Retrospective

We finished our London to Cannes tour in September.  It was our longest and most ambitious trip to date, and only our second international one.

Due to the minimal amount of live blogging possible during the trip, we decided to do a full retrospective write up, and the thirteen days of the trip are detailed below.

In true blog style the most recent days are at the top, so you need to start at the bottom - at Retrospective Day 1 - and work your way back up.

For seasoned cycle-tourers this may bring back some memories.   For beginners or those thinking about their first long trip, we hope that it's an inspiration as well as a useful resource for you.  In any case, we hope you'll find it interesting.

We raised some money for Cancer Research on the way, but we're not finished yet.  We'll continue to raise money on every trip we do.  If you enjoyed this piece, or you find anything on the blog site useful, feel free to click on the link at the top and donate - every bit counts.

Thanks.

***END OF RETROSPECTIVE***

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RETROSPECTIVE IS BELOW HERE

Beyond that is the original, live trip blog

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Retrospective Write Up: Day 13 - Friday 24th September, 2010

Day 13 - Friday 24th September, 2010

l'Arbresle > Grigny (and then back to Lyon)

38.8 miles

4:20 moving time, 8.9 mph moving average

During what's already a disappointing breakfast, we see an email about some business matters back in the UK.  There's a slim chance we may have to go back in the next couple of days.  That's really not ideal to say the least, not now we're so close to the end and we're making good time, so we try and put it out of our mind and ignore it.

It's a grey, cold and rainy morning and it looks a bit bleak for riding.  We keep the full wet weather gear on standby, and I switch to Seal Skin socks.  Nice and warm too. My hand washed clothes are still damp, and no way to dry them today, so I'm back in old kit which I hope a little spray of antibacterial magic will freshen them up a bit.

View from the hotel

The room doesn't smell any better after breakfast and I'm glad to be packing and out of there.  We'll stick to our plan of skirting around Lyon,  routing slightly Southwest, but there's still doubt in both of our minds whether that's the best plan or not.

By the time we're out the rain is light, but the clouds thicken up and it doesn't look like it will clear.  Forecast says rain on and off for next 3-4 days.

Within ten minutes we're up into a steep climb (now tradition for the morning) and it starts coming down heavily.

Moody skies.  Not a god sign.

My rear gears start playing up again and it's extremely irritating that they're jumping on this climb.  I get off for a few minutes but after some adjustments and test rides, I can't seem to fix it, and can't really see what the problem is.  It's not ideal but I'll have to ride with it, up the hill.

The rain is getting heavier and heavier.  We seek a bit of cover in a lay-by, and I switch to waterproof bottoms.  They're not proper cycling ones, so they're not as comfortable on the bike and ride up my legs a bit, and it's not easy getting back on the bike in them.  I also need an elastic band to gather the hem and keep them out of harms way.  All very attractive.  Even though he's got Gore-tex trousers in the bag, John says he's sticking to shorts as he's soaked already.

It feels horrible riding wet and in trousers at first, but I soon start to warm up and the breathable material means my shorts might dry out a bit.

This is now pretty miserable riding.  We're soaked and the rains heavy.  The roads now become busier and busier as we hit the outskirts.  It's quite dark, and we get the lights out for safety.  We have to start to concentrate hard at this stage.  It's our first time riding in heavy rain with loaded bikes and its a shame we're in congested roads near a big city.

It's reasonably hilly, and as usual this is probably because we're not being routed the most efficient way.  We can see bigger hills on route, but we might get lucky and be skirting around them, we can't quite tell yet.  There are also huge areas of flat in the distance, so we should be in for some easier riding to Grenoble after this section.  My bike's making weird noises on the wheel again.  Can't quite tell what it is but doesn't sound right, think the front brakes are rubbing but its intermittent.  My rear light packs in around this time as well - probably full of water.

After a good half an hour on a really busy multi-lane highway, John is pretty freezing now.  Neither of us are feeling that great, and I've got no waterproof hat so am soaked on top.  I get a plastic carrier bag out of the  pannier and tie it over my hat as a makeshift waterproof.  It looks like an abomination , but it works and keeps me a it dryer.  I even put in a few air holes for breathability!

As we pass an industrial estate John sees a bike shop. A quick u-turn and we park up and he heads in.  A little while later he appears and says they're actually closed today, but since they're stock-taking and we're caught out, they'll let us in to get supplies.  Now that's very decent!

We bring the bikes in and soak the place. It's a huge, well stocked shop, and the staff run around helping us.  John gets waterproof overshoes, and new socks.  He then switches to full waterproof bottoms as well.  I get a new rear light, but they're out of gore-tex rain hats (or any rain hats).  Damn - carrier bag it is then.  My brakes have felt a bit loose today so I take a look.  In just one morning of hills, rain and grit, the stock brake blocks on my bike are totally worn down.  There's very little left on them so I get a full new set to put on later.  While I'm checking the brakes, I lift my bike up and the front wheel practically falls off.  Ooops.  So that's what the rubbing was, the wheel's just loose in the forks!  It must have worked loose in the rain.  (I also notice later that it's on the wrong way round, so swap it over).

I feel lucky that nothing happened to the bike while I was on it, and especially lucky since we're on a huge road in bad weather.  I've been checking the nuts and bolts and everything as we go, but I make a special note to check the wheels more often.

With new gear, John's feeling much better, and since we both hate this road, we hit some back lanes instead.  Once again, it's steep.  But it's quiet and more picturesque.  We're getting hungry now too.

It might be the outskirts, it might be the rain, it might be that we're tired and over-hungry, but nowhere we pass looks like a nice place to stop or eat.  We revert back to our old ways and press on.  And on.  We end up buying a few slices of pizza, cakes and sandwiches at a bakery, and then cycle on to find somewhere 'nice' to stop - somewhere a bit off the road.

It never comes and before long we've bonked, and are standing on the pavement at the edge of a village, and we eat standing up we're so hungry we don't care anymore.

It's here the rain lets up for a few seconds and we deal with a few calls.

Not what we were hoping for.

We need to go back to the UK for our work.

After a lot of umming and arring, and much deliberation, we give in to it.  There's no way round it.  We're heading home early.

We can possibly delay it a few days, but right now we're close to Lyon, and it would be an easy place to get back from, so, with much regret we switch the GPS's direct to Lyon, turn 180 degrees, and get pedalling.

We're a little way Southwest, but it's pretty much follow the river all the way back, over it, and then into the city.

As it turns out it's a busy but reasonable journey in, and it ends up being quite pretty along the river.  At first glance it looks like a nice place, so maybe we should have come this way in the first place.  Oh well, we're seeing it now.  A bit of a landslide means a road's closed, but we decide to haul our bikes over the barriers and continue.  The joy of bikes.

