After all the beauty that I saw today, I didn’t expect that I would end up camped in a shitty clearing, listening to the rush of a major roadway. I had traveled inland to find a supermarket, panic unnecessarily about not having enough food for dinner,
I was pitched in the corner of a vineyard, but the sound of an approaching tractor, working its way up and down the rows, made my nervous enough, to pack up again and scurry away. This afternoons ride was terrrific. The sort of unspoilt coastline dotted with historic villages that I had been dreaming of in the morning when I was pedalling through strips of ice cream vendors, tinket jewlery stres, and sea facing apartments like ugly cliffs. The architectural legacy of the german fortifications that are collapsed along the coast. Blocks of sinking concrete.
I had a great start to the day, blazing out from my pine beach forest early and racing along smooth roads to the cheers of encouraging lycrists. I found a small beach town, its venders getting ready for the day, laying out their fruit, bread, or tundling out racks of bright summer dresses. there is an excited busyness. everyone expects a good day, a dose of summer.
Along the esplidaed I mnade the most decadent porridge yet, of honey and apples, and fresh strawberrys.
Long Lunch in Talmont sur Mer, in sight of The White Tour, a church standing against the sea. The picnic tables are so high that everybodys legs are off the ground, and even the adults can kick their feet as they eat baguette. John Fahey joins me on wide open roads along the Gironde and on the up and downs of Bourg vineyards.
The a little more unitl a long rest in Cubnezais tomorrow.
