Salces Le Chateau/ Perpignan/MotoGP and gendarmes

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We left Montfort with a heavy heart as we had enjoyed a relaxed week there in pleasant company. We had our last meal at La Peche Mallet and it was indeed fine again. We worried that our car would act up again and that perhaps we should head home early. We decided though not to do this as we had pre-booked tickets for the MotoGP race at Barcelona. We planned to stop half way at Perpignan the former capital of the kingdom of Majorca. We had a certain symphathy with the Catalans, part French, part Spanish with a language and culture of their own much like the Welsh. We had intended to stay at a Campanile just off the motorway and spend the afternoon sightseeing the Palais de Rois de Majorque. Having read up a lot about it it seemed an ideal place to while away a few hours.

However as were driving along the N9 motorway we noticed in the distance a distinctly red squat low lying fort the type of which we had never seen before. We had little idea what it was as we had done no homework on the area apart from the city itself. It seemed curious sitting in the dusty, cactus filled landscape.

After settling in our hotel a modern building in the middle of nowhere we set off in search of the mysterious fort. After some confusion, riding down tiny streets we eventually found a car park and paid to leave the car whilst we walked the remaining distance. Under railway bridges and through peach groves. Eventually we arrived to a magnificent Spanish built fort of rich red sandstone similar to that of Collonges la Rouge. Salces le Chateau was certainly not a chateau - it wouldnt have looked out of place in a Mexican cowboy film of the 1950's. It was built by the Spanish to protect the border from the French in the 15th century. It was taken by the French in 1642, afterwards becoming a prison, then abandoned and only becoming a monument in 1886.

It was one of those places you fall upon but they leave a lasting impression on your memory. The palace had to wait for another visit.

The following day we headed for the border with Spain and joined an orderly queue behind a Spanish police car. We were escorted like a wagon train from France to Spain. We still have not worked out why this should be. It was the first time we had seen any form of guards on border crossings for a long time. We arrived at our hotel the Hotel Granollers our base for the next few days. This was a brilliant hotel handy for the Catalunya circuit with an excellent restuarant and the best breakfast we have ever had. We drove to the circuit, watched practice and wandered around the circuit taking in all the sights and sounds. This wasnt the first race we had been to. We had already been to Misano and Mugello in Italy but this was by far the best organised we had seen.

At our evening meal we sat next to Nick Harris official commentator for MotoGP and in the morning sat by all the mechanics and tv crews from MotoGP.

We eventually watched the race and decided to head home. Yes you have got it - the car wouldnt start. I left Glenn trying the starter whilst I went in search of two burly Spanish policemen in the hope that they would help us start the car. Before I got there the car started and we rushed back to the hotel to load the car up and head home. The plan was to drive as far as we could that day - Vierzon seemed the ideal stopping place if we could manage it.

We drove north over the Millau Bridge a fabulous feat of engineering. The last time we went over we could see nothing due to the low lying clouds but today the sun was shining and it was possible to see the valley of the Tarn miles below us. After an hour we found ourselves driving down an empty motorway apart from a few cars in front of us. Keeping up with them we laughed when a speed camera caught the woman in front of us and joked that she would be a bit out of pocket that day. However much to our surprise we only travelled a few miles when two gendarmes on motor bikes appeared from nowhere. One drove behind us and the other in front and we were ushered into an aire. It seemed odd the only two who had been stopped were us and a Swedish guy. Discrimination came to mind. In impeccable English the first gendarme told us that we had been caught speeding 130 km per hour in a 110 km area. We asked for evidence of our misdemeanor only for him to point to his police badge and inform us that his badge was his proof. No photos no argueing. Fined 90 euros we left him to pull another unsuspecting Brit on their way home.

We drove to Vierzon staying at a Campanile opposite a Citroen garage just in case! We didnt need it as the car started and we drove north to Paris hitting the Peripherique at 9.00 rush hour. Hoping the car wouldnt let us down we crawled along the Peripherique at a snails pace.

How pleased we felt to arrive at the tunnel and relieved to get the car home, However it doesnt take long to forget and wish you were on the road again.

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