New Boots and pants to Los Pistoneros, pour favour.

:clap:clap:clap:clap:clap

Great write up Neil, splendid pics as ever... apart from the leathery old helmet, (?) did you get any shots of Montesas...
or were they really outnumbered by Bultacos...?
No Impalas crackling past then..???


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Woke up early on sunday morning clear headed and watched the japanese grand prix in bed with a cup of tea.

Then went into town and had a ride along the front.

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Met a new mate. He couldn't say a word in english, on a par with my spanish but still took me 20 minutes to get away from him . I think he was trying to explain why he'd done a bunk from church this morning and would i back him if his missus caught him by saying we were related, and would i like a kipper from his bag..

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I spyed a small private secluded beach and thought i'd have a closer look, for photographing wildlife purposes and playing my trumpet.
After finding the gate locked purely by chance i discovered a hole in the perimeter fence, and after clambering through 500 yards of thick gorse and bramble ( obviously to keep the spanish perverts out) i stumbled onto the beach.
I kept in a low crouch, so as not to attract attention and scare the wildlife.
Look, a sign. No nudismo !. And no trumpets. That's my day ruined.

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Oh well best make my way back and see what's going on at the rally.

Passed some architectural oddities on the way.
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Someone had done graffiti on the side of an office block from the roof of a house - and the house has since been demolished. :D

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The area has a nice coastline and beaches.

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It was show time back at the rally, lots of bikes parked up while they all had lunch supplied by the rally organisers.

Not so many primary colours as the previous day, maybe because they were mostly english bikes on display.

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Cool as feck. :cool:

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Another good day. I was back on the road tomorrow (monday), heading towards Santiago.

Found a top restaurant and had another 5 course meal, the starter was courgette, scrambled egg, iberian ham and homemade tomatoe sauce, doesn't sound much but it was astounding - main was Hake with prepubescent penises, and a bottle of wine.

I've had Hake plenty of times before, but this was the one. Put on this earth to swim and end up on my plate.

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Is it done to lick the plate in a spanish restaurant.

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And the pudding ....

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And the wine was good. So good i ended up speaking to the germans on the next table for half an hour. I slept very well.

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Left the lap of luxury monday morning, heading west along the coast road to ribadeo and onto santiago.
Nice roads but much the same as any coast roads the world over - views of the sea one side of the road, houses, woods or fields on the other.

Once past ribadeo the coast turned more wild.

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And a very noisey sea, which i enjoyed sitting relaxing watching and listening to for quite a while.

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At one alcove i noticed a movement and thought it was a spot of nudismo bathing going on - no such luck, just a couple of seals. They'd better not hang around too long on they'll be on the menu at a local restaurant.

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Looping around the coast from Foz to Ferrol i recognised an area where i stayed back in 1980 while riding around the coast road of spain and portugal, two up with my girlfriend on an R65 with £200 each in our pockets, no credit cards, no cares and no plans.

These two pictures are in almost the same place, 31 years apart. The small family run hotel and bar have gone, but the ghosts of happy memories are still there. I stood for a long while absorbing the past.

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Decided i'd get a move on and get to santiago late afternoon.

No tapas today. But i did stop for a good meal consisting of all the basic ingredients needed for a healthy diet.

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Took the small quite roads to santiago and arrived at 5.30pm. Booked into the Santiago Grand. It wasn't.

No decent restaurants near the hotel. As it was in the student quarter it was just burger bars etc. Ended up in the hotel restaurant having a buffet. Pictures would do the food justice, and it didn't deserve any.

Up early as the sun rose because there were some interesting buildings next to the hotel.

These are student digs. Not a scrap of litter or grafitti anywhere, which is in sharp contrast to the student digs near my home.

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Had a mooch around the old town on foot which made me feel at one with the pilgrims . And that was santiago done.
 
Up and away from Santiago, on the road heading east - Today i'm going to ride small roads and use the GPS as a guide to where i am and not as a route robot.

It was a warm start to the day, so i'd decided to stop and get some provisions at the next likely looking town.

My ipod was playing the "Good bad and the ugly" as i arrived on the edge of town. I paused and looked, and really did feel like the man with no name.


I'd reached the fabled town of Fisteous. The town that's responsible for introducing the term "Rictus Grin" to the world.

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I stopped in a small busy store (I noticed i was the only person wearing a watch ?) and restocked some provisions.
You can only imagine my unbridled joy and delight at finding a lightweight alloy technical hand whisk.
I also picked up some of the more mundane items that travellers always need, a vacuum packed genuine spanish potato omelette and a smoke alarm, to be stored in the R/H laughing box alongside the other essentials.

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Time to get my arse out of town and back on the road. .


The day was very warm with some enjoyable riding, the miles and time flew by on my way to Gijon.
The motorway on stilts was impressive

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But not as impressive as the jumbo croissant, and which i had to stab to death with my fork before i could eat.

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A bridge. Over a river. With a bike obscuring the view. Incredible. Would love to know the full story.

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Before i knew it i'd arrived at Gijon.

That's my bike in lane 2, with the boat i was catching in the background.

