24 Hour Le Mans

Heading north up the left hand side of France is not really filled with thrills and spills. My penultimate resting point is just outside Alencon just up the road from Le Mans.

I spilt the route between motorway and smaller road and whilst it was pleasant there are really no highlights beyond almost peeing myself because I waited too long to stop.

Finding this place was also a challenge – fortunately I had tried to put the address into my sat nav that morning for just such an emergency but the address could not be found – I ended up finding it on google maps and using the northings and eastings as coordinates. I knew I was close but I ended up at the mouth of a narrow track near some houses and not wanting to get stuck in anything tricky on my two wheels I stopped and got off to check my bearings. Two yokels who hadn’t seen motorised vehicles before came gawping and I asked them about the place I was looking for.

Whilst they both agreed that they know where they currently resided neither recognised the B&B. Then, in a flash of inspiration one of them murmured and gesticulated up that very track. Both became excited and I took from this that it would be a good idea to get away from them and try the track.

Sure enough, as I rounded the bend the whole family were stood outside waving at me. Again – not a word of Ingerlish between them: I don’t know what they’re playing at.

I think I had more French than they had English but we still communicated astoundingly well. God really did a rubbish job when he destroyed the Tower of Babel: waste of time if you ask me. The B&B was – yet again – beautiful, a converted stable or something and the chap asked me in a combined mime and speak action whether I was here for the racing> I guessed he meant Le Mans and I discovered that this coming weekend was the Le Mons motorcycle racing! He beckoned me into a second shed and sitting in there was a 600cc bike that he was racing there!

 

 

 

 

 

We agreed a breakfast time and with an excellent WIFI I could not only do a little blogging but I could look at the journey for tomorrow: the last tour day before heading for Calais.

Then I spot, just above Caen (look at the bleeding map) that there’s Normandy: the D-Day landing beaches, Utah, Omaha, Oklahoma – no that last one is a musical. It’s a fairly massive detour but what the heck – I’m here to ride! You will now remember the prior warning I sent.

Brekkie was a tasty affair but snaffling anything but jam was simply not feasible. The whole family came out again to see me off.