France had made me very welcome. The people and the weather had been kind to me, both of which had helped the process of adapting to a long period on the road. I was immensely grateful. Those early days, sat in the leafy shade back at Etables-sur-Mer, seemed like a long time ago now. I’d decided to return there on my homeward journey, retracing those first tentative steps.
The gentle hills of Brittany, its sheltered bays and estuaries, had eventually given way to open plains south of Paris. Just the occasional fertile river valley cutting deep into an otherwise uninteresting landscape. East of Troyes a return to more rolling countryside, then, beyond Epinal, into tree clad mountains.
It had not been without its challenges, but I’d always expected that. Inevitable teething troubles. Sadly, my French was little improved but I’d always stuck with it, sometimes to the frustration of others. I’d do the same with German, and that really was a foreign language to me. Now much fitter and stronger on the bike, I was ready for Germany and the Danube.
La France. Merci beaucoup.
Au revoir!
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