They say that travelling broadens the mind. I think it narrows our focus onto the things that bring us comfort in our lives. Wherever we are in the world, we are still the same people with the same thought processes, problems and passions. We can still have a panic attack in a crowd whether it’s in the local Tesco or a grand UNESCO site. It's been almost three weeks and to be honest, I still can't believe we made it to France. This is the story of how we got there.
We’d not left the UK since October 2017. For the last two years, I didn’t even have a valid passport. It was yet another thing on the list for one day but not really a priority for several reasons, the first being the obvious matter of expense. We all know that travelling does not come cheap, especially so when you have a disability which I will come to in a little while. Adding to the fact that we live in the far-flung westernmost point in Wales which is miles away from everything, our overseas travel options include a small local airport that offers private chartered flights at great cost, or a ferry that travels to Ireland a few times a day. Last time we checked a ticket on that ferry including the things that we need medically would cost more than £500. So, to that avail, travelling for us since 2017 has been predominantly by road. Starting in the middle of the night and ending late in the day such as the many trips we have taken to the Scottish Highlands over recent years. Yet with Scotland now becoming increasingly on trend even in the winter (no thanks to the sheer level of Instagram, TikTok and other social media emphasis), we were both ready for something different.
Our last time flying in 2017 was from Luton airport; a harrowing experience before the days of hidden disability awareness. Due to overnight flight restrictions, the airport lounge was extremely cramped and overcrowded, with no seats, and people everywhere. I’d gone to the disabled bathroom to get some space as I’d felt sick only to come out to a smartly tailored woman with a walking stick glaring at me as she had barked “What are YOU doing in there?!”. I’d mumbled in response, 'I’m disabled, you see…'. Before I could explain she had smirked and haughtily told me that I was preventing disabled people from using their bathrooms. I was already feeling quite unwell, so simply showed her my medical documentation that I carry when I travel and politely told her that she needed to refine her perception of disability. This was before the signs had appeared stating that ‘not every disability is visible'*. Once our flight had eventually left, we were both completely exhausted by the entire experience. Returning home, we both vowed to never fly from that airport again.
(*We did receive a written apology from Luton Airport surrounding this experience and shortly after they began to display hidden disability signs).
The Judge...
It was when we got our van earlier this year, also known as 'The Judge', that we both realised how different travelling could be with our own space and comforts. The little things like being able to travel with your own toilet, your own blankets, your kettle, your chairs, your bikes. All of the things that give you comfort and take you away from these overcrowded and at times, negative communal experiences. I don’t think van life is fully explored through this lens. Often it has more to do with the depiction of a free-spirited or nomadic lifestyle, being cool and being able to get away from it all in a forestry car park off the A9. But for us, having the Judge has been more than taking on this stereotype. Sometimes, the Judge is the only place where we can escape, even more so than home. We sit in the back with her curtains drawn and not a single person can see us. If the outer world becomes loud and busy (as is often the case) we can simply move on to a new place. The Judge offers privacy, comfort and psychological safety. For this reason, wherever we travel, the Judge is now our first choice, always.
It took seven years...
Fast forward from 2017, here we now were on a very dark and early morning in September 2024. We had decided on France. It felt to be a gentle re-introduction to going overseas and to get there we were taking the ferry from Portsmouth to Caen. I know that this sounds completely standard but this was quite the moment for us. Neither of us had travelled by ferry since we were teenagers; J to France and me to Belgium. I’d never been to France before, I had no idea what was coming in transit or at the other side. I didn’t know if we would be sick (as everyone said about ferries), I had no idea whether people would be rude or if I’d need to wear a tailored shirt or speak broken French out of respect. We were very much venturing into the unknown with only the disjointed stereotypes and fragmented internet discourse to inform us.
We had to wait a while for this trip. Firstly, for the summer season to be well and truly over so we could ensure that the experience would be as stress-free as possible. With the holiday season now extending well into the depths of September here in Pembrokeshire, this was a fine balance between avoiding the crowds and avoiding the wild storms that arrive as soon as autumn is here.
