It was all very peaceful and relaxing, all the time the Dordogne River flowed majestically past. The trees camouflaged the habitat of orchids and other rare plants. The village was soon behind me as I passed fields of apple trees, ruined riverside shacks and abandoned boats. I walked out of the campsite, and on a whim, followed the riverside path. I made tracks east and by teatime I was camped on a busy site alongside the Dordogne River. It was getting hotter time, I decided, to find some water to sit by.
I parked the bike and wandered leisurely around the city, eating as I went. I was impressed by Bordeaux and its terraces of light-coloured, regal buildings bathed in sunshine.
After a couple of hours, the sky lightened, and the sun came out. Every kind of transport was piling down that motorway, but I was happy to keep my distance from the other traffic, crouched behind the big fairing on my old Kawasaki GTR, listening to the engine’s gentle roar. The next day, I hit the motorway to Bordeaux in heavy rain. ‘The camping will have to start tomorrow,’ I thought. I had no choice but to look for a budget hotel. Then came the thunder and a heaving downpour. The road was busy with holiday traffic, and as I rode, the sky darkened, and lightning flashed. Dennis Mays takes the ferry to France for a laidback short break in the DordogneĪfter leaving the ferry under sunny skies, I headed for the first little town on my map and a coffee, before hitting the N12 towards Rennes.
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