It rained on the Thursday night in what sounded like, to judge by the noise of the rain falling on the van, biblical proportions. I laid in pROJECT mAYHEM and was feeling rather grateful that I was not in a tent with just a thin piece of canvas over my head for protection but those thoughts of gratitude were rudely dispelled at 5.40AM when le grand ventre knocked on the door to run him to the station. It was hard not to think that pROJECT mAYHEM was giving with one hand and taking with the other at the time.
Thankfully one of us had had the presence of mind the night before to make sure le grand ventre had all his stuff together necessary to catch his ridiculously early flight from the airport. Probably just as well as it was still bucketing it down and the thought of le grand ventre wandering aimlessly about while he got his shizzle together at 5.40AM would have given a saint murderous thoughts so quite what it would have done to me is not worth thinking about. Anyway we got him loaded up and drove to the camp-site exit only to find that it was locked as was the entrance as well - bugger! Le grand ventre put a brave face on it and duly walked to the station - something I tried very hard to feel guilty about while I reversed the van back the 200 yards it had come and went back to sleep again. I failed.
Upon rising later in the day the weather was looking slightly better - grey and still the odd shower here and there but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier so there was the possibility of getting something done. Plans were hatched amid much laughter at le grand ventre's bad luck and it was decided to go to the big Carrefour to buy cheese, wine and the like before heading out to find dry rock.
An hour or two later the van was full of wine, random French sausage and stinky cheese and so we set off to 95.2 to have a very enjoyable lunch in the sunshine and then it promptly rained. The next couple of hours were spent driving around the forest and being pursued by rain, where ever we went the rain followed, it was as if we had an enormous rain-cloud magnet attached to the van.
Eventually we gave it up and went to have a coffee in Milly-la-Foret and followed that up with a beer to make ourselves feel better when it rained yet again. While having our consolation beer we got a tip off from Neil at Maisonbleau that there was dry rock at yet another location so it was back into the van and off we went again. You don't really need me to tell you that as soon as we got there it rained do you? Well it did.
It was at that point where we gave up - back to the camp-site to disassemble le grand ventre's tent (not only an onerous task but a rather odourful one too it has to be said) and then wish Dear Boy a bon voyage as he set off back to the sunnier climes of Italy.
Saturday was "get off the beach day" and with coffee made and camp broken the last task remaining before setting off back to the UK was drop the Broken Beagle off at a crag near Milly-la-Foret. From there the long drag home started which was a lot less eventful than the trip down thankfully, the exception being getting off the A6 but compared to the drive down it was a walk in the park.
And so, twelve odd hours after abandoning Broken Beagle, I was back Sheffield just in time to sit down on the sofa with a much needed beer in hand to watch Arsenal getting beaten on Match of the Day. A perfect combination to reflect on an awesome trip over six hectic days with close to 1200 miles of driving and ask myself if I would do it all again? Damn right I would - Font rocks and I still haven't done 6a there yet!
When can we go?
Thankfully one of us had had the presence of mind the night before to make sure le grand ventre had all his stuff together necessary to catch his ridiculously early flight from the airport. Probably just as well as it was still bucketing it down and the thought of le grand ventre wandering aimlessly about while he got his shizzle together at 5.40AM would have given a saint murderous thoughts so quite what it would have done to me is not worth thinking about. Anyway we got him loaded up and drove to the camp-site exit only to find that it was locked as was the entrance as well - bugger! Le grand ventre put a brave face on it and duly walked to the station - something I tried very hard to feel guilty about while I reversed the van back the 200 yards it had come and went back to sleep again. I failed.
Upon rising later in the day the weather was looking slightly better - grey and still the odd shower here and there but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier so there was the possibility of getting something done. Plans were hatched amid much laughter at le grand ventre's bad luck and it was decided to go to the big Carrefour to buy cheese, wine and the like before heading out to find dry rock.
An hour or two later the van was full of wine, random French sausage and stinky cheese and so we set off to 95.2 to have a very enjoyable lunch in the sunshine and then it promptly rained. The next couple of hours were spent driving around the forest and being pursued by rain, where ever we went the rain followed, it was as if we had an enormous rain-cloud magnet attached to the van.
Eventually we gave it up and went to have a coffee in Milly-la-Foret and followed that up with a beer to make ourselves feel better when it rained yet again. While having our consolation beer we got a tip off from Neil at Maisonbleau that there was dry rock at yet another location so it was back into the van and off we went again. You don't really need me to tell you that as soon as we got there it rained do you? Well it did.
It was at that point where we gave up - back to the camp-site to disassemble le grand ventre's tent (not only an onerous task but a rather odourful one too it has to be said) and then wish Dear Boy a bon voyage as he set off back to the sunnier climes of Italy.
Saturday was "get off the beach day" and with coffee made and camp broken the last task remaining before setting off back to the UK was drop the Broken Beagle off at a crag near Milly-la-Foret. From there the long drag home started which was a lot less eventful than the trip down thankfully, the exception being getting off the A6 but compared to the drive down it was a walk in the park.
And so, twelve odd hours after abandoning Broken Beagle, I was back Sheffield just in time to sit down on the sofa with a much needed beer in hand to watch Arsenal getting beaten on Match of the Day. A perfect combination to reflect on an awesome trip over six hectic days with close to 1200 miles of driving and ask myself if I would do it all again? Damn right I would - Font rocks and I still haven't done 6a there yet!
When can we go?
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