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.

Sept19 001

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.

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