Well, we were sort of off. The torrential rain in the morning wasn’t an encouraging start to our trip but by the time we actually hit the road it had cleared up.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t take as much gear with me this time. As I hefted my chokka full bag onto the back of my bike, forced closed my full top box and wiggled the jam packed tank bag into place, I wish I had remembered that promise. Dick.
We only had a short ride down to Folkestone then a few hours on the other side to a place called Amien for our first day. I remembered riding being exhilirating, and it definitely was that and more. The “more” bit was remembering how squashed one’s balls get, how sore one’s arse gets and how tiring it can all be. But we made it fine and were greeted by the friendly face of Anna our first Couchsurfing host. She set the standards pretty high as she plied us with beer and put on a BBQ. We hung out with her, her boyfriend and housemates for the night, with our incredibly poor ability to speak French not being much of a hinderance. Tris tries to speak the local lingo better than I do and has been a inspiration.
The highlight of day one was Tris learning how to remove a bottle cap from beer bottle using a lighter. I’m glad I was there to witness him finally becoming a real man.