Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday it’s off to the Continental Docks to see about the price of a Ferry to get myself to France. Following the map takes me down main roads, which are now ridden as a local. Other riders are still passing me by, but hey I’m on vacation. Following the map does not get me there, so time is spent talking to a fellow cyclist, and getting directions. He tells me he just gave directions to another bloke, who is heading to the continent on his bike for two months.
Upon arriving at the ports the security office tells me where to put the bike while inside the terminal. There are at least twenty lanes for car, trucks etc. to line up on. Only ten seem to be in used today. Inside the terminal there is only one counter open. “You need to go to the LD counter, which will open at 3pm,” the clerk tells me it is Noon. At the counter I find a flyer stating there is only one trip a day to La Havre, which leaves at 3pm, arriving at 8pm. “It will be night when I get there, how will I find the campground?” I think. Then remind myself that I still have three hours of light left when I arrive.
Heading back to the campground I allow myself to become a tourist. Yep! Now in previous trips here being a tourist was the last thing on the agenda. Since buying the book to read has put to rest one silly thought process it was time to put another one down. I stop at the birthplace of Charles Dickens, cruse High St concourse, then go to the old dock. Kind of like Mystic Sea Port, but much older. They were building ships here before Mystic Connecticut was a gleam in anyone’s eye.
Here is the first Iron Clad the British build, which was the fastest, and most heavily armed in the world at the time. Then comes to Admiral Lord Nelson’s HMS Victory. This is the ship he won the battle of Trafalgar with, which also got him killed. The tour shows you exactly where he died of wounds from a wood splinters that were created by a French cannon ball, but the French fleet was defeated. They have this huge room where the sail used in the battle, or what is left of it is displayed. Unlike the US Constitution, HMS Victory is in a dry dock, so the much of this ship would be under water it is amazing.
On my way back to the campground a huge crowd of people all in Blue and White blocks my way. Blue and white flags are being waived, people are standing on mailboxes, lampposts, ladders, and pointing at something down the street. There must be 2000, to 3000 if not more people here. They are shouting, blowing horns, screaming slogans and singing a thyme song. When I arrived on Saturday Portsmouth Football (Soccer to you) has just won some big game. Evidently, they were now home and I had stumbled into a parade for them. I keep walking through the crown and am amazed at the backing this team has.
Cars play some tune on their horns, which sets off screams, thumbs up, and any number of displays. Walking, there is no way I can ride in this, from behind me band drums begin to play, I turn heading toward the sound. I watch as the people begin to part like the Red Sea before Moses. To my amazement motorcycle police, then police cars, then the band, and then double Decker buses, all no more then three feet from me, bearing the team go by. I am caught up in the cheering which has become contagious. There they are holding out the silver cup, you can see the pride in their faces.
I have never been so caught up in the moment, nor witnessed an event like this before. As the busses pass people begin to run after them. They are shouting, yelling, screaming, laughing, bounding up and down, skipping, you name it they are doing it to show how happy they are. I am tempted to run with them, just be swept along. However, the bike is now doing well in the throng of people I now find myself in. People are running into it, there is not pushing or shoving, most apologize for hitting it. It is a defining moment for this trip. I am glad to be here, glad to have been part of this, maybe even on the news again as the TV cameras in the first bus was pointed right at me as it passed.
Further along there is a large screen TV set up, the team is on stage being introduced one by one. The crowd is going absolutely nuts, yet there is not looting, no cars being set on fire, no killings that I’ve heard of. These people are proud of their team and are showing it with out violence. Just a great big party, all are happy, many are intoxicated; police keep a low profile the whole thing is just wonderful to watch. I have some Fish and Chips to celebrate attempting to say out of wind as I eat.
It is cold today, to me any way, but not to those who live there. I remember this weather from Long Island, when I thought this was warm. Living in Arizona has certainly changed my internal temperature gage. Since the operation I have been less able to find anything under 70 warm, when it was once hot for me. It is about 50 in the mornings here, not getting above 65 during the day. It is time for warmer climes.
Today I attempted to send home some stuff I have not used since I got here. Bought a nice little box to hold it, packed it up, taped up the box, look how nice that looks. Bring it to the Post Office, stand on line, hand it to the nice lady behind the counter. She looks at me and says “Oh my. This is very expensive. The cheapest way will cost you 38 pounds.” I smile. That’s $76, remembering it cost me an extra $80 to get this stuff I just had to have here. “If you make two packages out of it, it will cost less, 11 pound a package.” I’m still smiling. Let see $44 to send home about $15 dollars worth of stuff.
Tomorrow I am packing up, heading to the dock to wait until 3 pm so I can get to France. I think I have procrastinated enough.
