Gnasher328
Senior Member
- Joined
- Aug 9, 2012
- Location
- Chiang Mai / New Forest, England
- Bikes
- Ducati 851 & Mille S2, HD FXR, Trumpet R3, BMW R100RS, CRF 250
A friend in one of the local ‘clubs’ organises a long weekend to France every year to coincide with the longest day and countrywide music festival. This year Fougeres was the town chosen for the honour. For the past few years the weather has been rotten but we live in hope (and Europe). Not many pics of the actual riding and not a clue where we were half the time ‘cos mostly we were following our resident homing pigeon John with his photographic memory or it was just too wet and grey to bother but the festival was fun.
Stupid O’clock Thursday morning saw us waiting in the rain (this was to be the recurring theme of the trip for yet another year) at Poole ferry terminal.
This year the music festival coincided with the Le Mans 24 hrs, so we were lucky to get places on the ferry in competition with the exotic car crowd.
Looking out to sea it was even gloomier and the usual scenic cruise through the harbour and past Sandbanks (allegedly some of the most expensive ‘real estate’ in the world) was non existent.
We kept our fingers crossed and eventually as we neared France it started to clear.
Coming from a small island this bit is always exciting - a whole continent ahead - although this time we were just popping down the road.
After a surprisingly dry ride of around 120m steering clear of main roads and large towns where possible we arrived at the hotel and I found myself on the 3rd floor of the ‘Hotel Balzac’ with just enough room to swing a very small cat. But 50 Euros/night isn’t bad for France and at least they had a lift.
All showered etc we headed out for the obligatory beers and nosh up. Paul, the organiser has over the years converted us to ‘Leffe’, a strong blonde (definitely not lager) beer with a taste of its own originally brewed by Belgian monks in 1240. This was followed by one of the worst meals I’ve ever had. Despite asking for a ‘medium’ steak, which usually results in rare in France, it arrived with a coating of charcoal and the chips were so overdone they shattered when I tried to cut them and others had a similar experience.
Friday
The next day we set off for a ride which started clearish but a few miles down the road it started to rain.
Taking it very gently on the slippery French roads with shiny bald patches (a bit like the 118) we found ourselves in the hills a couple of k from Pre en Pail where there was a flashy looking viewing tower at the highest point.
, 
On our return to Fougeres we tanked up at the local ‘Supermarche’ and spotted the first outdoor launderette I’ve seen in Europe - must be fun in winter.
Luckily it cleared a bit for the music and as we headed out there was already a carnival atmosphere developing.
We ate at a restaurant behind the hotel, ‘Le P'tit Bouchon’ tonight and the food was fantastic, quite rich but very French.
Then it was off to look for the music. Into the square where the crowds were gathering in bistros and bars, complete with the 21st century ‘Joe Bar Team’ French Ducati rider. In the UK it would be ‘Oi - You can’t park that ‘ere’.
We ended up just down the road from the hotel where there was a rock band and a good atmosphere. A good thing about France is that with their clock settings it’s light until @ 11ish.
The band finished @ midnight so I decided to be sensible and head back to the hotel, finding the others who had remained in the seating area had already left. Back at the hotel I found a straggler grovelling around on hands and knees trying to open the door, which had the (worn out) lock conveniently placed about an inch from the ground. Being vertically challenged and more suited to the task (he is over six foot) I had a go and got us in. We made our way to our rooms but the music had kicked off again and sounded good so throwing caution to the winds I headed out again for more beer and sounds- always better after a few anyway, it eventually wrapped up at @1am.
Saturday
We had agreed on a leisurely start and a short ride but this was delayed for an hour after getting up to more sh*ite weather.
It cleared up for just long enough to get us moving then craftily started to chuck it down once we were on our way.
It cleared up briefly while we had lunch at a small village café near the coast, (I know ‘cos I saw signs for Mont Saint Micelle), then as it was still looking really black decided to head back to Fougeres while it was still dryish.
Well, wouldn’t cha know it, by the time we got back it was clearing up and the medieval festival was getting going which made up for the crap start.
There was a play in full swing as we headed down to the castle, M’Lady dancing for her lover
The king is not a happy chappie
But never fear, help is at hand
Happy ever after!
Further down the hill there was a chance for another snack, street food not restricted to Asia these days.
Around the castle itself there were lots of stalls and entertainers
Lady ‘chancing her arm’.
Guess these guys were the medieval ‘Judge Dread’.
Only in France
A lot of the participants looked like they really lived the life - that’s not a wig.
These folks doing a roaring trade
More music, nearly as colourful as the hill tribe ladies
Wouldn’t have been much fun trying to get up those walls with the defenders chucking everything they had at you
Back in the courtyard I found some of the lads already on the piss
We heard there was a grand ‘spectacle’ staged battle in the castle later and a couple of us hung around to see if we could get in but no luck, all tickets sold - ages ago on the net we heard later. Delayed by the attempt we rushed back to the hotel, I had the quickest shower ever and headed on to the chosen meeting bar. After we had all had another Leffe it was time to head for our last nights restaurant in the road opposite the hotel, which I think was La Gallette du Beffroi.
Some of us had wanted to play it safe and go back to ‘Le P'tit Bouchon’ after the first nights disaster but this turned out to be as good or even better than the previous night, the food being less rich but well presented and cooked, whatever the choice.
Sunday
About an hour after we left for the Ferry home the heavens opened and we battled rain and gale force winds most of the way to a late lunch following which we took the fast main roads the rest of the way to Cherbourg which was hard work on the Harley with the wind still blowing strongly.
