Alps 2012 + 14
Day 8
Thursday morning.
Shortly after waking and scrubbing, up I made my way down for breakfast, sat upon a proper chair, and at a proper table - so this is what Hotels are about then - it felt good!
When I'd finished I sat out front to contemplate the day ahead, distance to travel, objectives etc.
I counted my money again , 60,70,80...I had 100 Euros , PLUS the 50 that Laurant had kindly lent me up front. £25.00 of that would be for Dover to home, which would probably leave me about 115 Euros to get to Calais. Calais via Paris worked out at approx 147 miles , Pont d'Ain to Paris would add a further, and near as damn it, 290 miles. 437 miles divided by 45mpg gave me a 10 gallon approximation. I estimated £60 for this mileage , which told me it would actually be more in Euros that I needed to deduct. I gave up calculating but figured I had little to spend on top, perhaps a roadside coffee or similar, but now I had to check out and move on. I had to return good miles today so I could arrive in Paris tomorrow morning, early. I had no idea how long it would take to sort the passport or what difficulties it may entail, so getting there late in the day was out of the question. If I missed Paris on the Friday then I would have been stuck until Monday when the British Consulate reopened- I didn't have the funds to be stuck.
I said my goodbyes to Laurant and thanked him for his extreme kindness as I checked out and hobbled to the garage to load the GS up once again. Before reaching Pont d'Ain, and before deciding that I would divert away from Switzerland I had pulled over to a very large lay by alongside a wooded area. I needed the rest, some water and I was hopeful at finding something suitable lying about that I could utilise as a walking stick! I found a dead branch, about 2 metres in length and placed one end between a fork in a tree to where I wanted to create the 'snap'. It didn't snap where I had hoped and so saved my energy, rather than to keep trying with one duff leg preventing me from putting my full weight behind the levering action. What I ended up with was a stick about 70cms in length, which I threaded through the tent retaining straps to assist my walking for as long as was necessary when off the bike.
Thursday morning.
Shortly after waking and scrubbing, up I made my way down for breakfast, sat upon a proper chair, and at a proper table - so this is what Hotels are about then - it felt good!
When I'd finished I sat out front to contemplate the day ahead, distance to travel, objectives etc.
I counted my money again , 60,70,80...I had 100 Euros , PLUS the 50 that Laurant had kindly lent me up front. £25.00 of that would be for Dover to home, which would probably leave me about 115 Euros to get to Calais. Calais via Paris worked out at approx 147 miles , Pont d'Ain to Paris would add a further, and near as damn it, 290 miles. 437 miles divided by 45mpg gave me a 10 gallon approximation. I estimated £60 for this mileage , which told me it would actually be more in Euros that I needed to deduct. I gave up calculating but figured I had little to spend on top, perhaps a roadside coffee or similar, but now I had to check out and move on. I had to return good miles today so I could arrive in Paris tomorrow morning, early. I had no idea how long it would take to sort the passport or what difficulties it may entail, so getting there late in the day was out of the question. If I missed Paris on the Friday then I would have been stuck until Monday when the British Consulate reopened- I didn't have the funds to be stuck.
I said my goodbyes to Laurant and thanked him for his extreme kindness as I checked out and hobbled to the garage to load the GS up once again. Before reaching Pont d'Ain, and before deciding that I would divert away from Switzerland I had pulled over to a very large lay by alongside a wooded area. I needed the rest, some water and I was hopeful at finding something suitable lying about that I could utilise as a walking stick! I found a dead branch, about 2 metres in length and placed one end between a fork in a tree to where I wanted to create the 'snap'. It didn't snap where I had hoped and so saved my energy, rather than to keep trying with one duff leg preventing me from putting my full weight behind the levering action. What I ended up with was a stick about 70cms in length, which I threaded through the tent retaining straps to assist my walking for as long as was necessary when off the bike.
I wondered how the day would pan out as I mounted the GS and left Pont d'Ain , destination Paris.
