In all fairness we both saw the big, red X sign at the start of the military road but it’s amazing what you can convince yourself to ignore when doggedly following a line on the sat nav.
The route we had picked seemed to have unwittingly taken us through a restricted military area, for about 10 miles.
Now my lack of language skills meant that the warning signs could have said “Road closed at night for firing practice”. Or this is what I sheepishly tried to explain to the stern looking gentleman in the military jeep who pulled us over then unequivocally escorted us back to the main road and a 15 mile detour.
Bugger. Continue reading
Cycling in a skirt 