Sunday it’s off to the Continental Docks to see about the price of a Ferry to get myself to France. Following the map takes me down main roads, which are now ridden as a local. Other riders are still passing me by, but hey I’m on vacation. Following the map does not get me there, so time is spent talking to a fellow cyclist, and getting directions. He tells me he just gave directions to another bloke, who is heading to the continent on his bike for two months.
Upon arriving at the ports the security office tells me where to put the bike while inside the terminal. There are at least twenty lanes for car, trucks etc. to line up on. Only ten seem to be in used today. Inside the terminal there is only one counter open. “You need to go to the LD counter, which will open at 3pm,” the clerk tells me it is Noon. At the counter I find a flyer stating there is only one trip a day to La Havre, which leaves at 3pm, arriving at 8pm. “It will be night when I get there, how will I find the campground?” I think. Then remind myself that I still have three hours of light left when I arrive.
Heading back to the campground I allow myself to become a tourist. Yep! Now in previous trips here being a tourist was the last thing on the agenda. Since buying the book to read has put to rest one silly thought process it was time to put another one down. I stop at the birthplace of Charles Dickens, cruse High St concourse, then go to the old dock. Kind of like Mystic Sea Port, but much older. They were building ships here before Mystic Connecticut was a gleam in anyone’s eye.
Here is the first Iron Clad the British build, which was the fastest, and most heavily armed in the world at the time. Then comes to Admiral Lord Nelson’s HMS Victory. This is the ship he won the battle of Trafalgar with, which also got him killed. The tour shows you exactly where he died of wounds from a wood splinters that were created by a French cannon ball, but the French fleet was defeated. They have this huge room where the sail used in the battle, or what is left of it is displayed. Unlike the US Constitution, HMS Victory is in a dry dock, so the much of this ship would be under water it is amazing.
On my way back to the campground a huge crowd of people all in Blue and White blocks my way. Blue and white flags are being waived, people are standing on mailboxes, lampposts, ladders, and pointing at something down the street. There must be 2000, to 3000 if not more people here. They are shouting, blowing horns, screaming slogans and singing a thyme song. When I arrived on Saturday Portsmouth Football (Soccer to you) has just won some big game. Evidently, they were now home and I had stumbled into a parade for them. I keep walking through the crown and am amazed at the backing this team has.
Cars play some tune on their horns, which sets off screams, thumbs up, and any number of displays. Walking, there is no way I can ride in this, from behind me band drums begin to play, I turn heading toward the sound. I watch as the people begin to part like the Red Sea before Moses. To my amazement motorcycle police, then police cars, then the band, and then double Decker buses, all no more then three feet from me, bearing the team go by. I am caught up in the cheering which has become contagious. There they are holding out the silver cup, you can see the pride in their faces.
I have never been so caught up in the moment, nor witnessed an event like this before. As the busses pass people begin to run after them. They are shouting, yelling, screaming, laughing, bounding up and down, skipping, you name it they are doing it to show how happy they are. I am tempted to run with them, just be swept along. However, the bike is now doing well in the throng of people I now find myself in. People are running into it, there is not pushing or shoving, most apologize for hitting it. It is a defining moment for this trip. I am glad to be here, glad to have been part of this, maybe even on the news again as the TV cameras in the first bus was pointed right at me as it passed.
Further along there is a large screen TV set up, the team is on stage being introduced one by one. The crowd is going absolutely nuts, yet there is not looting, no cars being set on fire, no killings that I’ve heard of. These people are proud of their team and are showing it with out violence. Just a great big party, all are happy, many are intoxicated; police keep a low profile the whole thing is just wonderful to watch. I have some Fish and Chips to celebrate attempting to say out of wind as I eat.
It is cold today, to me any way, but not to those who live there. I remember this weather from Long Island, when I thought this was warm. Living in Arizona has certainly changed my internal temperature gage. Since the operation I have been less able to find anything under 70 warm, when it was once hot for me. It is about 50 in the mornings here, not getting above 65 during the day. It is time for warmer climes.
Today I attempted to send home some stuff I have not used since I got here. Bought a nice little box to hold it, packed it up, taped up the box, look how nice that looks. Bring it to the Post Office, stand on line, hand it to the nice lady behind the counter. She looks at me and says “Oh my. This is very expensive. The cheapest way will cost you 38 pounds.” I smile. That’s $76, remembering it cost me an extra $80 to get this stuff I just had to have here. “If you make two packages out of it, it will cost less, 11 pound a package.” I’m still smiling. Let see $44 to send home about $15 dollars worth of stuff.
Tomorrow I am packing up, heading to the dock to wait until 3 pm so I can get to France. I think I have procrastinated enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment