The Longest day
We knew, or had it in our minds, it was going to be a long journey, but in actuality it seemed like a survival exercise.
We stop off just ouside the M25 to settle the kids down to sleep and give them Phemerol or Femedom or Chloroform or something like that, to make them sleep and We get to the tunnel no problemo, at 10.30pm ready for the 11.30pm crossing.
The tunnel is pretty scary. Because we've got the caravan we go into the double deck portion of the train, the same as the trucks I guess. Infact the inside of the carriage looked a bit like a hospital. When the impressive doors come down to hermetically seals us into the cell I ironically realise that the last time I felt this claustrophobic was having a MRI scan. If I was thinking this all in my head then Lou was having no problem verbalising it. "How the fuck do we get out?" she says.
While we were waiting to suffocate underneath the sea, James was practicaly fitting in the car because he couldn't get comfortable, the medicine having the completely wrong effect. Whilst he was thrashing about and Lou was trying out all 456 different combinations of sleeping arrangements available in our car - I took the opportunity to do some "essential" auto maintenance - remove the bulb of the permanently on faulty fog light from the caravan that everyone who had passed us on the way had helpfully reminded me about, and fitting some stupid beam bender things might go on normal cars but on my car they just do not stick flat. I do my best and by the time I'd finished/given up we were in France and as i squinted out of the window I could see a few spots of drizzle against the train windows.
As we exit Calais the rain starts to pour as it does for the next 21 hours and motorway lights seem to have come under a eu ban as there is none to guide your way. I get the first 2 crucial junctions out of the way and settle into the long stretch towards Paris. The weather is certainly helping me to concentrate intermittent terrential rain and fog, yes thats right FOG - good job I took the bulb out. La Supervisor is not pleased.
As we get closer to Paris the volume of traffic has taken on epic proportions, has the 12 minute warning been issued in France? Its like, and I am not joking - rush hour on the M1 - and it is 3.30 in the morning. I have a feeling that its something to do with the toll charges being cheaper at night or maybe they all like to test their aqua-planing techniques. Driving in France seems to consist of going as fast as possible ignoring the weather but it doesn't matter as long as you have your indicator permanently on. We pass 4 serious crashes as we travel down so my fears that the crack beam bending enforcement gendarmes are going to swoop on me are allayed as they seem to have plenty of stupid people to help cut out of their cars.
As we approach Paris, Lou and I are shouting directions at each other like we're on a territorial army advert. Miraculously (why do the french see fit to have three names for each road and then randomly change them every 10km?) and with the help of my first Red Bull Coffee combination we get around Paris and on the even longer road South. By about 6.00 and decide to stop at the services.
It is still absolutely PISSING it down and there is no room at the services to park a moped let alone noahs fockin ark. We decide to follow the trend of the lorry drivers and park on the slip road back onto the motorway at the end of the long line of lorries. Within two minutes the 3 juggernauts behind us disappear so we are left teetering precariously on the edge of the motorway, I neck another red bull (can't they make them taste any better?) and fall to sleep.
We wake up at 7.00. and the traffic is still zooming by us at unnerving volume. But this time it is in the light. The next 10 hours or so are just pretty painful and rainy, with a few snatched naps and stops for food, but the thought of the Millau viaduct and a couple of sweet coffees keep me going.
To be honest the viaduct was pretty disappointing. The first glimpse was awesome as you can't see it until you're about 2 km away and as we turn down and get our first glmpse of it, all the towers come into view and then the top of them all lit up at the same time with the aircraft warning lights. Boom, as Steve would say in keynote mode. But from then on it was downhill, both physically and metaphorically. It isn't as good a view from the road as it is from other angles, where the amazing photos of it have been taken. There is a viewing point just before the viaduct that may have given a more spectacular view of the whole structure but as it was absolutely pissing it down and the caffeine supply was running low, and we still had about 300km still to go, a stop off was ruled out of the question - hence the crap - through the window - photos.
The last bit was hitting the wall. We thought we were there when we had passed the viaduct, but we still had another 3 hours to go. I need the power of greyskull and i've only got the power of redbull. This section is all a bit of a blur until the end when we get lost and find ourselves in the middle of Beziers - which may not seem to bad to you - but when you've got a massive fuckin caravan in tow, you've been driving for 27 hours, and you're negotiating a foreign one way system, with parking very close on either side, its no joke. I take on the put your foot down and hope for the best rule, and get through it without a scratch and with Lou quite literally praying for our safe arrival, safely arrive at about 8pm.
We have spent about £100 on tolls and about the same on fuel, and as we arrive the rain starts to ease and our recuperation begins.
Never EVER again.
posted by Mark Williams at 10:27 pm
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