Day 26: Dover UK to Guines, France: Grampies Invade Europe

June 14, 2012

(Technical note: Although we have a T-Mobile USB modem from the UK, we were mislead about what the T-Mobile offer is for roaming internet on the continent. They have four restrictive options, in which the megabytes you buy at prices up to one pound for 3 mB are wiped out in from one day to 30 days. We will be looking for free wifi and perhaps USB modems in each of the five countries to come. Until then, there is no way to upload our 30 or so photos for today. Here is some of the draft text, though. Stay tuned for more.)

We planned a slow start, to make sure we got our last full English breakfast and to allow time to reload the bikes in a slightly different way. The need for a change in packing came because we selected about 10 pounds of stuff for our first 'mailback'. It turns out we are not actually mailing but stashing with Dennis, who kindly agreed to sit on our stuff for the 90 days until we return to Dover.

We cruised along the now familiar waterfront of Dover, eyeing the cliffs to see if they were now any whiter. Maybe they were, a little.

The man in the ferry office yesterday had told us to follow the red line through to the boat, a system designed to keep bikes and cars apart. As seems usual for British bike paths of any kind, the red line soon dissolved into confusion. Besides, we had to go into a poorly marked and explained office to trade in the 'reservation number' that we got when we bought our 'tickets' yesterday for some sort of boarding pass. Then we proceeded along a roadway with giant trucks to our lane - number 212! There were 246 in total. This terminal makes BC Ferries look like a rowboat operation.

The rowboat impression was amplified as we cycled onto 'our' brand new and giant vessel, the Spirit of France.

We lashed our bikes to a wall and ascended several decks to one that had an outdoor patio with tables and chairs. From there we snapped a shot of some somewhat whiter cliffs to the east, before retiring inside. The interior of the ferry had lots of luxury features. As a British ferry, it had sort of a pub, with beer being dispensed to the general population of all ages. There were couches that you could easily sleep on, a currency exchange, duty free, and various food choices. The sandwiches we bought were what we have come to expect - very high quality.

We found a Michelin road map at 1:150,000 scale, covering Calais to Arras. Getting this map pretty well answered the question of whether we would cycle or train to Arras. With a decent map for guidance we will normally choose to cycle.

On the approach to Calais, we could see the extensive beaches at the town and to the south west of it. It gave a much softer aspect than the unrelenting cliffs of Dover.

So the moment came when the Grampies invaded Europe, finding he ground to be solid and the place to be real.

The differences from the UK, for a cyclist, became immediately apparent as well. Almost immediately we found a broad bike path. Next we found motorists stopping for us as we crossed at cross walks. The overall traffic circulation felt much calmer, and you could hear the foot come off the gas pedal as a car approached from behind. The driver then assessed the situation and if the street was narrow, either hung back or eased past. Wow!

We headed to the centre of town for a little look and to get our bearings. The town hall is a bit removed from the main shopping area, but has a striking tower.

We also hit our first bakery. The baker was interested in our trip, which we explained in our best fractured French. We bought a 'pain aux raisins' type pastry that was labelled an 'escargot'. This refers to the spiral roll of it not the ingredient list, he assured us.

When the time came to leave town, we found the Michelin map did not have detailed enough coverage to find a way through the urban area. We resorted to the GPS, which lead us far enough out that we could pick up our trajectory on the paper map. This happened not a minute too soon, because with Dodie's mistrust of the electronic gizmo, she kept up a constant stream of 'where are we going now?' and 'show me on my map' type questions. I was relieved when at last she did find us on her map, so I and the gizmo could go back into our donkey doze at the back of the caravan.

We had already noticed a few direction signs for camping, and as we entered the countryside around 5 p.m. we decided to call it a day. The site had just us, although a family from North Yorkshire has just arrived, a washroom with shower, and a 17 euro price. Also, and this is a biggy, it had a nice picnic table for us. So now I can type this without lying on my tummy in the tent. A small but appreciated luxury for our first evening in Europe!