An account of the 2021 challenge to cycle to Switzerland, not get lost, find the sheep that was lost. and get back home,
Photos to be supplied …
It was Christmas 2019 that I’d last seen Phil. In March 2020 I was going to cycle up the Rhine, meet him again somewhere on the way, and pedal on to Switzerland. Basel is on the Rhine and just in Switzerland. The ferry from Hull to Rotterdam was booked. All you have to do is to keep going South.
Then travel was banned, so the crossing was deferred to September 2020. Travel was still banned. No reunion at Christmas either. OK, reschedule to March 2021. Still not possible. At last reschedule again to September 2021. A fortnight before leaving, P&O sent out an email that only essential travel was permitted from the UK to the Netherlands, Belgium and Luxemburg. Be prepared to be detained in quarantine for 8 days on disembarking at Rotterdam.
And then a cunning plan. It was still possible to enter France as long as you could promise “I hereby declare on my honour that I have not had any of the following symptoms during the last 48 hours …” andthat you had not been in contact with anyone who had Covid. How about Calais to Strasburg, meet Phil there, and do the extension to Switzerland another year? It was worth a go. Strasburg is surprisingly (to some of us) in France. You do not even have to enter these other countries that don’t want you, but it turned out that they did not seem to be so bothered about you being there if you came from France, so Plan E: Calais, over the Ardennes to Luxemburg to Germany to Strasburg. What could be simpler?
Aren’t the Ardennes mountainous? “If Hitler could do it, so can I”. Phil thought that was a very poor principle in life.
3 days after hearing that I couldn’t go by ferry to Rotterdam I had cycled down to Hull, booked a train to London with a bike reservation, hoped I could get a train to Dover with a bike in time for the last crossing to Calais, booked the ferry crossing, and a hotel for the night of Friday 24th September. Then started planning the route.
This was easy. Komoot is a German Company specialising in Satnav apps for Adventurous journeys. You just enter “Start: Calais; Destination: Strasburg. Go” And there it was – 410 miles of cycle route avoiding main roads. “Most people would do this in 6-13 days”. How about 12, then? I would cycle for 6 days each week, and rest on Sunday when there would be time to consider whether I really wanted to do this. It would allow for days off in case of lightning and thunder, flooded valleys, and general adverse circumstances. If everything went right, Switzerland was not impossible. I had been going out on Wednesdays each week cycling round the E Riding, typically covering 30-40 miles. The Yorkshire Wolds are hilly. Go for it.
I am notoriously hopeless at navigation, so invested in the Komoot app for the mobile, and a self-contained navigation device from Garmin.
Phil booked a train from Berlin to Straßburg (him being half German) which would arrive 20 days after I set off. What could possibly go wrong?
While I was away the house was available for a weekend break for anyone who cared to visit. There follows an account of the journey assembled from emails sent to Phil and a few extra bystanders.
The initial route. This was modified in detail over the journey.
Stage 0 Bridlington to Calais 24th September
Email 1: to Karol:
Am about to set off on the most hazardous part of the journey- getting to Dover by train in time for the last crossing.
Important information for anyone who visits-
Remember to hang the beakers over the taps –
Back: dark clear dark
Front: clear dark clear
Email 2: to an interested bystander:
I am on the train to Dover and expect to meet Phil in Strasburg on 14th October.
A whole team of good people have managed to get me this far. In spite of the fact that on the train to Doncaster I found that I had left my wallet behind. This was evident when the train ticket inspector turned up. He was very understanding – it probably happens all the time. So I got off at Driffield, failed to get a taxi and rang Katy who got Jeff to look in the kitchen, where he found the wallet on the table. He drove over to Driffield, wished me well, and sent me off happy.
Lots of other people muscled in to make sure I got to Dover – particularly 2 lovely LNER ladies at Doncaster. They went out of their way to get my bike on the train and to tell the train manager to make sure to get it off at King’s Cross
I get the idea that people think I am a confused old man who needs looking after.
Later: And here I am on the ferry eating my complementary fish and chips.
He doesn’t deserve it .
It wasn’t easy getting on the ferry, either. The docks were virtually deserted with no clear information about what you did with a bike. Occasionally there were signs which led you to cycle lanes which were then blocked off. I wandered all over the place until someone shouted at me. Apparently you find a queue and line up. There weren’t any. This was surprising. I would have thought that the last ferry to Calais on a Friday night would be jam packed full of people wanting to get home, or to run away from home. So I was at the head of Queue E, and its sole occupant and waited for someone to hail me. They did. I cycled on board, tied my bike up not very nautically against the side of the boat and went upstairs. This was a massive achievement. I now know how Hannibal felt when he started going down the other side of the mountain.
Calais docks were similarly largely deserted with no streams of cars and lorries to follow into town. I wandered off course for a bit and eventually stumbled across the hotel for the night.
Didn’t you use your Satnavs?
They were contradictory and useless. But I’m here.
Stage 1 Calais- Oxelaëre 25th September
Getting away from the hotel was almost as difficult as finding it. The 2 navigational systems quarrelled. I discovered that if I ignored one of them, the other one would eventually fall into line. Road closures didn’t help, but the Komoot app gave an overview of the area so at least gave me a chance of getting in the right general direction. It took me down back streets and along a route I could never have guessed, then at last an open road which they both agreed on and down a track by a canal.
I’m in Flanders which doesn’t seem to know if it’s French or Flemish by the look of the place names. It’s nearly been a good day. One or two lingering problems with the 2 different navigational systems I’m still trying to decide between. They give different instructions for identical routes (turn left/turn right)
One (the German one) thinks it’s OK to cut through passages that barely take a bike
But on the open road they each have their advantages giving reasonably consistent advice. One in yards, the other in feet.
Midday I stopped for a break after cycling for 3 hours. Should be at the final destination in a couple of hours more
But then noticed a message that the Mobile battery was low. Ah, I had half expected this but didn’t know how soon it would arise
Stayed where I was and ordered a plat de jour at a local restaurant
It was most excellent. I’ll do that routinely from now on- cycle for 3 hours then have a 3 hour break with some authentic local dish while recharging the phone
Technology is pretty good even when it’s not quite right.
Like giving you instructions how to find an accommodation location when towns and people are reticent about naming streets and properties.
Still, I met some most helpful 15 year old girls who did not know either, set me off in the wrong direction and thought they were being helpful.
In the end I phoned the property. They did not speak English but said they would drive to show me the way. The accommodation was about 200 yards away from where I was waiting.
So it’s Saturday night I’ve had my Saturday shave ready for Sunday and will now have my Saturday night bath and hair wash and will probably sleep deeply.
