A Day of Being Discombobulated - Coulon to Pons

You may be able to tell that we spent most of this day disorientated due to the paucity of miles we covered. We woke and tried to get breakfast at the campsite, but we were either too late or too early (most likely too late). So just as we were leaving we came across some touristy looking restaurant, and decided to ask the man outside if they were doing food. He spoke no English so we asked if they were open by just saying "ouvert", he nodded and beckoned us over. I then asked "mange" (with some hand motioning towards my mouth) to make sure they were doing food. He then told us what they had to offer, which when translated by Mr Joyce was bread, butter and jam. This was all nice had our half baguette and a cup of tea. Then the bill came which was just extraordinary, apparently bread was either scarce in their area or they made it from a mixture of Rhodium and Wagyu meat. Anyway I was willing to complain, but Andy said we should just pay and get on with our cycle, I've clearly though not forgotten the annoyance I felt at this establishment!

Errm well we must have cycled without much controversy until we reached Saint Jean d'Angely, where we ended up taking a slightly wrong route into the town. My memory is a bit hazy (alcohol it seems does not embalm the brain...) because we also got lost in the next town en route Saintes, which we hit at rush hour. And it was a touristy town so it was very busy with hustle and bustle we had yet to really experience at any point on our travels. Guessing we should follow signs towards Bordeaux even though it wasn't were we wanted to go we found ourselves in some aback part of the town. Not really knowing where we were and the route I wanted to go down seemed like it was cutting its way back in a Northerly direction, where obviously we had just come from. So trying to use bus stop maps and names, we tried to work out our whereabouts. Cycling back and forth on this same road not wanting to risk going down a road that would take us miles in the wrong direction, we asked Tarrant for a "phone a friend" as we had already used our 50-50's and asking the audience didn't look like a good idea as it was in a fairly bleak area. So telling Dad what the bus stops said didn't help, because we subsequently found out that they were just the names of the bus stops not the road or area. After some considerable time we found we were on the right road and the way that I thought was the way, was the way. Evidently now and then we realised that actually planning our route before the trip, rather than the night before in the tent under torchlight, would have made things a lot easier! Also after this experience we didn't want to have to cycle through any more large towns, as we were good at getting perplexed in them.

As getting lost took up a lot of time by the time we got to Pons we were somewhat tired, hungry and fed up with the day. So instead of going to Jonzac as originally planned we stopped off in Pons. The campsite owner was a happy chappy and looked after us well, as we could chose our spot, so we had a nice bit of grass for once rather than some lumpy, hard, gravelly, rooty piece of ground. We asked if the restaurant was open that they had on the campsite, he initially pointed to the field next to us and said we could shoot some rabbits and eat them. But then after observing us decided we were emaciated and said he would open it up for us. Choosing a cheeseburger, quiche and chips each, he went off to "make" them, and we had a few cheap beers whilst we waited. When he brought them back it became apparent they were microwavable foodstuffs, thinking about how nasty the burger was now makes me feel queasy, but at the time fodder was nourishment. I am happy to report the quiches were actually quite nice, the burger though makes MaccyD burgers seem sumptuous!

Happily settling down to an early quiet night was not on the agenda, as some ragamuffin DJ in a club which loomed above the campsite was intent on keeping us awake. The constant booming bass was fine as I could drift off to it, but it was the aimless air-raid sirens he kept playing during every and any song. God that was annoying, still, probably France's most popular musician of all time...           

Route taken from Coulon to Pons via Saint Jean d'Angely and Saintes