Got up nice and early so I could finish the cleaning – first the bathroom then the kitchen.  It took me a few tries to get the clothes-line to collapse – turned out to be really easy once you lift the catch that holds it up.  I even called over the fence to Lyn, who said she’d come over in a few minutes and have a look but by then I’d figured it out.

Yesterday Lyn had mentioned that she and Philip were taking a coach into Wales with a ‘social group’ of friends today and had asked if I’d like to come.  I would have loved to – I’ve been watching a series on canal travel by Prunella Scales (Sybil Fawlty) and her husband and they’ve been going all over England and other places on canal boats – the one I watched just yesterday was set in Wales and featured the Llangollen canal which crosses a river via an aqueduct.  That’s exactly where the coach trip is going to go, and I would have loved to join them – maybe next time!

I gave all of the food out of the fridge to Lyn and Philip, took out the garbage and recycling, and was on my way to the train station before 11:00.  The train was right on time – the first one was very new and clean, and almost empty. The second one, when I changed in Bristol, wasn’t. Well – it was clean enough, but not that new, and so crowded I had to stand up next to my bike almost the entire way to Portsmouth.  It was also sweltering hot, unless someone kept pushing the button to open the door into the carriage, which had air conditioning – then it diminished from sweltering to merely very hot.

Just before we left Bristol, when there were already three bikes crammed into the small space allocated, 3 or 4 more cyclists rushed up and asked if there was room – unfortunately no way.  I’m glad I as one of the first ones there – I think the latecomers did manage to squish on somewhere further down, although I don’t think there was another proper ‘bike carriage’.

 

I arrived in Portsmouth in plenty of time so rode around the centre a bit and had a bite to eat on a bench in front of a fountain.  The ride to the ferry wasn’t very far and I then had a bit of a wait. I checked at the desk, and they said I could probably go thru the initial security around 8:00.

I thought I’d maybe have a coffee on the upper level while I waited so walked my bike across the entire terminal to the elevator at the other end.  Just as I pressed the button to call the elevator I heard a voice calling ‘Miss! Miss!’ So I turned to see a ferry worker behind a counter gesturing to me.  He asked where I was going with the bike and I told him to get a coffee while I waited, to which he answered ‘you can’t take a bike up there – you shouldn’t even have it in the terminal’.  I said ‘What? Really? It’s not like a train station? You can take them everywhere there’. He said that no – it wasn’t like a train station (with no hint of humour, I might add). I asked where I could put the bike and he said there’s a bike rack back out the front door and to the left (where you can’t see them).  I asked if it was safe there and he said that it’s pretty safe – things do get nicked from time-to-time, but there’s a security guard that does his rounds so the risk isn’t too great. The security guard was crossing the floor of the terminal at the time and as I was walking the bike back to go outside he intercepted me and told me I could actually take it out the side door and lock it to a cement structure right in front of the waiting room window where I could see it from.  I thought that was a much better solution so that’s what I did – luckily my lock is quite long and just fit around the cement thing.

Just after 8:00 I headed to the first security booth, on the very far side of the lineup area.  I went to the front of the line, along with the other bikes and we didn’t have to wait too long for the booth attendant to get us going.  We showed out passports and boarding passes and were given stickers with our names on to attach to our bikes.

We rode to the next waiting area and were there for quite a while.  By the time they opened the next security gate there were nine of us altogether, including a father, son, and daughter – she’s only nine but is pretty serious about cycling.  This is their third trip – the first two had been to the Netherlands. Another fellow, Cary, is by himself – he planned the trip with a friend but the friend fell and broke his wrist a week ago so he’s doing the trip alone.

We were directed around the corner and each of had to take one of our bags off our bikes and go into a security room.  The bags were put thru an xray machine, just like at an airport – and since I’d brought my camera case in that went thru as well.