Tomorrow I will walk the 2 miles to Cassel, the nearest town, and look for a suitable Reformed church. Without much expectation of success even though Huguenots fled to Flanders to avoid Louis XIV
Rest Day 1 Oxelaëre 26th September
My cycling trips are always full of surprises.
Today being a rest day I reviewed the itinerary in the light of yesterday’s experience.
The general journey was set by Komoot- Calais to Strasburg by bike. They seemed to have carved up the itinerary into roughly equal sections about 35 miles a day. I added 10 miles to day 1, and intend to merge days 3 and 4. The route includes some seriously steep bits, so it seemed a good idea to travel farther on the relatively flat bits and to make the mountain sections shorter.
I have done the accommodation using booking.com this has been OK in the past.
The booking app on my phone says the next accommodation is in Strasburg. That’s funny, I definitely remember looking for somewhere round Lille. Still, I can do what I want.
I then managed to link into the house wifi, and started to look on my tablet.
There the email system said I had new messages. And there they were- confirmation of accommodation for the next 2 days. booking.com on the mobile does not seem to know anything about its friend on the tablet.
I will from henceforth keep a much better record of my Internet transactions. Or better, merge the 2 instances of the apps.
When we next meet, it will be helpful if you can give me a master class on modern technology. Which impresses me. And confuses.
I got back to my accommodation to find it was all locked up with the drawbridge (well, electronically controlled gates) shut. On the gate it says that my host is a hypnotherapist. I’m not sure whether to look him in the eye or not
Rain is forecast for tomorrow afternoon.
I will try to set off early
Stage 2 Oxelaëre – Lille 27th September
I’m in my room, warm and dry.
The socks, shoes and shorts will join me before the morning.
Other excellent features of the day include:
1. The hypnotherapist’s wife made me a most excellent breakfast, after which I did not need to eat again.
2. I have not lost my tablet. Nor, as far as I can tell, anything else.
3. I did not go very far down the slip road to the motorway
4. I think I may understand why Komoot sent me there
And having understood that, why it took me an hour and a half finding tonight’s accommodation which is 40 yards away from the slip road to the motorway, which I did find.
The more alert among you may have guessed that it rained today. A lot. This did not trouble me greatly as I have a new largely waterproof coat. It worked reasonably well, which is good.
The last 10 miles of the journey were through built up areas and not really worth coming a long way to travel along. Still I have now cycled through Armentiers, previously only known as featured in a rude 1st World War song about Mademoiselle from Armentiers (parlez vous) who hadn’t been kissed for 40 years but she had done a lot else.
Funny what you remember.
And the Komoot app?
It is evidently 40 yards out of synch with the real world. This explains why when it says turn Left NOW it means “well, soon enough”. I had noticed this before but hadn’t thought to apply the principle more generally.
I guess that the 1st 5 miles of tomorrow’s journey to get out of Lille will be a bit grim, but then on to Belgium.
Just a side thought…I was feeling a bit smug about knowing all about Lille from a Waverly Novel. Then looked it up on Wikipedia. It was Liege. Well, it was foreign. And began with “Li”
Stage 3 Lille-Bon Secours 28th September
I really haven’t got the hang of this technology.
So the route is set day by day. I have used booking.com to find accommodation each day
So far this has been excellent. Today satisfactory, but that’s OK.
Tomorrow I will cover 2 days’ worth of stages
And then? There is no accommodation listed for the end point of the next stage. I try to add what they call a way point to the journey, and they say “That’s a long way away”. I book the accommodation anyway having had a schoolboy French conversation with the host. And I like him.
From now on I will plan each stage by hand
It will do my knowledge of geography no end of good. I never got on with Ghandi Rae – so called because of his emaciated features rather than his commitment to human decency.
And here I am in a funny sort of hotel in Bon Secours, which, like the hotel, has seen better days. It is a small town. Most of the shops are boarded up and for sale. It seems to have 2 restaurants neither of which looks very inviting.
The hotel doesn’t have a restaurant, but does have a room containing 4 microwaves/ovens.
Ever resourceful, I looked for a shop which would sell me something to eat. The only one I could find was an Indian store which sold a few vegetables, no fruit, things I could only guess at, and various packets of frozen things. I bought a frozen pizza and am waiting for it to heat up.
The ride today was pretty straightforward. I had the usual problem of finding the accommodation at the end of the ride, but after getting out of Lille, it improved no end.
I spend the time reciting French irregular verbs and am again impressed by the quality of teaching in my old school.
However unlovely the teachers were
Ah, I forgot to say – I am in Belgium. I would sing the National Anthem if only I ķnew what it was.
Stage 4 Bon Secours-La Hestre 29th September
Today’s route certainly lived up to expectation. It included a note “contains a section in which cycling is forbidden “.
Or anything else.
The first 20 miles were unexceptional. The weather was ideal- dry and cool. Both the Satnav systems were utterly hopeless in Charleroi, probably confused by all the road construction going on in the centre of the town. But then out again on the path by the river, 2 miles along they gave contradictory directions- straight ahead or right over a bridge. Straight ahead. Then turn left where there was no turning. The Satnav is often out of sync with the real world so I kept going. “Make a U turn:. After messing around a bit I made a U turn. Then “Turn Right ” where there was no turning. There was however an improvised track up the bank to a bridge over the river, obviously blocked off. I hauled the bike and baggage up the bank with some difficulty. It was possible just about to pick my way along the edge of the bridge. At the other end the track got too narrow for the bike but some teenagers did a bit of fence adjusting for me unbidden, and I got across.
I had been a naughty child. It was good to relive those days. Teenagers are not entirely wicked. Just a bit.
I have thoroughly enjoyed today.
Stage 5 La Hestre-Gerpinnes 30th September
This morning I composed an introductory paragraph to the day’s proceedings expressing self-congratulations on the meticulous detail with which the expedition has been planned. Yesterday I merged information from phone and tablet and three instances of the booking app.
I now have a full list of …
Day number, date, stage number, and where the information about the bookings is, together with details of accommodation booked so far. At the end of this exercise I was delighted to find that I will arrive in Strasburg 9, yes 9, day’s early.
Ah, no. I had mis-remembered when I am meeting Phil.
Still, I do have 2 spare days in case of snow or, considering where I am, floods.
Just as well I lost the message.
Here is a useful tip for you all – do not forget to give thanks tonight that another day has passed in which you have not lost your phone. I was about to report mine as being lost and asked my hostess if she would ring EE for me. She rang my number instead, and it sprang into life under the counterpane.
After all that, today’s events have been positively unremarkable. I set off with a confident predication of heavy rain from the Met Office, so like Jehu, drave furiously. It did pour down a bit, but only for a few minutes. (I hate it when the IT know-alls demonstrate their evident lack of familiarity with King James English).
