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Location:Cascais, Portugal
Friday 29 June 2012
Biker Brunch
Glorious sunshine, bright blue Atlantic, rock music bellowing from the roadside, solar-panelled van, chilli-dog, extra chilli, America's finest canned drink ... A proper touring biker brunch ... Aye thang yaw!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Hola ...
My apologies as I'm nearly two days behind but I will attempt to catch up right now...
So I left you in my previous blog with my au revoir to the lovely family on the farm to the south of Nantes. It was 9.30am or so and beautiful day was ahead. Temperatures started at 28 degrees and by the time I had reached Bordeaux (via La Rochelle) at about 3pm, it was a steaming 37 degrees! The day was full of charm and beauty that commenced with La Rochelle as mentioned, followed by a glorious ride through remote countryside from Hiers-Brouage, a 16th Century walled town, to the Gironde Estuary. The area was cluttered with Oyster and Mussel Farms cultivating their slippery beauties in the plentiful, natural waters and the air was spiced with their sea-salt aroma. I passed many a roadside stall and small village restaurants advertising this local produce at increasingly competitive prices and even now don't understand why I didn't stop for a decadent dozen.
Anyway, I arrived in Bordeaux an hour or so later and decided against stopping for yet another cup of consistently perfect French coffee but instead headed for the coast ... Mimizan,to be precise. Why? Because the name seemed to stand out as I scanned the map.
Mimizan, was a classic, pine-enveloped, coastal small town with a campsite set amongst the trees, exactly what I was looking for and within the hour (having already purchased provisions en route) I was pitched and ready for supper.
My experiences of travelling alone are that you are often not alone as there is always a friendly someone, as per the evening before and last night was no exception.
Idris (sorry if I have spelled your name wrong) was tented in the adjacent pitch and was there to work his summer holidays before his final year of IT study.
It wasn't long before we were sharing cigarettes and wine, discussing French politics, the meaning of life and as it got dark, generally flailing our arms in a Tourettes fashion fending off the invasion of mosquitoes. Then, without warning, the air changed from completely stagnant to a fierce wind, which reminded me of Romania and those very hot, dry days dissected by stormy nights. With this in mind, I suggested we call it a night and as I packed the last item away, a flash of light and crack of thunder confirmed the change of weather to come. And come it did ... It was so loud inside the tent that I recorded the rain on my phone but I can't find a way to load a file that isn't a pic or a video. Anyway, it was weirdly yet wonderfully comforting and cozy in the tent with all that lashing loudness outside.
The next morning, I thought I'd woken in the England I'd just left; cloud-clad sky and the temperature had literally halved overnight, 18 degrees at best! Idris had already gone to work for a 6.30am start so I missed that au-revoir, frankly, the whole campsite was pretty quite and empty anyway. From what I have witnessed on my travels so far, tourism is definitely down from last year. One owner of a previous lodging I stayed in said his bookings were down 40%!
I set off and decided to hug the coast toward Biarritz, a firm favourite of mine due to previous visits but as I scanned maps on a coffee break about half way there I realised two things ... Firstly, it was Thursday and secondly I was still a long way from my destination in the Portuguese Algarve.
What I haven't mentioned yet is that this trip, at least initially, has a purpose and that is to join a very good friend and his small group of guests, at a villa he has rented for a week, to celebrate his 50th year. They all start gathering from tomorrow (Friday) and I've quite obviously been in a relaxed, touring mindset. So down went the espresso in one gulp, I entered my final destination in the SatNav and then hit 'Fastest Route'. Yup over 1,300 kms to go, so off I went. Within 10 minutes I was on a motorway which became my rolling home for the next 8 hours. Over 650 kilometers later and 100 kilometres short of the Portuguese border, the only thing I've seen in Spain has been petrol stations and toll booths. No worries, I'll have time after the celebrations. Besides, the weather was cloudy in France, fog bound in the Pyrenees and it wasn't until 200 kms into Spain that the eventual sun drove temperatures back to the expected norm for this time of year (mid-30's).
So no good stories for you I'm afraid and as I've still got some 700 kms to go, it's all going to be 'autovia' i.e. boring.
Oh and before I forget, a little vignette ... had a great, gesturing conversation today with a sweaty, bearded, middle-aged, Spanish petrol attendant, fag hanging out the corner of his mouth (in the parking area at this point) who was pointing to all the flags stuck on the bike of the various countries I've visited and after realising that I was riding on my own ... slapped one hand on his forehead, the other firmly grabs his balls, Michael Jackson stylie and he shouts "grandé, non!" Funny guy, loved him ... yet another great character on the road.
