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Day 3: Caen to Evreux, July 4th, 147.5km

 [Today I was aiming for Evreux, where a friend of a friend had agreed to host me for a night]


I somewhat slept on the ferry. Around 5:30 I was awoken by the lights coming on and announcements. We left the ferry around 7. I cycled and walked my bike with a white whiskered Welshman and a fully laden German student who had just done John O’Groats to Land’s End (Cornwall was the worst part!). There was also a couple touring on a tandem bike. I said goodbye to them all at the passport gate, cycled round the corner and set my phone in its holder. The holder snapped, the bike fell, my phone screen cracked. Great… Ah well, I’ll find a new holder.


I cycled down a river for a while, crossed a bridge [which I later learned was Pegasus bridge, significant in the allied invasion of Normandy] and went back up towards the coast. I’m pretty sure I passed some WW2 defences but I can’t be sure. I stopped next to one beach and put my hand in the channel. I really feel like I’m exploring now. The next sea I go in might be the Adriatic.





I followed the coast for a while more, passing through some resort style towns. I took a detour to a bike store to get a new mount. No luck. In the next town I bought a chocolate croissant. I spoke French. They spoke English – classic. When I later bought a bar of Milka in a supermarket I got away with it. My French must be improving fast!


I then cycled up into the hills, down again, up again. The coast is getting further and further away. It’s overcast but warm. I quite like that. I’ve passed through lots of towns and wheat fields today. Now I’m on a long cycle path and taking a break to write this and charge my phone. It’ll have to be quick though. I told Sonny (Marie’s friend) in Evreux that I’d be there around 7. It’s now 12:40 and I’m only 1/3 of the way. Will have to pick up the speed.

 

I followed that path for 10km. Halfway down a Frenchman warned me of a coming obstruction, first in French, then in English. It was building work blocking the path. There was no-one around. I wheeled my bike through a ditch and around the fence as the helpful French-man had indicated. [I later got used to doing this sort of thing. The obstacles obstructing bike paths are varied and frequent.]


It was raining on and off all day, so the coat too was coming on and off. Most of the day was sleepy villages and increasingly larger wheat fields. I stopped in a churchyard and got some water from a tap. [The taps are used to water the plants around the graves, but the water is totally safe to drink. I learned this French cycling hack from a family friend, and you'll find it on many bike blogs.] . Finding my phone needed charging I looped the cord from the portable charger through my Camelbak. More hacks.


I sped through the rest of the country until I reached a bike path that went on for 40km. It had some lounging benches and I rested for a while. I forgot to turn my beeline back on. The next few hours were spent speeding and slowing along this one path. I overtook three youths on bikes with panniers who later overtook me, then were overtaken, then overtook etc. Eventually I passed them all lying exhausted on the verge towards the far end of the path.




As the path turned into the local ones for Evreux it began to rain again. Then it began to pour. I arrived at Sonny’s around 7, soaked through. He and his GF welcomed me and I took a shower and changed into dry clothes. I had some kind of chorizo bread to give me energy, then we headed out to the local pub in the midst of a thunderstorm. My shoes [RIP] were water logged.


At the pub we met his brother and a bunch of his friends. He seems to know everyone. He is a brewer and insisted I had to try some of his beer. We drank many of pints, chatted and the rain continued. After we went to get “French tacos” which are just kebab and chip wraps, but which they fiercely claim as their own invention. I got a three meat one. It weighed over 1kg and was the length of my forearm. I ate half of it, drank some strange spirits and passed out on his friends sofa.


We went back home and I slept, with the promise of 8 O’clock croissants the next day. I never did try any of his beer.

French Taco on scales weighing 1kg
1kg "French Taco"

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