After blogging last night, we had a beer and I played with a neglected adolescent alsation. We awoke to a overcast dewy morning, partially acclimatised to the grassy mattress provided. We were on our way shortly after a tasty banana and cereal bar breakfast.
We had to stop as there was a little dog running around in the road. I tried to tempt it closer but it turned and scarpered away. This brought back early memories of dating. Down some forest paths Chris was listening to 'That Mitchell and Webb Sound' and to anyone around (i.e. me) he seemed to be chuckling at random intervals. This was annoying but then he managed to push a fly into his eye. Before showing concern I stopped to take a picture.
I also took a picture of a horse, and Chris took a picture of me pointing at said horse.
This wasn't the first time I stopped us to look at animals, and it wouldn't be the last.
The route took us past a town called Rostrenen or something like that. A town which had, to it's credit, a cash machine and a statue of the equine terminator.
We cycled through on our way to the predestined stop of the Intermarché supermarket of dreams...but...closed for the occasion of it being a Sunday. To counter our disappointment we ate our dwindling lunch supplies in the car park. We also cycled up two hills to find a shop we passed earlier that turned out to be a pub in disguise, and another which was closed despite its advertised opening times. I'm holding back the tears writing this.
The next town on the route was similarly deserted. HOWEVER one genius decided to install this.
The 24hr bread providing wall robot. You have no idea how genuinely excited we were. After some awkward baguette storage attempts we made it to the real scenic route. The canal.
The sun was scorching, butterflies danced in the air and dragonflies became temporary wingmen. We cycled passed, and admired, giant sedimentary rock forms jutting from the ground. I then stopped us because I saw donkeys (saw, fed and patted on the nose!). Then looking one-hundred and sixteen degrees to the left revealed a provider of beer and chips!
After the good track, we were forced to climb a tarmac mountain. But there were some good views of forested hills descending into the valley and a tiny but fat horse. There was a long downhill afterwards, which we smashed.
The campsite was close, and we were ready for it. It was down a road called 'rue de Lac'. I took us down a road instead called 'route de lac'. We went down a long and steady hill before we realised the difference. Chris was still giggling at random intervals and didn't seem to mind.
Lac means lake, and there it was.
We met a nice cyclist Frenchman, who bought us a beer as he was checking in. This was just as well, as we then had something to drink whilst he had a 10 minute conversation with the excellently eccentric guy running the campsite. He said he didn't get to speak to too many people. We had a swim in the water, comfortingly yellow as it was.
The shop had jam to go in our dispensed baguettes and all was right with the world. Except for the lack of cutlery, but we improvised.
Bon appetit?!
We had to stop as there was a little dog running around in the road. I tried to tempt it closer but it turned and scarpered away. This brought back early memories of dating. Down some forest paths Chris was listening to 'That Mitchell and Webb Sound' and to anyone around (i.e. me) he seemed to be chuckling at random intervals. This was annoying but then he managed to push a fly into his eye. Before showing concern I stopped to take a picture.
I also took a picture of a horse, and Chris took a picture of me pointing at said horse.
This wasn't the first time I stopped us to look at animals, and it wouldn't be the last.
The route took us past a town called Rostrenen or something like that. A town which had, to it's credit, a cash machine and a statue of the equine terminator.
We cycled through on our way to the predestined stop of the Intermarché supermarket of dreams...but...closed for the occasion of it being a Sunday. To counter our disappointment we ate our dwindling lunch supplies in the car park. We also cycled up two hills to find a shop we passed earlier that turned out to be a pub in disguise, and another which was closed despite its advertised opening times. I'm holding back the tears writing this.
The next town on the route was similarly deserted. HOWEVER one genius decided to install this.
The 24hr bread providing wall robot. You have no idea how genuinely excited we were. After some awkward baguette storage attempts we made it to the real scenic route. The canal.
The sun was scorching, butterflies danced in the air and dragonflies became temporary wingmen. We cycled passed, and admired, giant sedimentary rock forms jutting from the ground. I then stopped us because I saw donkeys (saw, fed and patted on the nose!). Then looking one-hundred and sixteen degrees to the left revealed a provider of beer and chips!
After the good track, we were forced to climb a tarmac mountain. But there were some good views of forested hills descending into the valley and a tiny but fat horse. There was a long downhill afterwards, which we smashed.
The campsite was close, and we were ready for it. It was down a road called 'rue de Lac'. I took us down a road instead called 'route de lac'. We went down a long and steady hill before we realised the difference. Chris was still giggling at random intervals and didn't seem to mind.
Lac means lake, and there it was.
We met a nice cyclist Frenchman, who bought us a beer as he was checking in. This was just as well, as we then had something to drink whilst he had a 10 minute conversation with the excellently eccentric guy running the campsite. He said he didn't get to speak to too many people. We had a swim in the water, comfortingly yellow as it was.
The shop had jam to go in our dispensed baguettes and all was right with the world. Except for the lack of cutlery, but we improvised.
Bon appetit?!
Seriously.... didn't you learn from last time that shops are shut on a SUNDAY!!!
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