Well, I'm back.

Now that the chain's sorted, I need to do something about the electrics, I
suppose.

We trundled off about 10-ish, had lunch in Verneuil-sur-Avre, and got the
1630 boat from Caen. We dossed around for a few hours, then checked out the
restaurant, which was fab. Portsmouth 2130, home 2330. Thanks to all for
being your bad selves.

 

It was the best Tog Tour I've been on. OK unlike you I didn't take a
difficult Burd with me this year, which is a head start.

Haven't actually ridden a solo this year and the bones held up well enough.
Decent ride to Dover from Tog's. Set off with Neil, Scraggy, Statto and
Nige, I was having difficulty breathing, having watched the annual "I've
lost my keys" waggle dance.... but we soon came to the head of a 'jam on the
closed
M25. Just as I started to moot riding back up the hard shoulder the Fake
Plod opened the road and we were off. Oggie, Nige and myself and a few
others realised we still had plenty of time to make the ferry and had a
sedate bimble to the ferry. I was disgusted at the antics of some other
motorcyclists who treated the newly opened road like a racetrack. They
weren't in our group and possibly headed for the Channel Tunnel. I think
they were Welsh.

The ride from Calais to Pithivier was mostly excellent. It started badly
though. I came off the ferry with little idea of a route but the germ of an
excellent plan. FOLLOW OGGIE, who had done loads of route planning.
Unfortunately Champ abandoned said plan at the first important junction,
unable to contain his youthful zeal, racing ahead just before said junction
and missing the prescribed turn to the right. Now Champ I can understand,
why the rest of the herd followed the 'Busa is a mystery to me!

The free bar was a modern miracle, as were the prices when the treasure
chest ran dry. Dinner (both nights) was excellent. Unusually I was up early
enough for brekkies (also good) on Saturday and considered joining the crowd
for a ride out. I soon realised I had to go find an InterMarche and buy a
funnel to add a litre of oil to the Ducati. OIL is BTW a lot cheaper in IM
than the filling stations. 50% cheaper. That took an hour so I reverted to
Plan B, ride down the Loire Valley to Saumur. I went via Chinon and past the
Troglodyte dwellings, a really enjoyable ride of 150 miles, to find the town
buzzing with Frogs en holiday. Coffee, local wine and Pistachio Eclairs
(Mmmmm) later I realised time had marched on and dinner was "soon". I took
the Peage/Autoroutes home and passed Orleans in a rolling average of 120per.
That's KPH of course. Just got to love French roads/traffic.

The drinking went on until after 0200, with Pip, Nige, Donald, CT, Statto et
all holding up to the bitter end. Enjoyable company, much bollocks talked,
local gutrot imbibed. Thanks to Spete the evening even included some
decent Port.

Arising at a sedate hour on Sunday I caught the tail end of brekkies with
the Bonwicks, Donald appeared, well what was left of him, and discovered
that a whole load of sad barstewards had so scrimped the night before they
were well away and trying to make an early ferry. Others were just about
to leave. Counting time, Donald and I realised these antics were excessive
and took our merry time before setting off up the D22 for Chartres. We had a
fantastic ride, comparable to the Friday's last leg with Nige
and Ogden. Donald stirring the poor little 600 to within an inch of its life
and down to 60 miles to reserve. The Ducati was down from 140 to
100 miles per tank. We made lots of stops, met Tim and Alison meandering up
the road on the Tiger and arrived in Calais with time to spare. My front
tyre is *properly* scrubbed in now.

 

Bugger, that would have reduced the cost of my weekend substantially.
You don't half get some odd looks when sitting at the lights
generating clouds of oil smoke from the front of the bike.

 

Somehow, the phrase "World's Fastest Indian" comes to mind, but that might
be something I read on a t-shirt while Nigel "Monobone" Eaton was trying to
arrange a photoshoot.

It's the challenge, I suppose. They need someone[1] to follow, and most of
them can keep up with me.

The "drinking the bar dry" trick continues to be a source of pride. It was
amusing to see young Neal getting wasted on Armagnac on Friday night.

I never feel much need to hurry in France - I'm already where I want to be.

Did you try any of that La Gatine stuff Donald was sucking on?

We left about 1000 local, which was about right, and arrived at Ouistreham
with about -10 minutes to spare.

What Brownz did on the way out was Portsmouth-Caen on Thursday afternoon,
then stayed at a lovely little auberge in Ouistreham that evening, had a
leisurely breakfast and set off at a sensible time. What we did was to take
the overnight crossing, get booted off at around 0530, wander around in the
mist trying to get breakfast in Caen. There was nowhere open - we had a
croissant each stood in the street and a coffee from a garage, then wobbled
dangerously through the mist with our visors steamed up. The quality of the
restaurant aboard the Mont-St-Michel on the way back was the decider. Next
time, we do it Brownzstyle.


