It had rained off and on during the night, and the morning was completely overcast and bordering on cool.  Had a good shower – the water only stays on for about 5 seconds with one push, but it got nice and hot and you just had to keep hitting the button until you’re done.

After a nice breakfast – mine was leftover pork filets – at the tent we read for a bit before picking a town to go to for groceries.  We wanted to make sure we were there before they closed for the the entire afternoon for lunch. On the way back from shopping we tried to get to the beach from main road that goes thru Zarautz, but there’s no parking anywhere near it so we just went back to the campground instead.

The clouds were eventually replaced by blue sky, and after lunch I took Mo for a walk partway down the path towards the beach.  The views are spectacular, and the beach below looks fantastic.

It’s a really popular surfing beach in the area – there are signs in the washrooms at the campground that you can’t bring your surfboards inside – a lot of the campground’s visitors have come for the surfing.  There are also signs that you shouldn’t dump your campervan’s chemical toilet into the washbasins – are some people really that stupid?

I met a fellow from Manchester along the trail – he had what I call a ‘real’ camera also – and we chatted for a bit.  The trail is very good – the first part was sloped pavement, and the next part was very well-made stairs.

Mo and I stopped about halfway down and turned around – the walk back up wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be.  The trail down to Wreck Beach in Vancouver is much tougher.

After a leisurely afternoon we went to the same bar/restaurant as last night to get dinner but it was closed so we went to the other restaurant.  The outdoor area was full so we had to go inside – again taking Mo in wasn’t a problem. This time I opted for croquettes, which were delicious – ham and nice creamy cheese.  I topped it up with some of Colin’s fries and we each had two glasses of really nice red wine.

Once again the campground quieted down nice and early – read for a bit then fell quickly asleep.

 

Had a leisurely breakfast, then packed all our stuff up, followed by a nice cappuccino at the restaurant.  Got on the way north by about 11:30.

It wasn’t far to Irun, where we turned west along the coast thru San Sebastian – which is also known as Donostia, its Basque name I believe.  The GPS led us on a very picturesque route all along the coast heading west.

Once again we’re near one of the Camino trails – we’ve seen a couple of signs and some of the hikers have large (fake) clam shells hanging from their backpacks.  

The campground is just outside the town of Zarautz and high up on a hill overlooking the Atlantic.  It’s fairly large and completely different from the last two places we’ve stayed. When you arrive there’s a young lady that intercepts you and tells you where to park before you go in to register.  Once you come out she tells you where to wait for another staff member on a scooter to come and lead you to your little plot. The area we’re in is very crowded – we’re squished in like sardines in a can, but it’s alright since our neighbours on both sides are really nice.  Despite the number of people it’s pretty quiet – no traffic noises and lots of trees and birds. There’s a path down to the beach that we’ll have to investigate at some point.

We setup camp, then drove down to the town to look for a store – no luck finding one open.  Again – the extremely annoying 4 or 5 hour lunch! We stopped for a quick drink at a bar – and I was once again bothered by screaming kids.  There was a group at the next bar to us that had several small children at one table and the adults at another, and no matter how much the kids screamed they were generally ignored by the parents, who were relaxing with drinks and chatting with their friends.

I’m not advocating stuffing a socks in the kids’ mouths or hitting them with a stick to get them to be quiet – but the parents could at least not just ignore them.  Patience with screaming kids is a virtue that I’m still working on, I guess.

Back at camp we read for a bit – discovered that we could actually get electricity, and are very fortunately right near the wi-fi tower.  A little later we went down to the restaurant/bar to eat – we picked a table outside, as we had Mo with us, but the waitress said that we would have to go around the corner to another outside area.  It was a large, rather dismal place of concrete and not much else.

I ordered the pork filets – presented much like the chicken I had the other night – three very thin pieces pounded down and lightly breaded, with a bunch of fries.  It wasn’t bad, but not exactly what I think of as ‘local specialities’.

Partway thru our meal we were invaded by – guess what? – screaming kids.  Several families had arrived together and were all sitting in the area we had originally been in and told to move from.  All of their kids swarmed around the corner to our area and were running, jumping and screaming at the top of their lungs – we moved inside, telling the young waitress that it was because of the kids – she didn’t stop us even with Mo.

I was actually surprised later that it went quiet so early at the area where our tents are – no loud music or late, loud conversations – or even screaming children!  Everything basically shut down and was peaceful at a very reasonable time.

