PART 4, Off to Millau.

Le Puy is a sight to behold, you come down from the hills after some amazing roads and scenery, to a town/city nestled between some large mountain/hills, there are huge statues laid out before you on ancient stone columns left by natures ravages, think Gibraltar on a smaller scale. Beautiful place. We stop for cafe and a break of course. After breathing in the atmosphere we head out find camping, only to end up on the best roads we've found so far, a sinuous snake of perfect tarmac that heads up into the hills once more.... I can't resist and break formation to tear it up. Jimmy soon tags along and the two of us drop into the zone and let loose. This is why we came here and we're taking full advantage. The other two aren't as experienced as us two so we soon leave them behind. They're happy at their own pace, but me n Jimmy have been riding together eight years now so we can stick closely and enjoy the dual sounds and spectacle of two bikes flowing between bends, blipping downchanges, squirming rear tyres, the sizzle of brake discs. I love it. All too soon its over and we settle back to let the other lads close the gap, now we're on the top of the hills, its chilly but we don't care, cruising along in formation again we're drinking in the sights, wondering what we'll have for dinner tonight, and longing for the hot shower the campsite offers.

[Camping_LePuy]

The site is basic but welcoming as are most French campsites, we clean up then wander over the road to a quaint bistro pointed out to us by the site owner. Its clearly a local place, but they serve great food and are amused by our appaling French, so all is good. Its nice to get some decent food down us actually, all too often we were pre-occupied with making progress or enjoying the roads that we forget to stop and eat. Most lunches are shop bought baguette, cheeses, saucisson, jambon etc...something I'm quite happy to do as it happens, it reminds me of the old family hols again. Plus French food feels a lot fresher than the stuff back home.

A new day, we're heading from Le Puy to Mende and then to a route we'd seen on a biking website, we added this to the intinerary early on and are very glad we did. We climbed into hills again, typical greenery swathing the hills, little villages dotted about, lost in time with the craggy old man watching the world pass by. Eventually the roads open out into large, fast, sweepers, my bike is really starting to come into its own now, the upright position, lunging midrange and stable handling meaning I can surge up straights, roll into bends and just power out the other side, stringing bends together in a seemingly endless flow, as we get over the top of one area it drops down and follows the side of the valley down to Florac. That final section (must have been near twenty miles actually) will stick with me forever, no real straights, winding, sinous tarmac in perfect condition beckoning me on at each turn, we get zoned in again, forgetting the huge drops and craggy sides, stringing everything together, the bike lapping it up despite being fairly heavily laden with my gear, brakes never fading despite the sizzling, exhaust taking on a growly nature probably due to getting really quite warm and me using more throttle than of late. Biking nirvana in short. We eventually roll down to the valley floor, and another fuel stop for the thirsty ZX12R (its got 170+ hp but drinks through its tank in 110 miles at best!). We are all chattering like kids in a sweetshop, clearly the past hour has stuck with us all, someone even mentioned turning round and going back up but time waits for no man and we press on to the next stop.

[HavingABreak]

[RoadNirvana]

[Views]

[Views2]

[Views3]

[Cafestop_view]

[Quaint]

[Cafe]

We arrive at Millau town later that day, tired but very happy we made the effort in getting south so soon, clearly this is the type of thing we wanted from the latter half of this holiday, and the mood is good. Camped by the river, cleaned and refreshed, we wander into town in search of food and a well earned drink. Sat supping a demi bier a scruffy biker type pops his head out the bar entrance and in rough Brummie introduces himself. "Bott" came over 16years ago and has lived here ever since, working as a bodyfitter. His time in France has nearly ruined his grasp of English but we all have a good chat, bikes and good roads are a common theme wherever you come from it seems. He directs us to his favourite eating hole, a little burger shop in town, we get a great steak sandwich and some "vin de maison" (if you don't ask for it, you get the expensive stuff of course) and settle down to watch the nightlife, which is predominantly youths on scooters and the odd boyracer cruising the town as it turns out. No matter, for tomorrow we are ticking the bridge off the list.

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