This year marks the 40th birthday for my BMW motorcycle and I decided to do a special trip to France which covered a little over 3,500 kilometres. I had three reasons to justify my going to France other than the beautiful scenery and great food. One, I wanted to see some Templar sites because of my connection with the Masons. Two, I wanted to find, photograph, and document Sheila na Gigs, which are usually 12th century figures of naked, flat chested, otherwise shapely females with their legs spread or up in the air exposing their genitals. They are carved in stone in and outside of Churches; hence my fascination that such grotesque concupiscent images appear on sacred edifices. Third, I wanted to meet up with an acquaintance from college I hadn't seen in over 35 years.
Chartres was my first stop. I hadn't seen this outstanding Cathedral since 1968. Nearby, I was pleased to view two of my favourite painters, Vlaminck and Soutine, at the Musee des Beaux Arts.
It was cool and wet the first part of this journey. It rained 6 of the 8 hours I was on the road between Provins and Vesoul. From Vesoul to Annecy, it got as cold as 12 C because of the Jura mountains.
Finally, at Annecy, the weather returned to what one would expect in August. It's wonderful motorcycling in France because of the mix of odours which waft into the nostrils, e.g. wood, Sweet Pea, Pine, baking, dry leaves, Lavender, vinegar, perfume - and sometimes the unsavory nutritive matter.
Half way into the trip I made it to the home of my old college acquaintance, Michel, who lives in a typical French, quaint, country village in Provence. Michel has a charming wife who is a gourmet cook. I grew fond of all his 2 dogs and 3 cats by the end of my stay. Michel and I found ourselves immersed in lively conversation the whole time we were together and we both agreed that though we don't make friends easily, we had crossed the Rubicon from 'acquaintances' to 'friends'.
The next stop was the highly publicised Rennes Le Chateau. To all my Mason Brethren and those who came to this little chapel because of the poorly written and fantastic Dan Brown novel, I say 'get a life!' Rumours of history, never checked, never proved.
When I returned from visiting the little Rennes Le Chateau chapel, I saw 3 people standing around the bike. The eldest told me he was Belgian and had bought his first motorcycle, similar to mine, in the then Belgian Congo. He just wanted to hear the motor. A couple days later, a cop pulled me over; then began telling his younger colleague 'this is either a collection piece or still a very usable machine because it's so well made.' I asked 'did I do anything wrong?' 'No, no', he exclaimed 'I had to see this bike up close'. Just as well it was all innocent as I had forgotten to bring my insurance papers. Often, other motorcyclists would take photos of the bike. I would wonder at the vast difference in motorcycling experience there was between my stripped down, clean, low to the ground, kick starting, duffle bag, exposed way versus the modern, helmet wired to iPods, wrap around fairings complete with cigarette lighters and glove compartments, snap 'n place locked panniers, and electric ignition way. It seemed the modern way had evolved into becoming a car with two wheels.
Next stop was Domme, where Philip Le Bel banged away some of the Templar Knights in 1307. The grafitti was absolutely fascinating. If my tire hadn't gone bald on me, I might have had the time to squeeze in another grafitti filled Templar prison in Chinon.
Finally, I reached Charentes Maritime where there are reputed to be over 100 Sheilas. I was like a kid in a candy store. Such glee welled up in my heart when I'd roll up to a 12th century church and spotted one of those little saucy ladies looking down at me with her legs splayed and her fingers pulling apart her vulva.
I have made 3 motorcycle trips through France in the last 6 years - an accumulation of over 10,000 km. I have to say that the French have always been courteous, gone out of their way to be helpful to the point of stopping and going over my map with me or leading me in the right direction with their vehicles, etc., shown a great sense of humour, AND continued to smile after I said I was from the United States. All that, combined with fantastic cooking, beautiful cities and countryside, and incredible historical monuments, I have to forgive the county's politics and embrace France as one of the most special places on Earth. Vive la France!
I ran into the young Irish couple on a Yamaha I met outbound to Roscoff when I was queuing to get on the return ferry to Cork. They told me how they were stopped for speeding and paid an on-the-spot fine; then, I told them how I was stopped just for curiosity. It was good to see their smiling Irish eyes in my anticipation of returning to my cottage and cat. On the ferry, I thought about the treasure hunt I had been on and concluded that the jeweled crown was my finding a friend in Michel.
As one French woman said to me when I told her of my search for the grotesque figurines, 'It's the search which is important in life, no matter what one searches for'.