Day 6: Questions and Franceswers.

I didn't really have any questions. I just wanted to make a pun title. This is a long post from a long day. 72km of arse-mangling cycling. Let's begin:

I woke up, funnily enough, in the same place. Except that I wasn't. The shutters opened bang on 6am English time and the lights went on with it. I swear to you the first thing I heard was a very distinct fart from one of the older men near me, which followed, and closed, with a spritely encore.



I packed up and wedged on my shoes, and then stumbled around sleepily. The same rocking motion that had lulled me to sleep, 6 hours before was making me work to maintain uprightness.

This was my first view of France.



I got off the ferry after all the other cyclists but as they went into Roscoff town (I assume) I got straight on the road. I had no water left at this point but it was cool and misty so it didn't seem that bad. I'd heard, with my eyes, from some words, that you can get water from any cemetery. I passed one but felt too awkward.

Thankfully after a certain point, a broken promise of a lidl ahead, and the discovery that it was a French bank holiday, the route was, and probably still is, very well signed.



I went through a town setting up a market and then down some winding farm tracks. Bumpbling (that's right bumpbling) along over light coloured soil and small rocks. I missed one sign but I soon realised when the alternative was a ramp leading to the sea. I saw a public but rustic wc and took a swig out of the tap in desperation. So far (12hrs later): nothing projectile.

Then after a long climb I saw a sign to another town and though the man in the first shop didn't sell water or speak English, he directed me to a 'supermarchet' round the corner. Aces! Three bottles of water, some pineapple juice, Bananas nuts and own brand Pringles.

Down a long long hill which I hoped desperately was the right way as I wasn't keen on the return journey. Then the semi well-kept road turned to smooth velvety tarmac...for a bit.


Here is where Keith and then later the lady trio passed me as I was fiddling with my bags. Getting them in the sweet spot. We greeted like cyclists do as they rode by and after 5 minutes I caught them up and had a chat. I stonked them up another large hill and lost them again. But I wasn't void of company for long as there was a running race organised using part of the route. I just kinda fell in line, as though was officiating, and moved at their pace until our routes diverged. I cycled on the wrong side of the road for a bit to feel at home. Then it was hours of country tracks.



At the pace I was going, I knew I'd be too early arriving at my camp ground so I stopped in the shade, tried to take some arty photos and read for a bit. About half hour later, Agatha and the crew turned up at the same junction and stopped. They were looking for water and I offered them one of my bottles as I had loads. They insisted on paying for it and I made a tidy profit of €1.56. As they filled up they asked where I was going and I ended talking about Helly and pandas.

Here's an out of focus pine cone.


I stayed for a bit and they pushed on but later down the ways I saw that one, Glenda(?), had blown out their inner tube and upon inspection part of their tyre. They asked for advice on changing the tube, to limp to the next town, and I stood there and told them exactly what they were doing wrong. I was a saviour in their eyes. I left before they had righted the bike.



Turns out the track is an old railway route and this is a derelict station I was poking around in, before having a chat with a Belgian fella who turned up with his wife. Cycling and camper-vanning around, no plan as such. I think we should do that Helly. Take note.

Then there was miles of track on a lovely slight downward gradient, and incredibly, I hit traffic. A horse drawn painted wagon taking up the whole track. I squeezed past and later did the same another cart coming towards me and to a group of horses. The same group of horses caught me up while I was texting so I finished quickly and stayed just ahead of them. A few minutes after I could hear galloping and pedaled hard as if they were chasing me but I went over a bridge and they detoured below it. I watched where the riders went and it looked nice so I followed them down to have a look-see.



Pretty huh?
I almost considered camping around here but it was still too early. I should mention by this point I had seen the house I was meant to be camping at and it was only around 3pm so I shot Christophe a "thanks anyway" email and rode on.

I ended up in a campsite much further on called Camping de la Vallee de l'Hyeres. Meaning camping in the valley of the swans, maybe. Nice and very cheap €4.70 but hugely child friendly. I've washed my dirty kaks, finished off the Pringles and am down for the night. Now I need to find some good Internet to upload this.