I am a huge advocate of using ferries and trains as alternatives to planes. I generally find these methods of travel far more civilized than air travel. Unfortunately, on the journey from Dublin to London, this was not the case.
The day started off poorly when our 8 am ferry was cancelled. The unhelpful staff at Irish Ferries told us the next ferry was at 9 pm and gave us no other options. Thankfully, we met some lovely fellow travelers who told us about another ferry leaving from Don Laoghaire at 13:50. We took the commuter train out to Don Laoghaire, about a 20 minutes ride, and we boarded Stena Line’s fast ferry. On the positive side, because we had booked out tickets through British Rail, Stena Line honored them, and Stena Line’s staff was extremely courteous.
We sat in the middle back where the ride was the smoothest because I discovered I get seasick in rough waters.* Daniel and Peter had no problem dealing with the wavy motions. I feel I should mention that the slower, bigger ferry we took on the way over was no problem with regards to sea-sickness.
*I was really disappointed to learn this about myself. I consider myself an avid adventurer and thrill seeker. Sky-diving, rock-climbing and off-piste skiing are all activities I enjoy. To be rendered useless by some soothing up and down motion was depressing.
The journey continued with an hour wait at Hollyhead, then a train to Crewe, followed by a packed train from Crewe to Chester (the sardine experience I mentioned in the previous post), followed by a packed and delayed train to Euston. We were lucky that the nice attendant at Stena Line ferries had the foresight to assign us seats so we were able to sit down. On the final leg, the pram remained in the train entrance-way and Daniel slept on myself for an hour and a half, and then on Pete for an hour and a half (initially, Pete would jump up to move them pram when the doors opened on the side it was on, but as the delay of the train became bigger so did the line to get off the train, and eventually it was impossible to access the pram ahead of time – it must have sorted itself out because when we got to Euston our pram was still intact).
Incidentally, the delay in Chester gave us enough time to check out the town square, and what a charming town square it was. Quite like something out of a period movie.
Another plus: Daniel easily transferred to a pram when we got to Euston and similarly to his crib when we got home, worn out by the day’s travel. A day we’d quite frankly rather forget the majority of.
Not all adventures are fun, but they are still worth doing! What is your worst transit story? What is your best transit story?