We were all cleared quickly and then rode onto the ferry, where we had a nice side room for the bikes, with rope to use to tie them securely to rails.  Since the area seemed pretty safe, and everyone else was leaving most of their bags I only took my camera, my jacket and blanket – in a green plastic bag – up with me.  At the door to get to the stairs we encountered another security person, who looked inside my camera case and the other bag – by far the most security I’ve ever been thru at a ferry.

Two decks up I checked out what’s showing at the two on-board cinemas – thought it might be nice to see Ocean’s 8 at 11:00 – then went to the area where the overnight lounge chairs are (that they make you reserve and pay for).  The chairs are worse than airplane chairs and are very closely packed – think I’ll pass again and do like I did on the journey over.

I next went another two decks up and headed to the bar to get some red wine and parked myself in a nice large leather chair next to the sofa I planned to sleep on later.  I hadn’t been there long when an older lady (Pauline) asked if she could sit on the sofa, and we started chatting. A few minutes later her daughter (Lorraine) joined us and we all had a great time talking.  I quickly decided that I could watch the movie some other time and stayed to talk with the ladies.

After awhile one of the other cyclists, Cary, was walking by so I waved to him and he sat down as well.  The four of us talked and talked – they’re all so interesting and well-travelled and we covered many topics of mutual interest.  Both of the ladies have been recently widowed and are on their way to Normandy to tidy up and arrange to sell the house that Lorraine and her husband owned.  We were the last ones left in the bar when we finally called it quits sometime after 1:00.

Cary chose a sofa about 20 feet away and I got out my blanket and tried to get some sleep – I wasn’t very successful.  It was quite cold, even with my jacket and the blanket, and they didn’t dim a single light. Also, my mind was full of ABBA music, and much as I enjoy their music, at this time it wasn’t helping me sleep.

 

Took a couple of short rides on the trails near the house, then on Friday went back down into the city centre.  I stopped at one barber shop to see about getting a haircut but there was a waiting line and no place for my bike so I went a bit further down the road and there was another barber shop with no waiting, and a nice railing right outside to lock the bike to.

Diane gave me a really nice trim and tidied up the back – it was getting pretty shaggy looking, especially at the back.  She said they normally don’t cut ladies’ hair but since mine’s so short she’d make an exception – about half the price of a hairdresser.

After that I went slowly thru the centre and down near the river – found several more giraffes.  I was mistaken about how many there actually are – I read (in the local paper that gets delivered every week) that there are 57 in all.

At least two of them have been vandalized – what low-life scum would vandalize a giraffe?  The first idiot was a drunken 40-year old man, and the second was a couple of drunken young ‘ladies’.  Apparently someone took video of the second assault, and their pictures have been circulating on social media – maybe it’ll teach them a lesson to be kind to animals (even if they’re only sculptures!).

I got to my 2:00 appointment early but that was ok – he took me right in.  They let me put my bike in the back of the shop then I went upstairs and got my tattoo re-coloured.  I’ve wanted to have it done for a long time now, and finally just went ahead and did it. When I originally got the tattoo many years ago (in Amsterdam on my backpacking trip) I had wanted it to be more colourful but it was starting to hurt so we decided at the time to just leave it as it was with the wings being flesh-toned instead of bright goldish-yellow.

After the tattoo was finished I rode along the river for a bit to where the canal empties into it – it’s so pleasant along there with a lovely path and lots of benches, etc, as well as more giraffes.  The canal ride home was so nice – I’m really going to miss it.

The last couple of Tour stages were excellent – although I have to say ‘f***ing fans and f***ing motos’!  I don’t care if someone doesn’t like Froome – neither do I – but they shouldn’t be throwing things at him or trying to hit him.  And Nibali was taken out yesterday with a broken vertebrae in his back because of a collision with either a moto or a fan in the middle of a cloud of coloured smoke – he managed to finish the stage but was taken to hospital by ambulance at the end.

