Small Village - Big Money

Saturday May 15

So much to write about and no access to wi fi, or time to write for several days.

We arise very early in order to avoid possible capture by the New Forest police. We are successful. It is a gorgeous day as we head form the trail to the road on our way to Brockenhurst. Here we will catch the train to Southampton and the ferry to France.

The countryside is lush and green. It reminds me of Valley Forge, just outside of Philadelphia. Almost Amish country. The roads are fairly flat here (ah...relief) and the way seems quite easy. We make a side stop in a little village called Beaulieu. It appears to be a tourist village, modeled after towns of old, but it has several “touristy” shops. And here's the odd thing about this area – here, in what seems to be the middle of nowhere, there is a Bentley dealership, along with a Ferrari and Maserati dealership. Where are these people getting their money to pay for these luxury vehicles?

We arrive in Brockenhurst and Cookie now remembers the train station – there is no lift (elevator) to get the bikes up and over to the correct platform. As our bikes weigh 15 pounds and our paniers weight about 45 pounds, we must detach our equipment and transfer each piece separately up the tall flight of stairs and down to the other side. We will not make the train scheduled to arrive in three minutes and will need to wait for the next one in fifteen minutes.

With the transfer complete, the next train arrives and we are promptly told that there is a “medical emergency” in the first car and we will be delayed for about 20 minutes. A call over the loudspeaker system asks for “any persons with medical training to come to the first car.” Obviously, I stay where I am. Now, if there was a psychotic person needing assistance, I might go... no.

We arrive in Portsmouth and first check the location of the ferry. It is easy to get to along a bike path. We return to the town for a light lunch and a bit of window shopping. Then back to the ferry, do some adjustments on our bikes and paniers and then settle in for a long wait. We cannot check in until 7:30 pm, then we board the boat at 10 pm and depart at 11 pm. It is chilly as we wait outside in line to board the boat. The push-bikes do go first though.

On the top two decks, there are three partitioned off areas where there are TV monitor screens and a dozen or so rows of airline-type seating. We stake out a space and like many other passengers, put out our sleeping pads on the floor between two rows of seats. The churning of the engines lulls Morpheus to my sleeping pad and I am out. Next stop: France!