On an unassuming road, a small sign marks the front line in Sept 1916. It was so quiet and peaceful. Like God has turned the volume down. As you would in a place of remembrance. In 4 hrs I would be on the ferry, suitably humbled by the memories of the people who spent time in Hell so that I could enjoy a trip like this. I for one will not mumble a curse to the old people in the queue in front of me at the Post Office in the future.