To the Atlantic!

My word - has it really been that long? I've fallen out of the habit of sitting down to write, and as ever the longer you leave it the more difficult it is to pick it up further down the line. It's been about two weeks since my last entry, so apologies to you (assuming that there's still anyone left reading it at the moment). So where are we? I'm now in Royen, North-West of Bordeaux and quite a long way from Narbonne where I was heading towards when last we spoke. Narbonne was a pleasant enough town, though the ride to it from Agde was notable mainly for the fight against the wind which was blowing up a treat by then. The weather had turned quite quickly again and I found myself facing gale force winds, drizzle and a swiftly coldening (if that's not a word I'm officially making it up) general temperature. My initial plan was to head off the next day towards Carcassone, but a combination of the worsening weather and a strong desire to watch the Grand Prix heralded a new plan. A short ride up the road to a new campsite (cheaper, nicer and with better wifi) brought the new experience of pitching my tent in the morning, and then a swift jaunt into Narbonne proper to try and find somewhere to watch the F1. For the country that brought forth Alain Prost into the world, and have had numerous teams competing in the competition, the French pretty much ignore the races themselves - even in a town as large as Narbonne there was nowhere showing the race. That was that plan out the window. My next attempt was to return to the campsite (a 15km round trip) to try to stream the race, with equally poor results. As good as the BBC's coverage is, text commentary just isn't the same. As the weather still had not improved by the next morning, I jumped on a train again and set out towards Pau on the foothills of the Pyrenees. It turned out that I wasn't the only cyclist paying heed to the weather, as every bicycle compartment in the train was full to overflowing by the time we left the station! I spent the majority of the trip in the company of a German couple who had driven to Narbonne, left their car there and were heading in towards the mountains. To cycle back with the wind behind them. The gent (I can't for the life of me remember his name, so a stereotypical Hans will have to do) had retired earlier that year, at 55, and had already ridden the Alps as a "celebration". I would have thought Champagne more appropriate, but it takes all types! He regaled me with stories of being chased by dogs on the Santiago de la Compostela pilgrimage, and riding around Iceland amongst others which really reminded me how much there is to see out there. I jumped off the train just outside Pau and stopped off in a campsite called Les Okiras which was a pleasant surprise - very classy, but very reasonable as well with a well stocked bar and very proficient kitchen! My dinner that evening consisted of duck, duck, duck and duck - heaven. There was a lake right next to the campsite with a wakeboarding/kitesurfing training rig installed which comprised of what looked like electricity pylons linked up to each other in a circuit by ropes and handles being pulled round a course of jumps and obstacles. I know a few people who would have jumped at the chance, but watching was more than enough exercise for me! If I'm honest, I was dreading the next day as it was my first jaunt back into serious hills and mountains since Tuscany. The ride proved tough, as expected, but fuelled by bananas and Mars bars I made it through safely! The last part of the ride was through some lovely rustic French towns with a really soul-warming sun on my back. My stop for that night (and almost the next week as it turned out) was Camping Beau Rivage in Navarrenx, owned and run by Richard and Wendy Curtis, old friends of ours from Jersey who left some yeas ago to run (albeit a different one) a campsite in France. Although to my eyes they haven't changed a bit, in their eyes I had - several feet in fact! The last time they had laid eyes on me was probably twelve years previously, and they had no idea that I was even on teh road let alone near the in Navarrenx! Their daughter, Sophie, happened to be visiting home that weekend, so I joined her and some of her friends for a lovely home- cooked dinner and entertainment! As a little plug, Beau Rivage is amongst the nicest of all the campsites that I have visited on my trip - it's clean, quiet, shaded and very pretty with good facilities and very close to the charming walled town of Navarrenx. It's about 100k inland from Biarritz and if anyone is down in that area I honestly can't recommend it highly enough. Pro-tip - try to get down there for a Friday or Sunday night when Richard is cooking to try and raise his stress levels! I was treated to several meals out whilst I was there, plus a lovely and ery professionally cooked pizza, and the bottle of wine that I bought as a little thank you was forced straight back into my hands, despite my obviously hearty and lengthy protestations. Ufortuantely whilst I was there I managed to twinge my back (it's still not quite right even now) which delayed my departure, but eventually I bit the bullet and jumped back on the bike towards Biarritz and Bayonne. I think that's probably enough for now - it's not up to where I am, but it's already a long one, so I'll get the rest ready over the next couple of days and post it soon. Hope all are well, and see you all soon.