France
Camping Herrenwies, Black Forest → Moto Le Grange (~250 miles) → Alpaca Retreats, Folkestone, England (190 miles)
The French villages just over the German/French border were incredibly beautiful, perhaps a combination of German structure and French flair, whatever it is, they are all immaculately turned out.
Equally impressive, but far tastier than bricks and mortar, was the delightful selection of pastries and cakes from the artisanal boulangeries found in nearly every town. Like Charlie’s friends in the chocolate factory, we stopped at almost every display and sampled... well, more than we should’ve.
The forever roads of France.
Our destination was the excellent Moto Le Grange, run by Anita and Jeroen. It’s biker-themed, big with the Harley crowd, and caters with a hearty three-course meal. I came here last year and had been looking forward to returning for the past 11 months.
We spent a great night with a biker gang, smashing the honesty beer fridges, and enjoyed a slower start the next morning courtesy of Anita’s breakfast spread.
Anita, the host and Chef.
A quick 172-mile schlep through France, punctuated, of course, by more boulangeries, left us a bit fatter as we arrived at the Calais port to get the Carnet stamped by French customs. All done painlessly, and we boarded the ferry.
A little man also.came to the Boulanger on his electric scooter.
A catnap in the sun and three litres of duty-free later, we were in the UK, hunting down the west dock in Dover, where goods are cleared for UK entry. Handsome!!
The car park was gigantic, being a truck park and the bikes looked like small insects next to the natives. We fitted under the entry barriers, which meant we missed picking up our entry ticket when it was our turn to be processed. I was also missing a letter of authority and some French paperwork. But lady luck was on our side, and the bikes were stamped into the UK in about 30 minutes.
Tonight, we’re staying at Hoad Meadow Alpaca Retreat, owned by two young, hippy types with London accents. They’ve built this place themselves, which is impressive, less impressive is the sawdust caravan toilet. Hmm... not sure what to do with the sawdust.
Apparently, the council’s applying pressure to shut it down. The retreat, that is. Not the toilet (although... maybe both?).
Woke at 4:30 a.m. to the sound of a full-blown domestic. Two of the other campers were having it out, striding around shouting, the dog barking, the other men gathered and the camp owner told them to cease. (Less politely)
Welcome to England. Home of the chav
Morning coffee nailed. Fresh drip coffee courtesy of Ali Express...mmm
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