We set off today and cheated slightly by catching a train to Ramsgate to ensure we made the only ferry that operates on a Sunday. Still snowing, with bitter winds so cold, you could get whip-lash from such severe shivering; nature just wasn't going to let up.
Arriving at the ferry port, we somehow managed to convince the first person with a free backseat we encountered, after only being there for five minutes. Dot and her husband Mick became our first lift of the hitch, who even though they only technically drove us five-hundred metres, are responsible for us making it a few hundred kilometres to Oostende in Belgium.
During the five-hour long ferry trip, the seas were quite choppy, so moving around was like walking while extremely drunk. People on board, learning we were planning on camping out tonight, started to mess with our heads. Dot was telling us the family member they were visiting had warned them there was a foot of snow covering Belgium, and another passenger claimed that temperatures have been reaching minus twenty degrees in parts of Germany, but it turns out not to be as cold as England here. We found our way to a youth hostel, instead of braving the night outside, all the same.