 

After a decent sleep and nice hot shower I did a bit of yoga, followed by fried egg and bacon on a baguette for breakfast.  Before it got too hot I headed out for a bike ride – there’s a small paved road that goes up, and one that goes down just beyond the end of the campground.

I first followed the one that goes up, although I must admit that I pushed the bike as much as I rode it.  It was what I can only describe it as – caterpillar hell. They were coming down from the trees by the hundreds – at times there were so many ‘lines’ dropping that it looked like a web or cocoon – it was just gross.  I met a couple of Spanish guys that were walking down the road and they said it turned to dirt in about 1 km, and that the caterpillars didn’t end.

I rode up to almost where it turned to dirt, then gave up and headed back down the hill – trying to dodge the hanging caterpillars the whole way, in addition to watching the road ahead for the frequent ‘water drains/troughs’ that cross it.

When I got to the fork that goes down from the campground I took it – it actually only went about 1 km, then ended up right across from the town of Sunbilla.

I turned around again and went back up to the campground – totally sweaty and probably covered with caterpillars.  As I coasted the bike to where the tent was I saw a caterpillar right in front of my nose – it must have landed on my helmet and was spinning a web down from the front.  I found at least three more on my shirt – various sizes from about an inch long down to around a quarter inch.

After my second shower of the day Colin and I went for a little drive.  We went back to Santesteban looking for a supermarket, but nothing was open – they are worse here than Italy or France – lunchtime closing is until 5:00!  We gave up and went back to Sunbilla, where we parked and walked around for a bit.

It’s a very lovely village, right on the river and very hilly.  At one small farm there were a bunch of sheep and they were all tucked up against the stone wall where there was a tiny bit of shade – they looked like rocks, only with heads.

They’re some sort of log-cutting thing around here – there’s a statue of a guy cutting a log that he’s standing on, and a poster on a building of a bunch of other guys that are apparently champions/former champions or something.

Back at the campground we sat around and read for a bit, then went for dinner at the restaurant.  We both got the ‘menu of the day’ – I had a mixed salad for a starter (it was really nice to have fresh greens for the first time in days) and Colin had the mushroom omelette.  Then for the main course I had chicken filets and Colin had the veal, both came with fries.

After our meal we talked for awhile with the folks at the next table – they were an older couple from England on their way to southern Spain to see one of their daughters who lives there.

I had enough of the chicken left over to do me for breakfast tomorrow.  Back at the tents we didn’t stay up too long, except that the campers above us were talking loudly until very late – they weren’t drunk or belligerent or anything – just very loud.

Had another good sleep followed by another wonderful outdoor shower.  Ate a leisurely breakfast while drying out the tent, fly and ground-cover as they were soaked with dew.

Just before we were ready to leave the frenchman next door came over and gave us both a gift – I got a bookmark that was white cardboard on red, and the white was cut thru in the shape of a flower, with a kind of 3-D effect.

Colin got a small black card that unfolded with a cut-out white cat on a table.  They were so cute, and he had just made them while he was at his table next door – it was very sweet.

We left the campground and went south, crossing the border into Spain just the other side of Ainhoa.  That town makes a lot of its money, apparently, with car-parks. Folks park there and walk into Spain, with the town on the Spanish side of the ‘border’ full of stores and casinos.  Many things are much cheaper in Spain, and I guess it makes for a profitable day-trip for french people looking for a deal.

As soon as we were descending on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees the weather and the vegetation changed.  It was almost immediately sunnier and warmer. We headed southwest, going on a smaller road and thru several small towns – nothing open, as it was noon on a Sunday.  We are on, or at least have crossed one of the Camino de Santiago routes – we have passed several markers.

We pulled over at one point and decided to check out campgrounds in one of the books Colin has – ended up back-tracking a bit to Santesteban, then north to the village of Sunbilla.  Just outside the village there was a marker for the campground, which seems to have a very popular restaurant/bar. They also have four very cute donkeys, that have a moveable fence/coral.

We chose our own camping spot, in a fairly secluded area ringed by six large oak trees.  After we setup we went and sat at an outside table at the restaurant and had a late lunch of battered and fried calamari rings, breaded calamari fingers and fries – all very tasty.

Music, other campers, and screaming children kept me from going to sleep very early, although I really didn’t mind sipping a bit of red wine and reading a book for awhile.  Children here seem to be up much later at night than I ever was at their age, and I’m sure if I ever shreaked the way some of them do I’d have been told to tone it down in no uncertain terms.

 

It rained almost all night long and my tent got a bit wet inside because I hadn’t pegged the vestibules down completely.  After a quick shower we left the campsite for our ITT watching spot a little after 7 – they close the roads off at 9 and we didn’t want to risk getting stuck on the wrong side of a barricade.

