(This isn’t a travelogue, let’s be fair, a quick glance at Trip Advisor will tell you more about Nashville than I could, but an outline of our time in the city and some observations that appealed to me.)

Thanks to Amex and British Airways we’d acquired some credits to get a cheap low cost flight to Nashville, Tennessee. I’d been here in 2015 but the chance to return here and then to Memphis was not something I was about to pass up. If the original flight was cheap then the chance to upgrade from Economy to Premium Economy was irresistible when asked at Check In and we made the nine hour flight in greater comfort albeit about £668 poorer for the two seats. It was worth it.

We’d booked accommodation in a self catering flat in Downtown and from here we’d see the sights using, mainly shank’s pony. The city or Downtown is ‘party town’ and with nine years elapsing I last cycled here it seemed to have got brighter, louder and, as with all the USA, dramatically more expensive. In most large US cities then sprawl is enormous and the tourist hotspots don’t define the character of the town and in reality as you drive in the suburbs you quickly realise that probably most residents, in Nashville, care little for country music.

They reckon the average American has a wage 40% higher than a Brit. (That may be the average (mean but not the median or mode I suggest) difference but not for all as I explain below.) They need it! I couldn’t say all the prices were 40% higher than the UK but it was getting that way by the time you added on Sales Tax and subsidised the restaurant or bar owner by lobbing the waitress a 20% tip. In fact tipping has progressed to be a further optional sales tax eg. In a coffee shop you’re invited to add up to 30% for someone who stands behind a counter, writes your name and coffee specification on a paper cup, hands it to a co-worker and then smiles at you, mutters something banal and insincere such as ‘Awesome! Have a wonderful day’ and moves onto the person next in the queue. We spent most of our leisure time in Nashville and Memphis in attractions or in areas of hospitality and it became wearing the continual begging from guides or musicians for tips. ‘I don’t get paid to give this talk’ or ‘your generosity will help us pay for dental treatment..’ etc. This latter one came after we paid a door cover charge for the band!

One economy were Uber taxis. This facility is a blessing with the App and they are cheap! Two of our drivers were on vacation from their ‘day’ jobs! Rather than sit at home they clocked on for a few hours. Americans get a paltry holiday allowance and it seems that even when they do have time away from their main job they get out and work. You do feel Americans work a lot harder than Europeans. Another driver, Jennie described herself as ‘big’ yet complained as we shuffled into her SUV, when leaving Walmart, that she hardly knew how her last passenger at ‘500lbs’ (35 stone!) had squeezed himself into the car. Like a lot of Americans Jennie, mid forties, suffered from an over active knife and fork and you’d scratch your head as to why they risk these future mobility and health risks.

Her size, however, might have helped in her main job as a Correction Officer. She worked at a County Jail and was trained in prisoner restraint. For all this she only received $19/hour, whereas on a good Uber day she could make $40/hour. We asked if she ever had troublesome passengers? ‘No, not really’ as she’d only had to use her firearm (nestled in the centre armrest) twice! The biggest problem arose when an aggressive Mexican had taken her phone and purse to suddenly see the error of his ways when he was facing a loaded pistol. She did comment that this Mexican was probably an ‘illegal, like half of them’. (Another vote for Trump there.) Sadly this interview was going well until arriving at our destination, which foreshortened this fascinating discussion.

You might expect a little information on our musical discoveries. On the main drag in Downtown, Lower Broadway, there were numerous bars with live music. By 8pm it was cacophonous walking down the streets with thousands of mainly younger folk parading in T shirts, short skirts, cowboy hats and boots. They were out to party. It was exciting, a bit like moving with a tide of football fans about to enter a stadium for a key match. On one night we visited a bar where the beers were cheap and the music up beat and sweaty. We chose Robert’s. This bar promised honky tonk country music from the house band. On another night at Chief’s we saw a proper concert with an artist whose music I’d collected Julie Roberts (not Julia). I’ve written up the gig – see the preceding post.

However before that we’d spent lunchtime at Third and Lindsley attending a chat and concert by five songwriters (Gary Baker, Billy Montana, Randall Fowler, Greg Barnhill and Jill Colucci. Four of these had written major hits for major artists over the last 40 years.

The artists included Garth Brooks, Trisha Yearwood, Sara Evans, Wynonna and Lee Brice. The music was terrific, the setting iconic and the history of the songs and their creation captivating. The Country Music Hall of Fame was another morning’s entertainment: a truly excellent museum in the centre of Downtown.

I’ve been in the States a lot and it’s always pleasing how clean the toilets always are (!), how unfailingly courteous most people are, when you might, say, meet on a narrow stairway the other apologises and gives way immediately. However, it still hits you hard how the concept of recycling or waste hasn’t yet had adoption. We looked around for different bins for plastic or paper waste: no chance. We tutted at noting trucks parked up for hours with their engines running or any fast food meal came with disposable styrofoam plates, plastic cutlery and acres of superfluous greaseproof paper. The world’s resources are finite. They don’t get it do they?

