Another summer holiday to remember, courtesy of the GLME

The Portsmouth-Le Havre ferry is always a good option if you're heading for the western side of France. There's all the excitement of boarding late at night, then a good few hours' kip before waking up to disembark with a whole glorious first day in France in front of you. Well, that's how it usually works - but I have to say on this occasion our spirits were slightly dampened when we emerged from the ferry in Le Havre in a torrential downpour. Fortunately we had gone out on the deck briefly on the way in and so we knew to put on the wet-weather gear before climbing on our bikes, but this was the kind of rain that you knew would eventually get through if it kept on for hours while we were on the road.

Crossing the Pont de Normandie is normally great because of the dizzy height of the bridge and the fantastic view - but on this morning it was shrouded in a damp cloud, with nothing to be seen but pelting rain. This wasn't looking like a good start to the holiday! But as we continued southwards, the rain eased off.

By the time we pulled up in Vimoutiers for coffee and croissants at a little cafe on the town square, it had stopped and the cloud started to lift. We didn't know it then, but that was the only rain some of us were going to see for the whole week. Much heartened, we continued along pleasant back roads all the way to Nantes - nice twisty bits, hardly any traffic, ah, some of the reasons we come to France!

After a hugely enjoyable overnight stop in Nantes, we continued South to the sunny Dordogne, a little bit of autoroute to eat up some of the miles, and then some great D roads all the way to Perigeux. Getting through the regional capital with its roadworks and traffic was a bit trying, but the last part of our journey on the fast, sweeping bends of the D730 down to Le Bugue was just brilliant. From there it was the short, twisty route to the chateau near Limeuil, where we arrived to receive a warm welcome from our AMA hosts.

We had fairly comfy, gite-style accommodation, although, with 160 bikers attending, our numbers were dispersed around three locations. This could have been a bit of a drawback as inevitably it meant some people ended up a fair way away from the dining hall, or from the swimming pool, etc. But as it turned out I would say it was fine, as many of us enjoyed the walk in the countryside and resisted using the shuttlebus put at our disposal.

The week that followed was a wonderful one, in the finest tradition of GLME Summer Camps. Our friendly hosts laid on some excellent runs, good food (as long as you didn't mind ducks' gizzards), wine and a good deal of fun. As in Italy the year before, the evening of chatting over aperitifs followed by a lengthy meal was the main entertainment. But it was very good for all that. Some nights there was a bit of a disco in the dining hall, with party animals on the dancefloor, but most people congregated outside the bar in the cool night air.

For those of us with a mile to walk back the chateau along a dark road, the evening's merriment sometimes descended into farce, what with the hazardous business of trying to avoid stumbling into the ditch every time a car passed. On one occasion the people in the passing car were faced with the unedifying spectacle, illuminated in the blaze of their lights, of someone on their back in the ditch with their legs in the air, while someone else straddled the ditch with every apparent intention of failing in as well, and a couple of others rolling around laughing in the background. I will discreetly avoid naming any names.

On the same dark road, it was rumoured that something sinister was going on at the 11th Century church on the knoll just beyond the turn off to the chateau. One of our number swore that he had heard strange, heavy breathing and hissing in the vicinity of the tower. I proposed that we should all don white bedsheets, take some candles and go and investigate. This suggestion came close to fruition in the heady aftermath of an evening's food and drink, but before I actually got as far as stripping the sheets off the bed, the sobering thought occurred to me that the people of Limeuil might be slightly alarmed at the sight of hooded figures in white stumbling about in their churchyard with candies in the middle of the night and the local gendarmes might take a dim view of it all.

So we wimped out (must be getting old). And anyway, as someone said rather authoritatively, the noise from the church tower was typical of a certain sort of owl...

In daylight, the Dordogne region is just beautiful. With runs in all directions, we had an excellent opportunity over the week to see a good to deal of it, taking in great castles, chateaus, gardens and wine estates, charming little towns and villages, and broad sweeps of landscape with wooded hills and meandering rivers. It has to be said that the roads, while scenic, were not always the best for biking bumpy and gravelly surfaces were the order of the day on many of the country lanes we rode. But when you did get onto a good D road with a good surface, it was ace. I think fondly, for example, of blasts along the D709 between Mussidan and Bergerac, and the D29 between Le Buisson and Lalinde. However, some of the best biking roads seemed to be outside the Dordogne valley South around Gourdon and down to the Lot valley, east towards Gramat, and north around Brantome. These provided some cracking runs, combined with visits to interesting places, not to mention a few good lunches.

