Part one of my write-up....
I haven't managed to write the promised proper report from LonJOG yet, so I decided to get this year's report done before dusting the cobwebs off that thread, whenever I cease procrastinating about that.
First, a disclaimer. This was not, nor could not be, The Best Holiday I've Ever Had. LonJOG had a cameo appearance from my best mate, her lovely husband and their lovely dogs, and the opportunity to drag a few personal demons from a ride in 2011 (I may just have mentioned it umpteen times) out from their dungeon and give 'em a darn good kicking, before chucking them back in again. Compared to that, the opportunity to not visit John O' Groats and not ride on the Road of Death (aka the A9 just north of Inverness) pales ever so slightly in comparison. So, for me, the best this could be was The Best Holiday I've Ever Had Apart From That One. Which to put it mildly, still leaves much room for it to be very, very, very good indeed, and it certainly was, on both counts.
Saturday. First off, thanks to Brittany Ferries helpfully altering their Cherbourg services to accomodate a Le Havre route, the booked 9am departure became a 4pm one. I had packed the Very Big Rucksack during the week, and (just in time) got the Viner back from a comprehensive service on Friday morning. This led self and a few others with time to kill. Hmmm. I have a few hours to kill. I have a bike (well, I have four...). I have no problems getting to the ferry port that's a mile and a half from this sofa. Friends in town with a similar predicament. It's social ride o'clock! On account of certain possible attendees needing/wanting a lie-in, it was a small but perfectly formed peloton than joined me for a tour of the delights (yes, there are some, really) of my home town. Got Portsdown Hill out of the way first- it's a tricksy little devil if you're not used to it, but it's the best place to get an overview (in multiple senses) of the city. The view is a corker, and if anyone had needed an urgent caffeine dose, Mick's Burger Van was nearby. After a rather more rapid descent we went down to the Hard via the best kind of eyesore, an invisible one (a car park, the site of the unlovely Tricorn Centre). Along the front for the tea stop par excellence that is the cafe at Southsea Castle, and then, as time was pressing ever so slightly, back to my place to drop the bikes off before lunch & booze at the handily located Star & Garter pub (I was not exaggerating when I said about ninety seconds staggering distance), along with those who'd had a lie in. After that, a short pootle to the Continental Ferry Port with just enough time in hand for check-in (my own comedy loss of boarding card, reprinting of boarding card, then finding Sonia had found the first one notwithstanding).
More of our number had made their way separately to the Normandie Express, along with a few others, so the 'bike niche' on the car deck was well filled. Have to say that on both outward and return legs, I thought the port and ferry staff were very helpful and efficient. We were onboard (and off again) with no bother at all, no need to wait for all the cars either embarking or disembarking. The crossing itself was an experience. The movement of the catamaran even in calmer conditions meant that walking around entailed good balance, making use of the handrails, walls etc to get around without falling over. And the calmer conditions didn't last that long- once we were out of the lee of the Isle of Wight and into open water, it became somewhat 'bouncy'. As in 'waves crashing over the windows'. More than a few passengers were suffering. I don't usually get seasick, but I thought a full meal in those conditions was asking for trouble. When it was quieter for a bit I got a muffin and a cup of tea and left it at that.
Nonetheless, we arrived in Cherbourg bang on schedule. We rapidly departed the port (my group at least went straight through the border check, didn't need to get my passport out at all) to meet up with Simon and drop our bags off with Oliver, one of the chateau owners' sons, who drove them all there for a very reasonable fee. An hour or so's gentle ride later, those of us staying at the chateau were at our home for the week. A huge plate or two of pasta and much nattering later, and it was time for bed.