Most guides will give you a list of stops, a map, and a timetable. Useful, but a bit dull. Liverpool deserves better than that. The City Explorer bus sees the capital of culture from a front-row seat every single day, carrying thousands of visitors past its greatest landmarks. So what if the bus could tell its own story? What if it could share a typical day from its point of view?
Climb aboard! This is sightseeing in Liverpool through the eyes of the City Explorer itself!
A Day in the Life of a City Explorer Bus
It’s still early when my headlights flicker awake in the City Explorer garage. Around me, my fellow buses are snoozing, their engines ticking softly in the half-light. But not me. I’m wide awake, tyres tingling, impatient to hit the road. Today, I get to do what I love best: take a fresh set of travellers on a whistle-stop tour of Liverpool.
My driver gives me a once-over: tyres checked, mirrors polished, seats tidy. The guides are already swapping jokes, warming up their voices. Then comes that magical moment: the turn of the key, the rumble of my engine, the gates sliding open. I roll out into the morning air, ready to greet the city.
Next stop: Royal Albert Dock, where a queue of eager faces will be waiting to climb aboard.
Pier Head and the Three Graces
I glide towards the waterfront, where the Royal Liver Building, the Cunard Building, and the Port of Liverpool Building stand tall. My guide tells the story of the Liver Birds perched on top, one looking out to sea for sailors, the other watching the city.
Legend has it that if they ever fly away, Liverpool will fall. I’ve heard it more times than I can count, but it never fails to raise a smile.
Cameras pop, scarves flutter, and I slow down so everyone gets their perfect shot. A family waves at me from the ferry across the Mersey. We’re old friends, you know, me and that boat. Friends with benefits, you could say. The benefit being that I don’t have to get my tyres wet.
The Cavern Quarter
My next stop is near Mathew Street. As soon as the words ‘Cavern Club’ are mentioned, the Beatles fans practically sprint off my steps. They disappear into the narrow street, ready to soak up the place where the Fab Four cut their teeth. I’ve delivered thousands here over the years, from die-hard fans humming ‘Hey Jude’ to curious day-trippers who just want to see what the fuss is about.
While they’re away, I rest my wheels and listen. Even when I’m idling, the music drifts over: guitars, laughter, the clink of glasses. Eventually, the passengers return, carrying vinyl records, T-shirts, and a certain sparkle in their eyes.
St George’s Hall and the Cultural Quarter
By late morning, I’m pulling up outside St George’s Hall, one of Liverpool’s grandest buildings. My guide always points out the pillars and statues with a touch of drama, like a theatre stage. Just across the road, the museums and libraries stand proudly, and the Walker Art Gallery guards some of the finest paintings in the country.
Some of my riders hop off to wander through the galleries. Others stay put, content to gaze at the city as it slides past my windows. I don’t mind either way. I’m built for both: the quick glance and the deep dive.
The Cathedrals
After a quick loop, we’re heading uphill. The Anglican Cathedral rises ahead of me, a tower of red sandstone that makes even me feel small. Inside, its vaulted ceilings echo with whispers and footsteps. Not far away, the Metropolitan Cathedral dazzles in the sunlight, its crown-like roof glowing with colour.
I adore this stretch of road because it’s here that passengers always gasp. Some had no idea Liverpool had such spectacular cathedrals. The street between them, Hope Street, feels like a bridge between traditions, and the Georgian houses add to the charm.
Many choose to step off here for lunch at the Philharmonic Dining Rooms, a pub so ornate it looks more like a palace than a place for a pint. I hear their stomachs rumble as they disappear inside, and I know they’ll be back looking very content indeed.
The Bombed Out Church
In the afternoon, I roll past one of Liverpool’s most poignant landmarks: St Luke’s Church, better known as the Bombed Out Church. Roofless since the Blitz, it stands as a memorial and a cultural hub. I always slow my pace here. Even my engine seems to quieten, as if paying its respects. Passengers take photos, but also pause. It’s that kind of place.
The Baltic Triangle
Not far away, the mood changes. The Baltic Triangle is alive with murals splashed across brick walls, independent cafés buzzing with chatter, and street food sizzling in the air. My younger passengers lean over the side, pointing out street art and snapping photos of hidden corners. It’s raw, creative, and utterly modern Liverpool.
Some hop off here, eager to try craft beer or street tacos. I don’t judge. I’ve seen a lot of afternoons end with a cheeky pint.
Back to the Dock
As the day winds down, I make my way back to the Royal Albert Dock. The museums are still open, the Tate Liverpool welcomes late wanderers, and the wheel spins gently in the twilight. My passengers disembark with tired legs, shopping bags, and the kind of smiles that only a full day of sightseeing in Liverpool can give.
I switch off my engine and rest. Another day done. Tomorrow, I’ll wake again, ready to share my city with a new crowd. I know the streets by heart, yet each ride feels different because Liverpool never stands still.
That’s the joy of being me: a City Explorer bus, guardian of stories, carrier of memories, and guide to one of the greatest cities in the world.
