It was finally time to leave. We had to leave the UK—and our friends. The ferry to France was leaving in about three hours, and we were an hour from the port. We could see it from the hill at AAF, but seeing it and getting there were two different things.
The next day, we realized we had made a mistake. The best night of the whole week happened after the event. What a party we missed!
We got lost on the way to the port but finally saw a ferry sign and followed it in. The line was very long, and we were told to just stay at the back of the line.
That’s a new one.
Usually, motorcycles are ushered to the front. It’s just very difficult for a motorcycle to inch along in traffic. Most of the world knows this, except for the US. In the good old UnUnited States, you wait. Even lane splitting is mostly illegal, except in California.
But are they still really part of the US?
Anyway, after maybe 15 minutes, another lane opened up, and we were motioned to the front of that line. Us and the only other motorcycle getting on the ferry.
After a short wait, it was time to board. Our room wasn’t ready yet, so we made our way to the lounge and drank our own liquor. Better than a cruise ship!
A girl was singing, and we just relaxed for a while, thinking about how long it would be until we saw our friends again.
I’ve talked about this before. Travel gives you so many amazing things, but the friends part is a double-edged sword.
We love meeting people on the road and making friends. The other edge of the sword is leaving.
So many times, we wonder if we will ever pass this way again. Most times, we won’t. We are left with only fond memories.
It can become very lonely, even when we’re back home. You change too much and will never quite fit in again. Even with friends and family.
Sad, isn’t it?
Back to the boat.
We had a great night’s sleep, and in the morning, we rode off the ferry in Roscoff, France. Our 26th anniversary was coming up in a couple of days.
What do you do special when your life is already so special?
The first day, we just made some miles, riding through the wine country of the Loire Valley. We found a nice place in the quaint village of La Possonnière.
We were just up the street from an old church with a clock tower. The road led down a slight grade, under a railroad bridge and toward the Loire River. It was very peaceful and beautiful.
There was a young mother fishing with her two children. The boy was very intent on catching a fish, while the little girl, nothing more than a toddler, just wandered around exploring her world.
In the morning, we woke up and wished each other a happy 26th anniversary.
Wow. Twenty-six years.
Do I deserve this? Being married to Melanie and being this happy?
Probably not.
We had found a Gypsy wagon, Maison d’hôtes La Roulotte des 4 Saisons, to stay in for the next two nights.
Big spender, eh?
It was beautiful—very remote, and we were the only ones there. There was even a pool. It ended up being perfect, except for an air conditioner that didn’t quite work.
I ended up fixing that for them.
Every morning, we had coffee and a picnic basket of goodies delivered to our outdoor table beneath a beautiful tree, with views across the valley and black-and-white cows grazing in the distance.
Two lovely days passed far too quickly, and we set off once again toward Lyon.
But that’s for next time.
Cheers,
2WANDRRs
2WANDRRs 
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