Day 6 was all about small boats landing in 1944 and today would be about small boats leaving in 2024 as I cycle the Boulogne to Dunkirk section synonymous with people traffickers to the UK. It will be interesting to see how Kier Starmer will ‘smash the gangs’. I had learnt this policy from a HIGNFY recording that I attended which had Keir, and several labour politicians, repeatedly using the phrase in a 30 second montage. The power of repetitive learning.

Torn between having an 8am free buffet breakfast and getting an early start, I opted for the breakfast, affording myself a bit of luxury, given that it is a holiday after all. Leaving @ 8:35am, I wanted to find memorable image of Boulogne and the following was the best that I could manage on my route out of town.

My route to Etaples was a combination EV4, Google and things that took my fancy. It was undulating through pleasant countryside with views of the UK in places.

Then at Etaples I decided to follow the coast route (D940) to Sangatte (yes, the closed refugee camp) via Cap Blanc Nez. While there was no gradient warning, I could see the road winding up the hillside for the 1km of bends that was indicated. In my experience, it was similar to an Alpine or Pyrenean climb that goes on for 10-20km and credence was added to that thought when I saw Wout Van Aert’s name painted on the road suggesting that it had been used in a recent local cycle race. A real ‘Puncheurs’ climb. At the top there were more views of the UK and the descent into Sangatte. It was fitting that this was the last real climb of the trip.

After a coffee stop in Calais I had a pedal round to find a memorable sight. There were also a few odd groups of migrants hanging round.

After 40 miles I arrived in Gravelines for my tuna roll purchased in Calais and was just about to start when 3 gendarmerie turned up in a police van and started wandering around the waterfront. Being the only person in the area they approached me and after the usual formalities / apologies (for not understanding  them) they asked me if I’d seen any migrants in a boat. I replied that I hadn’t as I had only just arrived. With that they left and walked up the observation tower (Calvaire des Marins de Grand-Fort-Philippe) and started looking through the tourist binoculars. Ten minutes later another van with 3 more gendarmerie turned up and also went up the observation tower, where they remained until I left 20 minutes later. I’ll leave you decide about how committed they were and whether that is value for (our) money. Perhaps I need to have a chat with Yvette Cooper ?

After leaving Gravelines I soon hit a dead end on a Google cycle option and hit reverse. However on leaving the industrial estate I noticed a company sign proud to be a producer of Aspartame. Mmm, I had heard about aspartame and a quick Google reminded me that it is ‘an artificial sweetener 200 times sweeter than sucrose and is commonly used as a sugar substitute in foods and beverages’. And to avoid getting sued, there was a ruling in 2023 from the JCEFA (Joint FAO/WHO Expert Committee on Food Additives) that stated ‘the evidence of an association between aspartame consumption and cancer in humans is not convincing.’ Go figure, as they say.

I continued my journey to Dunkirk on a cycleway adjacent to a main road. With an increasing number of migrants walking back from a food shelter. There were also some walking along the railway, and various groups as I turned off along the canal.

Although sad at number of levels it has been interesting witnessing a microcosm of the migrants issue at first hand as (unsurprisingly) we can get so influenced by what is fed to us in the news.

As for Dunkirk, I have nothing positive say about my experience; the signing, the cycle paths, the driving, the roadworks and so I was pleased get out and quickly pass into Belgium.

I have cycled in Belgium a few times before and just love the seafront. Whereas in France I was pondering where everyone was, in Belgium they all visit the seafront even in a chilly and grey July. De Panne was busy with kids on bikes, pedal cars, walkers, joggers, bungee swings, busy restaurants. It was great to see although a little chaotic at times. And there was even some street art on the beach huts.

Arriving at my fifth and final youth hostel at 6pm, with 77 miles done, I reflected on a day of real contrasts, lucky enough to find a nice restaurant with great food, and a bit of humour about being misunderstood.