Although hugely enjoyable, trips to Calais are characterized by very early starts and late home-comings. Saturday, 23-April was no different despite our two day fare and at 0300 hours in both the O'Douglas households situated in Milton Keynes an alarm sounds to summon us from our beds. Checking for the umpteenth time that we all have our passports and Don has the tickets, we set off in the darkness on a two-hour journey to Dover port. The sun rises directrly in our eyes just as we reach Dover, our first destination.
Passing through Border Control entirely un-hindered by vigilant security guards we find ourselves so ahead of schedule that we manage to get on an earlier sailing. SeaFrance Ferries, I'm afraid to say, please clean up your act! The facilities were a disgrace, customer service non-existent and the over-priced breakfast was unpalatable, to put it nicely. Never mind, the trip across the channel takes a mere 55 minutes or so and soon we are leaving behind the only disappointing aspect of the Road to Rouen (Road to Ruin.....get it) trip, as we have dubbed our short break.
First stop - the Carrefour hypermarket at Cite Europe to purchase a few obligatory supplies, namely 1 litre bottles of liqueur difficult and/or expensive to find in the UK, some interesting French wines perhaps, Normandy cidre for Pete and exotic real ales for me and our good friends in Leighton Buzzard, Trish & Nigel. Pete likes to spend some time in the Gadgets department spying out new 'tech' or comparing prices, while I drool over the dispaly of cheeses (fromage) in the huge delicatessen section. I can tell the seafood is fresh from the smell but we can't buy any because it would go off before we get home. In the fresh produce section the lack of packaging is conspicuous by its absence; it worries me how much plastic is used to package fruit and vegetables in the British supermarkets.
Feeling light-headed through lack of a decent cup of tea or coffee, we make a bit of an exhibition of ourselves out in the car park but decide to press on, in a hurry to reach Rouen and the undoubted abundance of fine cafes and restaurants where we can eat and drink to our hearts' content. In the early hours of the morning, while Pete was in the shower, I had made a thermos of coffee since the ferry 'hot' beverages are notoriously foul, and as we cruise down the French A16 motorway Pete suddenly takes the off-ramp leading to the Aire Autoroutiere de la Baie de Somme (or, Bay of the Somme service station). The French service stations are more than a petrol pump and convenience store mostly full of confectionary; they often provide landscaped picnic areas and all the amenities long-distance travellers need or want.
Set back from the motorway, behind the petrol pumps, an unobstrusive delightful surprise awaits that not even the presence of a lone, stark-white windturbine standing sentinal alerts us to what we are about to find. It's a picnic area - with a difference. An ecological wood and glass mini-mall surrounded by duck and fish ponds blends into the surrounding daisy-pied meadow (Katherine Mansfield expression) with paths bordering the sedge-lined water channel enticing motorists to stroll along and stretch their legs. Everything is designed to be environmentally friendly and although the windturbine doesn't supply all the energy the complex needs, it helps to reduce running costs and usage of the national grid.
After an impromptu picnic on the grass at which an army of uninvited furry caterpillars try to join in, we tarry awhile longer in order to take advantage of the views from the Lookout Tower. A photo opportunity with all four of us in the frame together turns into a prolonged pose while Pete tries to set the camera on timer. The sunlight is so bright he can't see what it says on the display screen - so he tells us.
Taking in the 360 degree vista from the Lookout one is struck by how flat the lay of the land is and I try to imagine WWI soldiers endeavouring to keep a low profile in muddy trenches, that must have existed almost 100 years ago near where I'm standing, in what has become famously known as The Battle of the Somme, one of the bloodiest military operations ever recorded (1 July to 18 Nov 1916). At the end of the battle British and French forces had penetrated a total of 9.7km (6 miles) into German occupied territory at the cost of 1.5 million lives.
The bay is too far away to be able to see even from this high point and a shiver runs through me as I compare the tranquil scene before me with the horrors of yesteryear. It's obvious even to an untrained eye such as mine that today the area is an important bird, water-fowl and wildlife sanctuary. Also, Baie de Somme, I've since discovered, has a much earlier significance to English descendants; the invasion fleet of William The Conqueror assembled in the Bay in that famous year of 1066. Further exploration is warranted at a later date I feel.
Fully refreshed, just as Destination Baie de Somme intended, and with an empty thermos flask stowed away, we continue south to Rouen, arriving around 1 o'clock. SatNav guides our driver through the outskirts of the expanded part of the city, down an extremely long and steep hill to where our hotel sits on the banks of the River Seine. Nobody has any idea of what to expect from Rouen; we are merely prepared for the un-expected, whether good or bad.
First surprise is a Gospel Service going on in the bar attached to the hotel. The temperature is in the high 20's, un-natural for the time of year even for Rouen, and all the windows are open but with curtains drawn. Barely able to hear ourselves think, Jill is our interpreter with her "smattering of English" (another in-family joke) and over the din of chanting Hallelujahs from next door she arranges keys to our rooms 2 floors above. The quaint little hotel lift is only big enough for 2 people to get into at a time so thereafter we take the stairs.
Having come totally unprepared, we don't even have a map of the town so Jill speaks to our concierge once again and he produces a tourist map (shouldn't he have offered us one when we checked in?). Serendipiously, we discover a superette just around the corner and because we don't know whether the shops will be open on the morrow, Easter Sunday, a brief conference is held on the footpath resulting in a concensus of opinion that we should stock up with snacks and any other essential supplies now.
That done, and the spoils ferried back to Don & Jill's hotel room, which is on the shady side of the bulding, we point our noses in the Old Town direction. Two blocks later we turn a corner, only to be pulled up sharply in sheer wonderment of surprise - for we have entered the first of many market squares flanked by tall half-timbered buildings.