In which Sid and Doris have a ride along the Garonne and its lateral canal.
Today is the Feast of the Assumption, when virgin Mary was told she was to be mother of Jesus. This is a Bank Holiday in France, and in common with Bank Holidays everywhere associated with poor weather. In fact today has been perfect for us: N.A.R with some sun.
In deference to Jours Feries shop closing we got our rations early. While Doris was shopping Sid snapped the covered market at Montauban, a lovely building now used Wednesday mornings only. The first few miles were into the wind that prevails, and very dull it was too on long straight roads in flat country.
Fortunately we saw this shop and so could cycle along singing “Ere wiggo ‘ere wiggo ‘ere wiggo”.
Morale picked up when we swapped roads for tarmac tow path and the canal that joins the Atlantic and Mediterranean. We paused at Castelsarrasin with its basin of pleasure boats and sculpture in memory of Jacques Yves Cousteau, whose diving films Sid loved as a child.
At Moissac our canal crossed the Garonne at this elegant aqueduct.
This is properly agricultural country here, and there is little squeamishness about food. Here is a picture of a local abattoir. In the UK small abattoirs are closing and animals have to go further. France is more dirigiste, and farmers hold more sway.
Along the canal we meet dozens of cyclists. Some are on one day outings. Many are carrying outlandish amounts of luggage and must be on camping trips with plate racks, inflatable beds, nightstands, portable privies and boxes of spare pith helmets. We muse briefly on the possibility of playing a version of “My aunt went cycling in Bordeaux and with her she took…” but cycle touring is not the ideal venue for our favourite long-distance memory game, there is too much short-term excitement. We have not seen such loads since Melk, Austria where at least the tarmac was carefully ironed. Such is not the case under the plane trees in Tarn et Garonne where the roots give rise to a special song of bouncing bums [based on the tune of “A bushel and a peck” from Guys and Dolls – D].
Today we will cycle about 85 k with not much climb. It is warm and not hot. We have not drunk pints and we have eaten not much more than we would on a quiet day at home. Hot weather has probably been more of a limiting factor than we realised. Before we set off Doris had imagined that we would graduate to 120km days, and maybe we would have had it not been for the heat. Now that we are holiday riding we are not really looking for the opportunity to test the theory.
We buzz past Agen, which we know only for its plums and prunes. For fans of the Liwa date festival, or Hail camel beauty contest and other very slight excitements you should know Agen will be holding the Pruneau Show on August 30th, by which time we will be far to the north. See www.grandpruneaushow.fr , oh yes. And time to sing the Angus Prune song, and anything else you can remember about prunes. (No Mifter Bat, not that, please.)
Soon there is another viaduct, where all cyclists are required to get off and push – alas almost certainly #bestviewedfrombelow but we are on top of it now so please mentally add some arches and general amazingness to this picture.
Then we are not far from Serignac and The Prince Noir. We have swum in their pool. The vasts have been washed. We are sitting in a shady garden with Blog Central running. Busy Busy.