Arriving in Normandy brought with it the realisation that we were actually doing it — that we were pedalling across Europe, that we'd started making our dreams real.
The first week leaving England and arriving in France had flown past in a blur, one pedal stroke after another, without us fully registering what we were doing.
But in Normandy it hit us. We understood, clearly and suddenly, what we were actually in the middle of: cycling around the world.
We rolled into Normandy in the rain, into a headwind, with enormous grins on our faces.
Pedalling along the Normandy coast
On the first day we pulled into Saint-Valery-en-Caux, a small town about 20 km south of the monumental city of Dieppe.
There we met up with our Warmshowers host — a young French engineer, a vegetarian, who worked at a nuclear power plant and was into adventure sports.
Marc introduced us to several regional specialities: local cheeses and a baked potato-and-milk dish typical of his home town.
From there we pushed on towards Sainneville, near Le Havre — but rather than heading there in a straight line, we followed the coast, enjoying stunning views of the Upper Normandy cliffs and the sunset over Fécamp.
Getting down to the beach under those cliffs meant descending a slippery staircase whose final six metres had crumbled away, leaving me to slide down a mossy rope tied to the last railing. The views were worth it.
In Sainneville we stayed with an older French couple who'd done plenty of travelling of their own, and I had to make do with my very rusty French.
From there we continued to Le Havre, a UNESCO World Heritage Site rebuilt entirely by a single architect after the bombing raids of the Second World War. Interesting? Yes. Beautiful? Not especially.
Crossing the Normandy Bridge by bike
Leaving Le Havre to continue towards Caen, we made a mistake. Trusting Google Maps' cycling route, we followed the directions towards the Normandy Bridge.
We'd read more than once that you could cross the Normandy Bridge by bike — that there was a cycle path and a pedestrian area — but when we actually arrived, signs banned bikes and there was no pedestrian access at all.
We weren't in front of the Normandy Bridge. We were in front of the access bridge that forms part of the motorway. Oops.
Too late to turn back or change plan — we didn't know there was another access route (which would have meant 30 km of backtracking to central Le Havre) — so we cycled through the rain and wind along the motorway to cross the first bridge section and reach the island where the cycle path and the actual Pont de Normandie begin.
Once there, we found the cycle path in our direction was closed for works, forcing us to use the wrong-way lane — so we hopped up onto the pedestrian walkway (completely empty, as it happened) and rode it to the far bank of the Seine, finally crossing into Lower Normandy.
What with the rain, the wind and the stress of cycling along a motorway — and then in the wrong direction — I couldn't stop to take a single photograph of the bridge.
Or rather, I didn't fancy Ilze launching herself at my throat for stopping in the middle of it — so thanks go to Pierre Lesage for that blue-sky shot.