The hills were a bit of a challenge, but nothing like as serious as hills in the Yorkshire Wolds. Imagining I would be shattered today and considering abandoning the trip altogether, tomorrow’s planned ride is positively short. I will now set about finishing this week’s itinerary with greater confidence.
And don’t forget to give thanks for not losing your phone.
Stage 6 Gerpinnes- Valle de la Meuse 1st October
I am in a restaurant in a tiny village high up in the mountains. Well, steep hills. The food is magnificent. Their onion soup is even better than mine. Which I thought was very good until now. I have just finished the main course which was something I know not what. The menu board says croquettes de cruettes maison. It will be difficult staying awake until bed time this evening.
Karol is now the dietary advisor for the trip. I am not drinking enough liquid apparently
Observing her advice I drank from the water bottles every half hour or so. This has side effects. Do proper cyclists just wet their pants? Advice required.
The ride today was a bit tough and not just because of the hills. The route went for several miles on unsurfaced roads through a forest and then along tracks described as “route agricole”, better travelled over on a tractor. Still, much shaken, I arrived on a properly surfaced road reminiscent of Dartmoor roads. Steep
Tomorrow will be a big challenge at the end of which I will reconsider my life. The hills get really steep. If it turns out to be beyond me I will look for the nearest railway station and make for it
I will have all Sunday to recover.
Speaking of which, I may have planned my wardrobe unwisely. I have of course a Sunday suit, shirt and tie, but only one weekday shirt. I have however 4 sweatshirts and jumpers.
Stage 7 Valle de la Meuse- Libramont, Bras Haut 2nd October
So here I am at midday eating the fourth of my cookies and having had the 6th of my drinks and the 4th of my pees
I was a bit apprehensive about today. The original plan was to have a strenuous Saturday before a day of rest. Then when I looked at today’s climbs I half doubted my ability.
So I have cycled for a good 3 hours on a variable route, some of it easy-a good 8 miles of what must have been a railway once – some of it highly agricultural. My Garmin device tells me I’m about to start climb 3 of 4. From which you may infer I have completed 2.
I will wait for another 30 minutes to give my phone time to recharge then onward and upward.
To be continued …
… and now after another 2 hours of cycling and getting lost I am in a warm house with breakfast ordered for tomorrow, sitting in bed to warm up my feet. I used 3 of my 4 sweat suits and jumpers today. It gets cold up here.
I will still do as planned and look up the nearest railway station, but no longer feel it is impossible for a foolish old man to try. For the record my favourite Shakespeare quotation is “I am a very foolish fond old man”
Now here’s a thing- a lot of people you would not expect, know all about cyclists urinating
Make October your “Do good to an old man” month
This morning I was cycling down a muddy lane and came across 2 men who had blocked off the path and were doing something to improve it probably
One of them saw that I was going to have a problem getting my bike down the makeshift steps they had constructed so picked it up for me, baggage and all, and set me on a parallel smooth path.
I am maybe not as stupid as you think
Even though I had really made the decision to keep going it was worth looking up train stations and times. I discovered a station with the name of the local village from which you can get a series of trains to Strasburg. It could yet be a fall back. Thinking about it, it is extremely unlikely that there is a railway running through the mountains. There isn’t. The one with a station is somewhere with a similar name. Then I decided to try the strategy “here to Strasburg by bike in 9 days”. That looked reasonable. “Here to Basel in 10 days” doesn’t look impossible. We will see how it goes. I could get a train from Basel to Strasburg.
You have plenty of time to think while cycling. I must have climbed an Ardenne.
Then find accommodation for Monday night. Then book it. Then look at the hill profile. Hey I have done the worst bit. It’s not exactly downhill all the way and there are still tough sections but nothing as difficult as today’s trail. However I have been known to miss some crucial detail.
Tomorrow, being a Sunday I will attempt to memorise the Parable of the Prodigal Son in Greek. It’s going to rain all day and it’s Sunday.
It still looks as though I have passed the highest peak.
Rest day 2 Libramont, Bras Haute 3rd October
Sunday afternoon. I looked out and saw that it had stopped raining. The weather forecast still said heavy rain all day, but perhaps they had mixed up the 2 places with the same name just like me. I could do with more to eat than the biscuits cheese and ham that I bought yesterday so set off with a will to the next town with a choice of restaurants. Half a mile down the road it started to rain again. I upped the pace and reached a covered area by the local school just before it fell down. So I sat on the floor and made as good a feast as I could with what I had. The rain let up a bit and I’m sat in bed warming up again.
Stage 8 Libramont, Bras Haute-Tintange 4th October
I have just realised that I haven’t taken any photos of the venture. Part of the reason is that the only time I use the camera is on the 1st of each month when I take about a dozen pictures of the allotment. The other reason is the annoying assumption by both Satnav systems that I want to brag about my astounding achievements to their communities. Concerning that, it would be good if they would include a “British” profile in their personal details. This would include not needing exaggerated congratulations and a certain reticence. Or even a declaration “I am a grown up”. They both want me to send pictures of my achievements. So I don’t. I may overcome this bloody mindedness if there really is anything worth recording. Like that bridge over the river. Pity I missed that.
It is now 06:30 Monday morning. Yesterday I received a series of messages from tonight’s hosts asking whether I would like to join them for an evening meal, a glass of wine and a bottle of beer. After some negotiations they agreed to leave out the alcohol. My big worry is that it will all end up with a game of poker.
Now for another excellent breakfast.
Chattering away in my unique form of French I realised again how good the teachers were in school so long ago. Teachers probably still are, but you never ever think to thank them. If you do keep a list of things to give thanks for each day, do remember your old teachers. Well, some of them.
Off en route and within half a mile along another route agricole. It’s a relatively easy day today, only 2 climbs. Nothing like Saturday’s heroic effort.
After the heavy rain yesterday the path is muddy, so I decide to push. The path merges with a less difficult path in half a mile and I’m back on the bike and on to another properly surfaced road within 2 more miles. Up climb 1. Call that a climb? Climb 2 looks more challenging.
It was. But no matter, I pushed up the really steep bits which were part of an off road track anyway.
I arrived at tonight’s accommodation 4 hours early. There are no shops or restaurants in the village, nor in the next one. I looked up the local administrative centre which is 4 miles away and set off. What’s 4 miles? It is very hilly. There are no shops or cafés here either. Enter Providence. I had just established with a local engineer from the Service Travaux that the nearest shop is 14 kilometres away when a van came along from a boulangerie. I waved him down and he sold me an assortment of pastries.
“So where are you?”
I am and am not in Luxembourg. In Luxembourg Belgium, but not Luxembourg Luxembourg. Tomorrow I cross another frontier.
