Welcome to CubChat - The Forum For Honda Cubs (and Similar Motorcycles)
French trip 2013
Posted by : Bogger (92.234.156.209) 
Inappropriate or SPAM?
On Thursday 08/08/13 at 01:07:09
French Bimble Par Exellence
Finally a holiday on the Cub instead of a marathon endurance event. Really? Read on I’ll let you decide!
It had finally come to pass that we were to have a few days in Brittany, sidle (ha) down to the Dordogne, spend a few days there sightseeing and chilling out then wander (ha) back up to Calais and onto home. We had debated whether to cross at Dover on the way down and ride to Brittany or catch the ferry at Portsmouth or such like. We eventually settled on Poole to Cherbourg on the way there and Calais to Dover via the tunnel on the way back. Sorted.
I’d prepped the Cub as best as I could. New tubes and tyres, tappets done oil changed for some 5/40 fully synthetic (Morrisons Finest) Wheel bearings and sprocket carrier bearings greased and a general good going over. Spares I took were tubes x2, chain, cdi unit, plug, spare tappet cover, set of wheel bearings and sprocket carrier bearing, throttle cable. Small tool bag with all the spanners and sockets I might need. Small drift, pliers, adjustable pipe grip pliers, screw driver x2, small, medium and large knifes, you know just in case. Small tub of grease, a length of locking type wire, small tin of WD40, 400ml Scottoiler chain lube. Various nuts and bolts, tie wraps, split pins and electrical connectors. Wow that sounds like a lot but in actual fact took up very little room.
Me all packed up neatly
Day 1
On Wed the 17 July With all my gear packed, I had tried hard to really condense what I was taking, I set off for Black Country Petes house in Dudlay, that’s Dudley to everyone else. I set off at around 11.15 and took the boring but quick route down the M6. I arrived at Petes around 1.30pm or so. His back garden looked like a cross between a scrap yard and an explosion in a clothes factory. To say he had not quite finished packing was an understatement there was stuff everywhere. It was boiling hot by the way ( IWBH). Whooor Aye wunna expectin yow just yet, yer bugga. Do me tappets for me. What? I’ve never done me tappets and I don’t trust myself so you can do them for me (shocking lack of maintenance). Great thanks for that Pete. Being the consummate mechanic. I had them sorted in ten minutes or so. Lazy, inept Brummie b*******.
Petes scrapyard
]
As he was packing, well stuffing things into bags, I commented on the size of the frying pan he was about to strap to the side of his bulging pannier. ‘Good God Pete, make sure it’s secure. It’s massive’. ‘You’ll not be moaning when we’re having a fry up somewhere in France’ . He then remarked ‘just think if it did fall off can you imagine the carnage’.
‘Well officer, I don’t really know what happened. All I remember is this moped type bike passed me in the outside lane, next thing this frying pan flys through the windscreen and that’s what made me crash, honest. Copper ‘Would you mind blowing into this bag Sir’. Can you imagine the bloke filling out his insurance claim form.
The dreaded frying pan
When Pete was finally happy with his packing ( His bike looked like a ‘Cub’ game of Buckaroo) we set off down the m5 towards Warminster, just South of Bath, to meet up with Nige, JJ and Jason and stay the night in the Travel Lodge. Myself and Pete arrived at about 6.15pm. My speedo cable had snapped on the way down. I blame Petes Clown bike for being too close. After I had booked in James from darn sarf turns up in his works van. James has a bit of a reputation and me and Pete kept a close eye on the bikes just in case they disappeared in the back and he drove off. He promised he would be back later on his Cub to have a chat with us all.
Our arrival at the travel lodge
Jason rang me, he was travelling separately from Nige and JJ.This was basically the conversation. Jason, I’m here, where abouts are you? Me. on the car park. Jason, where are you? Me. On the car park. Jason, no you’re not? Me, Yes I am. Jason, I’m on the car park and I can’t see you. I’m next to the petrol pumps. Me, you’re on the wrong car park, we are on the back car park, stay where you are I’ll come round to you. So I walk through the Hotel to the car park by the petrol pumps. Is he there, like f*** is he there. Me, I can’t see you. Jason. I’m right by the Pumps on the Texaco forecourt. Me, Dickhead you’re at the wrong Travel Lodge. He turned up about twenty minutes later, not in the least bit embarrassed, he is Welsh after all. Bikes unpacked, we had a bite to eat and waited for Nige and JJ to arrive. Luckily the petrol station sold beer, so we purchased a couple of bottles just to re-hydrate ourselves of course. The trouble is when you are from Birmingham or Dudlay as Pete calls it, drinking alcohol on a balmy summers evening can lead to this.
