It’s 10pm again before I can sit down to cobble together an update, so I take the easy option of ‘a picture painting a thousand words’.
Here is the briefest of summaries of our ride from northern Spain, over the Pyrenees into France (where we will remain until 24th).
Continue reading “To put you in the picture”We all make mistakes and not for the first time on this trip I led the group a merry dance in search of our goal.
Previously it may have been exiting a town or just me deciding to employ an artistic twist to a route, rather than following the instructions displayed on the satnav screen and accompanying commentary being fed into my helmet. But unlike Avila, today’s rather avant-garde approach didn’t involve a brush with the local constabulary, as I ignored the name of our hotel and just bumbled around the village in my hap hazard way. Maybe it was a combination of a number of things like the heat, feeling a little worn out by another long (but enjoyable) day in the saddle, or my frustration at crawling along at escargot pace behind locals who seem to be in no urgency to do anything? Whatever the excuse we did eventually find our hotel nestled away within the beautiful little village of Moureze.
As we all dismounted the bikes Jenny pretty much summed up all our feelings with “Can we stay here a week”?
Continue reading “Saturday”Sitting at the outside cafe in the picturesque village of Le Roque-Gageac on the Dordogne, it makes me want to draw. Like some of the many beautiful places we’ve visited on this trip, they make my mind wander to do so many other things, yes to draw, but also to paint, or to walk the hills and mountains, canoe along the rivers, cycle the cols. I’m not entirely sure why I have this overwhelming feeling of so much I would love to do, and yet so little time in which to do it? Maybe just the love for life and all there is to enjoy? Maybe my age and yes, of course the loss so suddenly of Rachel. She would say “So what did you do after I died”? It’s not my driving, or should I say riding, force, but it’s there in the back of my mind, and that remains some of her influence of who I am.
Continue reading “Blog Wars”In an effort to get up to speed here are the photos from yesterday’s ride, a big thank you to Amy for recommending the route! 🤗
The following photographs are of Sarlat:
On our trek across Spain and France we have ridden past a hundred fields of sunflowers, every flower with its brown face looking down forlornly at the earth, every field except one. Today we rode past the only one where their bright yellow faces gazed up at the sunshine. We were the ones who were forlorn, introspective and saddened, but the sight of those flowers lifted our spirits.
“Chris isn’t it”? Said the big motorcycle guy at breakfast in the ferry’s restaurant.
“Brian actually. John isn’t it”?
“Rob actually”
We both laughed.
The thing with bikers is that we frequently end up chatting about our mutual hobbies and I briefly met Rob and his wife at our hotel in Saumur. I obviously mistook his name for a couple I’d met elsewhere, and he likewise. They invited me to sit with them over breakfast (as we were about to depart from St Malo) and we continued Thursday’s biking conversation.
Continue reading “Bikers”Just when you thought it was safe to relax, along comes the final (unplanned) blog post.
This is probably of more interest to the biker readership, so if you’re not of the two wheel persuasion be prepared to be bored.
But before I run through why, and how I rode the 350 miles through the night, here are e few photographs to get you up to speed.
