Skim vs. France - Friday - Day 7

Today was a gloriously sunny day, but it was still quite cold. I think I might've got a little bit caught out by the chilly breeze with a smidge of sunkissedness for my efforts, twas wonderful cycling weather though. On my way down and across another page of the map a small sad face of realisation ( :( ) came to me whilst getting my spoke key out to true my back wheel again, that if I've had to do this twice in a week that A: these are shit wheels and B: I'm probably not going to be able to climb a mountain; a dream I've had since sitting with my dad watching the Tour de France as elite athletes creak up stupendously impressive mountains to jaw dropping heights to fly down the other side. I mean there's quite a bit of difference in noticing a wobble and pulling over into a farmers field to straighten it and noticing it on the way down or up a massive mountain that has little to no side of the road. I'm all up for a bit of danger but that might be taking it too far. As the bad guys in the cartoons I used to (still) watch 'I'll get you next time, Pyrenees!' and with considerably better wheels you can bet. Still I'll to look up at them from the bottom, silver lining I suppose, something about the journey being the real prize or something.

I did however get to visit the lovely village of Breville today, not only a fine manufacturer of cheese toastie makers (and what I called actually called cheese toasties for a large part of my formative life) but also a fine village. The entrance to which was guarded by a beautifully carved wooden sculpture, I marveled at it as I rode past but entering into the town proper there were more of these sculptures, life sized fairies, a model solar system, all the little traffic posts outside the school had a different wooden animal or head carved into it, the clock at the centre of the village was also made of wood with three figures holding it up. I almost cycled through without stopping to take photo's, fortunately I thought such an undocumented exit would be a crime, so briefly doubling back I snapped some of the best. Closer inspection only increased my awe of these beautiful creations, I would've quite happily moved there and become an apprentice wood carver; maybe that's a tale for another time.

On I went and with my need for a wash getting more desperate by the day as I was becoming quite ripe, so I kept a sharp eye out for places apt to do it. Just outside of Cognac proper I spied a perfect place a secluded bend of a river that wasn't over looked and was easily accessible. Right I'll just nip into Cognac to get some vitals and come back here for a sneaky wash. It was not for me you see I found my way, by following advertising signs to the nearest supermarket (always no more thanfive mins away where ever you are, apparently) and inadvertently found myself on quite a mzjor dual carriage way with no choice but to go all the way to the other side of town and with not one scooby as to how to get back. Ah well by the morrow I should be in a campsite by the (hopefully) beautiful coast just past Bordeaux where heavenly showers (hopefully) await. Until then :)