words by Williams

Wednesday May 10

My post-snooze ablution routine dictates an early exit next morning for the ferry port, which was only about 15 minutes away. We’d been told check in opened at about 8.30, but we were at least an hour earlier than that. Still, the loos in the terminal were clean and pleasant and it gave us a chance to speak to a few fellow passengers. Not in the loos, obviously, but outside in the queue.

In the event, they open check-in about 10 minutes early, which put us at the very front of Lane 5 in the embarkation channel. Being at the front of Lane 5, we found, was not an advantage.

First they let on the cyclists and motorbikes, then the cars in Lane 1. Lane 2 and Lane 3 were empty, but the motorhomes at the back of Lane 4 were next on, followed by the ones at the front. Ta dah! Then it was our turn. All very straightforward in the end - and no doubt ordered by size, so in terms of waiting to board a ferry, bigger may not be better. Chalk up another first for us and Betsy - we’re on the Transmanche Cote d’Albatre and France is only four hours away.

I'm convinced one of the captain’s first announcements mentions something about the ‘seas being a little high’ during the crossing, but as it happens, it was really smooth. Apart from having to wait 10 minutes for fresh croissants and the card machine connection going down during lunch service, all is well. The food, by the way, is really tasty again. We do salads. Cal goes Greek and I go Caesar. Around 17 euros with drinks, I think.

Disembarkation iss similarly ordered, so we're pretty much one of the last motorhomes off at Dieppe, but passport control is no hassle and, remembering to turn right onto the roundabout leaving the port, we’re off on French roads for the first time.

As said, we’re using Waze and, apart from the slight niggle about customising for Betsy and the fact that it eats your data chuggabubbles like nobody’s business, it’s great. One of the reasons we got rid of the Zenec comms head unit that came with Betsy is that the built-in navigation wouldn’t let you put in postcodes and would often tell you about your turnings just after you’d missed them. Waze works with CarPlay, so it’s easy.

Cal’s an avid fan and likes to confirm warnings about cars on the side of the road, roadkill and that kind of thing for the benefit of other users. Our only real hassle was that we were still on miles instead of kilometres, so our speed limit warnings and stuff initially weren’t that helpful. We’ve changed that now and it’s even more useful.

Have you ever considered bridges as a metaphor for life? I hadn’t until we came across two absolute whoppers on the way down to Falaise.

I guess you have to be of a certain age to remember the TV series of Alan Bleasdale’s GBH, which starred Robert Lindsay and Michael Palin. Amazon describes it thus: “Michael Palin stars in this darkly comic drama about corruption and power. A self-serving politician and principled headteacher cross paths and neither is ever the same again.” Lindsay is the politician and Palin the headteacher.

I mention it only because in the series, Palin’s character has a mortifying fear of bridges. I don’t know whether the series influenced me like that, or whether I was always a bridge/height wuss at heart.

Anyway. On the road down to Falaise, there are two ‘kin huge bridges, one over the Le Havre canal and one over the River Seine.

The one over the Seine is the Pont de Normandie and, to be fair, you get warnings about it 30 or 40 kilometres away. They don’t say “Kin great bridge ahead”, but the locals are obviously quite proud of it.

So, if life is a road, although the signals maybe there, sometimes things will surprise, horrify and challenge you in equal measure.

Which is why, at my first sight of the Grand Viaduc, which goes over the canal, I literally shouted out in horror. Because it’s there. It’s massive. And there’s nothing you can do to avoid it.

I was thinking of Roger Waters’ lyrics to Mother on Pink Floyd’s album The Wall: “Mother did it have to be so high?”

Meanwhile, my forearms have gone into paralysis as I’m death-gripping the steering wheel and Cal, noticing that my face has turned puce and I’m sweating cobs, has suddenly turned from navigator into stress counsellor.

The things that don’t kill you make you stronger, they say.

They don’t often says the things that don’t kill you lead you straight away to something that very well might all over again. Only a couple of kilometres away, and for which terrorisation you have to pay a toll.

If the Grand Viaduc is massive, the Pont de Normandie is supermassive. Granted, it doesn’t have the kink in it that the Viaduc has and, it actually has cycle lanes (ffs), so it can’t be too bad, eh?

I may have been conditioned slightly by conquering the first hurdle, because I recall through the purple mist swirling in my head, that I was actually breathing over the Pont.

The outcome is, that both challenges, though unavoidable and one costing actual Euros (£5.85 GBP) were met. We survived them.

Cal may never willingly travel over a high bridge with me again, mind.

Waze guides us successfully to Falaise. We’re a bit later than expected, partly because France is a bit bigger than we expected and partly because while they tell you it’s ok to go 130km an hour on the motorway, what’s that in real money anyway? And Betsy’s built like a sail, anything going past you at speed will give you a bit of a nudge on the aero.

The site, Camping du Chateau, is very neat and tidy, although the pitch we’re on, which has electric hook-up, is a bit tight so there’s no chance to even get the wind-out awning unwound.

A lady who’s just come out of the shower directs us up a steep back route into town. The sun is out, but people mostly aren’t. 

Falaise is notable for it’s massive castle - once home to Guillaume le Conquerat, whoever he was. Our site sits in its shadow. It’s a fabulous view and our first view of the town square tells us it leads to the castle entrance. There’s also an actual Second World War tank by the town hall.

Having been politely informed we’re too late for one bar, which is closing, we’re directed to Le Civet which is offers a welcome and the opportunity to catch the Milan derby in the Champions League semi finals on the telly.

A couple of rounds of drinks and it’s back to Betsy and to bed. Bit of a day all round, really.