Harriet Springbett's Blog, page 2

Flow Vélo 10 : Bridges over Troubled Waters

La Flow Vélo from Rochefort to Fouras

The only parts of the Flow Vélo we hadn’t yet explored were the River Charente’s old-age meanders before it meets the sea at Fouras-les-Bains. This 60-km section, from Geay to Fouras, was too long for a one-day return trip (see how reasonable I am this year?), so we decided to treat ourselves to a camping weekend in Rochefort – centrally placed between Fouras and Geay – and cycle in the two different directions over two days.

‘It’ll be a nightmare if it’s windy,’ said my husband – wisely, I must admit with hindsight: be warned, if you’re considering this stretch. So we waited for a weekend of good weather.

And waited some more.

Eventually, I realised the tourist season would soon be upon us, giving my husband more excuses not to do the last section, which didn’t inspire him. I checked the forecast for the short weekend in May and declared it perfect.

I wasn’t being totally honest. I didn’t tell him that storms and gale-force winds were actually forecast. But the worst was supposed to be for Friday and Sunday evenings. We’d be either tucked up in our tent or driving home. And what was a little wind to seasoned cyclists like us?

We arrived in Rochefort on Friday evening to the sound of rumbling thunder and pitched our tent on Le Rayonnement campsite. It was pretty close to perfection: quiet and dark with hot showers, lockers for charging phones, petanque courts, compost bins, a communal room with fridge, freezer, microwave, oven and a table football – and only 500m from the town centre. Also, it was only 12€ per night for a couple with a tent.

Despite its excess of mobile homes, Le Rayonnement epitomises an ecological, community camping mentality.

The only down side is the lack of room for tents, so prior reservation is essential.

The thunder turned into rain just as we were about to walk into Rochefort centre for dinner. Sheltering under the umbrella I’d innocently slipped into the car ‘just in case,’ we set off to discover Rochefort.

This town – famous as the setting of the French film Les Demoiselles de Rochefort and for its reconstruction of the tall ship Hermione – is a great place to visit. The streets, organised in blocks, are one-way for cars but two-way for cyclists and are full of beautiful stone buildings.

A countryside cycleway, Le Chemin de Charente, also circles the town, following the river’s meanders. There are so many things to visit here, including the Royal ropeworks, the transporter bridge and its free museum, the Accro-mât mast-climbing activity, the amazing house of author Pierre Loti and several maritime museums (be careful, some attractions are temporarily closed).

We visited none of these places, however (I’d already seen most of them years ago on a press trip). Instead, we chanced upon a restaurant which I’d highly recommend: La Route des Epices. The new owners offer a mouth-watering choice and we feasted on lightly spiced dishes while the rain fell…

… And continued to fall – all night, to my husband’s (but not my) surprise.

Luckily, the gaffer tape over the holes in our tent kept us dry, and Saturday morning dawned bright and calm (phew!). I soon understood why the wind speed concerned my husband: the land is flat with few trees. And we were cycling westward, into the wind.

The positive side was the wonderful view over salt marshes as we cycled past water channels, groves of bulrushes, banks of yellow irises and stretches of rapeseed. Its beauty – so different to the other parts of the Flow Vélo route – surprised us.

Accompanied by frog singing and birdsong, we passed the famous Pont Transbordeur, promising ourselves we’d use it the next day, and, 5km further on, the tiny ferry to the village of Soubise. An ‘Appel Bateau’ (Call Boat) button can be used if you want to cross the river here. We met a cyclist who recommends a circuit using the transporter bridge to cross the river on the way out and the ferry on the way back.

But we continued. We were on the way to the seaside, where we’d sit on the sand in the sun and eat ice-creams.

Just past the transporter bridge, a huge viaduct stretches across the river, replacing the former vertical lift bridge. For a few months, 3 bridges were in use here. The sight of all of them in one place, as well as the little wooden bridges across the irrigation channels, had me humming the Simon & Garfunkel tune as I cycled.

We’d dreaded the part where the Flow Vélo runs alongside the dual carriageway towards La Rochelle. But in fact we were always on cycle paths or on little lanes, making this section more pleasant than it appears on the map. The scent of acacia flower, our glimpses of egrets and herons, and several clumps of pink pyramid orchids on the verges made up for the roar of passing cars for the 3km stretch of dual carriageway.

After a lunch and a siesta at St. Laurent-de-la-Prée – which has a good patissier-chocolatier (but no ice-creams) – we continued along a quiet road to Fouras-les-Bains.

Again, I liked this little seaside town far more than I imagined I would. I’m sure it helps when your first sight of a place comes from a cycleway rather than after queuing in traffic. In this case, we arrived immediately at a small beach with a view over Fouras and Aix island.

We stopped in the centre of Fouras and walked around Fort Vauban, one of the many fortresses designed by the Marquis de Vauban along this stretch of the coast. From there, we had a view of Île Madame, Fort Boyard, Fort Enet and Oleron Island too.

I was determined to pedal right to the end of the Flow Vélo, hoping to find a signpost congratulating me on reaching the end of the route. So we cycled onwards, through a pretty urban wood, past oyster yards and rough ground until we reached the Pointe de la Fumée, 34km from our starting point in Rochefort. This part wasn’t as picturesque as the rest – and there wasn’t even a sign to mark the beginning/end of the Flow Vélo.

As the skies were ominously black, we decided not to catch a boat to Aix. We even put aside our plans to sunbathe on the sand. I felt guilty when my husband – who’d put on shorts in expectation of sunshine – said he’d rather have hot tea than an ice-cream. I should have been honest about the weather forecast – though would he have come if he’d known?

Warmed by a brew on the seafront, we began the return journey under spits and spats of rain – and a rising wind. I looked nervously at my husband.

He wasn’t complaining. Why not?

Because the wind was actually in our backs now, speeding us along our homeward path. The sun even came out after a while.

The wind sped us along so quickly that we seemed to arrive on the outskirts of Rochefort in no time. Actually, just in time to stop for an aperitif at the V&B beer cellar / bar conveniently situated right next to the Flow Vélo. How could we resist? When we came outside after a Super 8 Blanche beer (or two), the sky was blue and the wind had dropped.

We ambled back to our campsite, stopping briefly at a birdwatching shelter in the 70-hectare Station de Lagunage (waste water recycling lakes) to watch the birds in the evening sun.

After a hot shower, we walked into Rochefort for dinner. Without our umbrella.

Guess who got soaked to the skin?

***

Come back next week to read about our second day of cycling – eastwards from Rochefort to Geay – which was marked by a little adultery… oops!

Flow Vélo 9 : Going Solo

La Flow Vélo from Nontron to St Pardoux La Rivière

Rain pelted against my car windscreen. It was 8°C outside, mist hung low over the hilltop town of Nontron and I wondered what I was doing here, alone, when I could have been curled up with a book in front of my fireplace.

The trouble was that I’d told people I was doing this short section of the Flow Vélo today. It was the missing piece in a jigsaw that was almost complete. I’d never hear the end of it if I just drove home.

I was in the Dordogne for a Saturday writing workshop and had tried to persuade my husband to come for the weekend so we could cycle together afterwards. But exciting things were happening at home. The male solitary bees woke up last week and were buzzing in a frenzy around the bamboo hotel my husband made them, waiting for the females. The first ones had just hatched. It was impossible for him to be absent right now.

The rain stopped. I found a car park, remembering from our last visit that Nontron is a town of steep hills and viaducts, with a lower part and an upper part.

