#  >  > Non Asia Travel Forums >  >  > Travel the World Travellers Tales Forum >  >  The race back to Britain, 2017

## somtamslap

This time next week I shall be situated on French/Spanish border. I will have with me a bicycle. And my plan is to ride it, as quickly as my legs allow, back to the United Kingdom. 

Unlike a tour I did a couple of years back from Land's End to John O' Groats, there will be a time constraint in place ( a pre-booked ferry) which means I have five days to get from the south to the north of France  this equates to at least 100 miles of cycling per day, which in turn will most probably equate to a severely dented psyche and a moderately pounded batty. Yet a hiatus away from the rigours and travails of modern life in the western world is sorely needed, and a week or so a-wheel on the continent should shake out a few cobwebs - not to mention the added benefit that I shall be spending the lion's share of time in a country which evented drinking wine for breakfast. Oh yes, let's make no bones about this  although the daily riding mileage will be high, so indeed will be the consumption of vin rouge. 

I've ridden a reasonable amount of mileage so far this year, but most of that has come via commutes to work which just about amounts to thirty miles per go  not the most arduous of tests. So last Saturday I decided it high time to give my legs a thorough and concise workout by way of a 70-mile jaunt through the South Downs. And I'll confess right now that I'm a little concerned. I concluded that little amble after having accumulated an alarming amount of aches and pains. And that certainly doesn't bode well for the gargantuan bollocking I'm about to give my thighs.

To make things better after this unpleasant wake up call I made haste to the local chip shop and relieved them of 10 pounds worth of traditional English fare  after all, the onslaught of snails and onions and what-have-you is imminent.




I'm eshewing GPS options this time around in favour of traditional mapping - you know where you stand with a map, I hope.



Will keep the thread updated throughout the week, and take you along on the journey with me.

Let's see if I've got the bottle. 

Wish me luck.

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## wasabi

Wish you luck, beware of those Tuk Tuks .

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## Neverna

Good luck.   :UK: 


Bon Voyage. 



Chok dee.

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## hick

Nice one STS!!  Wishing you a fruitful and worthwhile journey.



Me mudda has taken to European cycling for the last 3 years with her college roommate.  

They've "done" planned routes in France, Italy and most recently, Estonia.

I believe their days vary but they average 35/45 miles a day.

They're around 70 y/o (!!) 



Have a great trip!

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## UrbanMan

> a hiatus away from the rigours and travails of modern life in the western world is sorely needed


Seems to be a dash of this in most threads lately.

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## nidhogg

Bon voyage and bonne chance.

Good luck mate.

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## jimbobs

I bought a bike yesterday and went on a 30 min journey 
I'm fucked today 
That's epic what you're doing 
Good luck

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## Scottish Gary

When i saw the thread headline i thought this was going to be a story about Brit pensioners living in Spain post Brexit

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## Chittychangchang

> although the daily riding mileage will be high, so indeed will be the consumption of vin rouge.


Your going to need some serious carbs Slap, might want to take a peek at this...



Best of luck :Smile:

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## bobo746

Good onya mate ballsy effort.Just think how good the beers will taste at the end of the day. :Smile:

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## Chittychangchang

Some stylish cyclists in France, looking forward to your pics.

Here's a few to wet your appetite...

















 :Smile:

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## somtamslap

Thanks all - it's nice to have the support of the TD collective.

As  well as the increased daily mileage, there's a couple of aspects of  this trip which is going to make it a tougher than 2015's LeJog.

Firstly,  my French is 'ou est la picine' at best. Communication will certainly  be an issue and could ultimately amount to both starvation and sleeping  in the fucking woods, or on the beach ( ou est la plague). But I suppose  most importantly Kronenbourg is still Kronenbourg, so if things  starting getting dodgy I shall hole up in a local bar/tabac and make the  best of a bad situation by blowing the froth off several dozen litres  of that most delicious of alcohlic beverages and startling madamoiselles  with loud, abnoxious and possibly amorous barkings of ' ou est le  bonk'. 

Four years of secondary school French lessons were not, repeat not, wasted on Monsieur Slap.

