Miles to go before I Sleep

Miles to go before I Sleep
I would suggest, if you're thinking of going to Spain, to visit
Huesca. Stay at the sancho abarca (and possibly explain to the chef
that fish are not vegetables). Then do as we did and look st the
satellite, which suggested we cross the Pyrenees further south to
avoid the thunderstorms predicted.
We headed for barbastro, then for benabarre on the n132 & over the
border on n230. I recommend both roads. They are stunning; the
twisties, the scenery, the cute little villages dotted along them. The
lack of trucks because they're too heavy and there are motorway
options. The cold tunnels often cut into the bare rock.
At one viewpoint, we pulled over for a photo op and ran into the
dunedin chapter, on their way home as well.
We paused for lunch on the border, in a tiny town that had an
ingenious tapas bar where everything was on skewers, buffet style, and
at the end, they count your empty skewers. One way to make you clear
your table. We crossed the border without noticing until i saw a sign
saying Chassee Deformee, which i love as a phrase for bad roads.
We were doing really well for time when we got to Montrejeau just
before the peage. So we decided to take free roads instead. Silly
cheapskate decision - must be those Scots we bumped into rubbing off
on me.
Don't get me wrong: the N21 isn't a bad road. In fact, it would be
quite nice to ride if we weren't worried about the time, because we'd
booked into a hotel just beyond Limoges.
Once you're on the N21, it goes away from the motorway, so it becomes
pointless to try and get back to the peage when you realize how long
this is now taking. My excuse if stopped? Sorry, officer, I must have
been reading the wrong dial on my speedo... Luckily, we didn't hit
cameras or cops. We saw some bike police, going the otherway, notably
in shirt-sleeves with no hi-vis in sight. Clearly not into that idea,
should it actually become compulsory in France.
Eventually, 550 odd miles later, we finally made it to Route 66 where
we were inserting the bikes into the garage when Harry came to meet
us, complete with kilt as predicted. He bought us a drink in his bar,
and then we had dinner. It was my Best meal on trip, even if Chef sam
was more offended by my dietary restrictions than our lateness.
Seriously: stay here if you're between Poitiers and Limoges. And like
bikes.


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