Douvres-la-Delivrande to Bolbec

Saturday October 16, 2010
What an interesting day. Well, some parts anyway, other parts were rather mundane, but I'll write more about the interesting parts.
'Twas an early start (before 9 am), I walked down the stairs and found Erich in the kitchen/dining room/living room. First thing he asked me was if I slept well, I told him I slept very well, which I did. The pillow was so old that it had gone a bit hard, with an indentation in the centre where Erich's head must have rested for many hundreds of nights. I wonder if he brought it over from Germany with him. It reminded me of Grans bed, which is so old it has sunk right down in the middle, from many hundreds of nights sleeping in it.
Erich treated me just like a Grandpa would. He had a pot of tea ready to go, as well as a packet of four croissants. And instead of dividing the croissants two each, he gave me three and himself one, despite my protests.

Erich preparing tea and croissants for breakfast.

And when we'd eaten those, he ducked back across the road where the supermarket was and bought another two - one each.
Erich had a friend back in Cologne, Eastern Germany, called Klaus Suessenbach, who he used to teach with and Erich reckoned he would be happy to have me stay if I was passing through Cologne later on. He called to check, but he wasn't home.
Erich has four cats living with him there I think. He said they found him, they came to him and he gave them a home.

Erich's cats sleeping on his desk.

Erich's cats sleeping on his desk.

We then went to the supermarket so I could buy supplies for the day, and Erich told the shop-keeper all about me. He also took me into the hairdresser's and told the women about me, followed by the bakery and then a house out the back where Erich helps teach a girl learning German at school (I think he'd actually postponed a session with her because I was with him). It felt like he was showing me off to all his friends, and he did seem to know everyone too, at least all the neighbours. He even called up the town mayor and told him about me in German.
I suppose it gives the town something to talk about though, when most days in small country towns like this one are all the same. That's what my mate Timmy Hunt used to say when he would get drunk and hook up with various girls from college - "ah well, gives the town something to talk about" he would say.
Erich gave me his address and phone number, and also his friend Klaus Suessenbach's. Erich's wife Sylvie had called another friend of theirs that lives in Belgium, and had asked if I could stay with them when I got there, which was okay if I gave them a days' notice.

Erich's wife, Sylvie.

So Sylvie gave me their address and phone number as well. While she was writing all this down for me, a French bloke was talking to me in the street. I asked him if he spoke English - he didn't. He kept talking in French though. I could give him nothing back though, since I had no idea what he was saying. I just kept saying "je ne comprends pas" - "I don't understand". The look on my face must have been one of utter non-comprehension, and I just kept shrugging my shoulders, yet he kept talking at me in French, relentlessly, until Erich returned and saved me from the barrage.
Wow, what kind-hearted people Erich and Sylvie were, going out of their way to help a complete stranger as much as they did. I mean Erich even gave up his own bed for me and slept on the floor! I was very appreciative and grateful, and told them this in English (I wish I'd known French though, and I could have thanked them properly). Erich said the hospitality was his pleasure. It was better than staying in a 5 star hotel because what really counts is the thought. As Erich said, hospitality has to come from the heart.
It seems so lucky that it all happened this way. If I'd stopped to eat tea in a different town, which I almost did, I would never have met Erich and Sylvie. If I had arrived in the town at a different time, if I'd gone to the other pizza shop instead, or the restaurant, or if I'd decided not to buy tea, then my experience there would have been completely different. I would have instead been setting the tent up at 10:30 pm, getting rained on over-night, and not interacting with the French community there at all.
I eventually headed off late in the morning.

The street that Erich lives on, Rue du Général de Gaulle in Douvres-la-Délivrande

Heading off from Douvres-la-Délivrande, just past La Couture on the Rue du Bac du Port

Heading off from Douvres-la-Délivrande, just past La Couture on the Rue du Bac du Port 

I stopped about half an hour later for my standard breakfast. Croissants, while being delicious, are not very filling.

Stopped for a second breakfast in Bénouville, Calvados, in the Basse-Normandie region in northwestern France. Note the Pegasus Bridge in the background crossing Caen canal, which was important in World War II in the invasion of Normandy.

A curious duck on the bank of the Caen canal, Bénouville.

I ate 2 L of milk worth of cereal and kept going; I'd decided to take the coastal route, which Sylvie had said was quite scenic.

On a track near Merville-Franceville-Plage, north-western France.

People windsurfing on the coast near Merville-Franceville-Plage, north-western France.

People windsurfing on the coast near Merville-Franceville-Plage, north-western France .

A hedge sculptured in the shape of a dinosaur in the middle of a roundabout in Villers-sur-Mer, northwestern France.

Climbing out of the commune of Trouville-sur-Mer, northwestern France.

The Pont de Normandie, a cable-stayed bridge that spans the river Seine, linking Le Havre to Honfleur in Normandy, northern France. It's total length is 2143 metres - 856 metres between the two piers.

