Caped Crusaders

I heard lots of watery sounds at about 6am and decided that either one of our hosts was having a vigorous shower or it was chucking it with rain. Alas, it was the latter.

But no matter for a while because first we had breakfast to look forward to. There was a door which joined our accommodation to their half of the house which they kept locked but said they would unlock it for breakfast at 8, so that we could go through to the dining room. At about thirty seconds to 8, we heard the key turn in the lock. Breakfast was excellent and we sat in a magnificent room to eat it. The size of the wardrobes alone was something to marvel at. The French still take their wardrobes seriously (quite right too) and it didn't stretch the imagination much to consider finding a lion or a witch in this particular structure.

Our hosts were lovely. By far the most welcoming so far and happy to communicate despite the fact that all conversation was in French.

In the end, though, we had to set off in heavy rain. Cue, our capes. No one wears capes anymore. But we do. They are splendid pieces of kit. Great big orange tents complete with hoods which fit under your helmet. Our hosts did themselves proud by showing restraint as we donned them while they watched. Any true feelings they had about them were reserved for after our departure. Not so, the dogs of the little village of Le Pizou. Every dog leapt into a frenzy of barking as we negotiated the little lanes. Some ran up to their boundaries, others stayed by their doors and barked from a safe distance. By the time we reached the end of the village, we were helpless with laughter despite the rain. Heavy rain continued for the first half an hour of the ride. Then out came the sun. Off came the capes to the relief of the canine population and on went the sun cream.

We made quite speedy progress for the first 30 miles, not needing to stop for refreshments after our copious breakfasts.

St. Astier was the location for our coffee and pain au chocolat stop. We felt quite tired over the next 15 miles before our lunch stop. We were cycling delightful little lanes with plenty to look at but were ready to stop when we reached Perigueux.

We ploughed through the suburbs and when we spotted a church spire we knew that we were arriving at the 'business end' of the town. The bit full of little squares, quaint artisan shops and restaurants. We had decided that today we were going to eat a proper meal out so we stopped in a square near the church (cathedral?) and ate Salmon (Kate) and entrecote steak (me). The steak was delicious and had probably spent just a couple of minutes near some heat.

(I remember recently hearing a Yorkshire farmer in Hawes saying to someone that his steak was so rare that a good vetinaray would have had it back on its feet.)

The last miles were up hill in heat and we found them hard going. Over 63 miles today.

We were relieved to arrive at our accommodation which is a very grand house in the hills in the middle of nowhere.

Now I know you won't want to know this but, for the integrity of the blog, it must be noted that when we arrived, we stank. I was a mass of sweat and Kate was 'glowing'. We sometimes get the feeling that our hosts aren't overjoyed when they first meet us. It was straight to the showers and all clothes washed as well as our persons then back down to drink our coffee and show the hosts what well-groomed people we really are.

If this blog gets sent tonight it will be a miracle. The WiFi is very sketchy. I won't even attempt photos.

We have shared a baguette and sat in the amazing garden drinking a coffee. I think that's us about done. Kate is nursing a plethora of big mosi bites and we are both mindful that tomorrow is one of the two remaining days of big climbs.

If we survive tomorrow, I think we'll have legs the size of Leicester. Or Letchworth. Or Cleethorpes. I think I must be tired