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Day 2: Brades Acre to Portsmouth, July 3rd, 119km.

[I took the ferry from Portsmouth to Caen, rather than from Dover. It's closer to Bristol and I wanted to leave the UK ASAP. I also have a friend in Portsmouth who was able to host me for an evening.]


Woke at 5 and couldn’t get back to sleep. Eventually dug my fleece out of my bag. The warmth helped a little. After a while I packed up, brushed my teeth, and left just after 7. The day was overcast. I missed the sunrise. I cycled past military bases and firing ranges. I passed barracks and bunkers and shrouded tanks. All very ominous.


A tank on a trailer behind a barbed wire fence

I followed quiet roads until I reached the entrance to Stonehenge. Closed. Beeline [The navigation system I used for most of the trip] took me a circuitous way to another viewpoint. I cycled through a small wood and along a long gravel path, navigating past the deepest areas and skidding in the scree. At one point I powered through a deep puddle, coating my shoes and ankles in mud. I waited for 5 minutes to cross a busy road and got to a great viewpoint for Stonehenge. Traveller and druid types had parked their vans about. I saw one laying out knickknacks for sale. I could have snuck into the site itself. It was not open yet, but was unguarded. There were people by the stones.



a distant view of stonehenge with a man in orange gloves pointing at it


In the end I chickened out and joined the busy road which took me to Amesbury. I am sat there now in a café, having just eaten a full English. A hot meal was nice.


a full english breakfast on a table with a bike helmet

 ***

After Amesbury I was once again cycling along quiet roads. Eventually, due to my need to go to an outdoor camping shop and fix my pole, I found myself cycling through industrial estates and the city of Southampton. One estate had a very sour chemical smell – it was overpowering and I got out of there fast.


Most of today was spent listening to Sherlock Holmes which was a great bit of escapism – esp. the redheaded league. What nonsense! [There is a 72 hour long audio-book of every Sherlock Holmes story narrated by Stephen Fry. Very useful for a long trip. I was still listening to it in Austria. Audible is an essential companion for solo cycling in my opinion] I cycled through unremarkable shopping centres, stopping in both Go Outdoors and Decathlon in hope of finding a replacement tent pole. No luck. My pole is too thin.


Eventually I reached the coast and the smell of the sea made me feel like I was on a real adventure. The water was remarkably blue – though perhaps in an unnatural, polluted kind of way – rather than the clear blue of Greece. Hopefully I’ll see that again relatively soon!


the blue water between Southhampton and Portsmouth


I had to get a ferry across a river and had no cash. The captain let me ride for free! On the other side I got out on a sea-weedy wharf – luckily no-one slipped. There were tonnes of old people about. A dad and a daughter who were on my ferry had a flat tire. I offered to help. They refused. 


I [...] continued along the coast, turned into a huge cabbage field, [not in a Kafka kind of way] then my Beeline died. I used climbing tape to secure my portable charger to the bike, and continued. I passed a hovercraft museum and eventually got the ferry to Portsmouth itself. Today is a day of ferries. I arrived at Tilly’s at 5:45. She gave me a beer and I had a much needed shower, washing off some of the mud from the earlier puddle.



a bicycle leaning on a fence in front of a big ship in portsmouth harbour


I wrapped up warm and we went out to a local brewery. I got a pork laden burger and a wheat beer. Then an IPA. Then a lager. I also ate a chocolate orange tart for pudding. It all went down well. The joys of exercise. [Being able to eat a lot and not gain weight is one of the best parts of long distance cycling]. By the time we left it was 9:15. Late!


I hurriedly collected my charger, filled my water, and raced to the ferry port. I initially checked in at the wrong place. When I was directed to the car entrance I was technically late. They let me through anyway. I waited behind some motorcyclists as cars piled up around us. They were planning to bike around Normandy. Weak!


At last I got onto the ferry, found my elusive seat, then went to a table to write this. Soon I will try to sleep. Good luck to me!


a smiling ginger man on a ferry

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