The day started the in the usual fashion, questioning why nature made the floor out of concrete.
Once awake it was time to cobble together some breakfast and pack the tents. It turned out our already dwindling supplies had been raided in the night. I suspected the cat that had nervously explored near our pitch the night before. Cute furry bastard. Continuing our good deed of feeding nature, a loud Chaffinch completed an odd ritual of slowly jumping closer and chirping every time. The behaviour was only ever rewarded and enforced by the gift of a peanut, which was immediately taken a distance and pecked apart. This went on a few times while David went to retrieve our unfortunately still wet clothes from the makeshift clothes line in the nearby trees.
Donning our moist clothes and half full of a random breakfast mostly consisting of French jammy dodgers, we left camp and undertook our new route east towards Loudéac. We had previously examined our original plan of Roscoff to Nantes and back in the 8 days I had available. Given the distance we'd covered following the cycle route (and not Google map's direct route), this no longer seemed feasible. David quickly came up with an alternative which headed east, then south and west again to form a loop.
The start of the route covered the same type of terrain as previously, disused railway covered in a kind of sand and grit. I as usual was doing my head down road cyclist routine, not noticing much but the route in front of me and whatever foliage could creep in to my periphery. David however quickly made a noise and stopped, he had seen a woodpecker. The more times scenario happened the more I tried to make an effort to appreciate my surroundings. Eventually later in the day I also saw a woodpecker! It wasn't actually pecking wood but I counted as a victory anyway.
As we started and stopped on the route to appreciate (and photograph) various things (mostly horses) we would overtake and be overtaken by a Canadian man who had stayed at the same camp as us. We did the usual awkward British thing of making eye contact and nodding the head, or managing an uncertain "bonjour". I did anyway, David was probably taking his photograph.
Along the route there seemed to be an even higher than usual number of fly swarms. You may remember yesterday's fun of me getting a fly to the eye, luckily no such event was relived but soon the number caught in my leg hair was in double digits. I seemed to get the groups of tiny flies and David seemed to get huge ones directly to the torso. At some point he likened it to a "beanbag to the chest", although I'd be concerned if he had ever actually experienced that first hand. Maybe his conservationist holidays in Africa were a bit more political than he let on. I offered the analysis that perhaps if the French didn't eat so many frogs legs, the frogs might have more luck in catching all the flies... But I digress.
*Sounds of angelic chorus*
At this point it was nearing noon and we were nearing the Mecca of cycle touring. Intermarché SUPER. From the outside and to the uninitiated it looks just like a normal supermarket. However to famished and used to living on bread English cyclists, it was a wonderland of endless cheese and (ok yes) more bread. We picked up 4 baguettes for about a euro and were on our way. Before setting off David downed approximately a litre of vanilla yoghurt and I felt no guilt finishing three chicken and bacon sandwiches.
From Loudéac to the next town we'd decided to visit (for no reason in particular...) we had to use normal roads and suffer the wind that came with open spaces. Luckily this wind was being out to good use in the shape of various wind farms. While not the most exciting topic to read about, it was very strange to see three out of four completely still, it was like staring at a town where time had been frozen.
We followed the road until it joined up again with the wonderful Brest (fantastic name) to Nantes canal we had been used yesterday. We took the canal south until we hit the town we had been looking for. For any not sad enough to know (and David will probably correct me) Rohan is a town or people in Lord of the Rings. We found a house which we can only assume is filled with film memorabilia, and decided that counted as seeing it.
"Muster the Rohirrim Gondor calls for aid!" - David
After experiencing Rohan we followed the canal back north and then west to a large town called Pontivy. This part of the journey was filled with locks. I really wanted to see one actually get used, I understand the concept of it being used to move a boat between the different levels but it would have been nice to experience at least one of what seemed many hundred locks get used. With no boats in sight for pretty much the whole length of canal we'd experienced, I didn't hold my breath. We did stop at one lock to try and take one photo with both of us in. This mainly consisted of David running to and from his phone which had been perched on his pannier and placed on the boundary of how far one could run within a ten-second timer. I attempted it once but cleats do not make for speed.
At most locks there was an accompanying house, which were reminiscient of the disused train stations we had seen. Again, some had been left to rot but some had been reclaimed as houses. Flower boxes had been added to the locks and bridges. Lovely.
We eventually reached Pontivy, where we had aimed to finish the day. However upon arriving and taking a cake and internet break, it seemed there weren't actually any campsites close by. This made sense as it seemed quite urban. More than we'd experienced so far any way. Google offered one camp site about 10 miles further south, the direction we'd planned to head next anyway. Dubious reviews on their Google maps page didn't fill us with confidence, but we agreed any facilities would be better than none. And besides, it was only 10 more miles or so.
