This morning the first sign of autumn. A light mist danced amongst the trees on the campsite. Once the sun rose it soon dissipated, revealing the river cruise boats over on the far side of the river.
We didn't mind the weather, we would rather leave Avingon having seen it at its best. Angela nervous as hell, was cross with herself that she'd lost her confidence since her accident. She's cycled thousands of miles in France, and it's only been in the last year she's fallen off her bike. Her knee, still healing wasn't happy with the exercise, but we were only going a very short distance to the railway station. Arriving in good time, we sat in the garden by the church where we met a young American man riding a Jones LWB in titanium. He'd arrived a couple of days ago in France, sailing from Poole, wild camping near Wareham the night before. What were the chances of meeting someone from our home area. Being younger and more adventurous he was heading to the Alps, then the Italian Dolomites before cycling to Slovenia. As you do.
Our two hour train journey passed quickly. Just before Sete all eyes were on the lagoons to the right. There they were, hundreds of salmon pink flamingos. Angela felt quite emotional. Even though we've seen these fascinating birds before, Angela thought her chances of seeing them on this trip was unlikely a week ago. So here we now are in the south of France. It is hot, very hot. And we are finally at the Mediterranean!
We cycled out this evening to the nearby marina and people watched.
A welcome video call from home before we cycled back in the twilight. Just after nine, and we're sat out in shorts and t-shirts. This is the life. Just one problem. The campsites in the area close on Sunday. Tomorrow we must make plans. We may need to jump on a train and move to Narbonne or Toulouse. We've landed on our feet tonight though. On chairs lent to us from the restaurant we are sat in the light of the sanitaires opposite. Free light, no head torch needed. The Germans next to us seem a little shocked at our chosen seating area. Not half as shocked as we were when the man stripped off behind his VW transporter pop top campervan. Do all owners of pop tops behave like this we wondered?
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