- Location
- The TerrorVortex
I've just got back from a weekend cycling in Northern France. It's easily accessible from the South-East of England, particularly with the new high-speed service from St Pancras.
I bailed out of work on Friday lunchtime, and got a train into Kings Cross. It's an easy couple of minutes walk across to St Pancras, and there's a lift up to the platforms. The fast trains share platforms with Eurostar, with security fencing between them. The trains themselves look like this.
I assume the left-hand one had been running coupled. They're built by Hitachi in Japan, and are part of the Bullet Train or Shinkasen family. The seats are very comfortable, and there's an adequate bike storage area like this.
The train left spot on time, and we're off!! They seem to out-accelerate Eurostars, but have a top speed of a mere 140 mph on the HS1 line down to the coast.
68 minutes later, and we're in Dover. The route to the port is well signposted - just as well, as I can see no other reason to go to Dover!! Takes about ten minutes to ride.
I'd booked the Club Class lounge on P&O. This gets you comfy sofas away from the hordes of coach parties and schoolchildren, and assorted drinks and snacks. Everything on the table was complimentary (apart from the map, obviously).
Sadly, the glory days of getting unlimited champagne are gone. I think I may have played a part in that, on a notorious (in our house, anyway) trip where I and a Kiwi got through about a bottle. Each.
Even so, a glass of fizz and as much tea, coffee, soft drinks, biscuits and little Toblerones as you can manage isn't bad for £12.
The bike storage, however, left a little to be desired...
I bungeed mine onto a supporting bracket for something-or-other.
After we'd docked, I headed downstairs to untie my bike and head off, because bikes get off ferries first.
Them's the rules, right?
Wrong. Bikes now go off P&O last, for 'elf an' safety' reasons. Brilliant.
A short choking later, and the wheels are finally on French soil, albeit Fench soil covered in concrete. Out of the port, and into Calais itself. Obviously the plan was to get out of Calais again ASAP.
I was searching for a route I'd taken 25 years ago. I didn't find it.
Eventually I escaped, and headed off towards Ardres. My destination was a farm B&B. Perfectly nice room, with a small kitchenette had I needed it, and bike storage.
Into the village for dinner, then back for an early night.
The next day was a bit grey first thing, so I didn't bother with sun-cream. This later turned out to be a mistake...
After breakfast I headed off. Ardres to Guemps to St Folquin, across the Aa river into a new department and into Bourbourg. I stopped for a coffee, sat in the sun, and wondered why everywhere seemed shut. I then saw the clock - 0920. I've done 13 miles already. Coffee drunk and I'm off again. You see, I had a destination. A mission. A plan.
Betty Swallocks of this parish created a thread offering a delightful saddle cover as a prize. Thanks to the machinations of Speicher, I ended up with the wretched thing. Here it is on my bike.
Having taken the photo I headed onwards. I did consider going to Socx - France has a lot of endearingly daft place names - but decided to go to Cassel for lunch.
176m of altitude isn't so very high, granted, but I'd started at sea level and gone up a 14% hill to get there. My salad and cheese+ ham gallete slipped down nicely, as did the cider
It was then time to slip down myself. For 7k I barely needed to pedal. On the approach to Watten I passed this sign.
and then another windmill
That was about the fifth. You stop counting after a while.
From Watten I followed the Aa downstream to the next bridge. In that rather good French way, there was a bar there, so a little rehydration was in order. It was really getting warm now.
Back through Audruicq, and back to the B&B. Showered, out to dinner and then an early night. For I had 70 miles in my legs, and a big day tomorrow too.
In the planning stages for this trip, I'd noticed a little local ride happening on the Sunday. That's nice, I thought. Could give it a go. It's only E3, after all.
I duly rocked up the following day. There was a big 'Depart' arch spanning the road. I signed in and got given a goody bag - energy drink, a powerbar thing and some of that God-awful energy gel with a highly worrying texture. In the pannier it all went, and I set off into a dull, grey and rather cold, breezy morning.
Well. The route was waymarked with little orange triangles. What I hadn't realised, is that they are supplemented by painted markers on the road when the routes split...
By dint of navigational incompetence, therefore, I cheated at my 60km ride and did a mere 45 miles. I did however find the feedstop, and had a motorbike 'sweeper' check I was OK. Which I wasn't, at the time, as I was grovelling up a big hill into the wind. I was cold, damp, hungry and knackered. I was incredibly glad to get back. I was even more glad when I was handed a new bidon, a sausage baguette and a beer
Let's recap. Three energy products before you set off, a feedstop, waymarked route with sweepers, and food and drink at the end. For three Euro. I'm doing it next year
Going back to Calais, I found the right canal, and followed it in. This was the quiet route I'd looked for, although it wasn't as quiet as I remembered it. Back to the port, and back on the ferry, hoovering up prodigious amounts of tea. I just couldn't get warm
Waiting to get off the boat, I got yacking to a guy from the Herts Wheelers, who needed to find the train station. A peleton of two was duly formed, and I discovered a burst of energy, courtesy of biscuits, chocolate and the knowledge that I had 14 minutes before my train went. I got it by the skin of my teeth...
Totting up the mileage on the way back, I'd done 145 miles over the weekend. And an awful lot of climbing, considering I'd deliberately gone somewhere flat.
