Kent: EuroTunnel - Sept 2012

We were on our way back direction home after spending time on K's farm in Wales and as the distance is about 1000 km we usually stop off over night some where in Kent before over or under crossing the channel.
This time it was in Hawkhurst-Kent (see Elizabethan Shower). It was the next morning and we were making our way cross country to Ashford to find a super Tesco to fill the car with goodies before leaving the country. There was a tail back on to the motorway at the exit and it took time finding our way around the car park. Tesco was full! Okay it’s the biggest in the area but I still can’t get used to so much buying on a Sunday morning.
Then we were off to the EuroTunnel. Thinking about it, as the Brits gave a lot of money towards the project, it’s a wonder they didn’t want to call it 'SterlingTunnel'.

When you arrive at the terminal most of the gates are not manned. You drive up to the barrier stick the credit card used to buy the ticket in the slot or enter your transaction code. Well both didn’t work, nothing happened, I started to panic with a line of cars behind increasing in length by the second. I pushed the panic/assistance button as well as my own. I was immediately spoken to with 'Mr. S.' which surprised me, but it showed that at least my credit card had been read correctly if nothing else. I explained what was not happening with card and code.
What came next was slightly surrealistic, after a slight pause an astonished voice said
“But Mr. S this is your outward journey!?”
I, knowing which side of the English Channel we was on, said “No, this is our return journey”.
To which the still astonished voice said “We have no documentation that you used your outward bound ticket!”
“Interesting”, I said, ”Still, even if we never arrived, we would very much like to leave...”

A dummy ticket with no definable time and on closer inspection no 'don’t panic' on the back, was spitted out of a slot accompanied with a set of apologies followed by a 'we must go to the ticket office immediately to get a proper ticket for our crossing'. This we promptly did by pulling away without breaking the speed limit, accompanied with another set of apologies fading in the distance.

On arriving at the shopping/office area, we found the desk and repeated the conversation we had at the terminal. This opened a new flood gate of apologies mixed with bewilderment. It seems that this type of problem was very rare if not a first. We received a proper ticket and before we left I had the effrontery to ask for my money back for the outward journey as we never officially arrived.
This was received with an open mouth and blank look, which I took as negative. I knew it wouldn’t work; I just had to see the reaction.
In the days of almost total surveillance we had entered the country without ’entering the country’ and nobody noticed until we tried to leave, pretty weird.

I think I know what may have happened.
We had a bit of a problem at the Calais terminal the week before. There are two terminal types when you drive up, for left- and right-handed cars. I of course chose the wrong one, which was normal as I have problems with left and right and invariably get it wrong. When driving I need tactical indicators as well as audio ones which is why H has to wave her hand in front of my face while directing. This could be dangerous, but one has to weigh up the chance of an accident or never turning up where we want to go.
H pushed the credit card into the slot ok, but she had difficulty reading the instructions due to sunlight reflecting on the terminal screen. After touching the screen in various places the card appeared as well as a strip of paper with our next co-ordinates on it. This was dutifully as per instructions hanged on the rear-view mirror. This indicated to us that even being half blinded; H had hit all the right places in the right order.
After retrieving the credit card we waited for the barrier to rise, which it didn’t. I thought I had to move up to it to trigger it in some way. So I did, but still no budging.
Maybe I had to somehow to 'wake it up' so I got out went around to H’s side of the car and shoved the credit card in the slot. It went in and immediately came out again as if rejected.
It did the trick as the barrier started to move up. I grabbed the card and in rally driving mode ran completely around the car jumped in the open driver's door and with a flying start we were off.
As we had arrived way too early for our booked flight, we had picked an earlier train to cover our 'tracks' this, and probably the second attempt with the credit card, may have confused the poor machine. I hope they have reprogrammed it in the mean time.

The way to the train is long and windy. You follow hand signals from lonely staff standing in a labyrinth of parallel endless roads running up and down bridges. There is so much doubling back you lose any sense of direction. Getting on the train is for me always stress, doubly so when I have to drive up onto the top deck, which was this time in both directions.

You cannot book up or down, there is no choice in the matter, its just luck. The picture sequence below gives you an idea of the boarding. The train is long, looks like a tin can, everything is grey including the engine, which was the ugliest I’ve ever seen.

The ramp is narrow and there is a lot of screeching of tyres on the floor when turning even very slow. One waits until the car in front is at the top of the ramp before following, it’s safer that way. The drive through the train is like entering a very long car wash, you have about 25-30 cm left and right, one has to stare straight ahead (well I do) and make sure one doesn’t drift to one side.

Every now and then there is a 'bump' in the wall on one side, it’s the stairs to the other level and/or toilets, at this point the track optically shifts away from the 'bump' and then back again (see yellow circle right).
The thing is not to lose your nerve and just carry on straight as possible and not get distracted, the space on the 'bump' side is reduced, but it you are in the middle of the track you won’t notice it. You get the knack after hitting the 'curb' now and then. Eventually one catches up with the vehicle in front, at the latest when it stands in front of closed doors.

The next bit mirrors the compact parking procedure as on boats (see Crossing the English Channel). There is always an official someone who wants to see how close he can coax the driver behind to rub bumpers with the one in front. Now with all round distance sensors, one doesn’t have to keep a blind beady eye on the edging-on-gesture (see above); one has acoustic minions to keep the bumping at bay. As soon as the lights start to ripple and flash in my nightrider console, and allergic noises atone from the depths of the car, I brake, and no frantic fluttering of tactile digits will make me budge a millimetre more. He finally gave up and with a grin and moved on to the next car down the line. We felt no tremors, so I take it the car behind was also equipped with high tech gadgets.

We could know relax and I needed to stretch my legs and take a few pictures. There isn’t that much space left or right of the cars, just enough to stand and let unknowledgeable wanderers looking for the cafeteria and gift shop go by. I just nod when they ask / point to one end of the train and after about 10 minutes appear again and I repeat my nod when they ask / point to the other end of the train.
I just don’t have the heart to tell them that the facilities they were looking for are only to be found on boats. It’s a wonder they get back to their cars before we have to get moving.
At least they get some exercise.

After about 20 minutes we arrive indicated with daylight appearing through the windows. The train stops and the carriage doors finally open. Red break lights blink into life as cars motors are started way too early, but we are all now ready and eager to leave. There is a repeat of the car wash drive-in for the rest distance to the exit ramp. As I was driving down the ramp I inadvertently hit the gas instead of the brakes.
It took a couple of seconds (seemed longer) to realise that the bottom of the ramp and the sharp right turn 'down' ahead was getting closer more rapidly than it should. I hit full on the brakes and squeaked to a halt. Rolled the rest, carried out a sharp right turn into blinding broad daylight and we were free!
I must say the two orange jacketed personnel direct in the 'line of fire' at the bottom of the ramp didn’t seem all that perturbed by my manoeuvre, everyday occurrence may I ask? The rest of the trip was uneventful and we were home at 19:00 hrs local time.