OK, gone mid-night by a margin again, buenos noches xc
So I left you in my previous blog with my au revoir to the lovely family on the farm to the south of Nantes. It was 9.30am or so and beautiful day was ahead. Temperatures started at 28 degrees and by the time I had reached Bordeaux (via La Rochelle) at about 3pm, it was a steaming 37 degrees! The day was full of charm and beauty that commenced with La Rochelle as mentioned, followed by a glorious ride through remote countryside from Hiers-Brouage, a 16th Century walled town, to the Gironde Estuary. The area was cluttered with Oyster and Mussel Farms cultivating their slippery beauties in the plentiful, natural waters and the air was spiced with their sea-salt aroma. I passed many a roadside stall and small village restaurants advertising this local produce at increasingly competitive prices and even now don't understand why I didn't stop for a decadent dozen.
Anyway, I arrived in Bordeaux an hour or so later and decided against stopping for yet another cup of consistently perfect French coffee but instead headed for the coast ... Mimizan,to be precise. Why? Because the name seemed to stand out as I scanned the map.
Mimizan, was a classic, pine-enveloped, coastal small town with a campsite set amongst the trees, exactly what I was looking for and within the hour (having already purchased provisions en route) I was pitched and ready for supper.
My experiences of travelling alone are that you are often not alone as there is always a friendly someone, as per the evening before and last night was no exception.
Idris (sorry if I have spelled your name wrong) was tented in the adjacent pitch and was there to work his summer holidays before his final year of IT study.
It wasn't long before we were sharing cigarettes and wine, discussing French politics, the meaning of life and as it got dark, generally flailing our arms in a Tourettes fashion fending off the invasion of mosquitoes. Then, without warning, the air changed from completely stagnant to a fierce wind, which reminded me of Romania and those very hot, dry days dissected by stormy nights. With this in mind, I suggested we call it a night and as I packed the last item away, a flash of light and crack of thunder confirmed the change of weather to come. And come it did ... It was so loud inside the tent that I recorded the rain on my phone but I can't find a way to load a file that isn't a pic or a video. Anyway, it was weirdly yet wonderfully comforting and cozy in the tent with all that lashing loudness outside.
The next morning, I thought I'd woken in the England I'd just left; cloud-clad sky and the temperature had literally halved overnight, 18 degrees at best! Idris had already gone to work for a 6.30am start so I missed that au-revoir, frankly, the whole campsite was pretty quite and empty anyway. From what I have witnessed on my travels so far, tourism is definitely down from last year. One owner of a previous lodging I stayed in said his bookings were down 40%!
I set off and decided to hug the coast toward Biarritz, a firm favourite of mine due to previous visits but as I scanned maps on a coffee break about half way there I realised two things ... Firstly, it was Thursday and secondly I was still a long way from my destination in the Portuguese Algarve.
What I haven't mentioned yet is that this trip, at least initially, has a purpose and that is to join a very good friend and his small group of guests, at a villa he has rented for a week, to celebrate his 50th year. They all start gathering from tomorrow (Friday) and I've quite obviously been in a relaxed, touring mindset. So down went the espresso in one gulp, I entered my final destination in the SatNav and then hit 'Fastest Route'. Yup over 1,300 kms to go, so off I went. Within 10 minutes I was on a motorway which became my rolling home for the next 8 hours. Over 650 kilometers later and 100 kilometres short of the Portuguese border, the only thing I've seen in Spain has been petrol stations and toll booths. No worries, I'll have time after the celebrations. Besides, the weather was cloudy in France, fog bound in the Pyrenees and it wasn't until 200 kms into Spain that the eventual sun drove temperatures back to the expected norm for this time of year (mid-30's).
So no good stories for you I'm afraid and as I've still got some 700 kms to go, it's all going to be 'autovia' i.e. boring.
Oh and before I forget, a little vignette ... had a great, gesturing conversation today with a sweaty, bearded, middle-aged, Spanish petrol attendant, fag hanging out the corner of his mouth (in the parking area at this point) who was pointing to all the flags stuck on the bike of the various countries I've visited and after realising that I was riding on my own ... slapped one hand on his forehead, the other firmly grabs his balls, Michael Jackson stylie and he shouts "grandé, non!" Funny guy, loved him ... yet another great character on the road.
