by Liz

Miles : 52. Ascent : 390’

The morning greeted us with a sky full of pink sunrise over the cornfield beside the house. As we left at 9 a neighbour struck up a friendly conversation, wanting to know all the details of our ride. The scene along the canal was autumnal again, a foot of fine mist wafting across the water. We greeted a nun out for a walk along the tow path, rosary in hand. It’s 9.30 and we’re now in Malestroit, where we shopped yesterday, and the car park has been transformed into a bustling marketplace. Philip has just returned with a pain traditionel for our lunch. It’s 10 degrees and we’re well wrapped up. 

After an hour the mist burned off. When the wind is still and the sun is out, the surface of the water is like dark glass. You can see everything that flies across it – drifting seed heads, dragonflies, butterflies, kingfishers, picked out in bright light against the inky backdrop. 

It was too early in a 50 mile day to stop but we were at a confluence of two rivers and had spotted three kingfishers as we crossed the bridge. So we paused anyway and as we watched they flew back and forth, low over the water. I managed to film one, then another started diving for fish. On the fourth attempt it succeeded, emerging with a silver fish in its beak. We watched transfixed through the binoculars. 

It’s been a good day for wildlife. We watched a beaver, or maybe a coypu, swimming on the far side of the wide Isac river. Later, where it narrowed, we were delighted to see an otter on the far bank. There have been herons patrolling every hundred yards or so, and occasionally we see them in flight, looking like pterodactyls. 

We’re finding the French people we come across very polite and friendly. In their cars, they hang right back, give way and pass slow and wide. On foot or bike they call out a cheery Bonjour or Bonne route, and when we’ve stopped for lunch passers by invariably wish us Bon appetit.

As for us, enthusiasm and optimism characterise the mornings. Then, for me at any rate, jelly legs and a sore bum tend to take over in the afternoon. We haven’t given ourselves an especially easy first week with 50 miles yesterday and today. With the Pacific Coast Highway ride I spent months sketching out the route based on terrain and accommodation before we booked anything. We didn’t do that for this ride, and overestimated the mileage we needed to do to begin with, ending up adding in rest days and shorter mileages later in the ride to take up the slack. A useful lesson. 

Having avoided carbs for the past ten months, before leaving home we gathered together all delicious, carb-loaded treats we’ve been given in recent times. As a result, my panniers are weighty and bulging. We are gradually munching our way through maple biscuits from Claire and John’s trip to Canada, sugared almonds from James and Elena’s wedding, salted caramel oatcakes from Tessa and Maurice’s holiday in Scotland and orange and fig cake from their trip to Seville, florentines from my weekend away with Jenny and K, and chocolate from Andrii’s trip to Poland. In addition we are in the gastronomic capital of the world, and mightily enjoying it. We’ll go back to our carb-free diet after the ride, but for this welcome interlude we need the energy and are pretty sure we’ll be burning it all off. 

We are hoping to buy food for dinner at the corner shop in St Omer de Blain, our destination for the night. It closes each day between 12 and 5pm which feels like something from the distant past. It won’t be the first time we’ll have cobbled something together from a small shop. We have stopped at the water’s edge for a galette to pass the time. What better way to spend a Thursday afternoon in September?