On Saturday I spent a bit of time washing sheets and vacuuming, etc, then treated myself to fish and chips for dinner at the pub.  It was a lovely evening – not too hot, but not rainy either. Lots of people outside at the picnic tables – kids running around, dogs lolling about – a very nice atmosphere.  Took a little ride around the nearby trails before heading home.

 

Got up nice and early and was on the road shortly after 8:30.  I had plotted a fairly ambitious route, mostly on quiet side roads towards Stratford-upon-Avon.  I packed a few extra things in case I got there and didn’t feel like riding back later.

Colin had warned me that the town is very touristy – mostly busses full of Japanese and Americans, so I wasn’t intending on seeing that much other than maybe Anne Hathaway’s house (and garden) and perhaps the canal.

The first part of the route was on kind of busy roads, at least until I was almost in Crowle where it turned off and went along the same road as the church tour I did last week.  At one point I had to ride for a bit along the A44 which was very busy. The GPS indicated that I wasn’t to turn off for 11 km and I almost stopped and turned around – just as I was thinking that, there was a road that veered slightly to the right.  Luckily that was the road I was meant to follow and was I ever glad to be off the busy one.

The quieter side road went thru Flyford Flavell and on past Radford.  There was a turn-off south that had a nice bench on the corner so I stopped for a minute.  I heard some voices coming from the east, and then a large group of walkers started to appear from around the hedge – there must have been about 20 of them in all.

I got back to riding and went another couple of km east before the clouds started looking more and more threatening.  The forecast hadn’t mentioned much rain but I decided against pushing on any further once the thunder started.

At one farm along the road there was a little booth that had eggs in cartons of 6 with a sign that indicated they were 1 pound each – the honour system still works in some places.  The place next-door had a ‘cattery’ – not sure what that is.

Back on the road from last week I was again in the ‘village’ of Huddington, which was where I couldn’t find the church before.  I took a right-hand turn that I thought might lead into the village but it really only went past a few houses and then ended. There was an older man with a large black lab (Charlie) and he asked me (the man, not the dog) if I was looking for something as I slowed down beside them.

I asked if there was an old church around there somewhere and he responded ‘oh – that would be on my property’.  We started chatting and, as is usual when he heard my accent (or – lack of, as I think of it) he asked where I was from.  When I told him Canada he asked what part so, as usual, I said Vancouver. Then he told me that he had lived there for many years and thinks it’s a beautiful city – he had been a doctor at Lion’s Gate hospital!

As we chatted we were walking to his property, which was across the road.  It’s a large estate with a very old ‘manor house’ and the church off to one side.  He told me to go ahead and lean my bike up on a nearby tree and cut across the lawn to the church gate.

He noticed that the lights inside the church were on and said that there may or may not be anyone inside, but if it was open I could go on in.  Just as I was about to walk over he mentioned that the church was involved in the ‘gunpowder plot’.

There was someone inside – a lady that was doing a little cleaning.  She also mentioned the gunpowder plot, then said she was leaving, and asked if I could please turn off the lights and shut the door when I left.  She also mentioned that the church picnic is on Saturday afternoon and I was welcome to join them if I wish.

I spent a little while inside – there are some very old-looking stained glass windows as well as large stone inscriptions.  It was very peaceful and quiet, although the whole place could use a bit of airing out, as it smelled pretty musty.

I knew my way home from there so ignored the GPS and headed for the canal.  

I got home in time to watch most of the day’s Tour – very exciting day, ending on La Rosiere, where Colin and I had seen a day of the Criterium.  One sad thing, though, is that a lot of the sprinters, including Cavendish, didn’t make the time cut.

Rode down into the city centre via Tolladine Road – not quite as scary as I expected and I made it down unscathed.  

There’s a large herd of giraffes in the downtown core – it’s a community project with various artists, clubs, groups and schools decorating statues, large and small.  It’s called the ‘Worcester Stands Tall’ project and they’re just beautiful – children especially like the small ones.

I made an appointment for Friday, and visited Holland and Barrett – they’ve been emailing me almost every day since last August so I figured I might as well pop in and pick up a couple of things.