Finding space away from other people is often the only way of being able to do the things that ‘normal’ people do without any further thought. Imagine being in a queue or a crowded place where you can literally feel the intensity of the noise screaming at you, the rising heat from other people, the pain of their eyes staring at you which only becomes more intense if you begin to display any signs of anxiety. I don’t think a lot of people believe us when we try to explain these sensory aspects of social anxiety or the days of rumination that follow. A lot of people feel uncomfortable in crowded places so they perhaps believe that those of us ‘making a fuss about it’ are seeking a privilege or something. Only this week, Kemi Badenoch launched her attack on autistic people stating that we have 'advantages'. Believe me, Badenoch, try to walk a day in our shoes and you'll soon be getting your spin to pack that statement away. There is a huge difference between feeling uncomfortable and being completely overwhelmed to the point of distress. It can take hours to come down from these events, at times resulting in trips to see a doctor. That is not something that I would wish on anyone.
For this reason, trips such as this are not only about waiting for the quieter times but also waiting for funds to allow the adjustments and assurances of space. We had booked a Commodore ticket that came with a spacious cabin and priority disembark so you are parked in the first rows to get off at the other side. I can honestly say that it was worth every single additional penny. We also needed to do a little work on the Judge to ensure that she was road-ready for Europe. She’s an older girl with a few hallmarks of age such as a disintegrated front tyre and her rear air suspension packed in just a week before we were due to leave. So we had to spend a little and plan a lot to do this trip and we knew it would be a while before we’d get to do such a thing again. This is why making it to France was such a big moment for us. It took us seven years to do this trip for one reason and another. Leaving the country is not that easy, and for many of us, it's not that commonplace. The ferry and the Judge changed everything for us.
Notes from the ferry...
Being searched
It happened to us both ways and it wasn’t terrible. You read horror stories but our experience of being searched was simply a quick check and one or two questions about what we had inside the van. The check itself involved a quick request for us to get out of the van while they looked inside (in France). Arriving back in the UK, they just wanted to look inside the back of the van. It took not more than a few minutes and the customs staff were very friendly on both sides. UK border force also had the sunflower sign displayed clearly, stating that they support those with hidden disabilities - a refreshing change from 2017.
They’re not cruises
Perhaps not an obvious association, but ferry travel is much calmer than a cruise. First, there isn’t a guarantee of thousands of people. Second, unlike a cruise, you don’t have everyone in one place for the same reason. For many people, the ferry is just the mode of transport whether it’s ferrying freight for work, ferrying children for a school trip, or ferrying something else.
Ferries today are becoming a bit more like cruises in terms of what they offer onboard, e.g. the restaurants, the cinema, the entertainment, but they aren’t the same because you can be onboard with next to no one around as we found during a very quiet crossing on the way home. For those who like that cruise experience but perhaps want a quieter ride, I’d recommend taking a ferry trip for this reason. They're not cruises.
The toilets are going to be disgusting
I’ll keep this brief, ferry toilets can be disgusting. They don’t have the best flushing system which was shown when I briefly visited the public toilets towards the end of a very rough crossing. In rough tides, it’s to be expected that some of us are going to be hurling up the croissants, but honestly, after the turd in the cupboard incident in Scotland (I don’t know whether I ever told that story), this was a light touch. So, if you don’t have a cabin with your own bathroom you may just need to find a quieter toilet block, or hope for the best and brave it out with either a face mask or a stealth bladder on this one.
The staff are mostly amazing
Me and J were both astonished by the level of service on our ferry trip. It was beyond anything we’ve been used to. While we were sitting out on deck in the rain about to leave Portsmouth, we’d only just finished our drinks when a man appeared and offered to take the empty cups from us. This was in the pelting rain stood at the back of the ship, nowhere near the actual restaurant. We offered to dispose of them ourselves, but he was having none of it. It truly was next-level customer service.