I was in the upper part, where the Flow Vélo arrives from the west. Making up my mind to cycle, even if it was just for a spin around the town, I heaved my bike out of the car.

I’d spent the previous night in a friendly Airbnb near Excideuil and, prior to the writing workshop, had discovered the pretty town with its eye-catching castle (and lack of open restaurants).

I always pop into tourist offices, and Excideuil was no exception. That’s when I learnt the news. About the Flow Vélo.

The 290km cycleway is being extended in the Dordogne. In May, another 60km will be added, passing through Excideuil on the journey from Thiviers to Le-Lardin-St-Nazare. And after that, right down to Sarlat. In fact, there have been lots of developments to the route since last summer, as you can see in the 2023 Press Release. Typically, just as I’m nearing completion of it, I’ll have to start all over again!

I cycled around Nontron, searching for the Flow Vélo signposts. Knowing that I’d be coming back for the extension added to my lack of motivation. But – hang on – was that a glimpse of blue sky? The prospect of a little sun changed everything. After 2km of ups and downs, I found the exit from Nontron via the lower town.

The missing section in my Flow Vélo adventure was a mere 17km stretch of road, which meant a 34km return journey. I’d learnt from my mistakes about being over-ambitious last year: today’s objective was manageable. With a bit of luck I could have a coffee or even my picnic in St Pardoux before heading back.

Cowslips and banks of white blackthorn blossom restored my good mood as I pedalled up the long, gentle hill out of Nontron. I even heard my first cuckoo of the year.

My frozen fingers were soon warm and, although I was on the D707 main road, there were some interesting sights to stop and look at. Yes, that’s someone’s letterbox.

Just after, the route followed a much smaller lane, more characteristic of the Flow Vélo.

The lane cut through deforested woodland, saddening me, but there were sections of woods too, complete with woodpeckers, a couple of noisy jays and carpets of violets. There was also a pleasant silence – nothing to do with the absence of my husband.

I almost enjoyed the kilometres of descent, passing hamlets, noting the growing patches of blue in the sky and saying hello to the few people I passed. The only problem was knowing that, in a few hours, I’d be toiling up the same hill.

I was surprised to arrive at St Pardoux an hour and a quarter later with just 13km on my counter. I checked my guide. Silly me. The 17km were for the whole stage, which ends in Milhac-de-Nontron, a further 5km on.

Should I continue? Could I make it to the beautiful village of St.Jean-de-Côle for lunch?

No. I’m being reasonable this year.

Instead, I cycled around the village of St Pardoux, remembering our last trip here in 2020, when I first discovered the Flow Vélo. It’s a perfect place to camp for a few days. I tried to find a bottle of Two Bears’ beer (Les 2 Ours) to take home for my husband but Sundays aren’t the best days from a shopping point of view.

After a break, I climbed back onto my saddle and left for Nontron.

It’s actually fascinating coming back the same way, as you don’t see the same things. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself as I passed this signpost that reminded me what lay ahead (translation: Hilly Road).

Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I feared. The steep parts of the 3km-climb (yes, I measured it) were balanced by flat parts.

At 1pm I arrived in Nontron, my legs nevertheless aching: it was only my second outing of the season.

At first I cursed myself for parking at the top of town. But the route leading through Nontron took me up a pretty street, making up for my aches.

Arriving at the car, with 28km on my counter, I decided to treat myself to a meal at Le Bacchus brasserie. And there I learnt that Les 2 Ours beer was no longer made in Nontron. The brewers have moved to St-Médard-de-Mussidan.

I wonder if it’s on the new Flow Vélo route? If so, I’m sure my husband will be by my side for that stretch. My fingers are crossed.

Come Geeking

I wouldn’t say I was a geek. But when I heard about an English literary event only a couple of hours from home, I was like a dog when its master holds up its lead and says, ‘Walkies!’

A writing workshop?

At a château?

In the Dordogne?

Wagging my (figurative) tail, I signed up for an afternoon focussing on memoir. And that’s how I found myself, on April Fool’s Day, at the beautiful Saint-Germain-des-Prés château, writing my life story alongside 15 other geeks writers.

The event was a collaboration between Manor & Maker, the business name chosen by château owners Sara and Stephen Cole, and an experienced memoir workshop leader called Catharine.

And the good news is that it’s not a one-off event.

The idea behind the Manor & Maker retreats is to provide a safe space where people can enjoy doing their favourite creative activity with like-minded people. As Stephen says: ‘If you geek out about something, come and geek with us.’

Our hosts welcomed us into their home with tea, coffee and biscuits, giving us the necessary sustenance for two hours of writing under Catharine’s guidance.

The 19th century château is charming, not just from the outside, but also in terms of the interior decoration with its wooden panelling and period furniture.

We were even invited to climb up the inside of the 16th century tower.

The top room was closed, a home for bats while it awaits renovation, but I preferred to imagine a young princess imprisoned inside, poised to let down her hair.

Fifteen of us sat around the dining table for the workshop. It was lovely to see familiar faces but also to meet lots of people with fascinating life stories to write.

Through a series of exercises, debriefs and discussions, Catharine whetted our appetites to continue meeting and sharing work.

After a pause, during which Sara and Stephen treated us to delicious nibbles and wine while we got to know each other, we were regaled with readings from memoir authors.

Susie Kelly read a moving extract from I wish I could say I was Sorry and a light-hearted flying anecdote from It’s a Mad World. Jackie Skingley read from High Heels and Beetle Crushers and gave us a sneak preview of the sequel, Burnt Eggs and Caviar. And Patrick Doherty read from his Irish memoir I am Patrick.

It was a convivial afternoon in a setting that’s perfectly adapted for group events. Sara and Stephen’s attention brought a warmth we wouldn’t have had in a village hall.

Given the excellent attendance at the workshop, Catharine is hoping to make it a monthly event, so if you live near Excideuil and are interested in writing your memoir, contact Manor & Maker.

I caught Sara and Stephen as they mingled, checking that everyone had everything they needed, and asked them a few questions about the inspiration behind their business and their decision to leave Canada and buy a castle in France.

Stephen is a painter and designer, while Sara is a historical clothes maker. Here’s a photo of them, costumed, in Venice (photo courtesy of Stephen Cole).

The couple have many artistic friends and loved the idea of bringing people together so they could comfortably be their best selves with others sharing the same passion.

But why France? Why a château?

‘It’s my parents’ fault,’ says Sara. ‘They were a pilot and flight attendant, which meant we travelled a lot. When I was 15, we stayed in a Loire château and I was impressed when the marquis swept into the castle wearing his cape. That moment stayed with me.’

Although they love Canada, they’d been talking about living in Europe for a decade. ‘In Toronto, it felt as if I was living to work,’ says Stephen. ‘The attitude in Europe is more about working to live. Also, we both love art and history. We wanted to be surrounded by them.’

They almost moved to the UK, but the idea of being able to drive to another country in the space of a few hours tipped them towards mainland Europe. ‘In Canada, you can drive 24 hours and still be in the same province,’ says Stephen.

Having searched the Limousin and Creuse for Sara’s dream castle, they found it in the Dordogne in 2020. ‘As soon as we opened the front door, we fell in love,’ says Stephen. By August 2021 they were living there – though Sara’s marquis hasn’t swept into the château yet.

Perhaps the marquis led to the idea of their inaugural Belle Epoch retreat, to be held in May. This will bring together costumers and artists for a weekend, the idea being that the artists paint costumed models while they stroll around the château grounds. Does this raise geek reactions in you? If so, contact Manor & Maker.

