In Wimereux

September 4, 2024

We’re the only guests in the bar when we enter it for breakfast this morning, and fortunately there’s still no one else here but us and the young woman servicing the scene by the time we leave. Fortunate because she’s our only audience for the day’s bit of embarrassment: in a new lifetime first, both of our 10 minute eggs get spilled and hit the floor just before making it to the table - and they were so close, too! Tragic.

One other thing about this sad story: even though they’d been in the cooker for ten minutes they were both still quite raw so it’s the mess you’d expect to clean up, which I do as the server brings over one set of napkins after another, looking appreciative that we’re not expecting her to do the clean up herself after our fiasco. On the plus side though, besides the limited audience there’s the fact that it’s a tile floor so cleaning up isn’t as bad as it could have been; and since we wouldn’t have discovered they were nearly raw until cracking them open in disgust, they wouldn’t have gotten eaten anyway.

(For your viewing pleasure, imagine a photo of raw eggs splattered on the brick-hued floor. I decided not to interrupt the clean-up project to take a shot, and didn’t think to ask Rachael to.)

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We had great luck with the weather in the U.K. this summer. It really didn’t rain all that often, and when it did the timing was generally to our benefit. In particular we were lucky that the wettest days often came on layovers so we didn’t need to figure out how to travel on them.

So far at least it’s not working out that way now that we’re on the mainland. Today’s weather is reasonable as long as we get an early start and beat the expected afternoon rains, but tomorrow looks to be quite wet again. And of course there’s Rachael’s health status, which still gets low marks this morning after another restless night interrupted by alarming cough spasms. It’s so unusual - she almost never gets sick, and it’s strange too that so far at least she hasn’t passed it on to me.

She’s got enough energy to make it out for a four mile hike up the coast and back, but that’s it. She was late getting started, neglected to take a coat with her for some reason, but wisely turned back in time to make it home dry. She did remember her phone though and used it to take a whole two pictures from the outing, so let’s check out her gallery before moving on.

I feel badly for and concerned about her health of course, but other than expressing my sympathies and offering moral support there’s not that much I can do by hanging around so I head out for the ride I’d mapped out for the day, an out and back to Cap Gris-Nez (Grey Nose Cape), which together with Blanc-Nez, the next cape to the north, have been classified one of the Grand Sites of France. I’d say it’s not quite up there with such other classified sites as Mont Ventoux or Carcassonne or Rocamadour or the Gorges du Verdon, but it is quite scenic and makes for a nice, leisurely morning ride.

And speaking of quests, I see that we’ve seen 19 of the 33 listed Grand Sites so far; so there’s still room to grow and an excuse to keep returning to this spectacular corner of the world.

The ride begins with a modest climb to the next headland north of town, where I stop to admire the grand (but uncited) views up and down the coast.

The view north to our destination, Cap Gris-Nez.

Dropping down the opposite side of the headland past a series of high sand dunes that I could have stopped for a photo of but didn’t, I come to another of France’s 10,000 lesser but still pretty grand sites: Fort Ambleteuse. Built in the late 1600’s and presumably by Vauban, it is beautifully situated at the mouth of the La Slack River. I lean my unlocked bike against a post and walk out on the beach far enough to get a good look at it with the sun at my back, but don’t continue around to view it from the seaward side because I want to be able to see who’s stealing my bike when they ride off with it.

The mouth of La Slack. This photo reminds me of something else I’ve been meaning to mention: it’s quite quiet here now. Summer vacation is over, the hoards have gone.

Fort Ambleteuse. I love all the different textures and colors it shows.

Oh, here are the hoards. It’s not really so quiet after all. The town ahead is Audresselles, where I’ll leave the coast to begin climbing toward the cape.

In a few miles I pass through the small town of Audresselles and leave the coast, gradually climbing for a few miles through the open agricultural land that characterizes Cap Gris-Nez. I’m not surprised by how attractive these miles are because we admired them two years ago on our ride to Calais. We didn’t detour out to the point to see the lighthouse then though so that will be new ground for me.

We’re here at the end of summer. It looks like this bale is escaping the harvest and rolling down to the sea. Stop!

I like that they’re using this bright yellow twine for baling the rolls here. It accentuates the golden glow.

We all have our favorite subjects, don’t we? This is one of mine.

There’s a parking lot at the end of the road, just below the lighthouse. The lighthouse itself isn’t that evocative when it’s seen close up because it’s adorned with an array of dishes and sensors that clutter up its appearance. The views from the point though are excellent; and on the footpath to the viewpoint is a gallery of enlarged photographs of scenes from here and nearby along the coast. Each one is spectacular, a shot I wish I had the technique to produce myself; and now I wish I’d taken the time to photograph them all.

But I didn’t, so now we’re back to just me and my pocket point-and-shoot.

The view south from the point. I’m sure this is one of those spots it would be great to come to in a variety of conditions and seasons.

From there I coast down to the shore on the north side of the point before turning back toward home.

Some flanks on the flank of Cap Gris-Nez.

There’s nothing new on the return ride, so I don’t stop for many shots on the way - mostly because I’ve just been here an hour or so ago, but also because in the meantime the weather has changed on me and I’m in a race to get back before the rains break out.

On the way home now, I stop for a look back at the lighthouse. It looks more inspiring from a distance, especially with that threateningly dark sky as a backdrop.

Cap Blanc-Nez. I was thinking that was a lighthouse out there also, but it’s not that. It’s an obelisk, a monument to the Dover Patrol that kept this part of the channel free of German U-boats during World War One.

It’s a view that inspires me to keep my pace up. Unfortunately I forgot to get a better shot of that flatbed truck stacked with hay bales when I got closer to it.

I make it home dry, Rachael makes it home dry, everybody’s happy - or as happy as we’d be if Rachael’s health were better. It’s good enough though that she has an appetite, so after the rains pass on and restaurants start opening for dinner we walk down to the waterfront. As we do I’m reminded of how much I like Wimereux, especially now when it’s quieter than I imagine it must have been just a few weeks ago - there must be some reason there are so many beach cabins lining the waterfront. We liked it two years GO for one day, we liked it this year for two days, I suspect we’d like it for even longer if we came back again some year.

In Wimereux, after the rains have passed.

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Today's ride: 22 miles (35 km)
Total: 3,711 miles (5,972 km)

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Keith ClassenGreat shots Scott!
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