The wind was less kind to me today, mostly a head wind, and the weather was showery. Also the terrain was hillier and my legs less fresh, so progress was much slower than yesterday.
At one point I crossed a massive bridge, and I wasn't sure if I was allowed to ride on the road I was on the other side or not.

A bundle of cables on the Tancarville Bridge, a suspension bridge that crosses the Seine River and connects Tancarville and Marais-Vernier.

The massive pylons of the Tancarville Bridge, which are 123 metres high.

The Tancarville Bridge, with a total length of 1420 metres and a centre span length of 608 m.

The signs seemed to indicate it was a motorway, Google Maps didn't. I rode on it anyway, and no cars beeped at me so I dunno.

The sun shining on the tops of the clouds as I rode through La Cerlangue, northern France.

I got to the outskirts of a town called Bolbec when it was just about dark, which is where I'd decided I was going to camp for the night. Right at that moment though, I realised the back tyre was going flat. That was puncture number seven for the trip. So I had to unload the panniers and fix it, which took a good 45 minutes.
Then I had a look at the map, just minding my own business, and this short middle aged bloke came up to me and started talking in French. I asked him "est-ce que vous parlez anglais?" (do you speak English?)
"non", he replied. It seemed he couldn't speak a word of English, so our conversation proved very difficult with my very limited couple of pages of French phrases. Lots of hand movements and pointing was involved.
I gathered that he was lost or wanted directions, so I showed him the map on my iPhone, and he found the spot he wanted to go: "intermache". I traced on the map to show him how to get there, and pointed in the direction he had to go, but he still wasn't satisfied.
I gathered he wanted me to write it down but he didn't have a pen and paper.
There was a young woman walking past with her dog, the man stopped her and asked for help, presumably. Fortunately she spoke very good English, and told me the man wanted me to show him how to get there. He wanted something to eat, and there was a McDonalds at the "Intermache". The woman also asked where I was from and where I was going.
Anyway, I was happy to just go with the flow, so I led the man towards the intermache by riding ahead of him. In the main street though, we passed a pizzeria, so we stopped there instead.
I think he wanted to eat with me, because he asked in French and through pointing whether I preferred the kebab shop or the pizzeria. I said pizza.
However they had no tables to eat in so we headed toward the kebab shop. I didn't actually need to eat there because I had some cous cous I wanted to cook up, but the guy kept signalling me to come in. I told him to go in on his own but he didn't understand or didn't seem to want to.
We tried to talk with a few guys hanging out the front. They knew fragments of English.
Then a bunch of teenagers, four guys and four girls I think, which I guess would have been in late high school, came out of the kebab shop. The guy who wanted food asked them if any of them spoke English. Again they knew fragments of English, but were far from fluent. We 'chatted' a while and they joked around a bit.
I told them I was looking for somewhere to camp. They wanted me to follow them while they drove slowly in the car, and they'd show me where the gardens were. I decided I'd just go with the flow again, and agreed.
Meanwhile, the bloke that was hungry said "au revoir", hopped in his car and drove off without buying any food. Strange.
The youths hopped into two cars and I followed one of them while the other one followed me, and they led me to the gardens. Then one of the girls led me down a path to show me where I could camp, then she seduced me... no, just kidding. The other girls came along and we decided it wasn't such a great spot to camp because I would have to get up early in the morning, we're talking before 7 am, or I would be discovered and kicked out.
Then they wanted to drive me out to another spot they knew, a few kilometres out of town, and they wanted to put my bike in the boot of their little car. I knew we couldn't possibly fit the bike in, but they seemed confident they could. Once we got the bike close to the boot, so that a direct comparison of sizes was possible, they realised it wouldn't fit. After some further conversation, we went our separate ways.
I rode back to the spot where I'd fixed the puncture because I'd spotted a few possible camping spots in the vicinity. And I found one which was very well hidden, a good spot. It was just a small clearing about 40 metres from the road, surrounded by trees, which looked like it was a house site, but there was no sign of any house. So I earmarked the spot, then went back to the street where there was light to cook up some cous cous for tea. I used a bottle of what I thought was your standard pasta sauce, and it actually had minced meat in it! Isn't that crazy? That just doesn't seem right to me. I wasn't complaining though, it tasted alright.
I wrote a few blog posts because I'd found a good internet connection there, so it ended up being quite a late night. By the time I'd unpacked, set up the tent and gotten to bed, it was after 4 am.

My route for the day, Douvres-la-Délivrande to Bolbec, northern France.

An overview of my route through France so far, from Cherbourg.

Ride stats:
Distance: 114.7 km
Average: 19.0 km/h
Maximum: 52.2 km/h
Time: 6:00:27
Total ascent: 729 m
Total descent: 723 m