‘When designing clothes, it’s important to have the right garments for the right periods,’ says Stephen. ‘Clothes speak strongly about cultural differences throughout history. They’re a way to time travel.’

Costuming isn’t the only creative activity you’ll find at the château. Forthcoming retreats in 2023 include encaustic painting (painting with beeswax – a technique used by the ancient Egyptians); a Gourmet retreat with a Le Cordon Bleu-trained chef from Paris; a poetry course with talented poet Kate Rose; and an open writing residency, fondly referred to by Sara as ‘Ditch the Distractions’.

If you’re interested in participating in any of these – or if you have ideas for other creative retreats you’d like to see there, Sara and Stephen would be happy to hear from you on their Manor & Maker website or youtube channel, where they vlog regularly about life in their château.

But of course you need to be a geek to participate. And none of us are that, are we?

The Abyss

Since I last blogged about my Flow Vélo cycle trips, I’ve been shouted at, tooted at and nearly run over more times than I care to admit to my children. Such are the dangers of cycling on a daily basis in the small town of Cognac.

Conversations with my husband, on his return from work, begin with phrases like, ‘Nearly had my chips again this evening,’ and ‘that BMW cut me up again on the speed hump’. These are then followed by a good ten minutes of us ranting about the thoughtlessness of certain car drivers.

And yes, I know that some cyclists are thoughtless too. But how many of them kill car drivers? I really believe it’s up to the most dangerous vehicles to look out for the vulnerable – which of course means cyclists should be careful of pedestrians.

When I heard that Cognac has its own charity who work to improve the place of cyclists on the roads, I decided to find out what it was all about. After all, it’s better to rant in a group than alone – and it’s even better to take action than to rant.

The opportunity to meet ‘Vélo d’Vie‘ (loosely translated as Bike for Life), came on a Sunday in February, when they organised a discovery outing to visit an abyss (Le Gouffre) in the nearby village of Gensac. An abyss? How come I’d never heard of this? Teetering on the edge of an abyss with my bike sounded like an exciting way to spend an afternoon, so my husband and I signed up for the 20km ride.

It was 8°C outside and a strong northerly wind was blowing. But the sun was shining and I had 2 pairs of gloves on, not to mention a thermos of tea in my husband’s pannier. I was ready for my first cycling adventure of 2023.

There were only a few people at Place François I, the meeting place in the centre of Cognac, when we arrived at 3pm.

I got chatting and found one of them was a fellow volunteer from Le Texte Libre bookshop, and also a founder member of Vélo d’Vie.

She explained that the charity, launched in 2016, organises activities to promote the use of the bicycle for transport. They go into schools, organise an annual festival, hold bicycle repair sessions and raise awareness with local companies and town councillors. For the price of €10, you can join and participate in all of these – plus monthly, family outings to discover the region.

Within minutes, flocks of cyclists arrived from every direction and converged on the terrace beside the statue of Francis I, the king who was born in Cognac. Thirty-five women, children and men set off on a variety of pushbikes, electric bikes and cargos.

The pace was gentle, the roads were quiet and the route took us across the industrial zone and then out onto tracks through vineyards. It was perfect for chatting to the other cyclists. I even heard English being spoken when we stopped for a break at the 12th century St Martin’s church in Gensac. This was my chance to meet a friendly South African cyclist who has just arrived in the area.

After warming up in the church, we pedalled through the pretty centre of Gensac. Glancing at a street sign, my heart beat faster: ‘Chemin du Gouffre’ (Street of the Abyss). We were almost there. In a few seconds I’d be staring down into a chasm, my hands clutching my bike brakes so I didn’t fall in.

Everyone stopped at the village mill, a pretty place beside a small lake where trout are farmed. A lake with no river running into it.

Oh. Right.

This was the abyss.

In fact it was The Abyss, the name for Gensac’s résurgence, source of the River Ri de Gensac. If I wanted to see the actual 150-metre-deep abyss, I’d have to leave my bike behind and put on diving equipment… An adventure for another day, perhaps?

The second surprise of the outing came during a crêpe stop at L’Yeuse hotel on the way back. This magnificent hotel hugs the steep side of the ridge overlooking the River Charente and is where you’ll find the fascinating Jardins Respectueux, one of my favourite gardens, which I blogged about last year on a Flow Vélo post.

Today was its Open Day, during which the public could visit the bedrooms and see how the guest artists had decorated them. Their brief was to turn each bedroom into an individual work of art. The hotel’s owner had given them a free hand to paint whatever they liked, based on the local environment. The results were amazing – as you can see below (or on the hotel’s website gallery for better photos).

It was 6pm by the time we’d finished visiting. I wanted to see the film ‘Arrête avec tes Mensonges’ (Lie with Me) at the cinema that evening – a film based on a novel by local author Philippe Besson and filmed in Cognac. Philippe Besson had given a talk about his work at Le Texte Libre two days before – but that’s the subject for another blog post. So we took leave of our new cycling friends, promising we’d see them again.

That evening, I paid my subscription fees to Vélo d’Vie. It was comforting to realise that my husband and I aren’t alone in our rants: Cognac has a terrible reputation for cyclists. Luckily, Vélo d’Vie are there to help the authorities overcome the problems. Let’s hope the people in power listen and take action to make the town safe for everyone. Please.

If you like cycling and are interested in helping improve the safety for cyclists in Cognac, why not join Vélo d’Vie too?

Flow Vélo 8 : One Hundred?

La Flow Vélo from St. Simeux to Chez Maillet (around Angoulême)

The last few days of our holidays came all too quickly. We’d reserved them for exciting activities like painting our peeling window shutters. But after two weeks of trekking up 3000-metre peaks, it would have been a waste of our hard-earned fitness to stay at home. Far better to finish our holidays in style.

Without further ado I pulled out all the equipment I’d packed away and we set off to complete the gap in our exploration of the Flow Vélo upstream of Cognac: the urban part around Angoulême. There was no need to catch a train to get to Saint-Simeux, the last point we’d reached back in July. We were fit. We would cycle from home and not stop until we’d tasted the beer from the Rainette micro-brewery in Chazelles – which was closed last time we passed by.

I reckoned it was a 70km ride: 40km to Angoulême and about 30 from there to Chazelles. We could do it in a day and sleep at the campsite in Chazelles. Then on Day 2 we could do a day trip to discover the Scandibérique cycleway north of the Flow Vélo, and on Day 3 we’d return home. It would be a gentle finish to this year’s sporty holidays.

We started at 8:30am on a Saturday and sped along the riverside track from Cognac to Saint-Simeux, a distance of 36km.

This is the most picturesque part of the Flow Vélo for me. We passed the Jarnac castles, an idyllic bathing spot near Bassac (see the photo opposite), the pretty hamlet of Juac, the Romanesque bridge at Angeac-Champagne and then followed the railway line to the outdoor recreational park in Châteauneuf.

You’ll find the details of this section in parts 4 and 7 of my Flow Vélo posts.

The village of Saint-Simeux is 4km further along the track from Châteauneuf. Last time we were here I’d seen signs to a campsite handily close to the Pub Gabariers (which holds regular rock concerts) and wanted to check it out. So we ignored the Flow Vélo signs telling us to cross the bridge and instead followed the track towards the Mosnac lock, 1km further along the left bank of the River Charente. We had a lovely view of Saint-Simeux from here.