All of this shines in memory and there's too much to try to cover it all here. But I will mention a few highlights:

St Emilion; delightful place, affluent and so perhaps a little pricey, but the view from the higher part of town was not to be missed and lunch was great, sitting at a table under an umbrella in the square next to the old church.

Bergerac; similarly good, with a pleasant lunch at a spot overlooking the river.

Brantome; another charming old town with an interesting history (a randy young abbot in particular), a slightly expensive lunch, but worth it for the setting, under an umbrella on the riverbank, with entertainment provided by passing ducks and tourists in canoes.

Rocamadour; fantastic place with extraordinary views. For centuries, pilgrims have dragged themselves up from below to pay homage at the shrine of St Amadour and the icon of the black madonna in the chapels under the cliffs, but we took the easy way in from above and, being 21st Century gay boys, we didn't experience the same emotional and spiritual impact. Nice lunch in the town below though (bit of a theme here, isn't it), enlivened by the regular tooting of the tourists' petit train as it trundled past.

St Cirq Lapopie; more spectacular views at this lovely spot above the Lot river. It's a bit of a tourist trap, but we still managed to obtain a reasonable lunch. The ride out of the village afterwards on the back road clinging to the cliffside was fun too.

In addition, on the traditional mid week day off from bike riding, canoeing on the river was a popular choice among the gay bikers. Cue scenes of anarchy and disarray as dozens of clueless canoeists took to the river. But it was a hot, sunny day, and things soon settled down to a more lazy pace, although the paddling itself was hard work. Some of us were sensible enough to do the canoeing in the morning and then go off for a leisurely lunch, but some more hardy souls who had packed their sandwiches went paddling for most of the day.

A small group of us went for lunch at Au Bon Accueil, at the top of the hill in Limeuil haut, just up from the delightful Atelier de la Forge, where the blacksmith, stripped off to the waist, often won an admiring audience of gay bikers.
Lunch was excellent, the best of the whole trip, the food was delicious, the service attentive and, seeing as we weren't on the bikes, for once we could enjoy the wine as well. After such a triumph, our Tim had no hesitation in telling madame: "Nous sommes replus!" i.e. replete. She was well impressed.

It has to be said Tim's other great moment in using his French came at a subsequent evening meal, after our hardworking and rather harassed waitress delivered just five cheeses to the table instead of six. He hailed her loudly, squealing: "Madame! Quelle catastrophe!" Poor dear, she hastened back to our table to find out what the problem was. She must have been relieved to find it was only a missing plate. But a passing French lesbian who had overheard the whole thing looked down at us, tutted and said (rather sniffily, I thought): "Ce n'est pas grave."

On the Thursday, some of the GBMCC crowd went North to see former club secretary Brian near Limoges, where he runs a bar and gites. More would have gone to visit him, but some of us looked at the weather forecast and realised there was a band of rain heading that way. The better weather was to the South, and so we went in that direction instead (sorry, Brian!).

We had an excellent run down to the Lot valley and back, and stayed dry all the way, whereas (not wishing to be smug) everybody else who went off in other directions got rained on. Nevertheless, those who visited Brian found him fine and as well as can be. He was pleased to have visitors, so please remember to look him up if you're down his way.

All too soon, our week with the GLME crowd was at an end. After a good evening gathered at the chateau for the group photo and then drinks, our last dinner on the Friday night was good fun ending with fireworks on the dessert and a striptease by one of the bikers, a fancy dancer who was never much one for keeping his clothes on!

After saying goodbye to friends old and new from all over Europe, it was time to depart on Saturday morning for home. Some of us stopped in Paris on the way but that's another story.

Thanks to AMA for laying on a great event. Here's to Summer Camp 2006 in Switzerland

Ed

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