July 28, 2018
Getting Home
I woke up fairly late, and took my time packing up. I got everything together, and then attempted to pay for my night. I did wonder if they wouldn't be pleased about me just rocking up and camping - but they couldn't really complain if I did the honest thing. In the event, it was no problem at all - it must happen quite a lot.
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That took 10 euros, and I had precisely 7 left in my wallet. I really needed something for breakfast, so decided to head into De Panne proper, a slightly odd built-up beach resort that's part of the Belgian riviera (and was the only part of the country not occupied during WWII). I stopped in at a really charming little cafe which did however prominently have a sign showing cards were not accepted, and very carefully ordered 7 euros worth of coffee and cake.
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I then had a complete navigational screw-up as I tried to get into France. Even repeatedly checking my compass, I managed to go the wrong way and started heading East down the Belgian coast. I had to back-track through De Panne, where I was rather shocked by the dodgy driving on display after coming from Germany - after almost being side-swiped by a car randomly entering the bike lane, I chose to ride right in the middle of the lane to stop it happening again.
I had a devil of a job getting into France. Again, unlike Germany the cycle infrastructure is very inconsistent. There were just no signs to indicate the way across the border, which surely is a pretty major destination. I had done the ride both ways 7 years ago, but nothing looked familiar (and a lot had changed) - I ended up cutting across a wheat field and cycling on a major road for a while before I got into France.
Approaching Dunkerque from the East, the suburbs seem to go on forever. I rather wearily pushed through them, with my aim to get out the city, and onto the long spit that connects it to the port (and so allows you to avoid the massive oil refinery complex). It had been easy to find on the way out when I went to Luxembourg before, and other than getting stuck because a cargo ship was passing a lift bridge, it was the best way to get back as well.
But I had no idea this time. My maps and the signs weren't going to help me, and I kept getting lost around areas of dodgy semi-regenerated harbour. Eventually I cut my losses and decided to just go through the industrial region.
The route West to the port from Dunkerque is appalling. Apart from being stunningly unattractive (not to mention smelling of tar) it is dominated by the dual carriageway, there are few cycle signs, and when there is cycle infrastructure it is half built and dangerous (lamposts in the middle of the road, massive curbs..). It went on forever, me following the car signs to the port around endless roundabouts and the occasional bike sign. After far, far further than I had experienced before - I had over 40km on the clock! - I completely lost patience when the so-called cycle path dumped me by a dual carriageway with a clear "no cycling" sign. I completely ignored it, and eventually did find my way to the God-forsaken port. The wind was whistling across the huge expanse and it, too, felt like the end of the world.
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The Dunkerque-Dover ferry is notorious in that it allows no foot passengers, but it does allow cyclists. This has even led to a comical situation where stranded foot passengers buy junk bikes just to be allowed on. As I was queuing up, I noticed a rather tall fellow on what was plainly a girl child's bike - let's hope that this is what happened here.
After a frustrating time trying to get food out a vending machine - I was really hungry now, I finally got on the ferry. It was only a 2 hour crossing, but I hit up the restaurant and had a pretty good meal.
There were a smattering of other cycle tourists on board. Two were riding similar machines to my Shift, and had the exact same panniers - except they'd been bleached pale by the sun. Their bikes were covered with destination stickers, and it soon became clear they were returning from a round-the-world tour.
After we disembarked in Dover, there was some confusion in how we cyclists could get out - and then there was a photographer waiting for them. I left them to their celebration, and got out the port.
Of course, it took me much of the rest of the day to wend my way back to Bedfordshire. There was no hurry though - and I was happy to be back and with a day to spare.
Today's ride: 50 km (31 miles)
Total: 1,281 km (796 miles)
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