 Damian poses with a sign he drew |
I get the 191 bus from Levenshulme. Before this, I went to a jeweller's to get a new battery for my watch. I was carrying a sports bag and a huge "Little Chef" clear plastic binliner on my back, full of hitch signs, as drawn by Damian Tichborne. The jeweller saw how much I was struggling with all this stuff, so asked me what I was doing. When I told him I was doing something for "Children In Need", he gave me the watch battery, completely free of charge.
Arrive at Student Union. Henry and Matt nowhere to be seen.
Henry finally arrives, and insists it's 10.00 now. Typical! We wait...and wait...and wait...and still no Matt to be seen - not that we know what he looks like anyway!!!!! We look out for people wearing black leather jackets (he mailed me a few days ago, and told me he was wearing one then). We are supposed to meet him at the "Coke" machine, so we look out for people (with black leather jackets) loitering around near the "Diet Pepsi" machine. I approach someone standing near the "Diet Pepsi" machine, and ask him if he is meeting someone - he fiercely replies, "No, I'm not".
I go to the computer science department to send a message to Matt. I see a message from him, that he sent yesterday, saying that he'll be in the Student Union by 10.30am at the latest!
Get back to the Student Union. Matt is there now (he would be, wouldn't he?). He is wearing a camouflage jacket. Henry and I suspect he was there all along, camouflaged with the surroundings, so we didn't see him. He says his passport has gone missing, and he will return to his hall (to get his birth certificate I assume), get a 1 year British Visitor's Passport from the Post Office, then come back here with it.
Matt returns, saying his passport is in his parents' house in Peterborough. So he hasn't bought a temporary one - he intends for us to hitch to Dover via Peterborough. Erg... That's a bit out of our way really.
Register, and get our "free" t-shirts.
Leave Student Union.
My bag strap plastic doodah breaks!!! I re-attach it differently, and carry my bag of food separately - too heavy to have it all in the same bag.
Start hitching on Princess Road.
A lorry stops, but he can only pick up one of us! Oh! Get the signs back out....
Get lift with a Scouse man (I think) who's going to Warrington. He'll drop us off at the turn-off for the M6. He's a musician and is in a duo / cabaret act. He tells us about a "Stack Overflow" error problem he's having on his PC. We're all clueless, and smile inanely.
 Matt and Howell gather their bags |
Get dropped off at Junction 20 off the M6. We have to walk to a roundabout 10 minutes' walk away that leads on to the M6 to Birmingham.
Start hitching at slip-road (tut! tut!) to Junction 20 of the M6. We see another hitcher (not a student hitcher) who's trying to get to Birmingham.
Get picked up by a Yorkshireman in a Montego who's going to drop us at M5 services near Birmingham. He's got Jimi Hendrix playing on the radio ("Purple Haze"). As we move off, the other hitcher is still stood there, waiting patiently for a lift. After asking us what courses we do (Henry and I lie, and say we are still students, studying computer science and computer science and maths respectively), the driver starts talking about "Bytes and bits" - weirdo! The Red Hot Chilli Peppers come on the radio too. It's some sort of "Rock afternoon" on Radio 1, and it's being broadcast from Concorde!
I fall asleep for the first time (near Keele Services).
We get dropped off at Granada services near Birmingham, near the M5. We look at the map, and see that Peterborough is as far east of here as Birmingham is from Manchester (the route we've just travelled). But there's no direct route there, lots of minor roads all along the way. Matt phones Dover to find out if he can go over without his passport. He can't.
I phone up to see if his parents sending his passport to arrive the next day would be ok, and then he'd be able to pick it up on the way back (at Dover, they don't usually look at your passport when you go abroad). They say it would be ok with them when going over, but not when going through French customs - they must examine his passport. Having the passport number is not good enough either - the passport must be physically there.
The only option would be to get his passport delivered to Dover by an express mail or courier service, for tonight. This is too expensive...
Matt leaves by himself to go to Peterborough. There's no way we could have gone with him - it could have spoiled the hitch for all 3 of us. We'll phone his house later on tonight, to see if he's there, gone to Dover to meet us, or if he's left a message with his parents. If he's not in Peterborough by the end of today (i.e. before midnight), he won't be able to get to Dover for ages, and we'll go to Calais without him.
We wander round the lorries, and really want a lift to a service-station on the way. But we find a driver who'll drop us at a junction on the M40 near M25, near Heathrow Airport. I'm very worried that it'll be a bad move, since in my 1990 hitch-hike I was stranded near Heathrow Airport for ages. I realise then that we are on the M5 (West of Birmingham) and most Dover lorries will be on the M1 (East of Birmingham, south of M6 motorway). We're lucky to get a lift down the M40, so go for it.
Get a lift with a lorry driver to M40 near M25. He carries lorry cabs. He's quite friendly - he tells us about life as a lorry driver (5 or 6 days a week), and how he rarely sees his wife. He's from Slough, and is just returning home from Oldham. The lorry's maximum speed is 60 m.p.h., but mostly goes slower. He tells us about McDonalds - what they're really made of. He has to have a 1/2 hour break at a rest area at Junction 10 off the M40 (there's no service stations on the M40, but this rest area is just off it, along a junction).
Arrive at the little lay-by refreshment stop off the M40. We hassle drivers while we're there, and find a good one - a man on his own who's going to Kent. He'll drop us off at the NEW SERVICES on the M25. We get our bags from the truck driver, and say bye. We wait while this man eats some sandwiches and drinks some coffee. He puts all of our luggage in the boot. I eat a few of my sandwiches and have two drinks. He seems like a nice friendly chap.
Leave the little truckstop in this man's car. He has a beard. He seems quite posh - he listens to Radio 4! His son studies "International relations and politics" at Aberdeen - he's in the OTC (Officer Training Corps) at University, and sleeps in an "Arctic bag" (sleeping bag) under the stars. There's loads of fog, traffic hold-ups on the M40 (strangely!!) and M25 (of course). There's breakdowns everywhere - we see the emergency vehicles dashing down the hard shoulder.
I fall asleep again, and sleep for most of the journey. As I fall asleep, we get stuck in a traffic jam just after Junction 4.
Les Dawson tells a particularly amusing mushroom joke, according to Henry.
We pass the M3.
28 miles from the services on the M25.
10 miles from the services.
Arrive at "Roadchef" / "Clacket Lane" services on the M25. Phone Matt, but he's not in Peterborough yet. We wander around the lorries, hassle people at the entrance, and hang around at the exit roads for ages, but no-one stops. One man who I hassle at the entrance says he can't give us a lift to Dover as he has too much luggage with him - but he gives us 5 pounds for "Children In Need" instead (Wow!). I buy a bottle of Sunkist. Eventually, after a very long wait, a man calls over to us from the petrol pump, to ask where we're going to. We yell "Dover".
