By Liz

Miles : 40. Ascent : 633’.

The day started with a sighting of a tree creeper outside the upstairs door that, when open, allowed in a tiny amount of signal so we could connect with the world. We breakfasted on ripe peach and pear with vanilla Greek yogurt (heavenly) and scrambled eggs with fried mushrooms. It’s not so easy to stop for snacks when it’s pouring with rain. 

The first ten miles were alongside the canal, the path smooth and the miles easy, despite the constant rain and headwind. We were togged up and perfectly happy. Philip, in contact lenses, continued to spot kingfishers, while I in my rain logged specs settled for being able to make out the obstacles along the trail, piles of fat acorns, clusters of sweet chestnuts and the odd branch. Yellow leaves floated down from overhanging trees and landed in the water. Autumn is coming. 

After around 11 miles we crossed the canal and continued on the other side. This provided some surprisingly welcome variety, even though no more than a change of side. What’s more, as Philip pointed out a kingfisher in flight on this stretch, I was able to make it out. Thereafter I kept my eyes open for raises of Philip’s neon left arm, easily visible and indicating a sighting, and managed to see several more. 

In Guarec we stopped and bought the last baked goods in the town, well, one of the last of three baguettes and the absolute last pastry, a pain au chocolat, which we shared. Bedraggled, wet and filthy, we sat at a picnic table in the open-sided market hall. A jovial group of French people were setting up a picnic at the next table, they emanated such happiness I offered to take a photo for them. I cheerfully declined their reciprocal offer. We looked like drowned rats. 

The rain eased after about 17 miles, just as the route took us inland through farmland with open views of beautiful russet fields, mature trees and welcome, warm sunlight. A message popped up on my phone, to the work WhatsApp group, from a colleague stuck in traffic on the A3. I looked around and thought to myself, Beth, I think you’d almost certainly rather be here. 

We stopped for lunch with 28 miles under our belts. We were back on the Nantes-Brest canal path and happily set up our own picnic in the sunshine, hanging up our waterproofs to dry. I was glad to put on my down jacket and warm up. A French cyclist in his way to Nantes stopped for a chat and we exchanged a few ‘Dis donc’s around the morning’s rainfall. Most laden cyclists along the route are friendly and look older than us, or it’s possible they actually look the same as us – I just don’t feel as old as they look, though I probably am. The couple on holiday with their dog are younger. We leap frogged with them again this afternoon and I took a picture as they passed. The dog is as cute as can be and loves it. 

The afternoon’s cycling was very pleasant alongside the wide waterway, cool with sunny spells and a strong wind that was even behind us at times. Every so often an interpretation board displayed an old picture of the canal or a nearby lock and keeper’s cottage. Mature trees lined both banks, with fields in various states of cultivation on the other side of them. 

We are staying in the historical town of Pontivy in an old building in a garden that feels hidden away. It’s very fancy but doesn’t have a roasting tin or shelves in the oven so Philip is downstairs being ingenious. One way or another tonight we will feast on roasted veg and halloumi. If we’re lucky we may get to watch our wedding video: finding, converting and uploading it to YouTube was my weightless and sizeless anniversary present to Philip. We haven’t seen it in years. Thank you Clive, if you’re reading this, for making it for us 35 years ago.