He like a bloody tramp
Shocking lack of underwear!!! Petes left nad makes a break for freedom 
JJ and Nige turn up
Nige and JJ arrive at about the same time as James makes an appearance again and they also start to re-hydrate with us. To be honest we didn’t have a lot to drink as there was an early start in the morning. Myself and Pete decided, as we were on a ground floor, to park our bikes outside the window and chain them up there. The problem was all the windows looked the same. So we chained the bikes together under the window. I asked Pete if he was sure it was the correct window. How shud I know, why don’t yow luck threw the window. I politely refused, he pulled me to one side, this is our room look. As he pushed his nose up against the window he exclaimed f*** me there’s a naked bloke on the bed either asleep or dead. Giggling like two daft school kids we pushed our bikes to the next window, the correct one. Mileage for the day 218mls
Day 2
We were catching the ferry from Poole to Cherbourg at 7.15am. We decided to get up at 4.00am and pack and be away for 5.00 ish to get there for about 6.00am. The ride down in the early morning chill was really refreshing and fun on the A350 down to Poole. This would be the last time we would be cool for the next nine days (FMIWH). Checking in at the Port was a mere formality and we were soon tucking into a bacon butty.
Port check in
The ferry crossing took somewhere between 5 ½ to 6 hrs or so on a sea that was truly like a mill pond. I thought we might get bored on the ferry but the time for me at least passed really quickly. The ferry was nowhere near full. I would guess about half the passengers you would get if going Dover to Calais. Plenty of room and plenty of spare seats. When we rolled off the ferry at the other end you could really feel the difference in temperature (FMIWH). Rather than travel straight down to the camp site at Dol-de-Bretagne we decided to go to St Mere Eglise, then onto one of the American Landing beaches, Utah. St Mere Eglise is where the 101st airbourne troops were dropped by mistake. It’s a lovely little village about 10 miles from the coast. As a tribute to the 101st they have a paratrooper suspended from the church by his parachute, mirroring what actually happened on D Day. After an ice cream and a quick nosey around we headed for Utah beach about 8 miles away.
St Mer Eglise paratrooper
Bikes in the town square
The sun was high in the sky and the temperatures were in the high thirties FMIWH. Utah beach is completely different to Omaha beach. Utah is much flatter terrain. The beach rises slightly to some sand dunes then flattens out straight after. After we had parked the bikes up, still with all the camping gear etc on, we stripped off as much as we could and headed for the museum and outside exhibits.
88mm gun
Sherman tank
Unfortunately time was running short, it was about 4.30pm or so and although we wanted to look around the museum, we still had about 115 or so miles to go to get to the camp site and we did not want to turn up with the reception closed.
Off we set following the main signs for St Malo which would keep us heading in the right direction. We kept off the main roads as much as possible but kept to the faster rods where we could. Cruising speed was around 45-50mph.
Re hydration stop on the way to Dol De Bretagne
after about 2.5hrs we rode into the small town of Dol-de Bretagne and out on the d795 to the Des Ormes campsite 5 miles away. The site was very picturesque, well looked after and utterly massive. It had swimming pools, bars, shops, 18 hole golf course etc etc, which was handy as I’m sure Pete had packed some clubs somewhere on the Clown Bike. Once we had found our pitch and set up we decided to have a few glasses of red wine and French lager. This was to wash down the steak and liver we had for tea. After we went down to one of the onsite bars to converse with the locals, who weren’t local at all but either Belgian, Dutch or English FMIWH. Mileage for the day 192mls
Our pitch at the campsite
Day 3 in the French Cub house
A late rise was called for with, what with all the early starts and biggish mileages we had travelled. We got up around 9.00am and had a lazy start getting our gear etc sorted out. For some bizarre reason Jason had elected not to bring a sleeping and slept under his towel? We sorted breakfast and were ready to go out just before midday. I normally wear my textile biking gear but wore jeans instead due to the heat. If you were on the move it was just about bearable but as soon as you slowed down or stopped sweat just poured out of every orifice. Or to put in more succinctly, sweating like a robbers oss. Today we were heading for Fougeres a medieval town some 35 miles away. As an aside back at the camp site there were lots of ladies walking around with not much clothing on. It was getting difficult to bring to the lads attention that there were these ladies either walking past or close by that merited some ….err attention shall we say ( I know this is a bit sexist in our politically correct society, but you know what I don’t care) without being overtly rude/lecherous. JJ piped up we could do with a code word?? That no one else will bother about but we will understand. Ok JJ like what. JJ replies well it could be anything ..say like asparagus??? So there and then that’s what we settled on. I have to say it got a bit out of hand I won’t go into the full descriptions but of course there was ripe asparagus, fit asparagus, speedy asparagus (on a moped), tinned asparagus ( in a car), asparagus crop ( a group of ladies) you get the drift I have to say It worked in the main keeping us out of trouble. God knows what the French thought. As one of us would pipe up ‘asparagus’ four other heads would pop up and start looking around like Meerkats. Small thing etc.