Secondly,  I have opted - for reasons only known to the inner-most workings of my  subconscious - to undertake this journey in early spring. If you are on  nodding terms with Northern European weather patterns you will  understand that this probably isn't the wisest of times to go. Even  central Spain at this time of the year is erratic with regards to both  temperature and rainfall, and looking at the forecast for the next week  at the French/Spanish border one is met with a smorgasbord of varying  degrees of shite weather... 

100 miles in the rain. Erm. How can I put this? Ou est la gare?

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## klong toey

Good luck Mr Slap just remember they ride  on the wrong side of the road across the channel.

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## somtamslap

> Good luck Mr Slap just remember they ride on the wrong side of the road across the channel.


 Mr T, if I might refer you to exhibit A. Pictured below is a road in France. Notice that running parallel is a narrow lane custom designed for bicycles - a bike path, if you will. If the French have done anything right, it's cycling infrastucture. They have fucking bossed it.



Now all that's required is to get there - by train, no plane - and point my bicycle in a northerly direction. I have downloaded a suitable soundtrack for this little expedition...

Listen dis...

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## Dillinger

looks a piece of piss compared to your Lands End to john o groats slog, mate.
You should be able to do that not half but fully twatted.

Can we have an itinerary of what towns youre gonna be stopping at for clunge pics?

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## Albert Shagnasty2017

> 


Now there's a saddle I'd love to sniff!

Top work Slap. May the wind be on your back.
I'll be back in London for a while in the next few months so might join you for a cycle down the chippy  :Smile:

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## chassamui

Bon chance mon ami.
Was looking at a new Schwann (sp) road bike today but the legs are in a parlous state, as are the job prospects.
Book yersel in for a Thai massage when yer get back buddy.  :Wink:

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## Chittychangchang

Check this one out, 2 mins of heaven..

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## klong toey

> Mr T, if I might refer you to exhibit A. Pictured below is a road in France


That's good news when i lived in Tressan they had cut out policeman by the side of the road to try and prevent speeding.
So don't be fooled if you think you have spotted a policeman no need to slow down its probably a wooden cut out. :Smile:

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## somtamslap

> Can we have an itinerary of what towns youre gonna be stopping at for clunge pics?


 The itinerary is basically ride this...



...as quickly as possible. The quicker I get to the top, the quicker I can put my feet up in a little bar/tabac and consume obscene quantities of bierre et frites.






> Top work Slap. May the wind be on your back.


 Cheers Alberto. But I think, as some research has suggested, the only wind at my back is gonna be coming via my arse. Northern winds are apparently very much en vogue in the south of France.






> Bon chance mon ami.


 Cheers Chaz. 




> Book yersel in for a Thai massage when yer get back buddy


 Yes, I'm going to require several hours of boisterous manipulation upon my return, mainly concentrating on the backside I fear.

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## Digby Fantona

I have driven that route in a 2.3 Cortina and enjoyed it, stopping in Bayonne and Bordeaux. My mate has a pub in a village called Plouye in Brittany so if you fancy a pint go there. It is called "Tafarn Ty Elise". Beautiful part of the world !

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## Dillinger

didnt Withnall do some cattle worrying in Brittany not so long back?

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## klong toey

There was a rumour going around that Stoker had a penchant for baguettes. 
The story I heard was the traffic cone was removed and in went the loaf.

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## Luigi

Gordon Bennett. 

Good on ya Slappers. 'ell of a ride. 


Did a two week summer bike tour of Brittany when I was 14 with me pops. Lovely place. 




Was able to get a few porno rags back too, sold from the local grocery shops. Fokin top trip that was.  :Smile:

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## somtamslap

> didnt Withnall do some cattle worrying in Brittany not so long back?


 Withnall has friends in Brittany, some of who are actually human and don't go 'baa'.






> Did a two week summer bike tour of Brittany when I was 14 with me pops.


 You look fucking livid there mate - hilly in Brittany, isn't it.  :Very Happy: 

Of the whole trip, though, this seven kilometre section will probably be the trickiest part to negotiate. Still, I have three hours to do it, so the unflappable Monsieur Slap should face no significant difficulties.

