To Harwich

August 24, 2024

We were lucky with the weather yesterday, but that’s not the case this morning. As expected, it’s raining when we wake up and looks like it will continue throughout the day, with hourly precipitation estimates ranging between 90 and 100 percent. There’s the potential that it will ease or stop around six this evening, but that’s too late to be much use to us - it’s about a twenty mile ride and boarding commences at 8:30.

So Plan B gets placed on the operating table and I start looking for trains to Harwich. Trains leave hourly, take about an hour and terminate at the port right across the street from the ferry terminal. Ideal, except that there are no eating facilities there so the issue is how to plan our day. Hanging out at the hotel until 11, having lunch somewhere in Ipswich before catching an afternoon seems most sensible to both of us so I turn to making a train booking.

I can’t book a train - not in midafternoon or at any other time today. The website says that reserving space for the bikes is required, there’s space for 6 bikes on each train, but they’ve all already been claimed throughout the entire day. It takes me awhile to figure out what’s happening, but the situation is that there’s a transfer involved. The first train is a through train from Norwich to London, and that’s the one requiring bike reservations. It’s Saturday and a main line, so maybe it’s no big surprise that it’s booked up.

The second leg from Manningtree to Harwich is a short spur that takes bikes without reservation, so there’s a possibility there. We could bike to Manningtree, which is only about a dozen yucky, wet, windy miles away; but we want better so I keep digging and come up with the best of the bad options. There’s a train to Felixstowe, on the coast just a couple of miles from Harwich - but they’re wet ones, impeded by the wide mouth of the merged Stour and Orwell Rivers. There’s a pedestrian ferry for that though that takes bikes (which I knew already because this is the route we planned to take if we were biking). So we’ve got a plan, Ipswich to Harwich in five easy pieces:

Hang around the Premier Inn until it’s time to check out;
Bike a half mile to the Ipswich station and take the train to Felixstowe.
Bike three miles to the terminal for the ferry to Harwich, and hide out at the cafe there until it’s time for our foot ferry to sail.
Hole up in a cafe at the other end of the foot ferry for the rest of the afternoon, until the day hopefully dries up.
Bike the three miles from there to the international port for our sailing to Holland.

Nothing easier! What could go wrong?

Well, one thing that could go wrong is that the foot ferry might not be sailing today because of weather conditions, which I know from prior research sometimes happens. I check their website and am relieved to see that we’re in luck. It says they were down each of the last two days due to high winds but are back on schedule starting this morning. To be on the safe side I book space for us on an early afternoon sailing, so that if somehow it’s not sailing after all we’ve still got time for Plan C whatever that is. Then I make a train reservation for two hours before that, so that if we miss the train there’s still a second shot.

At 10:30 we leave the hotel and bike the half mile to the Ipswich station, and catch the train. Other than for the fact that it’s lightly raining for the bike ride and the fact that because the tires are wet the bikes slip and fall over on the train unless we sit next to them and hold them for the entire journey, everything goes to plan so far.

On the train to Felixstowe, the bikes behaving themselves nicely until the lurch from departure causes one to slide down.

The three mile ride to the foot ferry goes without incident, unless you count a little rain - and the fact that there’s no covered space anywhere around when we get there so we lean the bikes against the leeward side of the cafe hoping they won’t get too wet while we partake in second breakfast and wait for our ship to arrive.

I’m really startled when I see the ferry arrive for the crossing the one before ours. Alarmed because it’s so tiny! It’s no wonder they don’t sail in foul conditions, and we’re lucky they’re sailing today. And I’m glad we made reservations, or we might not be getting on if we just showed up.

An hour later we head for the bikes as soon as we see the ferry approaching again way out in the bay. We almost wait too long though and really have to scramble to get to the boat in time. When we do we’re surprised to see that boarding is on a plank right on the beach, which is down about a five foot soft sandy cliff. Fortunately the boat crew are great. We take off the panniers and then hand them and the bikes down the cliff to them and they do the rest.

And we’re really glad we’re inside and not biking the whole way from Ipswich.

I wouldn’t want it said that we didn’t see any of Harwich while we were here.

