At last. France bound on the ferry, our journey takes us from Portsmouth to Le Havre, a short drive away from our intended destination of Honfleur.
And what an odd trip it is. Post Brexit, rules have changed and security is tight. Where once we could move freely with a fridge full of goods, there are new restrictions on transit of alcohol, meat, cheese and other dairy products. Himself is horrified. Fuck, says he. What if they take my Vegemite? (Already traumaticly confiscated once at the airport). Not a meat product, says I, yeast extract. Still, he looks very fidgety and is risking a full vehicle if not cavity search. A master criminal he’s clearly not. Thankfully.
As we inch closer several vehicles are pulled aside and sniffer dogs are put to the task at hand. This new development gives me pause for thought. Post Brexit are UK/EU feelings running so high that sniffer dogs are now brought in to look for cheese and other dairy contraband? Surely not. It’s not until we’re closer that we see the search also includes under vehicle mirrors and cameras – not cheese then, bombs. I’m not sure that makes me feel better or worse. Being a motorhome, we get the full search, no dogs though, and pass with a clean bill of health.
This journey differs from those past. These ferries are usually packed – the queue to get on board usually snakes around the dock and there’s always a race to the best seats on the upper decks. It wasn’t unusual for people to stand for the whole crossing. Our line up queue is tiny – one bay of vehicles only and barely 50 passengers on board. We settle in for what becomes a very smooth crossing.
With a steady chant of stay on the right, stay on the right, Himself launches us into the French countryside and we’re off. Le Havre has seen some development since we were here last – new shopping centres and much busier than before.
It’s not long before we’re in Honfleur, and just as well. It’s heaving with motorhomes and river cruise boats – we learn later that’s it’s a long weekend in celebration of Europe’s VE Day. As we settle in, we can see unlucky stragglers being turned away at the gate. It’s a tough blow – there’s nowhere else to stay in Honfleur with a motorhome. Our new Swedish neighbours fill us in on the weekend and their travels.
Honfleur is a favourite end of journey stop, I’ve blogged about it many times so I won’t repeat myself other than to say it hasn’t lost any of its charm. We explore old haunts and visit the ancient church. The weather a balmy 23 degrees, after the cold and rain it’s a welcome relief.
Himself has ruled that we deserve a nice lunch after all that trauma and that’s just what we do. One is spoilt for choice in Honfleur and we settle just to the side of the harbour with lobster fresh off the fishing boats for me and a regional dish of pork in calvados, cream and mushrooms for Himself, served with what are arguably the best potatoes I’ve ever tasted. Thinly sliced, fried in duck fat then tossed in a pesto of fresh garlic and herbs. Oh. My. God. With a relaxing vino or two, it’s a very easy way to lean into the afternoon.
The following day we widen our travels through the “newer” parts of Honfleur where the majority of locals live. We find the old laveri, where women once gathered to do laundry and another gorgeous old church.
We spot a French Rosie (our very loved Aussie Shepherd furry niece) – and then many more. A popular local choice it seems along with sausage dogs and pom-poms. Lots of furry friends to be made.
Having explored far and wide, Himself declares another lunch is called for. He loves going out for lunch, Himself does. Never quite as happy as when he’s lunching in a nice spot. And so another afternoon whiles away in peaceful repose.
Honfleur empties around us as the day passes, the river cruise boats are gone, many of the motorhomes too. It’s a welcome quieter pace. Time for us to hit the road tomorrow too, to hitherto yet unknown and undecided destinations.
Miss Baci Travels 