The Trip - Part 2

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After 8 days of breaking camp and moving on, although I didn't always do lots of miles, I treated myself to a day off in Paimpont. It's a small town in the middle of the Paimpont Forest which is associated with Arthurian legend. Lots of places to visit, such as Merlin's Tomb but my tired legs only made it as far as the local bar which was showing Le Tour all afternoon. At last, a French bar with Le Tour on instead of horse racing. Yep, amazingly gambling on the horses seems more important in most places that the biggest big race in the world. Unfortunately my lack of planning ahead meant I had to do 25km on my rest day in search of fuel for my stove and some extra food. I found the food but not fuel but I just about had enough for another day or so. Eventually, after a couple of days searching I picked up some bar-b-q lighting fluid which thankfully did the trick and was very cheap. With a full fuel bottle I was making cups of tea every chance I got.

On my new route west, heading to Vannes I had the first rain of the trip, not bad after 2 weeks away. The first lot was just after stopping at a bakery so that gave me a chance to hide under the trees and eat my morning treat. The next lot was at lunchtime where I luckily had cover, a big thunder storm to clear the air, I don't mind that kind of rain. In Vannes itself it really came down, manhole covers being lifted up, roads flooded. The good thing was that the rain would stop as quickly as it started. Daily showers carried on for pretty much the rest of the trip, sun, wind with the odd shower that was easy to shelter from so I did pretty well. The last couple of days had persistent periods of rain, funny that, the closer I got the the UK the wetter it got, coincidence or not?

On the way into Vannes I caught up with a fellow tourer who happened to be English so at last I could have a decent conversation. Toby had travelled up from Santander and was on his way up the coast too. I think he was also suffering a bit from the lack of company on the road so we ended up deciding to head to the same camp site in Carnac. Was very good to be able to set up camp and cook whilst having someone to chat away to and talk bikes, travels and all sorts of rubbish to. We had pretty similar routes in mind so ended up travelling together along the coast to Roscoff over the next 7 days. Our meeting up proved to be a stroke of luck really, not just from a having company point of view but also having someone to help battle against the headwinds for the best part of 5 days. Also, the camp sites got a lot more expensive once you hit the coast so having 2 people on one pitch kept costs down. We found some pretty cool beaches along this part of the coast, had a few swims along the way but didn't quite get the weather needed for a proper beach day.

After a rest day in Roscoff and having time to take in the firework 'spectacular' as part of the Bastille Day celebrations (not really all that spectacular, I've seen better fireworks in Wotton) but a good night out, Toby and myself headed separate ways. He was off on a ferry to Plymouth and I was carrying on East. I had seriously considered heading south for the warmth and sun but after investigating ferry prices and availability from Santander decided I'd be rushing the route and not able to take it in as much as I'd like to. Maybe I'll save that for another time.

After spending lots of time with someone it was actually good to be on the road alone again. Able to travel at my own pace and more importantly pack at my own pace, I'm not good at rushing those things as the fact I left my toiletry bag in Carnac proved. Who needs deoderant anyway........hmmmm, maybe that's why people didn't stop to chat to me for long. Over 8 days of riding I made my way along the coast and eventually caught the ferry from Cherbourg over to Poole. For the last few days I headed away from the coast once again. I'd had enough of lots of people, full camp sites and expensive prices. The last few days riding were really good. I'd barely see a car on the country lanes although I did get chased by several dogs on the last 2 days. One of which was really big, honest, I've never been so glad of a slight downhill in all my life.

I'd planned on camping wild at some point on my trip but after finding quiet camp sites for 4 Euros at the start of the trip this idea suddenly became less appealing. The shower at the end of the day was one of the highlights and whilst not being able to have big conversations with people it was still a chance to have a quick chat with people in my rubbish French. However, on the way towards Carentan I'd had enough of the busy places on the coast so was doing my best to find a suitable piece of woodland to stay in. I didn't really have a huge amount of luck though as most of it seems to have been cut down in this part of France. The only woodland within 20 miles had big signs warning of a danger. Danger from what I wasn't sure as the rest of the sign was in French. A couple of looks with the bike into the wood didn't reveal any good spots to rest up for the night, it was really boggy and I decided the danger was probably sinking into the ground. Thankfully neither the bike or me got stuck. I the end, the camp site at Carentan was cheap and very quiet so it worked out well in the end.