OK – the last one is a painting on a wall at a park on the canal – but it goes with the theme…I believe there are 30 sculptures and I located around 23 of them – seven more hiding somewhere waiting to be found.

Rode up the canal back home – quite a bit further distance, but much easier on the nerves.

 

Once Philip (Lyn’s husband) returned from his walk on the canal, where he feeds the ducks, he managed to stuff my bike in the back of his car, with Lyn’s direction, then drove me down to Halford’s to get the tube replaced.  Their bike repair shop is on the second floor, which seemed a bit odd to me since you have to lug the bike up the stairs, but there was no waiting line or anything. After hefting the bike with full gear up and down stairs in various train stations in Italy last year this seemed like a piece cake.

I had called from Lyn’s before I went down – they don’t take appointments, and they prefer to only install products that they sell in their store, but she said to come down and they’d have a look.  It ended up being no problem to use the tube I’d brought from home, and it took him no time at all to change it. I watched as he did it, and I’m sure I could have done it myself – it had been such a chore to put the wheel back on last year when I first arrived and pulled the bike out of the box, but this was really simple.

There was a thorn stuck right thru the tire – he had to pull it out with needle-nose pliers.  I bot another tube to have as an extra, and am taking home the punctured one to see if I can patch it.

I’m glad I got that done in the morning as it clouded over and just poured rain most of the afternoon and evening – apparently the first real rain they’ve had here in weeks.  All of the lawns and gardens should be happy for it, and hopefully it’ll also cool things down a bit – riding when it’s over 30 degrees isn’t that pleasant.

The next day I rode to the pub to watch the England/Belgium game for 3rd place – it wasn’t nearly as crowded as the other day when England got beaten by Croatia, but there was still a good number of folks there – once again they left disappointed.

I went home and started feeling a little sorry for myself – no one cares where I am or what I’m doing – poor little me!  Of course that’s not quite true, but I was feeling down. Then I got a really nice newsy message from Marge, and exchanged a couple of short messages with Bob.

This morning I slept in later than I have in ages – being slightly depressed makes me tired, I guess, as does staying up late reading.  I really enjoyed watching the day’s stage of the Tour – it had 15 cobble sections and was very difficult. I was very happy with the result, with the exception that Richie Porte had to withdraw – I believe he broke his collarbone when he fell.

I rode back to the bar to watch the World Cup final – not many folks watching the game at all – after sitting on the stairs for Wednesday’s game because it was so crowded I had my pick of tables to watch from.  I was kind of cheering for Croatia since they’ve never won before and were the heavy underdogs, but I’m just as happy that France won. I can imagine that the Penalty Bar in Mansle was going crazy.

I rode by the orchard on my way home – still nice and peaceful.

 

Got going nice and early in the morning on my ‘Towers and Spires’ bike ride based on the brochure Lyn gave me several days ago.  The entire route cover 12 churches on a 42-mile circuit, but I’m only planning on doing the northeast part.

I rode first to the canal (of course) and left it at Dunhampstead, where I took the road southeast.  There’s not much traffic on the road and it’s nice and smooth, and winds past lots of trees and hay fields.  There was supposed to be a church at Huddington but I couldn’t find any signs or see any spires so I continued on to Grafton Flyford.

You have to go a few km up another side road to get there, but at least they had signs so I managed to find the church.  It has a late medieval timber bell frame and apparently there are two recently restored 16th-century paintings showing the symbols of St. Mark and St. John, although the door was locked so I couldn’t take a peek at them.

I back-tracked to the ‘main’ road and headed northeast past Stock Green and on to Bradley Green.  Just as I was turning onto the church road (again, good signage) there was a local cycling club going for a ride in the other direction – there must have been 15 or 20 of them and they said hi to me as I turned down the lane.

Same as the church at Grafton Flyford this one is dedicated to St. John the Baptist.  It’s a Victorian successor to an earlier medieval chapel, and has the ‘Bromsgrove Guild’ west rose window which is the memorial to the men of the parish killed in the First Word War.