We coveted and were jealous of the space. Their supermarkets had wide aisles. They had free parking spaces (and lots of them). Their suburbs were sprawling with spaces between the offices, factories and residential housing. Somehow this space created a feeling of calm and plentifulness to me.

Nashville was mainly white and even the tourists were white. For the first time, in a long time, I observed there were no ethnic Chinese or Asians tourists: I was used to York. Clearly the magic of Hank Williams, Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson had not spread eastwards. If the Downtown streets were white with a handful of African Americans then the retail outlets away from the centre employed many races.

Post Covid there is a scramble for labour in low paid jobs. The working US elderly called it a day, never to return or younger workers moved to jobs that allowed them to keep working remotely. In a Walmart we shopped as the staff chatted to each other in Spanish, not socialising but running the store. I approached a chap for help and asked ‘where can I find sesame bagels please?’ The assistant (Latino?) looked blank but handed me his device to type in what I wanted (to enable a store search) rather than attempt to fathom out what I’d said. A quick practical solution but probably not from a training module he’d attended.

It must be a challenge running a $648 billion business dependent on low wage labour when there’s a chronic shortage. The average Walmart hourly rate is $17.50/hour (£14/hour). The UK’s comparable wage for a supermarket is c£12/hour and the UK cost of living is lower plus the employee benefits are greater. This is a nation where the rich are living on a different planet to hundreds of millions of others who need more than one job to make ends meet. It’ll be interesting to see how this excess of demand over labour supply plays out over the next decade. Can a machine put fruit and veg out or collect all the trolleys spread across a car park?

Nashville exceeded our expectations. With a surfeit of music and sightseeing we took an Uber to the airport to pick up a car for our drive west. I donned my Leeds United shirt as today was the day of the Play Off Final…

I can’t imagine if I’d be able to fathom the prospect that over 40 years after our first meeting in Essex we’d fly out to Spain for a few days of sightseeing, beer and tapas.

We’d started as ambitious yet unproven young men with no track record other than a belief that we could rise up corporate ladders. Whilst this was in the background our main pre-occupation was misplaced vanity, enjoying a good time especially if it involved the company of the opposite sex, live music, beer, playing practical jokes on each other and avoiding the washing up in shared accommodation.

From this revelry to today we’d conquer serious illness, get elected to Parliament, ride a bike solo across America, and quietly assume a senior financial position looking over major acquisitions of international brands. 

Neil, I first met in 1974. Early recollections are listening to his Joni Mitchell Court & Spark cassette in my Triumph Herald as we negotiated the Manchester traffic on our way to lectures on Aytoun Street at Manchester Polytechnic. On arrival I’d scour the pavements for ring pulls. There were plenty and I’d push these into a parking meter to obtain parking for the day. Neil and I were put together by the college in digs in Heaton Moor.

Here we completed our respective degrees before Neil pursued accountancy and I started a career in purchasing. Both our jobs took us south and here we again shared accommodation in Basildon. From here I eventually went north to start a master’s degree and Neil continued, to this day, in corporate finance. My re-appearance in his life probably had a 30 year gap despite being his Best Man at his wedding to Ruth. Today they’re nicely established and partially retired in North London where Neil’s also plugging his EV into a lamppost and saving the planet.

Tim probably appeared in my life in 1979, along with Paul, sharing a house in Billericay (to which I eventually escaped to my own house in Basildon.) Tim also worked at the Ford Motor Company albeit at another plant. Tim’s continuing passions then and now were Wishbone Ash and the Conservative Party. On both counts I was dragged in, as I too liked Andy Powell (one of the two twin lead guitars) and Maggie Thatcher. Tim’s fledgling Tory career was already underway with energetic involvement in various embodiments of the party. By the 1980s he found his way into Parliament to represent a constituency east of London. Before retirement a life in recruitment was his occupation. West London is now his domicile where the Daily Telegraph is his constant companion along with an unhealthy love for Liverpool FC.

Paul also worked for Ford and luxuriated in being a very authentic Yorkshireman. I think ‘no nonsense and blunt’ is a fitting soubriquet. From an engineering start Paul wasn’t likely to stand still and found his way into sales where he spent his working life travelling the world and being sat in front of senior global players selling ‘solutions’. Yes, whatever that may be! Paul found a bride, Jacquie, and now has four children who he’s enormously proud of and whose age range means he’s still ferrying them from Berkshire up motorways to university or visiting them in their careers in West Australia.

So after some negotiation at the beginning of the year we elected to move away from the occasional London lunch to Andalusia. We found our own way there and regrouped early in the evening for the first of three delightful dinners. The newly created WhatsApp group (‘The Essex Four’) buzzed happily with updates on travel progress and arrivals.

Conversation at the dinner table rotated around politics (and Tim’s unwavering assertion that he was right and we were wrong), what we’d do as regards sightseeing and who’s round it was. Anna and Katrina did, thankfully, dilute the political content with their later arrival. There had always been a plan for them to fly in. First to stay with other friends along the coast and then for us join up to get the train to Seville. With flights booked they ended up at a loose end when our other friends couldn’t be in Spain at this time.

