velovoice: The Fridays' Tour de Normandie 2015 -- Day 2: Bayeux to Honfleur

Monday, 1 June 2015

The Fridays' Tour de Normandie 2015 -- Day 2: Bayeux to Honfleur

Posts about other days of this tour:

I am up to my neck in revision ('exam prep', for the Americans) but want to get these French ride reports written while I still remember the stories!

Sunday (day 2) consisted of 65km of just about the best cycling ever, followed by 35km of what Martin summed up as "the worst afternoon I have ever spent on a bike". (I agreed. Others may have said similar beyond my earshot.) Fortunately, I have ample photographic evidence of the first and very little of the second.

Up early, I started my day with the most comprehensive self-massage of my calves and lower hamstrings as it's possible for a non-qualified person to do! My knee joints felt 'tight' and the outside of my lower right leg also felt stiff and a bit painful. A massage helped tremendously but the relief was short lived. (I've since learned more about key trigger points in muscles I'd never heard of -- unfortunately, they are nearly impossible to "get at" in one's own legs.)

Claudine and Sonia were also staying at Le Castel and we shared breakfast together. Our French hostess (Elin?) was so friendly, one of those bubbly positive people, keen to practice her English, so impressed we were cycling from Cherbourg to Dieppe in just three days! She prefers running but occasionally cycles on shared use paths -- apparently just enough to be butt-sore, not enough to toughen up. ;)

(I'm generally against emoticons on blogs so please forgive me for that one.)

Breakfast offered a wide array of croissants, French toast, proper homemade bread -- with jams and honey and yoghurt. In other words, all carbohydrate. No meats, no cheeses. Or so we thought until Adam spotted a pot of a slightly curded soft cheese that turned out to be quite similar to American cottage cheese, though it's not called that in France -- nice! (English "cottage cheese" is vile.)

So I had two cups of good coffee and a scoop of cottage cheese. Not ideal but good enough.

We were already packed up, so after breakfast we checked out and loaded up.

Everybody ready? Er, not quite. Claud texted Simon saying we may be a bit late as "Adam is fettling Rebecca's saddle". True, except it was Adam's saddle not mine that needed adjustment - but of course it was funnier (i.e. ruder!) to say it was mine. (Ah, this may be one of those "what happens on tour stays on tour" moments I shouldn't share?)

We arrived at the meeting point at seconds past 9am and, having barely put one foot down, we were off. Exiting Bayeux took mere minutes and then once again we were in the countryside.

It was a cool but dry morning with light breezes -- very pleasant cycling weather.

We passed through Courseulles-sur-Mer. Helen was cycling beside me as we entered town and she was effusive with memories of school trips here, as her school was "twinned" with one here. She hadn't been back as an adult. It was lovely to whiz through a bit of the town and around the harbour beside someone whose smile was so big, it's amazing it didn't topple her bike over.

And then more countryside under lazy, hazy skies.

Steve R. (c) Adam Bell 2015

Fortuitously aligned hedges cued an impromptu pit stop.
Gentlemen to the left, ladies to the right.
Photographed from a distance to preserve modesty!

Me and Kat. (c) Adam Bell 2015

We re-grouped again in Lion-sur-Mer. We entered the town via back roads and farm tracks, then had to turn east onto the D514.

I enjoyed bombing down the D514. I tucked in behind Steve R., not quite close enough to 'draft' but close enough to work as a team through traffic lights and overtaking slower cyclists (who weren't with our group). Steve's one of those experienced riders with very good 'street smarts' -- his road positioning and signalling are consistent and inspire confidence.

On the Place du Général de Gaulle in Ouistreham (where the so-called Caen ferry comes in from Portsmouth) is a row of bars and brasseries ideal for a group of thirsty cyclists. Simon had referred this in advance as the "elevenses" stop but most of us grabbed a light lunch, or, indeed our "first lunch".

Most in our group slathered on more sunscreen and basked outdoors. (Certain others huddled in the cool indoors brainstorming what form the next incarnation of the Fridays might take.)

From Ouiestreham, we picked up the shared use canal path towards Caen. (If only towpaths in the UK were this wide and smooth, maybe they could actually accommodate and cope with fair-weather crowds.)

At the Pegasus bridge, we gathered round Martin for a brief and amusing talk about its design and the role it played in WWII. (Unfortunately, I could not follow all of it sans hearing-aid but joined in the outbursts of laughter at the appropriate times!)

The truly ironic part of Martin's speech (so I'm told) was his closing comment: "I only wish you could see this bridge when it's open".

Be careful what you wish for.

I was at the back of the group turning from the cycle path onto the road to cross the bridge. The light switched from green and Adam behind me said "if we're quick, we can make it". I thought he meant we could clear the lights before the traffic started moving if we hustled. So I hustled. But once on the road, I stopped hustling.

Little did I know, he meant "make it over the bridge before it closes"!

I was nearly on the edge of the bridge itself where it joins the road when bells started ringing and I could hear Adam shouting "Come back! Come back!" I was still a bit slow on the uptake but stopped, dismounted and walked back to him.... just as the barriers started dropping.

So there we were, separated from the group, trapped on the 'wrong' side on the Pegasus bridge.

Two other cycle tourists, who joined us after the barriers came down.

So everyone -- me, Adam and Titus on the 'back end' and all the other Fridays stopped waiting for us at the 'front end' -- got Martin's wish for us all: to see the bridge open.

The raising of the bridge itself didn't take too long, but it took ages for the river traffic -- whatever it was -- to round the bend upstream and make its way towards us. For some time, there was nothing to see on the river, no guesses as to what vessel may have triggered the lifting of the bridge, so all we could do was wait.

