Forgot...

Almost exactly a year ago, we went on a wonderful chateau trip towards Almeria. And during this beautiful time, the plan matured to travel through southern Europe to Morocco for six months this winter.
Who expects a pandemic? Well, we didn't give up the plans and now remember past adventures, like this one in September 2019:

After a week of being on the road, we leave the Périgord with its countless caves, beautiful villages, and castles that line up like a chain along the rivers behind us.

But let's start from the beginning!

We start a few kilometers west of Osterwiek with the German Tour de France, where we, together with Birgit and Bibi, have the impression that we could be the only fans of bicycle racing along the route. The event is overall not very spectacular, no fun French advertising caravan, but we enjoy the Crémant and Bibi enthusiastically waves the Italian flag, much to the delight of this team.

Good thing Zappa already noticed that he forgot his nighttime breathing apparatus here, so the return trip home is not that far. Now I forget, in turn, to unpack the additional camping chair, but that gives us a spare in case one should give up along the way - wouldn't be the first time...

On Friday morning, we wake up with a view of the Rhine and start thinking about how the journey should actually start and continue. We turn our maps back and forth, discuss and dismiss various thoughts, and in the end, we agree that we want to arrive somewhere in Spain at some point.

So, first the Périgord.

After three very hot days that we mainly spend by the rivers and almost naked, we arrive in the evening at a reservoir in the Limousin and have to realize that the heatwave is probably over now. And Zappa has to realize that he also forgot his warm underwear. The whole clothing issue: due to the many overtime shifts for Gandersheim, not only did the snorkel and long pants stay at home, the newly ordered shorts do not arrive in time for the trip, which is why we have to bring one that has already been sorted out, which constantly slips down, and the sweaters are the ones that were ordered a size too small some time ago and pinch under the armpits.

But currently at the reservoir, the temperatures drop below 10°C, we are slowly getting cold, and soon we crawl into the robber's cave.

We need a Decathlon to solve the problem of freezing long Zappa legs. We find one in Périgueux and storm the sports temple. The countless rows of shelves with colorful plastic sports equipment immediately cause a consumer jet lag.

We escape to the hunting/fishing department. No idea how one has to imagine that in a German Decathlon store, but here we are immediately blown away by camouflage clothes in beige and covered all over with autumn-colored oak leaves. There is also a bright orange version for the fearful type, as a jacket, vest, pants, raincoat, rubber boots, cap... In addition, the ambitious dog owner can buy a radio for a mere 350€, with which he can call his dog from long distances and to which it will listen - or not... There are full-body rubber suits for the angler and speedboats. We find the fate of the live bait fish particularly terrible and would prefer to buy them all and release them into the Vézère.

In the hiking department, we finally find what we're looking for and buy a warm, very sporty pair of underwear for Zappa so he's prepared for the upcoming cold season, after all, we're also going to the mountains. The Kangoo welcomes us in the parking lot with an interior temperature of 35°C.

Meanwhile, we have left the Périgord behind. The picturesque villages on the Vézère and Dordogne rivers are invaded by energetic seniors in September, who come everywhere with their camper vans. In the little town of Domme, we try in vain to find a place to park our tank on the 6 huge parking lots that have been created to accommodate the streams of visitors. The town, where not even 1000 people live, is taken over and raided by tourists.

We flee and follow a hiking trail a few kilometers away in a small heath area. It smells of pines here, the heather blooms, the fern is waist-high, and no one meets us, what peace!