Normandy 2022

 The rushed prep rides are complete and we are as ready as we can hope to be. Why rushed? Well, my former work colleague and fellows sportsman, Patrick Gedge, told us he was thinking of going cycle camping and 'where should I go, what should I take'?

I drew up some routes alongwith ideas with a must-have-with-you list of items, and the seed was sown on to what I had believed was now fallow ground. Do you like how I have made this Pat's fault 😊?

When I told Kathy what I was doing her reply was 'ooh, we should go too'. I asked Pat if he would like to be accompanied.....'yes, please' was his reply and the madness that is prep started all over again.....and Kathy's fault 😁.

Weighted bottles (of water) were put into the dusted-off panniers and off we went on the hilly 8 miles to the furthest (in Bournemoth) Lidl where the purchases were added before heading home with 3 day's supplies. The process was repeated several times before our calves and quads stopped being sore at which point we added a few extra slopes in both directions.

One week ago, we headed 25 miles  to Isle of Wight for a 'shake down' camp to see if we had left anything off the must-have list. We had!

While on the island we visited a dear friend of ours who had recently lost her hubby of 50+ years. Margee Crick is an ex-cyclist of some repute, as was her husband, Ron, and she was delighted to hear of our upcoming adventure and after a few coffees and slices of perfect lemon cake, we said our good byes with a promise to visit her again in 3 weeks time when Tour of Britain is completed no more than 5 miles from her home

Today, while Kathy was shopping, a very nice chap approached to 'ask a few questions' and 45 minutes later we parted company with a sharing of email addresses and a promise of further-advice. After a post-lunch doze, the panniers were loaded along with tent and roll mats and an air of excitement is hovering within our cosy little house.

Tomorrow (Thursday) we will top up with rice based meals and on Friday we will leave home at dawn for the 10 mile ride to Poole, catch the ferry to Cherbourg and off we will go again.

Day 1

The alarm rudely awoke us 5.45 and we were away by 6.30, bags, roll mats and tents strapped to our bikes. The ride on the promenade was speedy (for us) and chilly but the breeze was in our favour. Soon enough we cleared the small slope that is Evening Hill and swept on towards Poole and Baitor Park.

We turned into Poole Ferry Terminal to find Patrick waiting for us. His ride from Wimborne to Poole ( along the trailway to Upton ) had been as equally uneventful as ours. We were through passport control and customs without incident and were directed to proceed up the boarding ramp to our ship.

Once onboard we soon found the restaurant where we headed the queue for vegetarian cooked breakfast and a few coffees. A perfect start to the day. Kathy was soon giggling to Patrick's steady stream of jokes as we happily chatted while I groaned an 'oh no' as I recognised the joke coming our way.

I was reminded of 3 ladies who had worked on our office and were fellow sufferers of Patrick's humour, one who would laugh then groan an 'oh Patrick',  another who would shake her head while quitely giggling and the 3rd lady would continue to work on her Excel spreadsheets as though nothing had been said.

Food and drinks finished Kathy ran on to top deck to grab a photo of Sandbanks Ferry, and soon, after Old Harry's Rock while I 'looked after' our kit.

We chatted about the planned route and agreed a stop to shorten the first day as we were a little weary after an unusually early start.

We descended off the ferry into Cherbourg and were soon head of the queue and without trouble we were off into France. Within 25 metres of leaving the port we were on to a series of  busy cycle paths heading southwest. 

3 miles of easy cycling took us to Bretteville and the road sign for camping. I indicated we were turning left when, luckily, Kathy called out that 'we need to find a shop to purchase evening meal and breakfast food'. Well done Kathy for being alert. With the use of  Maps.Me we found a good shop 500 metres to our rear where the normal routine kicked in. I stood outside guarding the very loaded bikes and soon, with all necessaries acquired Kathy and Patrick emerged from the shop ...... giggling like children.

The shop assistant had stood at the till with his back to the customers ignoring the queue of shoppers because 'you did not press the attention buzzer!'. With the laughing still going on,  we were soon on our way again, arriving 1 kilometer later at the Bretteville camping.

Reception was closed (French working hours seem to stop between 13.00 - 16.00 (very wise) so we proceeded to look around the campsite to find a good spot on the low-cliff edge. The campsite was formed around an ancient Napoleonic? fort and we were warmly reminded of a campsite in Cornwall (Whitsands Bay Fort) where we have pitched our tent and later parked our van.....we felt at home.