Any road up, back to Fougeres, the bimbling ride there was very pleasant but FMIWH. We passed through Bambourge a really nice picture post card French town, we got the thumbs up as a group of British riders came past the other way. On we went through Bougeres and Tremblet on the D796 and into Fougeres itself. We stopped at a supermarket and bought ourselves a sandwich and drinks for lunch.
Lunch break outside the Supermarket
The Cubs I have to say were getting a fair amount of attention which is always nice. By the time we had finished lunch and ridden around Fougeres trying to find a decent parking spot we were at melting point it was in the high thirties. We eventually found a place to park near the castle walls stripped off and went for a wander. We wandered as far as the nearest bar and sat down under the large umbrellas in the shade and ordered five cold beers, heaven.
Fougeres
We were tempted by a second beer but thought better of it. A small beer 250ml costs about 2.60 euros, not particularly cheap.
We had a quick mooch about (Asparagus everywhere) and were ready for the off again as we wanted to visit Mont Saint Michel. North ward bound towards the Mount. I’d seen Mont Saint Michele on the coverage of the tour de France and was really looking to getting up close and personal. My hopes were shattered. The closest we could get was about a mile away. Since Niges last visit access had been restricted and it was one of those park and ride affairs to and from. A real disappointment I have to say. Again it was late in the day and we didn’t feel like leaving our bikes and taking the time and effort to get down there. It’s now one of those places where you need a full day to get down and back and see it properly.
Mont St Michele in the distance
Time to head for the camp site. Oh goody, no tents to erect. Nige had promised us he would cook us a green Thai curry for tea that night. We stopped for supplies at Dol de Bretagne on the way back. I like a curry, but nothing too hot or spicy. I was promised that it was neither. Nige had obviously bought his chip pan with him again and the French guys eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw Nige frying up for all of us. Can I just say I like Nige but he’s a lying B******. When eating the curry and indeed the next day I had a Jonny Cash song stuck in my brain. Yes that’s the one ‘Burning ring of fire’. Bloody Welsh. With the weather being so hot we made our own fridge utilising the evaporation method. Why the F*** we used a pair of Petes pants God only knows why. However it was now christened ‘The Pant Fridge’ and it kept the milk/water cheese etc cool all day and stopped it from going off despite the very high temperatures.
The Pant Fridge the skid marks disappeared after two days 
Total miles a mere 90mls.
Day 4
This was to be our last day in Brittany as tomorrow we were heading down to the Dordogne. We were up fairly early and the plan was to head for the coast and the small fishing town of Cancale further on up the coast to the North West. On the way we went to see the oblelisk of Le Champ Dolent.
The run into Cancale reminded me of the steep winding roads of Cornwall as indeed did Cancale itself, a typical small fishing village. It was busy but we managed to find a small place for the bikes which incidentally, were all running perfectly, even Petes bike.
Cancale
The mussel beds
We stripped off again, chained everthing to the bikes and had a walk along the front to the harbour and the bay beyond to see the Mussel beds. The quayside restaurants were heaving. We took a few photos had an ice cream and cans of pop etc then back to the bikes for a trip further round the coast to Port Mer. The sun was burning down and riding was really uncomfortable, even with the reduced amount of gear we had on. Port Mer was nestled in its own little bay with a gently sloping sandy beach down to the water.
Off came the clothes again to reveal shorts, t shirts, and back on with the Crocs. We were all getting a bit hungry, Jason is always hungry and therefore always eating, so we chose which one of the three restaurants, that overlooked the bay, we would eat in. The menu was mainly a fishy one me and JJ had the mussels with chips (moule et fritte). French language? A piece of p***. If they don’t understand say it louder was our motto. Pete umd and arrd and decided on the langoustines. His plate looked like something out of an alien movie. It was really tasty, I’ve had mussels before and they were ok, these were lovely. I think all Pete did was fight with his food..and lost.
