Dead beetles and Crossing the Dordogne !

Another day under my Kevlar lined tyres, more miles covered, more thoughts provoked and yet more medieval villages and ruins, they’re two a penny around here… I’m looking forward to a change of architecture now as I move through central france towards the north… I think I’ve now left the Lot et Garonne and entered the Gironde or is the Dordogne ? Who knows, I seem to be confusing my Departments with my regions with my rivers ! That’s the trouble with dashing north across borders as fast as my pedals will allow, albeit at just 9mph !
I struggled yesterday, it wasn’t the usual aches and pains of the relentless pedalling but something else, an unexplained head trouble, I hate that sort … Not helped by the darkening skies on my approach to Fumel through falling rain, shabby suburbs and gaggles North Africans milling about. Maybe it had something to do with not heading north and a flat ipod battery. Music is such a massive comfort and motivator, it soon becomes as important as air in the tyres and leaves me rather bereft when it fails… It failed and with it a catalogue of inconvenience. A steep wet hill into a labyrinth of one way streets and impatient kids on really noisy scooters. One of which swerved really close, giving me the “bird” and parping his inadequate horn as he passed ! I’d have loved to have caught him up but my humble pedal power was no match for his tiny 49cc testosterone fuelled street fighter !
Today though was better, a good sleep and breakfast in a sort of coffee shop thing, a couple of large milky coffees to wake me up, a pain aux chocolate and baguette sandwich, all washed down with a can of Coke, a drink favoured by athletes like myself for it’s essential sugar content. It would have been a perfect setting were it not for the fly that kept landing on my arm, he was just too nimble at taking off for me to squish him, much to the delight of the French businessman along a bit, I could just catch his smirks out of the corner of my eye with each failed swat… All shiny shoes and pressed clothes, and apparently no flies on him …
There was a pretty annoying tramp too, shuffling the exact same circuit out on the street, like some demented caged animal. He did however break from the monotony for a moment to reach for a freshly dropped cigarette, delighting in sucking the last few drags right down to the filter.
I paid up and left, checked my map and headed out of town. Working through the usual pain barrier of the first few miles I passed a great garage, a Beetle restorer I should think because there were dead Beetles everywhere, loads of them. I tried to find the owner to have a chat but couldn’t find him. I did however take a few photographs. I kept pedalling, I was struggling too, not at all comfortable, the miles were ticking by all too slowly and my mind was back at the night before when I finally found Angies place. I’d about given up when I spied her name on the letter box by some rusty gates leading into a big back yard. I looked through them to see cats and an overweight sausage dog barking at me and a man walking across to me, Jacque, a welcoming and friendly sort, with that all too familiar look of unemployment in his eyes and echoed throughout his whole demeanour. I tell you what, never mind your Crystal balls, Tea leaves or palm readers, I’m sure the eyes surrender the truth to anyone who cares to look deep enough…
Angie returned from work half an hour later. Drinking and smoking may have taken their toll since we shared a house together some 20 years earlier but she was still looking good and I’m sure still turning heads. In the same way her greatest assets had avoided the pull of gravity, her manic spirit and excitement for life had also pulled through unscathed. Promise of home cooking soon gave way to glugging wine, ordering pizzas and hilarious memories of boyfriends, girlfriends and hair brain antics back in Gloucester, years before. The wine flowed and language merged seamlessly from English to French and back again as Jacque tried to understand best he could. I was reminded of memories, such as the time we’d placed the maximum order on a clothing catalogue, hoping the delivery would be left outside without a signature, then dashing about like headless chickens when we saw the delivery man striding towards the front door brandishing our huge parcel. He must have been blind not to have seen us diving at speed over the sofa into hiding, with Ginny, or was it Jenny the dog going berserk, barking and bouncing off the walls each time he knocked!
Eventually he left and we climbed out to find a small fortune worth of clothes, packaged and sat on the doorstep, which of course were never paid for … Because they never arrived, did they.
The 20 years faded away and the three of us had fine night, thanks Angie.

Now, with just 18 miles behind me, I was struggling at the onset of another hill when a random act of nature and ipod collided as the sun broke through, warming my back and throwing a dark shadow out in front of me to the opening bars of a Keiser Chiefs track … It was perfect and powered me along some more…
Eventually fatigue got the better of me, coupled with a very close 18 wheeler and huge draught forcing me painfully down a ditch, with a painful landing on hundreds of prickly Chestnuts and a particularly nasty lump of something under my bad knee ! So, my second crash, which probably isn’t too bad considering the mileage, but it left me feeling very sorry for myself as I pushed my bike down the road for about a mile or so giving some serious thought to jacking the whole thing in to save any permanent damage to the knee..
I finally arrived at Suzanne and Chris’ place to a fine shower and cold Beer and lovely food … All thoughts of giving up quelled and ready to face the 50 odd miles ahead of me tomorrow up through Bergerac and beyond …

Ok.. So, it's now tomorrow... Or today even. I had a great nights sleep and fine breakfast to set me on my way this morning. My 8am start turned out as usual to be a 9am start, after packing, chatting and eating !
I was looking forward to seeing Bergerac for some reason ? It was easy cycling for the first half of the day, flat and scenic. Chris had given me directions to a canal tow path which I could join at the end of the Couze valley, I found it and trundled along it for some miles before returning to the main road to Bergerac. On my aproach to the town the heavens opened ! It was pooring and I got drenched, so the town I'd been looking forward to wasn't quite as welcoming as I'd hoped. I did however park up on the bridge right over the Dordogne, a massive river and mile stone of the big cycle ride.
After a brief look around the old town I headed on north, following miles of dead straight roads with driving rain and a nasty head wind, then turned right and up into more hills with more views and more vines and more ruins .... It's SO French around here !
I've now logged onto the computer at the Domaine de Beauregard, an organic vin yard owned and run by Robin and Sasha who have kindly let me use their caravan for the night .... zzzzzzzz

A massive thanks to Joby for your kind donation ! That's fantastic, cheers ! Give that Toots and Sham a nudge will you !? Thanks too to Sarah for not only being the first person to sponsor me but also the first to sponsor me twice !! It really lifts my spirits when I get a donation, especially after hours and hours of rain and wind and the knowledge that I'm not even half way yet !
Thank you so much for all your emails and support ! Please keep giving and watching my progress... Jus.