beercyclers.com

Hello folks, Sorry about the lack of updates but it just became too much of a chore having to look for a net connection when we had serious lazing around to do. I have continued writing the journal which will be dumped on the net at some point when I can face the tedious task of typing it all up.

By way of a quick update we spent a week in a lovely hotel in Bilbao with Ange and Kerry’s Mum Sonia who flew out to be with us for a while, we had a great time visiting the Gugenheim museum and enjoying the sights and sounds of the yearly fiesta ‘Asta Negusia’ which had the streets heaving. We ventured into the wonderful Picos de Europa mountains in Asturias, and I developed a completely unprecedented taste for their famed  ’sidra’ or cider.

We’ve continued Slowly West along the coast and are now in Viveiro near the North Western tip of Spain, soon to head South toward Portugal, probably dropping into Santiago de Compostela since we’ve seen many pilgrims trudging that way as we’ve repeatedly found ourselves on the coastal ‘Camino de Santiago’ along our way.

Thanks for your attention and apologies again if you were enjoying the witterings of our blog, there will be more to see presently!

Kez particularly liked the Brúlon site because the shower block had music piped into it via a crackly speaker. She’d had fun singing along with it in the shower the night before. It also had the great advantage of masking any embarassing toilet noises. I particularly disliked the site because of the number of English caravanners. So, although a bit weary, we set off for a short ride to the town of Sablé-sur-Sarthe. Our customary morning off n’push hill woke our calves up and we ate a couple of cheeky cakes at the roadside, having missed breakfast. Bread vans seem to be getting scarce as we continue South.
Stopping for a breather at one point Kez noticed a pair of largish brown striped snakes curled up on the sun splashed verge, possibly adders or vipers? (aren’t they the same thing anyway?) We’ve seen an ‘Attention! Vipres’ sign before. As we watched, one slithered away up the bank with alarming speed. A girl in a small car waved and shouted ‘bon route!’ as we picked the bikes up to move on.
The camp was an excellent one, probably the finest shower block yet. As we set up next to the river I noticed what looked like a large plastic comedy bird on one of the trees on the opposite bank. I squinted at it for a while but couldn’t work out what it was supposed to be. I grabbed the binoculars for a better look. It was a huge heron standing stock still with his neck stretched straight up, presumably trying to look like a tree to passing fish. We watched him for a while until he inelegantly leapt off his branch, which dipped alarmingly towards the water under his weight, and heave himself into the air and down the river to a new perch on a mooring post.
A walk into the town offered impressive views across the water to a huge church and a delightfully cheap and well stocked supermarché, which is as exciting to hungry cycle-tramps as any ornately arched historic spire topped edifice.
For dinner tonight, half price for quick sale boef hachés (beef burgers) in buns with salad and weird processed cheese. Kez wouldn’t let us try the ‘cheval hachés’.

We were all set to cover some decent mileage today, but after ten miles of pleasant easy cycling the heavens suddenly opened and within minutes the road was looking more like a river and thunder was crashing angrily all around us. Thankfully we were watching all this from behind the net curtains of a strange little café/newsagent which we’d ducked into. Kez was a bit perturbed by the surly owner and his immense doberman which barked frighteningly at passers by and other customers, but the rain was coming down harder than ever. The dog turned out to be a pussycat in disguise as he came out from behind the bar and nuzzled Kez’s elbow on the offchance of a scrap, then forced himself clumsily under my leg to smell something under the table.
Two double espressos and a sneaky beer later the rain finally stopped and we carried on with blue sky ahead and heavy broiling blackness behind.

Sadly this didn’t last though, and with grey sky returning and rain again starting to patter off our foreheads we decided to cut our losses and head for the municipal camp site at Le Tréport. This turned out to be a good move, the cheapest site we’ve encountered so far at €9, but fantastic facilities and only a short walk away from the town and it’s impressive harbour, fantastic fresh fish market and more fish restaurants! We’re going to stay here another night, get some chores done and spend tomorrow doing a bit of people watching from the numerous pavement cafés.

Well, nearly. After stringing out preparations for our homelessness for a month, we’re finally ready to leave. The contents of the flat is in a skip outside, our few valuables are stashed in Ange’s loft and our ferry is booked for 10.45am tomorrow, so we need to be up and out early enough to make it to Dover by 10 o’clock in the morning.

We’re still ho;pelessly unprepared for France. Can barely speak a word, have no idea where we’re going and are shit scared of cycling on the wrong side of the road. Ah well, planning was never my strong point.