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)

Bum Wee and Sun at Last

Where was we... O yes in the club barn pissed up on a one wheeled bike.

When we got around to one of the major concerns of any right thinking biker .... Having a Poo...

Or not as the case may be. There was by now, after so much sea food and beer, a general churning of guts with far to much wind involved. We got to... when did you last go, was it a good one and of even consistency? Usual sort of questions. Answers ranged from solid from riding all day to piping bag and the worst fear of all to any biker all done up in wet weather gear "BUM WEE".

I'm sure I need not explain any more you all know what I'm talking about. Needless to say one of us could even spell all of it and wrote it in the dirt on Clunks bike. Oh we did laugh.

First thing in the morning he was out washing his bike ready for the day , not a mention of the little message left for him ( it was just dirty) . He missed the same on his number plate left by some monkeys who rode behind him saying Ha look at the bike with rude words on it (in France where they speaks French) no one but they had any idea what it said.

Any way we set off for a day in the sun and a ride around some of the coast and river valleys.

We headed for Larmor Plage a small seaside place which has a market on a Sunday morning. On this Sunday they also had an Art market... Well what can I say ... ... I know it was shit....

Unbelievable I have in fact been to this market before and it was the same then even down to the place that the seller (I Won't call them Artists) sat a flogging the stuff. We had fun and went to a cafe for some breakfast.. Four coffees and four beers says I to the fine looking young lady who invited us in " you have some Friends come " she demanded " No that's our breakfast" we explained. "English" said she and wiggled away for our beverages, dear of her. What a great way to start any day eyeing up the ass of a young french girl then beer and coffee which was probably better for us.

From the cafe we went along the coast which was stunning. With fantastic view's on a bendy road. Coming around a bend and seeing the sea and a beach just takes your breath away and being on the bike you get to smell the air and really feel your surroundings as well... Fab.

We rode to Guidel and the on to Le Pouldu for lunch in a crepe restaurant. Coming from the lizard we was surprised to see this place cos we have one too its called Poldhu Cove. Just another example of how close Cornwall and Brittany really are. they share so much in language and culture its a shame more isn't made of it.

Anyway on the beach Bullfrog decided to get all Arty himself taking a few snaps after seeing a reflection in some of the shiney bits on our bikes. Not his bike, cos it is a pile of do..doo.
Him having A level photoing and all, and may be trying to make his dear old mum proud of him her being so arty er self









Not a bit of it! .... What he actually said was
"Check out the funny faces i can pull in this here mirrory thing,,,, I look fucking wearied".
Very Arty we all thought.

Then onward from the sea we went, inland towards Quimperle. A nice little town where two rivers seem to join. Again some great roads all bends and turns really good for riding, not that head down, ass up lashed to the tank of a plastic bullet, dressed in outrageous coloured leather kind of riding, but the kind that gives you time to enjoy everything around you and remember that life is good.

So after many miles of country side we stopped off for some afternoon beer a funny place right by the side of this lovely river I think was the Scoff. What a place even had a fake stork on the roof. We made an impression on the owner who wanted to take our picture... So we let her....

Did she know we was star's about to appear in the local paper. Was it cos we looked so hard and mean on our hogs.. Well bikes then, Or was it cos we was so drop dead gorgeous.

Who knows anyway she took the pic's, we had the beer and All was well. We looked great and cool as you like as we sped away I'm sure.

Breaking a few hearts along the way is just part of the game......

Finally we ended up at our great friends Gail and Bob who had invited us for a Bar Bee.

It was great more beer and meat what more do lads need.We met up with Richard and Claire and there very new little boy (well done Rich) and some new french ladies ....

great fun was had by all. THANK YOU Bob and Gail we miss you, then back home to the club barn for some much earn sleep. Which I was ready for after one of the best days riding with four of my best mates, I have ever had.

TA