Gibraltar Or Bust

SUNDAY 1st AUGUST 2007

The next morning was a different story Mike rustled up a full English with French bangers (pork and paprika). It didn't touch the sides. Even the fried eggs were well received!
We attended to the bikes. Oil, tappets, tyre pressures etc. Only two problems turned up. Bill was now getting almost 85 m.p.g. However, he thinks if he switches to a thicker grade of oil, this figure should begin to rise a little.


There was not much that could be done about Bill’s oil consumption en route, except to keep a close eye on it to make sure it didn't run dry and to make sure that Bill rode at the back. I thought he'd left the smoke machine in Worcester?

The other problem was that Henry's bike was leaking oil from the inlet oil banjo connector. We managed to develop our first fault and it needed a copper washer which none of us had! Heads were being scratched to come up with a French translation for "copper washer".

Henry tightened things down as much as he could safely do and we all set off with Mike leading the way towards Bordeaux. This being Sunday and the fact that we were in France meant that we had almost as much chance of finding a free lunch as finding a copper washer shop. The same applies to Petrol! Strange country, France. If it's Sunday, then it's shut. Saying that, we did manage to find an unattended petrol station that had an automatic pump that took Visa.

We continued on through several sleepy towns and villages, most of which were made up of narrow streets with blocks of houses, four or five stories high that opened out right onto the narrow pavementWe were making our way through one such "Ville"......

That's when it happened.......

Bill was riding number two as we were coming up to a set of traffic lights. All of a sudden, Bill's bike let out a thunderous backfire and the whole scene in front of me disappeared in a cloud of blue / black smoke! The volume seemed to be amplified by the proximity of the buildings.

When the smoke cleared, Bill's carb was hanging like a severed head, Several people on the pavement had their hands over their hearts. One woman had her hand over her arse. An old fellow on the other side of the road was checking his fob watch. I can only assume that he thought that the noon day gun had gone off early? Two minutes later, the carb was re-attached and we were underway again.

We rode on as we had agreed, two hours or so, followed by a ten minute break. After a while, we found a converted petrol station that sold filled baguettes. That was lunch sorted. Oil levels were checked and we topped up Bill's bike, again. It had earned the nick-name "Amoco Cadiz" due to the amount of black stuff it was losing.

We rode through the French countryside with fields of sunflowers watching over us. Before we reached Bordeaux, Mike waved us off and headed back for Perignac.

We missed our turning as we approached Bordeaux and ended up riding right through the centre of the city. What a nice mistake to make. A lovely place. We hooked up the Sat Nav and we were soon winging our way out of Bordeaux, going south towards Biarritz.

The weather was getting warmer and the countryside was getting more rural. We were riding on a Motorway class road (the N10) through beautiful pine forests with mile upon mile of fragrant yellow flowered Broom.




LE MAGIC CLOTH




We took a break at one of the many picnic areas that are to be found along the road. Henry sparked up his petrol primus time-bomb and we soon had a cuppa in our hands. After a leak and another check of the bikes, we started to put our coats and helmets back on.

We decided that, as time was marching on, we would ride for about another hour and then look for a camp site. As I was sorting out my Ipod, Bill started his bike and started to tootle off. Henry and I discussed the pros and cons of music and riding for a minute and then we started up and made for the slip road to find Bill.

Thats's when it happened......

Bill was nowhere to be seen. Henry and I couldn't believe that he'd just blasted off down the motorway without us? I did a quick tour of the picnic area to see if he was about. Still no Bill. So we set off blindly down the motorway to see if we could find him.
We had, up to now, kept our speeds to around 50 or so. I set off at around 75 / 80 for 20 minutes to catch him up. Still no Bill. I had passed several services and Pit-Stops and slowed down as I passed each one to have a good look out for him. After 20 minutes, I stopped on the hard shoulder, just before an exit and waited for Henry. We decided that I'd wait on the motorway bridge and Henry would retrace our steps checking each Pit-Stop and junction along the road to see if he could flush him out. I got my bike up onto the bridge and Henry set off North bound. I managed to get my bike up onto the narrow pavement on the bridge, to get it off the road and to let it act as a beacon to Bill.
Then, as I tried to dismount, I lost balance and both me and the bike were lying in the road! I managed to crawl clear and some kind soul stopped and helped me get it back upright again.
Time was passing and I had doubts that we would ever regain contact with Bill this side of home. Bill had a mobile phone but didn't have any credit on it, let alone have it configured to work in France. The only logical thing I could think that he might do is to do the E.T. thing and phone home!

I decided to call Naomi, Bill's wife, and see if he had called.
"Hello Naomi, It's Tim"
"Oh - I'm fine thanks, and you?"
“The weather, oh it’s wonderfull…”
"Oh yes, were all OK thanks........except......"
"We seem to have lost Bill,..... a little bit!"

Everything considered, I think she was very calm. She promised to call me if he called her and I told her I'd let her know when (meaning “if”) we found him. Henry returned about an hour later and we decided that there was little more we could do so we said that we would carry on down the motorway and look for a camp site. We were both glum, the three were now two.
All-in-all, it had now been some 90 minutes since we'd last seen Bill. We set off south and after about 20 minutes I saw an exit which said fuel (I was getting low) and camping. I indicated right and checked behind to make sure Henry saw it.

Then, just as I was running up the slip road, there he was. The silly old sod! Bike parked on the edge of the slip road, Bill was sat on the armco barrier like a Garden Gnome! As we came to a halt and got off, Bill proceeded to bollock us.

"Where the blazes have you two been, I've been waiting here for ages?"
I didn't know whether to hug him or just kick him off the armco and down into the ditch! We got back on our bikes and set about following the signs for "Camping Lou Payou"



CAMPING LOU PAYOU

The site was less than a mile from the junction and was a small family run site that was almost empty. The unforeseen problem was that they had used sand to make up the tracks on the site and the top-heavy bikes didn't like it one bit. Once we allowed for it we managed without dropping any of the bikes.
We decided that the tents could wait a bit. We set about making Bill fluent in the necessary French phrases.
Bill approached the shop / reception / cafe.

"Trois beers s'il vouz plait mamoiselle....... por favour, thank you"

Well he came back with three cold ones so - success. We were about to down in one when Bill stopped us. "Toast!" he cried.

GENTLEMEN, I GIVE YOU 'THE QUEEN'

Beer always tastes better when the sun's out. After a couple more, we set about making camp and getting some nosh underway.

We phoned Naomi and put her mind at rest. She made me promise that we would make sure that Bill was "the meat in the sandwich" from now on.


IT'S TALL BUT NOT VERY WIDE?


The tents went up without too much trouble and we dined on Bully Beef and Beans from our supplies with French bread from the shop along with a bottle or two of red stuff.

STATISTICS DAY 3
201 miles from Perignac to Camplig Lou Payou
544 miles in total
Average 181 miles per day