Lovely food, Pete about to go ten rounds with his
Port Mer is beautiful
We all had a small 250ml beer to swill it down with. With lunch over it was time for some more sightseeing and onto the riverside town of Dinan and Dinan Port. Here we stopped again and plonked ourselves down by a riverside café and had another iced soft drink (FMIWH). We had parked the bikes right at the side of the river and almost everyone was stopping to take a look. One guy came past with his Mrs saw Nige and Jasons number plates and exclaimed have you come all the way from Wales on those? Naturally came the reply. He was Welsh but now living in Dinan.
Dinan Port
About this time on the opposite bank about 20 or so lads on two stroke mopeds came squalling past in a wave of noise and smoke, good on em. With this being our last day in Brittany we decided to head back for the campsite so we could pack most of our gear away ready for another early start (holiday??? what’s that all about)
As we normally do, we were to stop off at the supermarket in Dol de Bretagne for supplies for tea. We peeled off the roundabout a hundred yards or so from the Supermarket and were pulled in by the police. There were two blokes and a woman. She obviously spoke to us in French we said loudly that we didn’t understand, so she then assumed we were Italian? for some reason. I said, no, English at this point she called one of the other bods over. He asked us for our papers which everyone produced in about 10 seconds flat. V5, passport, insurance, etc. I think this threw them a bit, us being so effiecient. So he had a quick think. I know I’ll breathalyse them. Which is exactly what happened. All clear no reading whatsoever. Ha pi**** on his bonfire. JJ was fuming, absolutely livid at being breathalysed for no reason.
Bloody Gendarmes
He calmed down by the time we got into the supermarket and as a treat bought himself some posh shorts. He put them on, laugh, we wet ourselves he looked like Don Estelle out of ‘ It Aint Half Hot Mum’ all he needed was a pith helmet to finish the look off. We got back to the site and started packing away. Well, the night before three young French lads had turned up and pitched opposite. They had been talking very loudly until three in the morning. This had woken everyone except myself, I was blissfully unaware of the situation. The others were far from happy. Myself and Pete collared them on the way back from the showers. I enquired if they spoke English, they said no, but probably did. I said YOU tonight shhhhhh no noise. One of them replied ahh tonight, Disco!! F*** me. Pete pipes up. Tonight, NO disco and zips his mouth shut. NO DISCO. I think they got the message it was quiet that night.
Pete and JJ mull over the drinking plan for the evening, JJ is wearing his Don Estelles, good god he's a big lad downstairs 
Rather than go down to one of the on site bars we walked a mile to the nearest village and enjoyed a very relaxing couple of hours with the locals sitting outside supping French beer, Vive la France.
Local village bar , much better than the campsite
The village square right by the bar
Total miles for the day 86 mls FMIWH.
Day 5
The alarm calls woke us at 5.00am as most of our belongings had been packed the night before we were hitting the road at 6.15. We said goodbye to our French neighbours and Nige gave them the remaining beer. We knew this was going to be a long hard day to get down to the Dordogne and none of us were looking forwards to it. Up till now we had had no problems with any of the bikes. We checked the oil regularly and oiled the chains before setting out for a ride. Fingers crossed.
Packing away in Brittany
We set off in the direction of Rennes. The air was relatively cool and riding the Cubs on the deserted wide roads was a real pleasure and an adventure. For some stupid reason I thought we would remain cool all day. How utterly, utterly wrong could I be. As the sun got higher in the sky it obviously got hotter and hotter. Before long we were riding in temperatures of 40 degrees it was hell, really. Dehydration was a big problem, we just drank and drank and still didn’t take enough fluids on board. We were all soaked to the skin in sweat. It was really hard to keep concentrating and motivating yourself to keep going. But we had a destination in mind that we were aiming for, but more of that later. We had a lot of distance to cover and the only way to do that is to keep going. When you are riding along and suffering with just your own thoughts whizzing around in your head you wonder how the others are coping with the situation and why you are suffering more than they are. When you stop and have a chat we were all thinking the same thing. Around midday we stop at Parthenay and buy some lunch we have only covered about 200mls and are knackered already. I thought we had covered far more ground than we had. Great, not.
