The train ride back to Lille

     4:00 is an ugly hour to rise, considering that the sun won't rise for another four hours. Seven steps to get where I am going. One, ride from the hostel to the Brest train station.  Number two through six, make five train changes.  Seven,  ride from the Lille station to my Hostel.  I pulled it off but it was a fire drill every step of the way.  Remember, my bike fully loaded is about eighty-five pounds and a beast to maneuver up stairs, down escalator and into tight elevators.   Anything to avoid the stairs which meant lifting my bike to a vertical positions in order to shoe horn myself into tight elevators. The escalator was almost as much fun.  Nothing beats going down stairs with both the disc breaks on full, releasing them momentarily to descend to the next step.  The train track isn't announced until fifteen minutes before the train departs; then the contortion act begins. Scoping out the easiest route beforehand helps but the execution is the catch.  Complicating things, the ticket must be stamped by the little yellow machine and the bicycle car must be found.  If it were not for my extroverted nature and my minimal french speaking ability, I would have been up a creek.
    Through the countryside the train, bike and I travelled, stopping at little podunks along the way. Adding to the situation, with all the terrorism going on, the big stations were patrolled by army personnel shouldering machine guns. Not just one or two but six or seven personnel.  With their hand on the trigger, they were scanning the public constantly,  a good/bad feeling.
     Finally, through the busy streets of Lille, after fourteen hours of train travel, I finessed my way to the hostel. The GPS was always a few steps behind and screwing me up along the way.  Don't trust the damn machine!  Alors, I arrived at a large modern building which housed the hostel.  Checked in, my room mate was an American dude, sixty, who was real glad to talk to another American.  He was traveling back to the States from the Philippines where he lives; not by plane but by train, car and bus.  We had a lot in common. Another adventurer like me; we had a grand time comparing notes and bonding. So.....a long day with a lot of variables which thankfully all fell into place.