Wien at Last
The weather has changed dramatically; then again, it is the Easter bank holiday. At Passau, it was mostly families with youngsters, then again it is a YH and not a backpacker, you need to be a paid-up member of the Youth Hostel Association (or affiliated, I by my SYHA membership, thankfully it was in my wallet) to get a room. All accommodations are now full to overflowing, so I’m pleased now that I booked earlier in the year, even though it was a bit dicey about COVID and the weather.
I chose the bus from Passau, simply because it was direct, with the local train I would have had to change at least once possibly twice depending on the train. The bus should have been cheaper too but the driver insisted I pay a further 9 euros for the bike. Now I have had that bike on board half a dozen Flexbus, and no one has, until today, asked me for more money. Of course, you just have to pay up no alternative; they have you over a barrel. Still, the trip was, smooth and fast, straight along the motorway – or should that not be Autobahn.
By the time I was booked in and had a shower it was into early evening, so nothing to write home to mummy about, but this is a big city and there is a lot to see so a busy day tomorrow.
When I was out the clouds parted and I could see it was a full moon tonight, with high spring tides.
I will go off and try to find my friend Herr Snowden, we sailed out of Grimsby together almost every weekend the club would have a race out for the full turn of the tide (12 hours) and on long weekends they would organize a trip up to Bridlington or down to Norfolk. We put in a lot of sea time at the Grimsby Sailing Club (only sailing yachts could join), any way to cut a long story short Peter, married his long time girlfriend and the moved back to her home town Wien.
Peter bought a classic sailing yacht and had it shipped out to Austria, and like all old boats that you buy wearing your rose-tinted glasses, he had not only bitten off as much as he could chew, he had gone and swallowed the whole cow. Once you get into these things you just keep digging. He would write me from time to time asking if I could find various parts for his boat and I would send them off to him, sometimes the cost of postage was more than the second-hand part.
We did keep in touch – the odd Christmas card would always be answered with another – even if belated. Last year I did not receive a reply to my card, I am hoping it is because he has moved home, possibly closer to where he sails his boat. A great ending to this story would be that I find him again, he has finished the refit (reconstruction) of the boat and we can once more sail together. As always we travel hopefully.
I wonder what their reaction will be after all these years,
“Oh, no look what’s going to our door, send the bairn to answer the door, tell him “Mum and dad are not in”.
“A you sure?”
“Mum – dad, share your no in”