A second night at the Hotel L’Univers in Arras was followed by a early breakfast to permit one more visit before Eurotunnel beckoned; La Coupole.

My memory jogged by a Google search for “Second World War history near me” a couple of nights before, I remembered that La Coupole was somewhere I had long wanted to visit and was bang on our route.  Perfect. 

Quite literally “The Cupola”, it was built by slave labour under German occupation in the latter part of the war as a V bomb factory and launch site.  The location was chosen not only because of being an open cast mine with adjacent hill suitable for constructing a factory in a rabbit’s warren of tunnels, but there was a railway line on which to supply parts and it was inside the relatively short range of V1 and V2 rockets for hitting London.  It was just days from being operational when after multiple unsucessful attempts by the Allies to destroy it (the thick reinforced concrete Cupola itself withstanding direct hits from enormous ordnance), the liberation of Northern France thankfully put paid to the German plans.  The Wikipedia page on the facility is well worth reading.

A final ride on flowing roads with light traffic followed, before in seemingly no time we were at Eurotunnel in truly scorching heat, queuing to enter.  Thank heavens I had put sun cream on my neck, this being the only exposed skin when riding. 

After 40 minutes or so we were checked in and with the offer of an earlier train accepted – which meant riding straight to the boarding lanes rather than a pause in the holding area.  The heat coming off the tarmac was phenomenal itself, never mind the sun itself beating down, so with the engine water temperature needle above where it normally is although still well below the red zone I decided to switch the engine off in the final queue to board.

Several minutes later it was time to move.  No matter how much the starter motor cranked, for the first time ever the engine refused to start.  Heat soak meant the fuel had evaporated from the four carburettors and I had made the schoolboy error of leaving the ignition live and the headlamp and tailamp on whist we’d waited, draining the small battery of precious juice. 

Another Grand Tour Moment – and I could even hear James May saying “Oh cock!” in his inimitable style.

With the cranking speed now tailing off rapidly I decided to stop trying and still sitting astride the saddle, paddle the bike with my feet for the 100 metres to the boarding ramp.  Having already been cooking hot before starting, you can imagine how I felt at the end of it – never mind the sight we must have looked for people in the the long queue of cars behind! I was impressed with the speed we picked up though – about 4MPH / 6KPH!

At the top of the ramp I stopped to allow the vehicles in front to leave, and then with the bike in first gear, the ignition on but the lights all off, freewheeled down until I had a good speed and then fed the clutch in.  Phew.  The engine started within half a second – and the queue in front meant I could leave it running to put some juice back in the battery.

Would it start in Dover?  Yes.  On the button!

A largely motorway ride home followed before the final fun through the countryside and journey’s end at 16:25hrs on July 23rd.  2,721 miles / 4,379 km safely under the wheels, we were back as planned in time for Mum’s birthday the next day.  Before then, cleaning the trusty bike with a willing helper and then enjoying a delicious welcome home dinner with Mum and Dad.

What an amazing, amazing trip within our European trip from Sri Lanka.  Misa and I are still high from it over a month later and planning the next one.  

Steve