France
I had about half a lie in today. I got up half way between the time the alarm went off and the time I got up yesterday. When I went out to get the breakfast it was damp and misty and I couldn't see the sea at all. We had a slow breakfast with 2 mugs of tea, and read for a bit but it still didn't look much better outside, so we decided to go out anyway.
By the time we were cycling out of the campsite the mist had retreated and we'd pretty much forgotten it had ever been there at all. The route out of Le Fret started with a hill, and consequently a lot of complaining from Claire. Claire is at a disadvantage because I ride my bike to work every day and she rides hers about twice a year. This means that her legs aren't used to it and she hasn't had the chance to get used to her bike and get it set up and working just right. I spent half a day the week before the holiday replacing my chain and gear cable, and generally giving my bike some TLC, so mine was working perfectly.
Our (well, my) intention was to cycle to Pointe des Espagnols which is at one end of the Crozon peninsula, for no other reason than it looked like it might be interesting on the map, and it was far enough away to be a proper bike ride but not too far to be impossible or cause too much pain. I did start to wonder whether I needed to reconsider my definition of impossible after all the complaining on the first hill, but before I knew it we were there, with only a small amount of complaining. It was still misty out to sea so the views weren't great but we spent a while there having a bit of a rest.
There were two army Land Rovers there and about 6 soldiers who seemed to be on the lookout for something. One was busy texting/playing Candy Crush on his phone in the Landrover and the others were standing on a little wall looking out to sea through binoculars. All of a sudden, the one in the Landrover got out and sauntered over to the others, and I noticed he was the only one who hadn't got a handgun on his belt. When I pointed this out to Claire, she said "he doesn't need one, he's got a big gun in the Landrover". This being the same Landrover that had the door open about 2 metres away from me and about 20 metres from the now gun-less soldier. I received another elbow in the ribs for commenting on that, and Claire decided it was time for us to head back. We took a quick selfie before we left, which seemed to attract the attention of some of the soldiers (I think they thought we were photographing the unattended gun), so we pedalled off quickly back the way we came before we got in trouble.
There was more complaining from Claire on the way back, about hills and gears and pedals and suchlike. We swapped bikes so I could see if the problem was mechanical or leg related (it was mainly leg related), which had the added benefit of making Claire finally accept that her saddle was far too low. She took rather a fancy to my bike but I have managed to get it back now.
We weren't hungry until we'd cycled all the way back to Le Fret, which was a good job really as we didn't see anywhere to eat on the way back. We cycled around town and found a little creperie down a dodgy looking side street which led to a nice beach. We ate there, and sampled a whole host of Bretagne specialities. We started off with Gallettes, which are a kind of savoury pancake filled with nice things like cheese, spicy sausage and mushrooms (they may sound like Staffordshire oatcakes but they're not). That was washed down with local Cidre, which was fizzy and came in a champagne bottle (but not champagne prices fortunately). Then we had sweet crepes for pudding and coffee to finish up.
The whole meal was lovely, and the waiter/owner spoke English, and seemed keen to talk to us in English. In fact, his English was so good that at first I took him to be a Cockney. Then during the course of our meal we convinced ourselves he was Dutch because he hadn't quite got an English accent. We asked him before we left and it turned out that he was born in South London but spent most of his childhood in France. So he was a sort of Cockney after all. We were disappointed to find that he was closing the creperie for the season today and heading over to the UK to visit family, so we wouldn't be able to return for another feast tomorrow.
After our lunch we went back to George. Claire read for a bit and had a nap whilst I spent an hour tinkering with her bike and then reading my book. She has had a ride of it round the campsite and seems happy enough so we will see how it is on our next proper bike ride.
Our evening consisted of a mountain of the usual bread, cheeses, cold meat and wine. Then I fell out of a tree trying to find a suitable branch for Claire to hang off to stretch her back. Neither of us are feeling any better for it. It's gone quite chilly now and we've retreated to George, and Claire is using her new fleece blanket.
Those of you that have been following my blogs will of course be awaiting an update on my mosquito bites. I am pleased to report that they feel a lot better today, causing only a small amount of itchiness, hence their late appearance in today's blog. They still look awful, and are starting to take on the appearance of bruises. I expect there will still be remnants of them there when I get home in a weeks time.
Tomorrow we're planning another bike ride although I'm not really sure where to yet.
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