After 3000 kilometres, 386 baguettes, 51 days, 26 départements, 5 separate crossings of the mighty Rhone, 2 punctures and a handful of wild rants at careless drivers, France - you great temptress - it is time to say goodbye.
Forget Switzerland - that was a reckless fling. Meant nothing, all in the past, honest!
France... most visited country on Earth, birthplace of the nonchalant shrug, home of short politicians and more classy vistas than you could waggle a legless frog at.
From your unpromising Channel ports lulling visitors into a false sense of indifference, to the sublime dotting of forests and chateaux along the Loire; from the stunning volcanoes and tasty springs of the Auvergne to the spirit-testing cols of the Alps; from the sun-baked Provencal hinterland to the kilometre-high Gorges du Verdon; from the wild horses, pink flamingoes and salt mountains of the surreally-flat Camargue, to the splendour of the Pyrenees and the winsome, winding cliff-top roads leading to the Spanish border... France, you have teased and tempted us with your shapely curves and come-hither looks.
From the friendly locals' bonjours to the encouraging toots of passing lorries; from the whipping Charlie received at crazy golf to his recovery of some kind of form at mini boules; from the many examples of kindness from friends and strangers alike to the arrival on tour of the Armenian bullet; from the surprise tour call-up of David Bellamy to accepting that my upright riding style looks like the old guy on the moped who leads out cyclists in the velodrome... France, it almost brings a tear to the eye to see the back of you. Although, what a back it is.
We'll miss you, France.
Sent lovingly (albeit slightly unfaithfully) from Spain...
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