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Ardres, France
We rolled off the ferry to a black sky, wind and it was trying to rain. Ourselves and all the other cyclists came off first but were then told to wait. Shortly afterwards we were escorted through the port by a white van bypassing passport control straight onto the road into Calais. We fought a raging side wind to our first French supermarket where Donna looked at what gourmet delights we could rustle up on the stove. Such a choice of bread on their list but they ...