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## somtamslap

> It is called "Tafarn Ty Elise". Beautiful part of the world !


 The pub or Brittany? I'll try both to be on the safe side.

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## Digby Fantona

Bernard, known as Bun, met Elise. He could not speak French, she could not speak English. They married within days of meeting each other. The pub was named after her.

Proper beer and whisky, not full of French people sucking red wine.

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## DrB0b

Have to say Slap, you've gone way down in my estimation since you turned into a MAMIL. It's on the same level of religious zealotry as a door-knocking Jehovahs Witness or a blissed out hare krisna looking for donations at the airport.

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## yortyiam

All the best for your trip, somtam!  I need someone to inspire me to put a few miles on my own bike, which has been sitting idle in the garage. Looking forward to hearing your tales along the way too.

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## nidhogg

> Have to say Slap, you've gone way down in my estimation since you turned into a MAMIL. It's on the same level of religious zealotry as a door-knocking Jehovahs Witness or a blissed out hare krisna looking for donations at the airport.


Cheers DrBob.  Never a wasted day when someone learns something new:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mamil

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## somtamslap

> Have to say Slap, you've gone way down in my estimation since you turned into a MAMIL.


 I'm not a MAMIL, bob. I'm a hardcore muthafuckin' long distance enduro dude. Big difference.






> Looking forward to hearing your tales along the way too.


 Cheers man. Looking forward to getting on the road now. Just busy downloading some suitable audio books for the occasion.

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## Chittychangchang

MAMIL-It looks so wrong but feels so right :Smile: 
Don't knock it till you've tried it,  nothing compares to the look on a  check out woman when you buy a lucozade and a banana during your ride break and she carn't keep her eyes of your lycra covered walnut whip  :rofl:

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## somtamslap

I've managed top get hold of a Specialized adventure bike for this ittle excursion, and since the day of departure is fast approaching — I'm staying near St Pancras on Sunday night ready for an early train down to the Spanish/French border on Monday morning — I thought I'd better give her a quick shake down.



The modus operandi of an adventure bike is to chomp away at any kind of terrain and at the same time keep the rider relatively comfortable. And yes, it pretty much did just that.



But, however, I appear to be quite worryingly under-geared, meaning that it's very easy to spin out the pedals when going down hill and even on the flat — getting up to a decent speed is next to impossible. The cassette at the back here is clearly suited to hilly off-road rides - which works to a degree as parts of the ride are, erm, hilly and off-road.





The eye-catching double denim finishes this little mule off quite nicely, though.

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## klong toey

Good friend of mine builds bikes for a living this is his bike. Very small front sprocket think that would make it quite fast on the flat.

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## somtamslap

> Very small front sprocket think that would make it quite fast on the flat.


 It'd do the opposite. Looks very similar in spec to mine. I could do with the company - saddle up, man.

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## klong toey

> Originally Posted by klong toey
> 
> Very small front sprocket think that would make it quite fast on the flat.
> 
> 
>  It'd do the opposite. Looks very similar in spec to mine. I could do with the company - saddle up, man.


He lives in British Colombia in Canada it is a bit hilly there.

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## chassamui

Road bike or a crossover would be best for this trip. Maybe with a well broken in Brooks saddle.

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## Smug Farang Bore

Lol....

He's got you all going again. 

Sittin in the spoons with me writing the copy for the thread while I'm down loading the pics of the route....  :Smile: 

Suckered. ...  :Smile:

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## Chittychangchang

^
Carn't be any worse than Screwed Munter :Smile: 


Going to need another drinks holder Slap, maybe something like these..

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## somtamslap

> Sittin in the spoons with me writing the copy for the thread while I'm down loading the pics of the route....


 Start working on the front cover mate - it's gonna need onions and berets and stripy shirts, that kind of shit.




> Going to need another drinks holder Slap, maybe something like these..


 As long as I get my daily quota of regional alcohol of an evening, all will be rosy.

Speaking of regional alcohol, carb-loading has begun in earnest...

Behold! Doner kebab pizza accompanied by the requisite two litres of premium strength French bierre.

