I’m several days behind, but I have my reasons.  I’ve got a pair of photo galleries from here and the town next door to share, but I can always get back to them later.  Especially since today is a biking day it’s more important to get it down while it’s fresh in my mind - not that it’s a day we’re likely to forget soon though.

For at least a week we’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop and for me to get sick too.  We’d about concluded that whatever is going on with Rachael it must not be contagious somehow, until last night I finally started feeling off.  This morning it’s confirmed, and I’m definitely experiencing early symptoms of something.

Today is the start of a three stage ride to Fécamp, sixty miles along the coast to the west.  Uncancellable bookings are involved so we decide to plow on even though it’s cold and windy.  In my reading of the forecast it looks like those winds will be generally in our favor.

You’ll recall that Le Tréport is in a remarkable setting, sitting at the base of some of the sheerest, highest chalk cliffs on the French Atlantic coast.  Our ride begins by climbing to the top at about 350 feet in just over a half mile - so naturally most of this gets walked.  As we trudge up the hill we’re mostly focused on the climb and not thinking about the fact that this hill is sheltering us from the offshore wind blowing in.

Once we turn the corner and our road paralleling the cliff straightens out the wind immediately makes its presence known.  We have about another half mile of gradual climbing that slows us down, but after that there’s a drop back near sea level before coming to a second climb that looks nearly as rough as the first one.  After that though the land smoothes out considerably so we just need to get past this first tough bit.

Once we finally reach the crest though and start descending the wind turns ferocious and even frightening.  Even though we’re dropping at about 5% we’re still pedaling and advancing slowly.  And then, only two miles into the ride I get blown off the road.  I’ve checked the Beaufort Scale and it looks like we’re biking into a moderate gale or even a full out gale - that’s the severity at which the scale says bikes start getting blown off the road.

NFW, I quickly conclude and Rachael immediately concurs.  There’s no way we can bike 25 more miles into this, so we turn back.  

It’s still no picnic fighting the wind in this direction, but when we drop down to town we immediately start searching for shelter while we regroup and form a plan.  A coffee shop would be perfect, but the only one in this part of town is closed.  Fortunally Rachael spots an open laundromat which works quite well.

One thing happening here is that I’m really doing quite badly - shaking and hypothermic - and need to get somewhere warm quickly.  I propose that we stay here another three nights and then catch a train to Fécamp at the end of it.  So we head up to the nearby Calais Hotel and are relieved to find they have space for us.

And it’s a fine room too, with a dynamite view of the bay; but I hardly give it a look as I get under the covers and am out most of the rest of the day.  Toward evening I start running a fever so I knock that back with ibuprofen and then keep sleeping.  We’ll think about tomorrow tomorrow.