After a last leg of 30km, I made it to the ferry port in Hook of Holland. Who'd have thought? A last coffee, some bread and cheese laced with cumin and I was set up in a huge ferry for an afternoon trip to England.
Then all nostalgic with the memories of what a great holiday it was; how the cycle paths across practically two countries were of such a quality that I had nothing other to do but appreciate the bike ride, how the people were warm and welcoming and how much I would like to do it again - I barely get off the ferry and a guy in a car calls me a "plonker" and there are no signs directing you to the international train station. There was only one guy on the job and he alone was trying to deal with a ferry load of lost foreigners.
It's good to be back.
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