I slept well through the night and the gearchanges felt a little easier today , but as before , it wouldn't last.
I set off along the D1075 taking in Bourge-en-Bresse , the D1079 to Macon and then the N79 through Moulins before picking up the N7 North. I filled the tank somewhere along the N79 after Macon. Generally the route was fast but I had to calculate mentally the speed I would travel at as it was no point winding the throttle on to make good time if it was going to burn the fuel too quickly. I would have occasional bursts of perhaps 80 - 90mph before settling back to 60-70mph.
The miles rolled by, the clock did too , some roads were slow with traffic and some were fast and open. I felt the need to check my location and pulled in to a restaurant out of town at Chantenay-St-Imbert. A very nice restaurant, family owned , and a very helpful lady (probably the owner) who was happy to assist me with the map, take a photo and of course, bring me coffees.
I slept well through the night and the gearchanges felt a little easier today , but as before , it wouldn't last.
I set off along the D1075 taking in Bourge-en-Bresse , the D1079 to Macon and then the N79 through Moulins before picking up the N7 North. I filled the tank somewhere along the N79 after Macon. Generally the route was fast but I had to calculate mentally the speed I would travel at as it was no point winding the throttle on to make good time if it was going to burn the fuel too quickly. I would have occasional bursts of perhaps 80 - 90mph before settling back to 60-70mph.
The miles rolled by, the clock did too , some roads were slow with traffic and some were fast and open. I felt the need to check my location and pulled in to a restaurant out of town at Chantenay-St-Imbert. A very nice restaurant, family owned , and a very helpful lady (probably the owner) who was happy to assist me with the map, take a photo and of course, bring me coffees.
After two coffees I remounted, some time gone midday, and continued my route along the N7 toward and beyond Nevers along the A77. Whilst riding the N7 between my last stop and Magny Cours, I hit some two-laned traffic in a built up area. I noticed a white Mercedes Sprinter on my outside, seemingly in a hurry as he came past me and then suddenly cut into my lane just metres across my path. I hand gestured the driver in a kind of 'what the fuck was that about', manner! I also noticed the GB plate just before checking my mirror and seeing a Gendarme BMW 3 Series , blues and two's on the go and about to pull in the 'white van man'. At the least he would be done for speeding, at worst for reckless driving when he swerved across my path.
I was back out of town clocking the miles again whilst keeping an eye out for a fuel stop. Some miles later the on board computer low fuel warning lamp lit up whilst indicating a range of just 46 miles left. The 'range' display would keep falling as I continually looked out for fuel, but nothing , no fuel stations were seen for many miles.
In France, and on the wrong route one can go many many miles without seeing a fuel station and I was on such a route!
I kept an eye on all the small town/village names, their distance and direction to see which would fall within my route north and not having to travel to far in a different direction - still nothing.
Range '26 miles' ... '14' miles'... At last I found a supermarket station ... alas , card payments only , I had lost my cards on day 2! Apparently at lunchtime even the fuel attendants in France leave their position at the supermarkets and switch the switch to card payments only.
Fuel range '9 miles' , I find another supermarket , it too accepts cards only.
I have now dropped my speed to between 35 and 45mph as I longed for a fuel station to take my cash that I was only too willing to spend.
I arrive at a Pizzeria , which struck me as being predominantly for truckers , with occasional cars here and there, and situated right on the apex of a large roundaboubt. I have to pull in , there is no alternative , the range now read '3 miles'. I pull up next to the brick built barbecue to try to get some knowledge of the nearest fuel stop.
I was back out of town clocking the miles again whilst keeping an eye out for a fuel stop. Some miles later the on board computer low fuel warning lamp lit up whilst indicating a range of just 46 miles left. The 'range' display would keep falling as I continually looked out for fuel, but nothing , no fuel stations were seen for many miles.
In France, and on the wrong route one can go many many miles without seeing a fuel station and I was on such a route!