Lift to M2 services in a messy van. Henry sits on a pile of tools. The man has a strong London accent, and listens to a "Key 103"-style radio station that plays lot of disco-type songs. I think he may be an "Essex boy". He seems like the kind of person who'd enjoy a cheesy disco with lots of tarts and dance music. That's cool. We don't speak much.
Sign "Dover 35". Man informs us he joined the M2 AFTER THE SERVICES...
Sign "Dover 24". Meatloaf's "I'd Do Anything For Love" is just starting on the radio.
Get dropped off at a petrol station - "Harblewell Services" (with a "Little Chef" beside it) on the A2. Had we been here 45 minutes earlier, we could have had a coffee in the "Little Chef". It's deserted - no cars come here. I phone the local radio station (0227 772000) - Henry remembers the number. I ask if they'll announce on the air that we're doing a charity hitch and we need someone to give us a lift to Dover from here. Since all the locals will listen to that station, it might just work! I phone Matt at 11pm, but he's still not there.
Lift with a lorry driver going to Dover. He's from Manchester, and lives in Wales. His son is a student in Wrexham. He's got a beard, is scruffy, and smokes. He speaks like Simon Sausage's mum. Sign saying "Dover 16".
Arrive in Dover. We decide not to try for a free crossing, but to pay. See LINDSEY, who Dave Bruton chatted up 2 years ago while we were on the hitch. I buy two 35 pounds P&O 5-day return tickets to Calais from her. Henry and me have a smile about it. We walk around with inane "Jenny" grins for a while.
The departure lounge here is full of Manchester "24 Hour Hitch" people. One of the hitchers is dressed as a BEAR! - well at least he/she'll be warm. But, since they're students, they can get 3-day return Calais tickets from Sealink for just 18 pounds, so they are all going on the Sealink ferry to Calais. That ferry will be full of them. We are the only foot passengers on the P&O ferry (we see all the other foot passengers on the shuttle bus going to the ferry) who are Manchester hitchers. Which means: NO COMPETITION for getting lifts with people on our ferry. Excellent!!!
Board the "Pride of Dover" ferry. Throughout the journey, I ask people where they're going, but most people on the ferry are on a coach trip to Paris - and I cannot get a lift at all with anyone. After all, most car drivers will have got a ferry earlier on Friday evening - they wouldn't be leaving Dover at this time of night really.
Arrive in Calais, but we cannot leave the ferry yet. All of us foot passengers sit on the floor for over 20 minutes (the cleaners pass by us while we wait). Someone who looks like the Captain escorts the 6 of us into the lift, to the car deck, and we leave on the shuttle bus.
 Hitching into town?! |
Arrive at waiting room in Calais. There's some Manchester people here. Lots of them have crashed out on the floor in their sleeping bags. A few of them are wandering around, but most of them have given up for the night. We go outside, and try hitching with all the cars and lorries that pass through. They all completely ignore us. We talk to other hitchers and they tell us it's really hopeless here. We stand at the exit to the lorry park for hours - it's dark. We take a photo of each other standing next to the "Calais" sign. We wander back to the lorry park and hassle drivers. We decide to walk out of the port and into town - we follow a road out of the port. We meet 2 other hitchers standing by the roadside. I talk to them, then we continue onward up the road. We walk through really thick fog and very cold conditions in complete darkness for what seems like hours. The road is fast. In fact it later transpires that it is a French motorway! There's a spooky factory (with lots of eerie lights in the fog) out of sight in the mist, making bizarre noises. We walk for hours but the road curves on into obscurity.
Eventually we reach a turn-off (it's light by now) and walk down the slip road to a roundabout. We decide to hitch from here. It's freezing. Henry stands near the road returning to the motorway and I try to hitch on the road to Calais. No-one stops. Lots of British cars and vans drive past into Calais - obviously on boozing trips. We stay here for hours, but give up in the end and walk along the road to Calais. It is really depressing - the houses are sparse, dull & crumbling and there are very few trees. The mist has gone, though. We arrive at a hypermarket and somehow decide that people leaving the shop might be driving to the South of France!?! Henry is dead tired and sits in the entrance area while I wander around pointing my sign at people. I hassle loads of people in the entrance lobby to the hypermarket, and lots of people in the car park.
We pay to get a bus into the town centre. Henry hasn't got a clue where to get off and I am asleep, so he guesses. He wakes me up and we leave the bus. We locate the free bus back to port and "jump" on it. We re-meet the two hitchers from earlier. They are giving up and going home. WE ARE NOT! We are determined to escape from this French hell-hole. We try the lorries again - no luck. We try cars leaving the ferry - no luck.
We get the free bus back into Calais town centre. There's lots of bizarre singing Australian people on board. We are pissed off with Calais but think we might have more luck on a main road. We find a town map (near the train station) and follow the streets (Henry pretends he knows the way) along by the river and down to the main road.
 The Mini Market garage |
Start hitching on "Boulevard Victor Hugo" (I buy some French cakes - mmm!). We're at the start of a street, near a bench. We decide that one of us should sit on the bench with all the bags, while the other one stands and hitches. We alternate. I use the "Portaloo" toilet here. We walk further on down the main road to a Mobil "Mini Market" garage (GARAGE DE L'EGALITE). Fuel prices: 5.53, 5.49, 5.85 & 4.19. There is a "Dipsonic" shop nearby (what the hell is that???). The road stretches off into an infinity of terraced houses. No-one gives us a lift. I hassle them "at the pumps".
We give up and walk dejectedly back to the train station and the free bus stop. We have to get back there by 19.10 at the latest, to catch the last free bus back to the port. We pass a phone and I call Lizzi up, and tell her how hopeless it all is. We arrive at the train station, and I investigate the prices of trains to Avignon. It's all computerised here - and you have to put a VISA card into the machine in order to pay. It turns out that it'd cost about 580 francs for a SINGLE (I think) to Avignon from here. We decide to go back to the port, spend the night there, and perhaps spend tomorrow in Calais.
 Back at the port... |
We get on the free bus back to the port. The bus is full of people with tons of booze. I fall over onto an English bloke when it swerves around a corner. When we get back to the port we notice that almost all of the other hitchers have gone home!
We decide to go to the bar in Calais port. We've had a very, very long day (it's been 15 hours since we got here!), and we just want to put our feet up now. We get the lift up to the bar, and it's very squashed - with weird English people in it. We manage, by a miracle, to find a table. The place is so packed-out with English people - it's ridiculous. All these people who've come over here to get cheap beer are now getting drunk in the bar, before returning to England. There's 2 rooms. I join the queue for the bar, which is in the other room. The queue is huge. I am served by a French woman, whose English is not very good. I ask for bitter, but she does not understand me. They only sell lagers on the continent really. A man behind me recommends something that is similar to bitter, but she has sold out of it. I buy two pints of lager. I return to Henry. We are both very tired, and realise that it's highly likely this alcohol will go straight to our heads. I take off loads of my layers, as it is very hot in here.
