The day started badly when I reached for my big bargain bag of ‘pain au raisins’ which I’d been looking forward to for breakfast. Somehow, despite being sellotaped into a plastic bag they’d become infested with theiving dirty ants. Dozens of them seemed to be having a whale of a time inside the plastic, running about over the sticky, fruity buns. Kez pointed out that the sealed plastic bag had two small air holes in the base which I hadn’t noticed, and that’s clearly how one had found its way in, before inviting the whole family for a run round a great new sugary playground it had discovered. I considered just knocking the ants off and eating the buns anyway, like a sailor with a weevil infested ship’s biscuit, but the ants had found their way into all the nooks and crannies of the folded dough, and swearing loudly at mother nature I flung them far out of the tent in a tantrum. Things didn’t get any better when I walked to the nearest boulangerie for replacement breakfast fodder, only to realise I didn’t have my wallet, and then when I eventually made it back to camp we couldn’t find it, which lumped a dose of mild panic onto my already substantial pile of annoyance.
Thanfully the wallet turned up. I cycled this time to the boulangerie and was able to purchase fantastic fresh pain au raisins of the sort I’d been looking forward to.
Luckily the day got better after that. Perfect blue sky, warm sun and a pleasant breeze cheered us as we cycled the Loire. Groups of racing cyclists streamed past us with hearty ‘bonjour!’s, and the scenery was beautiful. We cruised through small towns built onto, or often into the chalky cliffs which rose from the South bank above us, and the tree lined river swept along to our left, glistening in the sun.
This stretch is known for its troglodytes, or cave dwellers, referring to the many homes built into caves in the cliffs, the people of which presumably earning a living from the vineyards on top and beneath the craggy rock faces. We had a brief wander around the quiet Sunday streets of Saumur before completing our gentle twenty miles at a three star camp site in Montsoreau, a smallish town, again built into the cliffs, which is known for a splendid chateau which sits high up looking out over the Loire. Walking up through the narrow, paved streets, ancient yellow bricked buildings, and worn stone steps we met an Australian couple, Geoff and Jeanne, who were also staying at the camp site. He turned out to be a keen cycle tourist who had travelled quite extensively in France on a recumbent cycle, although they were currently with car. We had a pleasant stroll over the vineyard topped hill and back down through the town, chatting about bikes and tents as the sun went down over the river, turning a deep yolky orange and glistening off the steam from a distant nuclear power station nestled in a foresty loop of the Loire.