We actually managed to leave the seedy La Jonquera, at Group Leader Harriss's stipulated 9am ... or close to it. Quick fill up at the Shell and a sandwich for breakfast, and were on our way.
We headed out, quickly crossing the border, or at least the derelict shed that marked its whereabouts. It wasnt long before we hit our first gravel road, which was clearly closed to vehicles judging by the hugh boulders placed across the entrance. Harris squeezed through, but clearly forgot about the width of panniers on Thorpys's Triumph. After a bit of scraping, we were through, and the relativly short section took us to a long and winding tarred single track road through a national forest.
There was a little drama when Thopy gently dropped his bike while turning it around after a navigation faux pas.
Coffee was taken in a sports bar where some French lads had clearly been imbibing, and tried to engage Neil in conversation. It didnt get very far,
I spotted a Mickey Dees hoping I could talk Dave into a lunch stop, but instead we bashed 100km out on a toll road to finally arrive at a French seaside resort, where Thorpy had been some 26 years earlier. Yes it had changed of course. Food was expensive, at around 16 Euros for basic fish and chips, but I guess it is France.





