Day 37 - Return Journey
We packed up, had breakfast then set off for the journey home. I had completed my route and conquered Snowdon. I’d been everywhere my dad had gone to except the seaside towns of Pwhelli and Abersoch, which I didn't make it to. I considered going there that final morning but the rain was chucking it down so I left it. They will have to wait for another time, a reason to return to Wales.
Here is my dad’s return journey…
And here's mine:
We set off from Waunfaur, in my stepdad Peter’s Tesla, a far cry from the Lancia Fulvia, but, for better or for worse, equally evocative of the era.
We followed the A55 back along the Welsh North coast, the Eastward lane taking us around some of the headlands that the Westward lane had tunneled under.
There had been no charging points whatsoever anywhere near the cottage so we had to stop at a golf resort to charge for half an hour. Whilst we waited I had an instant coffee and a dry and bland muffin from the clubhouse café.
Wales then England flashed by at speed. I can't say I took much notice of the various ugly concrete motorway junctions we passed by, bridged by the sort of flyovers that my dad’s dad, my Polish engineer grandfather Henryk built in great number in Britain after the war.
Lunch was from Tebay services and deserves no further elaboration.
After a long journey in often heavy traffic, we finally made it back to Scotland.
My journey ended rather abruptly as I was dropped off at Hermiston Gait, whose pretty name belies its reality as an uninspiring out of town shopping centre at the edge of Edinburgh, the sort of hateful places I avoid at all cost. I said goodbye to Mum and Peter and found myself alone once again with my backpack, waiting for a train back to Haymarket, where I alighted and took a taxi home with my bags.
It was a funny sort of a day that passed me by in a daze. There was a feeling of anticlimax and disappointment. I suppose I didn't know what I was expecting to happen, but it wasn't this. There was no fanfare, nothing marked the end, just a sudden return to the sterile mediocrity of modern life, complete with service stations, shopping centres and suburban sprawl, populated by the bored looking faces of commuters. And none of it had brought my dad back. He was still gone, and his journey from 50 years ago nothing but a tiny window onto a lost time, one that I imagined was more innocent, before the weight of the world bore down upon him. I didn't know what I had hoped to achieve in retracing his footsteps. It had brought me closer to him in a way. I had thought of him a lot and imagined how he might have felt as he walked these same routes. But ultimately it just made me miss him more.
That feeling of disappointment subsided by the evening as the positives overtook them in my mind. I was very happy to be reunited with my wee family, whom I had missed very much. Factoring in Gift Aid I had raised £5000 for Maggies Centres, a huge achievement that will help then support many other families in crisis because of cancer. I’d had a wonderful time exploring huge swathes of Wales and Shopshire, meeting loads of lovely people, and getting into all sorts of adventures. I’d brought my dad's journal to life and really enjoyed connecting with him through it all. I’d walked for hundreds of miles, shed weight and toned up, and my calf muscles now bulge out so much they barely fit in my skinny jeans! And through the blog and social media I hope that I have raised not only money but awareness of the work that Maggies Centres do, and hopefully inspired other people to get off their backsides and do something worthwhile. There's a whole world out there! Don’t let it pass you by!