We leave the bar. We make plans to sleep here for the night, as today has been such a hopeless day, and we probably won't get a lift now tonight. We sit in the waiting room area, and don't see any other hitchers here. The last time we saw some, they were fed up and were thinking of going back to Dover. I look at the ferry timetable to see when ferries are due to arrive here from Dover. They turn out to be approximately every half an hour. I feel really tired and don't want to hitch any more tonight - just sleep. But Henry makes sure that we go outside into the FREEZING COLD and hold up our signs, near to where all the cars leave from. The first few occasions, just like earlier on today, they all look at us, and just pass by and ignore us. In between going out, I sleep on the seat.
I am asleep on some chairs in the port. The next ferry is due in. Henry tries to wake me by pushing me off the seat, but still I remain asleep.
I tell him, "No! Let me sleep". He manages to drag me outside, half-asleep, and the cold really shocks me, after being warm inside. The ice-cold air helps to keep me awake. We stand with our signs up again, and as before loads of cars pass by.
Then, to our (mine especially) surprise, a funny-looking old and dodgy car stops for us. The driver tells us he's going to Koln in Germany. We don't have to think about it at all - we just get in (me in the front). WAHAY! We're on our way... to Germany... oh well, it's better than Calais. The way we feel, Moss Side is better than Calais. We've been here for 18 hours trying to get a lift!
The driver is white, has chunky dreadlocks, and looks weird - he looks like a druggy. He huddles over the steering wheel. The car chugs along on the deserted French motorway. The car is very old. He reveals to us that he bought the car last week from a scrapyard and has re-built the engine himself. There is no tax and he is not insured! Plus this is the first time he has driven it - he's on his way to see someone in Germany. None of the doors fit (they're from other cars!), there are no heaters and there are lots of holes. Consequently, there's a terribly cold wind coming in for the whole journey - as he's driving very fast (probably breaking the speed limit). The car feels very wobbly as it goes along. He stops the car from time to time, to fill up the water and oil, as there's a leak in the car! I don't like it - I feel unsafe, and imagine us not making it to Koln in one piece. I fall asleep for most of the journey.
We pass Dunkirk. The driver reads his map, so I have to lean across and steer. I am hopeless - the car swerves all over the road - luckily it is night and there aren't many cars around.
Pass Lille. The driver puts a huge blanket around him and over his head, to keep himself warm! He looks very silly. His fingers poke out to grip the steering wheel. Henry shivers - I sleep. The driver drops the blanket at one point, and steers with his knees while he sorts it out. Henry panics!
Enter Belgium.
Stop to re-fill oil and water. His door won't close, so he gets out and kicks it shut. Now it's jammed, so he has to get in and out via the passenger seat! Just when I thought it was safe to fall asleep!
Petrol gauge shows "Empty" and we are slowing up a hill, but make it ok and arrive at a petrol station.
Enter Germany.
Arrive at a CRAP service-station at Frechen near Koln. We thank the weirdo, and say bye to him. There's ice on the ground. We go inside. Almost empty except for some German women who work here. They tell us to sit in a corner where there is a sign which I reckon means "lorry drivers" or something. We buy some cakes and things to eat, and then pay by VISA, as we have no German money. Eventually we go outside but it is FREEZING. We go inside, into a small area beside the "restaurant", by the toilets, to keep warm. We study the maps on the wall. We each pick up a map of Germany which includes all the service stations on it - very handy! We are here for hours.
 Konigsforst West |
Get a lift in a van from the service-station at Frechen, where the dreadlocked guy dropped us off, to near Konigswinter. The driver is a student who studies psychology, philosophy, sociology and other dossy courses. He wants to be a social worker. He speaks good English, and says my German is very good! Every Sunday, in order to make some money, he deals in antiques at a market. The van is full of antiques now.
Arrive in Konigsforest Gaststatte. It's very small - Henry takes a photo of me in front of it. Lots of cars stop here. We sit inside the entrance by some plants, and hassle people entering and leaving.
Leave in a BMW with a couple. The woman speaks very good English. She studied at the LSE (London School of Economics) in London. They're off to meet their son in Frankfurt - he's arriving there by plane from Moscow.
 Howell and a car |
Arrive at Siegburg Gaststatte. We say bye to the couple, and go to the top of the hill, where there's a motel, restaurant, toilets etc. But nowhere to sleep! (for free, that is). We meet an Israeli weirdo (Mr. Israel) who's been hitching for a month. He's been to various places - last stop Spain, possibly the UK next month. He's hassling people for money. He asks everyone who passes for a coin. Soon he has a few (to make a phone call, he says). Strangely, he is asking them in English.
We go down to the fuel pumps and hassle drivers. Mr. Israel wanders down and tries the same. He says we are on the wrong side of the road, but I don't believe him - he is just trying to get rid of us so he can get a lift. We're here for ages (as usual).
I find an Irishman who's going in the direction and region of Frankfurt. He says there's no room for our stuff, unless we stick it in the back, with his fishy load. I refuse, then he says he'll make room in his cab for us anyway. He's very talkative - I talk to him for ages about all different things. He's been divorced at least twice and his current wife is always hassling him for some money because she doesn't think he gives her enough! He asks us seriously if we think he should divorce her too - we don't know what to say. He's also a very sarcastic chap - he insults us wherever possible! I sleep for the second half of the journey.
 The service station in Bad Camberg |
Arrive at a service station in Bad Camberg, approximately 60 km from Frankfurt. I get woken up by Henry and the driver when we arrive. I was fast asleep. The service station has nowhere for us to sit except outside on some benches in the icy cold, or inside, in a posh restaurant. There is a very small and crap shop here.
We decide that we'll go to Frankfurt, and then go back through France, to Calais. We draw up signs: "Nachste Raststatte", "Modenbach" (the next town along - there's a Raststatte there). Henry stands at the exit from the service station, while I stand by the side of a road next to the service station, which also joins the motorway.
A car stops for me - and we get picked up by two English people: a man and his daughter. They ask us about ourselves:
GIRL: "You're not doing the 24 Hour Hitch, are you?".
US: "Yes!"
GIRL: "Cool - I'm at Manchester University too, studying German, in my second year. I lived near here for 2 years before going to University. I used to go to school in Frankfurt. I live in Ladybarn Lane now."
HOWELL: "Near the Battered Cod?"
