by Liz

Miles : 43. Ascent : 866’.

Last night’s beautiful house was on slightly raised land – unusual in this flat landscape – and when Philip opened the front door at 8 o’clock, a low, ethereal autumn mist was resting on the fields below. We were away at 8.30 and followed a track beside the Charente-Seudre canal. 

Low sunlight filtered through the trees on our left, casting long shadows of us and our bikes onto the rushes, and causing the fishermen on the far bank to shade their eyes from the brightness. A black cap was singing. Gunshots from the Sunday morning hunt rang out in the quiet, and 30 seconds later an almost black pheasant ran across the tow path and into the bushes. Luckily for us the hunt was far away but the timing was comical. 

We turned into marshland, herons and egrets feeding and cows grazing. Mr B the buzzard was hunting, a dark shape against the pale sky, his mournful cries contrasting with the chirpy call of the first chiffchaff of the trip. A large flock of lapwings flashed black and white overhead. On the other side of the culverts a fishing event had closed a quiet country lane to traffic. We assumed bikes were exempt, and around six exceptionally long rods placed right across the roadway were either shifted aside or raised so we could pass. At the other end, a French day cyclist going in the opposite direction asked for our advice about the closure. We felt well proud being able to help a local. 

Today we were again navigating the Sunday part of the French Sunday-Monday opening and closing times. The first bakery was closed and we rode for 20 miles on a bowl of fruit and yogurt and the last of Tessa and Maurice’s caramel oatcakes from Edinburgh. We ate breakfast at 11.15, perched on two posts in a car park. Much more scenic than it sounds, we were among trees and had a view the sea. We passed the time of day with a gentle dog owner and his gentle dog Félix, who had a mind of his own and a bandaged ear. Chats with people whose lives we intersect with briefly continue to be a highlight of every day. 

Other features of our day included crossing the viaduct over the Seudre river, miles of forest tracks (Philip’s favourite) through the Forêt Dominiale de Saint-Augustin, and more coastal paths (my favourite), the ocean pale turquoise in today’s sunshine. 

I was extra happy all day because we were pedalling towards our third rest day. I’m enjoying the slower pace of this trip – lower mileages and more frequent days off the saddle. Less pressure and more pleasure. We’re staying these two nights in a converted grape press built in 1901, overlooking the ocean where the Gironde meets the Atlantic. It’s a little piece of paradise. A small lizard about four inches long has just taken cover under the parasol stand on the terrace. We have a key to the gate that leads onto the sea front. The tide is too far out to swim this evening but tomorrow morning we will go for a dip.