At 16.00 we attended the reception where in our best French/English (Franglais) we were able to tell the helpful staff of our needs and our tents were soon erected in the most scenic spot I have enjoyed.

We walked the rocky beach before heading into the sea for a chilly swim as the sun began to set. Cameras were at the ready as dinner was cooked and the wine poured....all was good in the world.

While returning from the sea Kathy had voiced concerns for 2 kayakers just off shore 'as they seem to be floating around, not moving'.   The 'kayakers' were 2 fishing line/pot markers. Should have gone to Specsavers! 😁. Through the evening we noted cheerfully that those poor kayakers are still struggling amongst the rocks. 😊

Late in the evening a petite pretty Swiss lady in a VW van pulled up next to us and we were soon on first name terms, Kathy, Patrick, (he was instantly in lust) meet Monique. I swear she spoke better English than us. After a who, why, what, where and how - chat, Monique bade us a good night and soon all was quiet.

As dark crept over the camping, I reached for my Kindle discovering that the screen was shattered and no longer usable because I had packed it badly. Aaaagh! The blog entry will have to wait until our return so notes are needed to enable some form of accuracy.

So we sat gazing in awe at the ever-increasingly bright stars and the occassional satellite while we sipped our respective glasses of wine. Sante.  As we finished our wine and Kathy noted another satellite, Patrick piped up that 'when I was living in Bristol he dated a female astronaut. It didn't last long because she'needed more space''

We still giggle about that now....there was a slight tittervof amusement from Monique (in the van) too. Happy days

Day 2 To Barfleur

Silll mourning the defunct Kindle, we breakdasted,  packed and loaded our bikes and headed out to climb the long steep slope to give us a great view of the coast line. The climb was much longer and steeper than expected (45 minutes)  and once at the top, Patrick said how impressed he was with Kathy's willingness to haul her loaded bike up the hills without complaint. A fully justified compliment for one of this world's kindest, finest and willing-to-have-a-go people one could meet. 

Soon after, glowing with such justified high praise for Kathy, I misread the instructions and took a wrong turn. Fortunately it was soon obvious that we had gone wrong as we encountered a busy road. We turned and were soon back in the countryside and going along quiet, well-paved country lanes, passing wonderful scenery, pretty houses and churches with interesting designs.

As we travelled, mainly downwards, we stopped after a gentle short climb to sip a drink at a farm house gate and were greeted by a brown tail-wagging barking spaniel. Patrick (the chicken whisperer) approached the terrifying beast and slowly brought it to silence and both seemed very pleased to be acquainted. At the rear of the property there was a small movement of small creatures and Patrick said 'aw, look, The dog has puppies'. As he spoke, one of the puppies crowed as would a cockerel 😁.....a Kayaking Specsavers moment indeed.

Soon after on a steep, winding but short climb, I had eased away from Kathy and Patrick and I heard a 'morning' as a cyclist went passed me at good speed. Apparently, one chap had made a negative comment about Kathy carrying a big load while Patrick was not, and I guess an assumption was made that they were together and Kathy was doing more than her fair share. Kathy says that I was out of sight so the assumption was understandable.

We descended passing many cyclists going in the opposite direction and I mentally sympathised with each, especially the two young ladies fully laden as were we. The wind shifted to behind us as we eventually reached level ground and we zipped along effortlessly passing fields filled with a huge variety of vegetable which we named and created menus to make our mouths water.

We were so distracted by our construction of wonderfully tasty dishes that the miles passed and our shop of choice was soon spotted.

From the shop we headed into the village of Barfleur to find its picturesque harbour to and that the campsite was full / complete!

We sat at the slipway to snack while I scanned  the Maps.me phone app and discovered to our huge surprise and delight that a 2nd campsite was only 500 metres on the other side of the seemingly-obligatory vegetable field. We were happy to discover that they had space for 7 euros pernight. Fantastic. We love camping in France!

To add to our pleasure, the campsite was immediately opposite a sandy half-moon-shaped beach and to boot, a phare / lighthouse on the headland 800 metres along the way.

We rushed to set up then get dressed for the beach and a  swim. Kathy was extra pleased to note that there was an abundance of sea-glass scattered around and the day was complete when she found a piece of blue glass.

As we sat to eat our evening meal we agreed that we were extremely lucky people. Lucky to have the drive to take on this little adventure, lucky to have the time and funds, lucky to have the good health and lucky to have the friendship all of which that brought us to this magical place.