Sightseeing involved an enormous climb to the Gibralfaro fort where Tim had to bail out toward the top due to feeling frail after a late night drinking at a jazz club. He did show the spirit of 1980 by keeping from his bed past 1 am. We’d abandoned him at the club claiming weariness and I, personally, was still disappointed after a heavy drubbing at table football.

Tim never contemplated a bike tour due to the possible perception of showing solidarity with a Green agenda by the absence of fossil fuels in our tour of the town. Paul kept him company in the old city and in effect took ‘one for the team‘ by visiting the Picasso Museum. The artist was born in the city. On other cultural exploration Tim opined that all cathedrals ‘were the same’ and side stepped a visit to the architecturally magnificent Catedral de la Encarnación Málaga. Sadly he was correct and I soon stopped listening to the audio guide as we worked our way through numerous saints and endless chapels. However, it is an impressive building.

Evening catering was delegated to Tim and he recommended two of the three night’s venues. It soon became apparent that his communication skills with serving staff merited this leadership rôle. Carmen, a pretty young waitress at our first pre-dinner drink stop, was referred to as ‘a sweet girl’ and at our last restaurant the waiter was brought to heel by ‘my dear boy’.

Ungenerously he did criticise Paul’s choice of restaurant despite its Tripadvisor near 5 star rating: well earned not least for a magnificent, beautifully lit, view of the cathedral. Tapas was our main pursuit and given the cost of €31 each, with a tip, then we either didn’t eat enough or drink enough! On the latter then the local white wine had a thorough examination suggesting we neglected the food.

Conversations reminisced between Paul’s famous stream of visitors to our house from South Yorkshire (attractive women, steel workers and the like) and one famous prank where at 3am we crept along to outside a bedroom with a sailing boat foghorn klaxon to awaken Tim who unsurprisingly came to imagining World War 3 was underway. Paul warming to the cultural aspect of Malaga talked about Bath and Seville in some detail thus bewildering Tim who introduced Graeme Souness (Liverpool FC player and ex-manager) into the conversation as his name approximated to Sulis, the local goddess of the thermal springs that still feed the spa baths at Bath. Obviously the alcohol helped this nonsense.

In all these stories there was a hint of sadness as another housemate, Jason, had passed away in 2017 at the young age of 57. Glasses were raised not least because of his active role in all our youthful stupidity. His crowning glory was buying frogs legs and offering up a ‘chicken sandwich’ to Peter, another housemate. Peter, ever enthusiastic for a free sandwich was a lot quicker to accept the kind offer than to finish it when the protein content was divulged as he munched away.

My hotel was different to the others and I saw maybe more of the city as I trooped in between the two. The centre has tall old buildings, marble pavements and such interesting life whether restaurants, cafes, shops, tourists and churches along my amble. A treat.

On the last morning I volunteered a visit to a car museum – The Automobile and Fashion Museum. This was sensational with some important cars to behold including a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, a gull wing Mercedes and a DB7.

There was ladies fashion but that mainly consisted of mannequins displaying dresses to mollify the bored female visitor I suspect. Naturally Tim didn’t participate despite the preponderance of comforting gas-guzzlers and a welcome return to the 20^th Century.

So it was one last quick lunch and then hand shakes, we haven’t progressed to hugs yet, and then Tim and Neil departed toward the airport to return to London. I headed to Seville and Paul to Valencia with his wife. Making memories is the important thing in life and this was a fine few days.

It seems I’ve been constantly on the move over the last few weeks. The beginning of June saw my leading a tour of nine cyclists across Hadrian’s Wall. I wasn’t on a bicycle and had the dubious delight of getting used to driving a mini bus, with a trailer attached, down narrow country lanes. I was solo as the guide and the initial workload was overwhelming with considerable bike preparation and a busy Friday night in Whitley Bay.

This resort offered no parking and a tight deadline to meet and greet the guests as well as unload the bikes into the hotel. It all peaked at trying to find a bike shop in Carlisle on a busy Saturday lunch time with an hour and half available (as the lunch break) to sort the hydraulic brakes out on a bike to pacify a guest who, not unreasonably, expected his bike to stop when he applied the brakes. (This was his second bike after the original one had pedal problems.) Such was the condition of the bikes I was up against it from the start. The tour got better but bewilderingly I had to respond to my employer afterwards about a complaint about my treatment of a guest. If I’d been asked in advance ‘who has complained about you?’ I would never have identified this guest or the issues they reported. The events were known to me and distorted/exaggerated and gave no thought to how mean and unfair they were. I responded to my employer giving my understanding/explanations. With this interpretation and previous track record they were satisfied and the matter was closed. (In fact I scored 4.4/5 for ‘the guide’ on the tour overall with the guests who responded.)

From here Anna and I disappeared up to the far north west of Scotland to spend a week in a crofter’s cottage on the coast near Kinlochbervie. The last thing we expected was a heatwave! The weather up in the Highlands was fizzing and it was nearly too hot at night to sleep as the foot thick walls gave back the day’s heat overnight. The last time I was up here in the summer it was single figure centigrade and the rain was coming horizontally!