He hit Lyon train station and get a coffee.  John checks out trains and times and bike rules.  We're not prepared as we weren't planning to head back from here, so we start trying to gather together all the info we need.

It's now bucketing it down outside so we ride it out in the station and get on the web.  Whatever we do it looks like we'll stay here the night in a hotel and then head back the next day once we've got ourselves organised as it's getting a bit late.

Random shot of Lyon.

We start the mad hotel run, trying to find a place that's good and cheap, and after a few bum leads from TripAdvisor and a dodgy GPS signal, we end up in the dark and still nowhere to stagy.  As it turns out good and cheap don't exist in Lyon (not that have any vacancies anyway).  A wet, rounded kerb takes John off his bike but thankfully he's just a bit bruised, is OK and we carry on.  It seems cycle friendly here apart from the slightly raised kerbs on cycle lanes.

We finally find somewhere and they'll lock our bikes in the bin area, so we  clean up and head for food to discuss plans for tomorrow.

A hotel

It's only just dawning on us that the trip's over.  We're sort of in a bit of a daze really.

For me, it's been an emotional week, and that makes it even more upsetting to finally have to call it a day after I'd recovered from my weird physical ailment a few days ago.  I feel really good now, and although still worried about the wedding timing, I feel I could get over the Alps and to the end.  I'm fitter than I've ever been. For John, the disappointment's also huge.  The Alps and getting to Cannes were his main reasons for doing it, and he thought he was nearly there.

We also feel really bad since we've used the ride as a way to raise money for charity, and quite a lot of people are following the trip and a few people have already donated.  We don't want them to feel cheated about it, but there's not much we can do.

Our street

So the evening is a mixture of excitement, reflection, happiness and sadness all in one.  We both make a pledge to come back and complete the trip, or start it again.

After much wine and food and wandering the city, we head back to the hotel.  We see that there are loads more bikes in the bin area - about nine road bikes with various designs and types of things bolted on for carrying small bags. Just like we took to Paris on our previous trip. We then meet a crowd of German guys, who are also touring.  They are cycling from St Petersburg to Lisbon in Portugal.  They started the trip about eight years ago, and every year they tackle a stage - two weeks at a time - so as to fit around family and work commitments.  They've made it as far as Lyon and it's from here they'll start again next year.

It leaves us with even more ideas for next time…….

So as far as the journal goes, this is pretty much where it ends.

As it turns out the journey home won't be as straightforward as we'd hope, involving expensive cab rides to Decathlon, taking our bikes to bits, and switching to a plane rather than a train.  But we don't know that yet, that's tomorrow.  Tonight we really just have to enjoy the fact that we made it this far, enjoy what turns out to be the beautiful city of Lyon, and celebrate the achievement.

Google Earth Track

It's been an amazing adventure for both of us.  Thirteen days and 575.6 miles.

At times it's been exhilarating, and amazing, and at times exhausting, gruelling and even painful.  We've (mostly!) enjoyed each others company,   and although our feelings about camping have been mixed from this trip, it's opened up new possibilities.  We've seen a huge amount of the French countryside and it's cities, towns and villages, and met some lovely people along the way.  Apart from a few little scrapes and near misses, we've had a safe trip and we've learnt a lot about cycle touring.  I for one have learnt that I'm probably not a solo tourer, for me it would be too lonely.  I've also learnt that the scenery and weather is as important, or more important, than the cycling itself.  And that maybe just a bit of training beforehand, as well as some nutrition planning, might be a good idea.

We're already planning another big journey.

Until next time!

Retrospective Write Up: Day 12 - Thursday 23rd September, 2010

Day 12 - Thursday 23rd September, 2010 

Charlieu > l'Arbresle

53.8 miles

5:55 moving time, 9.1 mph moving average

Tents are soaking with condensation again this morning.  After a serious dry off with the towels (we both hate this bit), we decide to leave them up to dry a bit more and head into town for breakfast and the bike shop.

The guy said he'd be open at 8am, but by 8:45 it's still locked up and there's no sign of life anywhere.  Check the shop - nothing.  Oh well, guess we'll do that later then.

Coffee/croissant/supermarket supplies.

Am still amazed that I felt 'normal' again yesterday, especially considering it was a day of lots of climbs.  I just don't know what happened the day before.  I put it down to food or complete tiredness or something, and hope that it's all behind me.  Still a bit embarrassed since John's been totally fine.

Back at camp we pack down just before the sun comes up over the horizon, and head to try the bikeshop again.  This time, he's open and he's busy in the workshop.  Neither of us mention the 8am thing and he grabs John a new tyre, and sets to work fixing the now quite buckled wheel.  He works at the speed off light.  He doesn't even bother taking the panniers off, he just hauls each bike onto the workstand fully loaded!

He has a look at my rear derailler which has been playing up a bit the last couple of days  - 'jumping' gear for a few seconds every now and again - and I just don't seem to able to set the tension right.  A fiddle and a bit of WD40 and lube, he thinks it's fixed.   It's still a bit twitchy, but hopefully I can trim it out later - not so easy on this bike since (for reasons known only to Shimano), they've only put a barrel adjuster on the front shift lever.  I assume this is so you end up buying a better set later on? The front derailler's of my bikes have never needed adjusting while out riding, it's always the rear since it's a finer adjustment and it takes knocks.  Unless you've got a bikestand, it's easiest to just tweak it on the barrel adjuster as you ride. Adjusting at the derailed end means you have to keep getting on and off to fine tune it to get it right.  Rant over.

The mechanic also tries to break off that pesky plastic disk.  His English is OK and he says he's no idea why manufacturers bother putting them on.  I believe the word merde comes out.  What's left of it is actually pretty strong and it takes a few tools and cutters to get it off.  Job done.  No more squeaks.

With a new stock of inner tubes, a new tyre, a trued wheel, a tweaked rear derailler, one less disk, and a general re-lube, we're about ready to go.  My bike tips over on it's stand - again - and everything in the bar bag goes flying out into the road.  Great.  No damage done though, and before long it's all back in place, and we're actually off.

As we leave we see a poster for a big airshow.  Maybe that's what those people at the cafe were here for?  We'll never know.

So, it's a later start than anticipated, but that always seems the way on camping days.

It's hot, and we go straight into climbs, and a long steep climb to 1,200 feet.

Still going up

It's pretty relentless, and we laugh about it as we go. Each day we make a point of giving an award to a climb that we think is the new winner for steepest/hardest/longest climb of the trip so far.  This gets the first award of the day.

