I actually managed an early start this morning and got the tent packed up just before a fairly heavy shower of rain, the first since Belfast. On with the grotty wet gear – as this is a one-way trip heading to the warm and rainless south I’m wearing vented armoured jacket and trousers with cheap nasty waterproofs to pull over them. The theory is that I eventually just dump the waterproofs. The downside is that cheap waterproofs don’t breathe and it all gets a bit humid and unpleasant inside them. Too much information? Sorry.
So, I rode on into the warm and rainless south and got frozen and soaked all day in my unsuitable attire. Perhaps the fact that my route included crossing the Dordogne at Bergerac, the Garronne at Marmande, and the Adour at Aire sur l’Adour should have suggested the possibility of rain?
My day was livened up by being pulled over by two gendarmes at Miramont-de-Guyenne. I couldn’t blame then – the bike has had all its Yamaha identification removed, it must be illegal with all the weight on the back and by this stage I looked, and probably smelled, like Worzel Gummidge on an off day. No matter – follow the motorcyclist’s code for dealing with policemen the world over: pull in off the road, engine off, helmet off, smile broadly and say hello in their language. It worked with the younger gendarme; he just wanted to know if it was a Yamaha Tenere. The older one glared at his companion for committing this youthful indiscretion and demanded to see my driving licence. I continued to grin inanely and apologised for holding him back as I opened two padlocks, two zips and a waterproof bag to get to my licence. At least I think I apologised: with my French and the stress, I might just as easily have been insulting his grandmother. Suddenly he spotted the South America stickers on the panniers and assumed I had been there. Actually the bike had been, but with its previous owner. I suddenly acquired adventurer status; he switched to English, regaled me with tales of his tour of duty in Guatemala City and warned me to watch out for thieves and corrupt policemen on my travels. I thankfully stuffed the rest of my slightly iffy documentation away and departed.
Very cold, hungry and bedraggled I arrived at my rendezvous with the Randalstown ex-pat community south of Pau. The contrast from the day’s travel was quite something as I got presented with a meal of award winning foie gras followed by perfectly-pink duck breast and far too much fine wine. Tough work this hardcore adventure travel!
So, I rode on into the warm and rainless south and got frozen and soaked all day in my unsuitable attire. Perhaps the fact that my route included crossing the Dordogne at Bergerac, the Garronne at Marmande, and the Adour at Aire sur l’Adour should have suggested the possibility of rain?
My day was livened up by being pulled over by two gendarmes at Miramont-de-Guyenne. I couldn’t blame then – the bike has had all its Yamaha identification removed, it must be illegal with all the weight on the back and by this stage I looked, and probably smelled, like Worzel Gummidge on an off day. No matter – follow the motorcyclist’s code for dealing with policemen the world over: pull in off the road, engine off, helmet off, smile broadly and say hello in their language. It worked with the younger gendarme; he just wanted to know if it was a Yamaha Tenere. The older one glared at his companion for committing this youthful indiscretion and demanded to see my driving licence. I continued to grin inanely and apologised for holding him back as I opened two padlocks, two zips and a waterproof bag to get to my licence. At least I think I apologised: with my French and the stress, I might just as easily have been insulting his grandmother. Suddenly he spotted the South America stickers on the panniers and assumed I had been there. Actually the bike had been, but with its previous owner. I suddenly acquired adventurer status; he switched to English, regaled me with tales of his tour of duty in Guatemala City and warned me to watch out for thieves and corrupt policemen on my travels. I thankfully stuffed the rest of my slightly iffy documentation away and departed.
Very cold, hungry and bedraggled I arrived at my rendezvous with the Randalstown ex-pat community south of Pau. The contrast from the day’s travel was quite something as I got presented with a meal of award winning foie gras followed by perfectly-pink duck breast and far too much fine wine. Tough work this hardcore adventure travel!
2 comments:
Hi Alan, Willie and Seanene, Thank you for looking after him!
Keep 'er lit Drew - sounds like you're having a great adventure! PS any chance of telling us how many miles/ km you're covering each day?
Cheers, Paul B
Post a Comment