Day 122: Bray-Dunes, France to Dover, UK: Grampies Evacuate at Dunkirk

September 18, 2012

The North Sea coast from Netherlands on down to Dunkirk/Calais is pretty rough cycling territory. There is the possibility of strong headwinds, and good cycleways are not really in evidence.

In the vicinity of Bray-Dunes as we set out this morning, we could see that there were three roads paralleling the coast. None of these, though, either had a good shoulder or were free enough of traffic. So we struggled along under rather unpleasant conditions.

What's more, it turned out to be 12 km from Bray-dunes until we spotted a boulangerie. It kind of deflated our image of cycling in France, though we recognize that this coast is a special case.

The coast is of course special anyway. The beaches here are super - lots of sand, in long unobstructed sweeps. Consequently there is a lot of development around it, and the roads are rather big and busy.

The other special part of this coast is the fact of the 1940 Operation Dynamo, in which the British expeditionary force plus remaining French forces were evacuated. This is usually referred to as the evacuation at Dunkirk, but in fact it took place not only from the harbour but all along the beaches. We were surprised to see (since it was low tide) the remains of ships sunk at that time, just offshore as we cycled against the wind along the dunes.

A Dunkirk beach monument to defending soldiers

A plaque describes what happened here in 1940

Dunkirk harbour is in the distance, but evacuations happened here

The D60 at Leffrinckoucke is not too bad, but it gets worse

We had been reveling a bit in the idea that there is a ferry from Dunkirk, something that would save us cycling all the way back to Calais. For some reason we assumed that "Dunkirk" for the ferry meant that it would leave from the town, which actually had been the case at Calais. When we got to Dunkirk, we expected to find some signs for the ferry, but nothing like that was to be seen. We asked a policeman where to find the ferries, and were dismayed to see his puzzled look. "Ferry to where?" he asked. "Dover". "Dover?"

We have become used to people only knowing anything about their local area, like within a 10 km radius, but usually we somehow expect police to have a broader world view - like maybe 15 km. As it turns out, we were 16 km from the terminal, so that is why we had no hope of any guidance.

The GPS (which we pulled out to solve the mystery of the Dunkirk ferry) showed a convoluted route, through big looking roads with lots of roundabouts. We were puzzling over this on a street corner, when Dodie noticed we were in front of a tourist information. We must have now moved inside the 15 km magic zone, because the tourist information was able to trace out what they said was the only vaguely safe route.

The route passed through the industrial/port area and along the dunes. Finally it seemed to peter out. We switched then to a set of instructions we had recorded from Google Maps, but those soon came to nothing. In the end we bumped along a ragged path by the dunes, not really sure if we would reach a dead end or barred gate. Fortunately, the path popped out at the ferry terminal.

We had expected hundreds of cars, but in fact there were mainly big trucks. We lined up with the few cars and went through.

We had been a bit worried about being over the 90 day limit for the Shengen zone, but none of the officials seemed to pay any attention to it. We didn't see them counting days on their fingers, and none said anything. The closest we came was when the UK border control was asking UQs and casually inquired how long we had been cycling in Europe. Dodie cleverly just said "about three months". No problem.

As we lined up to board the ferry, we were joined by two boys n bikes from Damme, in Belgium. They confirmed how hard it had been to find and reach the terminal. At least we had not dreamed it, or made things harder than necessary by missing he obvious cycle superhighway!

The St Eloi church in dukirk looks really old, but actually the facade is from the late 1800's

Just beside the church the town is very ordinary. There are only a few special looking buildings overall (that we saw)

Our route passed 15 kms of industry. This typical fisherman (typically sitting and catching nothing)does not seem concerned by the industrial waters

Our final path to the ferry. For a bit it seemed the ferry would come and pick us up!

So it was that we left Europe, with some struggle, at Dunkirk.

On board the ferry we paid the exhorbitant prices and got some lunch. The ferry company is British, and we noticed right away that there were more vegetables on the plate than we had grown accustomed to in Europe. A bit strange - a superior aspect of British cooking.

Off the ferry in Dover, we and the Belgian boys joined the wild melee that is the ferry terminal and approaches. It was good that we already had the experience of being there before, so we could edge ourselves away from the autoroutes and big trucks, and finally into the town.

The guest house by the bike shop had bobbled our reservation, but found us a nice spot at St Martins Guest House, on the road to the Dover Castle. Wow! This place has a table and chairs and light and power - all our treasured features, plus also a bed. Crazy!

After a while we sallied out to The Eight Bells, the pub that had become our favourite. We ordered (at the bar) bangers and mash, and fish and chips, with mushy peas. For dessert (pudding) it was apple raspberry crumble, and cappuccino. The cappuccino was huge - could probably even fill the cycling thermos. England, we're baack!

Today's ride: 50 km (31 miles)
Total: 6,496 km (4,034 miles)

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