Day 3 to Quintville

We left our camp site with some regret....another day of relaxing in the lagoon-type bay and the soft golden sand would have been perfect but time (the ferry home) would not wait for us. Yesterday's breeze was no longer nudging us along the quiet country lanesbut was inn our face and an obstacle which would be in our way the whole day. We chatted, Patrick joked, we laughed, or groaned as appropriate and the miles passed. Our route was designed to zig-zag to follow a busy main road and at one of the crossing points we found a small van with sides open with cooked barbequed chickens for sale. As Patrick is a dedicated vegetarian we decided against a purchase, despite the wonderful aromas and pressed on. Soon the quiet lane shrunk and our route thinned to a mere path. 

As we passed an ancient watermill, we encountered 3 guys enjoying a spot of fishing. As if on cue one called out 'OUI' and he bought a hand-sized trout to the riverbank. We stopped to admire and congratulate them before proceeding over a tiny footbridge which led on to a muddy path.

Our bikes were slipping and sliding on old cobbles and bouncing over tree roots and we considered finding a new route but we pushed on. After about 800 metres we came out of a wooded path on to a tarmac and away we went enjoying the luxury of smooth surfaces once again.

The lack of surrounding trees opened up the route ahead to show a hillside that we hoped to avoid.....but couldn't. After some confusion about which way to go at a T Junction we opted to follow the plan and headed in to the village and a long, sharp climb. Patrick and I pushed hard and slowly moved away from Kathy as we headed around a snapback to pass a church.

As the steepness took its toll Patrick eased away from me and waited higher up the climb at the next snapback. Half way up this part of the climb a small yappy dog stood in the gateway of the house watching the fools sweating their way passed the property.

Patrick and I stood on the snapback as watched the dog walk on to the road to seemingly challenge Kathy. As Kathy manoeuvred around the dog it yapped a few times and then jogged alongside her barking ever more keenly. As she approached Patrick and me, it looked up at us and stopped barking and running. I called out 'NON' and raised my hand to indicate it should stop and go home down the hill. It stopped, turned, looked back and I thrusted out my pointed finger once again and it trotted off home. Dogs, eh. No damage done or pride lost on either side.

My instructions showed we had only 1 mile to climb before we turn left so we set off again, in Granny gear, occasionally weaving, to maintain speed up though the wooded lane. Patrick arrived first and kindly encouraged the elder cyclist (me) and Kathy arrived soon after stopping at the junction with a slump over the handle bar.....cue more praise from Patrick and myself. Kathy's response was heavy breathing and a thumbs up. After a sip of water and granola bar we continued our way up to the top, from where according to our instructions we could enjoy a long descent to our shop of choice.

Half way along the descent we caught the sound of muffled loudspeakers followed by the roar of throaty engines and dalf a mile later we came across a 'Route Baree' sign in the road. This definitely needed to be investigated so we passed the sign and moved on with the sounds of big engines coming closer. Soon we met two hi-viz vest wearing chaps who happily told us that the event was a grass track competition and for 10 Euros we could go in. We considered, thanked them and declined their kind offer and with regret continued on our way. 

3 miles on we came in to town and a shiny new supermarket came into view. The huge carpark was nearly empty and I was left outside stretching and nibbling my sandwiches as the shopping team went to work. At this point we should mention that today is Sunday and all shops shut early if they open at all! Kathy and Patrick emerged soon chatting happily saying they had been chucked out as the staff wanted to go home but they had been able to get most of the items required.

It was very fortunate that we had not stopped to watch the grass track racing.

With shopping loaded, lunch eaten, we checked the instructions that looked a little confusing so MAPS.ME was opened up once again but offered no sensible option so we broke our rule of no main road and opted for the coast road to our next town QUENTVILLE. Luckily, the route divided after 3 miles we were once again on a flat quiet lane which with the breeze blowing to our side gave us a pleasurable ride towards this day's destination. - the start of UTAH beach. Very soon we found a cycle-route sign taking us towards the beach itself. After 1 mile or so the tarmac turned to gravel and then hard sand....not the best form of surface for cyclists who are loaded but we pressed on travelling parallel to the beach as the village with campsite was in view.

It was not long before we were back on a decent (gravel/ tarmac mixture) surface and boat masts came in to view. We stopped to admire the pretty scene and take in some 'boat porn' .... Kathy's term, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the various vessels. The campsite was on the opposite bank and after a short loop up we came to our destination for the day. We rolled in with great pleasure enjoying the gawping of an elderly caravanner who we hailed with a 'bon jour' and a smile as we leaned our bikes against the wall.