The crew are great at the other end too, helping us lift the bags off and then handing up the bikes before boarding the next set of passengers and almost immediately leaving again.

So, three steps done and the plan is going off without a hitch. The cafe at this end is great. They’re fine with us hanging out and occupying one of their few tables all afternoon as long as we intend to have dinner with them later in the afternoon. They have some decent snacks in the meantime, they have good WiFi, and they have beer. Life is good.

We’ve been there for an hour or so when a woman comes in, her clothes dripping heavily from the six mile walk she took to the international ferry terminal and back just because it sounded like a good idea at the time. She’s chatty, personable and interesting, and it helps pass the time for most of an hour until it’s time for her to catch the foot ferry back to Felixstowe.

What’s her name, an interesting Brit from the Midlands who expatriated to Oz twenty years ago.

It’s those kids that crossed in the ferry with us three hours ago! It looks like they’re just over for a fun day at the seashore.

A bit later the quiet cafe suddenly fills up with a crowd of beefy, boisterous guys that look like a crowd you’d see carousing on the wrong side of Benidorm if they had their shirts off and their guts hanging out. It looks like they’re over here for a sporting event. As abruptly as they came in though they all flush out the door and head for the foot ferry. Its hard to believe that they’ll all manage to cram onto that tiny boat, but somehow they make it.

It looks like a refugee ship. I hope it doesn’t sink!

We wrap up step 4 of our five step plan by ordering and eating dinner, and then around six we head for the bikes for the three mile ride to the international port. That will get us there well earlier than we need, but it looks like we have about a dry hour if we leave now. So we do.

I’ve just got time for a quick shot or two while Rachael finishes packing up.

And then, a mile into the ride I suddenly realize I’m not wearing my rucksack that I set down on the deck outside the cafe while I mounted our panniers. That would be the same rucksack that has my phone in it. And my wallet. And both iPads. And our passports. Gasp!! As it is, we’re lucky I realized it as soon as I did. It occurred to me because while I was biking I was thinking ahead to boarding later and needing to get the passports out. we could have just as easily gotten in the whole three miles before discovering it had been left behind.

It’s a grim mile as we race back to the cafe, both thinking of all the horrors this will unleash on Team Anderson if we’re out of luck. We are in luck though - it’s still there right where we left it, untouched. Another near death experience averted. Fortunately the cats in Team Anderson have 18 lives between them, but they must be running low by now.

Other than the dread and anxiety this caused, the wasted miles also set us back on the clock so that we’ve used up more of our dry window. We arrive dry, but barely. We’re just settling in at the waiting room when Rachael tells me to look out the window. There’s been a cloudburst, less than five minutes after our arrival.

So imagine if it hadn’t been until now that we realized we were missing that rucksack! A frantic six mile ride in a downpour would be agony. And it wouldn’t be a surprise to arrive and find out the iPads were fried from the rain. It makes my stomach turn thinking about it.

But we’re here! Nothing to do now but sit around for another two hours waiting for boarding to commence. While we wait there’s some chitchat with other bikers waiting to board, and I take the time to switch the mirrors back to the left side again and keep an eye out the window for the developing sunset.

Another two hours like this. Its been a real hurry up and wait kind of day.

England shows us its finest on our way out the door.

There’s a whole train of bikers - maybe thirty riders - queued up to board when the time finally comes. The Harwich port handles the situation well. They’re very accommodating to cyclists, giving them clear instructions and their own boarding lane, and we all train on together before the cars begin boarding once we’re given the green light. It’s just a bit nerve wracking though, because it involves biking up a fairly steep corkscrew ramp and then dropping down the other side - in a crowd, on a wet deck with wet tires. Stressful, but there are no mishaps; and fifteen minutes later we’re letting ourselves into our cabin with the disposable scanning key to our room we were given when we boarded. We’re on board!

Fortunately it’s not as wet as it looks while we await our turn at passport control.

The end of an excellent, well conceived plan, if not one perfectly executed.

Today's ride: 9 miles (14 km)
Total: 3,463 miles (5,573 km)

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Suzanne GibsonCongratulations! You made it!
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2 months ago

Carolyn van HoevePhew!
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2 months ago