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They invited me to their 'gathering’ in the morning in which they all got together in the hall, sang songs and praised the lord together.

With some much needed rest in Nantes and having now seen a giant mechanical walking elephant, I set off two days later, and made my way south in the direction of St John-de-Monts. I first however wanted to see the island of Noirmoutier just off the coast as my friend Anais had advised me to visit it. It was now Friday morning and she wouldn’t be back from work until almost eleven pm and so it made more sense to make a small detour here before returning south again and headin

What with the difficulty and sheer frustration in reaching Paris a few days ago, I was determined not to make the same mistakes on my departure. Rose had told me about a route that led 15 km’s into the leafy suburbs in the south called La coulee verte (the green route) and with my own research having come up with the same route, I decided this was the way to go. It was mostly well signposted until around 8 km’s where a diversion had been erected and having made my way around,

It felt good to be in a city again, a little crowded and hurried perhaps and completely different from the countryside, but that’s what gives a city its vibe or at least part of it. I still had to find my hotel that Rose had booked for me and this also turned out to be a rather difficult affair. All told, it took me another hour of searching the streets around the district where it was located; my hand drawn map being, once again hopelessly inadequate. Maybe I should really s

From Tournai, I continued south west across the border to Rumes. A gentleman waited on the path for me to pass, and even though I was listening to music, I think he said bonjour. My reply was an instant”merci bien”. I still don’t know why I said thank you to him. It was simply the first thing that came into my head. To this day I still wonder what he was thinking after I told him thank you. About half way to Aras, I saw a sign for a turn off that led to a first world war memo

After two weeks in Amsterdam and with far too much money spent, I felt it was time to leave and I left my friends boat with a stonking hangover and no water left with which to hydrate myself. I felt terrible. Having forced myself to mount everything on my bike before leaving a note and the key to the boat inside, I made my way south through the city towards my friends whom live near Utrecht. It's a route I’ve taken a few times before so I won’t bore you with the details. Need