We found the Nomade campsite (Tel: 06 02 30 17 48) – which is basically a garden with a bar, where you can pitch your tent. There’s also a sign to say that the owner can repair your bicycle. Nobody was there when we passed. When we asked around, we heard it costs 5€ a night but that there are no facilities (toilets, shower).

A little further along the track we found a site called the Géoferme. This new establishment couples an educational farm with a food truck serving organic food. Unfortunately, we were too early for a meal.

The Flow Vélo from Saint-Simeux to Sireuil is a 7km stretch of road, which I didn’t find particularly interesting. Sireuil is a long village (with a bakery and shop) and at the far end is the Nizour campsite, where we stayed on our cycling trip back in 2019.

Just after the campsite is the Sireuil bridge and quay, where the Flow Vélo returns to the riverbank. There’s a bar (Le Cabanon), public toilets and washing machines as well as a bread dispenser. And this sculpture.

When we cycyled to Angoulême in 2019 there was a stretch of rough ground after Sireuil: a nightmare with our makeshift trailer. I’m delighted to report that this is now a beautifully smooth track.

Our next stop was one I’d eagerly anticipated: in the village of Trois Palis, the chocolate-maker Letuffe has its workshop and boutique. They sell a whole range of products, from chocolate to teapots, including artisanal ice-creams. Guess what I bought?

It’s easy to miss this place. When you arrive at the medieval church, go straight on instead of turning right into the Rue Ancienne d’Angoulême. The boutique is about 100m on your left.

After passing under the railway line, we arrived at the Fleurac lock, where there’s a little snack bar with a big garden – and a friendly goat called Belle. Having done 54km, it was time for a break so we had lunch and a siesta on the island beside the lock.

Fleurac marks the start of an older cycleway – La Coulée Verte – that takes you along the river and through Angoulême to the lake at St Yrieix. As you can see in this photo, it’s a shady path, one of our favourite parts of the Flow Vélo.

At Fléac, we crossed a road and passed a guinguette where you can hire canoes. This is definitely the stretch for taking breaks, because a little further on you’ll find another snack bar, La Coulée Douce, at the Thouérat lock. This one is notable for its inflatable furniture in the garden.

With 61km on the clock, we passed under the Angoulême ring road, and a couple of kilometres later we arrived at St Cybard, where the Flow Vélo takes a boardwalk under a bridge (I advise you to dismount here and walk for 50 metres).

Just after this we arrived at the Chais Magelis, home to the Comics Museum. There are toilets in the entrance here and food trucks on the esplanade.

By now, I was beginning to realise that my estimate of a 70km ride to Chazelles was a little optimistic. It’s only 44km from Cognac to Angoulême… by road. Following the loops in the river makes the route a lot longer. However, we felt fit and only had 3 days before returning to work, so we decided to push on.

The Flow Vélo route around Greater Angoulême was a true delight. It takes you past the Houmeau port, where you have a great view of the town (I took this photo on the return trip, hence the dark sky).

After l’Houmeau, the Flow Vélo leaves the Coulée Verte before arriving at the lake. From here, we cycled along quiet streets, little alleys and riverside parks for a distance of 20km: from Gond-Pontouvre, past the Roffit cemetery (stop here for water AND toilets); around the Isle d’Espagnace industrial estate (where we got a little lost but had a great chat with a couple on a tandem); through Ruelle-sur-Touvre and Magnac-sur-Touvre, where we joined the beautiful Touvre river (I fell in love with this waterway during our cycling trip in 2019), and finally to the famous Touvre Source.

It’s worth stopping to visit the Touvre source, which is the second biggest source in France. There are actually four sources in the same area, of which the most recent appeared in 1755 after an earthquake in Lisbon. Although it’s only 12km long, this amazing little river doubles the current in the River Charente. There’s also a great legend about how the source appeared – a mix between Rapunzel and Romeo & Juliet.

It’s worth stopping to rest at the Touvre source because there’s a nasty surprise awaiting you afterwards. Until now, the route had been flat, with a few little slopes to cross bridges. But the two-kilometre-long hill up to the Bois-Blanc forest was a shock, especially with 80km on the clock. We’d never cycled so far in one day – and our bikes were loaded with camping equipment.

Luckily, from the top of the hill, the Flow Vélo continued downhill all the way to Brouterie, where it joined the former railway, the Coulée d’Oc. This tarmacked cycleway – which includes an exciting tunnel passage where you’re completely in the dark – took us past Chez Maillet and along the final 15km of our ride to Chazelles. I’ve detailed the section from Chez Maillet to Nontron in Part 6 of my Flow Vélo posts.

It was 6:30pm when we arrived in Chazelles, with 93km on the clock. We’d achieved our objective but we were too tired to drink a beer.

That’s a joke. Of course we weren’t too tired for beer!

We headed straight for the Rainette brewery, housed in a former mill, and collapsed at a table with our blonde and blanche beers. The brewery is only open from Wednesdays to Saturdays, 4-9pm, so we had to make the most of this unique opportunity to try the beer – which was delicious. I was aghast to see that the pretty Bandiat river had completely dried up.

After refreshments and buying food for dinner from the local shops in Chazelles, we trundled the 1.5km from the village to Le Buron campsite. I’d booked a pitch for the night and was impressed by the owner’s consideration on the phone as he warned me that a group had booked and that there may be queues for the showers.

The campsite is beautiful, spacious parkland. William, the owner, is friendly and the ambiance is one of the true camping spirit, rather than a commercial venture.

There are no individual pitches, just different areas of the huge park. He provides personal tables and chairs for each camper; the shower block is small but clean and airy; and there’s an undercover area with a big table so it’s easy to meet other campers.

As a bonus, there weren’t even any moquitoes.

At 12€ per person, it’s not too expensive, given the service and the quality of the setting. I loved it.

Due to a night filled with songs emanating from the other side of the campsite, where a women’s rugby team were having an annual reunion, we were tired the next morning. But the whole reason for coming here was to discover the Scandibérique cycleway that heads north from the village of Marthon, a little further along the Flow Vélo.

I won’t bother you with details here. Suffice to say that we cycled 65km up and down the Dordogne hills, to Montbron, Eymouthiers, Chambon and the gorgeous little village of Ecuras. I didn’t much like the Scandibérique route, which took bigger roads than the lanes we prefer. We finished by choosing our own route for the return to Chazelles.

The next day, we packed up our belongings and headed home.

My husband was determined to hit the 100km mark. Was this why he suggested a detour to visit the centre of Angoulême?

In any case, we huffed and puffed up the route suggested in my Flow Vélo guide, and reached the top of the hill on which Angoulême’s historic centre is perched. It was a bank holiday and there was very little traffic. I was actually delighted to idle around the streets on my bike, especially as it meant we were able to admire the plethora of street art.

Angoulême is famous for its comics festival, and much of the street art was done by famous artists. I must do the tourist office’s guided visit of the murals one of these days.

My favourite illustration was a life-size comic strip trompe-l’oeil painted on a long wall. I’ve included it below, in the form of a slideshow, with a translation below each image. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

“So? Can you see anything?”“Yes… Look!”“Hmm… it’s what I feared.”“What? Another interior world?”“Worse than that! It’s reality.”

The detour around Angoulême, when added to a couple more small detours on our return journey, took us to 99.5km upon our arrival home. But we were too tired to cycle around the village to add the last 500 metres necessary to take us to one hundred.

And that’s not a joke!

Exhausted after our 260km trip over 3 days, we collapsed on our sofa and let our daughters feed us – and serve us a well deserved beer. We were in perfect shape to start work the next day!

