So, anyway, this day. Leaving our goats and castle behind, we set off down some twisty hill roads, still cycling through the vineyards. Part way a couple of tractors with hedge strimmers were ploughing through the verges, kicking up tremendous amounts of dirt, grass, plastic litter. Needless to say it wasn't pleasant and had the worry of the trips first puncture occurring, thankfully we were still mechanically sound. The plan of this day was to get down to a river valley of the river Garonne (main river through Bordeaux and Toulouse). This we hoped would mean flat roads no hills, thus quick cycling. We got to La Reole where I think we could see a good view of the valley and river and followed the road down into the town. We then proceeded to cycle at a good rate, probably at about 30-35kmph, until we reached Marmande (which to Andy's growing frustration at my pronunciations of French place names) I am pretty sure I was calling the place Marmalade. Oh well, I was map reading Andy had nothing better to do, than to work out what places I meant! At Marmande we stopped at a Maccy D and sat in the blistering sun light, hoping our soaked belongings (from the day before) would dry up a bit.
As this day was meant for hard cycling there is not too much to report, other than we stopped at Aiguillon for a chafe cream stop and it had a nice tributary river, as can be seen in the photo below. The river was so clear that when I walked down to its edge I could see an abundance of fishes swimming around, lovely.
At Aiguillon, overlooking the river Lot.
Again we motored on, with not much changing regarding scenery, speed etc, but we were making good progress. By the time we made Agen we were pretty hungry and poked our heads into a few restaurants but as ever we had missed service and all the other French excuses for not feeding us. So Andy as his phoned hadn't worked for the entire trip decided to go into the Vodafone shop or Orange shop and they directed us to another phone shop which could "help" Andy. But this one was closed, he was getting a bit apoplectic about his phone not working. We cycled around the main streets of Agen for a while looking for food like a bunch of vagrants. And gave up and decided to carry on our cycle. At a roundabout there was about 1,000 exits to be vaguely precise. But one exit had a McDonalds and though we had already been blessed by one this day, we needed the food so mustered up the strength (in Andy's case) and had some more sumptuous burgers. Here Andy had the old problem of communicating with a French person even when you are speaking French. Having been taught you say "sans sauce" for no sauce, he said this to receive a blank face. After getting nowhere, a person behind him said "sans sauce" to the worker and she nodded and proceeded to finalise the order. I've been told I haven't said great things about France etc in my posts, I'm not xenophobic, I'm just telling you what has happened, anyway, sometimes they are not helpful! Back on track, after a call to pater we were told the route we needed, and cruised out on.
I can't quite remember where, but I pretty much tried to kill myself. We had stopped at a supermarket for some nibbles and had to get back onto a busy road. After waiting for a million years, I got a bit impatient. I saw a car indicating and decided it was timely to scoot out across the road. However I did not realise that the car wasn't indicating for the supermarket turning, but the turning after. So as I pulled out, if I can remember correctly I heard Joyce shout something, probably "look out." For me to then find as I looked right and car thundering towards me, turning my front wheel 90 degrees leftwards, the car past with millimetres to spare. I felt that feeling, when you know something has past you so closely that you're surprised it didn't hit you. Oddly I wasn't particularly fazed by this and didn't really get the adrenaline buzz from it that it deserved (Parents don't worry I'm not going to go around toying with fast moving vehicles!).
We reached our destination of Moissac and after cycling around the town, we found out we had missed a turning across a bridge just before the town. So we went back and navigated our way to the campsite. It was a lovely little campsite, situated right on the river bank. So we brought a pot of jam and a baguette, sat on a bench overlooking the river with the sun setting. How romantic..
Dusk at the campsite
At our bench of romance, having just enjoyed our jam and baguette
During our feast, we watched some people with a lot of rods, fishing away. After a bit one rod started to buzz and a man started to reel away. We found it apt to make a mockery of these fishing people as they did seem a bit obtuse. Whilst making a satire out of these people a chap came up to us and said "alright guys." Ooo some one English, he said he heard us nattering away in English so came over. Luckily I don't think he heard us abusing these poor fishermen as he claimed and sounded to be quite a keen fisherman himself. He was from Essex somewhere and pronounced French words and place names in an undeterred English accent, i.e. he would pronounce the X in Bordeaux. Despite this he was a really nice bloke and after chatting away to him for quite a while, Andy told him the perils of not having tea for so long. At which point he said, ah thats alright, I'll stick the kettle on, come back to mine. So we trotted after him and met his family, whom were very cordial. The tea was good to have, but was very hot and scolded my tongue to a strange soft sand paper texture. After finishing these, he offered some beers, oh I wish! But it was pitch black, bordering midnight, and we still hadn't put the tent up by this stage. It was great to meet such amiable people, aberrant karma considering we were previously being a bit mean about fishermen!
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