OK, gone mid-night by a margin again, buenos noches xc
Thursday 28 June 2012
Filling-In
So to fill in before my last missive depicting the delights of coffee-sipping in La Rochelle today, I decided after a lay-in yesterday, to wander the centre-ville of a rather splendid Nantes so I loaded the bike ready for take-off upon my return and left it in the very secure hotel car park. Returning to said parking following an impromptu poisson luncheon and nonchalant, cobbled meandering, I changed into my leathers, hopped on the bike and proceeded in an orderly manner to the exit barrier thinking an approach is all that is needed to raise the barrier. Non! "Insert la clef, s'il vous plait". But my room key (plastic card) didn't work! Well it was now 5pm and was obviously deactivated. Not wishing to return to the hotel reception and pay another 12 Euros, I looked for a Plan B. Ah! Fire Exit! But a traverse of 5 or so small concrete steps was between me and the wide outside ... hmmm ... well if Evil Knievel can do 5 London Buses, I'm sure my BMW Beast can do 5 steps. So. Wedged open the door, short run-up (that's all I had), stood up on the pegs in a MotoX stylie, then dugga-dugga-dugga-dugga-dugga ... up and out. Ta da. Went sooooo much better than I thought, I knew I shouldn't have turned down that part in the Italian Job!
About 150 kms later, it was 7.30pm and I needed somewhere to stay. "Chambres d'Hotes" said the sign and a sharp a-gauche onto farm-track lane took me to a farm. Funny that!
Bloody deserted. I knocked doors, rang bells, nothing.
Then a car pulled up, two ladies appeared but they were guests not patrons. Clio, as I was to later find out, very helpfully, phoned Le Patron and got me sorted with a split-level room in rustic splendour. Fabulously rural, fabulously French.
To cut a longer story short as this blog is growing to big, it's 1.30am and I'm fatigue'd. Arm-filled with bottle, baguette and accompaniments i adjourned to a late sun-ladened jardin and while de-corking Clio approached with an invitation to join them. "Mais oui".
Smatterings of English, French and Italian pleasantly ate up the hours into darkness with Alexandra and Clio; both are involved in the restoration of a near-by cathedral. Fascinating, friendly, charming and pissed.
I had breakfast with the whole family of the house this morning, three generations of them, all so wonderfully welcoming and warm; even to the point of a family ensemble, drive-way au-revoir. Such nice people.
I'll leave it there for now; more about today tomorrow although it is already tomorrow. Hope you slept well. Bon nuit xc
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About 150 kms later, it was 7.30pm and I needed somewhere to stay. "Chambres d'Hotes" said the sign and a sharp a-gauche onto farm-track lane took me to a farm. Funny that!
Bloody deserted. I knocked doors, rang bells, nothing.
Then a car pulled up, two ladies appeared but they were guests not patrons. Clio, as I was to later find out, very helpfully, phoned Le Patron and got me sorted with a split-level room in rustic splendour. Fabulously rural, fabulously French.
To cut a longer story short as this blog is growing to big, it's 1.30am and I'm fatigue'd. Arm-filled with bottle, baguette and accompaniments i adjourned to a late sun-ladened jardin and while de-corking Clio approached with an invitation to join them. "Mais oui".
Smatterings of English, French and Italian pleasantly ate up the hours into darkness with Alexandra and Clio; both are involved in the restoration of a near-by cathedral. Fascinating, friendly, charming and pissed.
I had breakfast with the whole family of the house this morning, three generations of them, all so wonderfully welcoming and warm; even to the point of a family ensemble, drive-way au-revoir. Such nice people.
I'll leave it there for now; more about today tomorrow although it is already tomorrow. Hope you slept well. Bon nuit xc
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Location:Mimizam, France
Wednesday 27 June 2012
28 Degrees
Oooooh yesh .... I am replete on a feast of sunshine and lashings of open road. This is what I came for; long may it continue.
I will talk of my delightful night's stay later but just a quickie for now to share the glory of La Rochelle's harbour. Esspresso avec ciggy while mapping my journey south ... I shall take the coast road ... Parfait!
I leave you with my current visage ...
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I will talk of my delightful night's stay later but just a quickie for now to share the glory of La Rochelle's harbour. Esspresso avec ciggy while mapping my journey south ... I shall take the coast road ... Parfait!
I leave you with my current visage ...
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Monday 25 June 2012
Back On The Road ...
Helloooo, remember that summary of last year's trip that I was going to do... well ... it was a 'promise' with all good intention but here I am, more than a year later and yes, I didn't get round to it. Shame really as there were lots of stories that I missed out in my 'reportings' but those of you that have done blogs, know the effort and time that they take!
