Day 33 — Thursday 2 June 2011

Availles Limouzine – Montmorillon

I cycled 20 miles further than shown, as I did the first 10 miles three times. The morning dawned with bright sunshine and reasonably warm, so I put out my solar panel battery charger in full sunshine next to the tent to get as much charge as possible, having emptied it the previous evening recharging my GPS device. I packed up as normal, said goodbye to the Dutch people in the adjacent caravan, and set off towards Le Blanc, nearly 80 kilometres away. Immediately out of the campsite there was a stiff pull out of the Vienne valley but after that there was straight, flat riding and I sped along enjoying myself. Having spent a couple of days weaving in and out of small lanes I relaxed into the predictable route along the D34 followed by the D729.

I dropped down to the River Blourde, pulled up at the ‘T’ junction with the D10 for a breather and noticed that the solar panel was not in its usual place strapped to my rear pannier. I knew immediately exactly where it was, propped up in the sun on the campsite at Availles. I debated for a couple of minutes whether to just carry on, but in the end decided that the argument for putting right my stupidity and going back to recover the solar panel was stronger. So back I went, probably quicker than I had come, spurred on by my annoyance. At the campsite the Dutch couple were lounging in the sun but as soon as they saw me walking down the drive they got the solar panel from their caravan. They had found it lying in the grass and had picked it up for safe keeping on the off-chance that I would come back for it. I thanked them, shook hands and rode off again.

By now it was lunch time and there was no point in retracing my steps immediately as I’d not passed any restaurants on the way back to the River Blourde, so I found the bar where I’d spent the previous evening and had lunch. I decided not to try to get to Le Blanc that evening, but to look for the municipal site at Montmorillon.

I rode back to the ‘T’ junction, stopping to take a photograph where a footpath crosses the road and a small brook. I carried on along the D729 to Adriers, crossing a number of small streams in steep little valleys. Just after leaving Adriers I had stopped to check my map when two other cyclists passed me and stopped for a chat. They were looking for a campsite, and I told them I was heading for Montmorillon where I was pretty sure there was a municipal site, so we set off together, and covered the remaining 20 kilometres through Moulismes quite quickly, taking it in turns to set the pace. In Montmorillon we all stopped to ask a passing lady for directions, and I realised just how poor my French was as I listened to my companions chat with her fluently. There were signs for the campsite across the River Gartempe and we were charged the smallest amount of any site I had been to so far, possibly only €3 each, but my memory has faded. The showers were hot and I hung my washing from a tree next to my tent before we all rode into Montmorillon for a supper of mussels.

Jean and Freddie were Belgians and Flemish was their first language, which they described as being similar to Dutch but with fewer swear words. In fact they were fluent in Flemish, Dutch, French, German, English and probably a lot more, so I felt a very poor relation. They would not drink wine, much preferring beer when it was available. They had flown to Carcasson from Belgium and joined a group of cyclists following a route along the Pyrenees, but after a few days had left the group and were now making their way home by bicycle. We had a good evening together.