Thank you for reading this long blog post. I hope it hasn’t exhausted you as much as the trip exhausted me! Perhaps we’ll reach 100 km next time.

Flow Vélo 7 : Thank God for Cemeteries

La Flow Vélo from Bassac to St. Simeux

Our forays along the Flow Vélo cycleway during the spring made cycling seem such a natural form of transport that we decided to go further during our summer holidays.

The ideal opportunity came when a friend invited us to a weekend party at his new home near Niort.

We checked the map: Niort was only 70km away.

Given our hardened buttocks and vast experience of cycling, we decided to go there by bike.

I won’t detail the trip, since it didn’t take us along the Flow Vélo – instead, we drew a line from A to B on our map and then deviated east and west, following our compasses (which didn’t always agree with each other – but that’s another story) along lanes and tracks. We felt as if we were in a different region and it was always a shock to see signposts bearing familiar names.

So many places caught our attention that we ended up doing 120km to get to our destination. We cycled through the woods around St Bris des Bois; followed the Boutonne Valley bike route; and discovered the wonderful village of Dampierre-sur-Boutonne with its friendly campsite, the village bar and the amazing (new) boutique run by 25 local artists.

After a couple of days’ rest at home (i.e. washing clothes, treating wounds and adjusting equipment), we set off again, this time to discover the section of the Scandibérique cycleway south of the River Charente. To get there, we cycled the Flow Vélo from Cognac to Saint-Simeux, a part of which I will detail below.

We left the Flow Vélo at Châteauneuf and followed the Scandibérique signs southwards, which took us to Barbezieux and along La Galope Chopine cycleway to Baignes (where we camped) and which continues to Clérac. From Bagines, which has a fantastic Moroccan restaurant (L’Arganier), we cycled along one of the nine circuits of the South Charente to discover the woody landscapes around Oriolles, Boisbreteau, Guizengard and Chevanceaux. The guide for these circuits is available at the local tourist offices / Baignes campsite.

It was hot during our trips: 40°C one day and above 30°C all the time. But I didn’t suffer from the heat at all. Why not? For two reasons.

Firstly, because I cycled with my knickers on my head.

Don’t laugh. And don’t expect a photo. The reason I stooped to such indelicacy was because my helmet has aeration slots in it, which expose my head to sunstroke. By lining my helmet with my knickers (clean ones, I hastily assure you) – and combined with the second major discovery we made, I was able to keep cool.

The second discovery was one that all cyclists and walkers in France should be told.

We only had a limited supply of water and soon ran out. Luckily, we arrived at a village before the bottles were completely empty and stopped at the first house. Just as I was taking off my knickers (the ones on my head) in preparation to knock at the door and ask for a refill, my husband had an idea.

Opposite the house was the village cemetery. Inside cemeteries, the graves are decorated by colourful plants. The plants need water. Bingo! Yes, you’ll find that every cemetery in France has a tap. As long as the tap doesn’t have a sign saying ‘Eau non-potable’ (water unfit for drinking) you can be sure that it’s a safe supply. From this point onwards, we stopped in every cemetery, filled up our bottles and doused ourselves (and my knickers) with cold water.

Water is also available in public toilets, which are often near the village church, and sometimes there’s an outdoor tap near the mairie. At riverside ports, there are water taps in the electricity pillars designed for boats to hook up to.

Enough about our other cycling trips and back to the Flow Vélo.

Earlier in the year, we stopped our downstream Flow Vélo exploration at the Pont de Vinade near Bassac. Today, I’m going to tell you a little about the next section, from Bassac to Châteauneuf and onto Saint-Simeux.

At the Pont de Vinade, the Flow Vélo continues on the north side of the river. This isn’t marked on the guide, because it’s a new section. We followed the signs along tracks through woods and maize plantations until we reached the next bridge, the Pont de Juac.

This is a good stopping point, as it has a bicycle pump, tables and benches. You can also take a trip along the river on a gabarre, one of the traditional boats used to transport cognac barrels. A little further east from Juac is the village of Saint-Simon, where you’ll find a museum all about gabarres.

At Juac, we met slam artist Max, a Belgian traveller cycling his non-electric recumbent bicycle and caravan across Europe.

He gave us a guided tour of his home and told us how he’s preparing a nomad slam album with the musicians he meets along his trip.

The Flow Vélo changes to the southern riverbank at Juac. Contrary to the guide’s route along roads, the track now continues along the river. Again, we found this a pleasant ride. The only time we were on roads were when we crossed the little village of Angeac-Charente. Then we were back on riverside track all the way (8km) to the small town of Châteauneuf-sur-Charente.

Châteauneuf is a good place to stop. There’s a campsite in the nearby village of Chassors, which is indicated from the cycleway. And you can also bivouac at the leisure area (Le Bain des Dames) beside the river. We paused here for an ice-cream and then a local beer while we considered camping for the night.

Châteauneuf has all the amenities you could need, including a tourist office and market. There’s even a train station, so you can catch a train home if you’re tired. We met a Parisian family here, who had caught the train to Angoulême and were cycling the Flow Vélo before catching a train home from Rochefort. This kind of holiday is becoming more and more popular – to the extent that we discussed opening a campsite/bicycle repair workshop/bar somewhere along the Flow Vélo.

There’s just one warning at Châteauneuf: look carefully at the cycleway signs! The ‘Tour de la Charente‘ signs look very similar to the Flow Vélo ones.

From Châteauneuf, the Flow Vélo continues past the leisure area and onto Saint-Simeux. This village is known by British ex-pats because of its pub, called the Pub Gabariers and run by a Brit. Here, you can drink Guinness, play Pétanque and eat fish & chips. You can no longer camp on the property, but I did see a campsite sign on the far side of the bridge. I didn’t check it out, so I’m not sure what it’s like.

The last time we cycled in this area, we took a short cut via the D22 from Vibrac to St.Simeux. This avoids the Châteauneuf loop of the river but it means cycling up a long hill onto a plateau and then back down a steep hill through the village of St. Simeux. In our desperation to reach our pints of Guinness, I’m not sure we made the right choice!

The sun is still shining and our bicycles are raring to go – having been abandoned while we went trekking in the Pyrenees mountains for a couple of weeks.

I’m eager to get back on my saddle. Will we continue east or head west from St. Savinien to the sea in the next episode of our Flow Vélo exploration?

Whatever we decide, I’ll keep you updated.

Behind the Women’s Voices

Every now and again, a dynamic person makes a gift of their time and energy to the writing community.

Such is the case for Sally Palmer, the driving force behind the Women’s Voices anthology of poetry, prose and artwork.

The aim of this initiative is to give a voice to women writing in south west France, no matter where they are on their writing journey. 

As soon as I heard about this inclusive concept, I fell in love with it. This wasn’t about judging the literary merit of a writer. It didn’t require writers to sell their souls to gain a publishing deal. It was about giving all writers the chance to say what they wanted to say.

The first anthology, entitled I’ve Got Something To Say, was published on 8 March 2020, coinciding with International Women’s Day.

The second anthology – I’ve Got Something MORE To Say – was launched on 26 June 2022 and was celebrated with a live event of drama, author readings from the anthology, music and art displays.

As I have a story in this second edition (Sketches), I decided it was the ideal opportunity to meet up with the friendly community of writers in France.

I hadn’t seen most of them for over two years and was desperate to return to this source of literary inspiration.

