Day 13: Mousseaux-sur-Seine to Paris. Wet Wet Wet

For various reasons I am feeling rather emotional whilst writing this. It could be the fact that Maddy & I have finally made it to Paris and although the only camp site in Paris had the “Complet” sign up they managed to find space for us. It could be the fact that I've just completed probably the best adventure I've yet had the pleasure to be able to complete along side my gorgeous girlfriend. Having cycled all the way to Paris from our home in Apsley under our own steam and half the time surviving in the woods and other slightly dodgy places. It could be the 8.2% Navigator Dutch beer I've been drinking. It could be the fact that one adventure has just finished and a much bigger one is about to begin and I am now aware much more of the task in hand. Or it could be the response to a present from an anonymous benefactor that I wasn't expecting. Either way it's all sorts of stuff all mixed up and I'm writing this in the only camp site in Paris having cycled ??? miles from Liverpool having set off 13 days ago to be here.

However lets go back a few hours to about 2am last night when we realised it was pissing down and the tarp extension had fallen down and we had left everything out to get soaked in the rain. Leather saddle – soaked, teabags – soaked, dry towel – soaked, clean shorts – soaked, food – soaked, waterproof socks, inside out – soaked. You name it, it got wet. So no surprise it was a slow start to the day. Beating all records so far we left the camp site after 12. The sun started to pop it's head out though and the rain stayed away for the rest of the day. Off we slopped to Mantes to tick a box in the Stevens itinerary and are rewarded with a beautifully ornate cathedral, that gets even better when you view it from the grass amphitheatre on the opposite bank of the Seine. The sun is still out so we both get out our wettest items and strap them to the back of our bikes whilst cycling along. We take the quiet roads to Nanterre just outside Paris however these are quite hilly in places and the average speed is not too hot. We wheel into Nanterre about 6ish and fall about laughing when we find it is twinned with Watford. Onwards we trot to Paris, Port Maillot, and the Bois de Boulogne; Home of the only camp site in Paris and also rather a hub of sexual activity for ladies and men of the night, although any time of day seems to be a good time for a little business as we see some bodies disappear into the woods. Just in case the camp site does not have a supermarket we stop at a shop and pick up supplies. Here I find 4 new beers. Although one is Kronenbourg its called “Jamiroquai, Rock Dust, Light Star”, that is the name I promise you. Our sack magique is full with beer and we find a spot in camp next to two his and hers German Rohloff equipped bikes. Now where did I put my can of navigator.