Text 1: The long way round Wales, by Megan Price

An original contemporary blog.

Dad said we could cycle from Shrewsbury to the coast in four days. On the map, the route looked almost flat. In reality, the first morning was a steady climb, and our loaded bikes felt heavier with every mile. By lunchtime, my younger brother had a blister and we had covered barely half the distance we had planned.

The rain started as we crossed the hills and stayed with us all afternoon. Our paper route notes turned to pulp in my pocket, so we took the wrong lane and added six miles. When we stopped at a village shop, I discovered that the rear tyre on my bike had split. Dad fitted the spare tube, but the repair took nearly an hour.

On the second day, a road closure sent us along a narrow track. We had to push the bikes through mud, and Mum slipped, bruising her wrist. We reached the campsite after dark, tired and cold. The next morning, the wind was so strong that we could make progress only by taking turns at the front.

We reached the sea a day later than planned. I was glad we had made it, but I was not sorry to see the car waiting to take us home.

Text 2: A passage to the islands, by Edwin Marsh

An original letter written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

In this letter, written in 1872, a young sailor describes a passage from Liverpool to the Western Isles with a cargo vessel.

Dear Thomas, We left Liverpool on Tuesday, but the headwind kept us outside the bay until Thursday morning. The captain had hoped to make the islands in four days; after a week we were still far from our destination.

The sea rose sharply on the second night. Two barrels broke loose and struck the side of the hold, and we spent hours securing them. I could not keep a meal down while the ship pitched, though the older hands seemed used to it. The rain found its way through a seam above my bunk, and my blankets were wet by dawn.

When the wind eased, we found that the small boat used to reach the shore had been damaged against the ship’s side. We waited at anchor for a carpenter to mend it. Later, thick mist hid the headland, so the captain would not risk sailing between the rocks. We lost another day before we could continue.

My hands are raw from hauling ropes, and I have slept little since we left. The islands are finally in sight, but I shall be glad to stand on dry ground again.