Veulettes sur Mer to Fecamp – Great Coast, Really Great. (Second blog today:)

I mean really great. This is the best stretch of French coast I have ever experienced since the west coast of Belle Isle en Mer. I don’t like superlatives but this is justified and true.

This morning it had rained heavily overnight and my tent was sodden again. I didn’t want to get out from underneath my sleeping bag, but inevitably had to. I climbed through the window and down to the street, I’m shining like a new dime. Thanks Tom.

I packed up my tent Packed it up, soaking frickin wet, and headed for the coast.

And it was still chucking it down, but I got waterproofs on me and the rucksack.

I set off across the shoreline. Stupid signs again saying it was against the law. I know the risks matey boys. I’ve got previous.

I like this. I love this. Sorry but I love it where there is a slight risk. The tide is coming in. I can’t tell from the map where I can get up the cliffs and I’m not 100% sure if I’ll make it. Ridiculous old fart I know but that’s where I am. But I do have an exit plan. Run like hell back the way I came.

After a couple of miles this became my new emergency evacuation plan. I really hope I won’t have to use it.

Keep going lad.

I love it here. I do and I can’t help it. There’s nobody else. The place is purely natural. I‘m sorry but I can’t explain it better. No human interference. That’s better.

The tide came in higher so time to play it safe. I came inland at the next opportunity and followed the GR21 route across the cliff tops again.

To find that the Virgin Mary was holding up the little baby Jesus who was, again, singing the greasy chip butty song. He must have been brassed off that, for his first 1,889 years, he didn’t have a decent team to support but now we’re happy to accept him, the Father and the Holy Ghost as fans. I hope they don’t get too violent at away matches.

I walked over the top of the hills in the rain and eventually dropped down to Fecamp in the late afternoon. A long slog past a nuclear power facility, that forced me inland, and a nosy old get who disputed my right of way. I won, purely by being insistent. I looked lairy so he backed off. Why are there people like him who hate folk? That’s my job.

Fecamp is wonderful. It’s a working port city, and the cargo activities made me tingle with memories of my 7 years working on Bristol docks.

But it’s also a fishing fleet centre and a leisure craft centre as well

Great town. And in order to welcome me the skies cleared again.

I found the hotel, bought some supermarket scran and turned in early. Hotel Angleterre. Come on England! Time to dry out my tent in the bedroom and get some sleep.

Night night.