by Liz

Miles : 37. Ascent : 230’.

Miriam, our lovely host in peaceful Lège-Cap-Ferret, told us that this summer the wildfires came within metres of her house. She had to evacuate twice, and on the second occasion was away for 12 days while the fire service fought to bring the flames under control. There was no time to think what to take, she packed her two cats, her papers, a change of clothes and left. As we rode away we could see the singed trees in the woods behind the house. 

We were ready at 9.30 but a lot of faffing ensued, including locating an open bakery (even though it’s neither Sunday nor Monday), admiring the deep red Virginia creepers and using the public loo in Arès. France has seriously upped its game in the public convenience department, not a hole in the ground to be found these days, instead we frequently use all-singing, all-dancing facilities where the whole room is automatically washed and dried in between uses. This is the one in Arès, beside the old station:

It was warm in the sun and cool in the shade. Acorns popped under our tyres and robins sang in the beautiful morning. We followed an old railway line for 10 miles, lined with woodland and simple homes, many with gardens seriously nestled under the shady trees, occasionally with a vine-covered terrace for good measure. Some ran small businesses along the trail, a colourful apiary, a table with different size jars of honey for sale, and paintings were lined up outside the home of a local artist. A woman armed with a long stick entered her orchard, looking like she meant business as she approached a tree laden with apples. Small (old railway?) buildings along the route had been painted, one with a wild boar for Steve, and one with a fox for Andy:

It was hot today. I’m carrying an extra two litres of water in my pannier. Philip’s spare water bottle contains 330ml of white wine left over from last night. It’s all about priorities. After we left the railway line we rode for some miles alongside roads of varying busyness and drivers of varying levels of grumpiness. We had lunch in a small wooded park with a fitness area and played with a whole array of outdoor percussion instruments. 

The heat has been a notable feature of the afternoon. The temperature reached 32 degrees and the wind is hot. Much of the route has had no shade and we were grateful for the few sections that wound through trees and brought some relief. At 3 o’clock Philip got his second puncture of the trip. We were near a woodland clearing and found some cover to change the tube. Then he pedalled back to Decathlon, which we’d passed ten minutes earlier, to buy replacements, while I sat in the hot shade and wrote the blog. 

It’s 5pm and Philip is in SuperU doing the shopping. He’s told me there’s a surprise at tonight’s accommodation and I don’t know what it is. Hopefully not a sauna. I’ve thought for the past 24 hours that tomorrow’s a rest day but that’s not the case, however it’s set to be several degrees cooler and that will be welcome. I think apart from one, all our days from now until we reach the border with Spain are less than 35 miles – the Jenny and Liz model of cycling – which I prefer. In fact we both like it. 

The surprise is a sweet, quirky cabin on the edge of Cazaux. No sauna in sight. Instead the soft purr of air conditioning and a wall of blissful cold air greeted us as we walked in. Everything is on to charge and we’ve had some cool recovery time sitting on a comfy sofa. We should probably go out and explore the area but I think that is extremely unlikely to happen. What is certain to happen imminently is steak, chips and salad for dinner as Philip continues to fulfil his duties for the day. Then, when this blog post is written and uploaded, I get to clear up.