As opposed to Day 1’s French countryside farmyard tour the ride today was almost entirely along the banks of the Lorie (just like they said when I signed up ).
As I et out from the HI hostel at Nantes it was cloudless sunny , quiet and beautiful. And I often caught myself smiling outloud cycling forested flat verges of the river. There is that river silt smell here and it reminds me of my Tom Sawyer days building huts and swimming along the banks of the Wairau in my home town in New Zealand. I say bring it on.
There were a number of day cyclists out, as well as about half a dozen of the more long distance types. Intersesting sites for the two wheel inclined: a family of four on 2 matching tandem tricycles (insert name for those low rider – mum what’s that bicycles). And a family of merry three again on a tandam banging along with a pre-toddler in a childrens trailer attached behind – go team!
Despite what people say, the French are quite chatty. As far as I can make out everyone is inquisite and polite, asking where I come from, where I have been, where i am going and offer me helpful tips – though I could quite easily have this all wrong – I don’t speak a word of French.
Though luckily for me due to English winning the war on words most of the under 40’s speak some amount of English – having learnt it in school– so can help you out with the neccesiticys – supermarket, toilet, electricity, coffee, cake. Stuff like that. However don’t expect to get into a political discussion about the French Governments bombing of the Greenpeace ship “Rainbow Warrior” while in port in New Zealand during the 1980’s – that is just going to have to wait.
I am feeling the burn tonight of the physical aspect of the ride -a nd have to stop for countless coffees at small riverside cafes. No matter what anyone tells you spending a month on a yacht sailing from the thames over to the English channel islands and back is not good preparation for a pan Europe bicycle tour. I have a deep seated tiredness – low level exhaustion (…pump it up Chris). Arriving at 10.30 pm at the hostel and the subsequent frontal assault on the hostel snack machine ( 1 Fanta 1 Coke a snickers and something masquerading as a biscuit)– was no substitute for proper food. I wonder if the plate of muesli I had tonight for dinner is going to fair any better.
I think I might start going for heat and eat yea old can of beans and tasty “x” until I get up enough endurance to feel like cooking after pulling in.
More on food, I did find a tube of condensed milk today at the local supermache (that’s French for supermarket, not French for a giant paper mache – as you might be led to believe (see picture of giant paper mache giant opposite)). The tube of condensed milk will save me spilling milk all over my stuff (a quite preventable yet seemingly inevitable occurrence)
Tomorrow will tell. Its my birthday tomorrow - I remember, and my French neighbors in the campsite have stopped singing.
“Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me” – he sings as he cries himself to sleep ;)
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