A bus came along and discharged two gendarmes and they set up a barricade along the small side road that we’re across from – the cows in a nearby field were unimpressed.  Only official cars were allowed on the ‘main’ road after that, and even cyclists were told to get off and walk their bikes.Many of the team cars drove by – scouting out the route, I guess – and some of the racers did a trial run.  More and more people arrived, many without chairs – we thought ‘boy, are they going to be standing for a long time’, but….

The cavalcade came by about 1 or 1 ½ hours after the gendarmes arrived.  It is so much more impressive that the Giro’s – it took over ½ hour for the whole thing to go past and I collected a pile of goodies, part of which I gave to the mother of some little girls.  We found out soon enough why so many people hadn’t brought chairs – they left as soon as the cavalcade had passed – they were only there for the loot!

The ITT is only 32 km today, but it’s almost non-stop up and down and there are some very sharp corners.  It had rained lightly most of the night, and continued for part of the morning so the roads, in places, could be challenging.  We could see several different parts of the course from where we were, so we always knew ahead of time when someone was coming – and especially if the rider was French, as the crowds before us would go nuts.

We knew the start order so had a good idea when certain riders would be coming by – everyone was waiting for Sagan, of course.  I got seven photos of the top of his helmet as he was looking down almost the whole time, but one shot isn’t too bad.

There was a group of three men and two boys that had been patiently watching and waiting for hours – one of the boys had a ‘king of the mountains polka dot jersey on, just like his hero – and it was quite funny because as soon as Alaphillipe passed they left!  Didn’t even wait for the top 10 to come by.

 

Froome got booed as he passed – he’s not getting a very good reception here in France, and others on the team aren’t being that well received either.  Dumoulin did well – he won the day, but still only placed second overall to Gerrant Thomas, Froome’s team mate on team Sky.

We headed back to the campground, then decided to go out for dinner.  The road into Souraide was still closed from the race so we went north instead to Ustaritz, and was the going ever slow.  Many people were leaving, although a surprising number stayed where they were – they were having parties on the side of the road here and there almost the whole way to the town.  

We had a wonderful seafood-of-the-day dinner at Restaurant Du Labourd in Ustaritz.  It was a lovely place – we arrived just after 7:00 and were told that dinner service didn’t start until 7:30 so we sat outside and had a drink first.  The chef and some of the staff were at another table having their dinner before they got to work.

I heard Colin’s alarm go off in his tent at seven, but didn’t actually rouse myself until just after eight.  The outdoor showers are great – the ‘stalls’ are behind curtains, and look out over the valley and hills beyond, and you look up at a lovely large tree.  You push a button and get a really nice flow of hot water for about a minute – just keep pushing as many times as you like.

When I got back to camp I was informed, very nicely, that I had made a boo-boo when packing up the cooler.  Not only had I forgotten to bring the eggs (and carrots), but I hadn’t sealed the lid properly on my olives and feta-cheese containers.  There was olive and cheese juice all over everything in the bottom of the cooler – oops!

After cleaning it all up I enjoyed a lovely cup of hot tea, and breakfast of fried mushrooms, tomatoes and bacon – would have been a great frittata, except for no eggs.

After the dishes were done we thought it would be a good idea to find our ‘spot’ for the ITT.  We had decided to find the spot and I would stay there with the table and chairs while Colin went and did some shopping, then leave the car there to save our spot while we walked back to the campground for the night.

As it turned out we didn’t have to leave the car.  We drove along the route a bit and pulled in where a bunch of campervans were, but realized that they weren’t very welcoming and likely were waiting for friends to arrive, so kept going.  We then figured we’d gone too far – it wouldn’t be close enough to walk back to the campsite if we needed to so turned around and went back to another place we’d passed.

It was perfect – just at the end of a small climb, and the verge was just wide enough for the car.  There was a fellow sitting in the shade across the road and we started talking with him – turns out he’s Dutch and actually offered to save a spot for the car in front of his campervan!  So instead of sitting at the side of the road all day reading to save our spot – which I was fully prepared to do – I got to go into Saint-Jean-de-Luz instead.

St-Jean is a beautiful town right on the ocean – just south of Biarritz.  We found a parking spot right next to the seaside and walked along the boardwalk a bit.  It’s a very touristy place, but at the same time extremely appealing in it’s own way. There are several really nice beaches and you can see the Pyranees in the distance.

