Unless the mounting bracketry hasn’t been fixed properly
She told me that the GPS mount (bracket) itself had broken. She seemed happy enough with the lashed together sling.
Unless the mounting bracketry hasn’t been fixed properly
Couldn't you just pass on her contact details so that Ev can put her right and tell her what she needs to do?She told me that the GPS mount (bracket) itself had broken. She seemed happy enough with the lashed together sling.
Might I ask which St. Pol please?Day two…..
The answer to the great mystery of the strange strap, taped to the lady’s screen, can now be revealed. By chance she was loading up her bike, when I was leaving, so I took the opportunity to engage her in bikermate banter. It is, to be fair, a bodge of quite remarkable genius. The mount for her sat nav had broken, the strap is there to support the mount and GPS device in place.
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Now that I’d answered on of life’s great mysteries, I could set off to ride the 280 mile cross-country (non-motorway) route to the border with Germany.
Leaving St Omer at 07:45, I trundled my way to St Pol for breakfast ,

This oneMight I ask which St. Pol please?
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Beat me to it.
By a split second.Beat me to it.By a split second.
slow coach

At least I’ve linked mine properlyslow coach
Faffing again
We will see you there BillThank you all, I shall add them to my sat. nav., they will be useful when I take my shitty GSA with it's shitty screen and shitty sat. nav. mount to France.![]()


Somewhere along the way, I crossed from France into Belgium, though cannot remember seeing the border signs. The only clue I got was when I noticed that the town and road signs had changed.







There's nothing like remembering way points for your journey you miss so much just following the blue dot;; even you would'nt be able to mince around in a cafe for an hour and a half; so the bike was sorted;; horse racing and lotto in the frog boozer; no footy then;;Day two…..
The answer to the great mystery of the strange strap, taped to the lady’s screen, can now be revealed. By chance she was loading up her bike, when I was leaving, so I took the opportunity to engage her in bikermate banter. It is, to be fair, a bodge of quite remarkable genius. The mount for her sat nav had broken, the strap is there to support the mount and GPS device in place.
View attachment 335519
Now that I’d answered on of life’s great mysteries, I could set off to ride the 280 mile cross-country (non-motorway) route to the border with Germany.
Leaving St Omer at 07:45, I trundled my way to St Pol for breakfast , to a cafe and excellent bakery I know, with very good parking just across the road:
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The bakery was quite busy, not least as buying bread is a national sport in France:
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My breakfast croissant (and my lunch) bought, I could sit and enjoy my coffee in the cafe next door:
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Then it it was off again, along the D roads of France, skirting Arras and Cambrai, to stop about an hour and a half later at another cafe I know, for an Orangina.
The cafe is on the main drag through the small town of Inchy. It’s a useful place know as it’s a good place to stop after rolling off the Chunnel if you then take the motorway to Cambrai:
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It’s as French as you like, with (naturally enough) the horse racing and Lotto being run:
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The owner is a nice chap, who now half recognises me, not least as I have stopped there quite regularly and always try to engage with him in Franglais.
As 280 miles across France and Belgium on D roads is a decent schlep, I didn’t stop too often en-route to take pictures. But, as I have ridden the roads quite a few times, I mark my progress in my mind with things that I recognise or half-remember. A good example is the large church of St Peter at Soire le Chateau. It appears like some sort of strange thing from science fiction, as you ride into the town on the dead straight road:
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Somewhere along the way, I crossed from France into Belgium, though cannot remember seeing the border signs. The only clue I got was when I noticed that the town and road signs had changed.
To be continued as it’s time for breakfast… and it’s raining! Hoorah!

That looks bloody good to me never mind just passable;; if you stop in la Roache there's a B&B over the town morgue; it's a quiet night or it was the lat time we used it;Day two…. Continued…..
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How great to live in independent countries, each proud of their nationhood, divided only by lines on a map, the style of postage stamps and vehicle registration plates.
By now the temperature was well into the mid-20’s and I wishing it would rain, justifying my wearing my Gore-Tex suit. Though the clouds did build up, no rain fell (much to my disappointment) as I trundled along the back roads of Belgium, often taking what are little more than farm roads, a car and a half wide and made of concrete:
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My late lunch, I took in Onhaye-Falaen, which is popular with walkers, using the very well signposted footpaths and walking-trails into the hills of the Ardennes. It’s a popular stop for Belgian bikermates, too:
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Doc, would be proud of me:
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Lunch disposed of it was on to la Roche en Ardenne and St Vith, before crossing the river Our, which marks the border with Germany:
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Though small (as continental rivers go) the valley it has carved over the millennia is pretty deep, the motorway carried well above it on a not insignificant viaduct, one of a series as the river meanders along:
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Then it was just a fuel stop (always fill up if possible, ready for tomorrow) and a short hop to the hotel…. And still it didn’t rain!
PS Supper was a passable veal schnitzel, with mushroom sauce, chips and salad:
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