All the best holidays start with ferry crossings; there's nothing like a spot of wave-watching to put you in the right mood, and I'm glad to live on an island. This journey was smooth and short, and we rolled out into bright sunshine to be met by John and Jeanette of Bike Normandy. After a briefing on French road signs, we rode to Pegasus Bridge for coffee:
I loved seeing the bridge, having admired the scale model at the Royal Signals Museum on several occasions, and it was even kind enough to go up and down for our delight. The ten-minute potter from the port reassured me that I'd be able to keep up with the group and that my riding wasn't noticeably dangerous, and I enjoyed the rest of the day save one moment when I forgot which way traffic goes on the Continent and looked the wrong one at a junction, crossing oblivious of a car coming at me. I hoped that such blinding stupidity, on the very first day, right in front of everyone, would meet my dumb quota for the week and I wouldn't have to worry about doing anything else awful. We shall see.
cybersofa's account is much better on how the roads were; I just remember the joy of being out in a group and the responsibility attached to marking a junction for following riders. It all ensured enough to talk about when we arrived at the B&B for dinner, squeaky toy throwing for two bouncy springers, and drink including cider made on the premises. I'm usually the only cider drinker in a group, but the home brew was so good that I had to share. Luckily there was a whole cellarful.
Next day >