We met on an overcast and cold spring evening with a buzz of excitement for the forthcoming trip. The hooligans in the party bearing throw over soft luggage only, did a quick stop over at B&Q to buy padlocks to deter the less industrious thief! Meanwhile the two Triumphs in the party twittered and chirruped to each other in a way that was going to become oh so familiar had we but known it!

Departing St Austell and collecting Pete on route we arrived in thick mizzle well in time for the ferry. We were puzzled at the check in lady's suggestion that we stick our boarding cards to our visors with spare GB stickers . what did she know that we didn't about the goings on in the big black shed that we negotiated some long and damp hour later.

On to the Ferry and the crew threw themselves into lashing the bikes to the deck heedless of the fact that we'd not yet got off them! That said though the crew were very competent and we all felt safe to go off and leave our babies for the night crossing. We assembled some ½ hour later in the bar and begin to have some insight into the depth of the panniers on yer average Pan, when 4 of us turned up in part leathers and some with less embarrassing braces and Pete is immaculately turned out in pressed trousers smoking jacket and cravat (well nearly), .what does TARDIS mean?

Day one dawned grey and having disembarked we wound our way, on the right side of the road, to Morlaix for breakfast via a small diversion to find free parking and follow a most beautifully scented lady (eyes front Nathan!). In 5 days we never twigged that to park a bike in France is a matter of turning off the engine and putting it in its stand! Anywhere! From Morlaix we took a choice of unarranged and divergent routes to Carhaix riding through torrents of rain and thick fog. We all met up again outside the Champion supermarket and as we were now standing in 4 inches of water bought a picnic lunch!!

Suffice to say the rain cleared and an hour later we managed lunch in a pretty picnic area on the Nantes Brest Canal.

Rennes, for the uninitiated is a sizeable city, it has its own periferique and endless identical roads; but a combination of, the unmanly asking directions, Nathan's confident French and Rogers inbuilt ability to find his bed, put us into our first overnight stop with out too much trouble. The Automat at the hotel said "NON" to Mark's credit card and so we sat in a warm and muggy car park until "le patron" arrived for work. and did continued impersonation of "le motards anglaise" up and down the corridors.so that where they got the "crazy frog" idea from !!!!!

Day two was a good mixture of D and N roads some of which had a car or two on them! Lunch brought us the delights of Mergueze (a long thin spicy sausage) and frites and another glimpse of French hospitality when le patron, of the road side stall, brought extra sausages for his "English friends". Lunch done we sped away to Le Mans and the museum de Circuit des 24 Heures de Mans

Again Roger the uncanny human GPS found us the hotel in central Le Mans where after a sumptuous brassiere meal (Pete in bow tie and tails this time. one could be lost for days in a Pan's luggage) we were eventually lulled to sleep by the local Motards screaming about in what seemed to be permanent 2 nd gear.

Day 3 to Tours and down the Loire to Nantes, today we all manage to stay together, all day! even if we did circum-circum navigate some roundabouts to the point that all 5 bikes were on the same one at the same time. This day tested the Sports bikes against the Tourers. I mean who'd want to ride 250 miles between fuel stops! It really is good to get off stretch yer leg and shake hands with old friend.. And still need the Daytona surgically removed at the end of the day, but ooh that soothing balm.!