[1]or something[2]
[2]Satnav generation[3]
[3]Different in my day[4]
[4]We used to be able to find our way from Murmansk to Timbuktu with only a
scrawl on an old envelope in thick charcoal pencil

 

I did, having drawn his attention to it - it was the poster in the bar
that caught my eye, the blurb commencing with "Des Champs", which I saw
as apposite. He enquired of the wonderful Nicolas (BarGarcon
Extraudinaire) and on finding it was i) a local brew; ii) possess of a
decent abv (7.2%) and iii) cheap, latched on to it like a babe finding a
better breast.

I'll confess to finding it not immediately to my taste, being a bit
wheaty, but as often happens, inhibitions melted away in the face of
several more of the same. It was quite nice, really - and certainly
effective ;-)

 

Indeed. We drank the entire whip in about an hour and a quarter. The
exchange rate really fucking hurts, dunnit?

That said, I reckon the entire weekend was still good value, partly due
to the cheap ferry deal which offset the euro effect to an extent.

Free places went to Scraggy and (honest, no cheating involved) The
Doctor.

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, platypus

That Kiran's a right miserable ****, inne?

And alright already with the collarbone shit. Anyone can make a mistake;
I mean, look at... No; no. Let's not go there.

Indeed. I was in equal measure amused and horrified to see Pip getting
stuck into the prune liqueur.

I never cease to be amazed and amused by empty, well-surfaced, open
autoroutes just crying out to be attacked at high speed.

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - "He's hopeless, but he's honest"

I have already made the greatest contribution to the fight against climate
change that I can make: I have decided not to breed. Now quit bugging me and
go and talk to the Catholics.

 

And scraggy the bastard got the big bed in my room

Thoroughly nice chap though, so that helps

--


Nige,

BMW K1200S
Range Rover Vogue
Aprilia RSV Mille

 

Where's Hog, you imposting ****?

 

That's what happened on the M25 before we even got to Dover, innit?

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, The Older

I have no idea, I was snoring chez-Weller at the time. (Thanks again,
Kevin and Lyn, BTW).

There's something absolutely lovely about French roads. I think it's the
semi-deserted nature of them, coupled with relatively switched-on
drivers (Belgies and visiting Brits excluded, obviously).

That and the *ever* present warnings from oncoming traffic that Les
Flics are in the next village.

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - "He's hopeless, but he's honest"

I have already made the greatest contribution to the fight against climate
change that I can make: I have decided not to breed. Now quit bugging me and
go and talk to the Catholics.

 

Switched on? Hmmmm not the soppy cow on the D22 a few miles north-east
of Pithiviers. Cautious of the reminder over Saturday night's meal that
we'd been blatting through villages without right of way, I kept an eye
on madam approaching from the right. She stopped at the mandatory sign
and road markings only to pull out just as I had re-applied beans. Good
thing it was at a cross-road well outside of any village and there was
nobody else around. I wonder if she understood doppler affected
"cccchhhhaaaaannnnntttttttt" as we passed her.

 

I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to contribute to a increase in
your self-knowledge. And I'm sure you're pleased to know you have WUN more
bone than you thought you had.

You might have phrased that a little less ambiguously, you know.

 

Using the patented Mavis Beacon "Hunt&Peck" Technique, Kevin Weller

I don't think Pip really enjoyed the Peripherique. He seemed to be in
urgent need of nicotine afterwards.

Oh yes. We met another going North who was crawling past a local. His
reaction to having a bike closing at > 40 MPH was... to brake.

--
Wicked Uncle Nigel - "He's hopeless, but he's honest"

I have already made the greatest contribution to the fight against climate
change that I can make: I have decided not to breed. Now quit bugging me and
go and talk to the Catholics.

 

It wasn't an orange and white car was it?

 

Oh I did the gentle cruising along the river side also

I put my nose to it and decided against!

I would have liked to do the long crossing but then I also like the
Tunnel. Shame they won't do a deal for Tog.

 

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Twice I've encountered these twats in the Peak District, holding up the
traffic at 50mph. Twice had to overtake into the middle of the merry band.
They sound horns and flash lights. WTF do they think they are!

I've yet to see an HD in the UK I wanted. TBF I have seen some in the US
that were so amazingly re-engineered and looked sufficiently light that I
could....

 

You need to work your way through from the back, picking off the stragglers,
flipping their kill-switches as you pass, watching them wobble into the
ditch in your mirrors...

 

Four additional lines, to make the total 109.

FFS, that makes Nige look competent.

 

I'll have you know I was in my pit and snoring like a good 'un by 0130!

I did feel a bit sorry for neighbours Mark Reid & A when I found out
that ogden was the other side of them.