After an amazing breakfast of bacon and eggs and a shower we set off. Wernies drops us off at a truck stop right on the Dutch/Belgian border.
On the road again, I can't wait to get on the road again. Or, well, maybe not. It gets to about 1300h, and Buzzy and I have a look at the map, see just how far we have to get, and this sparks the convo I've been dreading from the beginning.
"What happens if we don't get picked up?"
Amazingly, this is the first time this has been brought up, at least in the open. Before now it had just been expected. But the difference now was that we have to average 200 miles - 320km - a day.
What made this more of a problem was the - excluding Soran - the longest lifts we got were from Truckers, and it was always A to B. Basically, if they weren't going to Marsailles, we won't get a lift. Plus Marsailles is a LONG way from the Dutch/Belgian border.
We decide on the following. Get to Brussels at least, if there is still light try and get to Lille or just on the road to Lyon. We will get to Marsailles, regardless, even if we have to get a train to Paris to get the flight.
Marsailles and the Med have always been the true goal of this trip, Paris was just a means to get home, and Tolouse and Bordeaux are just to round the route off. Same as Wernies house was the half way point - for me at least, and not to mention the last time we could get legally stoned.
With that settled we go and have a chat with some Truckers, and eventually get picked up by a Turk, who takes us as far down the road (and over the border) as he can. 20km to Brussels. Another 45 mins wait in which Buzzy is told that sex = lift twice we get picked up by a Bosnian. He speaks a bit of German so we can sort of understand a bit of what he is saying and he takes us past Brussles and towards Gent. We have a look at the map again, and realise that we are now futher north than we were this morning, and getting out at the next services. Fuck.
Our sign reading Lille, we eventually get picked up by a Spanyard which makes it 3/3 in drivers that don't speak English. Not that we speak Turking/Bosnian/German/Spanish, but that is beside the point.
I have a look through his GPS and see he is going to Bordeaux and says he will take us all the way there!
Looks like Marsaille will have to wait, and this marks the second time we have reversed the rotation of our loops.
We stop at a truck stop 50km from Paris, and sleep.
