I left Jean Jacque's early..well it was early for him as he waved me off in his dressing gown and slippers. I rode back over the tiny bridge under a watery sky and turned towards Verdun - about 150 miles away. The bike feels better now as I slowly adjust the luggage around to find the best balance. The weight doesn't seem to affect the fuel economy at all. It showed 129mpg for yesterday's journey. These are remarkable little machines. The French roads suit them. Massive flat landscapes across which the roads stretch as far as the eye can see. Any bends are long and sweeping and I lean through them easily. Always, kilometres in the distance there is a church spire to indicate the next village or town.
The villages are beautiful. Many consist of just a few ancient houses with the shutters closed tight. There's no one around. Even the roads are practically empty. It's as if France has gone to sleep under an evil queen's spell. Talking of evil queen's - Satty is a bitch. There. It had to be said. What demented genius made a satnav that sends you off-road twice in a day, just because the road she fancied was closed?
Not content with her usual trick of sending you in a circle then ending back at the same 'route fermée' sign, she sent me down a mud track used by cows (there was lots of evidence), only to tell me after a mile that I should turn right. Where? Into the field because there certainly wasn't a road. "Perform a U turn" was her next suggestion. No shit, Sherlock.
After I returned for the second time to the now familiar 'route fermée' sign, I decided to just ignore it. I wound around the barriers and was just about to set off when a nice french woman stopped, wound her window down and gesticulated (they are very good at gesticulation), that I should follow her. Five kilometres later I was back on track. Hurrah!
Mais non. La Satty had other plans.
"Turn left." I turned left into a rising dirt track. It continued rising. Well parts of it did. Some parts stayed firmly unrisen. Avoiding the unrisen parts was the tricky bit. The poor bike's suspension struggled to cope with the massive bangs as we slammed into yet another crater.
To well and truly rub it in, the evil Satqueenbitch declared,
"Turn left onto unpaved road and continue for three and a half miles."
So what had I been riding on for the last few miles? Aaargh.
I'll skip to the bit where I pull into the campsite in hot sunshine and get directed to my secluded pitch by the lake.
Relief. Food, hang wet clothes on the hedges. Take the boots off and wear socks - in sandals 😵. Now that's not my normal gear but, oh my feet feel so good.
Which brings me to now. I'm sitting in the reception / bar with my face glowing from the earlier sun, looking out on the torrential thunderstorm going on outside. I'll wait for a break to run to the tent for an early night ready for tomorrow's ride across the border into Germany and Offenburg.
The villages are beautiful. Many consist of just a few ancient houses with the shutters closed tight. There's no one around. Even the roads are practically empty. It's as if France has gone to sleep under an evil queen's spell. Talking of evil queen's - Satty is a bitch. There. It had to be said. What demented genius made a satnav that sends you off-road twice in a day, just because the road she fancied was closed?
Not content with her usual trick of sending you in a circle then ending back at the same 'route fermée' sign, she sent me down a mud track used by cows (there was lots of evidence), only to tell me after a mile that I should turn right. Where? Into the field because there certainly wasn't a road. "Perform a U turn" was her next suggestion. No shit, Sherlock.
After I returned for the second time to the now familiar 'route fermée' sign, I decided to just ignore it. I wound around the barriers and was just about to set off when a nice french woman stopped, wound her window down and gesticulated (they are very good at gesticulation), that I should follow her. Five kilometres later I was back on track. Hurrah!
Mais non. La Satty had other plans.
"Turn left." I turned left into a rising dirt track. It continued rising. Well parts of it did. Some parts stayed firmly unrisen. Avoiding the unrisen parts was the tricky bit. The poor bike's suspension struggled to cope with the massive bangs as we slammed into yet another crater.
To well and truly rub it in, the evil Satqueenbitch declared,
"Turn left onto unpaved road and continue for three and a half miles."
So what had I been riding on for the last few miles? Aaargh.
I'll skip to the bit where I pull into the campsite in hot sunshine and get directed to my secluded pitch by the lake.
Relief. Food, hang wet clothes on the hedges. Take the boots off and wear socks - in sandals 😵. Now that's not my normal gear but, oh my feet feel so good.
Which brings me to now. I'm sitting in the reception / bar with my face glowing from the earlier sun, looking out on the torrential thunderstorm going on outside. I'll wait for a break to run to the tent for an early night ready for tomorrow's ride across the border into Germany and Offenburg.
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