We’d brought bikes – mine a regular one and Anna’s electric. We had a great time together cycling up the NC 500 with the motorcycles and Belgian camper vans. The terrain was lumpy to say the least! From here we stopped overnight in Edinburgh with great friends, Peter and Jude, for some splendid hospitality before returning to Yorkshire.

Next I was en route to Oxfordshire to join a tour with 18 Americans on a ‘high end’ cycle tour around the Cotswolds. This time it was two guides with the mighty Mick who possesses considerable bike maintenance skills. We got off to a great start with the guests by presenting some home made cake by Anna at our first stop that they loved: they love the unique personal touches and one guest made a lovely video showing his appreciation for Anna.

I can’t pretend I’ve worked so hard for a week with so little sleep than around Bampton, Burford, Moreton on the Marsh, Bourton on the Water, Tetbury and then Bath. The rewards were enormous with such kind and generous folk who were unfailingly upbeat, interesting and kind. All this was heartening and restorative after my demoralising Hadrian’s Wall tour.

As I write we’re lodging in a large house in Carcassonne with both daughters and son in laws. Sophie is expecting in December and this has been exciting family news that we’re thrilled about. 

Initially, before the family flew out, we flew into Perpignan and drove down to Figueres in Spain, the home of Salvador Dali, His work and thoughts are all around the town and whilst I know little or nothing about his art his take work is often remarkable and contemporary so many decades after his death.

Picking up the car rented at Perpignan was a typically French experience. Three members of staff for Alamo were in the car park greeting customers or not. One was busy running around and the other two were at a dais looking at their mobiles and talking to each other. I was with about three other customers expecting something to happen for about 10 minutes as they ignored us. Eventually I approached to ask if they had a car for me? One of them sparked into action and said she’d take us to our car. It was a surprise.

Apparently this car is made by the Chinese company who own Volvo. Why give it the name of an upmarket handbag? 

In fact the naming of Chinese cars is something that frustrates me, not least, the appropriation of the ‘MG’ mark by a Chinese company who bought the brand about a decade ago. All over the world you’ll find these bland, look-a-like hatch backs selling off the back of this heritage British marque with simply no meaningful connection to the original cars. Anyway back to the holiday…

Carcassonne has seen us all flop although I have directed my touring bike up into the hills south of Carcassonne. It’s surprising that in a kilometre or two you leave the traffic busy urban streets to not seeing a car for over an hour as you meander up in the hilly countryside to over 400 metres altitude with nothing but the heavy din of the cicadas as a constant companion.

After the offspring depart we’re off to Béziers. Looking forward to it.

In my last blog (about being a tour guide this year) I write about some guest foibles and the highlights and that all tour should finish with tips!

Guest Foibles

One of my opening questions at the briefing is “what are you especially looking forward to during the week?” The men have no particular idea having scanned the itinerary months ago and probably having forgotten it by now. This can be true for the females but less so and there are always a couple of activities that excite. One was the Pilgrim’s Walk across from the mainland to Holy Island. This can only happen when the tide is out. I had one lady say that she’d gone into remission with breast cancer and this had been an ambition before and after her treatment. I was happy to help although the magic of the walk always escapes me. On both walks I’ve had two women fall over on their faces in the mud half way across. As a guide you’re horrified but they both saw it as hilarious and are probably still dining out on the story.

One guest advised that she needed to find a hairdresser to wash her hair. I half understood this. Obviously I have little fleece but having three females in my life I am always staggered by what they put on their hair let alone what they pay at the hairdressers. This was difficult to resolve as we were deep in the Dales and finding a sheep shearer might have been easier. One guest wanted details on what professional women’s football games were on in London at the weekend. Of course you can look at Google but where are the grounds, how do you best get there and how much?

The Highlights

I mentioned that a well curated tour is the most vital thing for success., followed by some decent weather. To think my ‘office’ was Hadrian’s Wall, the Northumberland coastline, Alnwick Castle, Malham Tarn, the Black Sheep Brewery or Fountains Abbey then you can appreciate that there was pleasure in introducing the guests, mostly southerners, to the magnificent landscapes. I never tired of that despite repeat visits. I have a sketchy knowledge of the history but that is improving and I enjoyed learning more, in fact I could have a dart at Mary, Queen of Scots, as my specialist subject on Mastermind. I did tell the other guides on our shared WhatsApp group that excitingly she stayed at one of the attractions I was taking the guests to. Quickly one wiser sage came back and said ‘Tony, she stayed every where!’ True, was in exile in England for 18 years and rolled from one stately pile to another with her entourage of over 50 people. She could fund this number as she was a widow of a former King of France on a very good stipend…enough now Tony.

There is considerable pleasure to gain command of the tour. You start hesitant but eventually you not only know where to go and what to say but you also get sufficient knowledge to deal with changes and variations without due concern. Another thing is that if the tour goes well for a couple of days the guests build up confidence in you and then if things go wrong they’re more forgiving and tolerant.

