Notre Tour de France #12 (S:50mi / J:6 mi)

Yesterday evening we were presented with a clear blue sky, tarnished not with a single cloud. It must have stayed this way overnight as we both awoke a little chilly and had to snuggle down into the warmth of our sleeping bags. This morning we rolled back down into the centre of Luçon for about 08:30. There was a mist hanging about and were perhaps just a little early as places were preparing to open. A coffee later, we were exploring the streets of the town centre. I also noticed, by accident, Luçon was the starting point of the Tour de France in 1993, commemorated by a sign sat in the town centre.

Jwan purchased himself a rather dashing flat cap, and he did so at just the right time as well. A 30% off sale started today at the shop where he made his purchase. Before long the aforementioned mist burnt off to leave us with a crisp, blue sky. It looks like our solar charger will completely recharge its battery pack today.

We found a pretty garden hidden away in Luçon, with water features, a lake, lots of flowers and hedges trimmed into the shapes of animals and people. Certainly something we wouldn't have found it we were on the bikes.

There's nothing else worthy of note for the morning, unless I mention the two albino German shepherds (according to Jwan) that walked past with their owner, at which point Jwan says "Look at their testicles", to which I replied "No thanks, mate".

Upon returning to the campsite from town, we went our separate ways. Jwan spent the afternoon sunbathing and socialising with some of the campsite residents, where I again took to the bike. I headed south-west to a place that will again ring a bell with some of the readers of this blog: L'Aiguillon-sur-Mer. I had a nosey at the beach before making my way north-west along the coast to La Tranche-sur-Mer. As I was passing through this place, a weird thing happened. The road curved round to the right, with a junction for a minor road straight ahead, next to a corner shop. All of a sudden recognition of this particular junction slapped me in the face. Perhaps 8 years ago I stayed at a campsite in this area with my family and I remember cycling this particular stretch of road all those years ago. The minor road to the side of the corner shop, I could remember, took one to the beach.

I stopped my bike, turned around, and navigated myself towards this old campsite without thinking too much about it. 15 minutes later, I had found it! Camping Le Clos Cottet. It looked very busy indeed and I recognised parts of it such as the swimming pool and barbecue area. I stopped off at the toilet block to refill my water bottles, but for some reason I was attracting some strange looks from the residents and a cleaner. Perhaps it was the sweat dripping off my face? Either way, I made myself a hasty retreat and headed back towards our campsite in Luçon.

One thing I did want to mention in this blog concerns our senses. When we think about going on holiday, we can imagine the scenery and the climate, but what you don't, or what I don't think about are the sounds and smells of going on holiday. For sounds, there are the insects chirping in the grass. There are the songs of birds that aren't resident back at home and, as Jwan mentioned, being surrounded by a foreign tongue. Being a non-French speaking Englishman can feel a little alien sometimes.

For the smells, there is the smell of crops and fruit growing in passing fields. I cycled through a village earlier and the smell of peaches was that strong, I could taste it in my mouth. There are the smells of forests, flowers in the gardens, cheese in the markets and criossants baking in the boulangerie in the mornings. I love it.