Jun 19 2023

Relaxing in the Val de Loire by the backroads

Well that was an interesting night. The storm that huffed and puffed at our little tent for an hour last night abated and apart from a wet tent, exterior only I am pleased to say, we are dry and planning to take the back roads for the next few days. I am very glad we deployed all the tent’s guide ropes to make it more secure. We were staying in a small campsite in the country at Eaux-Puiseaux, no villages or towns for kilometres. It was mostly occupied by Dutch caravans and motorhomes as the location is a pleasant day’s drive from the Netherlands for those travelling further South. The plots are massive compared with the Municipal campsites and shielded from each other by high thick hedges.

Relaxing at the campsite at Eaux-Puiseaux South West of Troyes.

Our earlier time constraints saw us mainly riding autoroutes which, while having quick transit times, do not allow us full enjoyment of the French countryside and the small towns and villages dotted along the route. The slower routes have so much to offer, scenery, town centres, good food and coffee. Today the “Organic Map” App has tolls switched off and our journey will take twice as long. Taking the D965 will take us most of the way to Vierzon and the next campsite Anne has identified.

A view of Auxerre from the river.
Cafe Le Paul Bert in Auxerre, great coffee and even better service.

Having lunched at Service Stations on the Autoroutes since we started riding in France, we are looking forward to just finding a small village restaurant to lunch at. How to decide, just the ‘feel’ is how we do it. We are passing through Saint-Fargeau and it just seems right. A quaint place with five restaurants to choose from. Lunch at Le Bistrot du Chateau saw Anne’s tuna cooked to perfection. The Chef was from the south and seafood his speciality. This is a great reason to take the backroads.

No more motorway meals for us.
Time for lunch at Le Bistro du Chateau

As we navigate through Vailly-sur-Sauldre on the D926 heading west, Anne informs me that the warning triangle has appeared and then “Tyre pressure dropping, 2.0 bar, 1.8 bar”. We pull over and Anne learns from a local that there is a garage around the corner. Yes there is but it is closed. Must be Monday. We check Anne’s tyres with a handheld pressure gauge but both are fine. Must be a faulty sensor.

Looking at the weather in the direction of the next campsite, it is an ominous dark grey. The weather map shows a line of thunderstorms in that direction and an “Orange” warning for thunderstorms has been issued. Discretion is called for and we quickly book a hotel to the south in Bourges to avoid the inclement weather. As we prepare to leave Anne notices my rear tyre is deflated. I have the problem on my bike but Anne is picking it up on hers. Inspection reveals a large screw in the centre of my tyre all the way in.

Dead centre hard to repeat I hope.

As we hunt for the tyre repair kit, I do lament leaving the compressor behind for that extra packet of tasty biscuits, and we ponder how the problem of one motorbike’s low tyre pressure is showing up on another. The only explanation we can come up with is that somehow the wireless tyre pressure monitors got swapped over when we had new tyres fitted. That has been in the UK, USA, Costa Rica and Dubai all the way back to 2014! Since we check the pressures regularly and we have the same tyres, without this puncture we would never have known. Who would have thought it.

Now how does this work again?

This is my first puncture ever on my motorcycle, that I can remember. I have fixed Anne’s in Kazakstan 2014 and Ian’s, who we met at the side of the road in Peru, in 2015. That’s it. Turns out both the repair kit and I are a little rusty. Some faded instructions explain the gist of what I need to do and I can confirm that “Ream until easy to move the reamer” is accurate. Without this first step other steps do NOT work. Anyway just as I am finishing up, successfully I think but I still needing to test the tyre pressure after emptying five small compressed air cylinders into Storm’s rear type, a car pulls up and we meet Patrick, who has pulled over to see if he can help. Patrick turns out to be a local fireman, well not quite, he has some 1,600 firemen reporting to him! A lovely guy who wants us to let him know that we have reached our destination safely, Merci Patrick, this is one of the reasons we travel to meet people. Tyre pressure is spot on we are off again. Will it last is the question.