Some guests are hilarious and or interesting. One American guest took it in her stride a night when the party took on itself to go for a pizza in Settle. The Italian owner was cook, wine waiter and maitre ‘d. He was also a wind bag who took ages to do any of these jobs. This led to delays in the food arriving. It was my night off and so the next morning they all told me about this frustrating night. Were they unhappy? My American guest described this as ‘dinner and a show’ in terms of entertainment!

Often the news headlines would be discussed at breakfast. I kept quiet as my politics were usually not theirs but there was one sad story about an aggressive dog being put down for some terrible attack. The consensus was that the owner should have been destroyed instead! Another guest produced a video on his phone of his dog. I was encouraged to have a look, not an obvious delight for Tony. To my amazement his dog was walking on a tread mill! This is how it often took its exercise. He also recounted a story where his wife popped out for an hour and a half forgetting that the dog was on the tread mill. When she returned Rover was still plodding along!

One driver who was with us for a few days was seemingly relaxed and experienced. However one incident was very tense where he met an oncoming car as he finished crossing a single lane bridge. The woman in the car was gesticulating suggesting he was wrong to not give way. This was a strange point of view given the size of the bus and the fact he was already on the bridge. Anyway, cringingly he stopped beside the grumpy driver, wound down his window and started to debate the merits of her analysis. Fortunately it was relatively brief and the guests thought it was hilarious. I can smile now but surely keep your emotions under control with drivers you’ll never see again and you’re with a bus full of customers? 

There’s only a certain amount you want to learn about guests and certainly only a limited amount you want to tell them. However, conversations start and you can end up down a proverbial rabbit hole. One British resident male guest had a career in IT and ended up a US national. As ‘I peeled the onion’ of his life it had started with a period of time as an ice cream salesman in Kansas. If this wasn’t a very baffling progression then he had chosen to remain a dual national. From here a detailed expose on the tax realities of such a status were revealed. The gist being that Uncle Sam got first dibs before HMRC swept up the balance of the due levy. From here another conversation of why retain both citizenships ensued. It never came with an answer I thought was compelling but there again stuff like Brexit or Scottish Independence never hinge on the logic of monetary arithmetic do they.

As a guide then most of the other professionals you deal with whilst out and about are usually on your side and one meeting that touched me was at Hardraw Force Waterfall in the Yorkshire Dales. Leading the party I turned up at the counter to pay for the guests to walk up to the waterfall. The lady behind the counter was a little terse and sought our help on using the technology to pay for the visit. I also needed a receipt and this was another challenge for her. Anyway we did the transaction and the guests went up to see the attraction whilst I stayed behind. It transpired that she was nearly blind and that using the technology was a bordering on impossible. She told me she had terminal ‘blood cancer’ and that the treatment had led to her blindness. She owned this attraction with her family but she’d had to manage the admissions for the day.

As I helped her she was so grateful and I was offered chocolate bars and coffee for free. Frankly I was so glad I’d helped let alone needed to receive any gratuity. As they say ‘be slow to judge people’.

I must mention the camaraderie of the guides. This wasn’t just when working together but before, after or during a tour you’ve always got someone to ask about lunch solutions, train pick ups, walking short cuts, rescheduling and the like. If you have the experience then you’re happy to share and you know the pressure the guide is under time wise so that everyone responds with alacrity.

Tips

I worked for two tour operators on the four tours. Each operator’s brochure mentions tipping the guide/s on the holiday. Personally whatever I might receive then it was never going to be used to pay a bill or change my life. However, it does provide a fillip and boost for feeling you’ve done a good job. Everyone likes a ‘pat on the back’. 

Before I started there were folklore stories about Americans being very generous and I knew what Anna and I had tipped on our holidays. Surely it’d be a pleasant surprise when they personally sought me out to press cash into my hand before they left? No, frankly it was miserable and I mainly came away thinking that the British were simply mean. The older the guest the lower the tip (or non existent) and as you’ve read then those are the guests who you help most, ask the most questions (sometimes repetitively) , re-arrange dining arrangements for and you have to listen to most to as they regale you with endless anecdotes. The simple fact is that many are lonely and this is a social event as much as a, say, sightseeing or walking holiday.

On average I received less per guest than they spent on cheese, as gifts for family and friends, when we visited the Wensleydale Creamery. For the hours spent, and the care given, this is awful. On my last tour I received no tips. In fact that’s not quite true as one guest organised a cash transfer for me. However, I needed a bank account in the country they originated from to access the dosh. I didn’t and so it remained uncashed. On this last tour I helped and accommodated one guest whose infirmity made their attendance very risky given the unavoidably difficult terrain we visited. If they had taken me to one side, at the end, and simply given me a heartfelt ‘thank you’ for my care it would have been lovely. If there’s one ‘take away’ from guiding then I shall have little or no expectation of gratuities on the next tour!

So next year? Well, I’m up for it and I’ve ‘learned’ my territory so that it should be less time consuming pre-tour and generally less stressful. During the winter I’m taking the necessary steps to get a Private Hire licence. (This is expensive and onerous but the land agent is helping financially.) In the uncertain world of recession and global headwinds who knows how the opportunities will work out but I’m hopeful it continues.