GIRL: "Yes! I love Germany. I'll come here next year, on my year abroad. I love Frankfurt, and will be here next year."
It's quite a coincidence that she's from Manchester - I can't believe it. It seems like her parents live out in Germany, and have done for 3 years now. She's just spent a week there, and is now on her way to Frankfurt airport, to fly back to Manchester. We tell them that we're both ex-students, and about our respective occupations and locations. I tell them that I'm originally from South Wales, and I've decided to stay in Manchester now.
FATHER: "Which part of South Wales?"
HOWELL: "Ebbw Vale".
FATHER (grinning wildly): "Ebbw Vale! I'm going there tomorrow."
I get extremely weirded out at this point.
FATHER: "I must go to a factory there, it's to do with my work."
HOWELL: Where is it? Rassau (Ra-sa)?"
FATHER: "No, it's just outside Ebbw Vale, and it's called Rassau (Rass-eye) Industrial Estate"
HOWELL: "That's what I said - it's pronounced as 'Rassau (Ra-sa)' by all the locals. That's where I used to live. I used to work in a plastic bag recycling factory in that industrial estate 4 years ago. As you drive up to the industrial estate, you'll even go past my parents' house!"
I consider giving him some of my clothes, to give my mother to wash. Now that would freak her out:
MAN: "Excuse me, Mrs. Parry. I gave your son a lift to Frankfurt Airport in Germany yesterday afternoon, like you do, and he gave me these clothes for you to wash for him. Ok? Bye."
MY MOTHER: "Erg!!!!!" (and other noises)
They tell us that, rather than dropping us off at Modenbach services, and us possibly waiting 2 hours for a lift into Frankfurt, we might as well go to the airport with them, and then take a 10 minute train journey to "Hauptwache Bahnhof", which is the train station in middle of Frankfurt city centre.
They also give us detailed information of how and from where we should hitch back to France. It's amazing, not only do we get an excellent lift with these, they also turn out to be English, the girl lives in Manchester, the father's off to my home town tomorrow, and they even give us directions out of Frankfurt. Most amazing!
To get back to France:
Get a train to Frankfurt's "Hauptbahnhof"
Leave the station, and on leaving the front entrance, turn left.
Carry on in that direction, and you will encounter the start of the motorway, after walking past the "Festhalle" (a festival hall - e.g. like G-Mex).
We firstly need to go on the A648 motorway, which leads onto the A66 to Wiesbaden.
We then need to head towards Wiesbaden, Mainz, Kaiserslautern, and Saarbrucken, which is on the Germany-France border.
Head north through France, back to Calais.
Arrive at Frankfurt airport. We leave the car in the airport car park, and then make our way into the airport complex (the train station "Frankfurt Flughafen" is easily accessible from here). After a few minutes, Henry puts his hand in his jacket pocket, and notices that his camera has gone missing - it must have fallen out in the car. The girl's father rushes back to the car, and returns with the camera.
They head off towards the airport, and point us towards the railway station. We thank them for the excellent lift and information, and say bye to them. Instead of going straight to the train station we look around loads of the shops here - it's like a big underground shopping centre. We decide to have a good look around. We find a travel agents that gets cheap air tickets, but on closer examination, we see that they aren't just cheap flights, they're package holidays. We don't really want a package holiday now! - I've got to be back in "Little Chef" in under 3 days' time. We buy a can each from a shop here - and all the cans have cartoon characters or sports things on them - it's as though they're all advertising things on them - they're sponsored or something.
On our journey here, the girl told us we should hang out in Frankfurt city centre for a bit - she loves it there.
Henry says that rather than carrying all our bags with us all night, we should put them into the left luggage department. So I put all my carrier bags into my big clear polythene "Signs bag", so I've now got less bags - you have to pay per bag you see. We put our bags onto a conveyor belt which passes them through an x-ray machine, to test if we've got any weapons or bombs in the bags. We get tickets, and will have to pay when we get our bags back, depending on how long we leave them for (number of days). At last - nothing to carry! It's really amazing not to be lugging heavy bags with us - we feel so "free". It's a great relief, but feels odd walking around without anything. Henry makes sure he keeps his passport with him, but I forget!
  The Christmas market |
There's loads of stalls selling sausages (loads of varieties), hot wine ("Gluhwein", "Weihnachtspunch" and others), souvenirs, craft shops and loads more. There's absolutely loads of stalls all round the centre of Frankfurt, and there's a few small fairground rides for the children too. There's crowds of people here (jolly Germans), with their children. We both buy a sausage (Henry buys two), and I buy some Gluhwein too, which is really beautiful, and warms me up. There's Christmas music playing (songs like "O Tannenbaum" - "O Christmas Tree", which I sing along to). There's a nice warm atmosphere here - loads of German families out for the night, enjoying themselves, eating, drinking and singing Christmas songs. We buy postcards from a shop which is still open. There are some Americans in the shop - they speak perfect German; well, they fooled Henry anyway. I buy a little German model of a funny-looking man for my Aunty Nancy, and "Mutti" and "Vati" (Mum and Dad) mugs for my parents, from the craft shops. We see some little people made from peanut shells in the craft shops (which would not make it back to England in my bag really), and loads of mugs with German names on them - which I find amusing.
After a while, it gets bitterly cold, and I wish I'd worn more layers now. We consider going to a pub here, but they're all really full. We take lots of photos. Eventually, we admit to ourselves that the cold is too unbearable now, so we wander the streets some more and then head back to the train station, and back to the airport, where we plan to crash out for the night.
We arrive back at the airport, and decide not to pick up our bags until tomorrow morning, so they'll be safe overnight. We explore the airport complex - there's so many shops everywhere. It gets late, and I fancy going to a bar, but I see a few of them closed - in fact most places are closed. Henry wanders off to see if he can find a bar, while I sit down and wait for him. He comes back and says he's found one. So we have a quick drink just before 11 pm. It costs me an awful lot of money just for a bottle (1/2 pint) of lager. Oh well.... it's nice to get some alcohol into my system! After leaving the bar, we both feel really knackered and want to go to sleep. We find some comfortable seats upstairs.
I fall asleep. Henry writes his postcards.
Mr. Israel strolls over and says, "Hi!". Henry is freaked. He wanders off.
He returns, and he and Henry have a little chat about how we got here and what we're planning on doing next. He had loads of lifts getting down to Frankfurt and is amazed we only had 2! He walks off again, just as...
