Satnav knows best....(?)

So we programmed Bayonne into the satnav the night before, all the better not to waste time. Yeah. Because in the morning, we loaded up, got under way, trusted the satnav to get us out of Bordeaux and heading south-west. Only, the satnav got a bit confused. My grasp of French geography is patchy at best and it took me a while to feel sufficiently lost in France to make Lynn pull over. We'd gone 70km in the wrong direction. Satnav decided we meant bayon, not what we actually typed in. So we turned around. That little jaunt, by the time we got back to point A, cost us about 2 hours and all my petrol. So we stopped to fill up and my immobiliser promptly decided not to register. Uh-oh. Can't move. So Lynn, having originally said my spare keys were too well packed to extract(this was back in London) now had to unpack completely to find them in case it was the battery in my set that had gone. Nope, in the end, just random black-spot interference with the signal. So that was another 30mins wasted. We eventually paused for lunch in a sleepy little town where a sandwicherie was still open. I saw a Varadero parked up in front of it and a helmet on a table, so took that as a recommendation. Not a bad decision, as the rider was very friendly and chatty, although his lack of English and our lack of French made for some inspired charades. His pillion did her nest to translate between giggles. We didn't make Spain. We barely made the Pyrenees. But in the end we wound up in st Jean de pier pont, which is a tiny little basque town famous as a pilgrim route crossroads since the 11th century. As you can guess, we arrived in local history month/ the start of pilgrimage season - I'm still not certain which. But we found a hotel that didn't do wifi or hairdryers but did understand about bike parking and let us park in an enclosed little shelter round the back. We then wandered up and down and around until we'd worked out the kinks from rising a solid 9 hours, and I felt sufficiently well-rested (motivated) to practise my kung fu forms against a plane tree (they deserve it; they give me hayfever). Next stop: Spain