I kept an eye on all the small town/village names, their distance and direction to see which would fall within my route north and not having to travel to far in a different direction - still nothing.
Range '26 miles' ... '14' miles'... At last I found a supermarket station ... alas , card payments only , I had lost my cards on day 2! Apparently at lunchtime even the fuel attendants in France leave their position at the supermarkets and switch the switch to card payments only.
Fuel range '9 miles' , I find another supermarket , it too accepts cards only.
I have now dropped my speed to between 35 and 45mph as I longed for a fuel station to take my cash that I was only too willing to spend.
I arrive at a Pizzeria , which struck me as being predominantly for truckers , with occasional cars here and there, and situated right on the apex of a large roundaboubt. I have to pull in , there is no alternative , the range now read '3 miles'. I pull up next to the brick built barbecue to try to get some knowledge of the nearest fuel stop.
Throughout my travels in France I had noticed that the further you are from the big towns, tourist areas etc, the less likely the locals are going to speak English. This of course may not be the case but it certainly was in my experience.
I approached a young lad , perhaps early to mid 20's in age, but we would have dialect problems. He led me into the Pizzeria but still the language barrier was there with other people.
Few words, but fortunately for me , important words, like fuel/petrol/gas/benzine got the desired reaction. There was minimal understanding between us both but progress was being made nonetheless. He understood I was riding toward Paris when I showed him my map book, and understood when I pointed at my fuel tank, signalling low fuel etc etc.
I held a hand to my chest whilst extending my other hand away from me in an attempt to suggest distance , coupled with an understanding of my low fuel and a garage requirement which resulted in the answer "35kms..."
I slapped my head and grimaced! "But I only have 3 miles left in the bike"!
The young lad seemed to understand me as his face dropped to share my predicament.
I asked him to locate me on the map and he pointed to the roundabout junction just beyond la Bussiere, Junction 19 , where the A77 links with the D940 to Gien.
Gien, a town name I remember seeing on one of the small signs some miles back but was now in the opposite direction of travel. I pointed to Gien on my map and asked if there would be fuel there and if cash would be taken.
The young lad said "Oui , 15kms to Gien , cash, buy in town" . Words to that effect at least ,and I understood what he was telling me.
I told him I cannot reach Gien , my tank is registering as near as damn it 'empty', and was there any way he could possibly access and provide me with any fuel at all , even enough to fill my pannier mounted 1 litre bottles , or are they 800ml bottles? I can't remember, it wasn't important, fuel was!
The young lad was doing all he could to assist me and went back in to the Pizzeria before returning to say "I can give you small petrol".
I asked... "2 litres , both of my bottles"?
"Non, just one litre" the reply.
"Merci ...thank you..." Right now I was a beggar, and I wasn't choosy!
I asked "How much"?
He gestured as to say "nothing..."
He cut the top off a plastic bottle to use as a funnel and then poured some fuel into one of my water bottles. For the first time on my whole adventure I not only threw water away but was happy to do so! I borrowed the emergency funnel and placed it in the GS tank and poured my litre , or 800 millilitres of 'free gold dust juice' into the tank. Not one single drop missed the tank!
I approached a young lad , perhaps early to mid 20's in age, but we would have dialect problems. He led me into the Pizzeria but still the language barrier was there with other people.
Few words, but fortunately for me , important words, like fuel/petrol/gas/benzine got the desired reaction. There was minimal understanding between us both but progress was being made nonetheless. He understood I was riding toward Paris when I showed him my map book, and understood when I pointed at my fuel tank, signalling low fuel etc etc.
I held a hand to my chest whilst extending my other hand away from me in an attempt to suggest distance , coupled with an understanding of my low fuel and a garage requirement which resulted in the answer "35kms..."
I slapped my head and grimaced! "But I only have 3 miles left in the bike"!
The young lad seemed to understand me as his face dropped to share my predicament.
