Notre Tour de France #22 (S:67 mi)

The hunt for dinner last night did not go well. In fact, it could not have gone worse. The closest corner shop would have been closed by the time I arrived, and the same for the supermarket, which lay a good few kilometres yonder of this. The campsite owners rustle up some food, but were fully booked for the evening. The only remaining (semi-viable) option was ice cream… but this hardly makes a nutritious substitute for a proper meal.

As with yesterday, the morning was wrapped in a thick blanket of fog, but by mid-morning this had dissipated to leave a rather beautiful day. I set off on my bike in search for some breakfast, and found what I was after in a supermarket a few miles away - more müsli and milk. I then set about finding somewhere nice to, as Jwan puts it, gobble it down. Well, I certainly earnt my breakfast as I inadvertently had myself climb what must have been every hill in the local vicinity.

Eventually I came across a bench just outside of a little village. There were no views as such, but it was a fantastic breakfast. I had myself a generous portion, listened to the birds singing, the insects chirruping and got lost in the world of Stephen King again. It would be a tough meal to beat.

From here I made my way north-east to Bourdeilles, a village recommended to me by my grandparents. I wasn't let down, it was a beautiful place. I sat on stone bridge across the river and ate lunch, and I dare say it was better than breakfast this morning. The dictionary definition of tranquility should have a picture of this place. As I sat there on the bridge, I watched a father load his three children into a dingy just below me on the river. Once in, he sat himself at the back, pushed off the river bank and put his hands behind his head whilst his children rowed him into the distance. And that's how it should be done!

My Nana advised me I could cycle to Brantôme from here at a distance of 11km along a quiet country road, and she wasn't wrong. As I left Bourdeilles, there was the road sign telling me to turn right to Brantôme - at a distance of exactly 11km. Well remembered.

Brantôme was another beautiful village, though there were quite a few more tourists there. When Jwan and I pack up tomorrow morning and start heading west back to the coast, we'll be passing through both of these villages again. I don't mind. I could get used to visiting either on a regular basis.