Well it was inevitable, it’s our last full day in France. Our coastal meandering ends in Calais. It’s been over a decade since we were here last, on our first crossing to France. How fitting that it’s also our last.
The day’s plan was simple: arrive in the morning, have a last delicious lunch, see the Calais dragon, a new addition since our last visit, and enjoy the local sights.
Am I surprised that it doesn’t go to plan? It’s hard to say at this point – perhaps the universe is trying to distract me from how sad I am to be leaving.
The morning disappears first. Himself needs to wash the motorhome before we leave as England still has hosepipe bans. Reasonable, but when we pull into the carwash, the reversing camera screen refuses to close. Stuck halfway through the process, no amount of persuasion can move it one way or the other. Right. I check fuses, try a soft reboot, a hard reboot, cleaning the mechanicical gears and the final Hail Mary, silicone spray. Nada. It still works, i.e., has feed from the rear camera, but it stays resolutely stuck. Not best pleased. I do not appreciate being thwarted by machinery. Worst of all, its position compromises lowering the front bed – so that’s a new problem to deal with.
It’s mid afternoon by the time we arrive in Calais and set out to explore. Lunch plans are set aside for dinner.
Dragon first. I’ve seen video on line and he’s magnificent, a mechanical wonder that extends and flaps enormous leather wings, breaths fire and you can even ride on his back. I’m in! Expect that I’m not. We get there only to discover that he’s been dismantled for maintenance and won’t reappear until late October. Disappointed doesn’t begin to cover it.
Instead of this magnificent beast (picture borrowed from the interwebs):
we see a sad shell in bits. *Sigh*. My disappointment is as keen as a toddler’s – I really wanted to see that dragon breathe fire and I really, really wanted to ride on its back.
Instead we hike back into town to locate a restaurant we dined at on our last visit. Delicious and worth revisiting. Success! It’s there, with a divine menu, it’s even been awarded a Michelin star…but it’s closed Mondays. It turns out that most of the restaurants are closed – or (sensibly) only open later. We need a relatively early meal as neither of us relish walking home in the dark.
It’s a hat trick of disappointments and moods are low, both Himself’s and mine. I can feel a temple pulsing just writing about it.
So, sight seeing it is. Let’s see how that goes.
We see Fort Risban, first referred to in 1346 records when England’s king, Edward III erected a wooden fort to prevent supplies reaching Calais by sea. Unable to conquer Calais by other means, he was going to starve the town into submission. He sounds like a charmer doesn’t he? Under subsequent English occupation the wooden tower was replaced with a stone structure and renamed Lancaster Tower in the 15th century. The fort was altered many times across the following centuries only to be dismantled entirely in 1908 and then re-fortified during WWII.
There’s the 37 metre Tour de Guet. Its early origins are a bit of a mystery, possibly part of a defence system created in 1224. Following a two year siege, it was from this tower that the governor of Calais announced the conditions set for the surrender of the town to England in 1347. Sadly, it looks as if Edward’s plan to starve Calais’ inhabitants worked. In 1580 an earthquake split the tower down its middle, one half completely destroyed. Then in 1696, an English cannon ball opened a large breach in one of the Tower walls. Despite everything, it survived heavy bombing in WWII and has been used as a military pigeon loft, an optical telegraphic system and a lighthouse. A true survivor.
I manage to capture a reflective photo later in the day that I’m quite happy with. I do love a reflective photograph and will patiently stalk the perfect moment.
Last on our tour is the neo-Flemish Mairie de Calais built between 1911 – 1925, just because it’s lovely and a favourite. Its 75 metre belfry is a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site. I also learn of the last gruesome act in Edward III’s conquer of Calais – after the town surrendered, six dignitaries were executed by hanging to save the rest of the town from slaughter. Appalling behaviour, but what would you expect from a ruler who was prepared to starve people into submission.
Sightseeing accomplished, we settle for drinks in the square and sadly, a decidedly average meal. My chicken escalopes in a mushroom cream sauce are nice enough, if far too creamy, but the beans are frozen – unforgivable. And it’s an oddly large serve.
Himself’s cod is delicious, encased in a paper thin cornflour batter but why it’s accompanied by a mountain of chips and a mystery orange sauce is questionable.
At least the sunset on the way home was gorgeous, but it wasn’t quite the lovely last day I had hoped for.
The following morning we head to the ferry terminal for a thankfully short and still crossing.
The customs and immigration process is always interesting – when the UK was part of the EU, documentation was barely glanced at. During the height of the illegal immigrant crisis, the motorhome was thoroughly searched at both borders, inside and out. Post Brexit, double dipped bureaucracy applied – two full sets of documentation checks and inspections, and a swag of new rules about food and alcohol crossing borders. Today it’s a only a quick passport check, no inspections. Protocol it seems, is an evolving game.
It’s not long before the white cliffs of Dover come into view and with a steady chant of ‘stay on the left’ Himself drives us off the ferry and into the last part of this year’s adventure.
I’ve found a workshop that might be able to help with the reversing camera screen so it’s our first destination. We sail past Canterbury and its lovely ruins and tempting fortifications but we’re on a mission and don’t stop.
A nice man listens to my tale of woe and promptly performs the same tests I did. He reaches the same conclusion – not the fuse or the software, the movement gears are stuck. He has an additional trick up his sleeve though, the right tool to remove the screen the dash and in doing so, reinstate our ability to lower the front bed. Himself will need to deal with the problem at motorhome hand over, but as Scarlett would say, I’ll think about that tomorrow.
In the nesting we’ve found a lovely country pub for a well deserved drink and pizza for dinner.
