The end of the ride

I looked tentatively (!) out of the yurt in the hope that the wind had blown itself out but unfortunately the bowing poplar trees told a different story. The wind had increased in strength. I set off towards Marans alongside the Sarthe making good progress as the forest provided some shelter. The first sign showing the distance to La Rochele spurred me on.

There was no cover at all for the next stretch by the canal and on a dead flat road I couldn’t go above 8mph! The crops, maize and wheat, had been flattened. The wind didn’t stop a dozen buzzards wheeling round just above a tractor cutting hay as they sensed an easy opportunity of  catching a fleeing mouse or two.

Lunch in the busy old inland port of Marans over, I headed south on the final leg to La Rochelle. I made good progress on the well surfaced track with the wind now blowing me sideways. I had arranged to meet Ros in a bar by the harbour which we had frequented when on holiday last year. However, after 640 km I thought a photo by the actual finish would be a good idea.

I kept following the signs but the last one I found pointed left at a roundabout. I could see the tourist office not far away so went in to ask where the finish is. The young man unhelpfully told me it was in Normandy! When I said I had come from there he consulted with his colleagues. After a little discussion and much Gallic shrugging it was declared that I had reached the end of La Vélo Francette, producing a spontaneous round of applause from the staff.

It was time to meet Ros, who has helped me so much to complete the ride….

In tent on finishing

After another long day in the saddle it was a relief to put the bike in the car at Damvix and head for the overnight accommodation at a donkey sanctuary. Ros had booked the yurt which was very comfortable.

We had a lovely walk round looking at the animals in the evening sunshine.

I slept for ten hours completely unaware of the torrential rain all through the night, only woken by the braying donkeys.

Donkey ride

We had to stay in Niort last night as there is no accommodation in Champdeniers. However the French national gymnastic championships were taking place in Niort over the weekend which meant it was difficult to find anywhere to eat.

It also meant that this morning we had to drive the 15 miles back to Champdeniers for me to rejoin the route back to Niort. It was hilly but not quite as bad as I thought it might be, through unspectacular scenery, and villages which probably house commuters to Niort.

The afternoon was different as I entered Le Marais Poitevin along pretty waterways to Coulon.

The town was crowded with folk enjoying the Pentecost bank holiday and taking traditional boat trips.

 

The final part of the day’s ride was to Damvix, still within Le Marais Poitevin. My progress was restricted by dawdling cyclists on the path but in particular by the gale that was blowing off the sea. On the way I stopped to watch group of four cyclists cross on a chain ferry with one of the ladies doing all the work.

Ros had booked us into a donkey sanctuary for the night…more later

 

Feeling flat

Yesterday’s rain had gone and the sun made a welcome appearance this morning. I planned to clock up another forty odd miles to Champdeniers St Denis in the knowledge that the terrain was hilly. The English proprietor of the Hotel Voltaire gave us a copious breakfast and I left Ros to pack and complete the formalities.

The first dozen miles were through superb countryside, buzzards overhead, meadows full of poppies to marvel at.

 

Coffee time was taken at Gourge’s picturesque bar/restaurant.

I listened as an English couple ordered drinks in appalling French and then engaged me in conversation. They have lived in the Vendée for years! I coasted down from the village centre to their medieval bridge where I met an Australian couple and we posed for photos.

Ros had chosen a lovely spot for a picnic on a grassy area between the river and the ramparts of Parthenay. The rest of the ride is a bit of a blur, so many short, sharp climbs and steep descents. Eventually, after an essential refuelling stop as I was flagging badly, I arrived in Champdeniers desperate for a flat bit of road to ride along.

 

All is for the best…

The day started with a covered sky with a light tail wind, perfect conditions for cycling. I wasn’t sorry to leave the Loire behind, instead loosely following the Thouet, a river I had never heard of. My legs seemed to be stronger, helped by the fact that I had jettisoned most of the contents of my rucksack into Ros’s care. Thankfully I had gained some clean underwear and the unsuspecting French public would no longer be subjected to the sight of my handlebars being draped with Y fronts in an attempt to dry them after washing.

The route snaked its way through countless quaint villages until I arrived at Thoars which boasts a viaduct designed by Mr Eiffel.

I met Ros for lunch in Thouars before continuing to our intended destination, Airvault. Almost immediately I missed a turning and found myself on the wrong side of the river. I navigated a way back via a pretty village where I saw a house with a good sized garden was on the market for 22,000 euros!

Ros had located the B&B and decided to set off on her bike to meet me and ride the last 5 miles with me. Suddenly the heavens opened and we took refuge in a bus shelter.

There was no sign of the rain stopping so we made a dash for it, arriving at the Hotel Voltaire soaked through but in good spirits..over 50 miles covered. Voltaire’s creation, Dr Pangloss, would definitely have said that “all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds”.

Saumur but so far

A good night’s sleep, clear blue sky, just a 40 mile roll alongside the Loire to Saumur..what could go wrong?