Security find us lazing about (me sleeping) suspiciously in the airport. They ask for our air tickets, which of course we don't have, and then tell us we must leave. We get lead outside, along with lots of others, get lined up against a wall and shot dead. No, just joking - we all get put on a minibus. After travelling for 15 or more minutes, we stop. We all get out, and enter a building. It looks like some sort of hostel. I look at some of our "chums" from the minibus, and some of them look pretty rough - homeless types really. Most of the people get sent away to their rooms, which leaves me and Henry stood outside a "hole in the wall", which has some people sat the other side. I am pretty worried and freaked that we are in a hostel for the homeless, but Henry laughs and says he finds it funny. We have to sign a few forms. They ask us where we're from and where we're going etc. They tell us that we have to be out by 8.30 am, and cannot return until 7.30pm every day. I tell them we must catch a plane or train at 6 am, and so won't be staying all night. We get shown to our room. We go upstairs, passing a few people wearing thermal vests and longjohns on our way. We eventually find ourselves in a dormitory with about 6 other people. I ask the man if he will wake us up at 4 am, so we can get back to the airport by 6 am. He says we can get a tram there at around 5 am. We really are behind schedule you see - I'm supposed to be back at work in "Little Chef" on Wednesday morning (9-5 shift), and that leaves just 2 days to get all the way back through France and back to Manchester. We need to get hitching away from here as soon as possible, hence the 4 am start.
The man leaves. We are left with two bunk beds - Henry takes the top one. He doesn't want to go to sleep, he'll just sit there, awake all night. I decide to take the bottom one, but will not undress - sleep fully clothed on top of it. I'm just getting relaxed when I turn to my left and see a horrible, evil teddy bear, with big fangs (that's how it looked to be - Dracula bear!). I throw it up to Henry. I look around the room, and everyone else is sleeping. They all seem to be wearing thermal underwear (hardly surprising really - this is the end of November!). Most of them have bottles of alcoholic drinks, probably German (Aldi!?) lager, next to their beds. I fall asleep.
Get woken up by a man in the hostel. We leave, and on our way we walk through a room with people asleep in it - bizarre! We then ask someone for directions to the tram (Strassenbahn) station. It is very cold indeed. We find the tram stop, buy tickets (2 DM each) from an automatic machine using the very last of Henry's German coins, then wait patiently.
Catch Strassenbahn to Sud-Bahnhof. I try to get money out of a cashpoint, but it won't give me any. After a few attempts, it does. But we need coins to buy train tickets to the Flughafen. I ask for change in a small newsagents in the station, but the woman says she hasn't got any. We decide to risk it and get a train to the Flughafen without tickets. Luckily no-one checks.
We arrive back at the Flughafen. I grab a seat near the luggage storage point and go to sleep. Henry goes exploring: (Henry's account)
"Suddenly it gets very strange. I pass Mr. Israel sleeping on some seats and wander through doors and down corridors. Somehow I end up in a large hall with conveyor belts bringing out people's luggage. This is where people go after leaving their planes. I follow them out through some doors. Into CUSTOMS!!! I stroll casually through the "Nothing To Declare" section (since I have no luggage...) and walk out into a large area with hundreds of people standing around watching. It's almost like being on stage! I am FREAKED! Some of them are holding signs with names on. My "fellow passengers" walk through an opening in the crowd and are joyfully re-united with their friends and relatives. I make my way out and find Howell still asleep on the seats. I rest awhile."
We see flights leaving for Amsterdam, and we consider trying to get cheap, last-minute tickets for one of them - we could then try hitching back to Calais from there (another possible destination could also be Brussels). When it's near the time, we look at the budget ticket offices, but most of the bargain tickets are for holidays, not for just flights.
We pick up our bags from the left luggage office, so I can write some of my postcards, before we set off on our way again. Instead of just carrying our luggage around, Henry comes up with the brilliant idea of getting a trolley for our stuff, and just wheeling it around. Henry shows me how to get the trolley onto the escalator - you tilt it with the front up so that the front wheels of the trolley rest on one escalator step and the back wheels rest on the step below it.
Write 9 postcards to people, find the post office in the airport, then post them and Damian's letter to Lizzi (I was supposed to give it to her personally if we got to Avignon, but that's not possible now).
Finish writing postcards. Sort out my bags, then put loads of layers back on. We decide to go to the "Visitor's Gallery" to watch planes taking off. But it costs 7 DM (2.80 pounds), and there is a guided tour of the airport museum included. We cannot take any luggage in with us, so we'd have to go in one by one, while the other one looks after the luggage. So we wouldn't be able to stay in there long really, so it's not worth it. We give it a miss.
Henry sits with the luggage and dozes, while I go into the "Fluggi Shop" (Airport shop). It's really huge - it runs around the curved inside of the building, above the main airport area. I spend a while looking around, before eventually buying a little silk bag (made of a sheet of beautifully multi-coloured silk), a pack of cards (with "Frankfurt Flughafen" on them), a small plastic aeroplane with "Frankfurt Flughafen" on it and a smiley face, and a huge envelope containing a cardboard fit-it-together model aeroplane. I also pick up a few free leaflets about the airport, which open up into a breathtaking poster of a plane flying above Frankfurt. I finally emerge from the shop after about 30 minutes - I told Henry I wouldn't be long. He's fast asleep, so I wake him up. I tell him I've only been gone 10 minutes. He believes me.
We decide it's now about time we were on our way. We need to get to the "Hauptbahnhof" first, as the father and daughter told us yesterday. We can get the train there from the Flughafen station.
Arrive at "Frankfurt (M) Hauptbahnhof" (The "(M)" signifies that this is "Frankfurt am Main", not the other Frankfurt - there's two of them in Germany). I take a photo of the outside of it. We turn left at the main entrance, and walk for a while. We pass by lots of very high buildings and an amazing 3D mathematical "top" on a bridge going over a little pool of water (with fountains) outside an office block. It looks quite impressive, so I take a photo of it. We keep walking, then see a sign saying that there's a Shell Tankstelle nearby. When we get there, we stand outside it, with signs "Mainz" (which is on the A66 towards Saarbrucken) and "Nachste Tankstelle bitte".
Get picked up by 2 Germans in a well-fit black car. We ask for the next Tankstelle. They're going to the airport. We have trouble at first in making them understand us, but then they decide to take us 2 Tankstellen forward. We wanted them to take us to the last Tankstelle that they pass, not just 2 on, Oh well, better than nothing I suppose... At least we're on the motorway now.
They drop us off 2 Tankstellen onto the motorway - "ARAL" Tankstelle. We try to hitch again.
We get picked up by a man going to Mainz.
I ask him for a Tankstelle on the motorway near Mainz, but he is leaving the motorway here, to go onto a major road. He drops us off here, so we can now make our way back onto the motorway. Thank God I mentioned to him now that we wanted to stay on the motorway, or he would have taken us into the town of Mainz. We are actually in Mainz now, and this major road leads into the town. He naturally thought we were sane people wanting to go into the town, not just stay on the motorway! We hold up "Tankstelle" and "Saarbrucken" signs, by the side of the road leading onto the motorway.