C'est tres ruddy bien. N'est-ce pas?

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## Dillinger

have you gone out and bought matching white spandex yet with a double denim gusset ?

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## lom

What horrible things have you done that justifies this self-punishment?

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## patsycat

One of my favourite parts of France, i used to go and visit friends across the border Irun, we would walk for hours on the beaches.

Dont forget to give the nuns a little wave when the train stops in Lourdes, supposed to bring good luck!

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## nidhogg

> Dont forget to give the nuns a little wave when the train stops in Lourdes, supposed to bring good luck!


With your hand Slap - with your hand only.  No waving anything else at those nuns.

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## somtamslap

> have you gone out and bought matching white spandex yet with a double denim gusset ?


Yes, of course. Stay tooned for pics of my lycra clad batty.






> What horrible things have you done that justifies this self-punishment?


 Lots of things - but hopefully some of this may pass as, well, not fun exactly, but a reasonable way to pass the time.






> One of my favourite parts of France, i used to go and visit friends across the border Irun, we would walk for hours on the beaches.


 Nice to hear, Pats. Yes, much of this ride will take in coastal roads so I'm looking forward to gazing out to sea and soothing the soul.






> With your hand Slap - with your hand only. No waving anything else at those nuns.


 Well that's no fun. 

I'm officially on the road. The bike is with Eurostar dispatch in St Pancras and I'm holed-up in the dingiest little hotel in London. It's so small in here you could practically have a shower and be in bed at the same fucking time. And it's too hot and I can't turn of the ruddy radiator.  I suppose you get what you pay for. Although in Siam (you lucky BASTARDS) the same money - 38 squid - would get me a month's worth of five star beach side luxury.

One mustn't grumble though, because the pub is just over yonder and I'm just about to sink a sackful of ale.

The short journey up to town.



The South Bank was hustle and bustle as usual.



The room - in all of its wallpaper-peeling glory.

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## Smug Farang Bore

Oh Slap....

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## Chittychangchang

No saddle bags this time?
Gone for the more aerodynamic modus operandi i see.
Safe travels.

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## Bogon

Bon Voyage Slappers.

All the best on the ride.

Don't come running back here pretending you got 'saddle sore'. We all know how handsome them French dudes can be.  :Smile:

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## Neo

I've always wanted to ride that route, albeit at a more leisurely pace.. looking forward to this.  :Smile:

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## hallelujah

> I've always wanted to ride that route, albeit at a more leisurely pace.. looking forward to this.


Indeed. Slap's threads rarely disappoint.

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## somtamslap

A quick update.

I currently find myself in some grotty little hostelry in Bordeaux. Yes, Bordeaux. 

My train from Paris stood static on the tracks in the middle of France yesterday afternoon due to 'luggage' (I must learn to speak this language), and this meant I missed my connection to the border. 

So the plan has changed and I will ride home from here. Firstly though I must shake off the effects of eight bottles of Heineken and a carafe of vin rouge (Bordeaux) - my head is bastard banging.

I'm aiming my bicycle towards a place called Soulac-Sur-Mer and will hopefully stick some pics on here this evening.

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## Neverna

And from Soulac-Sur-Mer take a ferry to Royan?  Or does your new bike have water wings?  :Smile:

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## Bogon

^ Damn, just looked at Royan and they have a place called PLANET EXOTICA (yes, labelled in capital letters). 

Clicked it and turns out it's a botanical garden of some sorts and not a place with whips, chains and candle wax dripped on your nipples.

As you were Slappers...

Looking forward to the update.

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## somtamslap

> And from Soulac-Sur-Mer take a ferry to Royan?


 That's the plan.

80 flat miles from Bordeaux to Soulac yesterday, all along a cycle path - the French, it has to be said, have nailed cycling infrastructure.






> ^ Damn, just looked at Royan and they have a place called PLANET EXOTICA (yes, labelled in capital letters).


 Cheers Boggles, I'll certainly keep an eye out for that.

The  two days of travelling down here totally took it out of me (I drunk a wee bit too much booze), and I'm shirking pictorial duties due to being to fucking knackered to go through the whole photobucket rigmarole. 