The same can be said for the service we received in our cabin. The Commodore service is absolutely spot on. Food arrives before you’ve even begun to imagine what it tastes like and anything needed is there in the moment you need it. We don’t expect nor want to be waited on hand and foot, I always feel a sense of guilt about it. But the staff were honestly amazing and so friendly. The only time we experienced anything different was when we got told off which I will come to shortly, but that wasn’t at fault of the staff member concerned. We just needed an out in a wild moment.
Sickness isn’t a guarantee (even in rough weather)…
It’s often assumed that when you go on a ferry you’re going to be sick— when I told people we were going to do this trip this was the first reason others gave as not wanting to go on a ferry. I get it, I have been sick before now on ferry crossings as a teenager and we did have quite a rough crossing back from France. We knew it was coming, the weather app I use showed high wind and waves, but as we left port you would have thought the prediction was wrong (see the sunrise in the video at the end).
We were sailing for around an hour when we hit the rough weather. We were out on deck when a thick shroud of sea mist suddenly surrounded us. The ferry then started to sway from side to side, forward and back. That mist was eerie, the visibility so poor that you could only see the waves below and shapes in the very near distance. Some children came and told us that their sisters were being sick. Inside was like an apocalypse. There were no passengers in the shop or communal areas, only the odd person sat in the seating area. We fared reasonably well with it. I’ll admit that being inside the shop was a bit disorientating while trying to focus on a shelf as everything was swaying, but it was more a case of utilising core strength to keep balance...
We went back to the cabin to get a view. By this point, we felt a bit woozy (as though a few too many drinks) but when lying flat the swaying became quite comforting and actually sent me to sleep. We didn’t need anti-sickness medication on either sailing. That said, this was only the channel crossing and we are yet to sail the dreaded Bay of Biscay which many warn me is another story. We'll see. But the point of this point is that yes, you may be sick, you may feel a bit weird, but when the waves get rough it’s not a guarantee that you need medication or are going to end up in a toilet. Again, being on a ferry is far less social than a plane. If you do feel sick there is plenty of space to move around or find a horizon to look at, and failing that if you are going to be sick there are ample places to go and get it over with. This ferry had sick bags available on almost every corridor. You’re well-supplied and you won’t have the awkwardness of a stranger sitting right next to you while belching into a bag.
…but you may end up stuck indoors
We were snoozing in our cabin when the announcement came over the tannoy;
"All passengers to remain inside, all decks prohibited!"
This part wasn’t easy, I’ll admit. Being able to get outside is my deepest calm when stressed out and we had chosen the ferry to have the freedom to do so. I understand the reasoning behind it, safety first and all of that, but unfortunately, the command lasted the duration of our journey back, even once the waves had calmed and we were sailing without swaying once again.
I’ll be completely honest, I’m like a caged animal when kept indoors so when we wandered around to the side doors and saw some other passengers out on the deck, we walked out too. I needed to vape, and could see that others were having a smoke so fair game, right? Wrong. This was the part where we got told off. We must have blown it for everyone else as almost immediately after we’d got out, a stern French woman followed shouting out onto deck...
“All of you, in - now!”
It was like being on a school trip. She was absolutely furious. I completely understand that she was following health and safety protocol and just doing her job. I also know that we shouldn't have been out there and I wouldn’t suggest breaking the rules like we did. But what I will say is this. There are times when we need to be outside and there are times on ferries when it may not be possible. If you do need to do something that usually happens outside there are ways and things that can make that happen very discreetly. What I will also say, is that towards the end of the journey as we were almost coming into port the doors to the upper decks were opened (there was no tannoy announcement about this) but the side decks had remained closed. So, if one way out is barricaded, keep having a look around as the chances are you will be able to get out eventually even if it’s on another part of the ship at a later part in the journey.
Check your prices before travelling.
Just a practical note on duty-free shopping. We’ve all been sold the duty-free is cheap line for years and years now, but it’s just not the case. The thing with ferry travel and probably similar to the duty-free cart on planes, is that we’re already thinking in holiday mode and more often than not we don’t have data or Wifi access to check prices before purchasing. It’s a captive process and on a plane, I can only imagine it’s even more pressured when you have two rows of people beside you watching you buy some Armani Code.
