Skim vs. France - Sunday - Day 9

Rest day today and most thoroughly well earnt. I decided to stay in paid camping an extra night for three reasons: the niggle in my right calf has every sign of turning into a serious strain; I've underspent my budget everyday so deserve to spend a little; my rear wheel problem combined with reason one will mean that the Col du Tourmalet will indeed have to wait until next time thus I've no need to hurry to get there worrying about getting up the mountain and back in time for my friends wedding.

So with a rest day called I get to relaxing as best I can but I do need to go to the shops and being this map-close to what looks like one of Europe's longest and most stunning beaches (well on the map anyway) I have to go right? Only a twenty mile calf stinging round trip. Ouch. Probably shouldn't have done it for current/increasing the current injury problems; definitely should've done it for awesome beach reasons. Now I'm not much of a beach person but what a stunner it was, soft light yellow sands, inviting blue waters but with a surf to challenge anyone seeking anything more than a dip. Mind it did make me more that a little body conscious. There were some stunning attractive bronzed goddesses, each more beautiful than the last and each knowing it more than the last; looking through my expertly under-tanned (but with highly amusingly cyclist tan lines) pudgy body, only seeking the eyes of the muscular tanned elite, of which there were many.

Mind you I did forget just how naked the French get at the beach. There were sights that could've made you blind and sights that would make you wish you were. I mean I'm no prude, if you want to rock out with your cock out it's up to you but heavens to Betsy, please don't walk around the tide line bending down from the hip to leisurely pick up sea shells. I mean the eye of Sauron has a less intimidating stare than the anal wink I was given by Mons. Middle-aged-spread-all-over-tan-man. C'est la vie. Back to camp for some proper rest and dinner, for tomorrow it's back to the road, pain-killered up and hoping for good times.

Skim vs. France - Saturday - Day 8

Up and at it for a leisurely 9:30 today, for I was going to be reaching the coast by today via a quick ferry across La Garonne at Blaye saving me the maelstrom of major roads surrounding Bordeaux and the promise of much easier navigation. Wish I'd been a bit more eager for the get go this morning for as I arrive at the small port in Blaye for the ferry it would appear that I missed the boat (literal-a-mon) by twenty five minutes and the next one is two and a half hours away. Now I'm left with a decision, do I strike out and strive to find a way around outer Bordeaux? or sit and wait in hope that I can find a campsite near the coast much later in the evening. I choose to sit on the dock of the bay.

I suppose this is one of the big draw backs with this type of cycling trip, especially solo, is that you really can't just lock your bike up and go for a wonder, you're kind tied to your bike with all of your belongings strapped to the back of it. Unless you've somewhere safe to stash your stuff you're stuck, and with Blaye in full market day swing I don't really fancy lugging the the whole lot around a busy town. It's a shame and I do feel a pang of loneliness as I sit by myself, but ah well, you can't dwell on thoughts like those when you know you're going to be by yourself for at least another week; time to exercise my mind a little and develop an idea two that have been niggling me.

Well the last 35 miles were smashed in two hour and a half hours, no mean feat when you're carrying the equivalent of an extra two-thirds of a person on the back of your bike and the temperature has steadily risen all day making a total fluid intake of seven and a half litres today! I arrived at the campsite quite exhausted to what I perceive to be a 'camping full' (french equivalent of) sign but as luck would have it that was just for the motorhomes/caravans, there was room at the back for a tent; at thirteen Euro's very reasonable also. First things first, it's shower time, eight days one proper wash (baby wipes for the vitals) and dear sweet deity of choice it was a-mother-flipping-azing! I'd compare it to fasting for a long time eating the merest of morsels then having that first bite of a full meal, it truely makes you appreciate it when you get it. It feels so good to be clean. Unfortunately I have developed a little niggle in my right calf on the way here (largely due to the very flat, very straight roads encouraging haste), I might have to stay here another night. When it came to washing my clothes my fatigued mind didn't make the best observational choice as I washed them in entirely the wrong sink. I did wonder why someone was giving me a dirty look whilst a scrubbed my week old cycling clothes in the face washing sink (the sink for the clothes was on the other side of the block I discovered). No harm done I'm sure, not speaking the language helps with faux pas, no doubt, just doing my bit to improve the British reputation on the continent. Now just dinner and a thorough study of the map to see if I can still make it to the Pyrenees and back up in time for my friends wedding party. Bonne nuit.