I asked him to locate me on the map and he pointed to the roundabout junction just beyond la Bussiere, Junction 19 , where the A77 links with the D940 to Gien.
Gien, a town name I remember seeing on one of the small signs some miles back but was now in the opposite direction of travel. I pointed to Gien on my map and asked if there would be fuel there and if cash would be taken.
The young lad said "Oui , 15kms to Gien , cash, buy in town" . Words to that effect at least ,and I understood what he was telling me.
I told him I cannot reach Gien , my tank is registering as near as damn it 'empty', and was there any way he could possibly access and provide me with any fuel at all , even enough to fill my pannier mounted 1 litre bottles , or are they 800ml bottles? I can't remember, it wasn't important, fuel was!
The young lad was doing all he could to assist me and went back in to the Pizzeria before returning to say "I can give you small petrol".
I asked... "2 litres , both of my bottles"?
"Non, just one litre" the reply.
"Merci ...thank you..." Right now I was a beggar, and I wasn't choosy!
I asked "How much"?
He gestured as to say "nothing..."
He cut the top off a plastic bottle to use as a funnel and then poured some fuel into one of my water bottles. For the first time on my whole adventure I not only threw water away but was happy to do so! I borrowed the emergency funnel and placed it in the GS tank and poured my litre , or 800 millilitres of 'free gold dust juice' into the tank. Not one single drop missed the tank!
Immediately after pouring the fuel in to the GS a car driving customer approached me and offered me a 5 litre plastic can in the event of me potentially having to take some exercise! I accepted and the bottle was secured beneath the cargo net.
I couldn't thank the young lad enough, he had done himself proud whilst digging me out of what was close to becoming a very deep hole!
I couldn't thank the young lad enough, he had done himself proud whilst digging me out of what was close to becoming a very deep hole!
I was back on the road and heading away from Paris but towards my saviour, Gien. I kept the revs low and short-shifted as I counted the kms down whilst keeping a constant eye on the 'range' information. When I left the Pizzeria the range displayed '3 miles'. In very short distance it became '2'. With 6 miles left to Gien the reading was now '- - -'! The computer told me the tank was drier than a dry thing.
I approached a roundabout and deliberately dropped my speed to allow an articulated truck to take the lead and I hoped it would take me right into Gien. I tucked into his slipstream in attempt to reduce as much drag as possible but not so close I couldn't emergency stop if required..
I had finally arrived at Gien, the outskirts at least, and spotted a filling station. When I pulled onto the forecourt my jaw hit the floor as I noticed it was card payment only.
Perhaps the young lad meant go right into town?
I looked to my right and noticed a guy in a Citroen Picasso was looking at me and the bike. He nodded at me and I returned the gesture. I dismounted, approached him and asked "do you speak any English please"? He replied , "Yes, a little."
I explained my predicament and that I had lost my bank cards etc to which he then said "I can help!"
He signalled me to pull next to his car and then asked how much I would like him to put in. He put in 20 Euros before getting fuel for himself and putting it all on his card. I would then hand him the 20 Euros in cash.
Whilst putting the fuel in we had a chat about the GS and he went on to say that he currently owns an R1200R. The chances of stumbling across another motorcycle rider, albeit in his car and at a time like this must have been fairly remote I would have thought. Fantastic...I was on the road again!
I approached a roundabout and deliberately dropped my speed to allow an articulated truck to take the lead and I hoped it would take me right into Gien. I tucked into his slipstream in attempt to reduce as much drag as possible but not so close I couldn't emergency stop if required..
I had finally arrived at Gien, the outskirts at least, and spotted a filling station. When I pulled onto the forecourt my jaw hit the floor as I noticed it was card payment only.
Perhaps the young lad meant go right into town?
I looked to my right and noticed a guy in a Citroen Picasso was looking at me and the bike. He nodded at me and I returned the gesture. I dismounted, approached him and asked "do you speak any English please"? He replied , "Yes, a little."