The countryside is absolutely spectacular though, and the sun's out.  This is what cycling's all about.

A few roads are busier today with logging lorries, but mostly quiet.  A couple of impatient drivers today for some reason. Although there's not much on the road a couple of people take offence to the few seconds we've held them up.  Shame as in general the traffic's been really good to us, and people tend to take more care and pass with more distance and at a slower speed than in the UK.  Maybe we've just been lucky so far?

We climb again and again.  We're sweating buckets and it's the hardest cycling I've ever done.  It's enjoyable at the same time though (not like 2 days ago, that was another thing altogether), and it really feels like we're on a proper tour.

No sign of the top

We take on water everywhere we stop, and we get through tonnes of it.  We're soaked through.

We stay on one road for a while and we get the feeling we've been climbing for a long time.  We climb and climb.  It's a long, steady gradient, and the feet are spinning quite quickly at times as we drop into the lowest we've got.  We're glad we've had a couple of weeks to get fit as if we'd hit this at the start of the trip we'd never have made it up.  Not that we know where 'up' is.  We joke that it will carry on around the corner at the end of the bit we can see, and sure enough it does.  And again.  And next time. And another award.

We spin down for a while, and then…  up we go again, some really steep stuff into an absolutely beautiful village, and we pop into a local tabac to get some water and have a cold drink.  The village is on an extremely steep hill itself and of course the shop's nearer the top.  We've earned this drink!

It's really hot now, and the ice cold orange makes a welcome change from warm water.  I don't think I've ever sweated so much and am glad I have re-hydration-thingy tablets in the water.  I must absolutely stink as I catch a whiff of myself every now and again!   Mmmm.

While we drink and take a break, a huge grasshopper (?) flies over and sits on my saddle.  I've never seen anything like it.  He's a big fella.  He flies away a bit later, looking slightly out of control.

Sunbathing

The elderly lady fills our bottles and asks us where we're headed.  She says "It's all downhill from here".  When we tell her what we we're doing she adds that we we're mad/brave.  Not the first time.

Maybe she'd forgotten about a few hill details, or maybe we really are foolish to just let the Garmin's guide us 40 or 50 miles at a time with scant consideration for the terrain, but we were in for a surprise.

The 'all downhill fro here' seems to be just ever so slightly incorrect.  In fact, it very much seems like an 'all uphill'.  We've been on the same road for what seems like an hour, and all we seem to have done is go up, and up, and up.  Many awards are given, and we laugh and practically go into hysterics as the road seems to be endless, with the gradient never letting up. There's the odd even steeper section, and the odd section where the road gets busier and we go in a cycle lane on the edge.  We lie down at the side of the road a few times to catch our breath and rest.  Then back on.

Amazing views

We don't see another cyclist for a long time, then someone speeds past us coming down the other way and they look to be enjoying themselves a lot more than we are.  Food and drink stop.  Eat every and anything we've got, including two mars bars we bought at a petrol station earlier in the day.

We stop for a 'photo-off'

This is certainly the longest climb either of us has ever done.  We stop to take some photos after what feels like the whole day going up (it isn't, in reality) and a few cars bib their horns.  We're not sure what we've done so we ignore it  - a bit bemused.  Now curving round into more of a climb, we're sure it will level off but it doesn't and we head up into a section we saw from miles back and hoped we wouldn't end up in.  More cars sound their horns and we get a bit paranoid.  Is something hanging off the bikes?  Are we not meant to be on this road?  There's a cycle track so we're sure that's not it.

We keep going, really having to find some power from somewhere.

There ahead, finally, after guessing wrong so many times, we see the road looking like it might be levelling out, and going over the ridge.

This could be the top!

We see a sign that says 'Col du Pilon  727m' and realise that we've routed over one of the highest points we could have picked!

At the top.

We've researched the Alps and seen a lot of people's website journals of their tours, so we know 727 metres isn't the highest peak in the world.  But for us it's the biggest climb we've ever done and we're really proud of the achievement.  A few more people beep their horns, and it finally dawns on us that they're beeps of encouragement or congratulations.  I feel like a silly boy, I'm so happy.

Our hotel's quite a few miles on, so I joke that it could be downhill all the way.

Then we get one of the longest, most beautiful downhills we've ever done.

It's really magical, with quite steep drops down to our right, and hints of views right down to the valley.  It makes us ride well clear of the edge a bit as it's quite unnerving even with a railing.  All the road traffic must have peeled off somewhere because very few cars seem to be at the top section.

It's dream-like really.  Just amazing cycling and my hands get pretty tired of holding the brakes to control speed.

We pass a car sitting at a lay-by, and sitting inside, the driver looks very surprised to see us.  He then gives a huge smile and waves at us with both his arms as if to give us a cheer!  I guess not many loaded-up tourers come through this way?

The wind's really in our ears, and we roll nearly all the way to the hotel.  We're careful to make sure we don't miss it as there's practically nowhere to stay in this area, and we don't want to have to come back uphill again to search.

We've come down from about 2200 feet to about 800 feet, and feeling elated we turn off for the hotel, and smile with joy.

We pull up outside, right where the GPS said it was and head to reception.  The doors are shut so we ring the bell.  As we stand and wait we notice a sign on the door.  It takes a few secedes to translate, and John is quicker.  But the message is the same.  Closed for 2 weeks for holiday!  It's another week before it's back open.  OMG.  That's not what we were hoping for.

Sorry, we're closed!

A man appears inside and comes out to see us.  There's no way we're staying here he says - it's properly closed.  He knows the other local B&B is full.  Oh dear.  It's about 13 miles to the town where there's another hotel he knows of, and he phones ahead for us.  He says 'it rolls well - as long as we take the long way round, and don't try and cut across'.

Feeling just a little bit stupid for not phoning earlier to check, we take some extra directions and get on with it.  It's cooler and into evening now, and we haven't really got much energy in reserve for this mission. On the hilly terrain, we only did 20 miles since lunch, and we're tired. No choice though, and as time's short and this section of the road's getting busy again, we kick on.  We don't really want to ride in the dark.

Tired.

Stupid.

It does roll well as it turns out, but not quite as well as we'd like.

We wouldn't want to come back this way, it seems like an even longer climb.  You'd need some real guts.

We see a campsite sign but we know storms are forecast tonight and we only want to do it as a last resort.

The man's route has us go level with the town and then side-track across to it, rather than direct.  After ignoring a couple of turn-offs, we see another one and decide we'll chance it.

After slogging it up a steep climb, and with no idea how much further it will continue, we abandon it and go back to the track he had us on.  Much better.  Derailler's still causing problems, skip, skip, skip.  Urgh.

