The Rover is Over from Dover to…Calais

It starts off ok with ‘the rover is over ‘ but then it just kind of falls apart after Dover. Anyway I’m not over from Dover today, I’m over from Leeds, Seeds, Deeds, Weeds, Feeds, Heeds, Needs, Reeds. Or, as their football fans would have it, Leeds, Leeds, Leeds, Leeds.

I’m midway through my John O’Groats to Tangiers trek and my next phase is to walk from Calais to the Pyrenees in the south of France. This is the first leg from Calais to Le Havre, down the northern coast.

I came over on a flight to Paris, at around the same time that Juliet (youngest daughter) and her fiancé George were flying to Ibiza, so we spent a couple of quality hours together in the airport.

You go your way I’ll go mine. Thanks Bob.

My way was to get a flight to Paris and a train from Paris to Calais, although it took 3 trains to get here. The views were fleeting, from the TGV.

I got here despite the shambolic signage and misinformation from SNCF attendants, and because of the efficiency of the trains.

Calais appeared. Timeless and still with a British feel. It was ours for centuries.

I’m in a hotel tonight; I expect to be in my tent for 12 of the next 15 nights so a hotel tonight is great. Tomorrow is the start of my Gallic trek!

Night night.