'Ferme' (Closed) she said indicating with her raised chin pointing towards reception. We laughed. Before we could ask she told us 'quinze heures' (15.00). 'Merce madame, tres gentile' and we found a vacant camping bay, lent our bikes against the hedging, changed in to non-cycling kit and took a stroll to the beach 25 metres away.

The beach is very very flat and very very long and was obvious to us why the Allies chose here to be part of the 1944 invasion plan. A short walk along the beach brought us out to the village museum and for 6 Euros we enjoyed further education of the clothing, equipment and events of the time. Great value.

As we left we spotted 3 other cyclists who were loaded with panniers and tents and after hearing them speak in English, we stopped to chat and learned that they were following a similar route and were enjoying the same sites, fine weather and breeze as were we. We waved them off with a 'bon route' and headed back to the camping where the Concierge/Receptionist was happy to see us and allowed us to stay (5.50 Euros each) where we had previously dumped our bikes. After buying an ice lolly from the kind lady we set up camp and  began cooking our evening meal.

While cooking a very noisy old Swiss-plated VW van pulled in and an older lady jumped out, smiled and waved and said something in French.....no idea. Our non-reply prompted here to ask if we were British (in the most perfect Englsih accent) and we were all soon chatting. She had been on Isle of Skye when her van lost a lot of oil and was 'heading home to Switzerland to arrange for a mechanic to do his magic'. We commented on her brilliant English and it turned out she is a former translator at The Hague.

The night's sleep was broken both by the storm blowing through and the ventilation system in the ablutions building, This building is open fronted but it was deemed necessary to ventilate with a noisy machine 24 hours a day. Bizarre.

The unexpected huge thunderstorm that had blown through had left our chairs soaking wet - Lesson learned....no matter how much wine one has consumed or how tired after a good ride, take in your chairs. 

Day 4 to CARENTAN / UTAH memorial

We woke to find our tent was not watertight and small puddles had gathered inside but nothing was too damp/wet but a mental note was made to buy a new tent on reaching home. A quick mop up with a sock and all was well so after a cooked breakfast we packed and loaded and set off with a fond fairwell to our Swiss neighbour heading for the chosen route of the day.

We cycled along a little used and decent flat road adjacent to the beach for 15 miles before stopping at a fine and fitting memorial to Canadian military folk. Patrick has a cousin living in Canada so the memorial was extra special for us all.

We were touched by the writings about the sacrifice made by those folk and we contemplated the resulting mental health of their grandparents, parents, siblings and children many of whom would be scarred for life....let alone the mental and physical health of the military folk themselves - on both sides. We concluded, as many have before us, that war is so wasteful in so many ways.

We moved on a few miles and came to UTAH Beach Memorial - an impressive monument to the many folk who did their stuff here. There are several small monuments to specific folk, Algerian minesweepers who cleared the ocean on 4th/5th June 1944 and after their work was complete sub-aqua experts who cleared obstacles nearer shore - half of whom died as they worked. Heroes all!

After a subdued lunch we pressed on towards CARENTAN passing through lovely villages and enjoying the breeze on our backs once again. As we crested one long climb I remembered the shape of road from my Google Mapping route finding efforts and was delighted to brings us all to a halt so we could look around us. Behind us was a building with the oddest of names 'Dead Man's Corner'. 

This building had been taken over by the Germans as a HQ and post-invasion was occupied by Allied troops for the same reason. I guess the Dead Man's name came from the loss of lives in the capturing.

On we went in to Carentan to find the shop of choice which had a road side decoration of parachutes - a fitting tribute once again.

As I waited outside the shop, stretching, I caught a whiff of vinegar and chips. When our shoppers emerged we agreed a portion of those nice-smelling chips would do the trick and we crossed the car park where we once again met our cycling pals from QUINTVILLE....a small world.

As we ate an older chap pulled up on his heavily laden Vespa scooter with GB plates and we were soon chatting, eating and recovering. We were in no hurry to press on as our camping was only 2 miles further. So we listened to his scooter-travel stories with increasing amazement and admiration. He had travelled, on this occasion, from North Yorkshire - on his own - making his way to Switzerland for a Vespa Meet. Bravo sir.