After riding on another couple of long, smooth roads, dusk approaches as we finally near the town.  Visibility is fading, so when both Garmin's say something different we don't know what to do.  Which direction?

We pick one, and as it turns out it's the wrong one.  It's a small track that's so steep I can hardly keep the front wheel on the ground.  I nearly come off as I slip into the wrong gear and struggle to control the bike.  I get back on, and nearly come off again trying to start from stationary.  I give up and push the damn thing up the rest of the hill.  John stands up and manages it.

It's 'magic hour' now, and we're at the top of the steep hill, in a sleepy village and it's beautiful.  So is this the place?  Apparently not, there's a bit further to go but it must be up here somewhere.  Right?

Wrong.  It's further on, and right back down on further along on the road we came from - so there was no need to do the climb after all.  Not the first time.  Thanks Garmin - another fine bit of routing logic.

The town's a lot bigger than we expected, so with no other information than the name of the town, we wonder how we'll find the right hotel.  And now it's pitch black.

It becomes clear after querying a few locals, that there's only one hotel, and it's 'up the road'.  We're surprised there's only one hotel because it's quite a big place and looks historic, so should be tourism.  But it doesn't matter we're here and it looks like a nice place.

Sadly, 'up the road' turns out to be over a mile, right on the edge of town, and slap bang in the middle of a horrible industrial estate type area.  Great.

It turns out he's sent us to another hotel of the same chain so most probably there were other options on the way.  Oh well, it's late, we're tired and hungry, and we're here.

It's expensive and pretty horrible.  A depressing place, and my room smells really awful, all mouldy.

We do some serious clothes washing, which turns the bathwater brown, and then eat at the restaurant as there's nowhere else to go or get to.  It's a set menu.  It's not great food.

We have a couple of beers and do some planing for tomorrow.  It's going to be wet so we get all the gear ready.  We try and pick a route through Lyon although we're not sure of the best way.  We don't know if it will be quicker to go in and out on the major routes, or to skirt round.  Sometimes skirting round means you're just stuck in the horrible outskirts for a long time, so there's no real benefit, but going in might be a lot of traffic. On this schedule we decide to skirt.

Download cameras and videos and get some kip for tomorrow.

We're getting close now.  If we can make beyond Lyon tomorrow, then it's on to Grenoble and the Alps.  We haven't got a definite route through the Alps, so I email Russell at the Grenoble cycling pages website and ask for help.  I've looked through it for initial research but forgot to send the message before the trip, so figure it's worth trying now.  He's got huge experience of cycling in the Alps and there's a good forum and readership.  Fingers crossed.

We congratulate each other again on a good days riding.

Hold nose to try and block out smell of room, and drift off.

Next Day

Retrospective Write Up: Day 11 - Wednesday 22nd September, 2010

Day 11 - Wednesday 22nd September, 2010 

Dompierre-san-Besbre > Charlieu

42.9 miles

4:30 moving time, 9.5 mph moving average

Quite a few more people around this morning.  John's already had breakfast as I woke up a bit late (clearly needed the sleep), so I head to his recommendation from this morning.  A nice croissant and some bread in a bakers/patisserie.  He joins me and we watch the world go by through the window.  I can't quite tell how I feel physically.

We checkout of the hotel.  We ask the miseryguts of a lady from last night - since she's standing beside her bar - if we can fill up our water bottles.  She tells us there's a supermarket next door.  Charming.  And thank you Logis hotels chain for maintaining such exceptional standards.

So, we go to the shop.  I also stock up on vitamins and some kind of sore muscle tablets that neither of us can really be sure what they are exactly.

John prepares for some picture taking of the rolling hills.

The sun's out already thanks to my making us have a very late start, and soon we're back into beautiful rolling countryside.  I feel sooooo much better today as it turns out.  In fact I feel so good I can hardly believe yesterday happened.  Yeah, the legs are tired and a bit sore, but that's just normal.  They're nothing like yesterday.  I feel a sense of hope, but I ask to set a slightly more modest pace anyway.

It looks flat.  But it isn't.  Honest.

We cross the Loire again, unexpectedly, and it's a bit narrower here.

Our favourite river. Again

Thank goodness I'm feeling better now because we're into some proper hills.  Not necessary all big, but constantly up and down, and some of it steep.  But at this pace, things still seem OK.  In fact I've got a slight feeling of euphoria knowing that I'm out of the stupor of yesterday.

As it turns out we're in for a bit of a climb.  But it's never just up, we're straight back down and then climbing again.  While the downs are exhilarating, they're not that enjoyable as we know all we're going to do is climb back up.

Is that the Massif Centrale?

We pass some big white cows.  No idea what breed or anything but they're really beautiful.  We see a bull, and neither of us can help talking about the size of his balls - which are absolutely enormous!  We feel sorry for him having to carry them around.

See what we mean?

Lunch at a bizarre village cafe that's super-busy and doesn't seem to fit with the size of the tiny village.  Maybe it's a hotel?  As we tuck into omelettes and salad, we hear people talking.  They're all keen on the subject of World War II fighter pilots, and some are pilots themselves, and they're English.  We leave them to it, but am curious as to what they're here for.  The owner fills up our water and when we tell him what we're up to we don't get the usual look of surprise.  He says his friend has just cycled to China!

Rolling hillside expands and we're on a few more slightly steep climbs.  And again and again, and again.  Oh, and again.  We knew we were skirting along the edge of what we think is the Massif Centrale (we're not entirely sure but we can see huge hills off to our side, just slightly on the egde of track), but we didn't know exactly what we'd be in for on our route.

Passing a pretty little village at the 'top' of a hill later on, we pull into a cute little bakers.  No one's here, so I press the bell.  After a while a man appears and I order some bread and water in my basic French. He asks in perfect English if I'm English.  It turns out he moved out here years ago and is the only person specialising in rye breads rather than more traditional French breads.  He then fills up our bottles where the water we bought wasn't quite enough.  He talks us into a buying a brownie, but to be fair he didn't have to try too hard.  What a place to move to, the views are superb.  When we ask about the lack of shops he says the French have all switched to going to supermarkets in the car so mostly all you see now is slightly worse for wear local supermarkets if you're lucky.  That's definitely our experience.

Moving on we climb again, and before 'long' we see 1,652 feet on the GPS, which we think's the highest we've gone yet.

And we keep going up.

And down.

And it's hot again.

And up.

We stay around this altitude for a while, up and down.  You can't beat the views that's for sure.

