Well, I
slept eleven hours last night, so it’s not surprising today was a better day! A
rather inauspicious start though. I correctly checked to my left as I pulled
out from the b&b onto the road.
There was a car coming my way but it was some distance off, so out I
went, onto the wrong side of the road! How conditioned the brain is that even
though I’d seen the car coming on the correct side I could still do that! Along
I went for about 50 metres when a car turned a corner towards me and I thought,
oops, they’ve overshot the corner a bit, get over! At which point they tooted
rather loudly (which the French never do to a cyclist) and the penny finally dropped.
May it be the first and last time that happens!
Another
discovery: I figured out why I seemed yesterday to have been going so slowly
and covering so little distance. Studying my odometer/computer thingie today, I
realised the nice bike shop man in London had set it up with miles rather than
kilometres. Joy of joy! I wasn’t struggling to go 8kmh yesterday, I was doing
more like 13! And I didn’t cover a mere 30 kms, I did nearly fifty! However,
still a big effort so I planned a much shorter day today. 
Apart from some rather dismal little towns (it is easy to look dismal in this grey weather) and an even more dismal lunch, today was better in other ways too. It didn’t rain, the path was drier, I saw three boats on the canal and met two cycle tourists, the first I’ve seen in two days. They were French and a bit reserved but I nearly threw myself at them! In fact we bumped into each other once more also and discovered we are heading in the same direction at a similar speed, so hopefully, I’ll see them again. It’s good to be able to compare notes and pick up tips.
On the canal
near Hédé, where I’m staying, there is a series of eleven locks. I watched a
boat go through some of them (and then I got bored). The lock-keeper arrives on
a bicycle. He jumps off, closes the lower gate, operates the machinery to let
the water in, chats, or rather, yells and jokes across the canal to the boatie,
forgets what he’s doing, gets back to it, opens the upper gate, sees them
through, then hops on his bike and hightails it along the grass path up to the
next lock to start the process all over again. Eleven times for one boat. What
happens if another boat arrives at the bottom end while he’s at number nine or
ten? There must be quite a lot of waiting around on canal boats. 
This time I
hit it lucky with the chambre d’hôte (b&b). One minute’s flat ride from the
canal path and completely beautiful. From the ancient honey-stone buildings,
expansive leafy garden with outdoor seating overlooking a pond and stream, to
the exquisitely decorated bedroom and luxurious bathroom with total attention
to detail, everything was lovely. So artistic, so charming, so utterly French.
And what’s
more, Madame recommends a local favourite restaurant. A man is hanging out the
back door smoking when I arrive and it’s dark and dingy inside. But you cannot
judge good French eateries by NZ views on how they should look. Monsieur turns
out quite the most delicious salade de
chèvre with tomatoes and walnuts that I think I’ve ever had: a huge bowl of
chopped tomatoes and varied green leaves, herbs etc in a tasty dressing topped
with four slices of baguette each of which have a round slice of goat’s cheese
with a walnut on top. The breads have been grilled and are served hot so that
when I bite into one, the cheese bursts out and spills over, all gooey, sticky
and delicious. Yes, things are starting to look up in La France!
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