Époustouflant

The next day started with a huge downhill to a river valley then back up to the pretty town of Villeneuve. We asked at the tourist office the lady planned an excellent route for us using a topographic map, and then the internet. It was just fantastic. We both agreed it was our best day of cycling yet. It was sunny, downhill for most of the way, and on quiet roads. The villages were just astonishing ( e.g. Salles-Courbatiès), more like an English country garden. We stopped for a 2 hour lunch beside the stream in the middle of the valley La Diège.

The hill to Figeac was massively long and steep and on a very busy

road so we were pleased to arrive in Figeac for the night. We went to 3 gites before we found one with room. It is on the route of St Jaques de Compostelle and every time we have stopped at a town on the route, it has been full. The village itself is a maze of narrow streets lined with cafés and restaurants. Very pleasant on warm spring evening.

The next day we parted for Cayrol, a small village in the Cantal region. We spent the whole day climbing a river valley and then we ascended steeply to the town of Boisset. Along the way we stopped at Maurs ( pronounced Morse) where there was a market in full swing. We ate our lunch in the shade of some trees after scanning the markets for

anything useful ( I got a comb!)

The day was just as stunning as yesterday and we were constantly bombarded by a chorus of birdsong and murmuring streams. The trees were in full regrowth mode. It could have been anywhere in the country in New Zealand so we felt right at home.

At Boisset we were shattered after a particularly nasty climb so we stopped for a break to recharge the batteries. As I was walking my bike up a hill we were passed ( for the second time) by a courier driver. He pulled over and offered us a lift to the top of the hill. As we knew it was fairly hard and steep ahead, we accepted. So for the third time on our trip we cheated. He was a keen cyclist himself and having seen the baggage on the bikes he knew how hard is was. The van was empty at the end of the day so there was plenty of room inside. It was only 10 minutes in the van but it would have taken us 2 hours on the bikes. Quelle chance.

Our host for the night was Hélène. She lived in a small house in the village of Cayrol in the department of Cantal. It was just like a bach in the bush in New Zealand. Being a bit of a hippy-at-heart we loved the stay. She spoke a good smattering of English so we chatted the evening away until it was dark then went to bed.

We learned that the large cows with the enormous horns are breed mainly for their meat but some are milked and it is used to make a special local cheese. They are so stroppy that that do not separate the calves from the cows so the quantity of milk is drastically reduced. The calves have to be nearby during milking or else mum gets very grumpy.

Friday morning there was frost on the ground so we wrapped up warmly and head off for Bretenoux on the Cère river. The road climbed for many kilometres up to 750m and then descended to the village of Saint-Saury. Just outside the village we found our first menhir plonked alongside the road. Later we were passed by a convoy of trucks hauling towers for windmills. Luckily we had time to pull over before they got to us as they were very wide. A few minutes later the gendarmes on their motorbikes who had sedately accompanied the convey, came roaring down the hill at a huge rate of knots, their job done. I swore I could see a grin form ear to ear as they got the chance the go for a blatt on the return trip.

At lunch a old dog came wandering from who knows where , and joined us for some good company. He could smell the salami, so to aid our getaway we tossed a morsel into the distance which he duly sort out. We escaped in the opposite direction.

For the third day in a row we suffered a cacophony of birdsong, cow bells, and the rustling of leaves in the trees.

We love this part of France. Extremely tough on the legs and the lungs, but worth every gasp.

We stopped for the night at Bretenoux where we found a chambre d’hôte for the night. It was more than budgeted for but was a real treat after 4 days of solid slog up into the hills. The next morning was cold and raining so we booked a second night to wait for the miserable weather to clear.
We chatted all through breakfast about the local departments and what to see. At lunch time she offered us the use of her kitchen so we did not have to sit outside in the cold and even made an espresso for Sally. We rate this chambre d”hote as 1st equal in our whole rip around France.