Back towards Souraide more campers keep arriving all along the route – the roadsides in the wider spots are filling up, as is the campground.  I’m a bit surprised at the number of tents.

There are quite a few kids at the campground, some very young, with bikes – they ride around and around and are very quiet (ie – not shreaking all the time).  Had an early evening – all set for tomorrow!

 

We were ready and on the road before 9:30, heading south/southwest, and using the Beemer instead of the campervan as it still has electrical issues.  Getting around Bordeaux was a slow pain, and the motorcycles were semi-suicidal.  They’d whiz up in beside us out of nowhere and cut in front, then do the same to the car in the other lane, many times just riding between the lanes full of cars.

Once we passed Bordeaux it was still slow for awhile, then gradually the traffic cleared and we made good time again.  We went pretty much straight south, passing through Ustaritz where we started to see signs for the Tour. We had put the GPS co-ordinates of a campground into the system but it misguided us so we just followed the signs for the stage route.

There were already lots of campervans parked along the road and we wondered if we would have to ‘wild camp’, which we were prepared for, but still preferred the idea of a campground.  We did stop at a B&B along the stage route, but it was, of course, fully booked. The lady there did, however, direct us to a nearby campground that we might try.

It wasn’t very far – just around the corner from where the stage will be going.  We pulled in and walked up to the house/office. A man came out and indicated that they were full for the next several days, but when we told him we only had two small tents he thought about it a bit, then said ok – we could squeeze in somewhere.

We had our choice of two spots, both of which were very nice.  We didn’t need electricity or anything, so just pulled into the spot of our choice and proceeded to set up our tents.  The views from the campground are just beautiful – it’s in the foothills of the Pyranees and the whole area is rolling hills covered with trees and small farms.

We needed groceries, as well as lunch, so ended up driving just past St-Pee-Sur-Nivelle for the groceries, then back into the town to a bar for lunch.  It was right on the main street – we sat outside and asked for two orders of the pate and each got a bowl of bread rounds and a small can of pate.

It actually was really good – not quite as good as what I had in Varenne, but not bad at all.  Almost everything on the menu – both food and drinks – is from ‘Basque’ – many folks have red neck-kerchiefs and the Basque flag is prominent.  I tried a local cider, which was ok – not overly sweet like some can be, and had a slight citrus flavour.

The shop next door to the bar we were in had some really neat posters of old Tours – one was from 1922, and the shop across the street had a cool painting of a cyclist on its window.  Most of the signs – shop signs and street/highway signs – are in two languages – French and Basque.

Our neighbours at the campground are really nice – they invited us over to play a game that seemed similar to bocci-ball, but was with disks instead of balls.  Colin passed on joining them, but I gave it a go. My first toss was really close, but after that it was hit-and-miss for me. One of the kids – probably around 13 or 14, was pretty good.  They tried to instruct me on how to throw properly – one such piece of advice was ‘not a frisbee’.

When the game broke up so they could eat dinner I left – sat outside and read for a bit, then headed into my tent for more reading.

Colin filled up the back of the car with things for the charity shop – Mo got to ride in the back seat for once.  It was getting very hot by the time we got there – Colin dropped off his donations and we went inside the cafe for lunch before going to the book store to pick up some more reading materials.

The ‘for adoption’ dogs were so cute – one of them was a 4 year old black griffon-labrador cross that was so sweet – more like a puppy than an adult – but he was having trouble finding his forever home.  They told us that adult black male dogs have a lower chance of adoption – I couldn’t understand that – he was just so adorable.

The laundry I’d done earlier was well dry by the time we got home.  We watched part of the day’s Tour stage, then went down to the bar for a drink – the race is being recorded.  There were a couple of bad wipeouts on the very steep final downhill – one rider went clear over the barrier but luckily didn’t pitch down very far.

Michele from the local cycling club dropped by – he had been in Italy on vacation for two weeks and had stayed at Colin’s house in Papiano.  He said the house was lovely – especially the air conditioning – and they went on lots of day-trips to places in the surrounding area.

Wednesday morning I stayed home while Colin went out with the cycle club – did yoga and coloured my hair.  Spent part of the afternoon packing up what I’ll be taking tomorrow.

Had really good BBQ burgers for dinner – fried onion and mushrooms, lots of cheese – very tasty.

I must have slept about ½ hour in all, and was woken by the announcement that we would be docking in 45 minutes.  I roused myself as folks started coming into the bar area from the private cabins, which were just down the hall. I washed up a bit and brushed my teeth, then went to the self-serve cafe to get a cup of coffee.