A man picks us up and tells us that to go to Saarbrucken we must be on the A63 road, not the A66. He drives us back into city/town and takes us to a Tankstelle at the entrance of the A643 road (Frankfurt, Mainz and Rudesheim on sign - I went to Rudesheim on a school holiday in 1986 - there's cable-cars and/or a castle there).
Arrive at the Tankstelle.
A van driver says he's going in the direction of Saarbrucken but he can only take one of us with him (to a Gaststatte!). At least we now know we're in the right place.
A woman passes, driving a big car. She smiles and points her thumb to her back set, where there's a big black dog. Cool.
A van with flashing lights and the word "NOTARZT" over it. Henry tries to hitch with a speeding, flashing ambulance. The guy in the passenger's seat seems amused, and plays along.
A man picks us up - he is going to Grunstadt (home). His car is really full up with briefcases and things. This is in the direction of both Saarbrucken and Kaiserslautern. There is a Raststatte near his home - he'll go out of his way, to take us to this place (I think, and hope). He says Wiesbaden is a big city, full of businesses. He tries speaking to us in English, and is ok for a bit, but he gets stuck, and brings out a "Deutsch-Englisch" dictionary. He didn't know the word "Hurt" (English for "Kaputt").
He's a really cheerful old soul. He works with the Japanese firm "Fuji film" - X-ray stuff. All the manuals for equipment etc. are in English - so he must learn it, every day. The radio station he's listening too is called "SWF3". It plays lots of English music, and he says it's the best station in the country. He says it's new, and he's been listening to it for 30 years!?! (30 days maybe? 3 years? Who knows?). The new English charts are on there every week. We can get it all round Europe on Short Wave (SWF3???).
I mention the "Weihnachtsmarkt" we were at in Frankfurt last night. He tells us that Thuringer (Too-ring-er) are long Bratwurst sausages. He tells us Gluhwein and Weihnachtspunch are both quite nice + lethal. He says that all round where we are now (between Mainz and Grunstadt) is mostly vineyards. In Summer, there's lots of work produced by them. Germany is very good for wine.
Loads more English music is played on the radio, and when Phil Collins comes on the radio - "In The Air Tonight", the driver says it's very good music - Phil Collins, Eric Clapton and the The Rolling Stones are all "very good". He starts looking up words in his dictionary again.
He tells us the Gaststatte is just 10 minutes' drive away, and Saarbrucken is now ~ 100 miles away. We pass through a little town called Eisen/Eisenberg, which has lots of its shops well-decorated with Xmas lights and trees. There are loads of lights in the street, and trees too. It's very pretty here. The man works at hospitals all over the area (Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, Saarbrucken), in the doctor's X-ray department.
We pass through lots of narrow, winding, dark roads, then a little town called "Heideleidenheim" (the driver sounds like he's yodelling when he tries to say it - he laughs) which has Christmas trees and lights outside, in people's gardens mostly. All the lights on the trees, and the street lights ARE ALL WHITE. Henry says that the man was driving ~ 180 km/h most of the way, passing cars like they are not moving.
Arrive at "Bundes-Autobahnraststatte Wattenheim", on the way to Saarbrucken. We notice that two of the nearby towns are called "Carlsberg" and "Frankenstein". There's a motel, petrol station and a shop here. We go into the motel's restaurant. We look at the menu. There's some very tasty meals in there. I buy a 5 cl bottle of "Eichbaum Export Altgold" lager - I can't afford to buy food. It's brewed in Mannheim, which is in the same direction as Saarbrucken. Henry buys a meal: "2 Bratwurste mit Pommes Frites + Salat, und ein Coca-Cola". I watch him eat it. At the end, she comes over and gives us bills. We pay her and she gives us change out of her hefty purse.
 Howell with his Saarbrucken sign |
We start hitching here with "Saarbrucken" and "Nachste Tankstelle" signs. We try standing outside, in the lobby, just outside the shop, and even in the shop at one point I believe. I buy a few different packets of sweets in the shop, and I am tempted to buy myself a hat to keep my head warm, but they are mainly just caps and are quite expensive. It's so incredibly cold outside, so we spend most of the time loitering around the lobby, hassling people who are passing through. There's some cheesy music playing, and you can even hear it in the toilets.
After trying to hitch from the lobby and failing we walk down to the exit onto the motorway to catch cars leaving the service area. We put our bags on a rock. Eventually we give up and return to the shop area and hassle drivers again.
We get a lift with an old man in a Mercedes. Just before we got this lift, another German told us that we should not only try people at the Tankstelle and Raststatte exits, but also down the road, where a road from Eisenberg and Gollheim emerges onto the Saarbrucken motorway. But then, this man arrived and we asked him for a lift. He seemed very cold and wary of us - then he went into the shop saying something like, "I'll be back." We didn't know if he'd take us or not - he seemed very cold, yet said something to sort of indicate he might take us with him. When he came back out, he beckoned us to his car.
One of the first things he says to us is, "It is a very dangerous night". We were thinking, "ERG!! - creepy guy". He then says, "The roads are very icy. You must be responsible. If there is an accident, it is your risk." We both nod solemnly. He's got a little Scottish terrier dog with him, called Pepe. The dog is jumping all over the place when we get into the car, and he's coughing and spluttering a lot. Henry sits in the front with the old guy, and I sit in the back with the dog. I talk to Harald in English at first, but then he talks continuously in German. Considering I have barely used my German for 5 and a half years, I understand him fairly well. I get the gist of what he is talking about, and I manage to make myself understood. He says that when he was younger he used to do lots of hitch-hiking - around Africa at one point. He says he thinks it's a very good thing to do.
Arrive at "Waldmoor" Raststatte. We don't understand if he's leaving us here, or if we're just having a break here with him, and then carrying on travelling with him. We get out, and leave our stuff in the car, so it looks like we will be carrying on with him. The man gives the dog's lead to Henry, and Henry goes wandering around the car park with the dog, on a retractible lead. The man has a smoke.
We all go back to the car. The man and the dog, Pepe, get in. He gives the dog a bowl of water. He motions for us to get in, so we sit down. I carry on talking to him in German about various things. He tells us it will rain tomorrow (Tuesday) and Wednesday, and he hopes we have a umbrella. We see a sign saying "Grenze 16" (Border - French - 16 km away).
We get to the "Goldene Bremm" Raststatte. We give Harald our addresses, and he gives us his. He goes into the restaurant and gets a table cleared for us. We shake hands with him, he wishes us good luck, good health and hopes we find a car to get to France. We go into the restaurant. The counter looks something like a takeaway "McDonald's"-style counter, with pictures and prices of the food above the counter, on the wall. I buy a "Rindwurst" sausage (tastes of bacon - mmm) for 3.90 DM, and I use up the last of my German money on a Snickers bar. There are a few customers here. We ask if they're going to Metz (first big French town over the border), but they all claim not to be going that way!