I was glad to be on my way back home but had really enjoyed the experience of travelling around France. The people were really friendly, I'd been given fresh bread a couple of times by fellow campers, beers and plenty of waves as I was riding along or getting ready to ride my bike of a morning. As I said before people would say hello at every opportunity, even at the urinals, which could be slightly off putting. Next time I will make much more of an effort to learn a few more words of the local language, my French language lessons from school didn't come flooding back to me like I'd hoped, which isn't surprising I suppose considering how long ago that was now 😞. Another noticeable thing was the considerate way in which cars would treat cyclists compared to here in the UK. Obviously there are exceptions to every rule but people in France seemed a lot more patient. Maybe that's a result of the popularity of cycling there or possibly the more relaxed and slower pace of life, in that part of France at least. People don't seem to be in as much of a rush to get anywhere.

Poole was grey and wet when I arrived but an invite for breakfast from some fellow cycle tourers I'd met on the ferry, who happened to live in Poole, really helped get me on my way. I neglected to tell them I'd already had a fry up on the ferry as we were coming into port but you can never eat too much. Instead of heading north to Bristol I decided to visit an old friend down in Plymouth which meant riding into a headwind for a couple of days. 10 miles outside of Poole I caught up with a 73 year old out on his road bike. We had a bit of a chat and then I followed him through the lanes, whilst receiving a guided tour of all the local points of interest. He was on his way to meet some cycling friends in Dorchester for their weekly ride so I had a mid morning tea stop with them. At the age of 73 he was still doing 100km road rides a couple of times a week, hope my knees hold out that well!

The two days ride to Plymouth were some of the hardest of my trip, the hills are evil. I've never been so glad to finish a ride and to be greeted with a beer, thanks Wayne. I almost didn't make it though, 500m from my friends house I was riding with my mobile in my hand under the impression I was safely in the village of Holbeton. I didn't count on the steep downhill, the single track lane and the Audi speeding up the hill. Somehow with one brake I managed to squeeze by and not end up smashing up the front of the car and myself! After 2400 km of riding, that was my scariest moment. Well, almost as scary as the amount of food I've been eating since I got back. I think it's taken the best part of two weeks of eating a silly amount, even for me, to start feeling full again.

After a week in Devon and Cornwall, getting rained on with strong winds that spoiled our sea kayaking plans, I didn't fancy a 3 days ride to Bristol and cheated by letting the train take the strain. It was good to get home, a trip like this made me appreciate home, family and friends a lot more. I'd only been away for 5 weeks and only to a neighbouring developed country, so nothing extreme or vastly different to the UK, but that time spent on my own and out of my comfort zone gave me a different perspective on a lot of things so for that alone it was worth it.

And that's the end. I hope you are still awake. The trip was really good to have done but I think the next touring trip I do will be with someone, just to make it a bit more interesting and I'll make sure I set off with a definite route in mind or at least a finishing point. Travelling by bike is a great way to get around, as long as you don't need to go a long way in a short amount of time obviously.

Right, now I suppose I'd better start looking for some work. Anyone got a job going 😉

For anyone interested I've added Part 3 which shows the daily mileage and places I visited on my travels.

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Photos

Paimpont
Me and Pen the pink pig.

Toby on the Ferry
On the ferry to Brest, our time saving ferry service. Think we cut out a good two and a half hours off the days ride by taking the boat.

Near Lampaul Plouarzel
Took a while for the hungry tired cyclists to find but we got there eventually.

Roscoff
The beach 30 seconds from the tent, good times.

Tea on the Beach
After dinner I took my tea on the beach. Could have done without the 2nd consecutive day of gales though. Le Mont St Michel in the background.

Carentan
The last place I visited in France. Celebrated with cheap French wine and german beer, not a good mix.