The apartment was excellent and the meal could not have been better. They did not want me to sit with them and make conversation, or play strip poker, but just brought round a nourishing bowl of soup and then a pasta dish. I supplemented this with a sticky iced bun from the van.
Then the big decision- to make it possible to get to Basel next Thursday. So tomorrow will be a longer ride but without much climbing. If I don’t enjoy it, Basel will be off.
Stage 9 Tintange-Sampon 5th October
I hadn’t remembered whether breakfast was an option this morning. It wasn’t
So I set off on the strength of another sticky bun, a jam pasty, and a thing with loads of currents in it. I will eat better later in. the day.
The ride today was positively routine. It did include 3 climbs though.
I reached my destination 4 hours early, and am on my way to the big town nearby to find a restaurant that doesn’t mind if its clientele turn up in cycling shorts. It’s going to rain
Morale remains high
I spend a lot of time thinking about my strange childhood which at the time seemed perfectly normal. It was a very happy one though.
Heavy rain was forecast for the late afternoon. I set off in good heart, cheered up by crossing a railway line. Arlon is full of shops and restaurants, but it had started to rain, and most of the restaurants looked as though they would be a bit sniffy serving a wet client in cycling shorts. I even looked for a McDonald’s, but found a creperie which didn’t look as if it would turn down custom. It was not full. It was now raining hard. So I ordered one of the larger options from the menu. The owner repeated my order pronouncing it differently. I repeated the order with a more authentic pronunciation. He got me to try it again
And again.
He then saw that his aim in life was to make another French speaker and we started another lesson. We went through the menu.
Then: “Je suis mouille”.
He repeated this but clearly articulated each of the many syllables. I repeated them. And seemed to have got it more or less right after 3 or 4 attempts.
The crepe was OK. We had amused each other well enough and it started to really rain compared to which the earlier downpour was merely a drizzle
I set off. “Mon peau est impermeable “. He did not have time to correct my pronunciation or vocabulary or grammar (it should have been ma peau). And then it really really rained
Now here’s a thing. About a month ago I had stolen a demister cloth from the Priory lost property cupboard after turning up wet. It may have been another case of erring and straying, but now came in extraordinarily handy. I have never cycled in such rain in my life before, but my vision was little impaired. Unlike my shorts and socks and shoes.
At the night’s lodgings my hostess for the night took my wet clothes and put them in her clothes drier. By 21:00 I couldn’t stay awake and went to bed
Stage 10 Sampon-Mondorf 6th October
9 1/2 hours later I woke up.
Another brilliant breakfast repairing I hope some of the last 2 days imbalances. Then onwards. And upwards to Arlon again up what they thought was a climb.
They know nothing.
A relatively uneventful day’s cycling until I reached the conurbation of Luxembourg City. The 2 navigation systems were at variance with each other. It took me ages and many mistaken turnings when I could at last get out into the country again. After a stop for a pee and a drink, in that order I set off past a barrier along a track. The mobile battery ran out
By this time the 2 systems were reconciled so I put the mobile in the pannier charging up and navigated using just the Garmin. It was OK. It coped well with the track turning into a field and took me to a proper road. I had already exceeded the miles for the day. It must have been all the mistaken turnings in Luxembourg.
But I remained cheerful until it declared I had reached the end in a tiny village. By now the mobile had charged up enough and correctly showed the end point about 2 miles away. It then took me the now standard 2 hours to find it. Part of that time was spent in a Patisserie eating an extraordinary salad pescada and a life-ending cream confection with toffee blobs at either end.
All that remains to do is to find accommodation for tomorrow. I had booked a room in La Dolce Vita and then thought better of it.
Stage 11 Mondorf- Rehlingen 7th October
Once again I am ashamed of my ignorance of Geography
Yesterday I decided to have a go at going all the way to Basel
Today I started to book accommodation. One of the locations persistently claimed to be in les Vosges. Well fancy that. How long have they been there? They look a bit hilly as well
So I will still be ready to give it up if it’s all too much but feel it’s not impossible. The route goes through Strasburg anyway.
What caused you to make this decision?
It was the discovery that I had booked accommodation in the same area 2 nights running. La Dolce Vita, which I had cancelled, and a much less exciting apartment a few miles away. So they let me come a day early to the second booking and this gave me an extra day
Are you all aware of the Butland family motto? “Making the best of a bad job.”
My mobile is broken.
To be continued.
There was an intermission. In the evening I was able to send the following message:
They called it a climb. it was just a long hill. Then through the lovely autumn countryside, avoiding all the red squirrels which ran across the road. Well, both, and there was no chance I could catch them. There have now been about half a dozen red squirrels streaking across the road so far. Along a river to Schengen, displaying any number of proud EU posters. Up 22 steps to a fully functioning bridge, across the river to Germany, and on to climb 2. Climb and a half 2. It went on for over 5 miles. No matter, I had plenty of time. I got off and pushed several times and about half way up some kind soul had put a bench. I sat down, set the mobile to recharge, and peeled one of the windfall pears I had picked up early in the day. Then drank some more water and ate some Gouda cheese bought at an up-market shop in the morning, and was addressed in German by a hiker coming down the road. I replied in French, not wanting these foreigners to think that us Brits have no linguistic skills.
The whole hillside was covered in rows of vines heavy with grapes. There was a loud explosion which startled the hiker. “Pour effrayer les oiseaux”.and then to make her feel at home, “die vogel”. It turned out she was Dutch and spoke perfectly good English. We enjoyed being appalled by Boris and his mentor Donald. She deplored demagogues in the Netherlands. We parted saddened by the way people who ought to know better pretend to be heroes by demonising aliens.
And then upwards and upwards until the top. The road flattened out for a bit then weeee…
And then my chain slipped out of the sprockets. No matter. I took the panniers off, and turned the bike upside down. The mobile slipped out of its holder on to the road. It was cracked. It stopped responding to tapping and swiping and started to behave strangely with the NHS app showing more sign of life than ever before.
OK. I set it charging again and put it with the charger in one of the panniers. This would at least be a test of the theory of evolution. Under pressure would it develop new circuits to repair the damaged ones?
(footnote: not yet. We shall have to wait and see.)
So flying on one engine I navigated the last 12 miles using only the Garmin which was OK up to the last 50 yards. But I had remembered the address 11 Schillerstrasse.
So what do I do? The mobile will work a bit until it pulls a tantrum. I guess its useful days are over. Can I buy another model, put in my Sim card and carry on as if nothing happened? Which one? Will my contract be affected?
Advice and suggestions welcome.
