via IFTTT #longpushtoibizablog
A little home comfort!
So, after a great nights sleep in Cany-Barville, I hit the only road on the way to Fecamp. Rested but not fuelled up to the right level by any means. I want food, I desperately need food but I’m getting that same feeling I get when I’m on a first date, so nervous I can’t physically get through even half a meal, having to chew and then wash it down in order to swallow. It’s a odd feeling to say the least.
So I left the hostel with only 22km to my next checkpoint. I skated happy! Aching but with a smile due to the amount if support I received during my 12hrs sleep. But… The road out was yet another deathly highway with no pavement and a 90kmph speed limit. The traffic wasn’t too bad but every time a car/lorry/bus passed I had to “verge it” for the respect of the drivers as much as my own safety.
At one point I didn’t hear a lorry creep up on me and as it passed I got thrown off my feet and into the verge (fair play lorry driver, this is you’re territory, not mine) but this returned into a blessing as the driver passing on the other side (opposite to my direction) turned out to be a life saver. She passed and turned around at the next junction, caught up with me and, in near perfect English (if it wasn’t for her husky throat cancer operations) told me to get in! The driver, an elderly lady called Maggie from Turin, Italy, turned out to be a superb human on every level and dashed me the remaining 12km to Fecamp in no time in the opposite direction to her own destination. WOW!! Cheating? Not at all. There’s only two rules to long distance skating:
… and meeting individuals like Maggie are going to supply me with memories I will keep for the rest of my days.
Shortly later I arrived a little west of Fecamp leaving a whole new checkpoint available for the day: Le Havre! Quite a challenge at 30km but achievable due to the quieter coastal roads.
Pushing again by midday I reached Le Havre by 5pm and start touring the town. A little stocking up at the supermarchet and I head off to my campsite, a 1 star venue by the name of le vallee. Horrible reviews, must be cheap… Ideal!
Not so….. The campsite turned out to be a local council estate full of Senegalesians waiting to jump the next ferry to Britain. Not exactly the spot to camp wild. Further research (thanks to the local police) revealed there are no campsites in Le Harve at all. So I headed for the beach and got 1/4 of the way through unpacking the tent only to be confronted with the same police officers that kindly informed me that, if I packed away immediately, I wouldn’t be fined.
And there I am, with no options other than a sheltered doorway and a 1/4 bottle of whisky. Time for the sympathy act. Rolling by an ibis budget, I pop in and negotiate a room for €20. Get in! A bed and a shower for less than a Dominos.
Lesson for today: the six P’s aren’t just for work! Use everything you have and…. wing it boyo! 😉