Gosh, this boat is slow. I think it's probably the very slowest ferry I've ever been on. I awoke this morning, did my usual routines, had breakfast, and then - by about 07:30 - went out on deck where I had a look around with the bins. Thereafter - and after about a further half an hour - I thought it would be interesting to check my GPS to see how much ground we'd covered.
Well... we were mid-channel, and approximately due south of Exeter! 8 hours+ at sea and we weren't even threatening the 'corner' (i.e. the northwest tip of France). Aaargh!
Whilst wallowing for the next hour in slight lack-of-progress despair, I spotted a few black-backs, gannets, guillemots, and what I think was a Mediterranean gull (it was a bit far away for a 100% ID). The most interesting and totally unexpected sighting, though, was of a small brown passerine that flew in from the direction of France and perched just out of my line of sight on the ship's superstructure. I wasn't quite sure of the species but it had a warbler look about it. Anyway, for about half an hour I caught glimpses of it flitting about, before it finally fully departed the ship and headed off over the sea towards England. This migration business must be pretty hard going, so who could criticise the little chap's short-if-cheeky hitch-hike.
The ship itself is pretty new (built in 2020) and is nicely appointed. There's the usual tat shop, eateries and an occasional nod to vending machines etc, but none of it is particularly full-on. It's actually generally a pretty nice and relaxed atmosphere onboard, in spite of us suffering a healthy inventory of (somewhat unhealthy) passengers.
Out on deck, the cold and grey has meant it's very unpeopled, apart from a few souls exercising dogs, the occasional raspy-lunged smoker, a handful of people obviously doing 10,000-steps-style walking laps, and one bloke ostentatiously doing Tai Chi. This relatively untrammeled escape has definitely helped counter the tedious progress.
Also helping enormously is my cabin. It's probably the best cabin I've ever had. It was allocated purely randomly and is an inside 4-berther. it's spacious, clean, and has excellent facilities, which include - but are not limited to: mood lighting, a full en-suite, a smart TV, USB charge points, and UK-style plug sockets (as well as French). The best thing about it, though, is it's location. it's genuinely fully detached and very much in the nether regions of the ship. In all the time I've been here I've neither seen nor heard any other passengers passing my door. Indeed, only two other cabins (951 and 955), have their access door situated on 'my' corridor. Part of the reason it's detached is that it's adjacent to the ship's funnel stack, which also affords the added bonus of a slightly louder-than-normal soporific engine thrum. All in, it's just awesome.
I realise I'm altogether unhealthily pleased with bagging this spot, and at the risk of coming across as pathologically obsessed, I present a snap of my celebrated location. Please marvel at the majesty of cabin 953.
Right, that's enough ship-fever prattling for one day, I'm currently brewing a Pot Noodle and off to do some planning for tomorrow's drive...
This post was composed at 19:30 on Monday 24th March from N 46.28230°, W 04.09842° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:46.28230%2C-04.09842