Typical! Today the forecast was for sunshine so I woke up to drizzle. Warm drizzle though. Left Rochefort by the ‘pont transbordeur’ a rather idiosyncratic piece of 19th century engineering.I had a choice of routes from Rochefort – back to the west along the Charente then south to Moeze and Brouage or through Echillais to the canal. I took advice from the hotel owner ( a keen cyclist) and headed off through Echillais. Bad decision! Getting to Echillais was OK but finding the canal proved a challenge. It must have taken me 40 minutes to cover what should have been 2km to the canal and when I got there the ‘piste cyclable’ on my side of the canal was a soggy grassy path; great for walkers but incredibly difficult for cyclists. And of course on the other bank was a perfectly level beaten earth track. After about 3km of bone-juddering effort I came to a bridge and gratefull
y crossed over – whereupon the other path immediately became a grassy obstacle course and on my original side of the canal the path transformed into an immaculate tarmac cycle path. I wearily retraced my steps and crossed back, only to find – yes you guessed it- that the tarmac path ran out after 200m or so and the other side once again offered an immaculate cycling surface. Damning all French mapmakers to hell I crossed back (again) and decided that since I still had about 50km to go before I reached my hotel and it was already approaching lunchtime I would cancel the detour to Brouage. Shame – it’s supposed to be very pretty but I was beginning to think I might not see my bed till midnight. In fact I was beginning to wonder if my target of 60km a day might not have been completely unrealistic.From here on things got better. I carried on along the Canal de Seudre and intrepidly navigated myself through Marennes. The terrain around here is flat and desolate, cut with canals which make it difficult to go in straight line from A to B. It must be a great place for birdwatchers though. Then over the bridge (MUCH harder work than the bridge from the Ile de Re) towards Ronce les Bains. Great surface (I’m becoming a connoisseur of road surfaces) and ran through the forest within sound of the sea. I didn’t actually see the sea though, as to do so meant either lugging the bike 200 yards over a sand dune or leaving it and all my worldly goods unaccompanied. I had chosen to take the longer route on the cycle path rather than cut directly across the peninsula where I would have to negotiate traffic. All went swimmingly till about 2pm when I ran into a barrier across the path and a notice announcing that it was closed for widening. This left me with the option of a rather busy D road or ignoring the notice. Having been in France all of 3 days by now I was in the mood to ignore any rule which seemed inconvenient so I decided to press on and ta
ke my chance. I had enjoyed about 6 km of idyllic cyclepath when I spotted, in the distance, a total roadblock of bulldozers, lorries, diggers, tarmac layers etc etc. But – off to the right of the road was a forest path which appeared to run parallel to the piste and offered an alternative. Unfortunately after about 15 minutes the path started to head away from the bike path. Lorries were still charging up and down, so no possibility of rejoining the main path and I had no wish to retrace my steps. My trusty compass told me I was heading south and the sea was still on my right; it looked as though the path was a short cut to the lower part of the piste so I ploughed on. And voila, there it was exactly where I had calculated. I was quite proud of myself though rather hot and sweaty.La Palmyre (when I got there) was a strange place. Very quiet, very clean, lots of tree-lined avenues. I wonder what it’s like in summer? I bet the cycle paths are thronged with nose-down, bum-up, lycra-clad cyclists. I suppose I was seeing it out of season but it seemed to be populated entirely by coach parties and retired people. A coach party of Belgians arrived while I was sat on the hotel terrace and for some reason they ALL stared at me as they walked in. I was tempted to rush in and check my ‘look’ in the mirror – but I know what it will be - ‘windswept and sunburnt’. The hotel (Le Palmyr’Hotel) was very much a coach tour hotel - but OK.
130km so far
