The morning brought fog and, although I was able to find my way back onto the road that I wanted to take south, this road was now a motorway. There was no specific 'no cycling' sign as I joined the road although the 'motorway' sign would usually be enough to suggest to most people that this wasn't a great place to cycle. But the truth of the matter was that there wasn't any other road to take (edit - there actually was another road I could have taken, I just hadn't looked at a map) so I carried blindly on. Blindly because the fog was too thick to see anything. Oh, and there was no shoulder by the way. Just to confirm, yes I was riding a bicycle in the slow lane of the motorway in thick fog. I'm so sensible! But there wasn't that much traffic and my main concern was that a police car would come and pick me up. What would I say?

"Sorry officer, I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be cycling here?"

"You didn't know you aren't supposed to cycle on the motorway?"

"No officer. I have a very small brain"

"Not to worry, these things happen. We won't fine you this time. Jump in the back and we'll give you a lift to where its safe."

"I'm sorry officer, I can't do that, it will ruin the whole trip. I'm going to carry on cycling and you just try and stop me. Shoot out my tires if you must, I'll ride on the rims I swear I will."

I could see from my map that the motorway only lasted for about ten kilometres, then returned to being a normal road. I just had to get through those ten kilometres without being arrested and I went as fast as I could to do so, but naturally it was all up a steep hill (honestly, if I ever see that Gerry again I'm going to kick him in the nuts.) But finally I came to a sign which showed that the motorway ended. 'Wouldn't it be funny if a police car came past just now?' I thought to myself as I came up to the sign, and I promise you that at almost the exact moment that I reached it a police car really did drive past me. 'Wow!' I thought, 'my powers appear to be getting stronger. Hmmm... Wouldn't it be funny if a group of gorgeous female cycle tourists, on their way to Australia and in need of some male company, were to come past just now?' I looked in my rear-view mirror. Nothing. Hmmm, it comes and goes.

Unfortunately the only effect the end of the motorway regulations had was to funnel three lanes of traffic into one. There was still no shoulder and now no space for overtaking, the fog was still thick and to make life even more unfortunate, my front rack broke again! This time one of the braize-ons (the holey bits welded to the frame that the rack screws into) had actually broken off. This was the first time an actual piece of my bike frame itself had broken and that made me very sad, although the rack appeared to still be sturdy enough to continue until I could get it welded back on.

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I came across a gas station and decided to stop and see if the fog cleared before continuing. This proved a most excellent decision, because the man who worked at the gas station was absolutely the greatest guy in the whole world. He welcomed me with a big smile and almost overwhelming enthusiasm. Of course they had wifi, of course I was welcome to come in and sit down, twix are on promotion, four for the price of three. His name was, and probably still is, Krasimir and he was working with a young girl named Leman.

"Lemon?"

"Yes, Leman."

"Your name is Lemon?"

"Yes my name is Leman."

"I love your name."

"Thank you."

They were really fun. In Bulgaria the attendants at the gas station fill up the tank for the driver and they both ran around enthusiastically doing this. If more than one car turned up at the same time Leman would be filling up the first car and Krasimir would run out as that driver was walking in to pay and he'd fill up the second car and run inside, overtaking the first driver on the way and be behind the desk in time to take the money, offer the twix promotion and then run back out and wash the windscreen of the second car and run back, overtaking the second driver on the way and be back behind the desk in time to take the money and offer the twix promotion. He offered that promotion to every single customer and not one took him up on it and not once did he lose his enthusiasm. And whenever things got quiet he would shake his head and say "Chris, Angli, Chris, Angli" and he'd come and look at my map of where I'd cycled and shake his head even more. And Leman added me on Facebook and showed me her fiancee and maybe even invited me to the wedding. There was a tremendous goodbye as I left, much waving and "bye-byes" and maybe even a tear in dear Krasimir's eye. It was the gas station to end all gas stations. It was, possibly, the greatest place in the whole of Bulgaria.

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I descended down out of the worst of the fog and carried on south through more hilly countryside, much of it forested. Late in the day the road reached the coast again and I passed through a couple of resort towns. How strange these felt, the nice resorts and hotels being such a far cry from the rest of Bulgaria. In the town of Obzor I left the main highway and went right down to the sea. Everything was so pretty; there was a nice park, clean well-maintained footpaths, perfect looking resort buildings. And there was not a soul in sight, the whole place was deserted. The beach itself almost took my breath away, it was so beautiful. This was also deserted; the restaurants and cafes on the beach boarded up with big walls of sand built up around them to protect them from stormy seas. But the sand was perfect, the water looked so inviting and it was all complemented by the light from the waning sun. Oh, to be here in summer, I thought, or maybe not, better to enjoy it without the tourists.

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