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Day 3
Cherbourg-Octeville - La Brèche aux Charriers
27km
Finally the day arrives. I ride down into downtown Cherbourg, negotiate the city centre, and wait outside the ferry port for Laurence and Oliver to arrive. Time passes slowly in the sun. A student photographer asks me if he can take some pictures. At last I glimpse them riding fully loaded up from the ferry. I ride to greet them. They are very tired. They didn't manage to get any sleep last night whilst waiting for the ferry. I am donated a pair of front pannier bags, and am promptly loaded up with more kit. These guys aren't messing around, they've come fully prepared with enormous luxury sleeping mats, USB battery powered speakers that can be cable tied onto the handlebars and plugged into our iPods, and solar panels for charging all of the tech equipment. Oh yes, not to forget the five man tent to accommodate us and our bikes. The three of us assembled at last on the Atlantic coast of France, I decide it must be time for a drink, and lead the way to a pub with which I have become acquainted during my time in Cherbourg. The El'Dorado has it's own micro brewery where they produce five fine beers. For a modest five euros, you can have a long wooden tray delivered to the table, with a small 200ml taster glass of each of the five beers. We have one each. The time is approximately 11am. Arriving at Marion's house we are treated to a wonderful roast chicken and potato dinner out in the garden. It's very sunny and we take this opportunity to test the solar panels by charging the phones and speakers. Laurence and Ollie go to catch a few hours' much needed sleep upstairs, while I take a walk. This evening we are to make a short journey south to Marion's father's house, from where we will set off into the wilderness the following morning. After just 2km, Ollie's Nokia smart phone falls off his home made phone bracket on his handlebars and into the road at speed. Luckily, it survives with nothing more than a scratch. Another few kilometres and Laurence comes a little too close to the kerb, grinding down a couple of teeth on the front cog of his new lightweight aluminium bike. This causes some small difficulty in the coming weeks but does not greatly hinder progress once he becomes accustomed to it. This mere 27kms is one of the hardest days' riding; we were all tired and well out of practise, and the road is very up and down. There are a couple of long straight sections on this route, at the end of which one can see the church spire of the next village in the distance, dead in line with the road. This positioning of the church relative to the road has a wonderful effect, as one can see the spire, many kilometres away at first, gradually getting closer on the horizon, patiently waiting to usher you into the next settlement. I have noted the same effect elsewhere in France, leading me to believe that this relationship between the spire and the highway is not coincidental. Arriving a little later than planned at Marion's dad's place in the countryside, we are treated to a lovely stew and a few glasses of farewell wine. The boys have had team T-shirts made up for the three of us. I receive mine, which reads 'The Sherriff', a prophecy that will be fulfilled all too soon as I spend the next day apprehending the boys for stopping in the middle of the road every half an hour and driving the wrong way round roundabouts. Ollie's T reads 'Born Hard', make of that what you will, and Laurence's 'F*** Yeah!'. Not that it probably makes much difference to a Frenchman, but Laurence was not kind enough to clothe this expletive in asterisks as I have done. The evening draws in and we pour over maps, finalising our trajectory for the next day. We all take a shower and settle down to our last night in proper beds, with real mattresses and bed sheets.
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