Homeward We Must Go

All packed up and sorted out it was time to say good bye to all of our french friends.
We gave breakfast to the horses and I made sure that Jeff, this great big old fellow who I get to ride from time to time, had a extra special bit all to himself.





There were so many people we didn't get to see (Sorry Tammy and Dan) we would have if we could have, and we will next time.




At least the sun was shining and the roads looked dry. By the time we had got it together, stuffed all our bits into bags and tied them down, we needed to get a move on.

We set off for Roscoff and the boat back to Plymouth. Things where looking up, fine weather, dry roads and lunch to look forward to on route. Its a good road, if a bit fast at times and lots of opportunity's for Mr Jondamm the policeman to stop you and demand cash for driving too fast as he see's it. We being sensible folks ... ignored this completely and shot off like the wind. Then down came the rain. It came down, across from the right, then from the left. It came in sheets, buckets, misty-type, monsoon-type in fact it came every way you could think of even, at one time, back up off the road straight at us.

Lunch was a welcome break as we pulled into the small village of La Feuillee.

A nice looking place, if a little on the quite side. In fact with no one in sight. It was a bit like one of those western films when the four riders ride into town and tumble weed blows down the main street.

We was bloody starving and the restaurant was FUCKING SHUT !!!!!! it being a Monday. WHY?

Does no one eat on Monday's? Maybe that's why French birds are so skinny! Who knows?

Anyway we did find this outrageous cafe that was open. It was fab, like some well over the top knocking shop all done in red silk, lights and leather, with little booths and a nice little garden full of blokes smoking. So maybe it was a knocking shop, who knows? We had a very welcome cup of coffee, established that there was no food to be had, left puddles where ever we stood and then left to get the boat.

On the way just out side of Roscoff is this tank. A well known landmark for all you regular travellers to France from Plymouth. Bullfrog couldn't resist stopping for a pic or two get some inspiration for the rat bike. It must have worked cos when he got back home he ordered an old German helmet, a gas mask and various other bits of crap to add to the pile he rides around on (still cant believe the amount of interest that bike gets, its just a pile of rubbish. Good though , don't tell him he'll only get worst)
We finally made it to the boat and by the looks of things it was going to be a bit of a rough crossing. It takes six hours normally. On the new boat that Brittany Ferries run it can be quicker but on this crossing, it was the oldest tub on the high sea's. The bikes were lashed down to the deck with pads and strops. We looked on with horror as far too much strain was put on bits not intended to be treated in such a way. By the time they had finished and we had checked that nothing was broken we went in search of food and drink.

We did food in the shelter of the port and very good it was after our long ride. Then away to the bar just as the boat went out to sea.
Being Old Salty Sea Dogs we ordered four pints and held on to the bar using one hand to drink and the other to keep from flying around.

It was great. Kids crying, people screaming, falling over, being sick into little bags. Funny thing, the sick bags are really small, what if you have loads of sick, and by the look of things most did, it really hard to stop being sick in mid flow as you fill one bag and desperately reach for another. It was like a chain reaction and not all made it to the bags.

We held on and went for more beer very nice it was , up and down ,up and down the boat went. We asked some bloke to take our picture "All right "he said "but you'll have to be quick" , and by the look of the pic he wasn't kidding. He didn't even get it in focus, poor bloke feeling sea sick and trying to look through a very small window on the camera was just to much for him as he passed the camera back he went green and that was the last we saw of him.

It was the end of our trip. We had the best time.

Everything would be back to normal as soon as we landed in the UK. Job's-worth unloading staff at the port would try to tell us we would get knocked off our bikes if we didn't do as they said. Car divers would try to cut us up as we made our way out of Plymouth. The rain would piss on us continuously all the way home, even MacDonald's would be shut when we was hungry again, but we didn't know all of this. We was all a bit quite and wished we was going and not coming back.

Ha Ho there's always next time and there will be a next time I'm sure.

THANK YOU TO ALL WHO MADE THIS ONE OF THE BEST TRIPS I HAVE EVER HAD.

(THE OTHERS MIGHT HAVE A DIFFERENT VIEW)