I woke to a curt missive from across the sea:

Dear Sir or Madam,

We are sorry to inform you that we are currently receiving a very large number of requests and will not be able to process them all.

We remind you that a negative result of an antigen test taken at a pharmacy, available all over France, grants the user a health pass that is valid for three days (72 hours).

Yeah, we're not going to pay 58€ every three days just to get a QR code. We'll take our chances with the bureaucracy, and with the kindness of campground management to accept our flimsy CDC cards as proof of vaccination until the government comes through.

We also received our test results, so all our other papers are in order. Phew!

As I type, my fellow traveler is scurrying between basement and bedroom, assembling bits and pieces of vital touring gear. I get cold very easily, so unfortunately I'm having to pack the whole shebang: rain jacket, rain pants, helmet cover, shoe covers, "glove covers" (I don't know what else to call them), arm warmers, tights, thermal underwear, fleece, buff, etc. This is all stuff that has served me well over hundreds of damp Seattle commutes, and experience has taught me that I will need every last one of these weapons in the quest to stay warm and dry. These take up 1/3 of a large pannier. The standard fare of shorts, jerseys, socks, and camp clothes consumes the rest. Hopefully Sunyoung's clothes pannier will not be so cramped.

Our cooking gear goes in one small pannier, and the air mattress in the other. There's room for a few more small items in each. We'll have to fill our fuel bottle and buy a lighter our first day on the road.

Sleeping bags go in Sunyoung's panniers, and the tent lies on my rear rack secured by a cargo net.

When all is said and done, we're simply not going to have much room for food. We'll make it work somehow.