Woke early to the sound of wind and rain assaulting the tent, unzipped to have a peek out and the sight of sheeting rain being whipped across the valley, which itself was obscured in the grey wetness, persuaded me that we were going to have a lay-in today.
By eleven it was still bad and we decided to stay put another night and assuming the weather would clear later, take the short ride into Gacé and see what it had to offer a couple of fair weather cycle bums.
The answer, we discovered, was not a lot. A pretty fountain in the little central square, a few bars and shops, and some historical thing about a dame and her castle that the tourist board probably made up anyway. The weather was clearing and we sat by the fountain eating a picnic lunch and watching the world go by. Like most French towns the place was very tidy. No rubbish blowing about and well tended shrubs, trees and plants. Even the local teenage hooded gangster massive possee who were giving it large on the other side of the square dutifully plodded across the car park to drop their lager cans into the designated recycling recepticle.
Eventually having relaxed to the point of rather needing a little nap, we set off with our food sack packed with bavette steak, some blue cheese, some cheap but tasty wine, and some local butter made in the town of Camembert, which was very creamy, but smelt a bit like cheesey sick.
Back at camp the late afternoon sun was now blazing across the filled valley. The grass had dried and we sat amongst the buttercups sipping wine and using the pocket binoculars to pick out details from the rural landscape below us. Eventually the sun fell behind the trees, the mosquitos emerged and we retreated to the tent for steaks with blue cheese salad and new potatoes.