When we arrived home in 2019, after 6 weeks on the road that summer, we had no way of anticipating what the world and our personal lives were about to face. We’ve lived a lot of lifetimes in five years, but that life and the experiences kept us close to home. Venturing out to the UK is no small feat for us as we learn to curate joy alongside grief. We’re proud that we are making our way across an ocean again in search of new places and old pubs.
The pandemic was an obvious crush to any movement beyond our homes. We had gathered a lot of beer to share with friends during the 2019 pub crawl, only to find ourselves with a lot of beer to drink in person, and all of our friends on Zoom. We (mostly Jeff) drank the beer throughout 2020 from our front porch and throughout the revision of our yard. We found solace outside drinking “yard sodas” as we moved dirt, Jeff created beautiful new patios, and I planted thousands of seeds.
Then, in April 2022, we lost our son Nick. Two days later, our daughter Ashley would learn she was pregnant with Evelyn. Like I said: a lot of lifetimes, particularly in a few short months of 2022. We got a crash course in grief and joy, learning to let the waves of emotions fill us up. We miss Nick viscerally. We’ve managed the grief, especially in that first year and into the second, by staying close to home. For a long time, venturing out, especially apart from each other, was not possible. Staying home is sweet: there is nothing but gratitude for the days spent with our granddaughter, Ms. Ev, watering plants together and watching the cherry tree bloom that Nick gifted me a few weeks before he died. He is with us everyday and will no doubt be carried with us across this trip.
Visiting the UK includes a pilgrimage to pay respects to my grandfather’s grave and visit the site where his plane, Nature’s
Nymph, went down. My paternal grandfather, Charles Peck, was 25 when the B-24 liberator crew he was part of crashed at the Corner Farm in Rumburgh, a few miles short of the airfield where he was stationed in Bungay. The pilot and co-pilot parachuted to safety, but the rest of the Zellerbach crew was lost on that day, June 7, 1944. D-Day. My dad was 6 months old. In the 1960’s, while stationed in England, my dad was able to visit his father’s grave in Cambridge, but it’s long over due for another family visit to pay our respects.
While researching the Corner Farm crash site, we learned that there are two such farms within miles of each other. At first, I found the wrong site. An incredible woman named Jane, who owns a B&B on the site of the Corner Farm in Halesworth, was able to point me to the correct location of the Corner Farm in Rumburgh. She went a step further by driving down the road and knocking on the door where she met Mrs. Harris. To our luck and astonishment, Mrs. Harris, who is now in her 80’s, was a child when the plane crashed on her family’s farm and has invited us to visit. She offered to take us to the small parish church where there is a memorial to the crew as well. This will be an incredible part of the journey; I look forward to learning about her and her family. I can only imagine what a profound and tragic time she lived through.
As we planned the rest of the weeks of our trip, imagining how we might travel and where we wanted to stay, we were initially torn between train travel and renting a car. The small village of Rumburgh made a car necessary, so we’ll get a chance to experience a drive through Suffolk. The rest of the time will be spent on the various trains across England and 
Scotland. What finally sold the train for me was the reminder from Ashley that she and her brother love train travel. While Jeff and I took off on summer road trips, our adult children jumped on a train to Santa Barbara to see the Barry McGee exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art. One of many trips for them spent up and down the west coast. Nick once called me from the outskirts of Dunsmuir where his train had been stopped due to debris on the track. He was making the journey home for the holidays and had stepped off the train on a clear, starry winter night into fresh snow and pine trees. He recounted how breathtaking the view and how profound the silence was on that winter night. He was so happy on a train, on a road trip, on an epic adventure. Nick will love that we’re seeing the landscape by train. Thank you to Ashley for the reminder and for encouraging us to choose the adventure.
As we travel from London, to Cambridge, to Rumburgh, to Cromer, to York, to Edinburgh, to Oban, to Glasgow, to Carlisle, to Nuneaton, to Richmond, and home, we hope you’ll follow along. You can find the detailed plans (so far) on The Route page. We welcome recommendations for places to see and pubs to spend time in. Since I’m on sabbatical this fall, we set off September 9; we will share our journey along the way. Cheers all around.