2013 Tour - Jour 4

To update you on yesterday evening, we arrived at Quimper in time for the Breton cultural festival which entailed lots of wearing of traditional costume, playing of bagpipes, dancing in a big tent & etc. We watched the parade, albeit with a restricted view, and consumed the first moules et frites of the tour.

Shark attack

We had an early start in the morning, the 6.20 train to Saintes, so turned in accordingly. Having done this last year I was confident of a seamless transition onto the train at Quimper and thence an un-interrupted journey along the coast down south when I could catch up on some sleep . . . already, you know that it wasn't the case. We got to the station sans problem but, of course, the train was on a distant platform and, this being France, there is no SENDA compliance . . . but there is a narrow steel ramp down one side of the steps to the underpass . . . So, to save me the bother of removing panniers I elect to manoeuvre my laden bike down it with judicious use of braking to retard its progress, not factoring in the much increased weight compared to previous trips and complete lack of friction between tyres and ramp which straightaway took on the function of a bobsleigh run and me resembling the last poor idiot who waits too long to get in the back. Anyway, to cut a painful story short, after some unseemly wrestling, rear wheel detaching from dropouts, near total disaster, and unexpected shark attack I decided to take off the panniers and carry the bike . . .

S: 'are you alright?'

H: 'no' . . . then silence, always a bad sign

S: 'are you hurt?'

H: 'yes' . . . then silence, not even swearing, a very bad sign. S knows to keep quiet at this point.

. . . the nice lady on the train gave me an antiseptic wipe with which I set about scrubbing out the chain oil and grit so I wouldn't be left with a permanent tattoo, and patched it up with some plasters which have been languishing in my first aid kit for decades. So, as long as gangrene doesn't set in I will be fine.

The next hurdle was the unexpected change of train at Nantes. I had specifically booked the 6.30 am (very bloody early) because it is straight through to Bordeaux and we wouldn't have to change . . . NOT SO, the nice train lady informed me, 'vous devez changer a Nantes'. So change we did, but at least it was on the same platform, so no chance of another shark attack!

The rest of the journey was uneventful, and we alighted at Saintes where we partook of le dejeuner on the bank of the Charentes. Onward then through the heart of Cognac country - Remy, Camus, etc.- to Cognac itself, where we now reside at the Manicipaux Camping Cognac on the banks of the Charentes, partaking of the inevitable vin rouge apres le diner.

 

 

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