Day 19: Gosport to Chichester

June 7, 2012

It stormed last night, but we both had our tent behind a protective bush and it is a good tent, so our slumber was peaceful. We got up early and were lucky to hit a calm patch when we could take down our tent and cook some porridge. The calm did not last long, though, and we put on our full storm gear. We set off in blowing rain, which kept it up all day.

We did not need to read the paper to know we were being blasted by wind and rain.

The wind, naturally, comes off the Channel. For us, being blasted by this wind is a bt of a thrill, because it is genuine English Channel foul weather. This was our first time being anywhere near the Channel!

The English Channel, like everything else over here, is dripping with historical significance. In this case, we were at Stokes Bay, from which the D-Day invasion was launched. The Bay is also a spot at which the English have feared invasions landing, and where some defenses have been built.

This memorial at the Gosport waterfront is one of many war memorials we expect to run in to

Portsmouth is a much larger city than Gosport, and is just across a narrow bot of water. A ferry makes the crossing every seven minutes.

We can see Portsmouth's two tallish buildings, but still have to cope with traffic to get to the ferry.

This sail like structure on Portmouth's waterfront is nice, but does not reflect the rest of the town.

Our ferry to Portsmouth. Over 5 pounds for a five minute ride!

Before boarding the ferry we had a brief look at the Gosport waterfront and high street. There is a small garden/park and a yacht shipyard that has been there for a very long time. The high street has gratifyingly almost no cars, but a selection of rather mundane shops.

We cycled up the High Street and down, and on the down bit ran in to George. George cycled the world and was pleased to see some other tourers floating by. Showing off my knowledge of where world cyclists go, I asked if he had been to Ushawaia. Naturally he had, and he wistfully recounted a list of stops from there up South and North America, until we were all nostalgically thinking about Oregon. George used the nickname Jibi, and promised to post a link to some of his photos on our guestbook.

George hailed us on the Gosport High Street. He had cycled around the world three years ago and was very nostalgic to look at two touring cycles.

The ferry afforded a fun if brief view of the Portsmouth harbour. If too brief, we can do it again, since they insisted on selling only a return fare, though in principle you could go the same direction twice. I was a bit taken aback to see my ticket labelled OAP. I have accepted being a "Grampie", but OAP is a bit harsh!

These ferry tickets cover our return as well!

We had made our way to the Gosport ferry without the help of NCN/Sustrans, whose signs had long ago done a vanishing act. However, when we got off on the other side, as if to share in our triumph, Sustrans popped up with a sign. This sign said "22", a route we were not prepared for. There was a "2" somewhere too, in fine print and in brackets. No matter, these were the last signs we were to see for some time!

We asked directions for getting out of town, and were guided in a way that we could quickly see would involve nothing but large roads. We backtracked, and made a run in a different direction. We had picked up a city map and also had the GPS to show where we were. In principle this should have made it all easy. However, the paper map threatened to melt back into pulp in the pouring rain, and we were reluctant to see that the GPS would melt in to. Besides, even had the navigation aids been right out with us, there is no clear bike friendly and direct route out of town. So we muddled about, checking map or GPS when or where possible. Sustrans? Forget Sustrans! They were nowhere to be seen.

Interesting buildings at the Portsmouth waterfront

Along the water beyond the amusement pier are some good looking buildings

We finally got north of town, where the landscape is increasingly dominated by the big motorways. It looked like we would have to take the risk of going on a big A road, when Dodie sniffed out a bike path going our way. Hooray for Dodie!

Dodie gets full marks for finding this way around the motorway. (NCN gets zero marks).

A little way down the path, Sustrans popped up and declared "Route 22"! Yeah, now you tell us. This signage continued exuberantly while there was no question as to where the path went. However when we reached Havant, 22 disappeared. No matter, a sign jumped up declaring route 2. The sign pointed us into the parking lot of a technology park, and then went totally silent. Grrr!

There was no option but to get on an A road. Motor roads at least seem to be adequately marked as to where they go. Kudos to Dodie here again. Threading our way along the merging ramp to the high speed road, flooding (remember, it's bucketing rain for this whole story) had concealed a large hole. No room here to ditch the bike, cars were zooming by in a continuous stream two feet on our right. But Dodie not only held control, she proceeded along the six inches available to us (between a rumble strip on one side and debris covered mud on the other) and with the speeding cars, with great determination.

We took an exit onto a quieter A road, leading to Emsworth. Shazzam! Sustrans popped up with an NCN 2 sign. Well, where have you been, it seemed to smirk. We have been goddam almost been getting killed, where have YOU been, we replied.

The road eventually brought us to the outskirts of Chichester. Though in principle we had our raingear on, this year's rain parkas turned out to be approximately as porous as last year's. So in their turn, the Eddie Bauer company will hear from us. In the short run, it seemed advisable to try for a B&B to dry out. The first two we tried were full, and we proceeded along toward Chichester, unsure as to whether there would be many services available there.

Wow, what a shock! After the lonely (except for 1000's of speeding cars) road, and the fairly nondescript and mostly deserted buildings of Portsmouth, Chichester was dripping with charm and a large cathedral, and absolutely swarming with tourists.

Like country folk arriving in New York City, we bumbled our way through the choked streets. The sun had just decided to come out, but we stumbled soaked into the Tourist Information. We asked them to find us a place to stay. As if!

Their deal was that they charged a fee to even look for a place and then took 10% of the room rate.

We flounced out, and eventually "washed up" at the Premier Inn, just out of town. There was exactly one room left at the Inn. The price, 104 pounds, would buy the largest room in the largest motel in the US. Well here for 104 pounds wifi was extra and breakfast was extra.

Dodie said "Get me out of here, I'll find a campground", but I knew she was delerious. So here we are in a room that costs the same as a new 160 gB ipod, with no wifi or breakfast, and our thoughts about England are a little less glowing than previously.

Speaking about glowing, the sun reacted to the sound of my credit card hitting the counter by coming out in blazing glory. Never believe what you read in the Daily Express, I guess.

Chichester is dripping with charm and swarming with tourists

Today's ride: 47 km (29 miles)
Total: 509 km (316 miles)

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