I explained my predicament and that I had lost my bank cards etc to which he then said "I can help!"
He signalled me to pull next to his car and then asked how much I would like him to put in. He put in 20 Euros before getting fuel for himself and putting it all on his card. I would then hand him the 20 Euros in cash.
Whilst putting the fuel in we had a chat about the GS and he went on to say that he currently owns an R1200R. The chances of stumbling across another motorcycle rider, albeit in his car and at a time like this must have been fairly remote I would have thought. Fantastic...I was on the road again!
It would be 15:30 before I got back to the junction of the Pizzeria to pick my route up again. I sounded the horn several times as a thank you and farewell, though I have no idea whether I caught the young lads attention or not.
I had no idea what to expect from the GS in the low fuel zone but I was well aware that seeing a range of ' - - - ' was not a good thing to have displayed, let alone to continue for another 6 miles beyond it!
I continued on toward and through Nemours where I picked up the D607 through Foret Domaniale De Fontainebleau. This is a very dense forest that lined both sides of the D607 and looked as good an opportunity as any to start looking for a place to bed down, besides, it looked very much like it was going to rain hard. I had broken the back of the mileage today and was knocking on the door of Paris. I pulled into a wide and long lay by on the opposite side of the road after noticing a small clearing on my original side of the road.
In the clearing was parked a Renault Clio , silver in colour with a single occupant at the wheel. On the side of the road I was now on were two articulated trucks. I concluded that this was a regular stop area for many motorists, whilst I crossed the road to check out the clearing. It was gravel track that had a wooden barrier about 20 metres in and preventing unauthorised vehicular access from proceeding any further. In truth, it felt a little too open for pitching the tent and so I took myself back over to the where the GS was parked and removed my map from the pannier to get a bearing on precisely where I was and how much further I had to go.
After 15 minutes of map reading and a couple of smokes the Clio and the woman occupant were still there. I waited, and waited, and waited some more, but she showed no inclination to get back on the road. It had started to rain so I took my map with me through a narrow opening between the forest roughage and a similar barrier, which presumably was also to prevent motorised access, and then stood against a tree for some temporary shelter.
At least a half hour, maybe more, had passed since my arrival here and still 'Clio Woman' sat behind the wheel, smoking her cigarette whilst doing little else. She wasn't going to move, I felt it in my bones. I had no idea how long she'd be here for but she sure as hell wasn't going anywhere.
Whilst I waited some more, moved to different areas in the forest whilst having a continual view of the road, I started analysing the area I was in. I'd decided I would definitely be pitching here tonight.
I noticed a slug on the floor near my helmet! No ordinary slug this one, it was huge and so I decided that having little else to do right now I would take a photo of said slug with a measuring guide alongside it, and for no other reason really other than because it was there, I was there and that I could, so I did!
I had no idea what to expect from the GS in the low fuel zone but I was well aware that seeing a range of ' - - - ' was not a good thing to have displayed, let alone to continue for another 6 miles beyond it!
I continued on toward and through Nemours where I picked up the D607 through Foret Domaniale De Fontainebleau. This is a very dense forest that lined both sides of the D607 and looked as good an opportunity as any to start looking for a place to bed down, besides, it looked very much like it was going to rain hard. I had broken the back of the mileage today and was knocking on the door of Paris. I pulled into a wide and long lay by on the opposite side of the road after noticing a small clearing on my original side of the road.
In the clearing was parked a Renault Clio , silver in colour with a single occupant at the wheel. On the side of the road I was now on were two articulated trucks. I concluded that this was a regular stop area for many motorists, whilst I crossed the road to check out the clearing. It was gravel track that had a wooden barrier about 20 metres in and preventing unauthorised vehicular access from proceeding any further. In truth, it felt a little too open for pitching the tent and so I took myself back over to the where the GS was parked and removed my map from the pannier to get a bearing on precisely where I was and how much further I had to go.