Having bought my breakfast in Angers I stopped to eat it by a lake after about five miles only to realise I should have been riding round the other side of the vast expanse of water. That explained the horrible pitted nature of the cycle path I was trying to negotiate. This section of La Vélo Francette is shared with another, more established route, La Loire a Vélo and I certainly noticed the difference in the surface and in particular the route signs. At one stage I was so lost it took me 15 minutes to find the river again.

The temperature was rising and reached 30 degrees in the afternoon and was sapping my strength. Worse still I could no longer ignore an ache in my right knee which hurts especially when I am putting in extra effort, such as going uphill. I was therefore relieved when I finally reached Saumur and the Kyriad Hotel.

About an hour later Ros arrived, which cheered me up. She had driven down from Le Havre but I was lucky she got here. At one motorway toll booth where, due to the right hand drive car, she had to walk round to get the ticket. She thought the man getting out of the car in the queue behind was going to tell her to hurry up, but instead he asked her to go to Paris with him because he liked her smile!

The longest day

I woke early, packed everything up, and waited for J-P to arrive. I didn’t have time to admire the view for long before his battered white(ish) van skidded to a halt next to me. The customary pleasantries over he produced an impressive collection of Allen keys and within ten minutes I had extracted the last foot of fishing line, twisted tightly around the spindle.

My aim was to get to Angers, over fifty miles away, but the tow path was excellent and I was soon cruising past the water that had slipped quietly by me during the night. First stop was Chateau Gontier, a charming town whose market was taking place. I had a coffee, a pain aux raisins, and a refill of my water bottle while watching the locals catching up with old friends.

One thing I have noticed is how the further south I have travelled, the bigger the insects are that fly into my face and there are more and more lizards that, on seeing me approaching scurry to the sanctuary af the verge. I even narrowly avoided this snake today.

I plugged on through the afternoon, stopping to take on water about every five miles. The scenery by the river had hardly changed for the last sixty miles until an island appeared where there are nature trails, only accessible via a small ferry, which if it were a few feet longer would be a bridge.

I made it to Angers, a modern, affluent city. The Office de Tourisme found me a hotel by the station. 194 miles covered so far…nearly half way.

Mission control we have a problem

Riding merrily towards Halte d’Entrammes, my stop for the night, my bike made a grating noise from the chain area but it hadn’t broken so I kept on going. I realised after a while that there was something wrong but plugged on to my destination.

One of my favourite TV programmes is Spiral, or Engrenages (gears) as it is known in French. Both words could be associated with my predicament. Some moronic angler must have left several metres of fishing line for me to run over and get entangled in my gears. Nearly 3 hours later and I had removed most of it but I had not brought the right sized key to undo the remaining wheel that was jammed.

Game over? No, step forward J-P, the proprietor of the establishment who said he would bring the right key in the morning. In the meantime he cooked me a superb meal and I settled down for the night in my tent bivouac.

Water, water everywhere

I woke up this morning to sun streaming through a gap in the curtains..at last! A breakfast of two bananas and a chunk of Camembert and I was off. Well not quite, I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Madame “tiré six” who had had me pulling my hair out when booking the room.

As I crossed from one valley to the next I left the Varenne..and followed another disused railway line towards Mayenne, stopping for coffee on the way. Mayenne looked interesting with an impressive chateau by the river so I descended, had a quick look round, and then climbed back up to the cycle route. Not really worth the effort.

As a result of a wrong turn I stumbled across a McDonald’s with wifi but for some reason WordPress wouldn’t let me load any photo’s.  I will try and do so later.

The rest of the day was spent pedalling along the towpath by the River Marenne. Very peaceful, lined with trees, with the occasional beautiful house discernible through the verdure. The river is navigable with each lock keeper in competition for the prettiest flowers.

The sight of the first approaching HLM blocks told me I was nearly at Laval. Apart from having a palindromic name it was hot, busy, and dusty. At this point disaster struck…

 

 

Another day, another river

No blogging yesterday due to non availability of wifi and I think it will be the same again tonight.

Yesterday I set off from Pont d’Ouilly under a dark grey sky in the direction of Flers. The profile of this section on the website suggested undulating countryside but although the climbs weren’t as long as the day before they still tested the legs. Everywhere is so green and there is virtually no traffic on the roads.

Whoever devised this section of the route definitely has a sadistic side to them. Every time I got nearer to Flers there was yet another detour up a hill, through a village shrouded in drizzle, and back down to the valley.

I was starving by the time I got to Flers so I stopped and had chicken with rice and tarte Normande. Flyers marked the end of La Suisse Normande where I must have left behind a few litres of sweat.

In the afternoon I took a cycle way along a disused railway line through forests and alongside the Varenne. Domfront is an ancient town on top of a steep hill. I was halfway up the hill before I realised I had taken a wrong turn but still got a view of the old castle.

I continued to St Fraimbault, a pretty village known for its floral displays. I reported to the Mairie and discovered that my accommodation was actually upstairs. The decor (and the mattress) were very 1970’s but I slept soundly.