The sun will come out tomorrow

I wish I had bet my bottom dollar, because after the misty morning it did.  the clouds cleared, the sun shone and the riding was centerfold quality.  The area down to Agen wasn’t mountainous- it was filled with sudden valleys that sent you hurtling down twisting roads before spitting you back onto the plain- wondering if the next dip would plunge you back down to the river below.  Here history no longer asks for attention, it demands it.  Try riding a sweeping downhill that begs you to cut-in tight when you have this framed over your windscreen…

I’m using an old Canon SD800IS for all my shots, so the views are sometimes too big for my lense, but even so, I hope you can imagine what it would feel like riding through these views…

A pox on all your houses

Be they cloud, mist, fog, haze, or drizzle!

Riding from Lyon to Agen in France was, or should have been, fantastic.  The Dordogne area is nothing but wonderful winding roads, castles, and majestic outlooks.  Or so I hear.  My ride was completely socked in, with nothing but a cavalcade of ‘scenic outlook’ signs to indicate that I was anywhere other than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s London.  That being said, the riding was still fun and my first night stop was a wonderful apology. 

Having had a damp ride, a hotel was certainly in order, but a sign to a campsite grabbed me and off I went.  Off I went right past the closed campsite (which I never saw) and down some small country roads that I just couldn’t leave.  Smelling the wood smoke from houses as they rose from the mists before diving back into the forest became hypnotic- the road and riding lost, the passage through the forest and mists taking over…

Yes!  Finally, another campsite!  That whole ‘passage and mist’ stuff is great, but it’s amazing how quickly you dump it when the chance of rest arrives.  And in this case, well, Mona Lisa just has a smile.  When I checked in the owner gave me dinner hours (!), directions to the other riders (!!), and asked what fresh bread I would like in the morning since they baked their own (!!!).  Taking his advice I headed over to the other riders and did the dog sniff around each other’s bikes.  They didn’t have great english/french, but they had the same great rider spirit I’ve encountered throughout my travels.

Despite one of the guys having a bunch of spokes broken and trying to work out a repair, they were a fun group to hang out with around the fire while we waited for our steak dinners and drank our Leffe (yes, the campsite served steak dinners and had Leffe on tap).  In the morning the guys invited me over for omelets made from fresh picked mushrooms, local eggs, and the campsite’s fresh bread.  The perfect start to a misty day.

Now old Mr. Johnson had some troubles of his own,

He had a GSA that just wouldn’t leave his home,
He tried and he tried to ride the GSA away,
He gave it to a man riding far far away.
But the GSA road back the very next day,
The GSA road back, we thought it was a goner,
The GSA road back, it just wouldn’t stay away.

So, if the mangling of a childhood song (and great Canadian video adaptation) didn’t give it away- I’m back!

I’ve got a couple of posts in the wings, and then starting tomorrow I should be back to being behind on my posts in no time.