Will hopefully get on it later today.

Pointing the bike at Nantes, 138 miles up the road.

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## bsnub

> 80 flat miles from Bordeaux to Soulac yesterday


What was your average speed?

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## somtamslap

> PLANET EXOTICA (


 I saw a sign for it, Boggles, and took a picture just for you. 






> What was your average speed?


 15mph for that. But it included negotiating a way out of Bordeaux, and I'm fully laden here. The backpack is causiing me quite a bit of grief, as is the French predispodition for taking siestas at exactly the same time as I want lunch. 

In La Rochelle at present with a gut full of moules et frites and Stella Artois.

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## Neverna

> In La Rochelle at present with a gut full of moules et frites and Stella Artois.


Superb. Much better than grilled pork on a stick with sticky rice and a Leo.   :Smile:

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## somtamslap

i'm at the top. a week on the road has rendered me rather fucking knackered. will add pics when i get home.

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## bsnub

> 15mph for that.


That's a long day.

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## dirk diggler

Good effort man, best of luck to you!

I waz skydiving in Pattaya a couple of weeks ago and i met an absolute legend of a man that goes by the name of Jo Skeats. This guy, 23 years old, had cycled there from uk.

Hopefully ill be in Songkhla when he arrives after cambodia, vietnam and laos.

You can check his blog and route here https://www.google.co.kr/search?ie=U...CZKl8wf_mr7oDw

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## Neverna

I hope Slap is OK. No word from him for a couple of days.

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## Chittychangchang

Last heard off stomping grapes in Brittany.



I fear he may have gone native..



 :Smile:

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## katie23

^lol. Vive le France!  :France: 

I have nice memories of 40% absinthe from France. Just 2 shots of it and I was very *happy* already. Good thing I didn't sample the 70%!  :Smile: 

Hope slaps is okay, and hope to see more pics of the French countryside.

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## somtamslap

It's all good in the hood - back at home where I had the first reasonable night's kip for a week. I also have access to a computer that works and a half-decent net connection, so here's a few pics from the first day.

Things started well enough. I woke up, albeit with a low-level hangover, and made the short walk over to St Pancras international where I would catch the 07.55 train toe Paris Gare du Nord.



The service was both punctual and pacy... and also gave me the chance to brush up on my French. The language barrier, however, would prove to be quite a hindrance - and the little French I no would be flecked with both English and Thai. I was speaking to these people in broken Thai for the most part - they honestly didn't know what the fuck was going on. But credit where it's due, 90 per cent of the French people I spoke with were capable of at least telling me they couldn't speak English - in English.



Two-and-half hours after leaving London, ploughing a furrow through the classic French countryside - flat pastureland dotted with church spires and little hamlets - we arrived in Paris. This where the journey would start getting a little, how can I say - awkward.



Firstly I had to locate my bicycle which had been sent out on an earlier train. Finding 'Dispatch' - or Geo Parts as they call it - was a chore. I was already feeling a little fatigued from the travelling I'd already done, so upon quizzing a few of the station staff about the whereabouts of my 'velo' (ou est my fucking velo?) and receiving blank stares, I decided to take advantage of the country's current state of emergency and queried three burly soldiers brandishing semi automatic assault rifles. They pointed me in roughly the right direction and I eventually found my bike, got on it then started pedalling through Paris - my destination Gare Montparnasse, about five miles south of my present location.

To be honest, a combination of luck and a sheer will to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible was my only compass.







At last...



More in a bit.

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## bsnub

^ Can't see the pics.... :Smile:

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## Neverna

I can see them.

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## ENT

> Originally Posted by somtamslap
> 
> 
> In La Rochelle at present with a gut full of moules et frites and Stella Artois.
> 
> 
> Superb. Much better than grilled pork on a stick with sticky rice and a Leo.


I gave up on that cr*p a while ago after checking out the sources of the meat and rice.

I almost went totally vego, but refrained from the mad impulse and got some good imported whey for protein and scored some organic purple rice, but the hankering for a bit of NZ hill run Merino wether, roast or bbq'd along with a decent home-brewed stout remains.