In a ferry shop, however, there isn’t that social pressure. It's just that the prices are not that cheap. My favourite scent on the ferry shelf was £49.99, currently £33.99 on Amazon. I knew that already but without Wi-Fi I had no way of checking any prices for other perfumes, so I didn’t trust them. So, whether it’s scents or Bensons that you’re looking for, make a list of what you want before you travel and write down the prices in your phone beforehand. I know it’s a bit of a boring thing to do when in holiday mode but doing so can save a fair few pennies for things and experiences beyond smelling like an overpriced rose.
Wi-Fi access
Having no Wi-Fi was actually one of the things that I really enjoyed. I know that this is not exclusive to ferry travel, but when combined with all of the additional comforts I’ve already mentioned, it really did become an opportunity to relax. There was no temptation to check Twitter or Apple News, no urge to send snippets of information or ‘guess what just happened’ moments to the family WhatsApp group. Without Wi-Fi, we were able to fully relax into the experience and find some time to read which was needed.
We were so busy doing various things throughout the days we were in France, there had not been any time to stop like this. By the time we came to travel home, we were both looking forward to just having a few hours to ourselves with no outer world distractions or things to do. This is partly why I’ve written so much about the ferry, in many ways it was the holiday. With Commodore cabins, you are allocated an hour of free Wifi access, but once you sign into it you have to use it up within that hour. Outside of that, you can pay for it if you need or want to but I didn’t check the prices.
We both found that the time passed really quickly on both ferry crossings. Whether that was the novelty of something new, the space of having time for ourselves, or just simply being at sea with so many different sensations and sights that you don’t get to experience every day, there was never really a moment when I felt that I needed to connect. Even during the lock-in, there was something quite voyage-ish about cosying up in the cabin with a little window, a hot chocolate and my current read (Ken Follett - The Evening and the Morning), while the ship swayed side to side. It felt like being in an old tale that was once lived but never read. Switching off only added to this story.
The birds
My final note to add about the ferry (although there will probably be more because it’s all I’ve bloody spoken about), is really just to talk about the birds (not the bees, but there is a story about that and it's not rude). As we were leaving the UK there were so many gulls circling overhead. They followed us right out of port and stayed with us for a while. I’m not one of those posh nature writers so you’re not going to get a swallows gracing our presence through the gentle sway of the wind type of note here. I just thought that they were beautiful and watched them for a while. They seemed to be with us for the duration of the crossing.
Out on deck, they would just hover above, looking for food and to be honest, I don’t blame them as this ferry had some remarkable food on offer. As we were arriving in France, I looked out of the cabin window and there was an entire flock of gulls alongside us. It felt so calming to see this in the moment when we were about to venture out into a new place, an entirely different country and an adventure that was many miles from home.
Whenever I am anxious, I always notice the birds. I remember being at an event with J some years ago where I wasn't coping well, but we were under a tree of ravens. People kept asking us whether we minded the noise, whether they were bothering us, and the like. But on that day the birds were another element of escape and calm. Birds don’t expect a conversation or social norms to be followed. Birds are everywhere and anywhere living out their lives and coexisting with us. They are relaxing to watch, and they fly alongside us whether that’s on the coastal paths of home, or the middle of the sea. The ferry birds were another way that I was able to centre my mind away from all of the things that I was apprehensive about about, the worry of the unknown. Knowing that I’d soon need to leave the privacy and safety of this cabin and go out there to this big new place.
This was only the beginning of our journey, homage to the birds for being there with us.
(Music credit. 'Gone for Awhile' by Tommy McCormick)
Life is wild enough before we even venture out of the door. That's why me and J seek quiet places and share our stories about them. We all need an escape from this world.
If you like what you're seeing and reading here, subscribe to our mailing list and whenever there is a new story to be told, we'll share it with you.
Comments