Skim vs. France - Monday - Day 3

Thankfully today was a much better day. Though the old nemesis of that pesky headwind was still about, facing him in the morning is a much easier prospect. My lack of luck in finding a shop that would sell me water in bulk last night means that this takes top billing on the priorities list, to the cash for water dispensary post haste! Cloud cover with an attempt at rain through the night (more just a warning of what could happen; some plastic bags to keep my vitals dry priority No. 2 me'thinks) makes the morning ride fairly cool thus meaning that my paltry 100ml odd of water should last me.The first town I hit with hope La-Ferte-Vidame is stunning, proper olde worlde looking village that looks like it was built for the grounds keepers of the huge Chat at the villages head. Sadly no real shops, well nothing that looked like shops in what was probably a selection of listed (or the French equivalent there of) buildings; still a pleasure on the eye and mind but water is my monkey for now.

On my way out of the town I spy a secluded but quite large lake with full and daunting 'PRIVE' signs all over the small entrance, do I risk a a dip and quick wash? It has been three days of near non-stop sweating and whilst it's not warm enough to give the clothes a quick once over my body certainly needs it. Man wasn't supposed to wash with baby wipes alone! Luckily it's just a chain on a hook guarding the entrance, which I unhook run my bike down the stairs and pop back to leave no clues of trespass to the casual observer. Upon closer inspection the water is quite murky and there are what I assume were little fishing jetties placed around the edge of the the lake. It's a big old lake, surely a little soap and some non-fecal Skim filth could do no harm? After hiding my bike a little and retrieving my soap one final quick look about to make sure I wasn't about to get shot I strip down for a scrub. Though the water was murky the wash is revitalizing and not wanting to overstay my welcome I re-pack to lumber my laden bike back up the stairs and out with anyone, barring the trout, none the wiser!

Fortunately in the next town, a solid 20 miles from my start point I find a shop large enough to sell bulk water and top up on other vitals. As I get to the check out with priority one thoroughly ticked and seeing as the skies haven't let up there threatening loom I ready myself for priority two. In the most pathetic French I ask for three carrier bags. As I'm not buying a lot the attendant points to the rucksack I'm carrying and after several French attempts that fell to a bewildered expression (I'm pretty sure I definitely said it right) eventually says in English. 'Just put in there.' Looking at me like I'm simple I explain it's for keeping things dry on a bicycle as I catch myself miming the motion of pedals with my hands I think maybe she has a point with the simple thing? Still she asks the burly security guard if this is ok and he says yes. Crickey, all that for three bags, which were all paid for, I suppose it's a good policy as if it was that much hassle at home I'd bring my own for sure.

Onwards, with my bottles all full and a extra bottle of water strapped to the rack (learning see) I set off and seeing as how yesterday I went in the wrongish direction (south east) I thought I'd try some white map roads (the smallest denomination of road avaialable) one word, Bliss! Proper bendy and hilly raods but most of all as far as traffic went they were quiet and much less exposed to the wind. Cue a blissful day of riding meandering, forested roads and the joy of finding a open shop in the evening, for the first time since I arrived in France I could settle down at the edge of a farmers field, tucked nicely away from roads or houses and have more water than I could drink. I think a well earnt cup of tea was well past due, not wanting to take milk on the road it was a delicious cup of spiced rooibos, slipped down a treat with dinner and a pipe. Happy days.