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## hallelujah

If you think that's trouble, Slap, you should try getting from Gare du Nord to Gare d'Austerlitz in the south east of the city when none of the travelling party is willing to pay a franc for the privilege.

Fucking funny though  :smiley laughing:

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## Dillinger

take your bike test and get another Honda Wave, you nutter :Smile:

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## somtamslap

> Gare d'Austerlitz


 Never heard of it. Sounds horrible. I won't be attempting to get there any time soon.

From Gare Montparnasse I had to catch a train to Bordeaux and then get a connection down to Hendaye on the border. 

Once cosily ensconsed in the carriage, I found the buffet car and hit it - hard. These little saucisson snacks are sensational.



One thing I'd say about the French rail service - the TGV - is that although their trains are rapid, they've not exactly been designed with wants of the inquisitive tourist in mind... Through these windows I can see a grass verge through the bottom section and the sky through the top. The middle bit - aka 'the view' - has been barricaded by a massive chunk of plastic. Poor show, Monsewers. Poor show.



Some 20km outside of Bordeaux, the train stopped. This little delay would go on to alter the dynamic of the entire trip. It transpired that there had been a bomb scare in Bordeaux station, and that we would sit static on the tracks for the next two hours. I missed my connecting train, and due to the time contraints of the journey, I didn't have the luxury of another day's travel. I would have to start in Bordeaux and pedal to the top from here.

Outside Bordeaux train station.



By this time I was fairly heavily pissed, so I went into the shabbiest (and therefore hopefully the cheapest) hotel I could find. 



The room naturally came with all the mod cons; tv, hot shower, five-foot plastic pole...




This hotel was run by a Morroccan person and he and his friends played cards and laughed raucously while I made steady in-roads into a carafe of vin rouge and shovelled home huge spoonfuls of couscous et poulet... it was indeed a delicious repast.



The sun setting over Bordeaux.



And come the morning, nursing a spiteful, guns-blazing hangover, I swiped open the curtains and surveyed the road ahead.

Now the cycling would finally begin.

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## Neverna

Brings back memories of my youth. Ahh.

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## nidhogg

> I made steady in-roads into a carafe of vin rouge





> And come the morning, nursing a spiteful, guns-blazing hangover,


Dafuk?  That little carafe gave a "spiteful, guns-blazing hangover" ?????

Either you are way more of a pussy than you let on, or there was a wee bit more to the story.

For now, pussy has it.

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## bsnub

> That little carafe gave a "spiteful, guns-blazing hangover" ?????


 :rofl:

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## somtamslap

> Dafuk? That little carafe gave a "spiteful, guns-blazing hangover" ?????


 Actually I think the preceding 10 cans of Kronenbourg were the main contributers.

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## klong toey

Mr Slap, I'm not sure if if you are aware of the fact that there are a lot easier way's of doing a pub crawl.

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## somtamslap

> Mr Slap, I'm not sure if if you are aware of the fact that there are a lot easier way's of doing a pub crawl.


  :Very Happy:  Yes, but this way is more fun.

First on the agenda was to put an operation I had dubbed 'get out of Bordeaux as quickly as fucking possible' into play. Fortunately the weather was clement and it was nice to feel the sun on my face after enduring months of murk in the UK. So after a quick slurp of coffee (upon requesting a cup of the sacred bean you are literally served up with a mere slurp in this country) I made my way from the towards the city centre to get my bearings.





It doesn't matter where you go, there's always a trio of pissheads - usually two chaps and a lass - making the town memorial look scruffy.



With surprising ease - given the vast size of the city - I negotiated my way into Bordeaux's suburbs and, very much by luck rather than design, happened upon a cycle path which would take me all the way to the coast in Lacanau.



I raced betwixt pine and swine - this part of the south west is home to hectares and hectares of pine plantations, and I'm sure I caught a glimpse of a wild boar shuffling through the woodland, so - pine and swine it is.



Once in Lancanau, I exhausted my culinary-related vocabulary and ordered lunch...

Mmm mmmmm. C'est tres bon.

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## Neverna

They think of everything, those French chaps. Even if something is cyclable when pissed. Gotta love 'em.  :Smile: 





.

