I slept as well as I usually do on these ferry trips, in the cool little inside cabin. At 6.30am the ferry arrived back in Harwich, and getting up late and not having time for breakfast, I wondered down to the car deck to retrieve the Shift. After very almost wondering under a lowering deck - I somehow misinterpreted the ferryman's frantic waving as a "go forward" - I made it off the ferry without being squashed and weaved my way through the port. Immigration was straightforward and relatively friendly (and no dumb questions like: "what have you been doing" as I wheel a massive touring bike through) and I found myself in early morning, and quite deserted, Harwich.
I made my way slowly to the train station. Harwich seemed rather run down after the neatness of Germany and Holland I'd just been through, and there was the general underwhelming sense of being back in England. It didn't help that the trains were seriously screwed up on this bank holiday, and the next one wasn't for some hours - as a rather drunk, but friendly guy, on the platform informed me. Actually, he was insistent it was Ed Sheeran giving a concert in Ipswich that was the cause of the rail disruption. Though it almost certainly wasn't, I'm happy to blame Ed Sheeran for any of the evils in the world.
I went and sat in a seaside park, and decided to make my own breakfast with my stove to heat coffee. Instead of odd looks, I got hearty greetings from the early-morning dog walkers, and started to feel a bit more warmly towards old Blighty again.
A rather melancholy view out to the harbour in Harwich
After I'd passed some time in the park, I went back to the station to wait. I was joined by another couple of bike tourists from Norwich, who had been touring around France. We shared a few stories, as well as the observation that by the end of the tour we were all much less worried about the bikes being nicked than at the beginning. They did refer to the Shift as a "very nice" touring bike, which gave me a lift. Nice people.
I slowly made my way to London, after buying an outrageously expensive ticket to Bedford - this was the closest I could get to home, as the East coast mainline was closed. I think it cost as much as my whole German journey yesterday. London was reasonably quiet on the Sunday, and I didn't have too much trouble with the traffic making my way from Liverpool St. to King's cross.
The quality of pubs in London remains surprisingly high, even when many other historic buildings and neighborhoods are being replaced
John Betjeman was one of the leading figures that campaigned for St. Pancras to be restored. The statue was unveiled to celebrate the rail link with continent.
The journey to Bedford was as straightforward as it always is, on the broad Thameslink trains where there's always room for bikes. Bedford gets a bad rap sometimes: but it was looking really good in the sunshine. A strange fact about Bedford is that it is home to the millennial sect of the Panacea Society, who believe that Bedford was the site of the Garden of Eden (!) and keep a house ready for the return of Jesus Christ, which will obviously happen in Bedford (!!). On a day like this sunny Sunday, you could almost believe it to be true.
Statue of John Bunyan, of "The Pilgrim's Progress", who was born near and imprisoned in Bedford (in the bridge, apparently).
More arcane stuff from Bedford. I did a massive double-take the first time I saw this. It's actually a swimming pool and leisure centre - now sadly disused!
I cycled back along the cycleway following the Ouse East, back to the Ivel and home. In the water park, formed from the flooded gravel pits and the old rail line that used to follow the river (and that they're now trying to reinstate), I stopped and ate some lunch. As I ate, a guy in a canoe passed by and affably remarked on the weather. He paddled off, but after a few metres, asked if I had a light - he'd dripped his in the river. In fact I did - the lighters I'd been using for my stove the whole time. He lit up and I said he could keep it - I had no further need for it. He was really quite overwhelming with thanks - "what a guy!" was his exact words. Again, it made me feel a bit more warmly to being back in England. Only the English would feel overwhelmed to be given a 50p lighter by a stranger.
My lunch spot by the river Ouse near Bedford. That's the grateful canoeist paddling away - a nice guy!
I slowly made my way through Sandy, and back up the hill away from the river and onto the Greensand ridge, where I live. I'd been through a lot of great scenery over the last couple of weeks - but, you know what, Potton looked pretty good in the soft afternoon sun.
