France is closed on Sunday

We started out this morning in a hotel outside Grasse. Breakfast was an optional extra charged at £10 per croissant so the idea was treated with the contempt it deserved. Now i'm no fan of hotels and the tent and bags are packed and eager to be pressed into action but my regular internet searches show that it's about 2 or 3 euros less to camp and once breakfast is thrown in, which it usually is then we're out of pocket so we're hopping hotel rooms for now.
We left the hotel for fuel as the bike was thirsty and eager, well... thirsty at least. Today was something i have been waiting for, we were crossing into the Verdon region national park. We were only going as far as Manosque but frequent stops meant it was an all day business. Within minutes we were seeing ADV style bikes everywhere, all mint and shiny spending more time polished than in dirt. Shame but that's life. nice to see them anyway and we saw a lot. Within 10 minutes we found out why.
We climbed onto some mountain roads and just kept climbing and climbing. I have an aversion to heights and a slight dislike of death so my nervousness was piqued slightly. My sat nav has an altitude meter but the road signs warned of 800 metres, then 1000 and so on. We looked back and just had to stop for pictures. The scenery was simply breathtaking and the scale simply can't be captured on camera. Every second we didn't stop was a wasted photo opportunity and the scenery just got better and better. We were literally up with the clouds today and every picture looked like a postcard. This area had hairpin bends on every stretch and some caught us off guard but generally it was just simply the best riding so far. I'll add some pictures but they simply don't do this area any kind of justice. This experience has to be experienced, it can't be viewed or captured or described or imagined. There is simply nothing like being immersed in a gigantic, ferociously austere ballet of natural elegance and to feel truly that you, as a human are a part of something so vast, so old and so big.
We powered through villages at the best pace we dared. We had to stop once to let my partner put on her waterproofs but the few drops of rain quickly passed and we never really had anything more than a few drops of warning. As we went deeper the villages fell away leaving little more than a few ramshackle dwellings dotted around inhabited by brave souls who can survive without any human contact. The buildings that there were gave the impression of a person pouring too much salt on a meal and some simply spills across the table, a few random grains dotted about before they're wiped away.
We made our way through this stunning area towards a village, Castellmaine where we stopped for a largely unsatisfying lunch surrounded by all manner of motorcycles. Nobody seemed interested in talking but at least the French riders take the time to wave. Mine attracted some interest, I presume because it's heavily modified and dirty. My partner looked at some shoes in town today and asked how French people can afford to live. I guess that's an interesting question, this place is insanely expensive, even compared to London. I guess what you don't see through shop windows is the taxation, wages and rental costs which paint more of a rounded picture. Obviously they have more disposable income so the shop prices reflect it. I guess this is why there are so many brand new bikes on the road and people scoff at mine, a 4 year old machine built by my own hand.
We explored a bit but were both keen to travel on. As soon as we left we started ascending again, more mountain passes and they grew increasingly dangerous. No pretense at side barriers, just a sheer drop to certain death. One mistake and you were a dozen different kinds of dead. I think this fact was realised by my passenger who behaved herself well today. Some of the lanes were just so narrow that we couldn't stop and these were ones with the most amazing views.
The road signs let us down by GPS stepped up to let us know we were on the wrong lane. We've reached an understanding now and it's a useful tool if not as useful as advertised.
We finally found signs to Manosque and I just powered on at a decent speed. The scenery was thinning out now as we approached the only major town in the park. What would have been stunning anywhere else now looked bland and we were both tired.
I'm not sleeping. I have carpal tunnel syndrome, an incredibly minor ailment which has flaired up painfully. Not to bore you with details it means I need to leave caffeine and alcohol alone and drink plenty of water. I don't do that and it's usually fine but with the added stress, exertion, exhaustion and everything else it's started up in both hands. Two ibuprofen sorted it right out for now.
We found Manosque fairly easily after some hassle with no road signs and what road signs there were matching neither my map or google maps.
We got sent in the wrong direction to the hotel but found it eventually after the usual hassles.
Interestingly it wasn't a hotel but a sports centre with accomodation. It looks more like a hospital but full of children who smoke. The bike is safe and I have a bed and frankly that's all I give a shit about right now.
We went back into town for a meal. My god, everything was closed so we ended up at a little bar. She ordered what she thinks was fish and I battled my poor french and the waitresses poor english and ended up with some pasta. It was the best pasta ever! We tried each other's food (apart from the fish, I'm a vegetarian) and everything was amazingly good.
It was also great to get out on the bike without the luggage. She felt more like her old self.
Tomorrow we've decided to make a long haul trip to Barcelona a day early. My bum is going to drop off with the saddle sore and she's starting to feel it too. We were going to do the trip over two days but we;ve decided to suck it down and get most of the way there in one so we have two days off the bike to recover.
It will be a boring run but we need a few days off to stretch it out...