Anyway, enough excuses, what's more fun, at least for me, is that I'm back on the road ... yippee, wrapped in large dollops of hoorah's ... quick segue about hoorah's ... me, I'm a horrah kinda guy but many will spell it hurrah which I note the spell check only question's the former ... well, bollox (spell check that you annoying laptop thingy), it's hoorah for me. I find the pursing of the lip formation while executing the sound far more pleasing, so there, but do carry on hurrahing after the "hip pip". Struth, I really can prattle on about nothing and it's only been 3 glasses ... you still reading or gone to make a cup of tea.
Where was I ... oh yes ... ferry from Portsmouth at 8.15 this morning, destination Caen. Full of more kids than primary school. I really had forgotten how much noise a herd of junevilles (as my mate calls them) can make; I AM getting old! Even on deck where I sneaked out for a ciggy, the sound of lashings seas, Atlantic winds, squabbling seagulls and the infinite-horsepowering drone of colossal ferry engines, were but a semi-demi-tone on the volume of "Like, One Direction are sooo much better than JLS"!
I know, I'll go watch a movie ... "Bonjour, excuse-moi madam", started well, "what movies you playin'?", poor finish. Ah, ticket for Herge's Adventures of TinTin ... Spielberg and Best Animation, excellent! Snuggled down in reclining bliss when KAPOW! Literally, 2 mins into the movie the herd descend like Wildebeest with bags of sweets that were wrapped in firecrackers! I felt a "BE QUIET" coming on but their teacher beat me to it. Wasn't that bad really but when we arrived at port, I rode off the ferry pretty sharpish before they did a kid-count on the coach (just kidding ... no pun intended).
So headed South toward my first stop in Nantes and the hope of better weather ... well you would have thought so ... I'd been heading directly towards the equator for 4 hours and it was still f**king raining. Began to feel like that character in the old Peanuts cartoon strip that always had a rain cloud above his head!
I've just read what I've type and it sounds like I'm off to a terribly miserable start but in truth it's absolutely not the case ... I'm totally chilled and back doing what I love most ... will leave it there for now but I will do my best to keep y'all up-to-date. Bonsoiree x
PS Clepto, if you're reading this, massive big-up on your European Tour and I hope to catch up with you somewhere in this Continent in the next few weeks ... CHARGE!
Anyway, enough excuses, what's more fun, at least for me, is that I'm back on the road ... yippee, wrapped in large dollops of hoorah's ... quick segue about hoorah's ... me, I'm a horrah kinda guy but many will spell it hurrah which I note the spell check only question's the former ... well, bollox (spell check that you annoying laptop thingy), it's hoorah for me. I find the pursing of the lip formation while executing the sound far more pleasing, so there, but do carry on hurrahing after the "hip pip". Struth, I really can prattle on about nothing and it's only been 3 glasses ... you still reading or gone to make a cup of tea.
Where was I ... oh yes ... ferry from Portsmouth at 8.15 this morning, destination Caen. Full of more kids than primary school. I really had forgotten how much noise a herd of junevilles (as my mate calls them) can make; I AM getting old! Even on deck where I sneaked out for a ciggy, the sound of lashings seas, Atlantic winds, squabbling seagulls and the infinite-horsepowering drone of colossal ferry engines, were but a semi-demi-tone on the volume of "Like, One Direction are sooo much better than JLS"!
I know, I'll go watch a movie ... "Bonjour, excuse-moi madam", started well, "what movies you playin'?", poor finish. Ah, ticket for Herge's Adventures of TinTin ... Spielberg and Best Animation, excellent! Snuggled down in reclining bliss when KAPOW! Literally, 2 mins into the movie the herd descend like Wildebeest with bags of sweets that were wrapped in firecrackers! I felt a "BE QUIET" coming on but their teacher beat me to it. Wasn't that bad really but when we arrived at port, I rode off the ferry pretty sharpish before they did a kid-count on the coach (just kidding ... no pun intended).
So headed South toward my first stop in Nantes and the hope of better weather ... well you would have thought so ... I'd been heading directly towards the equator for 4 hours and it was still f**king raining. Began to feel like that character in the old Peanuts cartoon strip that always had a rain cloud above his head!
I've just read what I've type and it sounds like I'm off to a terribly miserable start but in truth it's absolutely not the case ... I'm totally chilled and back doing what I love most ... will leave it there for now but I will do my best to keep y'all up-to-date. Bonsoiree x
PS Clepto, if you're reading this, massive big-up on your European Tour and I hope to catch up with you somewhere in this Continent in the next few weeks ... CHARGE!
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