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Wild Motorcycle Tales

Drifting in France - Part 2

After a while, conditions worsen. I should stop and put on the suits, but I don't. That would mean defeat, submission to the weather and I dangerously continue to roll the dice knowing full well what happens when leathers get soaked wet. Visibility is down to 150 yards, so I take refuge behind a truck. Here, trucks are not as fast as in the US. They are governed to 60 mph so there's not much turbulence behind them. This one is from Poland. We follow him for a few miles then I give up, and pull into the next gas station. We need fuel and food anyway.

We have a quick, hot meal. My wife is in a good mood but there's a gloomy feeling lingering over: the possibility of spending the next week in this weather.

After the coffee, we're ready to leave. It seems to be clearing off. It's 13:30 and we have a long way to go.

Back on the highway all is well. The weather is improving. One hour later, we reach Niort, and I pull into a gas station before we change to the A-10 towards Bordeaux. It's a Leclerc station, nice, even has a kind of a living room inside. I quickly settle into the couch to enjoy a cup of coffee. My wife is looking at a map on the wall and calls me over. She's worried about arriving at Bordeaux at peak hour and getting stuck in traffic on the bypass. She points to a shortcut passing trough Angouleme. I hesitate. Most secondary roads are slow going here, there's a village every 10 miles, with runabouts, stop lights, then the mobile chicanes: tractors, semis, old guys in Renaults, etc. I study the map once more and then decide we'll stick to the original plan.

Back outside, things are looking up, and off we go, following the green signs that say "Bordeaux." Another hour of uneventful highway travel and I see a sign: "Cognac, Angouleme." Without even thinking, I take the exit, the shortcut my wife spoke about, and soon we're doing 40 mph behind a truck.

The near sunny afternoon, great scenery and even passing though Cognac, the famous town where all the big brands are, could not make up for the fact that we were advancing at the pace of a sailboat, impossible to arrive at Sarlat today.

The torture continued for the rest of the afternoon and just as the sun settles, low on fuel, we arrive at Angouleme, without any idea where we're going to sleep. I follow the indications to downtown, looking for a cafe. Like many towns around here, this one is composed by a very old center surrounded by more modern suburbs complete with malls and supermarkets. It must be where the Addams family's ancestors lived. Boy what a gloomy dark city!

As we reach the center, located on top of a steep hill, we stop to look at a statue and take some photos, then we continue traveling on narrow gray streets surrounded by old macabre building fronts covered in moss. It looked like a city of vampires. We ended up on a small square with a big menacing looking building on one side and a cafe on the other. I park next to some scooters.

The nice cup of coffee and a fabulous piece of cake made me feel much better. We ask the lady behind a counter for hotels. She explains that there were lots around, but the closest was just 200 yards away, nice, old, and with "charm."

Soon after, we re-mount and go looking. Two blocks away we found a little plaza with a fountain, then the hotel. I parked in front of it and stayed with the bike while my wife went in to check. We were only going to stay there if there was a garage for the bike. I didn't want the vampires messing with my ride in the middle of the night.

Fifteen minutes later she comes out followed by a smiling, well dressed man, like the concierges in the horror movies. They motion to follow, so I fire up and follow them 50 yards to a garage, where he lets me park next to the boss's car, a place of honor I guess. I remove the bag and we go in.

"No way in hell," I said when I saw the inside. "I'm not sleeping here, Look at this place. It's full of ghosts"

The old hotel had been renovated, surely the project of someone's enthusiastic and affluent wife. The walls were deep red, the stairs and its intricate iron work were purple. Incredibly there was a modern elevator. On the second floor we entered a dark corridor, more like a vaulted ceiling tunnel, and found the very old wooden door of our room.

Inside, the surprises continued. The whole room was painted in a deep peach color, even the ancient iron radiator that dutifully continued to heat the room. "Is this to keep the ghosts away? I commented. "Only dufuses like us would sleep in a room this color"

After settling in, we went to a nearby bar to eat, came back took showers and slept.

The next morning we went down for breakfast. I decided to try the stairs. They were so old, the steps creaked and sagged under my weight. I tried to imagine how many people had already passed through here, and what it must have been like 100 years ago.

Then we came to a fabulous red room, with heavy red curtains, red table tops, red window frames and a very old wooden floor. A copious breakfast awaited. I could not get over the room, it looked like something out of "The Shining" movie. We calmly enjoyed our breakfast, relaxing in another world.

I told the young girl behind the desk that I demanded a discount. A ghost woke me up several times last night, but I was too drunk to scream was my story.

"There are no ghosts here," she said firmly, as she handed me the bill.

Then I told her we were looking for fuel. "Go that way and follow the hospital indications?" she said. Now that's drifting.

What a nice day! Almost no clouds in the sky, about 65 degrees F. We rode with smiles as we looked for the gas station. We found it easily, tanked up and continued on our way towards Perigueux, then Sarlat la Caneda.

As we saddled up in the next gas station I told my wife, "First cafe with tables on the sidewalk, I'll stop." 70 miles later I was still looking for one. I couldn't believe it. We passed at least 8 villages, and there was no cafe open. Of course, if we left the main road and went to the village's church, we were sure to find one. There's always an open cafe in front of the church.

We bypassed Perigueux and arrived at the A-89 highway where we pulled into a big modern gas station just in time to have lunch. We had a good meal in the well stocked cafeteria, rested, then got back on the road. We had only about 50 miles to go, the sun was shining and the road was great. We could feel we were out of the "dark ages" and into tourist land.

We rode happy and slow, enjoying the first sunny day in more than two weeks. After some time, we came upon a small pic-nic area on the side of the road. It was located next to an old railroad bridge with big arches, like a viaduct. We parked and lay down on the pic-nic tables soaking up the sun. It felt great staring up into the sky and listening to the breeze in the leaves, with not a worry in our lives. "This is where the vacation starts," I said.

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