C'est fini

We parted Patricia’s after a wonderful breakfast and headed for Morlaix on the northern coast of Brittany. The hills suddenly became much steeper and the going more difficult. We arrive in Morlaix rather early so we stopped at a boulangerie to buy lunch. After Sally had bought our bread for the day I noticed that my helmet was missing. We have no idea where it got to. It just vanished.

We found a park in the middle of town and we ate our lunch and got the tent out to dry. While I was having a quick snooze a voice asked “Are you Sally and Don”? Our host for the night, Julien happened to be passing by so we packed up the tent and followed him up a long

hill to his house where we unloaded the bags and set off to explore for a few hours in light mode.

We returned and had a very healthy dinner of various salads and as Helen had to leave early we all took ourselves off to bed not long after dinner.

In the morning Julien gave us a lift to Decathlon to buy a new helmet and we parted for our last full day in France. Along the way we stumbled across Decathlon a second time so we checked our various camping equipment as well. The really neat airbed with the inbuilt pump was only available on request so we left with nothing extra. Unfortunately Sally left behind her water bottle so we need a new one sometime soon.

The hills were long and arduous but we cut out the town of ... by early afternoon. It was my birthday but I had as serious guts ache so Sally had to eat on her lonesome. She tried a local gallette with scallops which she described as fishy.

We found our campground for the night and set up the tent on a knoll with a superb view out over the bay. We meet an English couple from Plymouth who told us about a campground on the edge of Plymouth for the next day. They invited us over for drinks after dinner so we obliged and talked away in English until it was very late.

Our last morning in France was warm and sunny but windy and we took the coastal route through to Roscoff where we purchased our tickets for the ferry to Plymouth later that afternoon. We had one last lunch at a small cafe and then joined the queue to get on the ferry. Another cyclist was there and he got sprung by what we assumed was a drug dog and disappeared for while with the gendarmerie before reappearing just before boarding. We said our farewells to France and walked onto the ferry with our bikes.

Salut La France. Where on earth did 3 months and 3997.5 kms go?