I gulped down the coffee as we approached the port at Oistreham – they call the destination Caen as that’s the nearby city, but the port itself is actually Oistreham.  I made my way down to the bike deck and got everything ready – I was the first cyclist there and got loaded up and out of the way so the others could get to their bikes.

They were off-loading cars already when I suddenly freaked out and said ‘oh my god – i’ve left my bag in the cafe upstairs!’.  I leaned my bike against the wall, grabbed my camera case and raced to the door to the upper decks. I hoofed it up three floors and fled forward to the cafe, racking my brain trying frantically to think what had been in the green plastic bag that I’d really miss if it was, indeed, lost.  The cafe was empty of passengers, of course, and the staff was cleaning up. I ran to the first person I saw and said ‘I left a bag’ as I searched the area I’d drank my coffee in – no bag. The staff person said I should check for it at the information counter one deck down. As I raced towards the stairs again I actually started using my brain and thinking:  I remember shoving my blanket into a panier down on the bike deck, so how can I be missing the bag I’d carried it around in? I settled down a bit and just went back to the bike deck – the other cyclists had already left and my bike was leaning all by itself against the wall. I did a quick check, and there was the green bag, all flat and almost empty in the basket that my camera case sits in – I hadn’t even seen it when I originally freaked out, grabbed the camera case and fled upstairs.  I felt, at the same time, great relief, as well as super stupid! Chalk it up to no sleep – that’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it!

I immediately got on the bike and started riding to the exit ramp, when a worker called at me – I wasn’t meant to ride the bike while I was still on the ferry – oops.  I walked the bike to the front of the cars, and they let me push it up the ramp ahead of the vehicles. I could see the other cyclists not far ahead and managed to catch up to them well before we got to the security booths.  

Getting into France wasn’t nearly as hard as getting out of England had been – they looked at my passport, looked at me, and bid me welcome to France, enjoy my stay.  I rode a bit until I was at the terminal and missed the narrow path to it – I kept riding along the small building thinking I would turn around at the end, but as I passed the corner I saw Colin and Mo waiting for me.  I was so happy to see them!

The car wasn’t far so as I coasted along towards it and they walked we reached it at the same time.  Just then Cary rode past on the road and saw us – he joked ‘that was a long ride!’ as I laughed and waved at him.

We decided to drive for a bit before stopping for coffee and a bite to eat.  There are dozens and dozens of black migrants near the port – they are all over the place and come out of the ditches as soon as it gets light, and are almost entirely young able bodied men.  Apparently their aim is to sneak onto a lorry and get across the channel into England. I’m not sure what is better for them in England than in France, but the penalties to the truck drivers and the companies they work for are very steep if they get caught with someone hiding in their cargo.  And if the cargo is any kind of food or produce the entire load has to be thrown out, in addition to a fine of at least 25,000 pounds. The whole situation is very very sad.

We chose to follow smaller, quieter side roads home rather than take a quicker route via motorways.  Not far from Caen was a memorial to the Canadians that helped liberate the city on July 9, 1944. Memories of the war are all over the place here (as they are in so many parts of Europe)  – Normandy, of course, was in the thick of it, especially the attempts of the allies to get a foothold on the continent so they could have a base to work from to roust the nazis.  NOTE to Trump and others like him, as well as their supporters – beware!! Don’t forget what hatred, ignorance and paranoia can produce. He who forgets the past is doomed to repeat it!

Looking for a place to stop and eat was a bit challenging – we had passed thru Alencon intending to find a small cafe in a village, but nothing was open anywhere – either the village didn’t have any cafes or they were closed because it was a Monday.  

We finally saw a restaurant/bar in the town of Varenne and what a great choice it was.  They had a buffet of appetizers and salads, and two choices for main course. I was so hungry I loaded up on pate and several kinds of salad, and was it ever tasty – I wolfed it down.  We both chose the beef for our main – it was steak, not an overly expensive cut but nicely grilled and tender.

After we finished we walked Mo around a bit outside – there’s a memorial to those killed in Verdun in WWI, and part of the display has a glass cover over some soil from Verdun.  

Just across the river as we headed further south there are a bunch of caves in the cliff – folks live in some of them, or at least they used to.  

Lots of hay fields, and sunflowers.  A couple of times I almost nodded off because I’d gotten so little sleep, but we made it home to Mansle in pretty good time even on the smaller roads we were using.

Shortly after we got home I walked to the store to get some essentials – tomatoes, cucumber, fresh greens, etc.  Early to bed.

 

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.