European Odyssey: Orne Nature Walk and D-Day Sites

As with the previous day, today there were three options among which we had chosen earlier. There was an 8:30 departure for a full day tour of the Normandy coast and D-Day beaches, a 9:00 departure that began with a hike in the Baie de l'Orne Nature Preserve and then moved on to the D-Day beaches, and a 9:30 departure again for the Normandy coast and D-Day beaches. Joan and I began this busy day with the hike.

Here we approach the Orne Nature and Estuary Visitor Center. The exhibits were not open yet.

In the center bottom of the map below, just to the left of the label "Sallenelles," is the location of the museum. We're preparing to take our nature/birding hike along the estuary of the Orne and among its wetlands.

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The museum aspires to be child-friendly, and the outside was sprinkled with fanciful sculptures large and small.

A sign gave us an overview of the walking trails, marked as red lines.

We set out with a blustery west wind on our left, and soon were subjected to a rain squall. Our guide, dressed in a suit jacket and leather shoes, maintained his professional attitude and forged on with us, even though his umbrella was of little use. Afterwards the weather slowly improved and I began to take pictures again. Here is one view of the wetlands.

You never know what you'll find on a shoreline ...

The wind continued for a while after the rain stopped; it helped to dry us out but kept the air chilly until our halfway point.

There were several bird blinds from which to observe the fall migrants and the year-round residents. This picture shows how the boat docks and lighthouse are just on the other side of the low dune.

The sun began to warm us and the landscape. The dunes hosted bushes that bore blackberries, or similar berries, and several of us sampled them as we meandered through the alleys created by the foliage.

Here Doug Gualtieri, a Lindblad naturalist, makes a point about a feather.

The sunshine grew stronger and coaxed out this butterfly.

There was an abundance of snails clinging to the beach grasses, but for some reason I didn't take a picture of them. We returned to the museum briskly, along a different path.

We briefly toured the exhibits of the museum, after having walked several miles, but soon it was time to visit the Pegasus Bridge, and our group climbed into the bus. This nearby historic bridge was seized by British paratroopers in the early morning hours of D-Day.

Parked just off one side of the bridge is a British tank, the Centaur variant of the Cromwell.

Here is the newer version of the bridge. The original is preserved in a museum.

A brief history is on this plaque. "Ham and Jam" was the code signal that the bridge had been taken.

The patch of grass that the British gliders landed on was tiny; it was an amazing feat of flying in the dark. No small portion of luck was involved, I'm sure. Here is a public domain photo of the gliders of Operation Deadstick, the code name for this airborne assault.

The three different Lindblad groups rendezvoused at the Château la Chenevière for lunch. Ours got there first. The Château is impressive from the front,

but the grounds and tended trees are just as spectacular. I'm glad this next photo has people in it to give the proper scale.

The lunch was the site of a small personal triumph and an embarrassment. Seated at a circular table of about ten, I was asked to pass a wine bottle. I did so with my right hand, but I clipped the top of my half-full/half-empty wine glass, and it began to topple. With my left hand I snatched it by the bowl, spilling only a small amount of wine on my plate, but the momentum of the glass broke the stem. I sat there, stunned, holding a wine glass with no stem. My quick reaction and avoidance of a major spill left me with a pleasant sense of accomplishment. However, a few minutes later I was sopping up some of the gravy and wine mix that was left on my plate, cutting the soaked bread -- should have been using my fingers -- when the knife slipped. Wine-colored fluid spattered all over the front of my shirt. I was properly humbled. (That night I gave the shirt a soak in cold water, and it came clean in the wash when I got home.)

The next destination for our group was Omaha Beach, and particularly the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial.
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This view of the memorial is from the back, along the pool leading to the cemetery.

There are detailed multi-story plaques on either side of the memorial. This one describes the initial landings.

You can also study an overview of the month-long Normandy campaign.

The cemetery is extensive; over 9,000 U.S. soldiers and airmen are buried there. As with other U.S. military cemeteries in France, the land is leased in perpetuity to the United States with no fees or taxes. Not having much time to wander, Joan and I sought out the graves of two Roosevelts. Theodore Roosevelt Jr. was the oldest man in the invasion, and the only general to land by sea with his troops. He passed away from a heart attack only weeks later.

Next to him is the only veteran of the First World War buried here, his brother Quentin Roosevelt, an aviator who died in the earlier war.

Omaha Beach was the scene of the worst fighting of the five beaches (Sword, Gold, Juno, Omaha, and Utah). For a while on June 6, 1944 the outcome of this landing was in doubt. The American troops faced entrenched German troops on a bluff above the beach and, to avoid Rommel's beach obstacles, landed at low tide. This photograph is taken, looking east, from the top of the bluff before we walked down  to the beach.

Today the beach wears an entirely different face than it did almost 70 years ago, the scars of war having been erased by time, but the feeling of struggle still envelops it like an invisible mist. Here is one photo from our beach walk to the west. If it isn't low tide, as it was during the landings, it's close.

A bit later the sun colored the sand more warmly. This picture reminds me, from an utterly different context, of recent pictures from Curiosity, the Mars rover.

On down the beach, beyond the memorial grounds, we rejoined our bus and headed for Sainte-Mère-Église. Upon our arrival we were welcomed by staff from the Explorer, offering apples and classic Normandy sparkling apple cider. The sweeter variety, cidre doux, is only 2.5%-4% alcohol and very thirst quenching. I was ready to sneak several bottles home with me.

Sainte-Mère-Église is perhaps best known for the nighttime paratroop drop preceding D-Day. The townspeople and the German garrison were out and awake fighting a fire when two planeloads of paratroopers were dropped, in error, directly over the town. Most of the illuminated paratroopers were quickly shot. One, John Steele, snagged on the church steeple and survived by playing dead for a couple of hours. Today an effigy commemorates the event (click on the photo to enlarge).

The church has traditional stained glass, but two windows remind us of the events of 1944. Here the Virgin Mary and Child are surrounded by descending paratroopers.

This window displays the insignia of the units involved; it was dedicated on the 25th anniversary (1969).

This photograph looks towards the altar in the church.

Also near the church is a road marker, a mile marker, from Roman times. Recorded history is remarkably deep here. I doubt that the cross on top originated with the Romans.

This plaque, in French, identifies the marker, or borne. If a Roman mile was indeed 1481 meters, that's about 92% of an American mile. The final phrase means, "All roads lead to Rome."

There is an Airborne Museum across the parking area from the church,

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but there was no time to visit. Our road now led to Cherbourg, towards which the Explorer had been sailing while we spent the day ashore. While boarding for a late dinner, I paused to grab a picture of this channel ferry, the Normandie Express. That might be a fun ride!

Overnight we would sail to St. Malo, with an early departure for Mont-Saint-Michel.