Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

05:00

I rolled out of bed yesterday before most people I know back in the States even crawled into theirs. By five a.m. I was headed back to France to return the rental car at the CDG airport in Paris. Europcar allows rentals to cross certain international lines but the cars must be returned to their country of origin. So I had to do this thing, and it was a doozy of a thing. I drove a car to catch a shuttle to catch a plane to catch a train and I crossed the English Channel twice--once underneath and again overhead. Of great interest to me were the news reports on every channel about "Hessy" being spotted in the Thames. I was listening to one such broadcast at the very moment I drover over the Dartford Crossing, which was the most recent place she'd been sighted.

Sadly, today news came that Hessy was found deceased in the water. A ten-meter humpback whale has no business in a major shipping lane, and I really wish efforts had been made to guide her back out to sea before this tragedy happened.

By sun-up I had seen many signs of the impending Brexit. No, really. Signs. This one made regular appearances on all the major motorways I traveled.

08:00

By eight a.m. I'd made it through all the security and border checkpoints heading from England back into France. I was able to get some interesting photos of this massive marvel called the Eurotunnel from the U.K. side.

I also snapped a couple pics of the Folkstone White Horse, a hill figure constructed in June 2003 based on the drawing of local artist Charlie Newington. The horse figure is there to celebrate the community spirit and rejuvenation of the Folkstone region after success of the Eurotunnel brought new traffic through the area in a most literal sense.

Below is a little video I compiled of the Eurotunnel shuttle for all the people who have never and may never get to see it. The "Chunnel" isn't luxurious, just practical. But I will always be glad I had the chance to experience this.

10:00

I have to admit: driving on the right side my whole life, then driving on the left side for three days, then suddenly going back to driving on the right did cause a bit of discombobulation for me. But I managed without medical emergency or property damage. By ten a.m. I was well on my way to Paris. I stopped at what is called a "rest area" in the U.S. and an "aire de (insert name of nearest town)" in France. This one, near Wancourt, is really neat because the southbound side has a crossover to the northbound side where all the amenities are located. I grabbed a snack and a coffee at Starbucks and stopped for a photo moment on the way back across to the car. As you can see, French autoroutes are very similar in concept and function as U.S. interstates. At a glance, they're virtually indistinguishable.

14:00

By two p.m. I'd returned the car at the proper terminal and made my way through yet another security and customs experience. This one was as straightforward as they come, though...I had no luggage. I'd arrived in plenty of time to stroll through various parts of the airport and check out shops I've never had time to explore. Near the gate where my flight would board I saw a red piano. A red piano! Of course I had to have a photo of it. Too bad there was no one around to make it sing.

I've posted tons of pictures that I took on airplanes lately. But I couldn't resist getting one shot of the English countryside from the air. It's so pretty!

17:00

Back on the ground at Gatwick Airport, I had to catch a train to the Farringdon Station, where I'd take the local underground to Liverpool Street Station in London. There, I had to find the Greater Anglia line that would take me into Essex to Colchester and eventually back toward Clacton-on-Sea.

Below: Colchester Station.

The miracle of all this is that I actually did it! I caught all the trains and rode all the places and made all the transfers. Except for the very last stop. Hoo, boy. I made a mess out of that one.

I won't go into detail about my technical difficulties, but I'll just say I couldn't get the train doors open at my last stop, which is a station directly adjacent to the place I'm staying. Very convenient...until you ride three miles into the wilderness and, in panic, hop off the train thinking you might be able to catch a taxi back home.

Uhmmm...not a chance.

The place was as deserted as they come. I mean, I didn't even see an insect. I had six percent battery on the spiffy new English phone I'd bought and no clue how I was going to get back to my proper stop.

I fired off a bunch of text messages to Michel, who then...get this...offered to walk three miles to meet me and bring my service dog so I could walk back with him. Ever wonder why I call him my best friend? Well there ya go, folks. Who else would offer to do this for me?

Luckily for both of us, I found a screen on the other side of the platform with live route updates.

A train was coming back in about half an hour that would take me where I needed to go. Even better, I found a ticket machine that actually worked. I have to hand it to Greater Anglia--they may travel to some astoundingly out-of-the-way places, but by golly their system is high tech. I purchased a ticket for 3.30 pounds (my keyboard won't make that little L symbol thingy, so that's the best I can do) and within half an hour I was walking through the door.

23:00

The only thing I'll say about what was waiting for me is that Michel is the best. I mean, absolutely the best friend, best person to have on speed dial in an emergency, best chef. Dinner was fantastic. And all was well with the world.