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24
Trip End
Jun 20, 2006
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London,
United Kingdom
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
In the beginning of 1863 and while it was yet winter, I had to go on a flying visit to Arendal, on the southern coast of Norway. Circumstances, beyond my control, permitted no choice as to the season, which rendered travelling extremely difficult; the usual means of conveyance being suspended until spring. I was further more restricted as to time; and having to leave a business requiring close attention, it was desirable to make my absence from it as brief as possible.
A moment's glance at the map showed Hull to be the best port of departure, for during the spring and summer the Hull steamers cross the German Ocean every week for a Christiansand from whence Arendal could easily be reached. By this means my destination might be reached in two or three days at farthest; but as these boats do not run in the winter they could not be taken into calculation at all. There is a steamer from London to Gothenburg weekly, so long as the navigation of the latter port is not impeded by ice; but there's no means of getting from thence to the south coast of Norway could be found in Bradshaw, I decided not to take this route; although the event proved I might as well have done so.
There remained one or two other circuitous ways, of which the most feasible seemed by steamer to Hamburg, and thence by rail to Kiel where, according to the timetables, a steamer might be found for Christiana; and once arrived at the Norwegian capital, means of reaching any part of the provinces would be certain.
Leaving Home
So I wrote to the Hamburger Steam Packets agent in London to make sure of this, stating I wish to go as quickly as possible; and he sent me a telegram in reply, stating that there would be a steamer from Kiel, as supposed; and that it was just possible to be in time for this, by sailing next morning by their own vessel, The City of Perth, for Hamburg.My portmanteau was packed up without further delay; and with twenty-five pounds in my pocket, a great coat on my back, and a railway rug on my arm, I sallied forth at midnight to make the mail train to London. I took with me some books and newspapers in Norsk, with which to practice the language as much as possible, in the day or to that intervened, before I should be thrown upon my own resources for speaking it; and I had already picked up a few words and phrases from Norwegian seamen in our own Docks during the previous year or two, little supposing I might ever have such occasion to use them.
It may have been the sight of the Gothic letters in the newspaper I was engaged in reading, that aroused the curiosity of a stranger who took his seat by my side; for he soon began a conversation, in the course of which he said he was a Swede from the isle of Gothland. On telling him I might possibly have to pass through part of Sweden in a few days, and asking his advice on sundry matters of posting, changing horses, etc., he very readily gave all the information he could to facilitate my journey; though he assured me it would be a difficult one at this season.
It is a cheerless thing to arrive in London that half-past four on a winter's morning.
Leaving London
I was the solitary occupant of the omnibus that greets the mail train and there was nothing to do for the next hour but to listen to the echo of the wheels through the deserted streets, and watch the lines of lamps receding into the endless fog. There is ever something impressive in the stillness of London in nearly morning: and is seen doubly same now on my way for a land whose total population was not half that of our metropolis. We stopped at an "early house", where rest, a good fire, and hot coffee form the chief attractions to the houseless and homeless folk who stand in need of them. When the morning was sufficiently advanced, I bent my steps in the direction of the Tower Wharf and thence got a boat for the steamer, which lay in the middle of the River. The Thames below London Bridge, just as the tide is up, presents a curious and busy sight. It is difficult to realize the connexion of this wide flood, bearing the ships of all nations on its bosom, with the brooklet that rises in our own neighbourhood. The source of the Thames is so small, but a member of our town council was afraid to divert it from its course to supply our ancient city of Gloucester with water, lest we should use it all up, and so destroy the Commerce in London!Amid the clank of chains from the cranes, the hiss of steam, the plashing of oars and paddles, and the hundred voices of commercial activity, we passed down the Thames - leaving behind is the dense forest of masts; until the River grew broader and emerged into the open sea. In a few hours more we were rising and falling with the swell of the German Ocean, with the low-lying shores of the Netherlands on our right hand; while several sails were dotted about on the sea before, with the blue sky overhead. As the night drew on, the wind increased and the aired grew colder; and being left alone on the deck, I descended to join my fellow passengers in the cabin. We sat in a semicircle round the fire, and I had leisure to scan the features of each of them. The first was a gentleman, past middle life, accompanied by dog, who was yet in his youth. Next to him sat a young man, apparently a student, who spoke German fluently, and was on his way to Magdeberg; then came the a tall young gentlemen, with wing whiskers, who smoked many cigars, and exhibited good conversational powers. On the other side sat a military German, of middle age, who had just come from India; who would just come from India; and beyond him, up in a corner, was an old sea-captain, whose face, somehow, seemed familiar to me, though I could not tell why. After awhile, he asked me if I lived at Gloucester, and on my replying in the affirmative, he said he had often seen me there, when lying in the docks with his ship the Van Laffert Lehsen, of Rostock.
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I'd thought originally I would go up to Gloucester and start from there, but my plans went a bit awry, so I started instead from London but actually as a result of my travel-departure-anxiety I was awake and bright at 4:30 on the morning of my departure, although I didn't need to leave the house until 7-ish. I really like the idea that the streets of London could ever be so quiet that one could "hear the echo of the wheels...". The closest, I think, is in Venice.
I'm not exactly sure what a "portmanteau" is, but my preferred choice these days is a backpack and daypack which I wear in front.
I took the tube, changing to the Metropolitan Line at Baker Street station, noting that this had only been open six weeks before JB journeyed.
I had tried to see if I could go from London to Hamburg by boat, but this is now impossible as a paying passenger, and lawyers have tied everything up so that you cannot "work your passage" unless you're a full-blown member of the seaman's union.
So I opted for the modern equivalent and after the train to Harwich took the Stena high-speed ferry to Hook of Holland. Last time I'd done this route was with Theodora and her friend Emma when we went cycling and camping in the Netherlands a couple of years back.
