Thursday (112 miles)
Left the B&B in Arromanches
and rode along the coast to the Battery at Longues – the last remaining gun battery with its original guns intact.
this one got a bit of abuse on D-Day!
Next up was Portes-en-Bessin before Omaha Beach and the US cemetary.
The American War Cemetary was very moving – perfectly maintained with perfectly placed row upon row of white crosses with a number on each. The beauty of the place belied the brutality and violence of the deaths represented by each cross.
"To these we owe the high resolve that the cause for which they died shall live".
Being able to see Omaha Beach where the men died from the cemetary itself was disturbing – what a waste of life. Rode the bike along the beach for a bit
I know Tuned In will be disappointed there hasn't been a shot of me so here's a gratuitous one just for you Gary!
...before heading for Pointe de Hoc where 225 US Rangers scaled the cliffs to capture the German position. Only 90 were fighting by the next day. The ground is so wrecked with craters and twisted concrete lies everywhere.
I wanted to visit the German cemetary and found it Cambe. I liked the inscription outside it: “...it is a graveyard for soldiers not all of whom had chosen the cause or the fight. They too have found rest in our soil of France.”
Saw the parachutist at Sainte Mere-Eglise and visited the Airbourne Museum there. The film they show is very good and gives a good overview of what happened on D-Day and in the following few weeks.
Last visit of the day before Cherbourg was Utah Beach.
At Cherbourg the customs guys were feeling energetic and gave the Polish van in front of me the works – slicing open every cardboard box and even the loaves of bread he was carrrying.
When I showed my passport something was said to an officious bloke who waved me over and asked “Where are your drugs?”. He then emptied my carefully packed panniers onto the tarmac... He then went through my toiletries and started to pat me down. He asked that I remove the armour from my trousers but I successfully put him off doing that – I didn’t fancy standing in my pants trying to put the trousers back together again. All the while he was asking “Where is your cannabis? Where are your drugs?”. At one point I was tempted to say “Up my arse” but thankfully sense prevailed. I certainly didn’t want him to check... By this time I was pissed off and every other vehicle was through and waiting in line for the boat. Reached my place in the row of bikes and a French dude called Arnaud shared saucisson with the rest of us and the world seemed right again.
Now sitting in the cabin and reading something by John O’Donohue. He writes for the traveller and says:
“Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in...
When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way.
More attentive now
To the self you bring along
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home...
When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
Find if you listen,
You will hear what your heart
Would love to say...”
Perfect.
Friday (250 miles)
Uneventful run back up north to home, my wife and my own bed...
When I got home I found out that the same kid who gave me a lollipop before I left had baked me four buns for my return! Here they are along with the carrot cake Lynda made me:
good to be back...