Flanders. It's hillier than you think.
I bailed out of work on Friday lunchtime, and got a train into Kings Cross. It's an easy couple of minutes walk across to St Pancras, and there's a lift up to the platforms. The fast trains share platforms with Eurostar, with security fencing between them. The trains themselves look like this.
I assume the left-hand one had been running coupled. They're built by Hitachi in Japan, and are part of the Bullet Train or Shinkasen family. The seats are very comfortable, and there's an adequate bike storage area like this.
The train left spot on time, and we're off!! They seem to out-accelerate Eurostars, but have a top speed of a mere 140 mph on the HS1 line down to the coast.
68 minutes later, and we're in Dover. The route to the port is well signposted - just as well, as I can see no other reason to go to Dover!! Takes about ten minutes to ride.
I'd booked the Club Class lounge on P&O. This gets you comfy sofas away from the hordes of coach parties and schoolchildren, and assorted drinks and snacks. Everything on the table was complimentary (apart from the map, obviously).
Sadly, the glory days of getting unlimited champagne are gone. I think I may have played a part in that, on a notorious (in our house, anyway) trip where I and a Kiwi got through about a bottle. Each.
Even so, a glass of fizz and as much tea, coffee, soft drinks, biscuits and little Toblerones as you can manage isn't bad for £12.
The bike storage, however, left a little to be desired...
I bungeed mine onto a supporting bracket for something-or-other.
After we'd docked, I headed downstairs to untie my bike and head off, because bikes get off ferries first.
Them's the rules, right?
Wrong. Bikes now go off P&O last, for 'elf an' safety' reasons. Brilliant.
A short choking later, and the wheels are finally on French soil, albeit Fench soil covered in concrete. Out of the port, and into Calais itself. Obviously the plan was to get out of Calais again ASAP.
I was searching for a route I'd taken 25 years ago. I didn't find it.
Eventually I escaped, and headed off towards Ardres. My destination was a farm B&B. Perfectly nice room, with a small kitchenette had I needed it, and bike storage.
Into the village for dinner, then back for an early night.
The next day was a bit grey first thing, so I didn't bother with sun-cream. This later turned out to be a mistake...
After breakfast I headed off. Ardres to Guemps to St Folquin, across the Aa river into a new department and into Bourbourg. I stopped for a coffee, sat in the sun, and wondered why everywhere seemed shut. I then saw the clock - 0920. I've done 13 miles already. Coffee drunk and I'm off again. You see, I had a destination. A mission. A plan.
Betty Swallocks of this parish created a thread offering a delightful saddle cover as a prize. Thanks to the machinations of Speicher, I ended up with the wretched thing. Here it is on my bike.
Having taken the photo I headed onwards. I did consider going to Socx - France has a lot of endearingly daft place names - but decided to go to Cassel for lunch.
176m of altitude isn't so very high, granted, but I'd started at sea level and gone up a 14% hill to get there. My salad and cheese+ ham gallete slipped down nicely, as did the cider
It was then time to slip down myself. For 7k I barely needed to pedal. On the approach to Watten I passed this sign.
and then another windmill
That was about the fifth. You stop counting after a while.
From Watten I followed the Aa downstream to the next bridge. In that rather good French way, there was a bar there, so a little rehydration was in order. It was really getting warm now.
Back through Audruicq, and back to the B&B. Showered, out to dinner and then an early night. For I had 70 miles in my legs, and a big day tomorrow too.
In the planning stages for this trip, I'd noticed a little local ride happening on the Sunday. That's nice, I thought. Could give it a go. It's only E3, after all.
I duly rocked up the following day. There was a big 'Depart' arch spanning the road. I signed in and got given a goody bag - energy drink, a powerbar thing and some of that God-awful energy gel with a highly worrying texture. In the pannier it all went, and I set off into a dull, grey and rather cold, breezy morning.
Well. The route was waymarked with little orange triangles. What I hadn't realised, is that they are supplemented by painted markers on the road when the routes split...
By dint of navigational incompetence, therefore, I cheated at my 60km ride and did a mere 45 miles. I did however find the feedstop, and had a motorbike 'sweeper' check I was OK. Which I wasn't, at the time, as I was grovelling up a big hill into the wind. I was cold, damp, hungry and knackered. I was incredibly glad to get back. I was even more glad when I was handed a new bidon, a sausage baguette and a beer
Let's recap. Three energy products before you set off, a feedstop, waymarked route with sweepers, and food and drink at the end. For three Euro. I'm doing it next year
Going back to Calais, I found the right canal, and followed it in. This was the quiet route I'd looked for, although it wasn't as quiet as I remembered it. Back to the port, and back on the ferry, hoovering up prodigious amounts of tea. I just couldn't get warm
Waiting to get off the boat, I got yacking to a guy from the Herts Wheelers, who needed to find the train station. A peleton of two was duly formed, and I discovered a burst of energy, courtesy of biscuits, chocolate and the knowledge that I had 14 minutes before my train went. I got it by the skin of my teeth...
Totting up the mileage on the way back, I'd done 145 miles over the weekend. And an awful lot of climbing, considering I'd deliberately gone somewhere flat.
Flanders. It's hillier than you think.