We waved goodbye to all after the hearty meal and pressed on in to town where we soon picked up the camping signs. As we passed a side turn Kathy called out 'ooh boats' so we turned to investigate. Tied up alongside the huge and impressive expensive modern yachts was a replica viking sail boat - complete with wonderful carvings - with a similar but smaller 'life' boat' attached.

The temperature dropped and skies darkened so we continued around the haven to find the camping called .... 'HAUT DICK' much to our amusement....a few double entendres soon followed. All sorts of immature comments poured forth most of which are most unsuitable for this blog - let your imaginations run wild. HAUT DICK is a lovely campsite sitting alongside the sea-water fed canal, is family run and provides very generous space and a covered swim pool too....all for 6.00 Euros per night per person. Incredible.

After setting up our tents and prepping for eating (Patrick was cooking his own meal this evening) Patrick asked Kathy if he could 'borrow some oil, please'. Kathy made the assumption that Patrick required chain oil so went to her bike bag while Patrick and I looked on with amusement. It was only when Kathy went to hand over the tiny oil container and Patrick didn't put out his hand to take it, did it dawn on her that there are other oils and we all laughed. The oil misunderstanding - caused by increased fatigue - was to be a source of amusement that evening and the next day.

Our tents were erected under huge willow trees then headed for the bar and 2 large beers / ciders before a rain storm appeared and we dashed for cover and hopefully a decent night's sleep and hopefully no leaks this time. Patrick recieved a message from a friend to inform him/us that the Queen had passed and Charles was to take over and to be known as Charles 3rd. God save the King.

I have a sore knee (sore to touch, when stepping up and sore when pressing hard on pedals..... undoubtedly from insufficient stretching of quads, calves and hamstrings - must try harder

Day 5 to Arromanches

We set off avoiding most of the village after finding a short cut out during last night's stroll. The wind is with us and we are making good speed (for us) and each are taking a turn at the front.  The route is twisty and lumpy which along with a hint of rain keeps us all quiet. After an hour we came across a recognised cycle route-sign indicating  our next town (ARROMANCHES) and contrary to all the planning and experience in using diversions we followed the new signs.

After an hour of so doing, Kathy asked if we ' can go back to the original plan' because the new sign was 20k longer than original distance in total. This day was going to be  hard for us all. Immediately we encountered a long slope but picked up a following breeze and the rain stopped too. After stopping for a snack we found ourselves back on the planned route and all was good, especially as energy levels were up and the sun was beginning to break through.

Slowly but surely the route became increasingly lumpy with the climbs becoming longer and soon enough we picked up a sign for OMAHA Memorial. 

With the energy levels dropping again, after a few climbs, we dropped down to a flatter route- a main road - and as we approached the US Cemetery the half way target for the day, on one long slog up I pulled over to allow a stream of traffic including a lorry to get on their way. For no obvious reason Kathy passed both Patrick and I and only pulled in after we called her to let the lorry pass.....fatigue does strange things.

We reached The Cemetery and were grateful for the very smooth road surface, breeze on our backs and the chance to freewheel down a gentle slope in the peace of a beautiful park-type facility. The Cemetery is an emotional inducing place where everything is peaceful, clean and tidy with wide paths allowing folk space. The brutality of war is clearly visible with the many white crosses marking where the fallen lay and I wept a silent tear or two.

After paying our respects to those who gave so much our thoughts turned to of their respective families and friends whose lives have been changed so much by the losses. We left  - changed by the experience. 

Kathy wanted to know how much further and in reply to 'another 25k'  told us to ' find a place to eat very soon'. Having found a suitable eatery we recharged on chips and coca cola and were soon ready to go on our way.

The rain stopped and breezed switched to be with us and we pushed on well ....until we encountered several consecutive long breathtaking climbs. Finally we reached ARROMANCHES and we swept down a steep hill only to find the campsite of choice was closed to tenting and the nearest campsite was a further 5k on the other side of another cheeky climb.

We stopped in town at the only grocery store, restocked and were soon on our way - one more big push!

The route took us past the viewpoint overlooking town and the Mulberry Harbour - (planned on Churchill's instructions back in 1942 - incredible planning / forethought) and one more downward slope into ASNELLE and our camping for the night.

The relief on Kathy's face when I told her that there was space for us (for 2 nights ) was a sight to behold. To say she was very tired qualifies as understatement of the year. The jokes had stopped long time before. Our only interest was to put up the tent, stretch, put on the kettle and eat yummy food followed by a glass of wine or two. While putting up the tent our new French neighbour was spotted to be feeding his chicken 'that travels with him on his holiday'....we nickname the chicken Dimanche Rote ... Sunday Roast. Naughty, but we were amused. 

