The ride in was easy and uneventful. Out of the campsite, across the road, along a canal, under an under pass and along the main road into town.
I had a look round the shops (I just can't pass a C&A without a quick nostalgic check). I got a highlighter (hoorah) and a pair of normal sunglasses (I forgot those too, such was my excitement at the prescription ones). I then went and had a very leisurely lunch. The veggie croque was a delight - a cheese toasty topped with melted cheese and mushrooms. I stayed long enough for two coffees and a cheese cake. Retrieving my bike I went on a tour. It's a pretty town with bridges, boats and windmills.
When I had seen my fill (the windmill museum being closed) I set off home. I quickly found the signs for a town near here and headed off. Along a main road, under an underpass and along a canal. As none of it looked that familiar I chastised myself for cycling in a day dream.
Coming to the canal far earlier than I expected (but doesn't the journey back always seem shorter?) I turned - expecting to be in woods. Instead I was in a town. Hmm. Much hunting of signs and map glaring (a different map again, maps are something I'll save for a special post. I know you'll be waiting within bated breath) later, I found a sign for this specific area. To cut a long cycle short, after 10 very confused kilometres I arrived here via the original parallel but totally different canal.
There are lots of morals to this story. Maybe we could go with trusting the signs, or taking note of your surroundings (which, to be fair I did. Hence my utter confusion). What I however will be taking from it is the importance of my map. If I'd just highlighted my route and ignored the bloody signs I'd have been home ages ago.
Gallery
Closed on a Monday
I think the inspiration here is 'English' port in reference to the Mayflower pilgrims. They were flying the Irish and Swedish flags.
I pondered this for a while (Sonet XXX)
Home again for a proper camping tea
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