When leaving the church I took a moment to visit the cows in the field next door – the farmer had delivered a load of hay to them while I was walking around the church.    

The cows were several different colours, and there were some really cute babies, as well as some young bulls.  Some of them looked at me like they might run over – maybe they thought I had another load of hay for them.

I back-tracked a bit again so that instead of going all the way north and then west to see Hanbury Church I cut across and went west and a bit south to Himbleton.  Partway along there was another road that joined it – there was water running over the side road, and a sign that said ‘slippery’. I walked the bike down to take a photo and the whole road was covered in algae – I guess it’s almost always under water for some reason.  It seems like maybe they could use a bridge or something.

When I reached Himbleton I took a short ride up the wrong hill but then I got my bearings and found the sign down a side lane to the church, which is dedicated to St. Mary Magdeline.

When I went to leave the church I noticed that my front tire was a bit low – it had gone very low several days ago after sitting in the sun for a couple of days when I first got to Worcester, but after pumping it up it seemed ok.  As long as I topped it up a bit with air every day I’d had no problem riding on the trails or up/down the canal.

I pumped the tire up before leaving the churchyard and made it back to the canal and just past Tibberton when I noticed that it had now gone completely flat.  I was right near the lock that has the house at it, so coasted there are pulled off the path. The man that lives in the house came up and asked if I wanted to use his pump, but it wouldn’t have made any difference.  Even tho I had tools and a spare inner tube in my pannier I didn’t want to try changing it in case I did something wrong, so I just tried inflating it again and got back on.

I barely got 100 metres and it was flat again, so I ended up walking the last 4 km or so back to the house.  Walking a bike that far sucks, but it was a lot better than having a flat at the mid-point of my ride in the middle of nowhere.  I had ridden just over 38 km when the flat occurred, so it could have been a much longer walk.

 

I now have a pet spider.  Well – not exactly a pet, but we’re co-existing without killing each other (meaning – I haven’t squashed him).  I discovered him the other day when I propped open the inner front door so I could get a breeze blowing thru from the back.  I’m not sure where he is at this time, but as long as he doesn’t take me by surprise he stands a chance of continued life. He’s fairly large but not hairy – there’s another one in the kitchen catching small flies by the window, but it’s more like a skinny daddy-long-legs so doesn’t bother me.

I went down to the pub to watch the England/Croatia game and it was, of course, a very animated atmosphere to begin with.  I was pretty happy when France had won their game, and I don’t mind Croatia, but I didn’t feel it would have been safe to cheer for them, so I went with the crowd.  As it was so packed I parked myself on the stairs below an older couple to watch – almost a front row seat, as long as I kept my feet out of the way of folks trying to squeeze by to the bar.  The festive atmosphere did, however, go downhill somewhat when Croatia scored their first goal, then their second. By the end of the extra time there were people actually crying – one young fellow had his head down on his crossed arms and was just sobbing.

I may have mentioned this before, but I would have been a lot more impressed, no matter who won, if there had been considerably less fake injuries and moaning and groaning on the ground.  I compare it to a cycling race – 5 or 6 hours of all-out racing, and someone wipes out – road rash from head to toe and blood everywhere. Does he cry and whine and want a penalty called before he’ll rise?  First of all it rarely turns out that he’s actually not hurt at all, and no – he doesn’t grab an ankle and pretend it’s broken – he gets back on his bike, blood and all, and continues riding. Soccer – sorry – football players are complete woosies and it’s quite disgraceful to watch them dive and whine – totally unprofessional.  But – once again I digress….maybe next time, England.

Had a couple of quiet days – rode north up the canal as far as Dunhampstead one day and south along it almost into the city centre another.  Visited the Lyppard Grange pub a couple of times for a pint – the first time I was there I didn’t see the pub cat, but when I asked about her was assured that Chips was still healthy and came around all the time.  Sure enough she did come over to my outside table on my second visit.