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## somtamslap

After lunch I joined a quiet road which took me to my final destination for the day, the seaside resort of Soulac-sur-Mer. I arrived in fine weather and the place had a low-level buzz to it; early season holiday makers gathered and ate crepes and sipped on colourful drinks. I found the beach and look out on to the Atlantic ocean for a while, it submerged me in a kind of calmness and serenity after the manic three days it had taken me to arrive here.



I found a hotel; there only appeared to be three open - and once in my room took a long hot shower and watched a French game show on TV. I was unable to answer any of the questions so I decided that I should adjourn to the bar and console myself with 17 bottles of beer. 

However, what happened next turned out to be one of the more surreal moments of the trip. Arriving downstairs and walking out into the street, which just an hour ago was bristling with tourists frequenting bars and cafes, I was now greeted by utter - total and utter - silence. Within the course of an hour, Soulac-sur-Mer had turned into a ghost town. Not one cafe, bar or shop was open, and everyone - it seemed - had fled town in a mighty hurry. 

With an eerie ocean breeze whispering through the empty streets an alleys - the soundrack to my perplexity - I walk with a furrowed brow until eventually finding a hidden away restaurant where I would dine on a goats cheese salad which I washed down with a carafe of white wine and three pints of Pelforth blonde.





Day three was officially done and dusted.

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## somtamslap

> They think of everything, those French chaps. Even is something is cyclable when pissed. Gotta love 'em


 They were definitely trying to channel in a subliminal message. And I have to say that it worked. It work exceedingly well.

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## somtamslap

Location at the end of day 3

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## somtamslap

The following morning I woke early and rode five miles or so to catch a ferry at the port of Verdon-sur-Mer. The boat journey over to Royan would only take 20 minutes and once there I could ride north unimpeded by any more unnecessarily wide bodies of water... or so I thought.

En route to the ferry port in the morning mist.



The heroic Monsieur Slap surveys land hitherto unexplored — aka The gratuitous Lycra-clad batty shot.



Once aboard the boat I could finally scoff down some breakfast. French croissants; light, buttery, crispy and extremely fucking messy. I'm still picking pastry out of my hair today.



Docking in Royan...



... home of the famous PLANET EXOTICA - just for Bogie.



After not a little faffing about, I found some quiet byways and really put the adventure bike through its paces,  heading ever north, north, north...



But not without the occasional break at a Bar Tabac, the quintessential French watering hole...

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## somtamslap

The journey north continued. 

Boulevard of broken batties?

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## somtamslap

Right about now - just as I'd activated cruise control; found a nice little zone in which to pedal and become rather pleasantly detached from reality, I happened upon an unsurmountable hurdle...

I'd been blitzing up the country on a selection of what the British would call B roads. My destination for lunch was Rochefort, about 50 clicks south of La Rochelle, and I was making excellent progress - the wind was at my back and psychologically I was feeling pretty chipper for a change.



Then this big bastard loomed large. The only way into Rochefort, it transpired, was via this motorway  - which was possibly a little too high for my tastes.



I frantically tapped a query into Google, it read something a little like this: "I can't be fucked to do this anymore -where's the nearest pub?"  Met with a blank stare, I decided to consult the map which informed me that the nearest crossing which would be more likely not to end in utter carnage was about 15km to the east. I opted to pusue this avenue and began slowly wending my way amid the pan flat pastureland.

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## somtamslap

With revised plans to stop in La Rochelle for the night, I finally, after about 80 miles or so, arrived in the seaside resort at around 6pm. 

La Rochelle was very chic, very urbane, very romantic...



Enter the sweaty foreign fucker on the hunt for beer and chips... which were duly located and savaged.

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## somtamslap

London has its Boris Bikes, virtually every city worth its salt in France has a fleet of bicycles for tourists and locals alike to potter about on. Blighty has a lot to  learn in terms of creating healthy and fresh city environments...



The folliwng day, after a reasonable five or so hours of shut-eye, I swung on my rucksack, which seemed to be gaining a couple of kilos per day - according to the sharp stinging sensation at the top of my back - and saddled up the steed.

