Ricardo

A Friday morning breakfast of porridge and green tea was followed by the roar of an engine and the flash of 3 dazzling headlights, heralding the arrival of Richard, fresh off the St Malo ferry and on his way to meet with the Mrs down in Verona. We rode into the village together for coffee before going our separate ways.

The weather was looking dodgy and I'd be lucky not to get caught in some rain. Sure enough, within 30 mins of setting off, a similar downpour to yesterday's began, but this time there was no village in which to take shelter. I stood under a tree in the gateway to a farm, ate a KitKat and waited for it to pass. Thankfully that was my only encounter with heavy rain for the whole day. Back on the saddle I soon dried off, and after a few miles of road found the piste again, this time heading west.

I stopped in one village for a coffee but had lunch supplies with me, so was able to stay on the track and stop in the country to eat. Later in the day the signs were confusing. I decided to follow the sign to Loudéac, not the gps, and ended up on tarmac in a long, steady and quite steep climb. After what must have been several miles I emerged at the top of a hill with commanding views, but rather spoilt by a proliferation of ugly wind turbines. (Surely they do more harm than good to the envionment!) The descent was fun, although into the wind, and when I realised it would deposit me on a main road, I turned south and made my way back to the piste I had left earlier, which took me on a sheltered route into Loudéac. I wouldn't say it was the most picturesque town, but it had some shops which were open (a rare thing in France, it would seem) and even one which would sell me what I needed. ("Eau? Non, nous n'avons pas d'eau!" as though I'd asked for something stupid.)

I found the local camping on the east side of the town and set up. A very nice, spacious site, uncrowded and with good facilities and a lake, it happens also to be next to a major road, so the hum of traffic was audible all night.