Those same hills in the distance

After a stop for a few pics of the views we glide down a very long descent.  I'm out front, and I keep it sensible-ish and keep the speed under control while enjoying the free ride.  But I do get a decent pace on.  I really wouldn't want to come off at high speed and you need quite a bit of extra brake with all the weight giving huge momentum.  The wind's in my ears and it's amazing - after so many exhausting slogs its nice to get a really good long descent.

At the bottom I stop and drink and am surprised not to see John.  He's very rarely far behind.  But we were going quite fast so maybe he dropped back a bit to space us out.

I hang out a bit longer, and there's a tinge of concern now.  Still no sign.  I wait even longer and now my heart's racing a bit and I'm worried.  What if he's come off?  There were a few nasty bumps and holes that I went over.  I decide something's happened, get back on my bike and start slamming it back up the hill.  I don't even think about how steep it is.  After quite some minutes powering up, I see John coming round the corner - walking.

He calls out.  He's OK.  He's got a puncture!

Thank god for that.  That he's OK I mean.

It's that back wheel again, and this time there's a big thorn sticking out of it - so much for the shortcut to get a good photo.  The repair gear comes out, and the wheel comes off.  Still, it's nice and warm and a good spot to fix it.

Nice spot for it

Final inner tube though!

Repaired, but both concerned about the state of the tyre which will barely stay on the rim, we head towards the campsite which isn't that far away now.  Hopefully it will stay together.  We also hope the final section of the route stays relatively flat as we're pretty tired.  We can see a river on the gps, and the route we've chosen follows it, so fingers crossed.

We're right, we get a very slight descent all the way to the town of Charlieu.  As we get into the centre, we're amazed.  We just can't believe it.  Can it be true after all these miles/days/weeks? Is this the best timing or what?

Right next to us is a bike shop.

A proper local bike shop, with a workshop and a range of bikes from new road bikes to tourers, mountain bikes and kids bikes.  It's early evening and a man comes over from the bar next door.  It's his shop and he says he's got everything we need, he can do it now or in the morning.  As we're camping tonight we opt for the morning since he's there from 8am.

We ride to the campsite, which is walking distance to town, and setup.  Its a big municipal and a few people are cooking evening meals outside their campers.  Not many tents, but nice pitches.

The shower story I'll leave out today.  Suffice to say, another ingenious design - but at least hot.

We're a bit more worried about the bikes and gear here, as it's a bigger town, and we're right next to the stadium, reasonably in sight and a football practice is in progress.  We lay them down and put them near a bush and lock them together.

The town's really pretty and lively as well.  Just the right size.  The first restaurant we see we ask what time they close and the waiter looks at us like we're mad.  "What time do you want to eat?" he says, confused as to why we asked!  So not everywhere closes early.  There's hope.  There are loads more places, some open some not, but in the end we go back where we started and have a great meal.  And wine.  There's some funky music playing (in a good way).  This town's a bit more fashionable, or maybe it's just how far south we are now.  Whatever it is, we're happy.

Legs are sore, but I hope that yesterdays event was an isolated incident, and having scoffed down a huge amount of fish and other protein and carbs, plus more protein at lunch, I feel like I've had two good meals in a row.

We take advantage of the campsite's wifi to do a bit of Skype, then hit the sack.

I wake up during the night with sore legs, but soon get back to sleep.  Even the over-bright lighting of the campsite can't keep me awake tonight.

Day 11 takes us to 483 miles.

Next Day

Retrospective Write Up: Day 10 - Tuesday 21st September, 2010

Day 10 - Tuesday 21st September, 2010 

Marseille-les-Aubigny > Dompierre-san-Besbre

65.9 miles

6:05 moving time, 10.8 mph moving average

It felt amazing waking up in a Chateau.  I got up early and snapped the sunrise from the window.  There's some fog in the distance - probably from the canal and the Loire.

What a view to wake up to

Breakfast is amazing.  It's prepared by the owners and served in the house in a very grand dining room.  We realise that the man who met us last night is actually the owner, and he and his wife live here - having inherited the property many years ago.  The B&B pays for some of the renovations and upkeep, and according to them they've still got a long way to go.  It's quite hard work for them as they've been at it for 31 years already.  But that's in their part of the house - where we've been staying, and where we're now eating, is amazing.  It truly has to be the best value stay we've had, and one of the best value stays I've ever had in Europe.

John says farewell to our host

After a little chat, and having piled in as much food as we could (there was still more if we wanted it) we get on our way.  John's tyre's flat as it turns out - must be a slow puncture - so we decide to pump it up and head to the canal where we ate last night.  I can buy supplies while he investigates/fixes.

We hadn't even gone half a mile before we were back at the village - by the canal and pizza place from last night - but as soon as I started pedalling I knew something wasn't quite right with my body today.  I literally felt like I had no energy whatsoever, and my legs just didn't seem to be my own.  I could barely will them to turn the pedals, and even a slight incline seemed hard.  Uh oh.  This is going to be fun.

The fog layer's amazing

I head over the canal to grab some supplies while John sets up workshop at a picnic bench.

Loaded with a few food supplies, I see the Swiss couple we met in Jargeau coming towards me.  They stop and say hello, and wave to John across the water.  At that moment there's a really loud, bang - sounds like a gun's gone off.  The Swiss man looks over at John holding the wheel, laughs, and says "And he starts again".  Having repaired the inner tube there was still a problem and it blew when pumped up.  The Swiss couple celebrated their half way point last night, and went on their way looking very cheery and pleased with themselves.  We wished them well.

Bike mechanic's temporary HQ

John wasn't the least bit amused, and says that it was REALLY loud where he was standing!  There might be a bit of temporary hearing loss.  Thankfully we've got a couple of inner tubes between us, but he decides to get a patch on the original tube to preserve the last new one.  It seems to hold, finally, but it looks like the tyre's shot - it's old and really loose on the rim.  Ooops, we ain't got a spare one of those.  John's a bit concerned about it, but we don't have any choice but to ride on it.  We haven't seen a single bike shop on the whole trip.  Apart from in Paris on the last trip (and we had to hunt for it), we haven't seen a single bike shop in France.  So things aren't looking too good for finding a replacement.
The lack of bike shops has been another real surprise and mystery considering how big cycling is (or was) in France.

The boating types head to the lock

Wheel sorted, and me thankful for the slow start, we move on.

I'm in trouble.  I literally don't know how I'm going to get through today.  Considering how little we've done, I feel quite emotional about the situation already.  I'm really struggling but I don't want to hold us up either, as John seems fine.

It's hard to describe how I feel as I ride, but I am totally and utterly power-less.  Sapped of any energy and therefore enthusiasm.  I really have to grit my teeth and am not enjoying it at all.