This is Part 3 of my experiences of being a tour guide in 2022. In this blog I’ve attempted to tell you about the detail that goes on in running the tour that maybe the guest doesn’t see. Also the problems!

Guide Challenges

On my first tour I was supporting a lead guide. A nice easy introduction to this tour guide malarky? Not exactly, I was on the train between York and the start in Newcastle when later that morning I got a text. The lead guide had a puncture, he was 20 miles away from the Station and may be late. Don’t panic! Each tour has an itinerary and whilst there is some spare time it is quite tight with distances to drive. What would I do with the guests as our bus and lead guide were absent?  Anyway, the puncture, early on a Sunday morning, got fixed and by the skin of his teeth he turned up with the bus. The guests never knew about the issue. As this was all happening I was investigating taxis to transfer the guests to a pub 40 miles up the road where the bus might catch up with us.

As a guide you have an itinerary. It appears simple just to follow it when you turn up? However, it doesn’t run without a lot of intervention before and throughout the week. On Day 2 of this first tour we came under pressure as the guests worked out that the promised private guides, in the brochure, at the attractions weren’t in place. On this tour the guests, especially the females, knew exactly what they were entitled to. As a consequence one guest went ballistic and rang the tour operator to complain. Overnight the problem was sorted but the guides were left looking hopeless and that the decisions lay elsewhere. Needless to say the complainant was a generally disagreeable lady who took great delight informing the group that she had resolved the matter and that through her intervention it was all sorted. Strictly this was true but in reality she enjoyed being the battle axe that put things right and basking in the glow of her heroism. Separately I had caught her privately and apologised for this embarrassment. She knew the guides had no involvement in this omission but she didn’t have the grace to acknowledge our discomfort. (Overnight the guides without knowing her complaint had raised the matter with our management as well.) Your next thought is why did this happen in the first place? The land agent had failed to do this; maybe as a cost saving?

Our management (land agent) similarly were graceless. Whilst the next private guide at a castle was organised for us the lead guide was left to sort out a private guide at a further attraction. Where do you start when you’re driving the bus, handling guests and frankly very busy? To his credit he sorted it and that was another thing learned.

The guide tour information, prior to a tour, involve some details on the guests. However, some detail is missing including their health. Frankly as far as the tour operator is concerned then providing you’ve signed the disclaimer about your health, and have travel insurance, you can paraglide with one arm and a fear of heights as far as they’re concerned. I discovered on one dangerous section of a very wet and rainy part of Hadrian’s Wall that my 80 year old guest had a replacement hip and shoulder. I spent two and half hours as I helped her and waited with eternal patience for her to complete various sections privately calculating how long it would take the air ambulance to reach us from Newcastle.

On two of the four tours I was sharing the same hotel as the guests. This was terrific for convenience but on two other tours I was located over 10 miles away. In one Airbnb I shared with a guide he got the proper bedroom and I got the spare box room with a child’s bunk bed solution. This wasn’t ensuite and required my going down the stairs through the lounge and then the kitchen to reach the loo. Being of a certain vintage this was necessary during the night. Clearly whoever booked the accommodation just did a crap job and I had three days (and nights) of this nonsense.

However this was ‘topped’ by my turning up at a hotel specified in my joining instructions on another tour that was not only wrong but in the wrong town! I had checked in early and had just enough time to get to the correct hotel with the guests none the wiser. My last land agent problem is that those who book things in detail have no idea of the geography or distances. We took a train at a time decided by the land agent from Settle to Garsdale. I was suspicious this was the wrong train time but as a bus was hired to meet us at the other end I went with it. The bus collected and dropped us off as requested and we walked into Hawes. Sadly there was too little time for a Wensleydale Creamery tour and a sit down lunch. Knowing what I know now I’d have shortened the walk but sometimes you’re in the thick of a cock up when Plan B is impossible to deliver. (In fairness the guests were all on my side by then and I received forgiveness.)

Some things are also just sent to try you. The Queen’s Funeral fell on the Monday of a tour. This shut a number of attractions on the day. Worse was that it shut the cafes for lunch. This meant some itinerary juggling and the creation of a picnic. Where to get sandwiches? And, oh yes, one guest was on a gluten free diet! Knowing this was falling on this date I came armed to the tour with fruit, crisps, thermos flasks, a gluten free loaf and chocolate biscuits. The hotel kindly made the sandwiches and filled my thermos flasks with coffee and fresh milk. However this illustrates the tour ‘starts’ for the guide some days in advance.

Obviously many things got easier on subsequent tours including remembering names of the guests. I had one tour with two Jennys and a Jane. I’m sure that the Jennys got called Jane and Jane Jenny. On the final night I commented that we should have been together for another week, not least, because by the end of week two I would know everyone’s name.