Our window to avoid the storm has passed and only a tantalising 30km short of our destination the storm hits. Our KLIM riding gear, which has seen snow to 46 degrees celsius starts to show its age. Slowly we feel the water seeping through both the pants and jacket in a couple of places. One can only put off replacing old equipment for so long. Oh well, we live and learn.

Testing weather for our not so “Waterproof” gear.

We have found the drivers on the whole in France treat motorcyclists well. Many have slowed on the Autoroutes to allow both of us to overtake as well as let us pass in traffic. After the storm we even had the Gendarme clearing the road of fallen branches for us. Now that is what I call service.

Our “escort” clearing the branches for us after the storm on the backroads.

After a drying night we decide that the daily it seems bands of rain and thunderstorms we will see us stay in one location for the next couple of nights. We are heading for Chinon where we will base ourselves for a few of days and get to enjoy riding without the kitchen sink.

– Anthony

Jun 18 2023

Going down memory lane


“Come and meet the English boy” shouted my best friend Annick excitedly across the fence. Annick’s two brothers had just spent a couple of weeks in Kent as part of a school exchange trip.  While there, they got to met and befriend the barman at their local. When they left on the Wednesday, they told him he should come over to see them in France sometime. 3 days later, he arrived at the train station in Saint-Quentin and called them:  I’m here!!!  That was a bit sooner than they expected and totally unplanned but the welcome he got from the whole family was no less enthusiastic and warm.  

Anyway, over I went to Annick’s house, and there, in Bruno’s bedroom was the English boy, long haired, and wearing a blue top, chinos and pig skin shoes. I took my usual favourite spot in Bruno’s room, where I used to spend hours listening to his music: on the window-sill.

The bedroom where we met!

This was late summer 1974, the evenings are long and Anthony and I spent several hours chatting – the conversation was easy and flowing. There was an undeniable connection. When it was time for me to leave, I gave him my special leather and silver bracelet.

The three “A’s” Annick, Anthony and Anne
49 years later same location, sadly Annick is no longer with us.

The next day, we met up again, listening to more music and already making plans to meet up in the UK at Christmas time. I made that trip 4 months later with my brother and his girlfriend. 

It was lucky Anthony decided to take up the offer to visit his new friends in France so soon as my parents and I left that part of northern France the following week for the swiss border. “Never put off to tomorrow what you can do today” has remained our mantra ever since. 

Going from Bayeux to Reims to see my niece, was the perfect opportunity to go back to where I spent my childhood and where Anthony and I met that summer of 1974.  

The new owner of the house next door to mine and where we met came out, intrigued that anyone would be taking photos of his house.  He seemed really touched at our story and insisted we come in.  That’s when emotions came flooding in for me, remembering the hundreds of times I used to visit to see my best friend Annick and her brother Bruno. 

After this emotional trip down memory lane, we went to see Annick’s mother, now in a nursing home.  It is tragic that her husband and all 3 children have all passed away. She was pleased that we had visited their grave in the village of Fayet before seeing her.

A short trip through the northern France countryside I love so much and we are in Reims to see my niece. That countryside is flat and might be boring for most people, but when it was the place you grew up, went walking with your dog, or cycling or sat in the fields with your school friends, it brings so many happy memories and feels so serene.

The village of Fayet where we met and Anne grew up
Anne loves the poppies
Le plat pays qui est le mien

We do none of the touristy things in Reims such as visiting the cathedral etc as our only reason for being there this week end is to spend time with my niece. This is after all a trip to see family above all else.

Happy times with Anne’s niece Marion

After Reims, our next stop is Troyes: a medieval old town featuring narrow, cobbled streets lined with colorful, half-timbered houses, mostly dating from the 16th century.

Troyes gendarmerie
Allée des Chats, Troyes
Anne looking for something with a little more horsepower.

All towns and villages in France always have a monument those who gave their lives to liberate the town or city. The monument in Troyes was particularly striking, designed by Jean-Charles Lallement sculptor in 1955. The title of the sculpture is “ Medidate and Remember”.