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Fours later i was onboard ( did i mention that bikes are always last on ). The boat was full and some lorries didn't get aboard.
Lots of police were called to calm down the very excitable and loud latin types driving the perishable goods lorries still on the dock.
From up on deck it looked like the waving about of some rolled up newspaper by the police had the desired effect on calming the situation.

Went to check into my cabin and wqas told they'd run out of 2 berths, so i could have a 4 berth, see, there is some benefits to being last on.

This cabin was at the very front of the boat with a nice view out of the window (note the use of seafaring terms).

This was taken in the morning as it's dark when you leave Gijon
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St Naziare ahead.
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I had plenty of time to get back to the Uk so once off the ferry i decided to ride to calais using the smallest roads without using any maps or GPS. Pretty easy. Just keep the sea on your left.

Haven't a clue where this is.
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All uneventful, apart from the amount of mud on some of the very small french roads left by militant english hating french farmers.

Only other problem was fuel related. Thirtythree years ago the the italians didn't deem it necessary to fit trip meters to the california. This hadn't been a problem when the GPS was turned on as i used the trip on the GPS unit. Now i was using guestimates.
Not crucial as there is a reserve tap. But as you know petrol stations in the rural parts of france are few and far between, especially in the evenings.
It was 7.30pm and drizzling and for the last hour i'd been saying to myself "next hotel and i'll stop for the night". And they'd been nothing.
So i diverted onto larger roads in the hope of coming across something. I did at 8.15pm, and on reserve.
I'd come into the town of Forges-les-aux. On my left a dimly lit pink hotel, on my right a large casino/hotel/spa/golf course ( or "twat farm" as whatton calls them).

I chose using my wallet ( how i managed that i don't know, as i don't carry a wallet).
Anyway here's a picture. Looks OK in the light of day. But if i say not one bulb was higher than 40 watts you'll get the idea what it was like at night.
Don't be lulled into a false sense of security by the picture, if you're ever passing, just carry on. Oh, and the hotel doesn't do evening meals.

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Ate at a primary coloured (decor was yellow and red) pizza come restaurant 5 minutes along the road.
And confirms my theory on restaurants in europe. If they decorate their shop front in any primary colour avoid it. You have been warned.

This is was across the road from the hotel.
The usual french WW2 tourism in locations with nothing much else going for them. The remains of a building after a typical german attrocity.

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Anyway, while cooped up in the pink palace i thought of a challenge for you.

Guess the song from the pictures........

The pictures are representitive of a verse in the song.
"Say what you see" (as the great philosopher Roy Walker used to say) and it's obvious.

The first person to get it right will win a prize that money can't buy- A snickers bar thats travelled 2400 miles in my aerostich pocket and has melted and hardened several times during it's journey.

This isn't easy, as i'm not giving this prize away without any effort involved.


Here we go.

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Post your answers and i'll announce the winner.

..

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Up and away the next morning. A mile down the road in the main town were a nice selection of hotels and restaurants. Ho hum.

I stopped for a coffee and raisan pain in the first petrol station i saw. And looking at the pictures from the previous stop on the way down it looks identical. But it isn't/wasn't, as you can tell by the change on the counter.It was 50 cents cheaper.

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But this garage had a surprise in store, a commotion by the sell by date sandwiches attracted my attention. People were paying homage to something on their way in and out of the shop -
The sheer beauty took my breath away - You will not see a finer selection of pompier figurines anywhere on the planet.
And knocks into a cocked hat the typical uk service stations shortbread selections.. It brought a tear to my eye looking at all those excellent representaions of helpless children being saved from perilous situations.
If only i had room in my laughing boxes.

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Still riding without maps or GPS i bumped into the sea at le croy, just north of abbeville, and decided to stay hugging the coast where possible all the way to calais.
A strange area that section of coast up to Le Touquet at this time of year. Whole holiday towns/villages that just shut up shop until next spring. And not a person to be seen.

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You can drive along the prom.

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Up to the beach, and even onto it if you had the right bike.

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Headed off to le Touquet as it was British week

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Not a red bus or phone box to be seen.
So instead have a picture of a british registered italian bike on the front in the cycle lane at le Touquet.

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Now, no ukgser ride report that involves riding through northern france can go by without a reference to any of the world wars, it's compulsory.
So here's a cemetery.

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And i found Private Ryan.

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Well, that's it. 2400 miles on a 33 year old moto guzzi that only had an oil change as mechanical preparation. The boots didn't leak and the pants stayed clean.

And thanks to borderraider couple of pictures from the thursday night earlier in the report.

The bar with the old BMW's inside.
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And feck knows where but enjoying myself.
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The words from a song that sums up the ride and the friends -

And it's one for the road, yes it is
One for the cat's eyes, yes and
One for the white line
That's taking me back home
Well now, I've had my way
All them that took me there and back
All them that left me way off the track
I've had my dreams.


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:clap :clap :clap :clap
superb............................ :thumb
 
A bridge. Over a river. With a bike obscuring the view. Incredible. Would love to know the full story.
It's probably broken-down, it is Italian after-all. :nenau

:D
 


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