Lunch at Parthenay
I tried to get 10minutes kip but there was not enough shade and just too hot. Back onto the bikes, trench foot of the nad sack ( a male clinical condition) was becoming a real concern for all of us. Further South we go dissecting Nantes and Angers and heading for Poitiers. The only thing keeping us going was the thought of eventually getting to our destination and of course the beautiful French countryside. We had a few mini stops for fuel and drinks etc but tried to keep going. Our speed was mainly 45-50mph. At 50+mph my engine took on a different note, not an entirely happy one, so we tried to be sensible. At one of the stops I re-checked my oil, none used and still clean. But the temperature of the engine was ridiculous. The whole dip stick was pliable it was that hot. I was glad of the oil cooler, at least it would help?? Maybe? At mid afternoon I was exhausted and could feel my eyes closing the heat was unbelievable it just sapped all your energy. I fought the tiredness for about half an hour by pinching and slapping my legs etc. Right that’s it. The next shaded lay by, just before Ruffec, I pull in and the others followed. I got off the bike took my jacket off lay it on tarmac and was asleep in about 15 seconds. Twenty minutes later the lads are waking me up, time to go, still another 150mls to go. Nige led for 99 percent of the time on this journey and hats off to him he did a brilliant job, it’s not easy being in front and having the responsibility. We have skirted all the major towns but Nige leads us into Ruffec itself. I thought nothing of it, too tired probably. Nige pulls off the main street and gets off his bike. He asks if it means anything to me? I didn’t understand what he meant. There was a café bar on the corner of the street. He took me to the front door. Now does it mean anything to you, I have to say I felt the hairs on the back of my neck come up. This was the Café, that the only two escapees, from the Attack on the Boats in the Gironde estuary at Bordeaux during WW11, contacted the French resistance and were to make their escape over three months back through France, Spain and Gibraltar ( code named ‘Operation Frankton’). You will more than likely have seen the film about it ‘The Cockle Shell Heroes’ The film is rubbish and in no way depicts actually what happened and what these two blokes endured. The escape was unbelievable. The factual book of the raid and escape is a highly recommended read. I thought the café no longer existed, but to be there, for me, was fantastic, thanks Nige. This woke me back up and motivated me to carry on.
Café at Ruffec
Out of Ruffec and on towards Angouleme, then Perigueux By the time we reached Bugue on the D710 all sense of reality had passed us by, so we stopped again to collect our thoughts. We parked in a tiny car park and must have looked like death warmed up. JJ wandered over to a roadside bar and me and Pete followed. We had an ice lolly and a very small beer sold in a round wine glass. God it tasted good.
The bar was like an Oasis in the desert
Jason must have looked like he was about to keel over as an old French guy who lived next to the car park came over and gave him two bottles of water. One of which was frozen and the other ice cold. Jason tried to pay him for them but he would have none of it. Top bloke. We were on the last leg of the journey it was getting on for 7.15 or there abouts, according to the map we only had another 30mls to go.
On we must go
We were heading for the tiny village of Bouzic right in the South of the Dordogne. JJ had arranged for us to stay there…. allegedly. As we got closer we relied on Niges sat nav to guide us. We stopped checked the maps re-checked the sat nav and set off again we climbed higher and higher and the roads got narrower and narrower, they were little more than tracks with a ribbon of grass down the centre. I said to myself, there’s no way there are any campsites up here! Then we started to descend and the tracks got a bit wider, soon we were back in the valley and trundled into and out of the tiny village of Bouzic. A mile down the road there was the campsite. Allelluyah, redemption. We slowly made our way up the track to the reception, it was closed. JJ got off his bike the rest of us were just draped across the handle bars wrecked. After a few seconds a French lady came out side. Oui can I help you in very broken English, she was not in the least bit happy to see us. JJ asked if we could camp here tonight. Again in Broken English, non, we are full. You must be ******* joking. JJ tried again, my friend from England you know him he lives in the village. JJ said his name. Non, I don’t know him. It was obvious we were not going to be stopping here tonight. I had visions of rough camping in the hills we had just come down from. JJ tried again and mentioned the guy from England who lives in the village. There was a glimmer of recognition, JJ then said, is Mattheus here, my friend he knows Mattheus and has arranged for us to stay. At this point she must have said the name Mattheus about three times, exactly how JJ had pronounced it, ie in English. Suddenly her face semi lit up, as she still wasn’t happy, and said in a heavy French accent ahhh you mean Mattheus. Yes yes, oui,oiu. You wait here, she went back inside with a face like thunder. I looked at each one of us and I have to say we looked dog rough, it was now about 9.00pm and we had ridden over 400mls and been on the road for fifteen hours. If it had been my campsite I would have turned us away, honest. Well Mattheus turns up minus the Mrs. Allo can I elp u. JJ briefly explains again. Ah yes, yes I know him. THANK F*** FOR THAT. He introduces himself and shakes every ones hand. Er Give me a minute I will be back. He disappears for 5 minutes, when he re-appears it’s obvious he has been arguing with his Mrs. It’s ok you can stay. The relief amongst up was palpable. Well done JJ for persevering. He showed us to our pitch by the small river, it was beautiful and peaceful. I asked him if he was in trouble? A little bit he replied. We did not let him down and for the next four nights were the perfect guests. By the end of the first day his Mrs had come round and warmed to us. It must have been my mercurial charm and wit offensive that did it.
