The Tour Begins! Dublin to France via Ferry

Fair Warning

This post is the first of many what I’m calling Tripologues. There is a good chance, maybe even a certainty, that you will find most of what’s in these tripologues not just boring in the traditional sense but so tediously detailed and littered with seemingly unnecessary miscellany that your eyes will burn. This is intentional.

I’m writing these tripologues to entertain an audience. On this point, there is no doubt. However, my audience is not you — unless you are the future me. I’m writing tripologues to have something I can look back on that will spark my memory not just of the trip highlights, but of the specifics too. This project is a series of snapshots in time for better or for worse, not what I think the internet will find interesting or worthwhile. Despite this, I hope these tripologues become a resource to future bike tourers on the EuroVelo6 and that they give my friends and family some entertainment.

With that out of the way…

The weeks of planning have passed, the gear research is complete, the anticipation has peaked, and now it is go time.

I decided it’d be more fun to take a boat from Dublin to France than it would be to fly. So I bought a ticket with Dublin Ferries, packed up my bike, and left the apartment to begin this bike tour adventure.

Abby’s office is just a 10-minute bike ride away from the Dublin Port so she rode with me to the ferry and saw me off. Despite a few near misses with overzealous semi-truck drivers, we made it to the harbor.

At the ticket counter, I was brusquely told to take myself and my bike up to the front of the line of cars. Abby and I had a somewhat teary-eyed goodbye and off I went.

Once I made it to the front of the hundreds of cars waiting to board, another gentleman told me that, in fact, the Green Machine and I would be the last on.

A few minutes into waiting a man rode up to me on his fully loaded bike. I was excited to meet a fellow cyclist this early on in the trip and was eager to learn where he was headed. He told me his name was “Paul, Paul O’Keefe.” Paul is cycling along the Camino de Santiago with a massive art piece weighing no less than 20 pounds to “Promote love and peace.” ‘Cool enough,’ I thought. Paul spent years in the Australian wilderness and had the newspaper clippings to prove it. Not to mention, he’s a self-described Irish Mystic.

Both Paul and I reserved reclining chairs for the 23-hour journey. With a chair costing 20-some-odd Euros and a cabin costing over 100eur, it was a no-brainer. But Paul, being the all-experienced traveler he is, let me in on a secret. “Yep, thought so… Shane, you know these padded benches will make a fine place to sleep tonight, I think.” I agreed. So I took my things from my reclining chair and boguarded a nice padded booth for the rest of the night.

As far as the boat trip went, the water was vast and blue and that’s all I have to say about that. I was more excited to leave Ireland than I was to watch it as I went.

As a fitting parting gift from the city, Dublin ensured that my friend Paul loved to smoke hand-rolled cigarettes. Every 20 minutes or so Paul left for a smoke break and brought me back a sneeze attack. I didn’t mind though; Paul is engaging, excited about his project, and, judging by the pictures of his former girlfriends that he’s shown me, he has a real way with the ladies.

23 hours later and after being the last to board, I made sure I was the first off the Ferry.

Off I rode into the city of Cherbourg. A great little northern coastal town with excellent bike lanes and some neat statues. A stop for some green beans, carrots, and cherries was all I had time for. Then it was off to the train station for the next leg of the journey.