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Published: August 31st 2008
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I passed a pleasant night, punctuated by the occasional renewed burst of activity from the starlings (presumably when one of them fell off its perch or poked a neighbour in the ribs) and by the most odd chiming of the church bells. At one time I clearly hear them strike 19. I poke my head out of the tent to find a blue sky and a buzzard perched close by on a tree, eyeing up the bamboo grove. Shortly after, the starlings fly off to all points of the compass and silence reigns. I am not sure if the buzzard got his breakfast.
I leave Le Dorat passing the tiny station where a single track non-electrified line still operates an infrequent service, I think to Bellac and beyond.
The route into Bellac crosses the river Gartempe. I am now noticing some different wild flower smells, especially an aniseed smell. Entering Bellac I notice in the bakery a poster for the 41st Cycling Tour du Limousin, for which the date is 20 August - yesterday! I am lucky to have missed this, because I subsequently see signs of roads which are part of my route having been closed for this.
Also an old geezer on a laden touring bike does not tend to compare well with fit young racing cyclists on high-tech bikes, so I was pleased not to be seen in this context.
I zoom down a steep hill to the river, thinking this is the obvious place to find a café for breakfast. It is very picturesque here and there is a beautiful mediaeval bridge - but no café. I need my breakfast so there is no alternative but to trudge back up the hill to the one I passed earlier.
Heading out of Bellac is slightly tricky as it involves crossing the bridge and picking up a very minor road. I think I have it cracked thanks to the compass, but in fact I take a slight wrong turn which involves a steep uphill climb, to applause from a local farmer who hears the puffing and wheezing. I end up on the road to Blond.
From Blond there is a steady climb up the range of hills known as the Monts de Blond. This is very picturesque forest, mainly chestnut trees, interspersed with meadows and heathland. The road winds a bit and I encounter
the alarming sight of a white van embedded in the ditch. I peer in but fortunately there is no-one trapped inside. This route is very peaceful and the only sound is that of the buzzards wheeling overhead. Finally I emerge on the southern side of this range of hills, and find myself admiring a wide uninterrupted view over the Limousin. This is a real milestone. The sun is out and it is a satifying whizz down past the Limousin cattle towards Cieux.
After Cieux I take the road to Oradour-sur-Glane, where the preserved ruins of the old village are now a monument to one of the worst atrocities of the Second World War, where the entire village was massacred by the Nazis. Beyond the new village I pick up a right turn down the D3 to St Victurnien. This is a small village due west of Limoges, on the river Vienne, and there is a pleasant picnic spot overlooking the bridge and the river. I am approached by some ducks who promptly head off in the other direction when they realise my lunch consists of mousse au canard.
As I go further into the Limousin I become aware
of a distinctly more rural atmosphere. I see cars on the road that I thought were extinct years ago (a Renault 4, a Citroen Dyane, a Simca) and it is also apparent that people are talking with much more of a Midi twang to their accents.
The very minor road along the south of the Vienne is not signposted as going anywhere other than to small farms, but I trust my map and this trust proves not to be misplaced. It seems clear that if you follow the road with the river close on your left you should end up in Aixe-sur-Vienne, which I do.
I join a short section of the N21 into Aixe, which is the busiest piece of road I have experienced on this trip. The Office de Tourisme is helpful and there is a campsite down by the river, but it is only 3PM and the traffic over the bridge puts me off. They tell me there is a campsite in Nexon, and as this is only another 16km I decide to press on.The site in Nexon is 1km out of town by a lake. The gardien is playing an important game of boules
and asks if I can come and pay later, so I pitch my tent and take a slightly muddy dip in the lake. There is a warning notice about some variety of algae that is best not to ingest, but parents are letting children splash around so I take the plunge while keeping my head well above water and showering afterwards.
The walk back to town for dinner takes me through the walled grounds of the chateau, which is in the town and has been taken over as the Hotel de Ville. There is a Tourist Office here and I ask for restaurant recommendations. There are two. The first proves to be closed for “Conges Annuelles”. The second is a long walk down the hill and turns out to only serve food at lunchtime. However the patronne here seems sympathetic. I have a drink and start to trudge back up the hill, only to hear a voice behind me calling me back. The patronne has spoken to her husband the chef who has offered to produce a meal for me! They serve a delicious four course meal with wine and coffee and charge me 12.80 euros (I leave 15).
What nice people! It’s the Bar Restaurant Frederic Massy on the Avenue Charles De Gaulle.
As one of the patrons leaves the bar, he asks if I am enjoying my holiday (les vacances se passent bien?) in such a strong Midi twang and so many added syllables it takes me several attempts to figure out what he said!
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