I got away from Caen at about 8:45 and headed out along the canal to Pegasus Bridge. The rain had eased, but it was still quite drizzly. I stopped at the Pegasus Bridge Cafe for breakfast. On the other side of the bridge, people were gathering for a memorial service to the Glider Pilot Regiment, who had landed on that spot just after midnight on D-Day and secured the bridge: a vital component of the whole D-Day operation, and the battle for Normandy. Two men were killed during the operation: Lieutenant Den Brotheridge, who was wounded storming the bridge, and was the first Allied soldier to be killed by enemy fire on D-Day, and Lance-corporal Fred Greenhalgh who drowned as his glider landed in the pond beside the river. I stopped to pay my respects and observe the ceremony.
It was pretty damp as I headed North to the coast on the East bank of The Orne to Cabourg then inland to Branville and Pont l’Eveque. After that, I travelled up a “Route Verte” – a converted railway line. The going was heavy as it was pretty muddy, but progress was steady until my way was blocked by a fallen tree. There was no way past. Fortunately, as the tree had fallen just before a road bridge, was able to get off the track at the side onto a parallel footpath and onto the road. The way back to the path on the other side of the bridge was too steep to attempt, so I had to work out a detour that would not take me too far out of my way. To be honest, I was glad to return to tarmac, That particular bit of “unpaved road” was not the worst surface I had to contend with over the next couple of days in France.
At a road junction, I passed a supermarket and purchased some bread, Nutella bars, a bottle of cider, and a bottle of Fanta (zero sucre). The weather was getting worse, with a strengthening cross wind, and heavy rain, and the roads either side of and through Pont Audemer had no cycle lanes. The traffic was busy and the drivers were French. The next few hours were not much fun. I had to get off and walk up a steep dual carriageway, before a long slog along a busy, undulating single carriageway (the D675) where a strong cross wind almost blew me over. At La-Trinite-de-Thouberville, I left this road and descended steeply to the Seine, where I raced along the road to meet a ferry I could see returning from the opposite bank, in case it was the last one that night, only to then have to wait at the dockside for half an hour, while the ferryman took his scheduled break between 8 and 8:30pm. On the other side, I followed a pleasant and quiet road North to Quevillon, where I was to spend the night in a very comfortable annex to a rather large house owned by a young banker, Jean-Baptiste. He was out, when I arrived, but his wife welcomed me and showed me the lodgings. I enquired whether there was any food available in the town, but the nearest pizza place was a further 5km towards Rouen, and they did not deliver. I settled for a hot bath and a supper of Normandy Cider and Liptons Caramel Tea. I slept well that night
The Trick Cyclist 