Walking down the rocky path from Malham Tarn I got a call from the ‘office’ asking in a reasonable way about the high hotel bills I was incurring with the guests? I didn’t understand. It turned out that two of the guests, albeit, strangers to each other, should be sharing. You’ll know that there is a premium for a single room supplement. Two guests had simply kept quiet when checking in and the hotel had given them single rooms. I should have known there were sharing guests but my information wasn’t clear and I never thought to ask/check as it’s unusual. I was all for turfing them out of their single rooms immediately but the hotel didn’t have accommodation with two single beds. In this situation the wider good of the party, its bonhomie and atmosphere comes into play and I was told to leave it be. Frankly I was enormously upset at the deception.

I mentioned that the females have a detailed knowledge of what the tour has included and what they pay for. At one castle I entered the ticket office to advise the person behind the counter that the guests would pay for themselves. ‘Ah’, she replied to me, ‘We have written down that we should invoice the land agent’. I thought that was wrong but didn’t have the operator’s brochure to hand to confirm it was wrong. Rather than have an embarrassing stand off with the guests and castle staff I waived them through. Of course checking later I was right and they should have paid and they probably all knew.

I only point out these two issues to highlight that an assumption that the guest is kind and honest could be over exaggerated for the naive and trusting. You’re by yourself as regards the policing of all this when you’re out there leading a tour.

In my last blog I write about the highlights and some of the things the guests might ask you and gratuities (or not).

Following from Part 1 I’ve continued to write about other aspects and experiences of my inaugural year of being a tour guide.

Training

I was ‘selected’ and went through to training because I came across as having an outgoing personality (who could engage with guests), was demonstrably organised, physically fit, appeared trustworthy, had an attention to detail, was customer focussed and displayed some energy/enthusiasm for the tours. This is my conclusion at least! Whilst it reads well then I feel most folk have these attributes. However, you do need some agility and emotional intelligence to ‘read the room’ with a tour party and prevent or resolve challenges.

It started in February with a reconnaissance trip, with other newly hired guides, around Northumberland and very briefly in Yorkshire. We visited the walks, towns and attractions (albeit usually just to the outside of these great buildings.) The days were chilly, wet and bleak and we ended up with a curtailed programme as Storm Dudley blew in and we spent (too) little time in the Dales. The other guides were experienced, with other operators ,and I was the complete newbie. From here there was the plan for me to obtain a Private Hire licence so that I could drive the guests around in a small minibus. This was aborted after starting out to complete the process in Newcastle. You needed detailed street by street knowledge of the Toon to get qualified, I was never going to achieve that. Each council have their own specific requirements and other councils don’t necessarily stipulate this. This meant, this season, I’d be relying on other guides to drive or we’d have to use taxi minibuses.

Two other sets of training were mandated. First was obtaining an Outdoor First Aid Certificate. This was 16 hours of kissing dummies (or cardiopulmonary resuscitation – CPR) in the Peak District. It was a long two days and involved pretending to be half alive rolling in the grass whilst another course member had to establish your cause of injury as you lay ‘comatose’ (avoiding the nettles.) Anyway, I got the Certificate and if problems arise then I’m ‘off Go’ but apart from the responsibility of giving First Aid I’ve come to learn that the paperwork is horrendous if a guest has an episode or accident (on behalf of the tour operators.) I now request all guests mind their feet and take no risks just to protect me from endless form filling (rather then their health.) Some laugh at this but I’m being serious! I learned many things I never knew and in many ways I think all folk should do some First Aid training.

Lastly, I had to complete a five hour online course for one operator. Most of it was about adopting their ethos and procedures. I suppose the issue is that the guest has bought one of their holidays and the operator wants consistency and maintenance of the brand equity. However this was a global operator and so much seemed irrelevant. Having been on similar tours overseas many issues and processes are different and it all seemed ‘box ticking’ as it wasn’t appropriate in the UK. For example the guides were meant to check the accommodation prior to arrival. In a shack in Nepal this seems a good idea but is it relevant with the equivalent of a Premier Inn in Northumberland?

So that was the formal training but separately I must have visited the Dales on four separate occasions to familiarise myself with the sights or experiences eg. Fountains Abbey, Bolton Abbey, Aysgarth Falls, llama walking, location of hotels etc. This is time consuming and personally expensive in terms of car miles (round trip of 120 miles) but it was vital to give that, attempted, seamless experience and to be able to field those inevitable questions.

Guide Guidelines

It was important to develop a good relationship with all the guests and have a decent daily conversation with each one. However, there are inevitably places ‘not to go’ such as politics. Innocently you can be drawn into conversations on Boris Johnson or economic policy! If all that merits a swerve then you also may need to be discreet on your own life. I’m not sure if I was stalked or I let it slip about the blog but one lady kept coming up with cryptic comments about my writing. You have to remember that you spend around 12 hours a day with these folk and keeping mum on everything isn’t easy if they’re inquisitive.