I intend to hook my tablet into wifi thingies for now and will attempt to send a daily message
Stage 12 Rehlingen-Sarreguemines 8th October
Today’s route looks pretty straight forward – most of it along canals and the river Saar which flows through Saarbrücken. This is a seriously big city which must be full of people who can sell me a new phone. I modified the route to include a detour into the main station by including a waypoint, believing that a waypoint was a point on the way. The distance for the journey went up by about 8 miles, so that will be alright. I had eaten my breakfast the evening before, so would call in somewhere for breakfast.
My only working navigation device did not start well. It would have me go back down the cul de sac I started from. Ignoring that, I set off back down the way I had come. Soon enough it gave in, and took me along a half-plausible route through a track through a forest, and then on to a cycle track by a canal. Well, yippee. The route left the canal for a while, and then ran alongside a river. For miles. It was a beautiful day. The cycling was easy, the forests were red and yellow with autumn colours. After a couple of hours I could see the city at the other side of the river. And breakfast? I’d have a11:00 snack in the city. But the Satnav had me cycling on and on. Past the city. Past the man who would sort out my phone. A waypoint is obviously not what I thought it was. At last there was a restaurant next to the cycle route. Closed on Fridays. I made a half-hearted effort to find a shop which would sell me something to eat, but it looked as though this was an industrial area. So back on to the cycle route.
And there it was. A genuine restaurant. Open. “Last orders 13:45”. I checked the time – 13:10 – and just to make sure, checked that 13:10 was before 13:45. It was. Everything was in French. The people were all talking French. I was in France. And the menu could not have been better. ”Plat du jour” in all its particulars, starting with a salad, moving on to a fish course, and ending with a brilliant ice cream.
“I shouldn’t have done that” – a phrase often heard on my lips over the past 78 years (I was a precocious child) but never more true than today. But even so, missing breakfast turned out to be not so bad as it might have been.
I sat by the side of the river for half an hour to digest the meal and then on by the river to Sarreguemines. Easy cycling.
Stage 13 Sarreguemines-La Petite Pierre 9th October
“The most remarkable thing about your journey is that you haven’t lost anything. “
Ah, not exactly. My trainers may well end up given to the poor of Rehlingen and I may have started with more socks than I seem to have now. And I only have one glove. But apart from that you are quite right.
Yesterday night was spent in Sarreguemines. I had never heard of it before, but it has a University, is on the river Saar and is a proper big town. I could have solved the phone problem there but left it to the morning. Just as well. Karol told Robin about my problem. He emailed me: “It’s happening all the time. Take it to a phone mender and they will fix it.”
He also told me other encouraging stuff that I did not understand.
That cheered me up no end. In the evening I went into the town full of students, and bought a most excellent pizza, served by the tattooed lady.
I had ordered breakfast for the next day. The hotel owner told me I would be on my own. “What time would you like it?” “What’s the best time for you?”, “Half past 8”, “That’s fine”.
In the morning I was going to go into the town to buy some writing paper, postcards and stamps. In the foyer was a very present lady who asked whether her music had bothered me. “I had slept so well I didn’t know it was on”.
This endeared me to her. “I am a divorcee” and she started to tell me the story of her life- about her criminal husband and the book she was going to write and the film they would make of it. “Where are you going?” “Out to buy some Postcards and stamps. “I’ll take you there.” More about her Iranian husband and the tricks he got up to cheat her of all the money that should be hers and the corrupt lawyers and her daughter that he had got the judge to say that she should not see because she was insane. By this time she had forgotten all about my stamps and postcards and invited me to breakfast. I reminded her that I was having breakfast in the hotel. “I’ll join you” She found a little shop. I chose some cards and ordered some stamps and she took me back to the hotel for breakfast and told me more stories of her despicable husband.
It was a relief to get back on the road. To a most beautiful morning and an excellent ride.
The sun shone and the birds sang and I was free.
There’s a problem with the sun shining. You can’t see the Satnav displays. However with a number of false turnings I climbed the big hill and eventually found le hotel des Voges.
It is wonderful. All that a hotel should be in a terrific village. I have bought some supplies for next week so will not cycle all morning without eating again.
I thought again about how good Judy was during the morning monologue. Reticence is a much underrated virtue.
Rest Day 3 La Petite Pierre 10th October
Let me commend to you all the old Puritan (Well, Jewish) practice of Sunday (Saturday) observance. And here am I about to go down to breakfast and preventing a host of other people from joining in. Perhaps they are all Jewish. Today will be free from toil and care. Not that care often comes into it.
It will be another fine day. The birds will sing. The sun will shine.
So, tomorrow Strasburg. I could do Basel in a further 3 days. 2 even if I wanted. We shall see. This is a terrific hotel. Best one yet. I am normally careful/frugal/tight. Not this weekend. Full of delight at getting this far. Up a Vosge yesterday. No problem
And it’s almost all downhill tomorrow.
All kinds of things drift through your mind as you cycle along. Like … what exactly am I going to do with the gentile allouette? We know they’re French and do dreadful things to geese, but to allouettes? Them being French-Canadian isn’t much of an excuse.
I wrote yesterday’s report hastily, insofar as you can tap out a message hastily on a broken phone. I omitted to say that my breakfast companion yesterday paid for the postcards and stamps and left me her name, address, email address and phone number. You must advise me what to do.
But to Today.
Another terrific breakfast. Juice, cereal, croissant, cheese, more cheese, yoghurt, bread roll, peach and coffee.
It is my custom and practice to have no breakfast on Sunday and a big 12:00 dinner starting with Yorkshire pudding and onion gravy. Not today.
I set off aimlessly in the warm sun with the birds singing and the world merry. The bell of the local church was ringing. This is no day to be miserable. There was no information about what services were scheduled, or whether or not they thought it was a good idea to set fire to people who disagreed with them, but I went in anyway.
It had a very pleasing simple interior and I sat down at the back. There were two elderly ladies inside doing things.
One of them climbed the steps of the pulpit with difficulty, and pulled the hymn board to herself and set up 4 sets of cards from a box. Then climbed carefully down.
Someone spoke to her and gave her a piece of paper. She slowly climbed back up and put 4 more sets of cards alongside the first 4. Then came back down and looked to see whether she had got them right. And realised. So she went back up a third time and swung the board so that we could all see it. They were hymn numbers and the number of verses for each hymn.
Then someone gave me a hymnbook. As usual I read the preface. Yippee the Psalms are from the 16th Century Reformed translation. I spoke to the lady who gave me the book. “Etes vous Reformee?” “Lutherienne”. Even better. More people came in until there were about 10 of us. None of us under 50. The preacher came in. He was probably the youngest one there. As seems to be common with Lutheran Hymn books it included tunes with all 4 parts. We sang all of them. And more. They were jolly tunes with jolly rhythms. I adopted my usual practice of la la-ing the first verse while following the tune. Then singing the words of the first verse which were immediately under the tune while everyone else had moved on. Then keep singing the first verse until I could match the words and the tune. We all sang heartily. As we should. I noticed there were a lot of references to joie and esperance in spite of toutes nos detresses for Nous sommes dans sa main.
