2013 Tour - Jour 18

Retour á Bretagne

After a pleasant stay in sunny southern France, today we return to Brittany; who knows what the weather will hold for us there? Our return strategy consists of the TGV from Angouléme to Bordeaux, then Intercities train from Bordeaux to Lorient. The first leg is straightforward because bike reservations are compulsory on TGV trains, so you have a guaranteed place. On the Intercities there are bike spaces on a first come first served basis, so an unholy scrum will not doubt ensue and I will have to send S into battle with her foot in the door - we shall see.

Carnage of les velos

As suspected, the situation at Bordeaux was less smooth. We arrived and disembarked smoothly enough, then made our way to La Tupina for le dejeuner - OK, I lied, went to Café Tupina, the downmarket version around the corner, once again, not wanting to mark the polished teak floor with our cleats.

A sumptuous four-course lunch was had, the last course being a large portion of something similar to Breton Far flan. Those of you in the know will immediately recognise that we now no longer have to eat for a week because the aforementioned flan is a superheavy element which, when purchased at a patisserie in Brittany, is provided in a lead-lined box. So, having lingered slightly too long in an effort to digest the meal, and imbibed slightly too much, we hastily pushed our bikes back to la gare. Sure enough: the platform had steps up to it (first challenge); there were more people with bikes than bike spaces on the train (second challenge), but I adopted my usual ploy of stuffing them on to the first available carriage without regard to seating reservations; confusion about which carriage the seat reservations were in - probably my fault but this led right in to the third challenge . . .

H: (pushing trolley laden with panniers and camping equipment) excusez-moi (addressing SNCF official and pointing to reservation) quelle voiture est ce

Msr SNCF: (pointing to my luggage) a stream of French which I had no hope of understanding

H: Je ne comprends pas

Msr SNCF: (pointing at luggage) ditto

H: Je ne comprends pas

Msr SNCF: ditto

H: (realising it must be some problem to do with the amount/location of our clobber) Je ne comprends pas

Msr SNCF: ditto

H: (louder) Je ne comprends pas

Throughout this conversation, all around us folks are busily loading bikes, enormous rucksacks, IKEA flatpack furniture, portable nuclear reactors, etc. onto the train like a scene out of Ghandi . . .

Eventually SNCF gives up in frustration and I direct S to chuck the stuff on the train tout suite before he comes back. This done I then evict two nice young ladies from our seats based on my firm belief in gender equality and the prospect of a 6 hour train journey. Shortly thereafter, I see SNCF moving down the carriage in our direction, so I fain sleep. But I needn't have worried because his official ire has been redirected to the 27 bikes squashed into a place for 2 at the end of the carriage. At the next station there is a delay while some disembarkation (forced or otherwise I will never know) takes place; during this whole episode I fain sleep (S has already managed to fall into a deep slumber moments after sitting down).

The merits of the Dessert at lunch soon become apparent because the train does not have a buffet car - people are starving, small children are crying and having their sweets stolen, but we have our bidons and some choccy bicuits in the back pocket. Eventually we arrive at Lorient at 9.30 pm and are currently ensconced in the Ibis Gare which seems like a 5-star hotel, except that our clothes are soaking in the sink.

Bon soir

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