Day 2 Gatwick to Marseillan.

This is going to be another day of back packing, or should I say pannier carrying.

First, an early start for the flight to Montpellier

We think we passed over where we are aiming for, but we forgot to pack the parachute.

All that fragile tape and plastic must have worked because our panniers are first on the luggage carousel.

The number 260 bus took us from the airport to L’Place du Europe and Montpellier centre, then we had another 30 min walk to the station. My compatriot is getting used to this.

After a station sandwich (better than British Rail) we caught a train to Marseillan Plage, and this is where the perfectly planned and executed trip fell apart. On arrival at the deserted destination station, we started walking towards our accommodation. My compatriot looking hot and fed up with her panniers gave a cheery bonjour to a man loading up his trailer. Shortly after, he stopped as he drove past and engaged us in conversation. Our one day Babel French course did not help us, but undeterred, he shrugged his shoulders and, in sign language, offered a lift. Not being sure our French would actually get us dropped off in a helpful place, I declined. As he drove off, my compatriot was not best pleased and said in her version of French she would have preferred a lift rather than the 50-minute walk on dusty tracks through the vineyards and nature reserve.

On arrival, our hosts provided drinks and nibbles before I treated my compatriot to a taxi ride into the port area for mussels, chips, beer, followed by a Noilly Pratt and karma was restored.

This is the home of Noilly Prat and an unexpectedly beautiful harbour with restaurants around it.

A taxi back to our accommodation to catch up on sleep and rest the pannier carrying arms. ( I know how to spoil my compatriot) and no more pannier carrying unless we loose the bikes.