JUST CALL ME WOODY

Rick and I have been on the road for 2 weeks now. I got a haircut in Scotland and look presentable. But Rick has been telling people he is from Nebraska and is trying out the Bruce Dern look.  In fact, he did not shave for about 10 days to give that grungy Montana look to him.  Rick thinks that if people think he is actually Bruce Dern and is from Nebraska they will give us free stuff and treat us like celebrities. So far that has not worked.

 

I have decided that the name of Ricks machine is “Woody”. It is a classic 2001 Honda Silver Wing 600 that keeps loosing parts. Rick wanted to borrow more of my duct tape to hold the fairing together in England, but I told him to just take the part off. So now he is riding around with a couple chunks of plastic tied on to his saddle.

 

Saturday through Tuesday we pretty lousy for weather. But Wales has some fun and beautiful roads. The only option was to suck it up and keep going.  The rivers in Wales were full to brimming over. It reminded me of the Rio Bamba in Ecuador where Marty and I slogged our way through for a week. But Wales was great and the prices were better than anywhere else in Brittan. 

By Tuesday the weather had cleared a bit and our ferry left at 10 pm or thereabouts. So we did the tourist thing and went to Avebury Circle instead of Stonehenge for two reasons (a) Stonehenge is not accessable and it is an expensive excursion and (b) I have been to Carhenge and know what old stuff piled on old stuff looks like. Avebury is 10 times larger than Stonehenge and you can walk up to the stones and survey it all. Rick was especially impressed with one stone. But I cannot reckon why.

 

So we later went to Portsmouth for the ferry. I love the ferry because it makes me feel like I am on a real adventure. The bad news was that they ferry guys wanted me to put my bike on the center stand. So I pulled my back again doing it. I have resolved to go to Lourdes for the treatment of my aching back.

 

 

 

 

 

We got off the ferry in Caen, France. We went to Bayeux for breakfast and then on to Omaha Beach. We took the small one lane back roads. I now understand the confusion and fear that must have gripped the troops when they tried to figure out where they were. And I really understand how exposed to fire the assault troops were on the beach. We were there at high tide, and it would have been a long way to cover.

 

So then we had a good French lunch. The food is superb here. Expensive but great.

 

Tomorrow is Spain. More later.