England, October 2009

I landed at Heathrow at noon, unrested and hungry. Bob Palin, my "significant other" (what a horrid title for someone who is practically family) had made all the arrangements for this trip.... car, airlines, logistics.


The fact that United Airlines cancelled our direct flight shortly after we booked it didn't lighten Bob's mood. Neither did their refusal to change the booking from inconvenient Denver (the recently departed departure point) to Salt Lake City.... the airline also made check-in a fiasco. I couldn't resist snapping a shot of the grump in character. He claims to be just " messing around" in this photo.


Our trip is for his mum who is turning 80 next week. She has planned the whole party for 60 guests herself, right down to buying the cases of wine, writing and mailing the invitations, choosing the flowers and booking the venue. She has an impressive energetic style about her, which would wear most people out.

This is my second trip to England, this time with a native. It's going to be the trip of a lifetime. I plan to write a magazine article covering my quest to find a place that meets the "Janet test". A pub with authentic ambience, excellent dark locally brewed stout and fabulous vegetarian food. It's a quest.



We launched out of the airport carpark on the wrong side of the road with Bob behind the wheel of a puke green Ford Fiesta. He skillfully whisked us toward Swaffham onto the M25, direction of "The North", a dual carriageway. How British.


But first, we made a quick stop in Luton to see Bob's childhood home. I snapped a shot out the window as Bob cast a brief glance at number 13 Saint Luke's Close. He sped around the cul-de-sac and drove on. Did I miss something or is that considered a visit?

I have to admit I didn't complain much because it was way past lunchtime and I needed to start my quest for the ultimate vegetarian pub experience immediately. Bob knew just the place.

The Millstream Pub in Hitchin is a classic country pub. Classy, but old. Clean but full of character. Not fancied up too much. A selection of ales and porters on tap, and a chalkboard covered wth today's specials hovered over the bar. Jessica the barmaid took our order and served us promptly. I opted for the locally-brewed McMullan AK ale, a dark amber, slightly sweet beer. Paired with a black bean burger, hot English mustard and a perfect baked potato (jacketed) the entire experience cast a shadow of suspicion on my quest. Had I already found the perfect pub experience? Was my quest going to be so simple it would cease to be a quest at all?


The exterior of Millstream was nothing special, lending credence to the authenticity of the place. I can't say I've ever had a better black bean burger. Crisp on the outside, but not charred, served on a flour "bap" which is a soft white roll. Nothing exists quite like it in the US. "What's a bap?" I asked Bob, after I scanned the menu. He must have considered the question inane. "It's white, always." The rest I figured out myself, once the burger and bap were in front of me. Bob is helping me become smarter that way.

Down the street was a more photogenic pub. No time to stop.
On the way to Swaffham we passed dozens of pubs, all beckoning to me, like the Castle Anthrax in Monty Python's Holy Grail. Sometime in the next three weeks, I imagine I'll find a reason to complain about British food.... but so far I'm embarrassed about the general quality of US restaurants. Thank goodness my niece is going to the Culinary Institute of America. She needs to come to England before she graduates and get a taste of this incredibly underappreciated culinary experience. Cheers!

First flowers of 2009 in Grand Wash, CRNP

Once the mandatory Easter egg hunt lost its attractive luster and our blood sugar spiked from the Jelly Bellies, we sat down to breakfast and planned our day: Hiking in Capitol Reef's Grand Wash.





For sustenance we ate my homemade ginger preserves on fresh-baked oatmeal ginger bread and Bob's hi-test coffee. Who says life in Utah's Outback has to be hardscrabble and bereft of pleasure?



We set off for the park armed with Clif Bars, water, cameras and shorts (just in case). The Grand Wash section of the park was was nearly 70 degrees -- which after a long, cold winter, felt like 100 degrees. We were too disorganized to put on our shorts which was probably a good thing because the ubiquitous holly bushes would have left a mark on our legs. Who would have guessed so much holly would grow in the desert?

Soon we stumbled across this graffiti carved into the stone canyon walls. Or is it cultural history? Who gets to decide?



The side canyon we chose to hike was steep. Because Bob takes more photos (and much better quality) than me, he is always behind and below me. I would never mention that I'm in better shape.

I wish the giant Ponderosa pine (pictured below) could tell some of the stories it has seen. Flash floods, crazy tourists who get lost, meandering mountain sheep and other wildlife, and the futility of all those human worries passing beneath its branches. I like the tower to its left, too.



Here we are at the top of the side canyon. Bob contemplates the hike down, scrambling over boulders and along the steep side slope. Above us huge slabs of sandstone are poised to come crashing down. They seem to be attached to the canyon wall by a tiny thread. Stupidly, we are not concerned, despite the enormous broken chunks of canyon wall lying all around us. I mean, how much worrying is useful in a place like this?

Here is one of the many holly bushes, by far the most dangerous part of the hike. Although they never drew serious blood, they are sharp little buggers for such an innocuous little green leaf. Much like the "killer bunny" in one of the Monty Python movies. Name the movie...




About a half mile down Grand Wash I wandered up a sandstone outcrop to explore. First, I spied these petroglyphs. I haven't read whether these are considered "original" artwork or if they were designed by non-natives... but they're interesting. There is even an upside-down mountain sheep -- what that signifies I have no idea.

Here is the first mallow of the season. Three of these plants were growing on top of the sandstone ledge, spaced about 20 feet apart.



Intrepid hikers, we were totally worn out after only about 4 miles of hiking. And most of it was nearly flat. Bob blamed the heat and I blamed, well, I still can't think of anything to blame. Maybe our Clif bars were just not the right flavor.


We arrived back in Torrey dragging ourselves around as if we'd just run a marathon. Smart people would have called it a day. But that whirlwind of a gardener, Bob, revived at the thought of digging some holes in the dirt. We planted a row of sugar snap peas, snow peas, purple cabbage and kale.


Such a hard day... thank goodness for an ice cold G+T on the front porch. Nothing surpasses the taste of a much-earned drink.