Total mileage 403mls..it felt like 1403mls
Campsite in the Dordogne
Day 6
We all had a good nights sleep even Jason under his towel. We got up a little later than usual. Luckily our pitch was fairly well shaded from the sun. We had decided to ride to the town of Domme have a look around there and take the day as it came. Hmm what clothes to ride in. We chose to ride in shorts, T shirt and Crocs. We kept our speed down on the deserted roads to about 25-30 mph. I have never ridden like this before and I think we all felt really vulnerable. It was however utterly brilliant and liberating. We rode like this for the next three days. I keep using superlatives to describe the scenery and the villages and Domme is no exception.
Domme
If you are ever down that way go and visit you will not be disappointed. Whilst there, I happened upon a knife shop. I was tempted but walked away. Only to walk back in on the way down to the bikes and bought a knife. My apprentice BCP also bought a knife, obviously smaller than mine. Oi ownlay boughteet fower camping trips (Dudlay Speak). Yea ok Pete. I could see the glint in his eye. We had a bite to eat in Domme, croque monsieur, which is basically a ham and cheese toastie, complemented by a small beer. Around 2.oopm we hopped back on the bikes and headed for La Roque-Gageac a small village on the banks of the Dordoigne. As it was boiling hot we went for a swim in the Dordogne, heaven.
The Dordogne gets polluted
These are Jasons, he said they were clean 
We stayed for an hour or two then headed for Sarlat la Caneda for provisions then back to the campsite. We put most of the beer in a sack and threw it into the river to cool down. We watched an on site Boule competition amonst the campers, had a few drinks in the small outside bar and went to bed with a chorus of frogs singing by the river. I actually felt guilty that Mrs Bogger wasn’t there. Luckily the moment passed.
We now have a mk 11 Pant fridge, no pants this time but the name has stuck. It’s actually one on JJs 1960s Craven panniers. Even better all the beer and wine would fit in. Proper job.
Nige made himself a sock fridge
Total mileage for the day 42mls..a day for wimps and those with terminal crotch rot
Day 7
The clown bike is having a few electrical issues, the headlamp bulb is blown, the back light works now and again and there is no neutral light and the battery is completely flat. Hmm I wonder if it will get him home? Oh and we’ve adjusted the clutch umpteen times. Tappets are still ok though.
Today we went to La Roque Saint-Christophe. Ok how to describe it. Basically perched on the side of a cliff overlooking the river about 80ft up are the remains of a bronze age and medieval settlement. It was very interesting. But heights and me do not go well together It took all my nerve to get round. Not nice. I wrote in the guest book ‘ Really good, but would be better 80ft lower’ I took an early bath and waited by the bikes, sweating, for the others to turn up.
St Christophe
Tonight we had planned to go to the village of Bouzic to the outdoor local producers barbeque with our new Dutch and Belgian camping mates. Once back at the campsite we showered and got ready for the walk to Bouzic along the dusty tracks fringed by fields full of sunflowers. When we got to Bouzic the place was bouncing. There must have been a thousand people on the village green, sitting at long tables eating and drinking in the late evening sunshine. God, if only we had the climate and culture to do this. Personally I thought the night was a fantastic typical French affair. The asparagus was lovely, ahem. The gorgeous wine went down a bit too easily, I drank far too much. Then we went back to the onsite bar and drank some more with the Dutch guys, who quite rightly thought us a little odd. I have no idea what time we got back to the tents 1 or 2am I guess.
