Day 10: Vigeois

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The day starts chilly and grey and there is a damp mist blowing over the lake. I cycle into Vigeois for breakfast in the Cafe de la Place which has a friendly proprietor who has been there 22 years. I enquire about a family friend and discover his address. I also learn that the church and the mediaeval stone bridge over the Vezere have been renovated recently.

I head into Uzerche, which is about 10km away, finding a quiet back route that I only recently discovered. I need to book my return train trip to Calais, preferably for tomorrow. On the way I pass an alarming group of heavily armed men intent on hunting down the last remaining wild boar of the region.

Uzerche is an imposing town built on a hill within a loop of the Vezere, and happens to be hosting an international music festival featuring musicians from the Royal Northern College of Music. On the hill a mediaeval building is adorned by a protest notice presumably erected by its tenants: "contrary to the wishes of the occupants of this building, the mayor's office persists in floodlighting it - thanks a lot!"

I am reminded that the train station of Uzerche is some way out of town. After a long booking process, I end up with a ticket covering me and my bike, both with reserved places, to Calais via Paris. Despite frequently reminding the lady I need to go to Calais Ville and not Calais Frethun (which is out in the sticks some way from Calais) I end up with a ticket to the latter. There is no alternative if I want to travel tomorrow.

I want to get hold of a map of the route from Calais Frethun to the ferry, and find a cyber cafe up the hill in Uzerche. On entering I am told they are closed for lunch. I persuade the man that I won't take a mo, and a few minutes later emerge with a Google Maps printout. This shows Frethun and Calais, which don't seem too far apart. The key fact which I only discover later is that the train station Calais Frethun is nowhere near Frethun - a foolish assumption on my part.

The choice for dinner this evening is - not surpisingly as it is the only place open - the Hotel du Midi again. This is no hardship however, as the food is excellent. I venture further with my French conversation, and reminisce with the patronne about one of her predecessors who had violent arguments with her husband the chef and who insisted on rigid timekeeping by her customers. Dinner would start at 7:00PM EXACTLY and if you were foolish enough to linger too long after the meal was served, you would find your feet being swept up around by the staff as you savoured your brandy. Do I remember her? Yes, says the current patronne, in fact she was a customer here last night - and would you believe it, she always arrives late!

As I finish my meal I get a call from the family friend who has seen the note I left stuck in his door earlier, so I visit him and his wife for a nice chat about old times before cycling back to the campsite. I make a mental note to bring proper bike lights next time. I have to choose between wearing a head-mounted light pointing forwards, so I can see where I am going, or backwards, so a car behind me can see me. The former seems marginally safer. Fortunately there is absolutely no traffic.

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