After 15 minutes of map reading and a couple of smokes the Clio and the woman occupant were still there. I waited, and waited, and waited some more, but she showed no inclination to get back on the road. It had started to rain so I took my map with me through a narrow opening between the forest roughage and a similar barrier, which presumably was also to prevent motorised access, and then stood against a tree for some temporary shelter.
At least a half hour, maybe more, had passed since my arrival here and still 'Clio Woman' sat behind the wheel, smoking her cigarette whilst doing little else. She wasn't going to move, I felt it in my bones. I had no idea how long she'd be here for but she sure as hell wasn't going anywhere.
Whilst I waited some more, moved to different areas in the forest whilst having a continual view of the road, I started analysing the area I was in. I'd decided I would definitely be pitching here tonight.
I noticed a slug on the floor near my helmet! No ordinary slug this one, it was huge and so I decided that having little else to do right now I would take a photo of said slug with a measuring guide alongside it, and for no other reason really other than because it was there, I was there and that I could, so I did!
Tick tock ...tick tock... tick tock...
It had gone 17:30hrs and I was becoming impatient with Clio Woman!
A black BMW 3 Series pulled up in front of the GS and then promptly drove to the other side of the road and behind, but to the right of the Clio - I watched.
Now all was becoming clear, very clear in fact!
Clio Woman was alive and moving , not the car though, just the drivers door. Out stepped the woman, her shoulders held high, almost macho like, and I put the probable cause of this down to her short black skirt chaffing her armpits, and started walking to the black Beemer. The passenger door opened , she got in and 10 minutes later she was back in the Clio.
A short while after an Alfa Romeo pulled up , did the turn, parked, she stepped out and entered the Alfa. 10 minutes would pass and the Alfa drove away, leaving Clio Woman to sit and wait once again behind the wheel. This was going to go on all night, I could feel it. Not being privvy to her clientele database I could only assume she was earning far more in an evening than I do all week in my homeland.
It had started to rain quite heavily by now and so with the words "sod this" leaving my lips, I boarded the GS and rode the gap between the bracken, nettles or whatever it was, and the barrier to enter the forest. I cared no longer about being seen to do this and I cared even less about the life and times of Clio Woman. I dare say she had as much interest in my activities as I did hers by now, even though I knew more about hers!
I pitched up beneath a canopy of trees after clearing a circular path around my camp from sticks, branches and anything else that I considered a potential hazard for my 360 turn-around in the morning. I simply could not afford another fall with my foot in the state it was. The tent was pitched before dark but I was concerned about the visibility of both the Khyam and the GS , both indiscreet in their blue livery...not!
I walked back to near the road to see what could be seen of my camp and noticed that the Khyam was pretty much obscured by the trees and general roughage , the GS wasn't! Because the walkway continued deep into the forest I was also concerned about all reflective properties on the GS , reg plate, mirrors etc, just in case a stray torchlight from any walkers/cyclists passing through this way should pick up any detail of the bikes presence. I now have to think dirty!
A black BMW 3 Series pulled up in front of the GS and then promptly drove to the other side of the road and behind, but to the right of the Clio - I watched.
Now all was becoming clear, very clear in fact!
Clio Woman was alive and moving , not the car though, just the drivers door. Out stepped the woman, her shoulders held high, almost macho like, and I put the probable cause of this down to her short black skirt chaffing her armpits, and started walking to the black Beemer. The passenger door opened , she got in and 10 minutes later she was back in the Clio.
A short while after an Alfa Romeo pulled up , did the turn, parked, she stepped out and entered the Alfa. 10 minutes would pass and the Alfa drove away, leaving Clio Woman to sit and wait once again behind the wheel. This was going to go on all night, I could feel it. Not being privvy to her clientele database I could only assume she was earning far more in an evening than I do all week in my homeland.
