Yesterday morning I set off on a route inland, east along la Loire. The Eurovelo 6. The French section is full of majestic castles and beautiful vineyards, so I’ve heard. But, about 10 miles along the route, I could feel my bike slowing, knowing that I’d turned away from the sea and the road to the south, I could feel it pulling me back like a magnet. So I eventually turned my bike around, retraced my steps back to Nantes, and carried on through. I guess the story of those castles can wait for another adventure! I made it far enough to see the sun set over the Saint Nazaire bridge.
Last year, on the day I met Joannis, we took the bridge at night. At 3,356m long, crossing the mouth of la Loire, its the biggest bridge I’ve ever taken by bike, quite an intense ordeal! This time, I crossed the river in Nantes, so arrived at the bridge on the south side, just in time for some perfect views of the sun dipping behind it.
Strange then after that point, I was on roads familiar to me, for the first time retracing a route from last year. But without Joannis. It feels quite odd that he’s not here, like in my mind this is a place he just always exists in, and I found myself looking at every road-worn looking cyclist that went past to see if it’s him.
Yesterday turned out to be a milestone for me. The furthest I’ve ever cycled in a day, over 70 miles. I know it’s not a huge distance by some standards but it’s the most I’ve ever done and I feel pretty pleased with myself. I ended up riding until about midnight, until eventually I found the cycle path blocked. By a metal fence surrounding a camping field. Yes, someone has placed a festival right on the Eurovelo 1. At that time of night I couldn’t be bothered to turn around and navigate around it, so I pitched up just outside the fences. Turns out it was an electronic festival, and I got to experience the sounds of happy hardcore pumping through the night air until maybe 3am. Not that it kept me awake, I can sleep through most things. Although the torches of the security guards shining intermittently onto my tent woke me a few times. Wonder what they must have thought.
Today I have found Pornic. It’s a beautiful harbour town on the Atlantic coast, and very dangerous to progress on a tour! After spending some time being a tourist and wandering the pretty shops, sitting on the harbour wall admiring the boats whilst eating churros (I got served what feels like a kilo bag of them so that’s all meals for today sorted 😋), and watching the world go by, I’ve headed out of Pornic, and straight for the beach. Today feels like a lazy day. After cycling 240 miles since Tuesday morning, I feel like I’ve earned a sit down!
P.S. Still no sign of Rappel. That place never seems to get any closer.
Heimlich, and other adventures 