We made it to Rosslare without problems. The train to Dublin was badly delayed (stuck behind something on the way into Dublin?), and, determined to never the less have a nice cup of coffee, we earned a minor panic when the guard at the barrier told us we had 1.5mins to make our train (Matt had forgotten that the booking confirmation had told him to board the train 20 minutes before departure). It was probably worth it though, the coffee was badly needed.
Our ship awaits
In Rosslare, things started to look less positive. It was raining, and again we had a bit of a walk to the ferry terminal. It was nothing compared to Liverpool standards though, being shorter and well signed. Having reached check-in, waited in an orderly line, we were told we couldn't check in for another ca. 2 hours. Would have been great if they could have mentioned that online, or even written a little sign. But there was more bad news, followed by some good. The restaurant in the terminal has been closed! But the silver lining was that there were free luggage lockers and we had time on our hands. So we set off outside, in the driving rain, up the hill to the Rosslare Hotel, "Food served all day". My short, ginger, drowned appearance seemed to raise an eyebrow or two at the bar (it was pub food only during the afternoon), but soon two fried salmons were on their way to be enjoyed by the two wet and one dry travellers. Unfortunately Matt would be seeing his again later...
Wet but well fed
Returning to the terminal, the check-in and boarding was great, even fun. There were a good few foot passengers, though most of them single, and as we gradually discovered, French. Our spirits were high: we'd made it, had some decent, reasonably priced lunch and had an adequate room. It was time to go and enjoy the many wonders of the 'cruise' ferry - the warning from the captain that there would be a "swell" until "the early hours of the morning" dampened our spirits only a little. Sure, as long as we looked at the horizon every now and then, we'd be fine. It was time for afternoon tea, and to let Ronja loose on the "soft play area", which as luck would have it, was located on the front half of the ship.
It's all smiles as we unpack in our fantastic cabin
Well, you can guess where this story is going. Until 11pm or so, we had a pretty terrible time. I (Matt) was physically sick - a first time for me on a boat (although this was also my first (and last!?) 18 hour boat trip...). Birgit came close but managed to survive it. The blessing was that Ronja seemed unmoved, and fell asleep once we made it back to our cabin (which was a struggle). She slept most of the time until we'd passed the swell. Birgit managed to feed her some bread & cheese (which, thank goodness, we had brought with us fearing the restaurant prices) and changed a nappy, lying down. Even the thought of walking around was traumatic for both of us. The second time she woke up, the sea had calmed (and we had both managed some sleep), and Birgit felt well enough to venture upstairs and obtain some hot milk. By morning, we both felt well enough to face breakfast. Soon we were in Cherbourg. Despite being on the move for well over 24 hours, we were still far (in terms of time: a car rental here probably would have been a brilliant idea) from our final destination of Dinard in Brittany. A zig-zig route involving 3 trains and a bus were to follow. The hope of a nice lunch in Cherbourg station was dashed (the earlier hope that the train station and ferry terminal were beside each other had been dashed after booking but before travelling - that was a 30+ minute walk with patchy signage; the sign for the "city centre shuttle bus" appeared to be a cruel joke) - the best we could manage in the station was some prepacked takeaway salads, and after a trip outide, pain au lait for Birgit & Ronja. The first train was great, almost empty, intercity with lots of room. On the second, lengthiest train ride, a tiny regional diesel bus on tracks, we had a lot less fun. The final, short hop to St Malo was roomier. In St Malo, we realized we'd lost two jackets on the first train. An attempt to reach the lost property office ended in Matt being told by an unfriendly but important looking SNCF employee that he was in a forbidden area. Spirits were down. But, the bus arrived, and some guesswork in Dinard got us quickly to our holiday appartment. We'd arrived. Time for crepes and a glass of cider!
Waiting for the magic sign to tell us that the train behind (yes, that gray/brown stripe) is in fact actually our train
Arrived! Time to unpack (Ronja's favourite game)
Having had a day to recover, we'd probably still say that is only a route for the determined backpacker, and not the family of three. The trip to Belfast was genuinely fun, but perhaps only because we took a break halfway, met a friend and had a beautifully smooth sailing, met by a loving family at the end. Maybe the novelty value of noticing our travel choices were somewhat unconventional wore off. In any case, here are some good and bad points for the prospective sail & railer:
+ Getting to Rosslare from Belfast/Lisburn/Portadown is really easy thanks to both routes using Dublin Connely. If you book the tickets in advance, its quite cheap. Its nice that you end up at the port terminal.
- 5 hours is a bit long, and there's no integrated ticketing to France (unlike Britain).
+ The terminal is pretty good with a covered walkway all the way up to the ferry.
- Why did they close the restaurant? Why!? Nothing would be more pleasant with a two hour wait and pouring rain outside.
+ The boat is really nice - welcoming, helpful staff, loads of places to eat, drink and relax. A bunch of TV channels in your room and (alledgedly) free internet. The food prices are not cheap, but also not extortionate as we had feared.
- The dangers of an 18 hour boat trip through choppy waters with plenty of food and alcohol on hand probably shouldn't be underestimated. If we did it again, we'd look into travel tablets, and probably try to lie down ASAP if it was bumpy, instead of trying to stick it out upstairs.
+ France, er, has trains. They more or less turn up, and get you to where you want to be. Fellow travellers are helpful (one helped carry a buggy) and train staff seem to know thanks to some 6th sense what platform you need to get to.
- OK, mostly only negative points here. Regional French train travel is slow, cumbersome and involves lots of waiting around. But thats probably true of most countries. One (recently modernized) station had only massive staircases for changing platforms. The French (unlike the Germans) do not set platforms for train arrivals and departures in advance, so you never quite know where you have to go until the last minute. Actually, this contributed to Matt once being robbed in a French train station, but that's another story...
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