Liberation monument in Troyes
A striking sculpture with the martyr lying on the ground

I wonder if we’ll get to our next camping spot before the huge storm that has been forecast…

– Anne

Jun 14 2023

Normandy Landing

The ramp slowly descends allowing an ever increasing stream of light onto the forward deck of Brittany Ferries’ “Cotentin”.  I am first in line to depart if I can get the new gloves and helmet on, plus ensure all the pockets are done up. Ready to go.

Come on, get ready quicker, the ramp is coming down.

There appears to me to be a labyrinth of laneways that radiate from the ship’s birth each seemingly designated for a different form of transport.  I cunningly let a regular traveller precede me on his motorbike, sometimes it’s better to be a follower than a leader.

The crossing was very smooth and we spent an enjoyable evening with Hugh and Paul who we met waiting to board the ship.  They have travelled extensively in Europe visiting many amazing places, something we still aspire to do.  Safe riding guys.

For the first time I am not using our trusty Garmin Montana 540 for navigation. With battery and screen problems and the broken on/off switch, it has moved to the reserves bench, still mounted on Storm I hasten to add.  The cost of a new GPS compared with the availability of offline maps on the iPhone has )led to the investment in a Quad Lock mount for the bike. My iPhone now sits securely alongside the Garmin providing directions as we enter Le Havre. 

“Ride on the right” comes through the intercom from Anne. A welcome reminder that we decide should be our mantra each time we start riding. In a car, we look for the driver’s seat to be in the middle of the road – a little more difficult with a motorbike. Traffic is light as we head out of town although it takes a time to get used to local traffic signs and rules.

After a couple wrong turns, as I learn how to read the phone maps and we are heading south over the Pont de Normandie: a magnificent cable stayed road bridge.  No tolls for motorcycles just stay to the right and a free pass to the other-side awaits. The bridge provides commanding views of the river Seine and surrounding countryside. There is also a bike lane as part of the roadway over the bridge and more surprisingly a narrow footpath separated from the road by a low concrete curb. In other countries, high walls would provide safety separation. Here you take some responsibility for your own risk.  

We are approaching the Pont du Normandie.
Note the pedestrian on the left.

Anne has always wanted to see the Bayeux tapestry and our arrival via Le Havre creates the perfect opportunity. I also thought that we could visit some of the D Day landing beaches since the anniversary of the landings was only a week before our arrival. We only have some 100 ml. / 160 km. to cover today but taking the Autoroute will give us more time to sightsee.  Anne’s research, which she does so well, has identified the British D-Day war memorial and the Mulberry harbour as potential spots to visit. We have a busy day ahead of us.

We had a short night on the boat so a few extra zzz’s are always welcome. The KLIM riding gear makes for a great self contained mattress which works well on any surface.  We have both found the need for a quick daytime nap over the years. 

KLIM comfortable sleeping mat, note new helmet

Our first stop is at Courseulles-sur-Mer which was part of Juno beach on the D-Day landings. Canadian Forces landed here and took the fortifications which were blown up and today sit at a crazy angle in the sand.  General De Gaulle also first set foot on French soil again here a few days later. 

Destroyed fortifications at Juno beach
Looking west along “Juno” landing beach.
British Churchill Tank at Juno Beach, an Engineers’ version.

It was only in July 2015 following a meeting between George Batts, a Normandy landing veteran, and BBC journalist Nicholas Witchell that the idea of a monument to forces under British command who gave their lives on D-Day took shape with the Normandy Memorial Trust being formed.  Subsequent financing led to the purchase of 18 hectares of land and the building of the monument to the west of Ver-sur-Mer.  The size of the land allows the monument to be some distance from the car park and unlikely to be encroached by any future construction.  A very good idea.

On the pathway to the memorial.
The approach to British Normandy Memorial.

The monument designed by architect Liam O’Conner faces the sea overlooking eastern end of Gold beach. The view is serene, one cannot contemplate what faced the combatants back on June 6th.  The walls in the centre of the monument contains the names of the 1,746 who died on the 6th of June 1944. The columns that surround the monument hold the remaining name of the  

22,442 who died up till 31 August 1944. A separate memorial remembers the estimated 12,000 French civilians who died during the liberation of Normandy.