It had started to rain quite heavily by now and so with the words "sod this" leaving my lips, I boarded the GS and rode the gap between the bracken, nettles or whatever it was, and the barrier to enter the forest. I cared no longer about being seen to do this and I cared even less about the life and times of Clio Woman. I dare say she had as much interest in my activities as I did hers by now, even though I knew more about hers!
I pitched up beneath a canopy of trees after clearing a circular path around my camp from sticks, branches and anything else that I considered a potential hazard for my 360 turn-around in the morning. I simply could not afford another fall with my foot in the state it was. The tent was pitched before dark but I was concerned about the visibility of both the Khyam and the GS , both indiscreet in their blue livery...not!
I walked back to near the road to see what could be seen of my camp and noticed that the Khyam was pretty much obscured by the trees and general roughage , the GS wasn't! Because the walkway continued deep into the forest I was also concerned about all reflective properties on the GS , reg plate, mirrors etc, just in case a stray torchlight from any walkers/cyclists passing through this way should pick up any detail of the bikes presence. I now have to think dirty!
I had a plan , and set about collecting bracken...
Whilst the camouflage look had a certain laughability about it that would soon change as darkness fell. It was perfect! I was reassured by the fact that it started to rain even more heavily thus decreasing the likelihood of passers by being in the forest.
I felt I had managed the GS quite well today considering how painful my foot was just the day before. For the most part the upshifts were ok , generally due to the good D roads in France that permit continual movement and few gear changes. The last 30kms or so were perhaps the worst and so the time to stop was about right.
There was little in the way of incident today except the white van man occasion and my first encounter with, as coincidental as things are, another silver Renault Clio, driven by another woman , though I dare say from a totally different line of work! She decided to overtake me from her immediately behind position to right in front of me and just before the continuous white centre line had prevented further overtaking. Why did she do this? She had nowhere to go and forced me to brake! I pulled out to pass her and looked into her window whilst waving my arm in a similar way to that of the white van man incident and with a similar meaning. She said something back in her native tongue but alas , that damn language barrier again.
Tonights supper would be a tin of beans followed by half a container of Cheese and Chives Pringles and a coffee. It was 21:35hrs , still raining heavily and I had no reason whatsoever to set foot outside the tent before morning.
I was hoping to be home for Saturday so it felt good to have got so much mileage behind me this day. I would only be bringing two gifts home to Jo from this adventure , the 'au naturale' heart shaped stone found at the Jausier campsite and a gift tin of Green Tea that I bought in Val D'Isere.
Tonight I would sleep fully dressed - it was much more like the UK climate here and temperatures had dropped in the forest.
I felt I had managed the GS quite well today considering how painful my foot was just the day before. For the most part the upshifts were ok , generally due to the good D roads in France that permit continual movement and few gear changes. The last 30kms or so were perhaps the worst and so the time to stop was about right.
There was little in the way of incident today except the white van man occasion and my first encounter with, as coincidental as things are, another silver Renault Clio, driven by another woman , though I dare say from a totally different line of work! She decided to overtake me from her immediately behind position to right in front of me and just before the continuous white centre line had prevented further overtaking. Why did she do this? She had nowhere to go and forced me to brake! I pulled out to pass her and looked into her window whilst waving my arm in a similar way to that of the white van man incident and with a similar meaning. She said something back in her native tongue but alas , that damn language barrier again.
Tonights supper would be a tin of beans followed by half a container of Cheese and Chives Pringles and a coffee. It was 21:35hrs , still raining heavily and I had no reason whatsoever to set foot outside the tent before morning.
I was hoping to be home for Saturday so it felt good to have got so much mileage behind me this day. I would only be bringing two gifts home to Jo from this adventure , the 'au naturale' heart shaped stone found at the Jausier campsite and a gift tin of Green Tea that I bought in Val D'Isere.
Tonight I would sleep fully dressed - it was much more like the UK climate here and temperatures had dropped in the forest.