Picasso...Needless to say the pilot and co-pilot are a wee bit nervous to say the least. The rest of the Paris traffic was blissfully unaware what was about to be unleashed on them. Our fist stop is only a kilometre down the road to fill up with fuel. Like all new cars the fuel tank is empty. With two GPS and a mud map to guide us through the 3 roundabouts and several turns in just one and a bit kilometres we manage to arrive without incident. This must be the only servo within cooee of Charles de Gaul (CDG) airport. Every pump is filling up a taxi, limo or a hire car. The servo and the space around it looks more like a car park than a petrol stop. And on top of that the drivers roar around and through the service station like maniacs with only centimetres to spare and a bit of tooting. Picasso is diesel. But it is not always called diesel and petrol is definitely not called petrol (sans plomb or something or other). To add to the confusion at this service station there seemed to be two grades of diesel. John figures the one with the advertising attached is probably the more expensive of the two.
With a tank of full of fuel, empty bladders and the sunroof open we hit the open road. It is 375km west across France to our destination at Rennes. The roads around the airport are just a gigantic spaghetti junction. We blindly follow the GPSes directions which thankfully agree with each other and more importantly agree with the co-pilot’s road map plotted route (highlighted with yellow marker pen).
By now it is 9.30am on a work day in Paris and the roads are full to overflowing. We spend an hour or so getting from CDG and around the perimeter of Paris from the north-east to the south-east. Just as we see light at the end of the tunnel, we discover the exit we had planned to take onto the motorway to Rennes is closed for major reconstruction. Luckily the 3 navigators have time in the crawling traffic to come up with another plan they all agree on.We finally hit the open road. The motorway is eight lanes wide and has a 130km/hr speed limit.
The French drivers seem to think this is the minimum speed not the maximum limit.
Jenelle changes role from chief navigator to chief co-driver. John finds it a bit tricky getting the hang of where to position the unfamiliar car in the lane when the steering wheel is on the unfamiliar other side of the car. This lane positioning is more problematic when we are passing on the left, judging the distance between us and them. On top of that John seems to have developed some difficulty in keeping under a 130 km/hr (and still the locals go by like we are standing still).
In between giving necessary advice on how fast and where to drive, Jenelle has a chance to get some nice shots of the French countryside as we hoon along.
We are amazed by the vast area of wheat growing in fields that seem to stretch to the horizon in places.
Fields of Wheat….
We arrive in Rennes at the Youth Hostel early afternoon. The drive has been successfully completed. Yahoo!!! Time to relax with a drink and watch the boats on the canal from our bedroom window.
St Martin Canal….
