The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
LOST & FOUND
A malfunctioning satnav forced Ash Bhardwaj to plot a more scenic route to Chester – where he stumbled across some family history
Now, I’m quite the expert in getting lost, and I am happy to admit when it’s my fault. But, on this occasion, the blame lay squarely with a Californian tech giant.
I was with my mum, driving along the M6 to Chester, when the disembodied female voice of Google Maps piped up. The voice told me to continue straight on, but the graphic on the display pointed towards the exit. This wasn’t the first time that the app had confused itself, so I did what had worked last time, and followed the voice instead of the graphic.
As soon as I’d passed the exit, the app’s estimated arrival time jumped by 30 minutes. Then 45 minutes. The map started spinning around, highlighting one slip road after another. The voice started issuing directions, only to cut herself off, issue new directions, and then change her mind and start again. I sighed, left the motorway at the next exit, and pulled into a lay-by. I had failed to plan my journey through to the end, and was now paying the price. I was lost. Which meant that I had an opportunity.
We were in the middle of the countryside, heading in the direction of Wales. The sun had come out and I was miles off course already, so I pulled out a map and plotted a route to Chester along the A-roads of Shropshire. Early summer was in full pomp, with fluffy white clouds hanging over distant mauve mountains. Conker trees carried candelabras of blossom, laburnums blazed yellow, and hawthorns were so covered in white flowers that they looked frozen. We spotted birds of prey hovering above green fields, and rhododendron added streaks of pink and purple to the scene.
We enjoyed the journey so much that we extended it, dipping into Wales to visit Holt, Rossett, Pulford and Dodleston. By the time we arrived in Chester, the frustrations of our course-correction were forgotten, and getting lost had become a wonderful adventure.
My mum was born in Cheshire, and moved south when she was three. I had spent time tracing my Scottish and Indian family histories, but had neglected my English heritage out of complacency. Mum had been unwell at the beginning of the year, and the burden of lockdown had not helped. So while she was between cancer treatments and feeling good, she wanted to do as much as possible. A visit to Chester was at the top of her list.
International tourists tend to overlook Chester in favour of other historical towns, such as Bath, York or Windsor. That is a tragedy because it is
one of the best-preserved cities in England. The cathedral is 1,000 years old, and the medieval city walls are almost entirely complete, with sections that date back to the Roman era.
Chester was originally lined up to be the Roman capital of Britain, and the layout of the city centre dates back to their occupation. We stayed at Enjoy The Pause, a renovated Victorian terrace, five minutes from the city centre, and it only took us 20 minutes to walk to the other side of town. Mum uses a wheeled walker to get around these days, and I was surprised at how good the level of accessibility was in the city, despite the cobbled pavements.
The city centre is also traffic-free, and one positive side effect of the pandemic is the increase in alfresco dining. Cafes and restaurants are allowed to have tables on the streets (not just the pavements) which makes the whole place feel like it was designed for humans, not cars.
We passed the magistrates court, where my grandma had worked as a stenographer, and stopped at her favourite chapel in the cathedral. For Mum, this was the highlight of her trip, as it helped her think about grandma as a young woman.
On our day of departure, I went for a morning run. After my previous altercation with Google Maps, I decided to follow my instincts and head south along the walls.
Of course, I got lost, and when I finally stopped to catch my breath, it was at a bench between the river and Grosvenor Park. In the shade of a nearby tree I spotted some white flowers. I bent down and saw that they were lilies of the valley; my grandma’s favourite. I’d stumbled across a link to my heritage, after all.