It's a hot day now, and the scenery is lovely, but I struggle with every mile and already it's one of the worst days I've ever had on a bike.  I'm barely looking at anything.  I start to have a meltdown about not making it to the end.

After lunch by the canal, our time along the Loire has come to an end, which has an extra emotional impact.  I thought it was amazing and am sad to say goodbye to it.  I'll come back and do the whole thing another time I think to myself.  As we break away from the river, the countryside changes to a slightly rolling hills.  I couldn't have wished for a worse day for this to come.

I've never experienced anything like this before.  The bike seems to weigh a tonne, and it's like I'm not in my own body.

I totally lose my sense of humour at this point, or at least the part I had left.  I'm not happy.  This is now a real chore and there are even a couple of points where I feel a few tears trying to escape.  I try and grit my teeth and get on with it.  Now into a light headwind and thinking of the end.  Unfortunately for John, I'm starting to moan about it.  I think I'm driving him a bit mad, but it's not deliberate.  Suddenly I'm hating this trip.

Things are very rural again now.  It's beautiful but in the heat and climbs we've ended up running out of water again.  How did we let it happen?

There are so few shops in villages around here, and we're feeling pretty dehydrated.

Finally we call into a town hall and ask if the lady knows when the local shop will be open.  She even comes out and has a quick look with us but she thinks maybe he's closed for the afternoon.  Like an angel, she offers us a refill form the kitchen behind her office, and we gladly accept.  It's ice cold too and we can't get enough.

There's also a slightly rundown freestanding toilet facility built in the square - which seems totally out of place for this pretty village - but it comes in very handy.

I've had a bit on my mind the last few days. I've been worried about getting to the end - not because of fitness (at least up until this morning) - but because I was always locked into an end date to go to one of my best friends wedding in Scotland.  With the various delays in setting off, it's made the timing very tight.  Pretty much no days off for the rest of the trip, and harder days too.

I could head back at Grenoble if running out of time but we both really wanted to do the Alps - in fact that's the key part of the trip for us.  Cutting a section and 'cheating' on the train is sort of an option, but that starves John of the chance to do the whole trip, and it was sort of his idea so it doesn't really seem fair.  There's still a possibility I can make it, but I just don't want to be stuck somewhere between Grenoble and Cannes in the middle of the Alps, and then realise I don't have time to finish.  Getting back to the UK quickly (even direct to Scotland if I had to) seems pretty impractical from the Alps.  So with the timing tight already, today isn't making me feel good about it.

This worry combined with all the physical symptoms of the day has made me miserable.  For the first time on this trip I need a couple of Nurofen's to keep the pedals turning.

The digging deep hit a new level of low in what's turning out to be one of our longest days, but after what seems like an eternity we finally reach our destination of Dompierre-San-Besbre.  Agreeing with our guidebook, there are big signs saying the campsites are closed.

There are only a few hotels, and the first one we see right at the top of the hill looks ok.  But we'd already called ahead to a different one so we head there - it sounded quite nice, and this is five Euros more expensive.  It's a long freeride downhill to get to the other hotel and we know as soon as we arrive that it's going to be horrible.  This town's not very nice from what we've seen either, but we're definitely not going any further.  The receptionist/owner barks at us when we enter, and she's as miserable as sin as we pay to check-in.  She wants the money upfront which is never a good sign.  They do lock our bikes for us though.

The rooms are horrible.  We consider checking out but are too tired. So we shower and head for food.  I'm in a bad way so this doesn't help my mood at all.  My wife has a personal trainer who was a semi-professional cyclist, so I call her and let her know what's going on and she goes off to try and get advice.  I'm sure that the lack of decent food and protein is to blame, but I don't know what I can do now to fix it.

John has a falling out with the restauranteur across the road.  Its packed but she says they're closing.  John points out that it's pretty early and everyone's eating and the sign says they close later on, but she says they're not taking any more orders.  After the standard procedure of walking the streets finding everything else closed, we end up right back at the top of the hill at the hotel we saw on arrival.  It's got a decent restaurant, and it all seems really nice.  We look at each other but we know there's no way we're lugging everything back up here to switch hotels.

I try and find some humour, but I really feel awful.  I summons the courage to tell John that I'm not sure if I can carry on, and that I don't want him to not make it to the end so I could possibly peel off along the route if I can't keep up, and then just make my way back to the UK. I say I'll see how I am tomorrow, but anything like this and I won't be able to to do another day.

I order fish, and as much protein and other foods as I can.  The food's actually French for once and is really nice.  It's a bit expensive but I don't really care at this stage.  I just need a proper meal.

As we walk back to the hotel local kids 'make out' on benches at the little square.  Thy seem harmless, just bored I guess.  And who can blame them since nothing ever seems open here.

Back at the hotel I've got a nutritional advice email come in. It seems to confirm  what I was thinking.  The advice includes, especially for a vegetarian, to carry protein bars as a backup.  Next time.  What I've eaten should cover some other stuff in the mail.  Fingers crossed.

We see a couple playing chess in the communal area in our hotel hallway.  They seem to be having a nice time, and I feel really bad and ungrateful.

Before going to bed, I get out all my gear.  Anything that's heavy and hasn't been used much goes in the bin.  Spares get thinned down, and after a quick call to check it's OK, the small but quite heavy camping stool I borrowed from my wife goes in the bin too.  I stop at clothes and anything else that's expensive but won't save much weight.  With everything trimmed it's a decent saving in total, and I know I'll need all the help I can get tomorrow.

65.9 miles brings our total at the end of day 10 to 440.1 miles.

Next Day

Retrospective Write Up: Day 9 - Monday 20th September, 2010

Day 9 - Monday 20th September, 2010 

Briare > Marseille-les-Aubigny

55.9 miles

5:10 moving time, 10.8 mph moving average

An early-ish start and another cold morning. My question of "is this weather normal for the time of year?" to the hotel owner was answered before she even spoke.  The smirk and look of disgust said it all.   "Non".  Apparently the lowest of the lows are normally around 12 degrees, not between zero and two, and we're not the only ones who are upset about it.

Still, we weren't in tents last night, the Loire was amazing yesterday, and we feel good.  A little tiredness in the legs (and bum, and back, and wrists, and neck), but nothing too much.

We never got bored of the views!

We stay on the Briare side for a bit before we cross, and the sun's out but it's not warmed up yet.  Fingers crossed this afternoon will be as hot and sunny as yesterday - still can't quite get over the temperature range we cover in one day.

This section is lacking a path surface, and we're riding on the harsh foundations - it's still being worked on and it's not all quite ready - this section's due to be finished next year we think. In fact we don't think we're even meant to be riding on it but we can't see another way round.  

