An Epic Quest Worthy of a Peter Jackson Movie Treatment

So I went on my weekend pilgrimage, saw everything that I wanted to see, and returned unharmed, victorious over the UK landscape. I was very satisfied, and I suppose I would even go so far as to say that I am proud of myself for accomplishing such a feat. It all started on Friday morning. I was going to leave from the train station at around 10, but there wasn't a shuttle to get in town from the manor until 10, although I thought there was one at 9, but I was mistaken. So My trip was delayed for an hour, which was actually good, because it gave me time to do a little more research about where the individual places were that I wanted to go to. So then I made it to the train station and the whole time I was thinking, 'this is it, I'm out on my own.' So I made my way to Kidderminster first, and I had to make 2 train changes in the process. It was raining basically from the time that I got on the train (but not before, luckily), and this phenomenon will come back later. I got to Kidderminster and had to wait around for a taxi to take me to the country. I finally got one and then went out to the church where John Bonham is buried. That in itself was fairly exciting, because I just got this feeling of 'I'm going to see something special.' I looked around for just a few minutes, and then I came to it, the grave itself. I just stood there for a few seconds, in awe that I was actually there; standing where the drummer from my favorite band ever was buried. I then thought, the other band members have probably been to this exact spot on more than one occasion, I'm standing where they have been. It was just this incredible feeling of something that had been abstract becoming tangible. I took lots of pictures, and then I thought, 'hey, my camera probably has a timer on it, I could get a shot of me with the grave.' So I did, and now I can prove that I was there. The whole time I was basically in disbelief, thinking, this isn't actually the grave of the legendary rock drummer, it can't be. It was so surreal. I then called the number that the taxi-cab driver gave me, to get another taxi to come and take me back to the rail station. But there would be no such journey. I called but they said that it would take a while for anyone to get out that far, so it was better for me to just find a local cab. Well, it turned out that local meant walking about 4 or 5 miles. And even then, after walking through numerous fields and asking a few people directions, I still wasn't in town. It had been raining (per earlier in the story) and so my shoes and my pants had become quite muddy, and my shoes were soaked. I finally stopped at a small shop selling vegetables and other such country commodities and asked if they knew the number for a local cab service. The lady there id, and so she brought out here home phone and I called the cab. She told me to tell them to meet me down the road at a local pub. So I walked about another half-mile to this pub, and got picked up. I asked the driver where a good place to eat would be, and he gave me a few options, but recommended on place in particular, so I went there. I don't remember the name of the pub, but it had amazing food. I got some chicken smothered in cheese and bacon (English bacon is more like slightly-crisp ham, but it's still bacon) and mushrooms. I also had mashed potato (singular in Britain) and some vegetables, which I ate all of, thank you very much. I was so thirsty I just got water to drink. So then after I was done I walked to the rail station and got a ticket to go to Oxford. This was supposed to involve 2 train changes, but ended up being a bigger hassle. The train that I was supposed to take to begin with ended up being about a half-hour or so late, and so by the time I got to the station where the train was supposed to take me to Oxford, the train was on the platform but it was pulling out, and I didn't have time to realize that that was the train that I needed. So I was stuck, and I asked the workers what I should do. They initially told me that the next train wouldn't come for over 2 hours. A little later I saw another guy who had missed the Oxford train talking to a manager, and he got put on another train. So I asked the manager about it, and he said that if we went to this other station that we could get an earlier train out. So everything ended up alright, and when I arrived in Oxford it was just a short walk to my hostel. I then called home to let my parents know that I had gotten there safely, and then I went to bed. I've never really been able to sleep at hostels so far, I think it's just because it's somewhere unfamiliar, and I don't like not knowing where I am. So I'm sure I slept some, I'm just not sure how much. The next morning I got up and had a continental breakfast (which consisted of cereal and a croissant) and then got going. The first thing that I decided to do was go somewhere to get some new pants, because I had only brought that one pair for the weekend, and now they were all muddy, and I didn't want to look dirty, so I got a new pair of pants at a shopping center. I looked around a little bit, and then I went to a bathroom and changed into these new pants. By this time it was almost time for lunch, so I thought that I would look for my first stop which would be the Eagle and Child, the pub where J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and their friends would go to eat and talk. It wasn't hard to find with the maps that I had printed out, and so I went inside to see what it was like. From the outside you would never know that it was somewhere even semi-famous. It was just on the inside, in the room where the Inklings, as the guys were known, met that there were pictures and plaques and stuff. I took pictures of everything, and then ordered some food. It was one of the best burgers I've ever had, and the fries were great too. It wasn't at all like fast food. I then got one of the bar-tenders to take a picture of me sitting there, and then I left. My next stop would be Wolvercote Cememtary in North Oxford, where Tolkien was buried. I looked at the map to see what I was supposed to be looking for, got on the right road, and just started walking. I neglected to look at the part of the map where it said that the route would be a little over 3 miles. So that was a fun walk, my back and shoulders were aching from carrying my backpack, but I got there. There was a sign on the outside that said to just follow the markers to find the Tolkien grave. Sure enough every 15 feet or so there was a marker pointing the way to the grave. I got to the grave, and it was highly decorated with flowers. The grave was of Tolkien and his wife, and under their names were printed the names Beren for Tolkien and Luthien for his wife. These were the names of a man and an elf who feel in love from Tolkien's book the Silmarillion, which was like the Old