The evening sky looked friendly and a bottle of red was enjoyed while we found solutions to every problem the world currently suffers. 

Rest day ARROMANCHES

We woke several times during the night as another night storm pumelled out tents. We woke to more little puddles within the tent but the chairs were dry this time and I had taken the precaution of unplugging the electric cable to ensure that we would be safe as possible from the lightening.

We woke to grey skies and after a light breakfast headed back up the hill to the viewpoint on east of ARROMANCHES. We stood to admire the new monument installed since our last visit 6? years ago

We visited the 360degree cinema where the story of the invasion by The Allies was told. A brilliant show, one not to be missed.

We left the bikes at the top of the hill to avoid cycling back up with the upcoming shopping. We down the steep slope to walk the streets of town before heading on out to the beach at full ebb and stood alongside a few of the floating concrete sea walls and blocks on which the steel road could be laid. Those enormous chunks of concrete were sailed / towed across the English Channel to form the Harbour in early June 1944. An incredible achievement.

We lunched on huge portions of muelles and fries followed by ice cream on the promenade. Inevitably the shop was closed for an elongated lunch. Eventually shopping was achieved and we hiked back up the steep hill to our bikes before sweeping down speedily to the campsite, an evening meal and early night as the rain returned and electric unplugged as a precaution.

To Pegasus Bridge/Ouisterham/Caen

We had a bit of a climb out of camp for 2 miles then enjoyed a slight downhill on very quiet roads and wind assisted we passed through many tiny villages and a small town before unexpectedly arriving in OUISTERHAM very close to our shop of choice.

Having shopped and stretched we set off to find the path following the Caen Canal on which Pegasus Bridge sits. Within 100 metres of getting on the path we passed several chaps who appeared to be living in the woods - poor sods.

3 miles later we turned left off the canal to pass over the world famous Pegasus Bridge. MAPS.ME showed that the camping was 200 metres off the bridge......but......it isn't. Despite this snag we found the camping 1k up the road and it was CLOSED for lunch. We telephoned the given number taped to the door with no answer. An hour later, at 15.00 the office was opened and we were given a place to camp for the night.

After a quick shower we headed back to Pegasus to visit the museum....a worthwhile hour of our time. Necessary photos taken we headed over the canal for a restaurant immediately next to the canal / bridge. As we arrived it closed for the day!!!! at 16.45!!!!! Fortunately opposite the restaurant is the most important house in France....the first to be freed from German control back in June 1944, now known as Cafe Gondree,

They cooked each of us an omelette and potato salad as a side dish and to wash it all down, a beer. The old lady owner came out to chat to us, curious about why we were out in the rubbish weather. I asked her if 'she was the lady we saluted from our square rigger 10 years ago as we sailed up the canal to Caen'.  'Quite possible' she said. She was the young child who witnessed the taking of the bridge in 1944 as has lived there ever since. the first freed French child....what an honour for us to talk with her. Suitably fed we returned to camping to pack what we could ready for an early start in the morning to catch the ferry back to Portsmouth.

Our original plan was to go from Portsmouth to Isle of Wight to take in the final stage of Tour of Britain but with the passing of the HM Queen ToB had been cancelled for the year. 

The ferry folk told us to arrive at 7.30 ready for an 8.30 sail. The alarm woke us at 6.30 and we packed up remaining items in the mud and rain and without breakfast we headed back to the canal path and the ferry.

As we reached the lads in tents we saw a big rat scamper over the path quickly followed by a river rat. Those poor lads. I hope they will be OK.

As we queued we talked with 2 older chaps who were also cycling, one was staying in Portsmouth and one going on to Poole so we agreed to travel as a foursome from the ferry. We passed through passport and customs without a hitch and were soon on a train to Southampton. At Southampton we swapped platforms using the lift and as we left the lift Patrick told us that the incoming train was headed to Bournemouth so 'get on it'.

We went non stop getting off at Bournemouth where the skies opened and everything in Bournemouth got soaked.

Patrick caught a busy train to Poole and suffered a wet ride back to Wimborne.

What a trip. Great company with many laughs. No disagreements, few mistakes and a pledge to do something like that again next year.

Thank you Kathy for the hauling of heavy bags. Thank you Patrick for your idea and your jokes