There was a nice spread for brekkie, amongst the best we have had. We filled up with the usual continental fare and Grizzly his half gallon (slight exaggeration) of strong coffee. Fed, we hit the road again, next stop, somewhere, would need to be a fuel stop.
The weather forecast was looking good again, though there was a threat of thunderstorms around Paris. We would be far enough away not to get wet though.
We set out, heading north eastish. I was on the lookout for a fuel stop. Pont L'Eveque itself had a small one but there was a queue, so we rode on by. And we rode on and on. The Sprint's fuel gauge showed 2 bars, which usually gives me about 40 miles. Consumption was down so I maybe had 50 in the tank. As we continued, I saw signs for fuel but never actually saw the fuel stations. Before long I was down to one bar and suddenly we seemed to be in the middle of a huge forest. Now I'm not one to panic but I was starting to get twitchy. I had no idea how long we would be going through this terrain, with no map, only a ribbon of road to follow on tomtom and we'd done about 15 miles since I hit one bar. In the UK I fill up every 200 miles, I reckoned I could maybe get 240 out of it. At the moment I wasn't sure what I'd done. Eventually we came to a roundabout at a major looking road. I pulled over and told Grizzly we needed to find fuel. His older tomtom allows him to search for such things as petrol stations, if mine does, I've not worked out how yet. 650 metres down a side road or 3.3k.
We set off down the side road, which led to a village. An old disused pump sat at the side of the road. Would now be a good time to panic? Grizzly checked tomtom again and said he didn't have anything showing now, then he took off, me in nervous pursuit. Two left turns and there was a fuel station, behind a small parade of shops. The usual unmanned 24 hour job but it was open, that was the main thing. With a sigh of relief, I fuelled up. I had covered 225 miles but it only took 17.5 litres, so I still had 2.5 litres left in the tank. What was I panicking for, good for another 20 miles at least ;-)
Back on the main road we set about covering some mileage, crossing the River Seine, before we pulled into a Les Routiers café for a coffee. There were a few truckers in there, one having a wash in the rest room. As English speaking bikers, we weren't exactly welcomed with a double cheeker. They were more interested in the TV, reporting on the previous days' minibus/juggernaut collision in which 6 people (4 kids) had died.
Back on the bikes, our next stop was the scheduled fuel stop We'd covered about 70 miles since the enforced stop, so this was a splash and dash. As it turned out, we didn't actually go to the scheduled stop. I was just about to turn off the main road when I spotted a Total garage ahead, so we went to that one instead. I used my card and we filled both bikes, not much over €15 for the pair, then we were on our way to Corbie cemetery, the final resting place of my Grandfather's cousin, William.
This time we were blessed with blazing sunshine. On day 1, at Charles Devall's grave, it had been peeing down. This was an altogether more pleasant experience, if I can say that. The gardeners were on site leaf blowing and grass cutting. At the grave, I found a poppy cross, placed there by my brother Paul, just 3 days earlier. I placed my own tribute and took some photos. At this point, a gardener came up and gave me some round lead pellets and a bullet, apparently from La Guerre. How he's come by these just lying about the cemetery after all these years, I don't know. I thanked him and we made our way back to the bikes.
It was lunchtime, so we set off in search of somewhere to eat. We'd hardly got into second gear when we happened across a LIDL supermarket. In we went, picked up some ready made sarnies and energy drinks and ate them in the car park. Deja vue?
The weather forecast was looking good again, though there was a threat of thunderstorms around Paris. We would be far enough away not to get wet though.
We set out, heading north eastish. I was on the lookout for a fuel stop. Pont L'Eveque itself had a small one but there was a queue, so we rode on by. And we rode on and on. The Sprint's fuel gauge showed 2 bars, which usually gives me about 40 miles. Consumption was down so I maybe had 50 in the tank. As we continued, I saw signs for fuel but never actually saw the fuel stations. Before long I was down to one bar and suddenly we seemed to be in the middle of a huge forest. Now I'm not one to panic but I was starting to get twitchy. I had no idea how long we would be going through this terrain, with no map, only a ribbon of road to follow on tomtom and we'd done about 15 miles since I hit one bar. In the UK I fill up every 200 miles, I reckoned I could maybe get 240 out of it. At the moment I wasn't sure what I'd done. Eventually we came to a roundabout at a major looking road. I pulled over and told Grizzly we needed to find fuel. His older tomtom allows him to search for such things as petrol stations, if mine does, I've not worked out how yet. 650 metres down a side road or 3.3k.
We set off down the side road, which led to a village. An old disused pump sat at the side of the road. Would now be a good time to panic? Grizzly checked tomtom again and said he didn't have anything showing now, then he took off, me in nervous pursuit. Two left turns and there was a fuel station, behind a small parade of shops. The usual unmanned 24 hour job but it was open, that was the main thing. With a sigh of relief, I fuelled up. I had covered 225 miles but it only took 17.5 litres, so I still had 2.5 litres left in the tank. What was I panicking for, good for another 20 miles at least ;-)
Back on the main road we set about covering some mileage, crossing the River Seine, before we pulled into a Les Routiers café for a coffee. There were a few truckers in there, one having a wash in the rest room. As English speaking bikers, we weren't exactly welcomed with a double cheeker. They were more interested in the TV, reporting on the previous days' minibus/juggernaut collision in which 6 people (4 kids) had died.
 |
| Could've been, if I'd run out of fuel! |
This time we were blessed with blazing sunshine. On day 1, at Charles Devall's grave, it had been peeing down. This was an altogether more pleasant experience, if I can say that. The gardeners were on site leaf blowing and grass cutting. At the grave, I found a poppy cross, placed there by my brother Paul, just 3 days earlier. I placed my own tribute and took some photos. At this point, a gardener came up and gave me some round lead pellets and a bullet, apparently from La Guerre. How he's come by these just lying about the cemetery after all these years, I don't know. I thanked him and we made our way back to the bikes.
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| William Devall R.I.P. |
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