Did a bit of gardening in the backyard – borrowed Lyn’s hose so I could water all the bushes and weeds around the sides, then pulled the weeds the next day.  I also removed a lot of old, dead leaves from the palm-like plants, and yarded out a bunch of sticky viney-like things that Lyn pointed out to me. I remember a similar invasive one from my garden at home – it gave me an itchy rash for a bit, but that went away fairly quickly.

I watched a bit of the football game that France won, and the next day heard the England goals from outside the pub – it was so crowded inside I could hardly make my way to the bar to get my pint – even if I’d wanted to sit inside I couldn’t have found a seat.

Watched the first stage of Tour de France – the downstairs tv, that gets hundreds of channels, kept telling me to ‘insert card’ for the channels that were showing the race (ITV4 and Eurosport).  I tried several ways to get it online to no avail, and ended up trying, as a last resort, the upstairs tv, that only gets about 15 channels. Eureka – ITV4 is up and running! I think I’ll get at least 5 hours a day, which is great – I can watch a bit, go for a ride, then still catch the last half.

There are a lot of different ways that folks enjoy the canal – walking, riding, fishing, boats.  And the boats can be very different from each other – some are ‘tourist boats’ that just take people on a day cruise, and others look like people live on them, maybe all year long – dogs and all.

When I was at the pub earlier today I asked the bartender if he could put the second stage of the race on when it started at noon and he said sure, so after sitting outside a bit I went inside.  He told me I could bring my bike right inside, and eventually got the volume up so I could also hear the race. There were several men at a nearby table and they started commenting on my bike, etc.  They were quite impressed that I was over here all the way from Canada.

I left partway through the day’s stage – there’s some sort of children’s festival going on in the parks and streets nearby – I watched part of a puppet play and it seemed to be very violent – the puppets were repeatedly hitting each other with sticks.  I’m not sure what kind of message they were sending but I didn’t care for it.

Back at home I watched the end of the day’s TDF stage – Peter Sagan not only won the stage, he’s currently the overall leader!  It likely won’t last long, but for now it’s great.

 

Even tho I wasn’t uncomfortable I didn’t get much sleep, at least until about 4:30 in the morning.  The last couple of dreams I had involved waking up right as we docked in Poole, and having to madly rush trying to get all my stuff together.  When I did wake up and they were getting things ready for breakfast in the cafe I looked at the time on my ipad and it said it was 6:30 – only ½ hour to docking!  

I rushed to the washroom and did a super-quick sponge bath, brushed my teeth and combed my hair (getting pretty long now – ha ha).  By the time I settled down and thought about it I realized that I was still going by France time, and the ferry was scheduled to dock at 7:00 am England time which is one hour behind – no need to panic after all.

There was quite a lineup at the cafe and since I only wanted coffee I plunked a pound coin into a machine – it took the coin but didn’t give me my coffee.  The lady at the cafe told me to go to the information desk so I did – the person that handles refunds wasn’t there yet so I went outside to take a couple of photos.

By the time I went back in the refund lady was there and didn’t ask any questions – I presume the machine eats a lot of coins.  I didn’t want to risk losing another battle with the machine so I stood in line at the cafe and got a large black coffee. I grabbed several little creams, then added the last packet of honey that I’d taken from the hotel breakfast yesterday.  I put the coffee in my metal water bottle to keep it hot and ate the package of dried bread that I’d also filched from the hotel in Mortain.

After my delicious breakfast (not!!) I went out on deck again – the coast as we neared Poole is very pretty, with white cliffs similar to Dover but not quite so high.  

I was the first passenger down to the car deck and got the bike loaded up. The older couple arrived shortly after, but the younger fellow that also had a bike hadn’t shown up by the time we disembarked.

My GPS led me rather well to the start of my programmed route but then seemed to lose me a couple of times.  I asked directions from a very nice man on a bike, and the GPS found me again – it led me out of the city along some very nice cycling/walking paths, then some quiet back roads to the town of Blandford.