Nuclear power.  Lovely spot for it.

We see another power station and again we think it's nuclear.  Later this is confirmed by a radiation symbol on a sign.  Nice.  As we said yesterday, it's just unbelievable that anyone would consider building one here.  The cooling towers and smoke stacks look amazing in their own way though.  We ride very close to it, and the path only just detours us around it.

There are quite a few more unfinished sections now, and it's hard-going on some of it.  We're obviously riding carefully not only for our safety, but because we don't want to ride the bikes to destruction - loaded up hard as they are. For the sake of man and machine, we detour off the cycle way after a couple more bone-crunching miles.

Huge nuclear power station aside, the scenery is just as amazing, and we keep stopping to look and take snaps.

We're  constantly amazed at the scenery

Sancerre is marked on the map, just off the river route.  Technically it's part of the trail.
We're in a slight dilemma as we're on a tough schedule, but at the same time it's the one place we're both familiar with from drinking enough of their wine, and we decide that it's a detour worth adding to the schedule.

Idyllic spot for fishing.

So, we're off on our pilgrimage to Sancerre.
After a few days of flat riding, what we're not prepared for in any way is that Sancerre's sits at the top of a big hill, and it's a very steep climb up.  We don't know it's vital statistics, but it looks a bit 'interesting' to say the least.  Of course had we done some research we would have known this in advance....

It's now burning hot, and after many long, gruelling minutes of pedalling, and perhaps even the odd swear word, we near the top.  It's nearly wiped us (me) out though, with my pedals having been spinning at a hundred miles an hour, and the village is still higher.  Had we known it was so high and the gradient so steep, we almost certainly wouldn't have bothered coming, considering the time pressure we're up against.

We can't resist it.  We think we earned it.

Once we're up there we're glad we did though as the views are amazing.  We grab a quick lunch of salads - after a bit of confusion with the order where my vegetarian goats cheese came with a load of ham, which John kindly took over and swapped mine for his.  It's expensive and touristy but the view from the outside table is great.

It's an expensive lunch and not the best.  The waitress literally seems to hate us with a passion for some reason and treats us with contempt.  Deep down we'd both been dreaming of a posh vineyard lunch with beautiful wine tasting, but that hasn't happened and we didn't have time to search for it anyway.  Need to get some more miles done.  Another trip....

Like a crazed fool, I cycle back up to the post office near the top of the hill so I can send my wife a postcard from Sancerre, and John comes along too - probably because he feels sorry for me on my extra pilgrimage.  Legs feel pretty tired now.  Burning in fact.

As we leave a the village we take a backroad that I can't believe cars can possibly use.  Its so steep we crawl down at a snails pace - fully on the brakes.  The view of Sancerre and surrounding area on the way back down is amazing. You can see right across the valley and down the Loire river.  Really beautiful.

You can see for miles.  Is that more hills in the distance?

The sun's fairly fierce, and we empathise with the heavily loaded female tourer climbing hard as we speed past her on our descent.  But we're on the way down!  Woohooo!

The view out across the vineyards on the way down.

Back on the path south, and a few more bone shakers of unsurfaced roads.

Something's broken on my bike but it's only a plastic disc by the cassette.  It's come loose and is rubbing and making an unsettling noise.  Will break it off as soon as I can as it's unnecessary anyway - couple of grams saved.

Back on a surfaced track in the afternoon we're hot and we've run out of water.  We kept thinking we'd pass a village shop, but all villages are a bit off-route and the one we detoured into had nothing like a shop.

At the next village a lady in her driveway directs us 3 miles to the nearest town/shop when we asked where we could get water.  We certainly didn't expect it but if I saw two cyclists in the burning heat and having run out of water I might have offered to fill a bottle up from my sink.  C'est la vie.

We're not desperate as we're in civilisation but it's not nice being really thirsty and I wonder how it would feel in the wilderness.

John loses some layers and we contemplate the water situation

A few miles later and a few euros later, we had some bottled water, which was really cold and hit the spot. Who would have thought the afternoons could be so much hotter than the mornings.... from jumpers and numb fingers, to 50 block in the afternoon each day for the last 2 days.

At Marseille-les-Aubigny, resting by the canal, we decide it might be a good idea to try and find somewhere to sleep since there aren't any campsites near, we don't want to camp anyway as it's still cold, and we know accommodation isn't as easy to find we originally thought.  After wading through some leaflets from the helpful Mairie (Town Hall), and a few confusing phone calls later, we're booked into a Chateau!  Well, at least we think we are, and it's a mile or so away so we hope we are.

We pull up to what is an impressive building and meet the man from the phone.  He says we've basically got it to ourselves as it's a bit out of season.  The rooms are enormous and absolutely gorgeous, and we really have got a whole floor of a wing to ourselves.  With no sight of the owners or anyone, we take in the rooms - somehow arriving here dirty and sweaty with a load of panniers seems a bit wrong but we love it!  And ironically, its pretty much the cheapest place we've stayed so far.  The man books us a place to eat (there's only one place within cycling distance), and after a shower we head there - armed with torches and lights as it's going to be a dark ride back.

'Roughing it' for the night at Chateauvert.

As luck would have it, it's a pizza place!  Really, another pizza?  It feels like Pizza is the staple 'open out of season' restaurant in most villages and towns in the whole of France!  What's that all about?  My visions of beautiful, healthy, French food is fading fast. I was hoping for a nutritious meal as I feel like I've been lacking protein and other good things for recovery, but not tonight.

It's a tiny place and the owners are very friendly, and the four very posh English people at the table next to us talk loudly about their boating issues of the day, while we sample the local wines - including a Sancerre.  So they're on the canal we guess.

A pitch black ride back (feeling slightly warmed from the drinks) leaves me wondering how my legs will be tomorrow as they're not seeming to want to climb the mini-hill back to the chateau.  Oh well, sleep ahoy.

Would need ten pictures to capture the scale of the room

Next Day

Retrospective Write Up: Day 8 - Sunday 19th September, 2010

Day 8 - Sunday 19th September, 2010 

Jargeau > Briare

41.7 miles

3:40 moving time

Ouch, that was a cold night, about zero.  The gear held up well, and it wasn't too cold (wouldn't want to go too much lower though).

Another cold morning at camp

Neither of us can believe quite how soaked everything is.  The tents deserve a new award for the amount of moisture they've managed to hold on every available surface.

Moisture.                                             More moisture.

