The following morning dawned bright and sunny and above all dry, the forecast had been right 🙂

While we were loading the bikes I fussed a young cat who was hanging around probably hoping to score some ‘Rich in Rabbit’. She then continuously either demanded our attention or insisted on investigating each item as we packed it. She finally settled down on Sarah’s tank bag tucked down behind the screen looking as though she was going to travel with us when we left. However she hadn’t counted on the noise of the bikes and legged it as soon as we started up.

We used the motorway as the easiest way of getting away from the conurbation that is Montpellier and then happily switched to normal roads followed by the far more enjoyable small roads through the hills towards Carcassonne.

In the middle of the countryside on the road to Moureze we came across a small French war memorial to The Maquis Bir Hakeim who were a group of French resistance fighters in the Second World War. The monument was erected in 1984 in memory of 105 martyrs of the underground. The monument was surrounded by immaculately kept war graves. We stopped and spent a few minutes paying our respects to people who had died whilst fighting for their country. It was an amazingly peaceful place particularly when you consider how those people had died.

We continued through Moureze, which was a beautiful old village with interesting rock formations, and stopped for a coffee in another picturesque village further on.

We then rode on into the hills and didn’t see another vehicle for ages. Imagine our surprise when, having stopped to admire and photograph a stunning view, a French Peugeot pulled up behind us and the elderly couple began asking us for directions. They had got lost, but having Mip and a map we were able to show them exactly where they were.

I haven’t asked for it, but I cannot ignore the fact that there is a bit of a theme regarding my interactions with various forms of insect life on this trip and today was not going to be an exception.

We were doing about 50 mph and were miles from any habitation when I decided to have a bit of a stretch to loosen up as we rode along. As I extended my left arm, Thwack, something hit my left hand with some force. My first thought was that a stone had been thrown up by Sarah’s rear tyre but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I turned my head to look at my left hand and was greeted by the sight of a bloody great big two inch long hornet holding tight onto my left thumb.

So that you can fully appreciate how much I enjoyed this sight I think that it’s important for me to explain that I do not like wasps and they do not like me. When we had been at Le Moto Camping Dordogne I had been quietly sitting reading when one had just flown up and stung me on my arm. I react quite badly to their stings and it was over two weeks before it had settled down. So it’s fair to say that I was not best pleased and had no intention of finding out just how much worse I react to hornet stings. The hornet had other ideas though, and far from being stunned or even squashed by it’s 50 mph impact with my hand, it was doing it’s damnedest to sting me through my my thin summer glove. Thankfully it was on the top of my thumb where there is kevlar and plastic armour so it wasn’t having much luck.

I immediately began frantically shaking my left hand about to dislodge it but to no avail, it just seemed to make it angrier. This was obviously having an interesting effect on my riding as Sarah had noticed my erratic riding and was wondering what was wrong. In the end I managed to knock the bugger off my thumb by hitting it against my hand protector. I have to say that hornets are definitely wasps with attitude. Bearing that in mind, I did stop and get Sarah to check my clothing to make sure that it hadn’t grabbed on elsewhere for round two.

We rode on along the D908 into a more populated region and saw a biker bar with a lifesize model of the Blues Brothers car on the balcony. We would have loved to have stopped and partied there but it was too early and there was no-one about so we decided to press on.

We did see a sign for a Municipal Camping site that made us smile.

We eventually stopped at a small Chambre d’hote (Bed and Breakfast) called La Cerisaie in the village of Riols. It was a beautiful old house owned and run by a Dutch couple who were very friendly and opened up their kids games room so that we would have somewhere secure to put the bikes for the night without having to unload everything from them.

Having settled in we wandered off for something to eat. After the days experiences I declined the delights of the premises with the painting of a giant insect on the outside wall and we had a delicious meal at a tiny restaurant on the road through the village.

After returning to Le Cerisaie we chatted with the owner’s brother, who was looking after the place and the children whilst the owner and his wife went out for a meal together, and who had laid on a surprise welcome for them. We left them to it, went to bed, and slept like logs!

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