What followed the canal from here was a mix of loose gravel making it very hard to keep any speed, and a solid but very uneven neglected concrete. Oddly this rough part of the route seemed to have a large number of other users to dodge. I put this down to the proximity to Pontivy. I at one point exclaimed I would rather return to the gravel than have to endure any more potholes (my panniers don't fully close, they're more of a flap lid held down by velcro). We were then of course rewarded with some patches of loose gravel with big stones, the kind that love to displace your wheels as you cycle over (around) them. Be careful what you wish for.
"The canal was picturesque, in the sprinkling of sunlight, watching the River snake through the land. The trees in the distance reached higher and higher like giant broccoli florets in cinema seating." - David
The closer we got to the campsite the more and more we were ready to stop. It had been a long day, eventually totalling just over 50 miles. The final challenge was to scale the small mountain the campsite was sitting on top of. We cycled up the road and followed it round the outside of the camp site, eventually finding the entrance.
At this point we realised we had arrived at exactly the time the check-in office closed. We were quite content to set up and pay when we left in the morning. However we were quickly spotted by the daughter of the owner who didn't speak any English. She disappeared and we were greeted by a man who spoke a little but more English than we spoke French. We made small talk about big the hill up was, he did the usual one up your story by talking about running up it in thirty degree heat. Yeah whatever. Eventually the owner came back, we paid, and we went to find a pitch.
We quickly got our tents up and went for (separate) showers. Dinner consisted of a variety of fillings for baguette and French pringles. As the lady we surprised earlier proclaimed: "ooh la la".
Wanting to see the view from the hill we were on and deciding we'd clearly not had enough exercise already, David led us along a dirt trail that disappeared into the woods outside the camp site. Eventually we were rewarded by a purpose built viewing platform, with (I assume) lots of useful information (in French).
We found a similar path on the other side of the road and for some reason decided to follow it. Down, down it went. The only thought in my mind at this point was that I'd have to walk back up it at some point. I'll sleep well tonight. It ended up at the bottom of the hill we'd cycled up earlier, oh fun. We made our way back up to the site, pondering such important questions as "if a fire extinguisher explodes on a fire does it put out the fire?" I answered the question with more questions. What did people do before the internet?
"Also I took this picture of a pine cone that I think could win the bafta for best picture of a pine cone" - David
All that was left to do was sit down, for David to edit the photos, and for me to take my turn today writing the blog. I certainly hadn't intended to write this much as it is usually hard to recall everything that's happened during the day. However I seemed to have no trouble putting finger to keyboard so I hope it's been a nice read.
Tomorrow we'll be heading south to Lorient. From there tentatively heading to Corncarneau, and then north back to Carhaix.
Once awake it was time to cobble together some breakfast and pack the tents. It turned out our already dwindling supplies had been raided in the night. I suspected the cat that had nervously explored near our pitch the night before. Cute furry bastard. Continuing our good deed of feeding nature, a loud Chaffinch completed an odd ritual of slowly jumping closer and chirping every time. The behaviour was only ever rewarded and enforced by the gift of a peanut, which was immediately taken a distance and pecked apart. This went on a few times while David went to retrieve our unfortunately still wet clothes from the makeshift clothes line in the nearby trees.
Donning our moist clothes and half full of a random breakfast mostly consisting of French jammy dodgers, we left camp and undertook our new route east towards Loudéac. We had previously examined our original plan of Roscoff to Nantes and back in the 8 days I had available. Given the distance we'd covered following the cycle route (and not Google map's direct route), this no longer seemed feasible. David quickly came up with an alternative which headed east, then south and west again to form a loop.
The start of the route covered the same type of terrain as previously, disused railway covered in a kind of sand and grit. I as usual was doing my head down road cyclist routine, not noticing much but the route in front of me and whatever foliage could creep in to my periphery. David however quickly made a noise and stopped, he had seen a woodpecker. The more times scenario happened the more I tried to make an effort to appreciate my surroundings. Eventually later in the day I also saw a woodpecker! It wasn't actually pecking wood but I counted as a victory anyway.
As we started and stopped on the route to appreciate (and photograph) various things (mostly horses) we would overtake and be overtaken by a Canadian man who had stayed at the same camp as us. We did the usual awkward British thing of making eye contact and nodding the head, or managing an uncertain "bonjour". I did anyway, David was probably taking his photograph.
Along the route there seemed to be an even higher than usual number of fly swarms. You may remember yesterday's fun of me getting a fly to the eye, luckily no such event was relived but soon the number caught in my leg hair was in double digits. I seemed to get the groups of tiny flies and David seemed to get huge ones directly to the torso. At some point he likened it to a "beanbag to the chest", although I'd be concerned if he had ever actually experienced that first hand. Maybe his conservationist holidays in Africa were a bit more political than he let on. I offered the analysis that perhaps if the French didn't eat so many frogs legs, the frogs might have more luck in catching all the flies... But I digress.