As I was walking my bike across a pedestrian bridge an older gentleman said that he’d noticed my Cdn flag on my camera case and told me that his son and daughter-in-law live in Clearwater!  We chatted for a couple of minutes, then I continued on into the centre of town to get some cash from a machine and grab a cup of tea.

As I was finishing my tea the older gentleman passed by and we said hello again – I bought some nice cold water to fill up my other bottle, then was on my way again.  It took a couple of tries to get on the right road, and it was a pretty busy one. Most of the cars gave me a bit of room, or slowed down until it was safe to pass me, but a couple cut it pretty close – I could feel the breeze of their passing.

The GPS eventually led me onto a very quiet side road that went past fields with lots of sheep.  It started to rain, but wasn’t that cold unless I was going downhill. It almost seemed to be taking me in a circle, but did end up again on a more main road.  There was one point where the road diverged and one sign said Shaftsbury and the other Salisbury – the GPS didn’t seem too clear so I took the left road towards Shaftsbury.

After going down a fairly steep hill it suddenly indicated that I was ‘off course’ so I turned around and pedaled slowly back up and then took the right-hand road.  After going down that steep hill for a bit it indicated once again that I was off course! I ended up walking the bike back up to the junction, very frustrated, and took the left road again.

Of course, once I’d gone down a bit, I was – you guessed it – off course again!!  How can I be off course on both roads?? I turned the GPS off and just kept going, following the signs towards Shaftsbury.

After a bit I came across a pull-out with a couple of trucks and a car, and asked one fellow what the town I could see in the distance was.  He verified that it was Shaftsbury, but when I asked if there was a train station there he said no – I would have to go to Gillingham to get a train, but it wasn’t that much further.  He warned me to be careful on the way down ‘Zig Zag Hill’ and I’m glad I took his advice.

As it was almost all downhill the ride into Shaftsbury wasn’t too bad, and I followed the signs with no problem to the road that went to Gillingham.  I stopped at one point and asked for directions to the train station, which ended up being very easy to find.

The fellow at the station was very nice and checked out several different connections to find me the best and least expensive one.  I boarded only about 5 minutes later, and went to Salisbury, where I got on a second train after about 15 minutes going to Bristol. All of the train employees I encountered where extremely nice and helpful, which almost made up for how expensive the ticket was compared to the trains in Italy.

I had to wait a bit in Bristol for the next train so took the time to grab a sandwich – as I was sitting on a bench next to the train track a seagull landed near me and seemed to be eyeing my food.  I could believe it when the cheeky thing actually hopped on the bench beside me and tried to grab the wrapper and fly away with my lunch!  I grabbed it back and the bird just sat there waiting for me to let my attention wander so he could have another go at it.  

Luckily this train was the last one for me today, as I had to stand beside my bike the whole journey because the area wasn’t large enough to get the bike into properly.  A couple of hours later I was in Worcester – tired but almost ‘home’.

I asked a taxi driver outside the station how to get to Tolladine Road and he said to just follow the alley that was straight ahead and I’d be there – turn right to go north.  He neglected to mention that at the end of the alley there was a very steep staircase down to the road, but I managed it without too much trouble.

Once I reached Colin’s house – the key worked this time! – I unloaded the paniers and my camera and headed directly to the store to get some food.  When I was back from stocking up I cooked some fresh pasta and sauce, and made a nice greek salad and chowed down – so good.

I was really, really tired – I had ridden over 65 km in all, with a fair amount of baggage – not that far for a ‘serious’ rider, but for me it was pretty good.  I’m kind of disappointed in myself that I didn’t try to go another day or two before hopping on a train, but overall feel good about today’s ride, and it’s great to be back in Worcester.

 

I had a not-bad sleep until about 3:00 in the morning when I woke up and I don’t think I went back to sleep until after 7:00 – I guess I’m a bit nervous about the next couple of days.

