Swimming both sides of the English Channel

I made my way north to Amiens, and found a nice 20 yr old girl who teacheds French to British students inTourquay, England. She and brother Gunther rode with me for 45 minutes on the train, talked about the chips on the shoulder of the French toward others, and the same in other parts of Europe (maybe it's cause it's called the English Channel, not the French Channel!!). Got to Calais, where I was told this is the stop for the Channel Ferry, and it wasn't! It was the next stop. Four uniformed policemen, the same ones who said this is the stop, pointed me the way to take my bike down 20 stairs to the street (finally one offered help). I made it an adventure through the light rain to the town of Calais, where I was helped by Raymond Bowers and his wife to navigate my way to the Ferry. Before I left, I went for a swim in the French side of the channel, chilly but sweet, love the salty water.
At the ferry I was directed to take lane 199, with, motorcycles. Here's the dorky girl from Montana, no, it's the strong trekking woman from Montana, who gets to line up with the touring motorcycles! I asked the two men in line, Do you speak English? and in their British accent they replied, All the time!! There was some fog going across, and then the white cliffs of Dover came into view. How sweet to see something before you you've seen in books all your life.
Saturday morning I bought some supplies and checked out ways to find biking routes through England. Now, 5 days later, I find the best is to use a good map (I bought an Ordance one for 50 pence in Salvation Army in Folkestone, saved some money and it was the exact one I needed!) and ask questions. When I ask directions, I repeat them back, then there is less chance I get lost. This place is very wooded and it's hard to see the forest for the trees, it's closed in like Pennsylvania and it's difficult to see what's ahead or around the bend.
So off through the country and along the southern coast of England. I swim in this side of the Channel, and ask a Brit, why is it the English Channel and not the French, cause it's between both? He said confidently, Cause we own it!! I made my way along the coast, stayed in Lydd for the night, and made my way to Rye for Sunday breakfast. Chanced a cafe in the town square where motorcyclists meet every Sunday for a ride and breakfast. Walked through the town and enjoyed old shops, book shops, antique stores and 200 year old buildings along cobblestone streets. Off through Hastings, where the famous battle of 1066 took place, through Bexhill and down the wrong cycle trail to meet a 65 yr old man who said, Follow me, I'll show you the way. When he explained there were hills between us and Eastbourne, I said How about coffee and a pastry? He shrieked, Pastry??!! So I said I need to eat, how 'bout fish and chips? He said, that's a little better! He led me up the first of three formidable hills, overlooking the sea near Eastbourne, and said I'll be going back now, you'll find your way. He never faltered going up that beast of a hill, and I stayed behind him with my heavy gear. I did push my bike up the second hill tho, tough going and worth the view.
I made it into Seaford and set up camp in a caravan park, then went for a 1/2 pint in a pub featuring live jazz music. Met Mike and Elaine, boisterous happy laugh and he said Your money's no good in here! and he bought me a brew, local beer from up the street. We talked books and WW2 and Dad, and he promised to correspond. Delightful people!
I've worked my way further acoss the south of England, including the Isle of Wight, where I found Joe's Cafe, fitting since I promised to mail Joe a card from there. I'm in Bournemouth and will head north in this unseasonable heat to Salisbury, Avebury and Glaastonbury, for circles of ancient stone and ancient life in Britain.