Busy Morning
The nice thing about being with friends is that they have a house, with electricity, and sometimes even a workplace where you can hang out and plan the rest of your trip!
I really needed to spend time planning the rest of the trip. Specifically, I needed to sort out my ferry to the netherlands, and a hotel in town the night before. Technically, I could have camped the evening before the ferry, but taking down the tent and packing usually takes an hour, and I didn’t want to rush.
I booked the ferry, found an affordable hotel, and was about to close my laptop when a doubt sprung up. My ferry and accommodation were in Harwich, but my route took me to Felixstowe. Two towns, flanking an estuary, barely more than 500 metres apart. Google told me that there was a ferry linking the two. All good then.
I almost closed the computer, but I still had a niggling doubt. How often did the ferry run?
The timetable was bad news. It ran from 9:30 in the morning to 16:30 in the afternoon. There was no way I would be in Felixstowe for the last ferry, and the earliest ferry was too late to catch my boat anyway …
That was a close call. If I’d missed the ferry, the detour would have been a paltry 60 kilometres, up one side of the estuary, and down the other …
I rushed to re-plan the next few days on the road.
If I pushed a bit, I would be able to reach Felixstowe a day earlier than planned. Not bad. This trip had been fun, but the idea of being home was appealing.
Kindred Spirit
I set off after lunch (fish and chips with mushy peas) and quickly made progress. Leaving Milton-Keynes, for once, I was on proper, segregated, cycle ways, not on low traffic roads.
I moved fast, but there wasn’t much to appreciate until I approached Cambridge. Here I veered into a few off-road sections. Flowy descents, picking a track and enjoying the speed.
Cyling along a river, an yellow float caught my attention. Between the branches, I spotted a swimmer, making their way up-river, their bag trailing behind them. I’d found somebdy on a stupider mission than me.
I looked for a view point from which to get a picture of them, and found a perfect spot, on a brdige across the river. Whilst I waited for them to float by, I wondered where they were going … Where they just commuting home from work? On their own adventure?
Cambridge
The countryside had been as beautiful as the previous days, the weather had been quite adequate, but after nearly two weeks, I was growing tired of seeing the same kind of scenery every day. I stopped trying to take pictures. They all looked alike at this point.
On a hill, looking down the path, I saw the steeples of Cambridge. It was enough of a marker on the day’s route that it sprung my out of my lethargy to snap a picture
In Cambridge, I was struck by the beauty of the town. I explored the city aimlessly, just looking around, and wanderer whether I should just spend the night here, but after a half hour, I felt like I had seen all the city had to offer.
Bad Decisions
Instead I set off looking for a campsite.
I arrived at the closest campsite, looked for the reception, and found a locked building and a large sign: “No arrivals after 6pm”. It was 7 pm.
No worry, I thought. I called the next closest campsite, about 20 minutes away, but nobody answered. I hoped the manager was just busy and just got back on the bicycle to ride there. On arriving I looked for the reception, but only found a locked gate. I tried calling the manager again, and this time they picked up.
They wanted me to pay in cash. I didn’t have any and didn’t particularly want to look for an ATM. They were nice enough to tell me where the closest ATM was, but I was tired, and annoyed at the extra riding.
I decided that I might as well go back to Cambridge to see what it looked like at night. I booked the cheapest hotel in town, a room above a pub with a shared bathroom.
I rushed back into Cambridge, cycling as fast as I could, racing against the falling night, and pulled out my phone looking for the address of the hotel.
My heart sank. The reservation had failed.
“Putain!”
I looked for another hotel, resigned myself to paying an absurd amount, and rode there. It was getting colder, and I was getting hungry.
When I got to the front desk they told me that I had to book online. I pulled out my phone again and saw a new email: I now a booking confirmation for the first hotel …
I rode back, and found myself staring at a locked door with a pin code.
I scoured my emails for instructions, re-read the emails I had multiple times looking for a detail I might have missed but nothing mentioned the door code …
I tried the phone number from the booking, but nobody picked up.
I looked around, saw the bouncers for the pub next door and asked for their help. They were sympathetic to my plight, and called the manager of the hotel for me. Within minutes I had all the information that I needed.
By the numbers
- Ride Started
- 13:04
- Ride Ended
- 20:48
- Distance
- 119 km
- Time Moving
- 6h 04m
- Time Elapsed
- 7h 44m
- Elevation Gained
- 702 m
- Distance so far
- 1930 km
- Riding so far
- 111h 02m
- Elevation so far
- 21337 m
Worse than camping?
After a game of bicycle tetris to bring my bicycle and bags upstairs, and moment of rest, I went out to look for dinner. I was craving fast-food and saw a “Wendy’s” an American fast food chain. It was 10 pm, and it was open until midnight.
When I ordered to eat in, they gave me my order to go. They were closing. I brought the food back to my room, and used as stool as a table. I was getting a campsite experience for the price of a hotel.
I looked around for a kettle and came up empty. I considered pulling out my camping stove, but worried about the smoke detector.
I was getting less than a campsite experience.
I went for a walk through the town, and came back disappointed. It wasn’t all that much. Approaching my street, I heard a growing commotion. It was a weeknight, yet the local youth were out on the streets for an evening of partying. English girls, characteristically underdressed, somehow resistant to the cold, despite their rather minimal outfits and boys noisily competing for their attention.
Back in my room, I tried to sleep but the commotion was too much.
I dug around my bag for earplugs.
Finally, it was quiet enough to sleep.
Maybe I should just have stayed at the campsite.