We had a decent breakfast, although the tea was sub-par – had to wash the taste away with a cafe-au-lait.  There’s a hotel cat that’s very friendly and not afraid of anything. When we were leaving the underground parking at the back the cat was lying right in the middle of the lane out and didn’t move an inch – Colin had to swing wide around her to get out.

We got back to Tony and Helen’s around 10:30 and had a better cup of tea and a bit of conversation before loading my bike up and hitting the road north/northwest again.

We went thru Vire, then stopped in St. Lo for a walk around – there’s a beautiful statue of a unicorn in the main pedestrian area in the centre of town, and a WWII memorial that used to be the main entrance to a large, very old prison.  We stopped at a cafe for a drink, then back on the road again.

We’re in the area of the beaches where the Allies landed on D-Day and there’s a very large memorial to them in general, and the Americans specifically, in the town of Sainte-Mere-Eglise that’s very close to Utah Beach.  We got out to have a look but the main area is fenced off and you have to pay to get in – we decided to just walk around the rest of the square a bit. Colin said he’ll visit tomorrow on his way back from dropping me off.

There’s a large church that was the site of a minor tragedy on the day the American 82nd Airborne paratroopers landed – one of them got tangled up on the steeple of the church and the nazis shot him to death as he hung there unable to get untangled.  They now have a model of him, parachute and all, hanging there. Taking and holding the town was key to protecting Utah Beach so the main force could land safely.

That part of the town is, unfortunately, quite touristy – there’s even a child’s carousel with Snow White on it – Disney was part of D-Day??  I don’t think so – very tacky…. I did go inside the church and some of the stained glass windows were beautiful – they depicted various things, including one that has some paratroopers along with Mary and baby Jesus.

On our way again it started to rain off and on – sometimes quite hard, although by then we weren’t far from Cherbourg.  We found the hotel Colin had booked for himself for tonite, then located the ferry terminal for me. To kill some time we went to McDonald’s to use their wi-fi, although the signal was very weak.

Since I wasn’t boarding the ferry for a few hours Colin checked into his hotel – again very weak signal on the wi-fi so can’t load any photos or anything.  I tried to have a nap for about an hour but didn’t actually sleep – really just rested my eyes. We left for the ferry terminal before 8:30 – as we were unloading my bike from the rack a man walked up and said he was Ukranian (I think) and did we know where Tourlaville was?  We tried to show him on the map book but then Colin suggested he wait until I was sure my ticket was ok, etc, then he’d key it into his GPS and lead the guy there – it’s actually where Colin’s hotel is at.

My ticket was all ok, even though almost everything that printed out was in the name of Ms. Colin B….instead of my name.  Said goodbye to Colin and Mo – already looking forward to seeing them again.

As soon as I saw two cyclists moving at the head of the waiting cars I left the terminal and a British campervan let me go in front of them.  The ride to the ferry was quite long – probably almost 1 km (at least it seemed like it). Had a bit of a wait with the other two cyclists – an older couple, as well as several motorcyclists.  They had all been booked onto an earlier ferry to Portsmouth that was cancelled for some mechanical reason, so now they are going to a port that’s well west of where they wanted to be.

We got to board right after a couple of semi-trucks, and were some of the first ones on the passenger deck.  I chose a nice lounge-type chair to start with, but moved to a large comfy bench in the cafe area right in front of the tv that was showing the England-Colombia game.  By the end of the game there must have been close to 100 people gathered around, and of course they were ecstatic with the outcome. Every goal in the shootout was loudly groaned, or cheered depending on who had scored.

I didn’t end up using the chair they made me book because I stretched out on the bench with my blankie and covered my eyes with part of my jacket that I was using as a pillow.  I asked at the bar if the tv in my area could be shut off as I was by then the only one there – he made a quick call and within a couple of minutes a young fellow came by and turned it off for me.  I had to put my earplugs in at one point because they just weren’t shutting down the music from the area further back.