So I bought my train ticket, hitched a lift with the lovely Kate Rose and headed down to deepest Gers, where Sally kindly accommodated us (as well as poet Amanda Speed, another contributor) for the weekend.

Before the launch took place, Sally had already received over 150 pre-orders for the anthology, which is also available to buy on Amazon.

And what a display they made in the village hall of Ponsan-Soubiran, the venue for the afternoon event.

Instead of sharing a write-up of the launch, I thought you might prefer to hear Sally’s story about the Women’s Voices initiative. She answered my questions as we sat in her Gers home overlooking the misty Pyrenees mountains.

Q1: What inspired you to publish the first Women’s Voices collection?

I retired from my academic career in Early Childhood Studies in 2016 and started to spend more time in France. This meant a change from active engagement in my profession to being a ‘lady of leisure’. I worried that I would become one of those women who have nothing to say, that I’d become a voiceless woman. 

I was discussing this with my friend Ellen Rugen in a coffee shop one day in 2018. Ellen had already written and published several books. Our discussion led to the idea of us publishing a creative writing collection as a way of continuing to make our voices heard. This was a challenge for me, because although I’ve had many articles published in professional journals, I’m a novice in creative writing.  

We decided to offer this channel of communication to other women around us who might feel the same way. We set up a steering group of four women and on 8 March 2020 we succeeded in launching I’ve Got Something To Say. It took us about a year to produce and contained 20 contributors.

Q2: How did the second edition come about?

I only really wanted to do one book. But the result was a success and we considered continuing with a second edition.

There was no theme for the first edition. It focused on people’s personal experiences, which was fine, but if we were going to do a second edition, we wanted it to be different, more imaginative. Although I was concerned that having a theme might put people off, we came up with a bank of ideas. I liked the idea of synchronicity but we eventually voted for transition.

The theme must have been inspiring because we attracted 32 authors for the second edition, as well as work from artists. The artwork is important because it breaks up the poetry and prose – and of course the artists also have something to say.

Q3: I love the inclusive element of the anthology but it must have been hard to manage. How did you organise the project and produce work of such a high standard?

It was really important that we didn’t reject anyone’s work. The collection is about giving people a chance to say something, so if we’d rejected their work it would have been invalidating their voice. Instead, we gave editorial advice to make sure their words communicated what they wanted to say in the best possible way. 

Our steering group contained three women: myself, Anne Dickens and Molly Brotherton. We split the contributions into three groups to edit, and we also asked women outside the group to help with the proofreading.

In terms of communication, we used word of mouth and our Facebook group. The last launch included a choir as well as readings and it attracted 100 people. This time, we wanted a simple picnic and readings to reduce the organisational aspect. But the event grew and in the end we had theatrical representations, art displays, bookstalls and the singers Double G&T as well as author readings.

Q4: How did you choose the order of work in the anthology?

In the interest of equality, we used alphabetic order by author name in the first edition. For the second edition we used the titles to class the work in alphabetical order. 

Q5: What part did you find the hardest?

For me, the most worrying things are the errors. Despite all the proofreading, errors inevitably creep in. It’s heart-wrenching to hear that we’ve made a mistake in an author’s name, for example.

Q6: Will there be a third edition?

We’ve had some lovely feedback from people who were glad for the opportunity to express themselves. But I feel we’ve achieved what we wanted. I’m not planning to publish a third edition.

If someone else wants to publish a collection, that would be great. But they must do their own thing, in their own way, using their own voice. 

***

Many thanks to Sally and her team for creating the publication and organising the launch.

It was fantastic to see familiar faces again, to meet new people, to be entertained by music, art and drama (and to see people buying my books!). 

A special thanks to David, Sally’s husband, for the cooking, and to Kate, Amanda and Ellen for their inspiring company.

Both the first and second anthologies are available to buy on Amazon. Happy reading!

Biography: Sally Palmer

Sally has been visiting France for the last thirty-seven years and has a house in the Gers. Since retiring from academia she has set up the Women’s Voices writing group to promote and share the writing talents of women living in south west France. Her own journey into the creative genre of writing is just beginning and she values time spent with her local writing group which has provided challenges and inspiration. She recently completed a Creative Writing Course and a Master Class on Storytelling. She avidly believes that all women have something to say and actively promotes this philosophy.

Women’s Voices Anthology Launch

Next weekend, women writers from the south west of France will be meeting to celebrate the launch of our new collection of poetry and short stories.

Written on the theme of ‘Transitions’, the collection is entitled ‘I’ve got something more to say’. This is the second edition of the collection (the first, last year, was called ‘I’ve got something to say’).

I’m looking forward to seeing new and familiar faces. I’m not looking forward so much to reading out ‘Sketches’, my contribution to the anthology.

If you’re in the area on Sunday 26 June, come and meet us. There will be books for sale.

After the event, the collection will be available to buy from Amazon.

Flow Vélo 6: Close to Catastrophe

La Flow Vélo from Chez Maillet (near Pranzac) to Nontron :

At Pentecost – the Platinum Jubilee weekend – we decided to take our chances with the stormy weather and give our bikes a night away from home. As this meant 2 days of cycling instead of one, we opted to explore east of Angoulême, where the Flow Vélo cycle route deserts the River Charente and heads into the Dordogne along the minor River Bandiat.

I haven’t been itinerant cycling for years (my husband has never done it), so I spent a while making lists and digging out the equipment we’d need.

It was important for us to be comfortable at night. In past itinerant cycling trips I used a light camping mat. This time, we took our ultimate comfort self-inflating mats, which are as cushy as our bed at home. Honestly! The disadvantage is their bulkiness. Nevertheless, my husband wasn’t deterred by the huge roll on the back of his bike.

Other than the mattresses, our equipment was pretty much minimal. One of our best buys were waterproof canoe bags. Not only do they protect our sleeping bags, mattresses and tent from rain (sleet, snow, hailstones…), they also safeguard them from trailing brambles.

Before leaving, we loaded our bikes and then, for fun, weighed them. The result was a shock: me & my bike came in at 94kg while my husband and his bike weighed 100kg. Worried that they’d be too heavy to move, we took them for a spin around our home. I was relieved to find that I could still pedal up a hill. In fact, I hardly noticed the extra weight. Not during the 2km test ride.

In a past cycling trip we had pedalled as far as Touvre, so on Sunday morning we started a few kilometres east of Touvre, where the Flow Vélo crosses the D699 at Chez Maillet. There is a small car park here, hidden behind the houses in Rue des Coquelicots. A couple of other cars with bike carriers were already parked there. It seemed an ideal place for our car to spend the night.

Off we set, along a flat, tarmac section of the Flow Vélo known as the Coulée d’Oc. This is a former railway line and runs south-east along the River Bandiat valley.

The Coulée d’Oc made for pleasant cycling through a holloway. The countryside is wilder here than along the sections further downstream of the Flow Vélo. At the numerous level crossings, the hedges open to give views of green forests and golden cornfields, maize and sunflower plantations. We were also treated to the sweet (?) aroma of cattle.

After about 8km, we arrived at La Gare (the station), close to the village of Chazelles.

Here, we stopped to examine this wooden gantry. Installed in 1896, it was used until 1960 to transport stone. Opposite the gantry is the Association G’Art building: a B&B, social café and water point. There’s also a car park so it’s a good starting point for a bike ride.

The Flow Vélo continued but we left it at the level crossing to visit the village of Chazelles, less than a kilometre away. It’s a pity that we cycle on Sundays and bank holidays, because there are several interesting places to see here.

