Next we went through Poitiers
Next we went through Poitiers which was a familiar name from the history books. After that we headed for Angouleme, a large town that was a new name to me. I think we went through it or perhaps I just remember seeing lots of signposts for it. We did go through Bordeaux and after that we crossed a major national park and onto the long straight roads of the sparsely populated Department of Landes. By then it was dark and there was nowhere to stop until we reached the town of Bayonne.
Celtic supporters in Lisbon. Photo IMAGO (The Celtic Star)
We arrived at 1:00am and the drivers desperately needed some sleep. They stopped outside a modest hotel and went inside to make enquiries. The news was good as the hotel had a number of vacant rooms and it would cost us the equivalent of £1 per night for bed and breakfast. I think everyone who wanted a room was able to avail of one. Some felt that the money would be better spent elsewhere, or maybe they didn’t have enough, and decided to sleep on the bus. The hotel was very basic. Everything was painted white, the bed clothes were white, the wooden floor was bare and unpolished but the place was spotless. In the morning breakfast consisted of a huge cup of coffee, baguette, butter and the most delicious home-made rhubarb jam – one of the best breakfasts I ever had.
Wednesday morning and we hadn’t yet reached Spain
It was Wednesday morning and we hadn’t yet reached Spain, although we were close to the border. Before we arrived someone came up to me and said that one of our party had had enough and wanted to go home. Would we stop at a railway station in the next town and let him off? I was concerned at dropping someone with no French in the south of France and leaving him to make his own way home. Did he even have enough money to pay for the train and ferry? He was insistent and we dropped him off, probably in the town of San Jean de Luz. Our lady passenger now had a proper seat.
Celtic supporters in Lisbon Photo IMAGO (The Celtic Star)
At the border I decided it might speed things up if I collected all the passports and brought them in to the immigration office. I asked our Spanish friend to join me and to do the talking. Inside I presented a large pile of temporary travel passes, a handful of British passports, one Spanish passport and one Irish passport. The official gave the British and Spanish documents no more than a cursory glance but seemed to be fascinated by my Irish passport – perhaps it was the first he had ever seen. I wasn’t asked any questions and he eventually told us that we were free to go.
We found a young man with a Celtic scarf thumbing a lift
We hadn’t travelled far when we came round a corner on a country road and found a young man with a Celtic scarf thumbing a lift. We stopped and picked him up. The stool was once again called into use. I wish I could remember his story but I’m sure he would never have seen the final if we hadn’t come along.
After San Sebastian it was a long slow climb over the Pyrenees. During that climb I was asked to intervene in a dispute between two friends. I went down towards the back of the bus to find a heated argument taking place. On inquiring as to the problem, I was told by one that his friend wanted to stop the bus to have a “pee” and that if we kept stopping we’d be late for the game.
London based Celtic supporters in Lisbon
When man’s gotta go, a man’s gotta go, so I stopped the bus which didn’t actually resolve the argument but they eventually got over it.