Packing up's pretty miserable.  Just walking to the loo and back, and walking around the tent to start drying it, my shoes and socks are soaked through and my feet are freezing.  My hands are now freezing too and I have to wring my super-micro-thingy towel out about three times just dealing with one surface of condensation.  Nice - I've got to dry myself with that tomorrow!  Even the inner's quite wet today, and I felt a few drops on me last night too, so it's not perfect.  It needs detaching so I can get in there and do even more drying.  Performing the same exercise, John's not the least bit happy about it either, and I feel a bit sorry for him as I think his initial big enthusiasm for camping wasn't based on the realities of actually camping, and has now severely wained.  But I can't talk, I'm being a wuss as well.

We practically spend half the morning getting out of camp.  Even the bikes were soaked, and thankfully I remembered to put the carrier bag on my saddle.

The scene while packing down.

Back in the village we can't believe it's so busy compared to the evening before.  Where does everyone go in France in the evenings?  Last night it was deserted, but now it seems we're the last ones up and out for breakfast.

Looking a bit like a couple of hobos, we sit in the sun at a cafe, drinking our coffees and eating croissants, while all around us our clothes are drying. I've changed socks and have my wet pair on the chair next to me.  Sorry everyone.

The warming up bit takes ages, and we're not going anywhere until we're filled with a bit more joy.  We must look like a pair of grumpy old men.  Oh, we are a pair of grumpy (not so old) men. I don't think we're going to be camping tonight somehow.

Grumps

There are quite a few other cycle tourists around, and the bikes begin to stack up. A Swiss couple say hello.  They're doing a similar distance to what we've planned, but they're going East to West, rather than South.  They both looked well kitted out (we spot the Rolhoff hubs), and they seem a bit happier than us - probably because they're staying in B&Bs, but they're cold and they say they've been cycling in freezing fog from Orleans this morning.

By about 11 we'd warmed up and dried out a bit and feeling better we get on our way as the Swiss couple get ready to go.   We buy a couple of little bottles of water, and as we're pouring them into our bottles, a man leans out of the cafe window and offers to fill them all up for us.  That's really nice.  Bikes are definitely a bit more part of the culture here in general - but especially in this region.

A bit of kayaking on the Loire

The path we found kind of stopped at Jargeau, but we know where we're heading, so we go straight up into a park, on unsurfaced roads.  It's quite exciting riding, and pretty off-road actually.  The bikes seem to hold up, and it feels great (if not maybe just a little bit silly) to be putting them through their paces. The river's just alongside us through the trees but we can't see it properly.  A clearing appears, and we leave the track and head to the rivers edge.  As the view opens up, we can't quite believe we're in France.  We walk across a wide river bank of sand, with bushes and trees popping out of it, until we finally hit the water.  It's quite hot in the sun now, and it feels more like Africa than France.  It actually brings back memories of Safari, and if I'd been transplanted here and asked to guess where I was I would never have said France.  Not in a  million years.  Truly beautiful.  Despite the start, this is turning out to be the best cycling day ever, and it's only about lunchtime.

It's just beautiful...

...wherever you stop

A few more miles of slightly bone-shuddering surface leads us to a park bench right on the Loire.  Perfect -   time for lunch!  Time for a spot of laundry and drying too.

Lunch and a spot of drying

As we tuck into more bread and cheese, and some (about half the packet of) Micaodo biscuits and other supplies we picked up in Chartres, I notice that the 50 block suncream I decided to use today has caught loads of flies, and as usual, I look pretty rough.  I manage to wipe a few off.

The next most vivd memory is some miles on, where, now baking hot we pull into a village that has a solitary cafe, and we seriously need something cold to drink like a couple of Orangina's.  Even with flavoured tablets in the water, there's only so much warm water you can take.  The pair of guys sitting outside are a bit moody and off-putting.  The owner's not much friendlier.  Maybe we've come at a bad time.  But none of that is really a problem compared to the fact that where we're sitting it absolutely stinks of (what we can only assume is) cat wee.  We move away but with even the slightest of a breeze it reeks.  We gulp down the drinks and move on pronto.

Sully is marked on the velo map, with a symbol of a chateau.  We cycle to it and it's really beautiful. It's so nice we devote an official ten minutes (nearly) to get a few nice photos and a quick video.  Going in's not really an option on this schedule.  So many sights just sail past us,  but if you want to cover ground in a short-ish space of time, you need to keep moving.  Another trip.  As we leave Sully, there are a load more classic cars, as well as archers shooting at bizarre targets of life-sized cartoon animals - giraffes etc - along the river bank.  We hope the arrows are fake as some zing past pretty close to us, but they seem to hit the target.  More further along.  We laugh - thankfully health and safety hasn't ruined good old fashioned fun in France.  This lot would be pounced on in a second in the UK.

Chateau Sully

We see what looks like a nuclear power station ahead.  Wow!  Who the hell decided to put it there?  It's no wonder this area is getting near to the end of the official cycle path, with quite a few sections still in progress.  We both agree they need to plant some huge trees along the track to try and hide it.  Or maybe get a few more wind farms in and shut it down.  We've got loads of electrical gadgets that need charging, so we can hardly say we don't need power, but why nuclear, and why at the edge of a world heritage site?  Come on France.  Sort out the camping showers, and sort out these nukes.

There's been a mix of roads and cycle paths (or a bit of a combo) so far, but we seem to be pretty-much all on cycle path now.  And most of the time we get an amazing view of the river, which never gets tiring.

We leave the trail and head into Briare.  The route in is over an aquaduct (or viaduct?), and it's really beautiful.  I get the wobbles as I cycle along the path, sandwiched between the railings and a long drop to the river, pedestrians, and the canal on the right. I go all weird and feel like I'm really unbalanced and I'll come off.  On day one I felt a bit out of balance with a heavy bar bag, but not now, the bike felt really natural ten seconds ago.  Never had that before.  I start thinking what would happen if I went in, and then couldn't clip out of my pedals.  Not sure how those thoughts managed to ruin my view, but there you go.  John, immune to whatever weirdness gripped me, tears over it as pedestrians clear out of his way.

An amazing way to cross the river.

We find a small hotel, cheap-ish rather than cheap, but it does the job and it's actually quite nice with bike storage shed, and a bar.

We know the drill so we rush out to try and catch somewhere open, and after being told a few places were closing, we found something.

It's a cold walk back, and while trying to do some planning and backing stuff up to the laptop while having a beer or two, we get chucked out of the bar which closes as ten when the owner goes to bed.

Having not had a chair to sit in in the evening for a few days, we're a bit peeved as we thought we had an evening of 'luxury'. But the lady has to sleep, so we call it a day and do the same.

A short day, but an amazing one, and one to remember.  Total at the end of day eight, 318.3 miles - by far the longest ride we've ever done.

Next Day