Just what you need. The preacher preached well judging by the attention paid by as many of his congregation who had the first idea what he was saying.
I had put all the money set aside for dinner in the collection plate (discreetly covered by a cloth with a hole in which you put your money).No matter. Back in the hotel I ate some fruit bread and cheese which I had bought for the journey.
And went to bed. And slept soundly.
Now here’s a thing. I always eat dinner at 12:00 at home and go to bed to sleep. It has surprised me that I have not started to mind the disruption to the routine while on the ride, and have slept for a good 9 hours at night. I wonder what will happen tonight?
This has been the best day so far.
Stage 14 La petite Pierre –Strasburg 11th October
Yesterday was a good day. Today will be good if only I can thread my way through the streets and cycle paths of Strasburg. I had originally bought the Garmin device to stop getting lost on the Grand Tour
To get it to prove its worth I had tried it out on the streets of York where I always get lost. It was hopeless. It sent me into car parks, down blind alleys and kept sending me back the way I came. Part of the problem seems to be that it doesn’t really know where I am.
Easily the most difficult part of each day’s journey has been setting off and finding the accommodation at the end of the day.
So I have 2 navigation systems. The Komoot app includes a clear symbol at the top of the display showing turn left or right or bend a bit or go straight on. This does not know where I am either but it does include a map of the route you are following shown in blue. Superimposed on the route is a red line showing where you have gone and a red blob for where you are now. I therefore wheel the bike trying to match the route taken with the planned one. You at least get a sense of direction so that you can see when you start to go off course and back track. When I started off this morning I was obviously going the right way while the Garmin displayed “Make a U turn.” After a bit the Garmin gives in and shows the correct instructions.
This morning started bright and clear. I was the first down to breakfast and the manager asked me what I was doing today. He seemed pleased, gave me a plastic bag and told me to pack a lunch from the splendid display of all the things on offer. This is only the latest of many things that people have done to make the journey a success. So fortified by another splendid breakfast and with a bag of rolls and cheese and fruit and things that were alive once, I went down to oil the bike.
O magnify the Lord with me, with me exalt His name
When in distress to Him I called, He to my rescue came.
There, wrapped around the hub of the back wheel was the missing glove.
He isn’t so good at shoes, though.
I had thought a lot about the pleasure of singing. We used to sing every day. At school in Assembly, in the school choir. Just about at every opportunity at Chapel, so that every Sunday we must have sung 20 times over. It’s a very happy activity if you can enjoy it. We learnt part singing which made it even more fun. Some of the stuff we sang was nonsense, but we sang it. Both Judy and I had a rich repertoire of songs and hymns. One of the pleasures of reading her letters from the 1960’s was recognising all the mischievous misquotations. So today I would sing on the ride.
It was a good ride. Spoilt by the cycle track along the canal being blocked off and no indication of where you should go. It would be good to report that the sweet birds sang, but they rather honked and quacked. Well they did their best.
It took a long time to find it, but I eventually clocked in at tonight’s hotel shortly after 15:00.
It is in the centre of Strasburg. Foolishly, maybe, I have chosen to do the rest of the ride to Basel in 2 days. And that will be it. A day in Basel to negotiate taking a bike by train to Strasburg and to look round then meet Phil again for the first time in nearly 2 years.
It will be good to see him again. I wonder if I’ll recognise him.
Stage 15 Strasburg- Breisach am Rhein12th October
This is the longest scheduled ride of the whole trip. I may have done more miles on days when I got lost, but I have quite unnecessarily given myself a long (for me) haul today. There are those who would polish it off before breakfast. Not me. We all know that pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall, but I’m not particularly proud and would die before getting haughty. Stupid maybe. On the other hand the divorcee did admire my legs, presumably ignoring the scars and oil stains.
The weather forecast claims it will be dull and showery. I will take the problems one at a time. Problem 1: get out of Strasburg. Once that is solved the rest will be easy.
Back in the real world, Avril completed the JBMemorial swim in Bridlington last week. She was a day or two late, but it has been my custom to swim in the sea for the last time each year on Judy’s birthday- October 6th. The sea in Bridlington is not exactly warm in October. Avril is a hero. And when it comes to Home Thoughts from Abroad I wonder if the greenhouse seeds have germinated. Derek said he would see to watering them while I was away.
But none of this is to any purpose. Tomorrow I must escape from the city after an 06:30 breakfast.
Slept soundly until 06:00 so did not make it down to breakfast until 06:40. It was another good one – this time with fruit on offer, and a basket of eggs labelled oeufs crus. This looked like raw eggs. I asked the lady at reception “sont ils bouilles?” “Non”, and she showed me a metal dish of boiling water and a set of metal baskets. She put an egg in one of them, put it in the water, started the timer on her watch, said “cinque minutes” and went away. Now all students of Delia know that you put an egg into boiling water for 1 minute, then turn the heat off, then leave it in the hot water for 4 minutes. What do these French know about cooking? I hastily set the timer on my watch for 1 minute, then reset it. And again until it felt like 4 minutes. It wasn’t bad. Just not as good as Saturday breakfast at home. The roll and butter were good for dunking.
I had plenty of cheese and rolls and fruit, 2 cups of coffee, some cereal and yoghurt. Then sat down to let it all settle, so it was about 07:45 before I left for the day’s journey.
Getting out of Strasburg was easier than expected. One or two false turnings, and several arguments between the 2 navigation systems, but after 30 minutes I was out of the city cycling at the side of a canal. The Garmin said “Left in 14 miles” which sounded very good. It was even better when the left turn just took you over to the other side of the canal for a few hundred yards, then back over again and on and on. After a couple of hours I stopped to recharge the mobile batteries, have another drink, eat some chocolate I had bought on Saturday, and take a photo. Nothing much, just a canal lock, but it was something.
Have I yet told you about our lack of photos at home? Both Judy and Phil hated having their photographs taken. Something to do with the camera stealing your soul, probably. When the Guardian asked for a photograph of Judy, I didn’t have any. The best I could do was to find one of her and me being friendly, then editing me out. The only time I use a camera is to take photographs of the allotment on 1st of each month.
And on and on for maybe a total of 30 miles. Easy cycling. The water to my left was flowing down hill, so I was climbing all the time but oh so gently.
When I eventually left the canal it was to go along a road with fast traffic, but there was a cycle lane most of the way. I was in Germany again. After about 4 miles of cycling on the road the route took me off to a rough track through woods for about 5 miles. And very pleasant it all was.
