Yesterday was heavy rain all day so I stayed in Tours and just cycled – well, aquaplaned mostly – round town, exploring the very decent bike infrastructure. This morning, with my new-found knowledge of the city’s layout, I splashed my way to the doctor to show off my impressive collection of insect bites, and colourfully allergic reactions thereto.
He decided I was in no danger of scurvy – I think that’s what he said, though perhaps ‘lime disease’ meant something else – and prescribed me various creams, sprays and ointments to accidentally stain my tent and groundsheet with over the coming days.
(Incidentally: it was a walk-in appointment at a private clinic, which cost €30 plus €7 at the pharmacy for the prescription. I walked in at 9am and got an appointment for 11am. It was all very efficient and quick. Especially the payment process. They were very keen on that.)
Medical matters attended to, I set off at noon east along the south bank of the Loire… and into the rainiest day of the trip so far.
Learners of English all seem to get taught the phrase ‘raining cats and dogs’ (a phrase I’ve never heard a native speaker actually say). Well, this was a whole zoo of precipitation: it was raining yak, zebras, hairy armadillos and tasselled wobbegongs.
In Montlouis I stopped briefly to talk to some equally drenched British cycle tourists going the other way. It wasn’t a quality encounter; we were all a bit wet and cross. It was like trying to be sociable while walking through a car wash.
I plugged on gamely. The rain clearly wasn’t letting up so there was no option. I half-cycled, half-crawled – and I mean the swimming stroke – through vineyards, over shallow hill tops, through torrential villages with nowhere to shelter. Even the bus shelters weren’t shelter.
Eventually, soaking wet, I got to the touristy village of Amboise and its quaint half-timbered streets. I warmed up with a coffee and cake in the friendly cafe under the clock tower. I also dripped enough water on their floor to sail a model boat, without actually managing to dry off at all.
I carried on cycling. Gradually the rain gave up and went off to look for trouble elsewhere, and the sun appeared. Flat riverside paths, some very good, went through quiet woods and gentle farm fields.
At Blois, I stopped to enjoy town’s fine waterfront from across the river, the stone buildings topped by a cathedral. As if in punishment, some black clouds chased me to the campsite a couple of miles beyond, but I had sun for the rest of the evening.
I seemed to be the only cyclist there amid dozens of campervans at this tail-end of the season. It was another quiet evening of noodles on the stove, riverbank walk, shower and early bed.
Miles today: 42
Miles since Saint-Nazaire: 240