The Plopsatrip

[Cathryn]

This summer, my lovely giant son did his GCSEs. He finished his exams in mid June, a full month before I finished my teaching year so he and his dad went off on a 2-week trip around the theme parks of England. My rollercoaster-obsessed child dragged his poor father on various horrifying rides and they returned home having had a wonderful time together. But I wanted some time with my boy all to myself. So just before school started again for us both, right at the end of August, a whisper before the end of the summer holidays, we set off on our adventure.

The plan was to get the ferry to Calais and then ride 40 miles north, just over the border into Belgium. We’d camp outside de Panne and then the next day, we’d go to Plopsaland. Plopsaland is a theme park aimed mainly at olderkids but it has one spectacular coaster, the Ride to Happiness that my son was dying to ride! Plopsaland is a cracking name and lent itself as a prefix for everything. This was our Plopsatrip. We’d go on a Plopsaferry and ride Plopsabikes. You get the drift!

Sunday afternoon saw us load up the bikes into the car and drive the three hours from Wiltshire to Dover. We stocked up on meal deals and stayed at the Premier Inn, a mile or so from the ferry port, and hunkered down in our hotel room ready for adventure.

 

[Cathryn]

Monday!

It was an early start! Our ferry was at 8am. We needed to be there for 7…and the Premier Inn breakfast buffet opened at 6.30. But somehow we were there as they opened the door and by 6.50 we’d filled our bellies on sausages and hash browns (him) and yoghurt, berries and Alpen (me). By 7am, we were riding our heavily laden bikes along the seafront and by 7.15 we were checked in and queueing. I say heavily laden because we were camping, the first time we have cycle-camped…our summer trips involve budget hotels and airbnbs. We don’t have a lightweight tent and, when you added in sleeping stuff and cooking stuff, our bikes felt really heavy! But we were giddy in excitement! There were only a few cyclists on the ferry. Us and a very cool young couple riding to Amsterdam. They were friendly and chatty so I enjoyed speaking to them whilst Pog died of mortification behind me!



The ferry ride was easy and before we knew it, all four of us were following the little white van out of Calais port onto the quiet roads. Our friends waved goodbye and whizzed off and we followed at a happier pace. The riding all day was flat. Fields stretched off around us, we could see for miles. We also spent all day riding into a fairly brutal headwind so it wasn’t easy but we made decent time as we rode past the art deco Calais airport heading north. Somehow we spent the day playing tag with our ferry friends…we’d pass them, they’d pass us, we’d pass them etc. It was nice and always fun to see them waving as we met up again.







Grand Fort Philippe was interesting, a town which stretched along a navigation canal. The little ferry was closed for the season so we had to ride all along it which added a kilometre but meant we got to stop at a Lidl and get lunch supplies. From there we rode on, often on bike paths but otherwise on quiet roads. The landscape wasn’t exciting but just being with my son was a gift so I was very happy.



Outside GrandeSynthe we rode past the encampments where migrants waited for little boats to try and get them to Britain. Hundreds of people were walking up and down the road towards the Auchan supermarket, they either ignored us or said hello as we greeted them. To the side, grim looking tents and tarpaulins filled the trees. No matter your politics, people deserve better than this and I’ve thought a lot about them in the following weeks, especially the women, young girls and children. It was sobering stuff.

From there we rode through Dunkirk, easy to navigate on bike paths and finally to the seafront where we pushed our bikes through the crowds and the headwind.



The final stretch went through the dunes and we saw our friends one last time. And then finally we were at the Belgian border. This is where Pog saw Ride to Happiness for the first time and he was indeed very happy and excited.



Our campsite, Kindervreugde, was lovely. Small tents had a little field to the side and we had it entirely to ourselves both nights. We set up our tent (D of E had turned my son into a camping expert) and then rode our bikes to the seafront in de Panne for frites. Snuggling down in the tent with my favourite child was an absolute joy, even if he strongly resisted my attempts at snuggling! Swine!

 

[Cathryn]

Tuesday

Plopsaday. Because this wasn’t a cycling day, I’ll be more brief but it was a fantastic day. My son was remarkably keen to get up and out in the morning, his usual sleepy slowness replaced by lots of ‘Come along Mothers’ to chivvy me into getting there. We walked the half mile to the Plopsa-entrance and got an absolutely brilliant breakfast at The Food Stop. We were in the line for Plopsaland as it opened. My son briefed me on where to meet him and, as soon as the gates opened, bolted on giant legs to Ride to Happiness.





We spent the day having a lot of fun. He rode that horrific rollercoaster 8 times. I went on two different coasters and a water ride (I was very brave indeed) and spent many hours sat in the shade reading a book. I read an entire book. I was very happy sat reading whilst my son dashed between rides, coming to check up on me with an enormous smile. I did go on a super tall swing thing and was very proud of myself.



We were jn the park from 10am until they literally kicked us out at 7.30! We got surprisingly excellent supermarket picnic food and went back to our little tent for the night!

 

[Cathryn]

Wednesday

What a night! We had a thunderstorm in the night and I lay awake worrying that the tent would leak (it didn’t) or we’d be struck by lightning (we weren’t). Should we have moved into the shower block? (probably). In any case we survived and were up early to take down our tent, load the bikes and set off by 7am for the 40-odd miles back. We wanted to allow plenty of time so we weren’t stressed and had enough time for a puncture.



We retraced our route almost exactly which was actually quite nice, recognising places from the other day. We made excellent time and had a lovely day riding. We were actually on track to get the earlier ferry but Pog punctured three miles from the port, on the outskirts of Calais. He took his own sweet time to thoroughly (oh so thoroughly) fix it whilst I chatted to a lady and her dog and finally we were at the port.







Then began the worst bit of the whole trip. We had to wait with all the cars in the blazing sunshine for over an hour as we all inched along. My honest son refused to ride through the traffic so we just waited and waited and waited and got hotter and hotter and the clock ticked closer and closer to our departure time. In the end, I had to insist and we wove through the traffic, just getting onto the ferry in time. It was grim and quite stressful and we were sweaty and wound up when we finally got in the ferry! So I handed over my credit card and booked us into the premier lounge which was WONDERFUL. The quietness, combined with food and drinks, worked its magic so we were chilled and happy to ride off the ferry into sunny England, back to the car and head back to Dad and the cats.



It was a short adventure but honestly it was super precious. Having my boy all to myself was a joy that I won’t forget. I learned how grown up he is, how capable and independent. I will never forget these three days on bikes with my boy!

 

[Sharky]

Brilliant

 

[Drago]

Lordy! He is indeed a giant. Even Id have to look up to greet him!

Mind you, Mini D #4 is only 15 and towers over her mum.

 

[The Crofted Crest]

As usual, an excellent write up, Cathryn.
I've ridden past Plopsaland three times this year. And you're right about the heart breaking refugee camps in northern France.