Testament to Lord of the Rings as the New Testament. It was really awesome to see. Here was the guy who had written the books that had really started me reading adventure books, as the Hobbit was one of the first adventure stories that I ever read. After taking all of the pictures that I wanted I left and caught a bus to the town center. I then looked for a cab for about a half-hour, because I couldn't figure out where they were parking, and unlike in America you don't just flag one down, you have to wait until they are parked. So then I got a taxi, and had the driver take me to the Holy Trinity Church, where C.S. Lewis was buried. This church was fairly small, and so the grave was really easy to find. There was one sign pointing to where it was located. The grave was different than the others, in that it was just a flat-slab on the ground, with the names of Lewis and his brother on it, and an incised cross towards the top. Again, it was a surreal feeling to think that I was standing so close to the body of someone whose work I had read, like his Space Trilogy, and Mere Christianity. This was the man that wrote those things, and I'm looking at his grave. I took a few pictures, and then went to a small pub that was very close to the church. I asked if anyone there knew the number for a taxi, and then owner was very nice and called the taxi on his cell phone and told it where to pick me up and that I wanted to go to the train station. So then I got to the train station, and I was going to have 2 train changes in order to get to Salisbury, my next stop. No train delays this time, and so I got to Salisbury ahead of schedule. I wasn't supposed to check into my hostel for about an hour and a half more, but I went ahead and got a taxi to take me out to the hostel anyway. It was a few miles into the country side, so the taxi cost over 20 pounds, which would be about $40, so that was a bit steep. I got to the hostel, and the check-in guy wasn't around, so I called the mobile number that was left on the door, and I had to wait just a few minutes longer and he showed up. He was a younger guy, probably not much older than me, and he was really nice and helpful. He got me all set-up and even got a taxi for me in the morning to take me to Stonehenge (which was one of the major reasons I went to Salisbury, that and the cathedral). So it was really nice to have everything ready to go, so that I could just sit back and relax. That night I didn't have anything to do, being so far out in the country, so I just laid in my bed and read some of Plato's Republic, which I have been reading off and on for a few weeks now. I was also waiting on a phone call from home, because I was going to talk to my grandparents who were up for a funeral, sadly. As I was reading, the two other guys that were sharing the room came in. They were really interesting, and in a good way. They were friends from London, Simon who was 38 and Steve who was 41. They were out for a weekend away from the city. They were both into music, with Simon being a producer and Steve being a DJ. They were really interesting to talk to, we talked about a full range of subjects, including politics, philosophy, music, history, and our own respective countries. I then got the phone call and talked to my grandma and then my mom for a little while. I then went back to my room and talked to Steve and Simon some more, and then we went to bed. I slept really well that night, because apparently there was a really bad storm, on of the worst that they've had this year, and I didn't hear a thing. In the morning I got up and got ready and then went downstairs to eat my cereal again. I then waited for my taxi to come. When it arrived, the driver took me Stonehenge, per the previous night's agreement. I saw Stonehenge on the horizon, and it was really an amazing experience. I was dropped off, and it was just awe-inspiring. I mean, the stones themselves weren't all that amazing, it was just the whole experience altogether. It's just like when I was at Bonham's grave, I got to thinking about where I was, and who had been there before be, and I thought 'people thousands of years ago put these up, and they are still here, that's amazing in itself, even if the stones themselves aren't all that amazing.' I also got some really good pictures, because the sky was amazingly beautiful that day. I was lucky because I got there right when it opened (an open air structure has opening times, go figure) and so I was able to get through and see the stones without a big crowd. The way it works is that you pay your admission on one side of the road, and then you go through a tunnel under the road and you see the stones that way. After I was done I had to wait about an hour for a bus to go into town. When I got into town, I was going to leave straightaway to go back to Grantham, but then I remembered that lots of people had said that the Salisbury cathedral was beautiful, so I thought that I should check it out. I just had to walk a short distance, less than a mile, and there was the cathedral. It wasn't hard to find, as the spire towered over the rest of the buildings, so I just kept walking towards it. When I got to it, it was pretty awe-inspiring. It wasn't as big as the Lincoln cathedral, but it was still pretty big. On the inside there was a service going on, but I took pictures anyway, because at first I didn't realize that a service was going on. One of the usher guys kept giving me funny looks, and at first I thought that it was because I had forgotten to take my hat off, so I did that. And then on the way out of the sanctuary I noticed a sign that said that photography was ok, except during a service. Well, I couldn't really take it back, so there was nothing I could do. I walked around and saw all there there was to see inside. They had one of the Magna Carta copies displayed, and this one was in even better condition than the one in Lincoln. Of course I couldn't take pictures of it, but I had come to except that. The room that it was in was beautiful, much like the domed-room in the Lincoln cathedral. This one had restored stained glass windows all around, and lots of painted architecture. It was so pretty, but I couldn't take a picture of it, which was too bad, but I understood. After I had seen everything, I went to the train station and got a ticket to Grantham. The actual journey itself took shorter than I expected, Because I was expecting to go back that way that I had come, but that wouldn't make sense because the route that I took was out of convenience to go to the site that I wanted to see, so it wasn't exactly the most efficient route. So I went to London, took the Underground to another train station in London, and then after one train-change I was back in Grantham. All in all, it was a good trip, and I enjoyed the freedom so much. I would do it again in a heartbeat, but we'll just have to see if I have the time or places to go.