France - Normandy
7.Day
02.9.2005 - Arromanche - Paris - St. Menehould
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We drive punctually around 9:00 from the yard, daddeln a piece the coast along, turn in the inland and drive before Caen on the motorway. Today we have approx.. 500 km before the chest, and I hear still so with an ear briefly vorm a driving off somewhat of: "short times to Paris purely, is on the way Rudi wants to a Harley dealer t-shirt buys. Is also completely close at the motorway ". I think still: "well, those were already times here, which know surely which it do".
We come to quick autobahn trip (so all 20 km a Mautstelle) into the proximity of Paris, the roads have instead of two three to five traces and all are gerammelt full suddenly. Then it goes on the famous notorious Peripherique, also well-known as the largest parking lot of north France. We drive by a tunnel. On this occasion the satellites for the Navi and the next exit say good-bye are ours, because it should be this eh (or perhaps nevertheless rather the next?) Which comes now can one describe only in such a way: "Dantes inferno is against it a good eight-history for small girls". Condemned this hell are condemned into of Paris car to be driven and those with the particularly large sins must to the punishment on motorcycles over the Peripherique race.
It was too early an exit and we lands at the end of a Gigastaus because of underground of a building and creates it still straight in time over a totally clogged crossing to evade somewhere where place to be seems, so that we do not remain being hopelessly in this back-up. The satellites are and pilot us also again there over these avoid-evade. From the announced 800 m distance of the motorway so some kilometers become. I admire with these Kurverei Peter with its Trike, which creates it again and again to hold or repair the connection at short notice to the group.
After a half hour we actually reach the Harley dealer owing to Navi, where itself Rudi and Hans then div. t-shirts at joy house prices to submit leave. After the Freaks to have then finally decided goes itself it on the shortest way back on the motorway and that is actually only about the promised 800 m long. Goes only there nix more.
If you believe, in addition you already saw and can everything also reasonablly to Mopped drive. Forget it! The true artists come from Paris. Between the outermost two traces boarded through the Verdamten of this hell on two wheels with highest travel between the cars and truck. The drivers know that obviously and leave lane between the vehicles. Only ignorant tourists contribute to the increase of the hell agonies of this condemned ones, by remaining fat and broad on your trace. It is everything on the way which one introduce itself in such a way can from the klapprigen scooter to the BMW C1 from the old Ratbike to the Supermoto. The uniform of the inhabitants of this two-wheeler hell are Jeans, t-Shirt and helmet. Protective clothing nil return. It would extend a suffering also only unnecessarily in an accident. The summit is a Supermoto driver, who instead of engine kreischendem with the horn also with 10.000 U/min and roaring bags on itself makes attentive. Yes, Loud of pipes save lives.
We let these mad ones drive and in addition advance all hope times fast. It is stifling hot and the oil thermometer of Hans ' Harley shows 260 degrees of Fahrenheit. I am gladly verduennisiert as itself the back-up slowly with increasing distance of the town center. I can now say I in Paris nevertheless was and the Eiffelturm saw, even if only from the distance.
Finally we can give gas on the less driven on duty motorways again. We are finished all something. Finally in the hotel to be arrived the Moppeds unloads and showered (the drivers! not the Moppeds!). Then the first beer hisses by the throat.
The
hotel is admits for its "Pied A cochon". Like one me insures, a large dish of full cooked pig feet. Me becomes badly with the thought and I do light heart without this culinary experience.
We began the evening also a few large beers and continued with a simple however koestlichen menu (Avocadocreme and/or Avocadopudding with crabs, filet Mignon of the pig, cream bruleé) the whole together with a koestlichen bottle Coté you Rhone. To the conclusion at the bar still another comparatively inexpensive Calvados.
A part of our troop ate however not in the restaurant, but in front in the bar. There there are quite tidy menus for the narrower purse at fair prices.
So strengthened one can sleep also in a windowless room unterm roof. That is really no joke: in the cover is a gitterkonstruktion á la left. Over it a solenoid operated Velux window is in one about 1.50 m deep pit. The room is because of the end of the course. "holy pc. Florian protects us" can one only proclaim there. Hopefully brennt's not.
After the usual Weissbrot/Croissant/Cafe outer lait breakfast saddles we the chickens (natural the Moppeds!), after we at the tresen divided the calculations apart. Ours t-shirt buyers has it nevertheless actually managed without round to get off! I say good-bye already before the departure of all, because I will turn soon after Verdun. Invitations are expressed and then go it off on the N3 Richting Verdun. On it I discharge briefly in a roundabout, sign myself briefly and bend an exit later than the others. Then I am again alone on the way direction Berlin. Scarcely 1000km non stop lie before me.
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