By the way, the German/French border is IN THE SERVICE STATION'S GROUNDS - there's traffic lights and flashing lights out there. The motorway passes by just outside too, with no barriers or anything to separate it from the service station. It's just a normal two lane road - I can just casually walk out of the restaurant and onto the motorway if I so wish.
We wander outside, and ask customers at the petrol station and customers in their lorries/cars passing through (by holding up our signs) if they're going to Metz. They all say "No." The cold is really biting into us. It seems hopeless, so we go back inside, with the intention of just asking all restaurant customers if they're going to Metz. They all say, "No." We decide to play cards with the pack of cards I bought at Frankfurt airport ("Fluggi Shop") yesterday. However, to my surprise, there are only 32 cards in the deck!
I keep falling asleep, and Henry says the customers keep looking at us.
We leave, go under the subway, and go to the Rasthof on the other side of the road. There's toilets on the ground floor and there's a restaurant upstairs. We go to the restaurant. I buy a bottle of chocolate milkshake, and since I've used all my German money, I use French money (since we're on the France/Germany border. But, since the Rasthof is on the side of customers who are going to Germany, I get my change in German money!! Argh!!! I'll have to spend it on the other side now, and get my change in French money, to spend in France. It's weird! We sit there, in the corner, where the serving bloke can't see us. I fall asleep.
We leave for the other side again.
We arrive at the first side again.
I have a go of the cuddly toy grabber machine in the foyer of the Raststatte. I usually never win anything on these machines, but now, to my surprise, on my first go, a RACCOON comes out. I call him Wolfgang. I have another go, and win nothing.
It's ridiculous - we've been here nearly 9 hours now. Henry has his head down on the table, and I'm doing the log. It's funny - about an hour ago we both kept drifting off into slumberland. My eyes would just droop, and I'd be gone. Henry would be talking to me, and he'd witness me "just drift away". Quite funny really. A while back, I went out and took photos outside of this place and the surrounding area, since we've spent so much time here.
I phone up Lizzi in France. I say, "It's Howell", and that freaks her out. She says, "Oh?" I tell her about our bad luck, and that we're currently stuck on the France / Germany border. She is getting ready to go to work at the school. I buy myself a bottle of lager. It's quite cheap, and very nice.
 Howell and the car... |
Get a lift with an Austrian man who's going to Paris. It's very hard to get him to understand us. We enter France at last. Sign "Metz 61". He may be going to Reims too - we don't know, it's hard to get through to him (we need to go via Reims on our way back to Calais). He has been driving for 1500 km, without any sleep. He is going to Reims, but I cannot make him understand me - he thinks we want to go to Paris with him. He is a real loony driver - very fast, and he dodges in and out of cars. I am not wearing a seat-belt - he told me not to! Between 10.50 and 10.56, we see signs for "Walibi Schl."(A Smurf theme park is nearby!) - one with a picture of Papa Smurf and another with a picture of Smurfette.
Sign "Reims 174, Paris 313". He has trouble at a toll gate. He is supposed to take a ticket which appears from a slit there, but one doesn't appear. He tries driving back and forth into other lanes of the motorway, and then up to the toll gate there, but still no ticket appears. Eventually, one appears, and he takes it.
Strange multi-coloured (mostly cloudy green on yellow) geometrical shapes start appearing at regular intervals on the grass at the right hand side of the road, including spheres/balls, pyramids, discs, cubes and poles. Or am I just hallucinating? I knew I shouldn't have had that beer in Saarbrucken. It starts to hailstone very heavily. Our driver puts the windscreen wipers on, heaters etc. and stops the car in a big lay-by with lots of trees around, to de-ice the windscreen. He pours de-icer all over the windscreen and over the wipers, and then pulls them away from the windscreen repeatedly and lets them fall back to the windscreen.
Sign "Reims 42". By speaking a combination of French and German, I manage to let the man know that we want to go to a service-station near Reims.
Arrive at "Aire des Gueux" services, near Reims. We worry that we may have missed the Calais, Lille etc. turn-off. We go into the service-station - there's a small cafe part and a shop (the cafe is in the left-hand side of the shop). I ask some people in the shop, and they tell us that the only place we can go to now by going straight on is Paris. We'd have to go to Calais via Paris, which could take ages because the traffic is very slow in and around Paris. Oh dear... It's starting to snow here, there's a quite visible thin covering of snow on the ground. I take some photos.
I ask a woman in an "Outlook" van if she is going in the direction of Paris. She says, "Oui". I say, "Are you going to Paris?" She says, "Yes." She works for a fashion company. We put our stuff in the back of her van, then go into the service station with her while she buys a coffee. We tell her that we've missed our "Calais" turn-off, and so must now go to Paris before Calais. A catering assistant, in the cafe part says there is another service station just 200m away, on the other side of the motorway, and we should hitch from there to retrace our steps, and so get to Calais or Lille.
 The "opposite" service-station |
The French woman who was going to give us a lift to Paris gives us a lift North 200m so that we're at the opposite side of the motorway to the southbound service-station.
She drops us off. We get our stuff, say bye and thanks. We cross over the motorway, then walk down some grass to the service station.
Arrive at the opposite service-station. We need to hitch back to the next South bound service-station, which is before the junction for Calais and Lille. Henry remembers there being a Northbound service station just opposite it, so all we have to do is then cross over, to go North towards Calais again. I ask the manager of the service-station if the next service-station does have a Northbound service-station opposite it, just to make sure - otherwise there'd be no point going to it. He confirms that there is one.
Get a lift to the next service-station on the Southern side of the motorway. It's with an English couple in a BMW car. They don't talk at all. They're listening to the BBC World Service. As we travel along, the snow is beating down, and the traffic flow is slow. They have a "L" sticker on their car (probably for "Luxembourg"). When we get to a toll gate, the driver asks, "Would you like to get out here, or at the petrol station?" It's hammering down with snow outside!! What a plonker! We have a chat with his wife, about the stresses of hitch-hiking and the weather etc.
 The service station from the bridge |
We get dropped off at "Aire de Reims / de Champagne" service-station. The town of Champagne is in the Reims area. We say bye, and the woman wishes us luck. Henry takes a photo of the car. We cross over a bridge, take photos from it, take a photo of me in the snow, then arrive at the Northbound side of the service-station, where the restaurant is. There is a thick layer of snow on the ground, and it's coming down heavily. It's a big building, containing a restaurant and some shops, called 'Le Relais Reims - Champagne'.