Pete retrieves the cold beer from the river
Total miles for the day 68 or so
Day 8
I woke up feeling as rough as a bears. Myself and Jason decided not to move off the campsite just sit in the shade drinking water. Serves us right. Around lunchtime I felt a little better and checked mine and Jasons bikes over. I did the tappets on mine, as the previous day it had sounded a little noisey. The gaps were too wide, it sounded much better after, still no oil used and it was still clean. Nige, JJ and Pete came back late afternoon they had been to the medieval village of Rocamadour they enthused about the place saying we should have gone. Me and Jason had been quite content at the camp site. Alas this was our last day in the Dordogne and that night once again we packed most of our gear away ready for the dawn chorus and an early getaway North. We had a bite to eat and wandered over to the bar on the opposite side of the stream for a couple of refreshing beers. I only Drank iced tea I couldn’t face any alcohol whatsoever. The Dutch and Belgian guys and girls rocked up for a full night of drinking and debauchery with us, we were obviously a bit of a bad influence. We explained to them that we were heading for home the next day and needed a clear head and an early start. They were genuinely disappointed that we were going, odd people. JJ got talking to a Dutch woman about bikes, she had had bikes in her youth, I think she said she was 43 now and had owned a Honda 750. JJ took a real shine to her. They kept pressing us to stay and drink but sadly we couldn’t. One of the Dutch guys went all solemn on us and said with no hint of irony ‘you can’t go, you need to change your game plan’. If only.
Total miles for me and Jason 0 mls
Day 9
Oh no, here we go again. Up at five FMIWH, showered and packed away for 6.00pm. Bikes checked and ready for the off. We were all very sad to leave. We had really enjoyed our stay in the chilled out atmosphere of the small site. I have vowed to take Mrs Bogger there next year for a holiday. I’m going to fit a tow bar on the car and take a Cub down on a rack.
Le Douzou campsite in the Dordogne
Well back to the bimble (ha) north. We reckoned it would take us 2 days to get to Calais leaving a full day to get home from Calais itself. Calais to home is another long day so we thought it best if we could do a big a mileage as possible today a shorter day to Calais then then big day to home. Our aim was to get to just south of Paris if possible and the destination would be Fontainbleau or as close as we could. Nige asked if, on the way north, we should call in at the abandoned village of Aradour sur-Glane. I sort of knew what Aradour sur-Glane represented and we all agreed to the detour. Aradour is just to the north west of Limoges. We wanted to keep off the Peage (toll roads) but stick to the fast A roads as much as possible. We followed the sat nav for the first twenty miles or so which took us into the hills and the back roads. With it being early the air was relatively cool but we all knew what was coming. We had our biking kit back on. One of the first roads we got onto was a toll road. We had a nightmare trying to get a ticket from the automated booth and trying to get the automatic barrier to go up. At the other end thirty miles or so up the road we struggled to use the automatic pay system, eventually we got through after some help from an attendant from a manned booth. Cost 2.60 euros, not too bad. The day was a copy of the ride down there boiling, humid daft temperature 38 degrees and all of us really feeling it again. We stopped a few more times than on the way down. I fell asleep at one of the stops. Myself JJ and Pete and purchased a couple of tins of red bull for the run up. I’m really glad I bought mine. As I rode through the countryside I was more than a little jealous of the French. Clear, smooth and mainly deserted roads, panoramic views, grand architecture and great food, what’s not to like. Very nice indeed. Limoges was fast approaching and we peeled off for Aradour sur-Glane. You probably need to google Aradour Sur-Glane to get the full story and images. The short story of the place is, 1944 the German army rolls in, round up all the villagers and kill them all, over 700 of them, then torch the place. The French now have the complete village as a monument. They have left everything as it was left on that day in 1944. Of course they buried the dead, but everything else exactly as it was, nothing has been move at all. You can walk around the village and it’s not eerie, just like a decaying time warp, a strange experience and you walk around with very mixed emotions, trying to get a grasp on the place and what happened. Very thought provoking.
The melted church bell
The new village sits right next door to the old village. We spent a good couple of hours there and we knew we had to hit the road to give ourselves chance as we had at least another 260ml to do. Joy. We carried on north only stopping for fuel and a quick stretch of the legs. At about 6.00pm Nige asked us if we were all ok and still wanted to try for Fontainbleau. We were all whizzed up on red bull and said go for it even though it was a hundred miles away. All the bikes still running well with no issues apart from the clown bike playing up electrically, but as long as it kept going Pete was happy. At 15 miles outside Fontainbleau Nige checks the map and then the sat Nav. It’s about 7.45pm and we are all very tired. Nige has stayed at the campsite we are aiming for, but many years ago and can’t quite remember how to get there so is relying on the sat nav. The only trouble was, was the sat nav was having none of it. It sent us down the back roads time and time again, we checked and rechecked and rode round in circles, getting nowhere just more and more frustrated. It was close to 8.45pmand we had been on the road 14 hrs. We stopped had a chat and said head back to the main roads and see what campsite signs we can see. 5 miles later a sign for a campsite, hoobloodyray. Another 5 mls down the road we pull into Les Pres campsite. Reception open, we book in. It’s just gone 9.00pm. As we put the tents up a guy walks over to us, he English and can’t get over the fact that he’s seeing Cubs in France. He also thinks we are mad. As it turns out he lives 5mls down the road from me. In the nearby town there’s a McDonalds so me Pete and Jase go and get a big Mac. I’m on the back of the Clown bike two up with Pete. I never want to sit on it again. Our new mate brings us some beers over and has a chat.
