Last day of our cycle trip.
Reviewing today’s itinerary last night during another fabulous seafood meal (plus ad hoc plate of veges for the vegetarian), we discovered a discrepancy between the map and the GPS route of over 15 kms. Looking at the two route maps side by side, it was clear they weren’t the same. Call us paranoid, but that didn’t seem a good omen for a smooth day’s travel. So, I sent another late night message to Patrick.
Initially he wasn’t that receptive: “I’ve checked and they are the same” – it’s a wonder he didn’t ask to speak to my husband. But when I sent these pictures he recanted.
Anyway, by this morning we had the updated route installed in the GPS and we were ready to go.
As has been our good fortune for most of our trip, the rain stayed away for this, our longest day’s travel of 56k. We decided our best chance of not getting lost was to share the navigation duties. Kirsten went in front with the written instructions, I followed with the Garmin, and Simon brought up the rear with the muscle bike.
With 590 metres of climb over the course of the day, he had plenty on his plate.
This actually worked extremely well, and if it wasn’t for the ever more insistent call of nature that I was being pestered with, it would have been a very straightforward day. Typically for France, I couldn’t find a toilet anywhere when I needed it most. I briefly contemplated relieving myself in the bushes but I was worried the combined effects of several breakfasts worth of prunes and a couple of coffees might deliver more than I’d bargained for. In the end we found a tiny dark old restaurant in the middle of a country lane that I persuaded to open early to give me a coffee, so I could then use the toilets. As it happened their WC was a long drop out in the garden, but it had toilet paper and even soap by the sink. Sadly it turned out that the taps were decorative only, and didn’t seem to produce any water no matter what I did, which probably explained the pristine state of the soap. But I didn’t mind, I was so relieved. I had been right to be cautious about the alfresco option. I washed my hands from my bottle of drinking water and gave the man 5 euros for his insipid cup of coffee with only gratitude in my heart.
We had hoped to stop for lunch somewhere en route but sadly we couldn’t find anywhere during the golden hour of 12-2. This hardly mattered though, as we made such good time that we were back in Guingamp before 2. As we re-entered the town square, it really felt like coming home. It’s been a great trip in spite of our navigation difficulties, and we really dodged a bullet with the rain.
I messaged Patrick to say we’d made it back and he said bravo! And also that our French was extremely good. I suspect he’s nervous about any feedback we might give about the tour.
We checked back into our hotel, and sallied forth for a lunch of galettes to be followed by a little light shopping. I must confess, both of us ladies were far more successful with the latter than I had expected, and several hundred euros later I’m still very excited with my purchases. I’m looking forward to being able to tell people that compliment my new outfits in the coming months “Thanks!! I bought it in France!”