Arrive inside. We go round hassling lorry and car drivers, but no success. A man tells us this is certainly the right "ligne" (direction) for going to Calais and Lille. We decide to hassle them inside the restaurant instead. Henry buys a meal. I'm sat there, when all of a sudden I look at the wall and see a sign saying "FORTE restaurants" (I'm haunted by reminders of "Little Chef" wherever I go). I find out from one of the staff that the lorry drivers mainly come here at 7.30 pm / 8 pm for their meal and to watch TV.
We'll just laze around for a bit now. I phone up Matthew at "Little Chef" to tell him I can't make it into work in Manchester tomorrow morning - "I'm stuck in a blizzard near Paris". This made him laugh - and he said he'd sort it out for me, there'll be no problem. I buy some postcards, write them and post them. We look in the shop, and see lots of magazines, souvenirs, and very expensive boxed sets of Champagne (made here in Reims) with glasses. We wander around the lorries outside, asking people where they're going, but no luck. When we
 Howell in the snow |
Find a lorry driver who can drop us off near Calais, before he turns off.
Arrive at a small petrol station by the side of the motorway, called "L'Aire Du Rumaucourt". We're 50 / 60 km from Calais now. It's a deserted old petrol station in the middle of nowhere. We stand almost on the motorway, trying to entice drivers off the motorway. Not many lorries go past, and when they do, they ignore our "Calais" sign. It makes us wonder if we really are on the right motorway! All that's here is some toilets, some petrol pumps and loads of parking space behind the toilets (amongst lots of bushes and trees). The petrol pumps here are self-service (there's no manned "station" here as such) and take payment by VISA card. One of them has a video camera attached to it, and a small TV screen, and you can pay by cheque or cash at this one. I walk right up to it to have a closer look, and I must be in view of the man on the other side; to my surprise, I see his face appear on the screen, and he says, "Oui?" I just say, "Nous sommes les auto-stoppeurs - je m'excuse." At one point I cross over the motorway, to have a look in the shop over there. There's a take-away place there, where you can sit on stools and eat burgers etc. I buy a bottle of orangeade, then run back across the motorway with it. It's very dangerous actually, as there's lots of icy patches on the ground (in both petrol-stations and on the motorway). Also, the central reservation has loads of thick branches and bushes growing everywhere - it could have been quite painful getting through it.
A few lorries pass through where we are, but just ignore us, either passing straight through, or parking for the night.
Give up for tonight, and decide to go to sleep. We crash out on the hard floor-tiles in the disabled toilet. There's a dim light in here, and there's pipes under the floor, making it very hot lying on the floor - quite handy really! A few people arrive outside at first, and I go out and hassle them. But they are not going to Calais. We fall asleep.
Wake up, then go out and hassle lorries parked here. Henry wakes up about 1/2 hour later - he tells me he was awake most of the night because of my horrendous snoring. He said that room we were in makes sounds echo, and all he could hear all night was my snoring echoing and drilling into his brain. He said it's not as if he could go somewhere else to sleep - there was nowhere else to go. Sounds quite bad really.
Most of the lorries are going to Arras, since it's just 10 km away (next exit from the motorway). Some lorries and cars pass through.
We see the lorry driver of the "Friedrich Schulbach" lorry that was leaving Reims at 7 am this morning (we hassled him at the service station last night, and he told us he'd be leaving for Calais at 7 am). He says he can only take one of us with him. We refuse.
We decide that, if a place for one person is available, we should take it, and meet up in Calais. Otherwise, we could be here for absolutely ages.
We find a lorry driver going to Calais, who can take one person.
 Howell gets a lift |
We leave the petrol station first. Henry's lorry is still there - his driver is out of the cab - getting petrol. My driver is an Irish man. He's really jolly and a good laugh. He's just driven back from Moscow, down through Berlin, and through Germany, Italy (I think) and France. He delivered documents to Moscow, and he's now got a lorry load of apples from the South of France. He's off to London, to see where he's going next. He's away from home (in Ireland) for 6 weeks at a time, then he has a week off. By the time the week's over, he's itching to get back on the road. He's got a CB in his cab, as well as a phone and a radio. He regularly gives messages to and gets messages from Englishmen (with strong London accents, and one with a Cornish accent) on his CB. He tells them that road conditions in Reims (he pronounces it, "Reems") are treacherous.
Sign "Calais 70".
Sign "Calais 41".
Sign "Calais 27".
We arrive at an I.D.S. (International Diesel Service) filling station, right near Calais docks.
We head for the port. We pass a cheap alcohol cash and carry warehouse ("Eastenders Cash and Carry Beer and Wine Warehouse") near the ferry port. Loads of cars and trucks are buying crates, and pallets (!), of booze. I notice a huge pallet of crates of "Uberland" lager there. Cool!
We arrive in the lorry car park in the port.
I leave the cab, say thanks and bye.
I arrive inside the travel centre place, and sit in the waiting area. No sign of Henry. There's loads of Christmas decorations up here now!
Henry turns up. Henry needs to get the 12 pm ferry, so he can get back home ok tonight - he has to catch at least 4 or 5 trains, from Dover to Sandhurst. I really want to look around Calais, and buy some crepes in a creperie or restaurant, but we've got a joint ticket (2 people on 1 ticket), so we must travel together. I buy 5 postcards, crisps, a chocolate bar, chocolate sandwich biscuits, then we run for the check-in, passport barriers then the shuttle bus for the ferry.
Arrive on the "Pride of Kent" ferry, in the bar of course.
Ferry leaves Calais - very misty. Neither Henry or I can find our way out to the deck.
I go upstairs to wait outside the "Commercial Drivers" restaurant, for the lorry drivers to leave (they all go there for food when they arrive on the ferry). I sit there, writing the log, and whenever a driver leaves, I hassle him (in French first, then English, then German!
I go back downstairs. I go round everyone and find a group of Scousers who have been to Calais to get a vanful of booze. They'll be driving (in a car and a hired van) back up to Liverpool, and say they can drop me off near Manchester. I have to meet them outside the "Beaufort Hotel" - the 3rd hotel I'll come across, just up the road from the port. I buy a pint of bitter from the bar (it might be John Smith's or Webster's), and it only costs 1.15 pounds! Henry and I spend a while cross-referencing each other's logs, but we don't have time to get the whole lot sorted.
Ferry arrives at Dover.
Leave ferry. Get on shuttle bus.
Leave Dover port. We head off to the "Beaufort Hotel".
We arrive outside "Beaufort House" - Bed and Breakfast, Bar & Restaurant (17 pounds per person B & B). One of the Scousers beckons to me. I say bye to Henry, as he heads off to get his trains home from Dover, and say, "Good journey!"