boots; the soles of my every-day boots would not navigate muddy terrain. So, in Broadway, once I'd checked in, gave the housemaid my soggy clothes to wash and dry--so grateful that service was available for a fee--I walked around town, not daring to hope I'd find a shoe store. Yet, one block from my B&B I found "Pairs," which sold hiking boots. The first pair I tried on were perfect, and the price was decent. So, problem solved. I must stress that not every town I stayed in had a shoe store, or not one so obviously placed.

My third night of the trip, I was staying in Chipping Campden, one of my favorite villages of the six on my route. But by that evening I had walked probably nine miles, was very tired, and felt a bit lonely for the first time since arriving in England. I decided to walk across the street to another inn, in which there was an Indian restaurant that did carry-out orders. While I waited for my order, sitting at one end of the room with my back to the other diners, I noticed a gentleman sitting down by himself over to my left, just a few feet away.

I will shorten this: the man was the British actor Mark Williams, who has many screen credits but would be best known by Americans as the Weasleys' father in Harry Potter, as one of the bumbling dog thieves in 101 Dalmatians, and most recently as the new Father Brown of the BBC series that's based on the mysteries of G.K. Chesterton. I've become a Father Brown fan, and of all the actors to see in person, Mr. Williams was the perfect one on that evening of a very long day. I did stop at his table, on my way out the door with my food, and asked if he was Mark Williams, and he answered in the affirmative, and we had a brief, friendly exchange during which I did not act like an idiot fan. However, I grinned like an idiot all the way back to my room and didn't even mind that the coleslaw had been packaged in a  plastic bag, forcing me to eat it with my fingers. Happy, happy.

Every day I walked--and that was five out of the six days (the fifth day I took the bus so that I would have plenty of time to hang out at the Cotswold Falconry Centre in the next town--a good decision)--every day I walked, something went wrong with the directions. Either the route notes were not clear or were inaccurate or I read them incorrectly or a landowner had messed with the markings so that hikers would stop walking across his property. Every day I got lost. And every day I managed to find my way. If you have a sense of direction, you cannot appreciate what a grace this was. I have absolutely no sense of direction, and the fact that I did not panic but simply solved problems and invented a new way--this is one of the graces of the trip I appreciate most.

Another grace: I cussed maybe twice on the whole trip. Anyone close to me understands that this was a freakin' miracle.

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