Firstly, we discovered a craft brewery called La Rainette, housed in a mill. It opens at weekends and boasts a cute bar beside the river.

We were really disappointed that we couldn’t taste their beer. But it did give us an idea for a future cycling trip… Think Cognac (Jack Beer), Foussignac (La Goule), Angoulême (La Débauche), Chazelles (La Rainette), Nontron (La Paluche). Oh, what a coincidence: those places all lie along the Flow Vélo!

Chazelles also has a craft soap-maker and a wooden toy maker, as well as a few shops and some toilets beside the Mediathèque in the main square. Camping is possible a kilometre further along the Flow Vélo at Le Buron (06 78 25 84 39).

And look! The river was in flower. It’s a shame the sun wasn’t out to make this a better photo.

Back on the Flow Vélo, we noticed signs to the Grottes du Quéroy, a series of caves that lie about 4km off the Flow Vélo. With a 1.2km circuit through 30 chambers, they make for an interesting visit, especially if the weather is hot or there’s a storm.

After Chazelles, we crossed the Demarcation Line from the Second World War, passing from the occupied to the free zone. How did we know? Because of an information panel beside the cycle path. One of the things I loved about the Coulée d’Oc – apart from the many picnic tables – are the information panels placed at regular intervals. Every panel is a good excuse for a break to add to our knowledge.

We stopped for lunch at one of the tables, at which point I realised we were under an acacia tree on one side and a hawthorn on the other. I quickly checked my tyres for punctures. We were lucky. This time.

Soon after passing the Pont Sec at St.Germain-de-Montbron, we arrived at Marthon station with its toilets and water point. Our curiosity was drawn to a big building with bicycles hung all around it. Do you know what it is? If so, please let me know. The second photo is the former train station.

Again, we left the Flow Vélo to visit the village: if we’d turned left instead of right, we could have continued along the Scandibérique cycleway, which runs from Spain to Norway. But that was slightly beyond our weekend ambitions.

Marthon has a café (closed today, unfortunately) and also some castle ruins. For the first time of the day, I used my muscles to cycle up the steep hill to visit the tower. It’s worth crossing the pretty village to see the views (my photos don’t do them justice).

After Marthon, the cycleway – older and bumpier – was less enclosed and soon touched on the village of Feuillade, which we didn’t visit, partly because we weren’t paying enough attention to the signposts and got a little lost. A couple of kilometres later, the gentle railway came to a halt and the Flow Vélo continued on small roads. The real work was about to begin. We were nearing the Dordogne, reputed for its hills and valleys.

The lane through Les Grandes Rivières hamlet was blocked to traffic by two boulders but bicycles could pass. We crossed the pretty River Bandiat – in flower again – and then, as I’d suspected, the lane started to climb.

It amused me to see we were heading for a village called Souffrignac, so-named no doubt because you suffer in attempting to reach its heady heights (to suffer is ‘souffrir’ in French).

As it was Sunday, we weren’t able to enjoy the syrups and jams from the organic shop Les Jardins du Bandiat in Souffrignac. Instead, we continued up the hill, enjoying the birdsong and quiet roads. Our stop in the village of La Chapelle-Saint-Robert, on the plateau, was welcome, not just for the toilets opposite the church. This is an isolated, ‘olde worlde’ village, with many tumbledown houses. There were even an ancient water pump and petrol distributor.

We were on top of the world, here, surrounded by hay rolls. Freshly cut grass scented the air as we freewheeled down to Javerlhac, gathering energy for the climb up the hill to St-Martin-Le-Pin.

However, just outside Javerlhac, we ran into a cycling race. Literally. The road to St.Martin-Le-Pin was closed so we couldn’t cycle along the Flow Vélo route up the long, steep hill to the village. What a shame.

Instead, the race marshals let us take the flat main road along the valley alongside the racing cyclists. We went much faster, though some of the cyclists overtook us. OK, all of the cyclists overtook us. But we did get a cheer or two from onlooking bystanders.

By now, I was starting to feel a little saddlesore and our passage through this village seemed very apt.

Luckily, a few kilometres later we arrived at our destination – the small town of Nontron. Or, rather, the village of St.Martial-de-Valette, on the outskirts of Nontron, which was marked on our Flow Vélo guide by a tent logo. My odometer read 45km: not bad for our first trip with loaded bikes.

The campsite L’Agrion Bleu was calm, spacious and filled with beautiful, mature trees. Although the environment around the site was industrial, including a sewage system not far away, the campsite itself was perfect, boasting copious hot water, a washing machine & tumble dryer and a fridge as well as petanque, a playground and pool, table football and a flipper in the bar. The town swimming pool and sports ground is right next door. It would make a good base for a holiday and is open all year round.

We set up camp beside the River Bandiat and booked our meal at the snack bar, where the owner promised us our favourite local beer: La Paluche, made by Les Deux Ours brewery, which we’d discovered on a previous trip to the Dordogne. Then we cycled our light-as-air bikes up the hill to discover Nontron, which spreads over two steep-sided hills: hence the need for viaducts.

Being a Sunday evening, pretty much everything was closed, though we did find an open bar where we drank our well deserved aperitifs. Back at the campsite we felt blessed to have found a snack bar and a friendly owner. The sun even came out while we ate our Perigourdine salad and drank our Paluche beer, making a fitting end to our Sunday.

Little did we know what the next day had in store for us.

Monday morning dawned cloudy and cool again, a pleasing 20°C. My husband had heard the sound of the sewage pump in the night, but all I’d noticed were owls and the babbling water in the river. We were refreshed and ready to pedal again.

Although we were to make the return journey along the same route, there would be new things to discover, starting with the hilly road through the village of St.Martin-de-Pin.

To reach St.Martin we had to cycle through Nontron. This gave great views and allowed us to buy lunch, but it also meant that we began the day warming up our stiff muscles (though not as stiff as I’d feared) pedalling uphill for about 10km. Or so it seemed. In fact it was probably only about 4km. The countryside, however, with its hayfields and forests, made the effort worthwhile. I was glad we hadn’t attempted this route the previous day – though we’d experienced worse (better?) in La Creuse.

St.Martin-le-Pin was a tiny village of red tiled roofs with a pretty church, though no shops. Although we were on the D94 road, there was little traffic and it was good to be in the hills after yesterday’s valley ride. All too soon we were back at Javerlhac, the point where we picked up the route we’d taken yesterday.

Given that we’d only torn ourselves away from our comfortable mattresses on the campsite at 11am, we decided to stop for lunch at Javerlhac. Something we have learned over the past weeks is that it’s important to eat a snack and have a rest before you actually feel tired. Today’s lunch stop was one of the best, beside the Bandiat river in Javerlhac. I loved the architecture in this village.

It was after lunch that our idyllic journey took a turn for the worse.

They say problems arrive in threes, so I guess the first ‘problem’ was when it started to rain. Actually, the shower was refreshing. The earthy smell of petrichor and the flowering ground ivy along the verges kept my spirits uplifted. At first. After a while I started to feel a little chilly. Working on the principle that putting on a raincoat would stop the rain, I was relieved when the shower passed. At least it allowed us to test our waterproof bags.

Arriving in Feuillade, I called for a stop. I wanted to leave the Flow Vélo and visit the village, just in case a café was open for a warming cup of coffee. As we turned our bikes, I saw that my husband’s back tyre looked flat. Yes, it was punctured. The back wheel is always more difficult because you have to faff around with the chain and gears. Especially in the rain. I was glad I wasn’t alone.