*Sounds of angelic chorus*
At this point it was nearing noon and we were nearing the Mecca of cycle touring. Intermarché SUPER. From the outside and to the uninitiated it looks just like a normal supermarket. However to famished and used to living on bread English cyclists, it was a wonderland of endless cheese and (ok yes) more bread. We picked up 4 baguettes for about a euro and were on our way. Before setting off David downed approximately a litre of vanilla yoghurt and I felt no guilt finishing three chicken and bacon sandwiches.
From Loudéac to the next town we'd decided to visit (for no reason in particular...) we had to use normal roads and suffer the wind that came with open spaces. Luckily this wind was being out to good use in the shape of various wind farms. While not the most exciting topic to read about, it was very strange to see three out of four completely still, it was like staring at a town where time had been frozen.
We followed the road until it joined up again with the wonderful Brest (fantastic name) to Nantes canal we had been used yesterday. We took the canal south until we hit the town we had been looking for. For any not sad enough to know (and David will probably correct me) Rohan is a town or people in Lord of the Rings. We found a house which we can only assume is filled with film memorabilia, and decided that counted as seeing it.
"Muster the Rohirrim Gondor calls for aid!" - David
After experiencing Rohan we followed the canal back north and then west to a large town called Pontivy. This part of the journey was filled with locks. I really wanted to see one actually get used, I understand the concept of it being used to move a boat between the different levels but it would have been nice to experience at least one of what seemed many hundred locks get used. With no boats in sight for pretty much the whole length of canal we'd experienced, I didn't hold my breath. We did stop at one lock to try and take one photo with both of us in. This mainly consisted of David running to and from his phone which had been perched on his pannier and placed on the boundary of how far one could run within a ten-second timer. I attempted it once but cleats do not make for speed.
At most locks there was an accompanying house, which were reminiscient of the disused train stations we had seen. Again, some had been left to rot but some had been reclaimed as houses. Flower boxes had been added to the locks and bridges. Lovely.
We eventually reached Pontivy, where we had aimed to finish the day. However upon arriving and taking a cake and internet break, it seemed there weren't actually any campsites close by. This made sense as it seemed quite urban. More than we'd experienced so far any way. Google offered one camp site about 10 miles further south, the direction we'd planned to head next anyway. Dubious reviews on their Google maps page didn't fill us with confidence, but we agreed any facilities would be better than none. And besides, it was only 10 more miles or so.
What followed the canal from here was a mix of loose gravel making it very hard to keep any speed, and a solid but very uneven neglected concrete. Oddly this rough part of the route seemed to have a large number of other users to dodge. I put this down to the proximity to Pontivy. I at one point exclaimed I would rather return to the gravel than have to endure any more potholes (my panniers don't fully close, they're more of a flap lid held down by velcro). We were then of course rewarded with some patches of loose gravel with big stones, the kind that love to displace your wheels as you cycle over (around) them. Be careful what you wish for.
"The canal was picturesque, in the sprinkling of sunlight, watching the River snake through the land. The trees in the distance reached higher and higher like giant broccoli florets in cinema seating." - David
The closer we got to the campsite the more and more we were ready to stop. It had been a long day, eventually totalling just over 50 miles. The final challenge was to scale the small mountain the campsite was sitting on top of. We cycled up the road and followed it round the outside of the camp site, eventually finding the entrance.
At this point we realised we had arrived at exactly the time the check-in office closed. We were quite content to set up and pay when we left in the morning. However we were quickly spotted by the daughter of the owner who didn't speak any English. She disappeared and we were greeted by a man who spoke a little but more English than we spoke French. We made small talk about big the hill up was, he did the usual one up your story by talking about running up it in thirty degree heat. Yeah whatever. Eventually the owner came back, we paid, and we went to find a pitch.
We quickly got our tents up and went for (separate) showers. Dinner consisted of a variety of fillings for baguette and French pringles. As the lady we surprised earlier proclaimed: "ooh la la".
Wanting to see the view from the hill we were on and deciding we'd clearly not had enough exercise already, David led us along a dirt trail that disappeared into the woods outside the camp site. Eventually we were rewarded by a purpose built viewing platform, with (I assume) lots of useful information (in French).
We found a similar path on the other side of the road and for some reason decided to follow it. Down, down it went. The only thought in my mind at this point was that I'd have to walk back up it at some point. I'll sleep well tonight. It ended up at the bottom of the hill we'd cycled up earlier, oh fun. We made our way back up to the site, pondering such important questions as "if a fire extinguisher explodes on a fire does it put out the fire?" I answered the question with more questions. What did people do before the internet?
"Also I took this picture of a pine cone that I think could win the bafta for best picture of a pine cone" - David
All that was left to do was sit down, for David to edit the photos, and for me to take my turn today writing the blog. I certainly hadn't intended to write this much as it is usually hard to recall everything that's happened during the day. However I seemed to have no trouble putting finger to keyboard so I hope it's been a nice read.
Tomorrow we'll be heading south to Lorient. From there tentatively heading to Corncarneau, and then north back to Carhaix.
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