Sculpture of British soldiers by David Williams-Ellis at the British Normandy Memorial.
In memory of the fallen.


As I walk past the columns I am struck by the ages of those who died. Some were still teenagers with their lives ahead of them who gave their lives for our freedom today. Thank you.

All those who died.

The remains of the Mulberry Harbour is fascinating, a complete harbour, two in fact, although one was destroyed by storm soon after creation to provide supplies to the Allied troops after D-Day.  Floated across the Channel and sunk to form a harbour, even almost 80 years later some sections still seem to be intact.

Mulberry harbour

A short ride to Bayeux and a municipal campsite within walking distance of town is a great find. We can walk along a picturesque riverbank avoiding road traffic to the centre. 

Along the river in Bayeux
Bayeux Cathedral
Inside Bayeux Cathedral.


The Bayeux Tapestry is something I recalled from history at school depicting the Battle of Hastings in 1066 between William of Normandy, not yet Conquerer,  and Harold King of England.   In reality the battle only takes up a portion of the tapestry, the rest chronicles the events leading up the battle starting some two years earlier in 1064. Today it could be a movie plot with intrigue, betrayal, action and a lot more. Believed to have been commissioned around 1070 by Bishop Odo of Bayeux, William’s half-brother, it has survived and well worth the visit. Do get the audio accompaniment which highlights parts that would be missed or not understood unless you are a scholar of the tapestry.  

No pictures allowed. You will have to visit yourself.

You may recall the last post referred to the search for knives on motorcyclists leaving the UK which seemed a little bizarre to us.  I now have some context from a friend who lives in France.  It seems some time back that British motorcyclists were having their motorcycles stolen by being grabbed off the motorbikes while stopped, say in traffic, and the motorbikes stolen.  I gather this happens in the UK as well, hence some riders may have started carrying knives.  An American friend commented people there would be puzzled they were not carrying guns!

Tomorrow we head to St Quentin, where for Anne and I our journey began back in 1974. Anne will tell the story of the first time we met in the next blog.

– Anthony

Jun 13 2023

Prepare to depart….

We recently opened a bottle of wine which we had laid down some years ago. Age had improved the wine, a McClaren Vale Shiraz giving an enjoyable drinking experience. I wish the same aging process applied to the various electronic components that we travel with.

In 2014, some 9 years ago, we purchased our Garmin GPS, a Gopro 5, the newly launched Sena S20 headsets and a subscription to WordPress. We are still using the same equipment and tools today with a few cracks, and sticky tape holding them together.  One has to wonder how long  everything will last and that includes us, and Streak and Storm.

I have noticed other blogs are using the latest techniques, multiple cameras, edited video etc, but for this trip we dinosaurs will soldier on in the same old fashion, so no modern approach from us, sorry.

Sort of missing the on/off button.
Slightly cracked screen on GoPro. 5

With Annes’s mystery affliction, an enigma according to the specialists who treated her, now receding into the past, we are ready for a new adventure.  I must say that based on my previous experiences I prefer to visit the patient in hospital rather than be one.  Anyway onward we go. 

We spend our first week seeing Anne’s sister Diane and, once over the jetlag, Anne’s mother in Kent. Good laughs, good food, games of Canasta and Scrabble, revisiting old haunts – it is good to see family again.

No comments needed.
Time for Pizza.
At our old haunt from the 1980’s in Greenwich.

After 2022’s week long (not!) motorcycle adventure to Cornwall, we thought that a slightly longer trip might be in order. With the increases in travel costs including car hire, could we link together visiting family and friends with some motorcycle riding?  Well that’s our excuse anyway.  This year’s ride will have a Celtic theme as we travel through Brittany, Ireland and a little of the Scottish lowlands.

One would think that, with all our “experience”, packing and loading Streak and Storm would be a simple hour long exercise.  Alas no – we have travelled with two bulging suitcases, the contents of which will in no way fit into the panniers, plus we could not exactly remember what we had left behind last time. Oh well as they said at school, could do better.

Streak and Storm relaxing after 10 months at the “Spa”
Are they really this disorganised? Sadly yes!