Being too lazy to unload the bags, I struggled to hold up the bike while my husband disentangled the wheel – cutting his hand in the process – and found the thorn in the tyre. We’d only got one spare inner tube and I held my breath as he unrolled it: we’d bought it years ago and the rubber seemed decidedly perished. I hadn’t checked it before we left.

Luckily, it seemed to hold the air. And luckily, my bike’s tyres looked fine. We didn’t even resort to swearing.

All seemed well and we raced (well, cycled without stopping very often) back along the Coulée d’Oc to Chez Maillet, where we found our car sitting happily where we’d left it. Thanks to my ingenious husband, who had found a way of attaching both bikes to our carrier (remember the problem last time?), we were able to load the bikes onto the car. We began the drive home, satisfied with the performance of our leg muscles, with our puncture-repairing skills and our time spent in the Dordogne. I was already looking forward to our next Flow Vélo itinerant trip.

As we whizzed along the dual carriageway, the car gave a sudden jerk. I glanced over my shoulder. The car behind was flashing its headlights. My husband swore. He put on the warning lights. We pulled over. I jumped out (forgetting my yellow vest). That’s when I saw my bike hanging off the carrier, looking a little embarrassed. It had tried to escape. Had it thought it could take flight? Or had it argued with my husband’s bike?

I’ll never know. But I do know that I was relieved we’d managed to catch it before any damage was done. Otherwise, my cycling adventures would have stopped here.

Flow Vélo 5: A Rant and a Ride

La Flow Vélo from Port-d’Envaux to Geay:

Remember I told you about that trekking tent we bought; the one that represents an itinerant cycling holiday? Well, a couple of weeks ago, with a trial weekend of cycling and camping in mind, we opened the package to check we were able to pitch the new tent.

To our frustration, we discovered that the shop had sold us a used tent, covered in grass and mud, with missing pegs and a ripped zip. Our camping weekend plans had to change at the last minute. We weren’t impressed. Next time we’ll pitch our tent in the shop before we leave.

OK, rant over. Back to today’s cycle ride.

A trip to Saintes train station on Ascension Thursday was the opportunity to return our tent to the shop and also to continue our exploration of the Flow Vélo cycleway. We loaded our bikes onto the car: actually, my bike had to go into the car because the carrier will only hold one bike now. Why? Because my husband has become so keen on the idea of itinerant cycling that he’s fitted pannier frames all over his bike.

In fact, he even bought himself a new bike (though not from the same shop as the tent) to replace the 25-year-old one he was using. He tells me it’s because the mechanic couldn’t mend the pedal crankset. However, the day he brought home the new bike, I noticed that the old one had a flat tyre. Coincidence? Faint-heartedness on his part? Or a sulking bike, upset at being replaced by a new one?

Whatever. The point is that instead of studying the ladybird larvae activity in our wilderness, he has been wielding spanners and Allen keys, pannier frames and bags of all shapes and sizes. Our recent outings have won him over to the joys of cycling! We may not have a tent yet, but my idea of an itinerant cycling holiday is certainly taking shape.

The bank holiday dawned cool, cloudy and dry; ideal cycling weather for fair-skinned riders like us, though not so good for photos.

We drove to our last stopping point downstream of Cognac – the charming village of Port d’Envaux – and unloaded our bikes. How I love this little village, as I mentioned in my blog post a few weeks ago.

I checked that Le Canotiers food and drink stand was open for post-cycling nourishment (it was) and we cycled through the village, downstream towards Crazannes.

We took a short detour to check out Panloy castle at the far end of Port d’Envaux. The exterior was disappointing because all we could see were the outbuildings behind the château, though it looks fantastic on their website. Luckily, after a few kilometres along a shady, narrow track, we arrived at Crazannes castle. This 14th century château is nick-named ‘Puss-in-Boots’ castle, as Charles Perrault was inspired to create the Marquis of Carabas (Puss-in-Boots’ master) after its owner.

Our bike ride could have ended here, with my climb up the boundary wall to get a photo of the castle facade. The challenge would have been easy in my climbing boots, but my ex-jogging trainers, which are now my cycling trainers, weren’t as practical for climbing. Still, I managed to get up, take a photo and then scramble down without breaking an ankle or spraining a knee. I don’t think my husband noticed my antics, because he’d cycled on ahead as soon as I announced my intention. He must have seen something interesting in the hedge.

Crazannes is another quintessential village of winding streets and stone houses. It has a picnic area beside the lavoir and, at the far end of the village, in the hamlet called Prévallon, lies the Camping du Petit Bonheur with its 33 pitches and a snack bar. Cycle 200 metres further and you’ll arrive at a riverside area called the Port de la Touche, which seems to be popular with fishermen.

With dog roses flowering in the hedges and wafts of wild honeysuckle filling our nostrils, it didn’t matter that the sun was too shy to make an appearance. What did make an appearance was a coypu, one of the animals that’s classed as a pest along the River Charente. It waddled out of a hedge and crossed the road at a lazy trot, like an over-fed cat. I haven’t been so close to one before. It reminded me of the beavers I saw in Chile, 30 years ago.

The tracks along the stretch of the Flow Vélo between Crazannes and St.Savinien are pleasant but the surfaces aren’t great. There is also little contact with the river. I must admit we deviated a little from the marked route in order to follow the lane along the river.

We did see some interesting features, however. They included this four à chaux (lime kiln) near Le Mung. These kilns, operational until 1945, were packed with stone from the quarries in Crazannes and St.Savinien. The stones were baked for 36 hours until they crumbled into lime dust. This lime was then used by people from the coast and the marshes to coat the outsides of their buildings.

The Flow Vélo follows the GR360 footpath from Le Boutet to St.Savinien. I visited St.Savinien a few years ago to see a fellow author, Alison Woodhouse, whose excellent Novella-In-Flash – The House on The Corner – can be bought from Ad Hoc Fiction. Unfortunately, she has moved, so we couldn’t pop in.

St.Savinien is a delightful little town, which would have looked even more idyllic in the sun. What do you think?

Nestled in a crook of the River Charente, St.Savinien has all amenities and would make an excellent base for a holiday. I like the way the island, Ile de la Grenouillette, with its outdoor leisure centre, miniature port and campsite, is separated from the historic town centre.

Following the Flow Vélo towards Geay, we discovered a canal called Le Moussard and cycled along its banks for a few kilometres. Built in 1962, it carries fresh water from the dam at St.Savinien to the marshland around Rochefort.

Our appointment at Saintes train station meant that we could go no further than the sleepy village of Geay, about 8 kilometres downstream of St.Savinien.

We ate an apple at the 12th century Saint-Vivien Church, which struck us as huge for such a small village. Then it was time to turn around and head back towards Port-d’Envaux.

Today’s fields were filled with hairy crops and huddles of cattle as opposed to the vineyards we crossed further upstream.

Perhaps the livestock explained the clouds of gnats that were determined to hitch a ride on my fluorescent jacket. It actually looked much more stylish with black dots all over it.

Our return journey was far quicker, given that we cut out the St.Savinien bend of the River Charente and headed straight back to Crazannes and then Port-d’Envaux. There was a reason for this.

By reducing our trip to just 39 km, we had time to stop for a reward at our favourite countryside port. As the French say: ‘Après l’effort, le réconfort’ (After the effort, the comfort).

This glass of rosé and a bowl of peanuts from Les Canotiers were my comfort after a grey but enjoyable day.