Where's Bertie? He's in the Aire at Wissant, just down the coast from Calais. It's another return visit as this is where he also spent the first night of this trip.
Leaving Bergues this morning with the fuel light on, we intended to stop at the petrol station we had seen on our way into town. Finding we couldn't turn left into it due to solid white lines, I expected Mick to go around the roundabout a few moments further on. He didn't, and the next fuel that wouldn't involve a detour was at the Cité Europe shopping centre, where we were headed for wine, tea bags and rice (the latter two being of varieties not easily available in the UK). Bertie's range told us he could manage another 77km on the fuel we had remaining, which was fine as we were only going 49km.
Half way there the range reading said 77km. As we pulled in it said 77km. Hmmm. Does it just stop counting down at that figure, or does it pessimistically state it automatically when the low fuel light comes on? I know not, but we crammed 82.5 litres into his 80 litre tank, which would suggest that it was quite empty (or that I've mis-remembered its capacity).
Shopping trip complete, we arrived at Wissant at a time of day when there were spaces at the Aire and, pausing only for elevenses, we nipped down to the beach before the day got too warm.
Who nicked the sea? It's been much further in when we've been here before
This trip has not been heavy on eating out. In fact, if you ignore the take-away burgers we had in Kristiansand, when we needed to spend our remaining Norwegian Krone, we haven't eaten out once. Neither of us thus needed any persuading to stop at a restaurant on our way back for enormous servings of Moules Frites.
We subsequently waddled back to Bertie and lounged for a few hours before feeling in a fit state for a swim.
Arriving at the beach at 6pm the tide was much further in, and there were far more people around than we had expected at that time of day:
I'll wager that the beach emptied rapidly come 7.30, not because it was tea time, but because that's when a sudden downpour struck. Here on the Aire it was a flurry of activity as people put stuff away and closed windows, and over the next ten minutes various drowned rats, who had been off in town or at the beach, scampered back to their vans, thoroughly caught out.
And there we have it: the final blog post of this trip. Tomorrow morning we will head back through the tunnel, exiting it on the other side with much chanting of 'drive on the left, drive on the left...'.
Leaving Bergues this morning with the fuel light on, we intended to stop at the petrol station we had seen on our way into town. Finding we couldn't turn left into it due to solid white lines, I expected Mick to go around the roundabout a few moments further on. He didn't, and the next fuel that wouldn't involve a detour was at the Cité Europe shopping centre, where we were headed for wine, tea bags and rice (the latter two being of varieties not easily available in the UK). Bertie's range told us he could manage another 77km on the fuel we had remaining, which was fine as we were only going 49km.
Half way there the range reading said 77km. As we pulled in it said 77km. Hmmm. Does it just stop counting down at that figure, or does it pessimistically state it automatically when the low fuel light comes on? I know not, but we crammed 82.5 litres into his 80 litre tank, which would suggest that it was quite empty (or that I've mis-remembered its capacity).
Shopping trip complete, we arrived at Wissant at a time of day when there were spaces at the Aire and, pausing only for elevenses, we nipped down to the beach before the day got too warm.
Who nicked the sea? It's been much further in when we've been here before
This trip has not been heavy on eating out. In fact, if you ignore the take-away burgers we had in Kristiansand, when we needed to spend our remaining Norwegian Krone, we haven't eaten out once. Neither of us thus needed any persuading to stop at a restaurant on our way back for enormous servings of Moules Frites.
We subsequently waddled back to Bertie and lounged for a few hours before feeling in a fit state for a swim.
Arriving at the beach at 6pm the tide was much further in, and there were far more people around than we had expected at that time of day:
I'll wager that the beach emptied rapidly come 7.30, not because it was tea time, but because that's when a sudden downpour struck. Here on the Aire it was a flurry of activity as people put stuff away and closed windows, and over the next ten minutes various drowned rats, who had been off in town or at the beach, scampered back to their vans, thoroughly caught out.
And there we have it: the final blog post of this trip. Tomorrow morning we will head back through the tunnel, exiting it on the other side with much chanting of 'drive on the left, drive on the left...'.
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