Vaucluse Dreamer

Despite all the storm warnings yesterday, the weather Gods were with us and we ended up spending the evening, eating supper and drinking a glass or two of wine by the river in Coutras, almost looking for some shade as it was so sunny. We clinked our glasses to celebrate the fact that we had ridden over 500 miles, since leaving East Budleigh, which still seems almost impossible.

Looking at the map this morning, we marked out a route to start taking us east and a bit further south towards the Mediterranean coast, still with one eye on the weather forecast that is still predicting rain. We drew a route that would take us down past Saint Emilion, across The Dordogne and on into the Lot et Garonne, on the way down towards Agen (home of my favourite prunes)

The clouds had cleared and it was a beautiful start to the day, with blue skies, but still a weird easterly wind, that seems determined to be in our faces, all the way to Provence. So we cycled out of Coutras towards Saint Emilion and Lussac, home of some wonderful wines and almost immediately found ourselves pedalling through regimented rows of vines; vivid stripes of green in every possible direction, disappearing into the distance.

We pottered past beautiful Chateaux, and big Domaines, all producing their own fine wines in this stunning corner of France. The villages were incredibly pretty, with huge gateways and entrances paying tribute to the importance and age of the properties hidden behind them.

The roads were peaceful and silky smooth, and rolling through the countryside, the kilometres slipped easily past, until almost by surprise we reached a small town, where we found ourselves crossing The Dordogne, something we hadn’t expected at all, which was a little silly as we had written the route a matter of a couple of hours before

After crossing, the landscape changed and we left many of the vineyards behind, finding ourselves rolling along the valley floor, before pedalling up more hills, through green fields filling with maize and acres of golden crops too

The architecture had changed with the river crossing, and we started to see more traditional Perigord style buildings with their beautiful tall rooflines and stunning stonework. By this time, our stomachs were starting to yell at us, as we had left the hotel before breakfast, so we started looking for a Boulangerie or café, where we could stop. But somehow, we had hit upon a few Boulangerie-free villages, and we started to wonder if there was an ‘ou est la Boulangerie?’ app … If there isn’t, there should be!

Eventually though, just as we were beginning to give up hope, we spotted a colourful sign on the side of a building, advertising a cafe, so we stopped and finally got something for breakfast. It was still early, but all the croissants & pain au chocolats had gone, so we bought a brioche and ate it, with the strawberry jam Andy had managed to save from a petit-déjeuner, in a café earlier in the week. The whole lot went, without even touching the sides!

Our stomachs quieter now, we continued on, finding ourselves on beautiful rolling roads, that seemed to go up, a lot more than they went down. At one point, on a particularly long hill, we managed to sit behind a dumper truck that was going at a perfect pace, pulling us up with him.

The only annoyance was the lorry behind us, which kept pipping its horn, seemingly indicating to the dumper truck to pull over to let it pass. At times, it even started to overtake, coming alongside us, so that we could hear the driver shouting, only for it to have to drop behind us again. Near the top of the hill, it finally managed to get past, only to pull into a layby a few hundred metres ahead, where we saw the driver get down from the cab.

We thought he was going to take the dumper driver to task, but no, he just smiled and waved at him and then started waving at us, holding something blue in his outstretched hand. The something blue was Andy’s rain jacket, which had fallen off some way behind, and the lorry driver had stopped, picked it up and caught up with us to hand it back.

So much for us thinking that he was getting frustrated with the dumper driver, he was simply trying to let us know he had it. We felt so stupid, but he just smiled, waved, hopped back in his cab and kept going, whilst we added extra security to the coat, on the back carrier. Such a random act of kindness and hopefully if we get rain, at least Andy will stay dry.

Coat secured, we carried on, eventually stopping in the beautiful little village of Allemans-du-Dropt, where we had a nice drink with someone who has been following our journey, catching up and making friends with him and his gorgeous dogs,

before we moved on again, stopping to do our Daily Update in the shade of a scented Linden tree, that was alive with bees.

We’ve managed to choose some great roads to cycle along, but this one was busier than others, so we turned off and found ourselves on a stunning route, running between huge plum orchards (for those prunes), with little hilltop villages sitting high above us, eventually pottering into a pretty bastide village of Monclar, where we glugged ‘full-fat’ coke, to keep our legs turning to our stop for the night, in a Chateau Chambres D’Hote about an hour above Agen.

It’s a good job we did, as the ride up was energy sapping, especially at the end of 121km of hilly roads, See today’s route here but it was worth the effort, as it’s a beautiful little place, and certainly the most characterful B&B we’ve stayed in so far.

So this evening, we’re sitting on the wall of the church above the garden, eating supper and watching the sun set behind us.

Another great day, and hopefully down to the Canal du Midi tomorrow, for a ride towards Toulouse.

Where are the days going?