I made great time down the whole of England, with the exception of the last 20 miles that I spent in bumper to bumper re-routing due to impressive amounts of roadworks. One of the perks of painfully crawling around in first gear was that the detour took all us holiday-makers and professional drivers by Dover Castle. It is a wel-known fact that CASTLES ARE COOL!
Thus far, these white cliffs prove to always “liven” my commute to the continent. This time a glitch in the computer has registered my trailer as part of the reservation (on which there are 2 boats and 12 masts). As usual, French customs stamps you through without lifting their gaze in your direction. I think they assume that no one would ever want to immigrate to France unless they were French – culture outmoding the necessity of border patrol.
At the ticket gate, I am waved aside to check with the ticket agency just there, and see a guy named “Rich”. I pull up and park on the far edge of the lot and as I’m scuttling to the office one 18 wheeler rams into the back of another. Shouts erupt. In the office I explain the trailer situation etc as Rich clacks away on the keyboard, “ah yes! you’re the boat-lady!”
Yes, that would be me. I told him if I got stuck one more time getting through I was going to be very suspicious, I think you just want to see me. The office had a laugh.
Allons-y! It was a clear day and the wind was perfect. You could see France from the onset and I thought, why am I not sailing to France? Instead I’m on a boat, in a car, towing boats – at which point I thought how much I’d like to place a toy car on my boat. Which is of course easier than putting the ferry on the back of a truck.
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