This coastal path out of La Rochelle and eventually into Brittany gave the adventure bike a chance to shine. I popped in the headphones and listened to some 80s classics while gunning my way towards Nantes, the sixth largest city in France.

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## yortyiam

France does look very appealing, I'll give it that.  Nice selection of pics Somtam, fang yer muchly!

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## somtamslap

Monsewer Slap stood breathing in meditative breaths of fresh sea air while ruminating life's imponderables. "The Atlantic Ocean," concluded M. Slap, "Is really fucking massive."



Some eight hours and 100 miles up the road I eventually breached the Nantes city boundaries. 



It was rush hour on a Thursday night and the roads into the city were chock full of impatient motorists hissing expletives (Zut Alor etc etc) at one another. I slinked through the mayhem and found myself  - as usual - a shitty little hotel, and after a quick bath during which I found it remarkably pleasant to submerge my beaten thighs in scalding hot water, I went into  town with the expressed intention of eating and drinking my own body weight in regional produce.

The city itself was remarkably clean and boasted an lots of impressive intricately crafted buildings...some of which sold beer.

Let me tell you something. This Duchesse Anne gear will ping your nuts clean off.



A few city street scenes in Nantes





La grand place



And then I found it. A venue which would alter the course of the entire trip. The Irish were present, and, as custom would have it, they were instigating carnage. And today, M. Slap was at the epicentre of it...



Sorry, this is a slow burner. Lots of naked ladies coming up.

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## Neverna

> Sorry, this is a slow burner. Lots of naked ladies coming up.


From the establishment on the left? 

(A Thai themed massage parlour perhaps?)

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## somtamslap

> From the establishment on the left?


 Good spot! I'm not saying anything yet, but rest assured that these girls are really, really, reallllly naked. In fact, they're probably more naked than any girls have ever been in the whole wide world...ever!

Oh, and while I'm here - here's a picture of an egg.

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## Dillinger

great thread Slapper.

wheres your next adventure planned for?

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## klong toey

Did the egg get sucked up the straw or did you use your fingers to eat.

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## Neverna

And what is a Thai fried egg doing in a thread abouut France!?!  (Unless it came out of that "darling" establishment!)

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## somtamslap

> wheres your next adventure planned for?


 One more in Europe then, bollocks to this, back to Thailand.






> Did the egg get sucked up the straw or did you use your fingers to eat.


 I popped it atop a plate of spicy flesh and wolfed the fucker down.






> (Unless it came out of that "darling" establishment!)


 Yes. Yes! That's what happened. We'll go with that.

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## jizzybloke

Chop chop with the fucking story slap!

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## Chittychangchang

In Thailand fried egg goes on *everything*...

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## somtamslap

> In Thailand fried egg goes on everything...


Apart from somtam - then you get kai kem instead.






> Chop chop with the fucking story slap!


 Jizz, I'm just giving photobucket the patience and respect it clearly demands. What a horrible fucking website.

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## bsnub

You should use imgur.com instead. PB is a dated piece of trash.

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## somtamslap

The following day, with a re-enactment of the battle of agincourt raging deep within my brain — the previous evening's frivolities had been, how can we say, fucking rampant — I drew back the curtain, while simultaneously dry gagging on 20 pints of imported Guinness, and revealed a quite wonderful sight. 

A gare. A massive fucking gare.



I love gares.

A gare - to the throngs of less linguistically gifted out there - is a train station.

I made haste down to the breakfast table where I gagged my way through yet another continental offering which as usual comprised of a croissant, a length of French stick and some fucking jambon. Not really a breakfast in my book - but, when in Rome, or Nantes in this case.

Packing my bags and saddling up the steed, I pushed it to the train station and bought a ticket to 'somewhere in Brittany' then I slung the bike on the train, popped a Valium, drank a Kronenbourg and settled in for a few hours of blissful rail travel...



I regaled tales of my journey up from Bordeaux to a Frenchman who listened with breathless enthusiasm as I retraced my tyre tracks...

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## klong toey

The recital turned another listeners hair a very strange colour.  :Smile:

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