Eventually off to a series of quiet roads until I reached the hotel. For the first time in the whole enterprise both Satnav systems took me to exactly the planned destination.
So … only 1 day to go and I will be in Switzerland, and die happy.
“You’ve got to do it first”.
Just so.
My mobile is giving me more and more problems. Only 85pc of the screen is now visible, I am composing this on the tablet and will then send it to the mobile when I will send it on to you. It all makes some sort of sense. To me.
Stage 16 Breisach am Rhein -Basel 13th October
It is 20:00 and I’m only just in my room for the night having entered Switzerland at 13:30.
“Whatever have you been doing?”
Looking for the/a hotel.
But let’s start positive.
You are probably all asking “What is the well-dressed cyclist wearing?”
Starting from bottom to top it is
His Sunday socks and soft indoor shoes
His cycling shorts and his Sunday trousers
In order: sweat shirt, shirt, long sleeved jumper, Judy’s thick woollen jumper, short sleeved pullover, waterproof coat, gloves and helmet.
It was chilly yesterday morning for the 1st 2 hours of cycling. Snow was forecast for bits of Switzerland, so they all went on with the knowledge that they could all come off if it got too hot.
Another excellent breakfast. There were individual dishes with tomatoes and three slices of things they used to tell you about in Chemistry: odourless, flavourless substances. I’ve no idea what they were, but had been brought up to eat them all up and to be thankful. Karol’s mum used to say “remember Belgium”. For us it was the little boys and girls in Africa. There were plenty of other things as well.
I switched the mobile on and found that now only 80% of the display was visible. And it wouldn’t swipe to start. No matter – I’ll just use the Garmin. An hour later I left the town. It sent me one way and the next. Some directions were clearly crazy. At one point it came up with the message “weird”.
I negotiated back to the beginning twice. Every so often I had another go at waking up the mobile. No good. Then I wheeled the bike watching carefully where it seemed to think I was and then I was out of town on the road. It appeared to behave normally after that. After a couple of pleasant hours of easy cycling I stopped, did the customary liquid output/input, ate the rest of the chocolate, and had one more go at the phone. It leapt into 80% of a life. I then started the Komoot app with the route for the day. It objected for a bit “We weren’t going to start here” but soon enough was showing the map of where we were. The sun was shining and I took my Sunday trousers off, leaving the cycling shorts. And sweetly did the 2 navigation systems agree. We passed from Germany to France and back again several times. I was making (for me) decent speed. Not rushing, but a steady pace. Then the 2 systems quarrelled. I took what appeared to be a dirt track by a river which was OK and rattled on. The Garmin moaned “Off Course” but continued to give directions largely consistent with the app.
And then I made the mistake of taking another break for an exchange of liquids, set the mobile to charge, then had a look to see what emails had arrived. Nothing much. Switching back to Komoot everything went crazy. It started firing up the NHS app, then email, then the weather, then Komoot. I poked things at random. And the screen went blank. And I couldn’t persuade it to start again. No matter. I put the mobile on to charge in the pannier, and used the Garmin to navigate. It wasn’t that it went in the wrong direction. It just selected the most unfriendly routes – along roads with heavy traffic. Every so often I got the general idea that it was going in the right direction. Over the Rhine into Germany, and eventually a welcome sign to Basel. But the route wasn’t much fun. Give me dirt tracks any day.
And eventually yippee. The customs control for Switzerland.
I got the phone out again, woke it up successfully this time, and tried for the first time in my life to take a selfie. I really wanted just to take a photograph of the customs post and sign, but the ailing phone would only do selfies. Starting with feet. I had a go with the tablet as well, but couldn’t get the camera to work at all. It didn’t work. Maybe I poked the wrong blobs. Maybe it took a dim view of self advertisement.
But the really good thing was that both navigation systems were in synch.
And the really bad thing was that they were both saying “Go back to Germany”
For several miles they were in synch, taking me farther and farther away from Basel. They both took me to a large lake, and then quarrelled again.
“Stuff this for a lark, I’m going back to the customs post and into Basel.”
That was better. Through into Basel. The 2 systems both complained I was going the wrong way but eventually gave sensible directions suggesting they were only playing earlier.
I had a bright idea. I would set the Komoot app to plan a route from wherever I was to the Hotel.
And then realised I didn’t know where it was. That is, I didn’t have a name or an address or anything.
Now I had written the names of all the accommodation I had booked in s notebook. Eventually, it was much later, I thought “Perhaps I never boked anywhere.”
It’s always possible.
The Basel Information Bureau was still open. They found me this hotel.
Well, hooray.
Tomorrow all I have to do is to find a train to Strasburg that will take a bike.
Thursday October 14th The prodigal father and son meet
I regretted yesterday’s report immediately after sending it. A bit short of the joie de vivre. I was tired. It could have waited. Until this morning when after another deep sleep all of life’s problems fall into perspective. One of the really good side-effects of knowing Judy so well and so long is that it doesn’t leave much scope for self-pity. “Cheerful in adversity” as Baden Powell put it so well. I shall look out for some struggling sailor to rescue today.
Here are today’s challenges:
1. Find the railway station
2. See if they will take a bike to Strasburg
3. See if anyone will mend my phone
4. Find someone who needs a Good Turn
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come…
So what could possibly go wrong now?
There’s always getting home.
I had planned getting a series of trains to Rotterdam, then getting the ferry to Hull. Then looked at the P&O site. There are still all kinds of restrictions going to the UK from the Netherlands. There were loads of links to quarantining and filling in forms before departure.
Well, how about getting Eurostar from Strasburg to London? Will they take a bike? That is something to investigate.
“You could always bike back to Calais”
“Thank you”.
The only way I’m going to be able to get the bike back home is to take it in a bag.
So down to the massive sports shop near the train station. They are fresh out of bike bags, but they know someone who’s got some. The most helpful assistant says a name and address and writes them down.
The plan for today is to meet Phil. His organisational genius will make the crooked straight and the rough places plain. Or vice versa. But it will be good to see him anyway.
And are we yet alive?
Yes and little changed, so no problems of recognition.
When Phil arrives we look at the paper with the name and address on and can read neither.
Phil does some purposeful poking, looking for local sports shops and comes up with an address that looks something like the one written down. Phil finds it on a map and we’re off.
They were expecting us. I had wheeled my bike there and asked if they would dismantle it for me. “Do it yourself”. I’m an old man” “Alright then” and a very competent young man took it apart and packed it nicely. 20 minutes later he had finished. There’s no way I could have done that. Phil then heroically carried it a good 400 yards to a tram stop. It was heavy. Into town then a taxi to the hotel then out for a pizza.