Turns out, this is a busy little junction, for people in all manner of conveyances. So we had time to look around and watch the flow of people, while a queue of cars slowly built up, with 5 cyclists at its head behind the barrier.

Gruesome discovery

The formidable Sergeant Titus. (c) Adam Bell 2015.

Finally, a large boat appeared, leading a flotilla of racing yachts.

Meanwhile, this is how it all went down on the other side:

On the one hand, my lack of understanding of the situation and less than speedy response meant we lost an hour. On the other hand, we witnessed a spectacular piece of engineering in action, which we hadn't expected to be able to do. Does it all even out?

Making our way from our inland point at the Pegasus bridge back out to the coast, we took in a few gentle rollers. At the top of one, a group of children playing on the bank to the left of the road thought it would be fun to throw poppers (a harmless form of fireworks) onto the road. The aim was no doubt simply to startle, although one child did seem rather intent with his/her aim, trying to hit someone if he/she could.

Our scheduled lunch stop was in Houlgate, a delightful seaside town.

As he had done the day before in Carentan, Simon re-grouped us and said "there are bars and restaurants in every direction; please yourselves and meet back here in an hour and a half". We were already an hour behind his schedule. I can only think that, knowing what the afternoon would bring, he was happy to indulge us so we'd be well-fed and watered, relaxed and in a good mood!

Houlgate's main street is lined with these rather attractive steel bicycle stands.

The menu board outside Le Marigot included meat options so we chose that. Inside, it was cool and calm. The decor was nothing particularly remarkable, but there was one unusual feature --

-- the ceiling. The room looked simply enormous, when it was anything but, thanks to the highly reflective sheeting above us.

For the first time on this trip, we had moules frites. Our experience has generally been that restaurants offer mussels in just one 'version': moules marinière (with cream, garlic and parsley), although occasionally there will also be a moules à la Provençale (with tomatoes and white wine). Here, both of those were available plus the local speciality moules à La Normande in a cream sauce with apple and/or calvados, small chunks of camembert, celery and onion, perhaps mushrooms as well.

When in Normandy...

Once all the mussels were eaten, the broth in the bottom was even better -- slurped up like soup.

The architecture in Houlgate is utterly typical for Normandy but it was almost overwhelming to see so many examples all in one place.

At the appointed time, we gathered at "the dome" at the top of the main street. The small "Suzy" sign raised a few smiles.

Simon had warned us the hill out of Houlgate was a "walker". He was so not kidding.

And later on, there was another, equally brutal and possibly longer. For that one, I changed into my trainers ('sneakers' for the Americans) and didn't let myself be fooled into trying to remount and restart before the top. I just kept walking.

We went through Trouville and Deauville, both very picturesque towns I am sure (and so had been led to believe and anticipate from my pre-trip perusals). But they were so choked with cars, I never actually saw them. I was preoccupied with stopping and starting, clipping out and clipping back in (or dithering over whether it was even worth it), struck speechless by some of the most inconsiderate driving I have ever seen (not singling out cyclists but just general bad driving and bad behaviour exhibited towards all road users indiscriminately).

Yes, there were some pretty bits -- below is one. I remember a few others but notably they were in 'traffic light' locations such as mostly pedestrianised town centres, where minding the flocks of pedestrians meant no photos were possible.

The traffic was nearly standstill, queuing into Honfleur. We cycled a mixed-use path for a while as we approached the town but inevitably that came to an end just at the point when everything gets complicated and road design really should step up to the challenge of unravelling the different modes of transport so that conflict is reduced and risk of injury minimised. Not so.

We were reduced to walking around the harbour because -- guess what -- it's all cobblestones. Very picturesque but my concentration was on staying (a) upright and (b) out of traffic. Again, cars swarm over this small town centre like flies over carrion. Shocking what destruction we humans have allowed our fascination with the motor car to wreak on our own quality of life and peace of mind.

This photo is of the street where our accommodation was located -- the women chatting and smoking on their balcony captured my eye and imagination. (We were walking still/again.)

And this is up at the end of that street looking back at the side we walked up on. We arrived at 7pm, an hour behind schedule (thank you, Pegasus bridge) and our hostess had left a small heart-shaped chalkboard hanging from the door, asking us to phone her on her mobile. Unfortunately, our roaming service was not working properly and/or the signal was poor -- we were unable to phone or text. Fortunately, however, she heard us from next door and came around to let us in!

Adam checked out our room while I waited with the bicycles outside -- I knew from TripAdvisor that the staircase was narrow and steep and I intended to go up them only once tonight!

Our room was lovely, though the decor between bedroom and bath seemed a bit Jeckyll and Hyde!

The shower was a Water Disco!

All that remained was to seek out dinner (which we did, around the corner -- I forgot to take my camera) and then to seek sleep. It was a low key evening. I was exhausted and frankly disheartened after the hour-long struggle with traffic at the end of the day, by that point also being physically drained by those two killer hills.

And we were less than sanguine about our hostess's provision of "secure overnight bicycle parking" that we had requested when booking. (Locked together under her staircase in her driveway - viewable from passersby -- albeit on a quiet cul-de-sac around the back of the street entrances. Nonetheless, there was nothing at all to lock the bikes to.) Over dinner, we decided we were not happy with the arrangement and so we "snuck" back into her driveway after dark and retrieved them, and put them inside our entrance hall alongside the stairs! At least there was then a solid locked door between them and the outside world.

Monday, 1 June 2015

The Fridays' Tour de Normandie 2015 -- Day 2: Bayeux to Honfleur

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