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| Inside Dover Port |
After leaving you guys at the Internet café yesterday evening I mounted my stolen bike and headed east away from the setting sun, back towards that Bed and breakfast. I had to stop to fill up with petrol and reluctantly paid the £10 for it. When I got to the bnb I was confronted by a surly old lady at the counter, she hated me, I could see the loathing and disgust in her dark beady eyes. She told me single rooms were £65 for the night and grimaced as I took the crumpled notes from my pocket. I only had sixty and she wouldn’t accept it, not even if she waived the breakfast. Climbing back on the bike annoyed and angry, I went down to the beach and gazed out at the dying sun. Opening my bottle of vodka and my laptop I sat down and began working on both. Two hours later I had finished half the bottle, my laptop was almost out of juice, and I still had no Idea how I was going to get on that ferry. As I stared out into the blurry majestic ocean I suddenly realized the answer had been staring at me the whole time. Nearly the whole ten-mile stretch from here to Dover was lined with boats. All I had to do was borrow one. It’s not that far across the English Channel.
I jumped up excited and swaying, climbed back on my bike, and wobbled down the dark road back toward Dover. I found a small twin-engine speed boat next to a shop called “Dover sea sports club”. Looking through the windows of the small building, I knew there would be a key inside - who ever owned the boat would be bound to keep a spare. Taking a scaffolding pole from the construction site next door, I placed the end of it over the door handle and pushed with all of my body weight until the wooden door popped open. Cautiously I tiptoed inside, paranoid an alarm would go off. I found the keys in the top drawer of a desk; this had been so easy that I actually laughed. Climbing back into the boat I tested the keys. The engines gave a brief stutter and I shut them off - This was definitely my ticket to France. I released the brake from the trailer and rolled it down into the cold water. Grabbing my bag I climbed inside.
I jumped up excited and swaying, climbed back on my bike, and wobbled down the dark road back toward Dover. I found a small twin-engine speed boat next to a shop called “Dover sea sports club”. Looking through the windows of the small building, I knew there would be a key inside - who ever owned the boat would be bound to keep a spare. Taking a scaffolding pole from the construction site next door, I placed the end of it over the door handle and pushed with all of my body weight until the wooden door popped open. Cautiously I tiptoed inside, paranoid an alarm would go off. I found the keys in the top drawer of a desk; this had been so easy that I actually laughed. Climbing back into the boat I tested the keys. The engines gave a brief stutter and I shut them off - This was definitely my ticket to France. I released the brake from the trailer and rolled it down into the cold water. Grabbing my bag I climbed inside.
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| Dover Sea Sports Center |
I was about an hour out to sea before the lights from the houses along the great shores of England were swallowed by darkness, I couldn’t see anything. I unpacked all my clothes, put them on to ward of the cold sea air and climbed into the cabin with the rest of the vodka. I sat there for ages drinking the liquid fire and playing with my cheap plastic lighter, watching the flames taunt the shadows in time to the gentle swaying of the boat. I started feeling sorry myself. - Its my own fault I’m a fugitive. Its my own fault my friends and family are in danger. It’s my own fault I’m stuck on this fucking boat heading out to mainland Europe to hide. Eventually, numb by the drink, I put my head down on my bag and fell asleep.
When I woke I had no idea what the time was, but the sun had climbed about half way up the blue cloudless sky. I couldn’t see any land but I could tell by the sun roughly which direction was south. I started the engines and set off into the unknown, hoping I hadn’t drifted to far.
Eventually I saw land in the distance, the nation of France beckoning me closer. When I got to the shore I pulled hard on the throttle, accelerating towards the land. I hit a sand bank hard and the boat came right up on to the beach. I’ve done it! I’m here, and I’m a lot safer than I was yesterday! I walked for a while inland until I found a dusty dirt road and began trekking along it kicking up clouds of dirt. It wasn’t long before a local pulled up in a rusted pickup truck.
“Quel partie de France sommes-nous?” I asked. He stared at me like I was insane.
“Pouvez vous me conduire?” I offered, putting on my sweetest most innocent face. He pointed at the back of his truck and I climbed in amongst boxes of vegetables. We drove for about 45 minutes, driving through one village and stopping in the next, I think the roadsign read “Asnelles”. I thanked the driver and jumped out swinging my rucksack over my left shoulder. I started looking around the old town for somewhere that could change my £60 into Euros. Eventually I found the town library - walking inside and finding they had Internet access put a huge smile on my face.
I’m about to set off for Paris, I just had a look at a French map and it seems Paris isn’t too far from Asnelles. Also, as people in the comments asked, I pulled a few pics from Google maps - one of Inside Dover port and one of the building where I found the boat. Congratulations if you made it through the whole post, I know it was quite long; I’m just excited to be here, and I find it very hard to be descriptive and brief at the same time. I'll try to keep them shorter in future. Anyway, take care and I’ll update when I can. x