Off we go with the usual nervousness I have when getting on a motorbike I have not ridden for some time.  All the controls feel different but as we head out towards Southampton I become more comfortable and the enjoyment of being on the road again rises.  The weather is perfect high 20’s Celsius: as long as we do not stop too often in traffic the airflow keeps us cool.

Setting off down a English country lane.


After a comfortable night at the Hilton at the Ageas Bowl overlooking the Hampshire cricket ground, we are off for some last minute shopping.  With Brexit requiring a change from “GB” to “UK” stickers on our number plates, the ones I had ordered as replacements in advance were found to be tiny and did not cover the existing ones!

In addition, my helmet of 9 years is looking the worse for wear and all the articles say they should be replaced every five years or so. I am pleased to report that both items were acquired and I am the owner of a new Shoei Neotec 2 in “red white and blue”, words from a Neil Young song.  The helmet will return with us to Australia where I have a similarly aged helmet awaiting replacement.  I did try a number of other brands but have returned to Shoei which has saved my head in the past.

Queuing to board the ship seems so familiar, wait in line, talk to other riders, move forward to the next stop.  Just like flying with Easyjet where you are shuffled from pillar to post before boarding.

Waiting to board for our next adventure

I was blissfully unaware of the obviously insidious problem of knife smuggling by motorcyclists from the UK to the continent. It seems that many motorcyclists, well the suspicious looking ones anyway, are pulled over and searched. Anne fell into that category,  I of course with my honest face was waived through the security checkpoint.  Anne had to translate for the other french rider pulled over with her.  The English security official kept saying “kawtoo”?  Anne suggested “couteau”, French for  knife, pronounced “kootaw”.  “Kawtoo”? repeated the official.  After a couple more attempts, us saying no,  both were asked to open one bag for a useless glance then were waived through.  Can anyone explain why what appear to be mostly middle aged men would be smuggling knives on motorcycles from the UK to Europe? Is there a shortage or high tax on knives?

I am first to board so we are off on another adventure. Hopefully my prose will improve with time like a good wine.

– Anthony

Mar 5 2023

The wildest ride of my life

Out for a lazy Friday lunch with friends on 27th January was abruptly cut short when I got a call saying my GP wanted to see me this afternoon following a scan that morning and I must make sure I come accompanied.  “Come accompanied”!!  That did not sound good.  That was just over a month ago but feels like a lifetime ago.  

I had not felt as fit or as strong as since we finished our first round the world trip.  I had been walking regularly, often twice a day, and had been volunteering with OzHarvest (a food rescue program) for the past few months, often collecting, and therefore lifting, over a ton of food in a day.  I was feeling super fit.  Yet something was happening in my stomach and had been for a while – stomach pains, some excruciating, bloating, heart burn.  Which I ignored as they came and went, putting it down to food, until I spent a night with chills, shivering, body shakes/rigours and 39.3 temperature.  I suspected Covid.  It wasn’t.  Two nights later it happened again.  I’d better see my GP – well, a friend told me to and I am glad I listened.

In the space of 3 weeks, from the time I first went to see a local GP for the first time, to my latest diagnosis, I went from being told the CT scans indicated I potentially had colon cancer to seeing the top surgeon of private hospital who explained that I most likely lymphoma and would need chemotherapy after surgery, to having the surgery including a laparotomy as he couldn’t find anything via the laparoscopy incisions, to being told by the surgeon that it turned out to be neither colon cancer nor lymphoma even though he could have put money on it, to seeing the surgeon again to discuss the next steps as he was determined to get to the bottom of my problems, to getting tests for pancreatic, thyroid or ovarian cancer and ultra sound on my ovaries and finally getting the current verdict:  it could be ovarian cancer but the blood markers are not very elevated so we are waiting another couple of weeks before redoing more detailed blood tests and having a colonoscopy and endoscopy and then in 2 months’ time redoing all the CT scans.  If the blood markers remain the same as the first ones, we’ll do nothing and wait for the CT scans in 2 months.  If they are elevated however, it will mean another op.  

