Dampierre sur Loire (Day 2)

We both slept badly last night as the result of separate bad dreams. Some bloody cuckoo didn't cause them, did it? No Marge. Leave the cuckoo alone, their call is nice to wake up to. All that aside a clear bright day greeted us. It was going to be a hot one. Normal morning activity on the aire began. Vans experiencing television reception problems changed places. T.V. is such a serious business here. John observed a tree creeper for a while as it scuttled up a nearby tree looking for a tasty morsel.

Then he cooked up an omelette with the rest of the mushrooms he foraged at Saint- Aubin-des-Ormeaux. Having survived the last twenty four hours after cooking them yesterday morning they were obviously not harmful.

Late morning we cycled the few miles down to Turquant to the remains of the troglodyte dwellings built into the hillside of tufa stone.

We have been here a few times now and always find the empty homes interesting. At one time there were six hundred people living here in the damp cave dwellings.

 At Montsoreau we bought bread and brownies then sat by the river alongside other cyclists and walkers to eat lunch. The sun very warm by now, we moved to a shadier table after the walkers left. Across the river a squadron of swans maintained their neat line as they swam. 

The everchanging shadows cast across the river enhanced its beauty. Cycling further on we found a shady spot near some traditional Toue and Toue Cabanee boats to sit and read.

Some kayakers glided by, barely breaking the surface of the water. Our Dutch neighbour from the aire was there also with the same idea. After some time Angela decided to stretch her legs stumbling upon a tabac where she bought ice lollies. She thought today was possibly the best day she'd had this trip. It was late afternoon before we began our return cycle.

Stopping amongst some trees to look at some very unusual fungi called King Arthurs cakes. Tired, but relaxed after around twenty miles of cycling we did not welcome the attention of our drunk English neighbours. Open another bottle of rose why don't you. No wonder the English abroad have a bad name.

Tomorrow we will move on to another aire that was formerly a campsite near Laval. Hang on Laval, isn't that near Mayenne? Yes Marge. Isn't there a certain chateau there that Angela's fond of. Might be. It's just coincidence we're travelling back that way. Really!