European tour 2014 Day 1

 

 

Day 1

Well yesterday was in no uncertain terms a disaster. After a surprisingly restful night I had decided that I wouldn’t be waiting for the bike to be repaired. Despite the recovery man saying he’d get the bike to the specialist first thing Monday morning, I had very little confidence of this happening, as the recovery company made it quite clear that motorbike shops didn’t open in France on a Monday. That meant that the bike would get to the repairs three days into our trip, it probably wouldn’t get looked at until the fourth day, then if they had the parts be fixed on the fifth but more likely the sixth day. That was almost half of our holiday, I couldn’t or wasn’t willing to waste the time, I took the recovery person’s advice and carried on with our tour.

Today was always going to be a long day. 240 estimated miles to travel, with 3 World War 1 grave cemeteries to visit to pay my respects then a long drive, (note drive not ride) to Chalons du Champagne.

 

The day started well, slightly overcast but mild. The hotel we were staying at laid on a nice buffet breakfast, which for me started with a small bowl of very sweet granola/muesli type cereal then a nice omelette with bacon.  The bacon wasn’t big like at home but was very tasty, and a glass or two of apple juice to rinse it all down with. We celebrated Ian’s (my brother) 50^th Birthday with cards and presents. We looked out through pine trees and over a lake whilst dining, and an early morning fisherman was just packing up and moving on.

 

Cars packed, bills paid and the bike ready for the off we made our way from France into Belgium.  The roads were quiet and empty. Our first stop of the day was the ever needed petrol station, the first of which decided to decline all of our cards. The next petrol station was more friendly and we all managed to fill up and finally we were under way. We weaved our way through the French countryside and into Belgium.  Some of the villages had cobbled street which set vibrations up and down my spine but it was lovely to see. As we made our way through the countryside and villages we followed some old military vehicles, it was quite poignant and it was nice to follow.  I expect that certain groups where getting ready to celebrate the 100^th anniversary of the end of the First World War and also the D-Day landings. I hadn’t arranged to go there for the celebrations it just worked out that way.

 We soon came to our first war grave cemetery of the day. I couldn’t believe how well kept it was, and I suddenly and unexpectedly became grief stricken. I haven’t ever felt anything like it before.  I had always wanted to pay my respects to those who had given their lives so we could be free today but didn’t realise what an impact it would have on me. To say it was moving would be an understatement.

We continued our journey through the Belgium countryside and although unplanned passed one after another after another of graves sites.  The enormity of the loss of life had started to dawn on me. After a short drive through the Belgium countryside we stopped at a small war cemetery and again I felt the feeling of grief. It doesn’t matter if the memorial had one or one thousand graves, no one could have given more.

 

 

 

The last war cemetery of the day had a special purpose. I had looked up on the CWWGC and found I Bithell (my surname) buried at Tyne Cot. I had all the info I needed to find him. We drove through the narrow lanes, but the site was huge and could be seen from miles away. I couldn’t believe the enormity of it and the thousands of graves, what made me especially sad was the amount of unknown soldiers, it was deeply moving.

 

 

We now had to get a move on as I had spent more time than expected, but not as much as our fallen heroes deserved, looking at our history. So we left Ypres and headed toward Mons trying to make up time. We left Belgium and headed back into France via the Parc de National. The roads now were straight and fast. With glorious views over vast amounts of country side, but the thought of this morning never left as many of the fields we drove through were stained red with poppies.

We had left the flatness of Belgium behind and we were soon in the sweeping and rolling countryside of France. Large wind turbines dotted the sky line, but the sky was kind and although we had a good amount of sun the cloud was there to take the edge of the heat. I had picked a very good route and was sad at times that my bike was left behind, but I would give a running commentary to my wife, of how I would have ridden that particular part of the road.

 

The day now seemed long and I just wanted to get to the hotel. Everyone was tired from yesterday’s exploits; we had been on the road since about 9am and finally arrived at our hotel at 7pm a long day but a good day. The hotel from the outside looked like any other main road hotel, but the rooms although a little cosy, were nicely turned out.

Once booked in we took a short walk to a local restaurant, where a grumpy waitress, that didn’t want to serve English people, reluctantly showed us to our seats. I think it was due to the fact that the restaurant didn’t have a big enough float, and they were raiding the tips jar to try and find enough change to give to a customer. We had a nice 50^th birthday dinner and headed back to our rooms. All ready for a good night’s sleep.