Typically the weather calmed down by the time we left and the crossing back to Poole was about as smooth as it gets.
So after yet another cold and wet trip in what should be summer I am having a rethink about my choice of bike, especially as I have heard this cycle is going to continue for another ten years.
Stupid O’clock Thursday morning saw us waiting in the rain (this was to be the recurring theme of the trip for yet another year) at Poole ferry terminal.
This year the music festival coincided with the Le Mans 24 hrs, so we were lucky to get places on the ferry in competition with the exotic car crowd.
Looking out to sea it was even gloomier and the usual scenic cruise through the harbour and past Sandbanks (allegedly some of the most expensive ‘real estate’ in the world) was non existent.
We kept our fingers crossed and eventually as we neared France it started to clear.
Coming from a small island this bit is always exciting - a whole continent ahead - although this time we were just popping down the road.
After a surprisingly dry ride of around 120m steering clear of main roads and large towns where possible we arrived at the hotel and I found myself on the 3rd floor of the ‘Hotel Balzac’ with just enough room to swing a very small cat. But 50 Euros/night isn’t bad for France and at least they had a lift.
All showered etc we headed out for the obligatory beers and nosh up. Paul, the organiser has over the years converted us to ‘Leffe’, a strong blonde (definitely not lager) beer with a taste of its own originally brewed by Belgian monks in 1240. This was followed by one of the worst meals I’ve ever had. Despite asking for a ‘medium’ steak, which usually results in rare in France, it arrived with a coating of charcoal and the chips were so overdone they shattered when I tried to cut them and others had a similar experience.
Friday
The next day we set off for a ride which started clearish but a few miles down the road it started to rain.
Taking it very gently on the slippery French roads with shiny bald patches (a bit like the 118) we found ourselves in the hills a couple of k from Pre en Pail where there was a flashy looking viewing tower at the highest point.
, On our return to Fougeres we tanked up at the local ‘Supermarche’ and spotted the first outdoor launderette I’ve seen in Europe - must be fun in winter.
Luckily it cleared a bit for the music and as we headed out there was already a carnival atmosphere developing.
We ate at a restaurant behind the hotel, ‘Le P'tit Bouchon’ tonight and the food was fantastic, quite rich but very French.
Then it was off to look for the music. Into the square where the crowds were gathering in bistros and bars, complete with the 21st century ‘Joe Bar Team’ French Ducati rider. In the UK it would be ‘Oi - You can’t park that ‘ere’.
We ended up just down the road from the hotel where there was a rock band and a good atmosphere. A good thing about France is that with their clock settings it’s light until @ 11ish.
The band finished @ midnight so I decided to be sensible and head back to the hotel, finding the others who had remained in the seating area had already left. Back at the hotel I found a straggler grovelling around on hands and knees trying to open the door, which had the (worn out) lock conveniently placed about an inch from the ground. Being vertically challenged and more suited to the task (he is over six foot) I had a go and got us in. We made our way to our rooms but the music had kicked off again and sounded good so throwing caution to the winds I headed out again for more beer and sounds- always better after a few anyway, it eventually wrapped up at @1am.
Saturday
We had agreed on a leisurely start and a short ride but this was delayed for an hour after getting up to more sh*ite weather.
It cleared up for just long enough to get us moving then craftily started to chuck it down once we were on our way.
It cleared up briefly while we had lunch at a small village café near the coast, (I know ‘cos I saw signs for Mont Saint Micelle), then as it was still looking really black decided to head back to Fougeres while it was still dryish.
Well, wouldn’t cha know it, by the time we got back it was clearing up and the medieval festival was getting going which made up for the crap start.
There was a play in full swing as we headed down to the castle, M’Lady dancing for her lover
The king is not a happy chappie
But never fear, help is at hand
Happy ever after!
Further down the hill there was a chance for another snack, street food not restricted to Asia these days.
Around the castle itself there were lots of stalls and entertainers
Lady ‘chancing her arm’.
Guess these guys were the medieval ‘Judge Dread’.
Only in France
A lot of the participants looked like they really lived the life - that’s not a wig.
These folks doing a roaring trade
More music, nearly as colourful as the hill tribe ladies
Wouldn’t have been much fun trying to get up those walls with the defenders chucking everything they had at you
Back in the courtyard I found some of the lads already on the piss
We heard there was a grand ‘spectacle’ staged battle in the castle later and a couple of us hung around to see if we could get in but no luck, all tickets sold - ages ago on the net we heard later. Delayed by the attempt we rushed back to the hotel, I had the quickest shower ever and headed on to the chosen meeting bar. After we had all had another Leffe it was time to head for our last nights restaurant in the road opposite the hotel, which I think was La Gallette du Beffroi.
Some of us had wanted to play it safe and go back to ‘Le P'tit Bouchon’ after the first nights disaster but this turned out to be as good or even better than the previous night, the food being less rich but well presented and cooked, whatever the choice.
Sunday
About an hour after we left for the Ferry home the heavens opened and we battled rain and gale force winds most of the way to a late lunch following which we took the fast main roads the rest of the way to Cherbourg which was hard work on the Harley with the wind still blowing strongly.
Typically the weather calmed down by the time we left and the crossing back to Poole was about as smooth as it gets.
So after yet another cold and wet trip in what should be summer I am having a rethink about my choice of bike, especially as I have heard this cycle is going to continue for another ten years.
