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Camping down by the Vonne at the foot of the hill town of Lusignac, the temperature dropped sharply overnight and I got up to a tent soaked in dew.
Climbing back up through the town and up towards Vivonne, I found these fields of golden wheat and of poppies.
A short pause at Vivonne for croissants and then on to Château Larcher, which is known less for its ruined medieval castle, which dominates the small town, than for its 6 m high 13th century "lanterne des morts" in the cemetery.
On through Gençay, past the handsome hotel.
On the way to Usson-du-Poitou there were several fields of blue flowers.
This is perhaps flax (linseed) being grown as a "green manure" to be ploughed back into the soil.
A long lunch break and tent drying opportunity at the large peaceful Jardins de la Clouère.
Then a straight 15 km on to L'Isle-Jourdain.
My first visit to an unmanned "Camping-Car-Park" site. You pay a machine which issues a card (supposedly) granting access to the site facilities. It wasn't only me who found himself unable to get into the washhouse using his electronic card. A French cycle tourist, even more weathered and haggard than me, was in the same boat. After a while we spotted a well dressed woman with a folder making a tour of the site. She turned out to be the major of the town, with duties including checking on the campsite. She wasn't surprised by our problem and commented that the technology wasn't exactly cutting edge. After disappearing off to phone the operating company she returned our cards with the reassurance that all would now work. We shall see. As my French counterpart noted " everything is being done by machines these days, but they don't do a very good job of it".
Had a friendly chat with an English couple in a motor home who are en route to the Périgord / Dordogne (like me). They are dawdling as the weather is apparently currently much better up here...
Rolling countryside up to Vasseroux. This afternoon felt very familiar : small irregular fields lined with oaks and messy hedgerows, unusually (for France) broken or bumpy surfaces. This could have been south west England much of the time .
On the approach to Lusignan there were many fields growing a different crop. What is it? Haricot?
Everything very sleepy and slow this morning, after the long weekend, or that's how it feels to me. I didn't find an open boulangerie until Parthenay at 11.
Really quiet route this morning, some excellent byways and tracks restricted to residents and cyclists.
At pretty Saint-Loup-sur-Thouet spotted this rose. Not much scent but what colours!
À couple of other sights
Parthenay itself is well known for a big weekly cattle market (not today) and is an attractive ancient town with a medieval centre.
Unfortunately there's a depressed air, with 2/3rds of the premises vacant. However there's quite a bit of building/refurbishment going on, so perhaps there's a regeneration programme under way?
At the Moncontour lake or "base nautique" there were a couple of events taking place on this Sunday ending a long festive weekend which for many people started on Thursday with the holiday for the Feast of the Ascension.
At the edge of the compound continued the festival of cross-country equestrianism. Horses of all shapes and sizes, some pulling carts or carriages or buggies set off into the countryside and then returned for a slap up lunch. Tonight only a few remain. When I commented on the large amount of barbecue equipment on the site I was told that - - no - - they would not be cooking horsemeat; some of the members object. I expect some of the horses might also.
The other event was a "fete d'écotourisme", a small market of local products. It's the first year in which they've done it and clearly it's hard to get the word and momentum out there to begin with. I had no sense of it at all but perhaps the unprecedented French win in the Champions' League had something to do with it?
The manager of the lakeside bar/restaurant had tipped me off that there would be a typical local snack on offer: fouée, which is like a pitta made from pizza flour, cooked in a wood-fired stove.
As I tucked into my second fouée filled with blood sausage I did feel a bit like the villainous farmer in The Fantastic Mr Fox, the one who eats only doughnuts filled with foie gras.
The restaurant was closed this evening. Getting a meal on a Sunday night is probably as hard in France as in the UK. As there were no remotely local options I put together a meal centered around d a packet of pork scratchings from the bottom of my saddlebag. Must remember to replace the emergency rations tomorrow.
A lot of noise in the night from waterfowl on the Loire, quite spectacular clucking and quacking. Apart from that the busy campsite was quiet. I'm struck by how respectful people are in campsites, despite the festive atmosphere. I guess it's mainly families or older people here, certainly no drunken oafs in evidence, they must holiday elsewhere.
It rained about 5am, but not prolonged.
A few hills to get to the stage's starting point at Fontevraud-l'Abbaye, a smart little town. The Mairie has a sign that boasts that its water supply is everlasting. True so far but will that continue, with the increasing demands of tourism, housing and agriculture?
Not wanting to disturb people as all was quiet when I got up, I waited till I found a picnic bench at Couziers before making tea.
It's not always thst obvious when to use the familiar pronoun "tu" rather than the formsl "vous". (We stopped using our equivalent "thy" a long time ago). I was a bit surprised that these instructions in a code of conduct for walkers used the familiar form. Maybe in a situation like this it's more effective to emphasise that we are all equally responsible for looking after our environment, which we hold in common, in theory. Perhaps this works better than formal directives issued from on high?
I struck up conversation with a retired cereal farmer who lived next to the ancient church. He told me that last night's campsite, the Belle Rive' was 2m under water last year in the spring. He was aghast that I wasn't spending more time in the Loire, but I explained that I'd need 3 years rather than 3 weeks to get round all the attractions. My tea was getting cold by this point. Luckily a mention of Brexit had him rolling his eyes and excusing himself: "things to do".
At Loudun I picked up another one of these buttery puff pastries with an apple filling and followed signs to the "velodrome", found up at the top of the town by the castle.
The vines gave way to wheat today. I prefer the vineyard landscape with the gnarled vines. This new landscape is less lyrical, more industrial: big fields and enormous reels of outsize hose for watering.
A hot dull slog south through to Moncontour. Enough. A sign advertising a campsite at a water park was too good to pass up, so decided to call it a day a lunchtime at the 50 km mark. Really nothing left in the tank. I think I'll take a rest day tomorrow.
Sitting by the lake watching the water skiers is very peaceful as they don't use speedboats - - instead they have a system of of overhead wire which drag the skiers along, on motorised pulleys I guess? But it's not a lame system. They have a couple of jumps and the skiers can do turns in the air etc.
Made in the Cotswolds. Published by Éditions Système D Ltd.
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