Time to be wheeled to the operating theatre

Being wheeled from the operating theatre to my room

Those 3 weeks have been a hell of a rollercoaster.  Hearing “colon cancer” didn’t worry me – in fact, I turned to Anthony and said, “good, that’s a good one to have” knowing many people who have had it and recovered well.  Hearing lymphoma a few days later was a lot more worrying, especially seeing the CT scan and being shown what pointed to lymphoma – it looked like I was riddled with nasty lymph nodes.  Then there was incredible relief after the surgery that it wasn’t lymphoma. But when I was sent for tests for pancreatic cancer, my world was thrown completely upside down.  Not only was I still in a lot of pain from the open stomach surgery, I wondered whether I would soon be making that one way trip to Dignitas in Switzerland knowing the survival rate of pancreatic cancer was horrendous.  I decided I would fight to get over any of the other cancers, for us, but not pancreatic.  As soon as I found out it was not pancreatic, I suddenly felt I could breathe again.  It was the biggest relief ever.  I am much calmer now than I was 5 weeks ago.  

We are so incredibly lucky on so many levels. That we live where we do, that I found the most amazing local GP (my usual GP in the city was not available all week) and we can afford private health cover.  That the GP I saw acted immediately and referred me to the top surgeon at Greenslopes Private hospital.  That the surgeon’s receptionist called me 10’ after starting her day and receiving the referral to squeeze me in 3 days later to see the surgeon.  That this surgeon is not only a brilliant surgeon but a human human – no question was stupid or irrelevant, he took his time to re-explain what my shocked brain was trying to process.  And that we have caring family and friends that have provided us with wonderful support.  

I got so many flowers – these from my sister

I learned a lot about myself in this time, about how I deal with a personal crisis.  In short: not well.  I couldn’t talk to anybody.  Just the thought of the news I was given, what I would say and explain would make me cry.  I decided that I was not going to use “Doctor Google” until I had a confirmed diagnosis. It took all my effort to try and relax and breathe and not worry and not think.  Talking would require me to think about how I was feeling and it was not good.  I couldn’t face going through the whole explanations over and over so I drafted notes for Anthony to send. That way I said, ie wrote, it once only – that was hard enough.  The other reason was that I wanted Anthony to get support from my support network.  I have not wanted to hear the responses Anthony received after hearing a couple as they were too nice.  Many sent me messages understanding I wasn’t up to talking which was lovely.  But reading messages that I was strong and brave etc, while lovely, made me crumble.  I did not feel strong or brave at all.  I did not recognise myself in these statements.  And I felt I was a fraud because how could my friends think I was strong and brave when I did not feel that way at all?  I was a mess. But I did appreciate all the positive thoughts, prayers, healing vibes and virtual hugs we both got.  

Basically I was scared my life could be over soon and I was not ready.  I have not been blessed by having faith (but was grateful for all the prayers sent my way), have not come to terms with death (crazy I know) and still have so much I wanted to do.  And what about Anthony?!  How would he cope with whatever was coming next. That was too hard to think about.  So I’d retreat into my shell trying to process and block everything at the same time.  

In the old days, doctors would tell you to go home and get your affairs in order. That’s what I did in the few days before my surgery.  Finalised my company accounts and tidied my desk, got a new Will and Power of Attorney drawn up (couldn’t find the ones we did years and years ago), discussed life support and ashes again.  I was getting my affairs in order.

Since the operation, I have not done much!!  And Anthony has done absolutely everything, all the cooking, washing etc.  He has been amazing.  And always with his beaming smile, especially when he has created a new dish .  He has been making sure I don’t overdo things too.  I will not hide that the first few days after the surgery were extremely painful, hospital big knickers became my friend, but I am very happy to report that I have had near no pain in the past two days and am now walking 2kms twice a day (very slowly though).  Life is good.  

One of Anthony’s culinary creations

I cannot thank enough all those who communicated with me directly and patiently and lovingly, those who sent me messages saying they didn’t expect a response, and those who communicated with and called Anthony. It is moments like these that you realise or are reminded of what and who matters in your life.  And how important it is to make the most of life and your loved ones now.  There is only now. I am determined to make the most of the gift of now.

Tonight’s sunset in Manly

– Anne