Palingbeek and beyond - Part 3

Why is this in three parts?  Initially I started to create the posts on my phone using a blogging app. Luckily blogger accepts posts from email as well, although this time I haven't had to use it.

The first part was started in Belgium and then the second added after I had returned, and this the final countdown. Today. The day after.

From Palingbeek the plan was to visit the two mine craters at St Eloi. I had got the gate code from the tourist office whilst in search of the elusive Last Post Association pins.

I almost missed it and there is little parking.  Rather than the big hole I expected, it is a garden between two houses.

Whilst I was there an English couple came up and I shared the gate code with them. As I prepared to move to the next waypoint, I heard the sound of Harley's.  Anyone that has heard a hardly with a loud exhaust will know the sound.

A group sped past.  Even though I was in bike gear, holding a bike helmet in my hand with Pepe parked up, not a single HD rider even nodded to me as I gave them the biker wave.

I gave up counting at 40 and then the non-HD''s happened along. Most waved or nodded..... WTF?

I togged up and headed to the next waypoint after that.  It was supposed to be the Pool of Peace and I never found it.  What with roads closed and TomTom having a bit of a fit we arrived at the Island of Ireland Peace Park instead. TomTom seemingly forgotten the Messines waypoint.

I was getting a little strapped for time anyway.  

The Island of Ireland Peace Park is built between Messines and Ploegsteert.  The tower is a replica of one in Ireland. 

And the stones along the right side of the path show the regiments and the casualties.  The three standing stones on the right of the path show the casualties (killed, wounded & missing)  for the three Irish Divisions.  They add up to over 70000.

From there I headed to my last stop at Ploegsteert and the Memorial to the Missing.

What started off as a small cemetery, called Hyde Park Corner,  to the dead from the Berkshire Regiment was extended across the road and the large monument was erected.  The walls inside lined with the regiments and names of the casualties - The Missing.



For us nowadays it is unimaginable that men could simply disappear and never be found. The sheer volumes of those that have no known grave is beyond belief.

By now it was getting on for 4.15pm and I had to be back in Calais for the train home. My check-in was 5.50pm at the latest.  

Crossing back into France was unnoticeable.  On the way out I had stopped by a large and decaying border post near Watou and a Belgium signpost.  I only knew I was in France as the cars parked on drives had French and not Belgian licence plates.

I was soon on the A25.  My "miles to empty" gauge was showing less than the distance to travel and so I decided to splash and dash at at a services.  But once there, at Aire de St-Laurent, I filled right up. As is the case in England. Motorway services charge significantly higher than local stations.  Oh well! One smile came when I finished paying and got on, surrounded by UK bikers, Pepe decided to sluggishly fire over. A second stab of the button needed to get him going..... The nod and smiles from a few of them realising that they didn't have to give me a push was priceless.

Fuelly calculated that tank at 43.6 mpg. Need to ride a lot slower to see if I can top 50!

I arrived at Calais and checked in at 5.07pm.  I was offered my booked crossing of 6.20pm.  No mention of the disaster to happen.  Delayed.

Where have we heard that before.  Finally after being shunted from the parking by the terminal to the waiting area nearer the trains we got on a train that left at 9.02pm  local time.

I don't have a problem with breakdowns, but I do have a problem with lack of information.  And Eurotunnel did nothing to keep anyone appraised of the problems of the day.  I learned from Claire on the phone that a train had broken down in the tunnel on the way to France at around 5.30pm.

In the end with the hour time difference removed and the short ride home, I was actually in the house at 8.54pm.

Despite that. Being Johnny No-Mates again I had a really good time visiting all these sights that I had never done before.

I met some nice people, also on bikes, as we waited in both directions for what was over three and a quarter  hours of delayed services.   

Someone joked it was kind of Eurotunnel not to charge us extra for the two hours and 42 minutes more time we had in France.  

Gallows humour.  The Tommies in the trenches would have approved.