Our old friend GDPR (General Data Protection Regulation) was high on the list of the operator. We were instructed not to share information between guests. So we always sought consent prior to any data sharing. Frankly, the guests had no concern about giving their telephone numbers not only so that we could have a link in case problems arose but also to set up a WhatsApp group. On WhatsApp, which it seemed 90% of the guests already had, we all shared, during the week, photos, restaurant options, menus and occasionally advance notice of coming weather especially if it was wet! Some women start the holiday with the usual ‘I don’t want my photo taken’, ‘bad hair day’, ‘wrong clothes for a photo shoot’, ‘I always look terrible’ etc. So, of course, I respected their wishes but after a couple of days they’re scouring WhatsApp for all the photos and asking to be included. They’ve now worked out it’s a great way of quickly passing the best images on to family and friends and they’ve relaxed to be a bit more confident in the group. Needless to say I quickly deleted all this information post tour.

I always was kept in mind of playing the role of Mr Carson, the butler from Downton Abbey. That is, you’re not part of the group but you are ever present literally opening doors for them as they walk serenely along, answering all sorts of questions with supposed authority, operate as the very personification of discretion, be able to communicate on their level but never let it turn into a conversation where you let slip your wealth or superior travel experiences, be prepared to resolve anything no matter whether it is large or small, attempt to be invisible and whilst you’re ultimately in charge you’re never as important as the guests. Again I know, Tony ‘Humble’ Ives does seem like a long week for me but it wasn’t. You’re working, and as we all do, you adopt different behaviours in a work place.

In my next blog I write about the challenges. There are quite a few!

A good friend, Peter, asked if I was interested in becoming a tour guide? He was recruiting for the ‘land Agent’ he was working for. Land agent? If you were to pick a holiday that included a tour guide then that guide probably won’t work for the company you bought the holiday from but for their contractor or land agent. (The guide is often assumed, by the guest, to be a tour operator employee. Nope.) Peter seemed to have had a good time, got to ride a bike for a week and earned some money. I thought what’s not to like if you had the spare time? I signed up (but I ended up on walking tours!) 

So I thought I might write up a blog after a season of four separate tours in Northumberland and Yorkshire. Friends are always interested (and think they might like the idea of guiding.) There have been a lot of things to learn including the sights/attractions to swot up on, walking routes to know the stiles, streams and hazards and the location of every toilet on a day out! I never had a concern about dealing with the guests. I had been, with Anna, on similar types of holiday in Sri Lanka and South Africa, I knew the type who took these holidays and in many ways they were like me in interests, age, income and fitness. However, the statistics show, it seems that many are single and female. They are between 50 and 70 years old and 61% of my guests were. Of course all the guests were strangers to me to start with and expected a seamless experience from Sunday to Friday. Is that what happened? I thought I’d break down, in a couple of posts, the tours and my journey to competence.

Before we do this then it does beg the question how many guides are my age? Err… not many I expect, the mould seems to chuck out 25 to 40 year olds who are outdoor types and actually live on the money they make. This is difficult I can tell you. This isn’t lucrative but if you want a part time, outdoor job with beautiful scenery and attractions it ticks many boxes. They typically work across many land agents and try and have a full diary during the season. I was happy to have a few weeks work: after all I had my own holidays to fit in!

You need to be fit, able to cope with five or six hours sleep per night, be highly organised, prepared ‘to go the extra mile’, sociable and able to talk with all sorts and not least able to lead and to be agreeably compliant, in the background, but often at critical points confident to be strict. I had been on this type of holiday, had several degrees from the University of Life, knew the parts of England I was working in, I was always eager to learn a new skill and very happy to be outdoors.

The Tours

I had three walking tours that were between five to eight miles worth of walking usually toward or around coastlines, castles, abbeys, waterfalls or in one case, happily, a brewery. The other tour was not as energetic and was focussed on the sights and had better dining and lodgings. The tours were curated between two operators and the guests had paid starting at £1,500 each for the pleasure. It was five nights each time and the size of the parties were four, twelve, eight and five, the low numbers are not lucrative for the land agent but their contractual commitment means they must proceed. (For the guide it was easier to organise a smaller group.) The accommodation was hotels and the day started at around 9am. Nothing on the itinerary started at the hotel and we had to drive to the start of a walk or sightseeing opportunity. Lunch was usually taken at a cafe, always reserved in advance and we’d be back at the hotel around 5pm. Restaurants were pre booked and the guide attended dinner although the rules were that we could have a night off. I didn’t always take mine. 

It was tiring as you’re always thinking ahead, stopping older guests walking out in front of traffic (!), dealing with changes or closures, trying to motivate the stragglers on a walk whilst not delaying the fit walkers who wanted to push on, dealing with hospitality issues such as tables, ordering and organising the bus to drop off or pick up in busy places, sorting out various tickets to the attractions when you arrived. All the time you’re working on creating a happy holiday. On one long walk, without a cafe break, I produced cream cakes much to everyone’s delight or attempted to add something extra to a tour that they call a ‘twist’ and didn’t expect. For example, Barter Books in Alnwick is always such a solution. Frankly despite all your hard work then dry and sunny weather and a well curated tour are the major ingredients for success. After the tour finishes the operator contacts the guests separately and requests the guide is ‘marked/rated’. The land agents pore across the feedback with interest. You’re always having your performance monitored.

In my next blog I’ll highlight some of the training and guidelines to operate by….