Tour d'Evans: days 10 & 11

Back to Bretagne

I have been remiss in updating the blog. Day 10 saw us leave our gite and cycle to Bordeaux where we had an extensive lunch at cafe Tupina once more, before boarding the train for the 6 h journey to Vannes - arrived at 9 pm to the typical Breton weather of . . . rain. Checked into the Formule 1, washed gear and changed to go and eat in the restaurant next door . . . 'ferme à 21.30' . . . so we repaired back to the room for our remaining banana and vending machine coffee, and watched Jessica Ennis win the gold.

The day dawned to more Breton weather, i.e. heaving it down. We sought our a patisserie (this being sunday) for breakfast cake to fortify us for the 50 lumpy miles to Lescouet-Gouarec. Now, I've said this before, S doesn't like lumpy and so it transpired once more, the only thing which got her the final miles being a giant bignet which I had foraged for lunch in Locminé but now donated to the cause - if Napoleon had access to such bignets on his campaign.in Russia he surely would not have failed because, apart from being highly nutritious they can provide shelter from the elements or in a pinch dehydrated to make sturdy buttons. So we arrived to the deluxe chambre d'hôte of Peter and Keith where we reside for 2 days to allow S to recuperate.

Tour d'Evans: day 9

Domaine Martet

On this holiday I have been reading 'How I won the yellow jumper' by Ned Boulting, one of the ITV4 correspondents for Le Tour. Amongst various other motifs of his 3 week annual bike-fest is the car journeys that he and the production team take through the various parts of France while following the race. Unfailingly, they set off in the Peugot rental and, upon reaching any part with remotely good weather/food/wine/historical interest (which is pretty much, seemingly, the whole of France) they exclaim: 'lucky bastards!'

So it always seems when on vacation in another part of the world, but I'm sure it's just as good in 'ole blighty' when the sun shines . . . errm, so not this year then.

Anyway, we off back to Bordeaux tomorrow for the return train leg to Vannes and a cycle through the the 'partly showers' of Bretagne. We will be quite sad to leave Domaine Martet: Monsieur Martet gave us a bottle of their own wine, produced on the premises from their vineyard, last night; sadly though they have stopped producing it, and it was a bottle from their last harvest in 2009 - what can you say to a lifetime in a bottle, but thank you so much!

Bon Soir

Tour d'Evans: day 8

Le Pump

Today we did a big circuit of the South, down to Bazas to see the cathedral. While there H was fascinated by the interesting water pump you can see in the picture, where you had to rotate the handle to make the water flow. It was only afterwards that we noticed the penalty for unauthorised use was emblazoned on the coat of arms (scrutinize close up). Nevertheless, we survived and carried on for a 90 km circuit, knowing that tonight was the night when we were to enjoy the sirloin steak and bottle of posh wine bought as per earlier post. Returning completely knackered S repaired to the pool while I, man the hunter, prepared the bbq. To cut a long story short, the courgettes were perfect, the baked potato was great, the salad and wine were exceptional, but

S: 'my steak tastes of meths'

wasn't a comment liklely to garner me a Michelin star. Well, I scoffed mine and my friend scoffed most of S's so at least two out of three of us were happy with the nosh.

Bon Soir

Tour d'Evans

La Tupina

So to Bordeaux. S was determined to have lunch at La Tupina, a fantastically good restaurant recommended by a friend at work. This involved a fair old trudge across the R. Garonne to la gare in Cerons so we set off at the crack of, togged in our 'going out' south of France style linen ensembles. Being super efficient I google mapped the route which said '59 min' to walk; no problem, allowed 1h 45 min, memorised the route and off we went . . . cut to edge of ring-road by the river . . .

H: 'this road is new, we seem to be going in a large circle'

S: 'yes, so it seems . . .'

H: 'let's try this track between the river and the corn field, I'm sure it will take us in the right direction . . .'

Well, you get the idea. We passed the fella in the picture twice, separated by 30 mins of sweaty slogging, and got to the station with 1 min to spare, so all was well, and we arrived in Bordeaux sweating like Billy Bunter doing the ten tors, and made straight for the café.

So, now to recce la restaurant. Google maps informed me it was not too far away, and indeed we fetched up at Tupina which looked, seemed, was in fact, a bog standard caf' . . .

S: are you sure this is the right street?

H: yes, positive

S: are you absolutely sure?

H: yes; look, I'll try my other gps . . .yes, all it checks out fine.

Both: stuff that, let's find somewhere else.

Cut to 2 h later of trudging round Bordeaux and getting close to lunch. . .

Both: actually, that La Tupina doesn't look too bad now . . . let's go back there for lunch

Cut to the approach from the other end of the street . . .

H: hey, isn't that posh looking place with the tablecloths, maitre de and braying hedge fund owning customer also called La Tupina?

S: so it is, lets look at the menu

. . . silence while we peruse the menu, never getting further than the €25 starters . . .

Both: ok, the other place it is then

So we had an excellent four course lunch at CAFE Tupina for €14 per head!

Bon Soir