Le Pres Campsite
We hit the sack only to be woken in the early hours of the morning by a thunder and lightening storm of biblical proportions. I’m not afraid to say it was scary, I’ve never witnessed anything like it. I had my fingers firmly pressed in my ears. We had the first rain of the trip as well that night.
Total miles for the day 393 mls
We awoke at 8.00 am and were ready to go at 9.0am. The weather was a bit grim, raining on and off whilst packing away. We all had our wet weather gear on, however it was still very hot so before we had turned a wheel we were sweating. Fourty miles down the road all signs of rain had disappeared and we pulled over for a drink and removal of the waterproofs. Ah heaven.
Off come the waterproofs and most other items of clothing
We had passed through Fontainbleau and our route took us via Bournville, Villiers and Cotterets.
We carried on up through Vic sur Ainsle, Nyon and Ham.
A Quick stop in Ham
Nige falls off on a diesel drenched roundabout
Typical French roads and countryside, taken on the move
Just before St Omer, Nige, Pete and Jason peeled off for Belgium to get some tobacco supplies. Myself and JJ were going to meet them later at the campsite at Guines. JJ took a wrong turn and took us for an impromptu tour of St Omer, very nice, but can we please get to Guines. The rubbish signs in St Omer lead us round in circles and I take over the lead and somehow manage to get us back on the right road. There are quite a few villages to go through and this slows down our progress. Finally we are on the last leg of the journey and the village Guines comes into sight. We pull in and get a few provisions from the local Lidl then onto the campsite, where we have stayed before. There is a long queue of British caravans waiting to get onto the site. We pull round them and go the front of the queue. They have obviously just come off the ferry for their first night in France. The receptionist recognises us as we have stayed at the site a few times. We set up have some supper, it’s gone 7.30pm and head for a relaxing beer on our last night in France. I bump into two sets of friends who are just starting their holiday. Weird or what?
Total mileage for the day 272mls
Guines campsite just before Nige Pete and Jason turn up
It’s another early start. We are going back to blighty on the tunnel. We manage to pack up in the dry but the weather does not look too good so we don our waterproofs again for the short hop to Calais and the tunnel. It’s pouring down by the time we get to the terminal.
Oh look it's pouring down, oh look we are nearly home
I really didn’t fancy riding all the way home in the wet after all the good weather we had experienced. I didn’t like the tunnel, it felt like queuing up for a concentration camp. I much prefer the ferry. We roll off the other end into glorious sunshine, so at the first stop it’s off with the waterproofs again. Nige, JJ and Jason surge ahead, they are heading for South Wales me and Pete trek up the M1 and onto the M6. At one of the stops I get chatting to a lad who’s just picked up a TU250 and is riding it home to Manchester. Every stop we make we see him at the services, he was really into Suzuki Van Vans. Pete peels off for Dudlay so I’m on my own for the last hundred miles. I arrive home at 6.15 pm I leave the bike running to hear what it sounds like. The Lifan was as sweet as a nut. It was a bit of a shock getting home. Mrs Bogger had bought a new fridge, freezer and microwave whilst I was away and then proceeded to drop the old freezer on her foot. Good job she was wearing protective footwear. Flip flops. Next day I took her to the hospital for X-Rays.
So was it a holiday? Yes it was and with great company. Was it hard work? very hard at times. I’ve been to the Med, Teneriffe and Florida etc. But the temperatures were certainly the hottest I’ve experienced. Better than rain though, any day.
Total mileage for the day 316 mls total mileage for the trip 2,080 mls and FMIWH..mostly
Bogger…………….. Already looking at the continental map for next year.
Message Thread:
Back to main forum
Sorry, this post has timed out and can no longer be responded to (feel free to blame spammers).
If there are more recent replies, you might still be able to reply to those!
Just a counter down here...