The lady at the reception desk knows someone who mends phones.
Friday 15th October
I have managed to work out what probably happened in Basel to cause such confusion the other day.
1. The broken phone was at the bottom of the cyclist unfriendly route.
2. The Satnav systems shouldn’t have sent me back into Germany. That one is obvious. Maybe I had unknowingly set a waypoint somewhere.
3. Where I went wrong was in not finding accommodation before setting the route. This had been my custom and practice. However on that day I had started from the previous accommodation and just poked a location in the middle of Basel to see whether it was do-able. It certainly was. I quite possibly poked a location in the middle of a block of flats. This caused both systems to have a sense of inadequacy. It also explains why I had no record of the address.
Well, that felt better.
There will be a review at the end.
It will contain the obvious reflection that it was stupid to go on my own.
But it was a good challenge, and I’m really pleased I did it.
And almost proud. Although that is a most un-lovely human failing
Phil and I went to a small town about 20 miles outside Strasburg to see an exhibition about a 20th century song writer called something like Gainsbourg. His take on the family name Ginsberg. I bet you never knew that Thomas Gainsborough was Jewish.
We have started to work out how the public transport system works. It’s pretty impressive.
Saturday 16th October
The problem with getting back home is dealing with a heavy bike in a bag which I can only just carry. After much discussion with Phil we decided the best way to get back to Brid was either:
1. Train to Lille and then Eurostar to London St. Pancras. Apparently Eurostar goes from the same station as the Strasburg trains
Or:
2. Get a Flix coach from Strasburg to Luxembourg then another one to London Victoria coach Station. Then taxi to King’s Cross
Do not try to take a heavy bag with a bike in it from Strasburg to Paris East, then cross Paris to the Gare du Nord to Eurostar to London.
He went out. I set about negotiating with web sites. I take a not entirely irrational exception to agreeing to downloading cookies. This limits choices, especially when the web sites are in foreign
So it’s Strasburg to Paris East then Gare du Nord to London. Perhaps I can get a taxi. Perhaps the world will end and the problem will be solved at a stroke. Perhaps a travelling rugby player going back home will get into conversation and offer to carry it for me. Lots of possibilities.
Phil shrugged his shoulders in a very continental manner, absolved himself of all responsibilities. “Don’t blame me”
The world is full of dreadful things, but there is still room for happy surprises.
Sunday 17th October
We have been playing the harmless game of getting on the next bus/tram and going where it takes us. We went across the Rhine to Germany yesterday. There we identified an Evangelische Kirche which I will attend tomorrow which is now today. It has been good seeing Phil. You may not have noticed but we are quite different. But are interested in the same sort of things. Except Art and attending morning service. Pity that. And singing.
Unless something exceptional happens the next report will be tomorrow. Probably on the way home having solved all problems. Possibly in the company of a rugby player. Possibly not.
Just in time for the morning service. It was a socially distanced event in another proper Reformed church with a simple interior.
And some good serious singing- From printed sheets without the music. The tunes were all good predictable chorale types without last week’s jolly rhythms, so the lack of musical notation was not critical and I could guess the tunes and sing all the verses.
The words were also a bit more earnest, though there was still the odd reference to the soul being froelich, you got the idea in a very restrained manner. My best guess would be that it was from a Calvanist tradition rather than Lutheran.
There were quite a number of young people there- mainly in the gallery. You hope properly socially distanced. There was no waving hands in the air so it was a very pleasant experience.
Back in the apartment I could start throwing things away. In the process of this I came across a hidden and half forgotten 20 euro note. For just this occasion when I might need cash to get home.
I found the unused post cards, wrote one of them and then couldn’t find the stamps. They were on the floor.
Sunday afternoon was almost planned. Phil had seen some 90 minute boat trips advertised which took you round the waterways of Strasburg with a running commentary through earphones in a language of your choice. The narrative covered the whole history of Strasburg. Judy had a very simple view of history. There was her life and history. Undifferentiated history with Victorians and Romans and Henry VIII and Anglo-Saxons and Vikings and Stone Age man all rolled into one. But I had known better. Once. No more. We had Merovingians and 8th century architecture and Gothic and Franco-Prussian wars all muddled up in my head. I shall bear this in mind when showing people round the Priory
Attention fatigue set in before the 90 minutes were up, but it was good to have had a go.
There was an email on the phone about what you had to do before entering the UK. I tried
I really tried.
You have to book a Covid test to be taken within 2 days of getting back. They gave you a choice of 250 test providers. It looked very much as though you should have organised this days ago
In the end I decided that someone will sort it all out before it’s too late and that “but I am an old man” will solve everything.
I got cross.
Monday 18th October
Good job I had set the alarm. I slept soundly and was still asleep at 06:00. So creeping around the highly organised apartment I dressed, threw more things away, gathered stuff in a bag and left without waking Phil. There was still an hour before the train left. The man on reception rang for a taxi and I was ready to go. You can drag the bag, so the only problem would be getting it onto the train. “Pouvez vous me aider?” and a fine young man, probably a rugby player, lifted it onto the train, up the stairs onto the first deck and on to the luggage area. He must have been a Scout.
No problem crossing Paris. The bag will drag perfectly well and the taxi driver was an athletic young man.
And this was where the problems kicked in. It was not just me who was bewildered by the UK Government website spelling out what to do to be allowed back in
There was a complete hall of frustrated people utterly unable to complete the Passenger Locator Form which declared where you had been in the last fortnight.
A very helpful young French woman explained that you just enter “no” to all the questions.
The one question that really floored me was “What day are you travelling?”
Here’s a useful tip for any of you who are posed the same trick question. October is the 10th month of the year, not the 9th as is believed by some. What was annoying was that Phil had reminded me of that last week.
There is, of course, a silver lining in every cloud. The cry “Bloody Boris” went up to universal acclaim.
So 4 hours later I was sailing along with a ticket for a train 2 hours later than planned, and feeling much better.
Not home yet, but it’s more of a possibility now.
On the train an athletic young man took my bag, carried it to the luggage area and stowed it away. “Are you a rugby player?”
“Non” with a funny look.
The route out of the station was designed to confuse and met its objective well. Eventually there it was. King’s Cross railway station. Gateway to Bridlington. The system seems to be that they have you hanging around watching which trains go from which platform, and you then rush to yours when it tells you.
But then nothing but joy and delight. The man collecting litter was real and came from Doncaster and talked about engineering. He helped me off the train at Doncaster. Another man helped me on the Scarborough train and everyone was friendly.
Safe home, Safe home in port,
Rent cordage, shattered deck,
Torn sail, provision short,
And only not a wreck.
But oh! the joy upon the shore
To tell our voyage—perils o’er!
jbrip 