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By *heWolf OP Man
over a year ago
warwickshire |
I know there's another thread, but because I tend to bang on, I'll not hijack that one.
So, time for my semi-regular little jaunt to the Continent, no real plan, no real schedule, looking for ideas/friends/stop-offs/safe houses/kinks/drinks etc etc.
Although I have no firm idea of where I'm going, I think I'm going to try the Atlantic side and head South. I've done the other side a few times, looking for something new, I think.
As a single bloke, the draw of THAT place down near Beziers is hard to ignore, but I'm not going to thrash down the Autoroute to join the Meerkats in a matter of hours. Doesn't matter how many times I come away from there swearing to never go as a single guy again, it always seems to call me back. (It's like being one of those Victorian street waifs in a Dickens scene, gazing in through a frost-covered window, drooling at the fancy cakes on display, almost able to taste it... Why do I do it? Answers on a post-card please, but if it has a pert sand-covered bottom on it and the words "Another shitty day in Paradise" on the front, I will hunt you down...)
Ahem, anyway, I'm not on a two-week "Monsters of Cock" tour where I zoom in, throw around a load of DNA and zoom off to the next stop, I'll be meandering South to the sunshine and it'll take as long as it takes.
So, were I to trundle off the ferry in Cherbourg in a couple of weeks, any recommendations? I don't particularly enjoy staring at other men's spotty arses as they pile onto whatever is happening, so perhaps "the road less travelled"? I'd love to find that place where single men are like hen's teeth and prized like gold nuggets, but if I suddenly find it, I'll know I've probably dozed off whilst on a long straight road.
I'm a realist, not a horny young pup who wants to put his winky in anyone who meets their eye for 3 seconds. I'm more like 3 minutes, at the very least, and upon receipt of a written invitation, so slow on the uptake I am.
Um, Ray Mears has a lot to answer for, which means I sleep in a hammock under a tarp, 3' away from my bike*. Great in the Summer sunshine, not quite so great in the pissing rain and a cold wind which is strong enough to lift me. If it's honking down, a brew and a warm smile, along with the chance to dry my boots, goes a long way to making things good again, fellatio isn't necessary. Mostly.
*I tend not to dig Punji Pits any more, and anti-bear measures aren't usually necessary, but if you know of somewhere I can stop without having to sleep with one eye open, that is always welcome to the lone traveller who obviously will have his passport and cash on him.
I've definitely reached that point in life where wild camping has led to me leaping out of bed, naked, clutching a Kabar, bellowing for Odin to help me smite my foes like some crazed Berzerker. This actually holds none of the appeal of my youth, and is probably best avoided from now on. Saga cruises beckon, they are the equivalent of "going quietly into the night", but not yet, not yet.
I missed my hols last year, thanks to work pressures, I'm kind of luminous white in colour, so it's definitely time to catch some rays, and let my clockweights swing free. Quiet locations, or places where this is not an atrocity, are welcomed too.
Anyone who has actually read this far, I salute you. Anyone who has the stones to meet up for a brewski/cup of char/a mad BJ world record attempt...get in touch.
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J & S
