Another morning waking up in a forest with rain splattering the tent. I came to France to avoid the Sydney winter. You call this summer?
I think my tent is becoming a biological sample set of France’s forest micro organisms. Every time I pitch it on a damp, spongy forest floor it picks up a few extra million rare fungi, bacteria, slugs and insects. I’ll need to scrub it before I return to Australia.
Today’s ride was to the tdf finish town of Boulogne Sur Mer. A howling crosswind made it an entertaining and somewhat cold ride. We had planned to stop for a supermarket visit and lunch along the way but none of the smaller towns had a supermarket.
Boulogne is on the coast, and the wind here was stronger and colder than ever. This was particularly evident when we went into a shop or tourism office, where I would immediately start sweating and then freeze again when walking outside.
I gave myself a fright when I passed a mirror in the supermarket. Beard is progressing quickly.
After our usual stops we sought out the Decathlon sports shop where I bought a new saddle. My beloved old Ideale 90 has suffered from all the rain and the leather has collapsed under my sit bones turning it into a prostate grinder. I picked up a Selle Italia racing saddle and a pair of mini panniers on the spur of the moment as well. They should make it easier to carry food as long as they don’t flap into my spokes and destroy the new wheel that I built before coming over here.
Hey, I went to Boulogne Sur Mer in 1985. I visited a Hypermart and bought a jar of Nutella. Then went back to England.