Why do this?

It wasn't raining when we set off this morning, but it looked like it would do we decided to don our waterproof trousers. Where was this "heat wave" they were predicting last week for middle France?

We rode easily for an hour before stopping for breakfast in a little bar. 

I'm not sure if it's tiredness or perhaps the drizzle but I sensed that the chaps were getting a bit miffed that my engine troubles had delayed us a bit. I wondered if the usual banter and ribbing was becoming a little more direct.

I think the pressure was on when I was paying for coffee and they were helmeting up and firing engines. I dashed out to get going quickly and promptly forgot to put my glasses back on after my helmet (I'd left them on my luggage rack). It wasn't for a couple of hundred yards before I realised. The guys were racing ahead but I decided to turn round and go pick them up from the road side.  Lorne noticed but Scott, leading, can't see anything in his rear view mirrors unless he lifts his arm out of the way - so all in all it turned into another confusing frustrating 15 minute delay.

And this all got me thinking.  I wonder if we all had slightly different requirements from this trip? I sensed that the chaps were keen to press on, worried about falling behind schedule - they wanted to GET somewhere. Where as I wanted to travel. I don't care where we GET or when - I like the journey and the adventure. A friend of mine recently walked the Camino de Santiago - now you don't do that sort of thing to GET to San Sebastien, you do it for the journey in itself. 

There's a lot of time alone inside your helmet to think while you ride a motorcycle so I may be over thinking this thing about our different needs - we all certainly agree with broad smiles that some of the little windy roads we've travelled along are what this trip is all about!  If the thickness of pine needles and spread of cow shit laying on some of these roads is anything to go by, I'd say they are pretty remote roads!

Scott even made a special detour for us to the 14th century village of Blassac just he thought it sounded like "Ball-Sack". Now that's the spirit of travel I like :-)

Tim :-)

Tim Morley