Camping Le Moulinas, Chateauneuf-du-Rhone

During the night the thunderstorms could be heard rolling around the mountains. At seven-thirty this morning one arrived right over the campsite. Great. We packed up as much as we could inside the tent whilst outside the young tough German girls 'just got on with it'. Eventually the weather settled and we venture outside, made coffee and finished packing. Angela hadn't had a good night, more of her body ached, particularly the thumb on her left hand (not the one she'd had x-rayed) which was like nagging toothache. She wouldn't be held back though. And so our cycling day began, the threatening rain clouds never far away.

First stop the next town to sort out Angela's prescription from the hospital. No thank you she didn't want the codeine. Pressure bandages, dressings and, oh no not iodine! Just a small, but expensive bottle. Her pharmacy bill 49 euros. Paperwork for saga insurance please. God knows how much Angela had racked up yesterday. Ambulances, hospitals and doctors. Leaving town the weather closed in. We stopped to put on our rain jackets, and then the sky emptied. The nearby tree we sheltered under couldn't save us. We were well and truly soaked. People have said, we are on an adventure, more like a test of endurance. When you're cycling there is no choice. You just have to get on with it.

The weather improved and we carried on enjoying the scenery, but for Angela not the wobbly suspension bridge just before Montelimar.

She was tired, we cycled around thirty miles and her body ached. Hallucinating, or so she thought, she saw a man cycling towards her in natural coloured lycra. Or so she thought. Did that man have a saucisson hanging over the front of his saddle? John confirmed, yes the man was cycling totally naked! As you do. Eventually we reached a campsite. Natural camping on the farm. We were greeted warmly, charged a mere 12 euros, given an iced cold bottle of water. By now we'd cycled around thirty five miles. Angela was done in.

Camping Les Deux Rives, Charmes sur Rhone

Today should be a good day. Up as the sun rose only the annoying warblings of Amy Winehouse being piped around the sanitaires irritated Angela. She liked to spend the first fifteen minutes of her day peacefully, not being told by Amy she should have gone to rehab. It was just a half bottle of Bordeaux Amy!

A large Brocante market was taking place down by the river. No doubt the best buys already bought by the early treasure hunters. Probably on ebay or on resale in another Brocante by now. We felt fresh from taking a rest day. After the first two miles despite a headwind our legs dropped into a steady rhythm. We had around thirty miles to cycle, passing through the large town of Valence on the way.

The route took us through a market in Valence, the smell of roasting chickens wafted in the air. We stopped to look at and smell the food cooking on a Vietnamese stall. The cycle through the town was a nightmare and we were glad when we'd passed through it. And then it all went very badly wrong. John was cycling a little way ahead as he likes to take down hill sections as fast as he can, Angela more cautious these days took her time. A shout from behind in French that a cyclist was behind prompted Angela to move to the right as is correct. The French cyclists impatient overtook her on the wrong side. It didn't end well for Angela. Long story short, paramedics were called, a lady cyclists asked for a description of John so she could cycle on to fetch him back.

Serious injury to her left hand and face and an even more serious head injury resulted in her being loaded into the ambulance. Our worst nightmare! John was left with the sauf pompiers of which three vehicles had attended. Angela suggested he ask the group of gathered French to help him with translation. Which hospital and who would help with the bikes. He received no help with the bikes, and tried to wheel them off the cycleway to the other side of the bridge. A kindly Frenchman came to help him. As luck would have it an Amazon delivery driver had stopped for a smoke and the Frenchman asked for his assistance. Bikes and John loaded he took John to the hospital around ten minutes away. Angela was sure he'd enjoyed a more comfortable ride than her. She been drive at a fast rate, blue light and sirens. A French hospital is not like a British NHS one. It was stark. I.D. please. Remove rings off fingers because of swelling. X-ray on wrist. Wait will be around two hours. Well it was lunchtime. Eventually she was doused in stinging iodine, her forehead aneathesised and sutures begin before the anesthetic took. Then more iodine just to be sure she was in maximum pain. The doctor laughed, stunk of garlic and bumbled about. Angela's grasp of the French language does not stretch to medical talk, so she felt a little vulnerable. Issued with a prescription for pain relief and instructions that the stitches should be removed in ten days time she sat and waited to be discharged. The doctor was now fast asleep in his chair. She took it upon herself to leave. No the x-ray must be checked. Nothing broken, compression bandage prescribed. The bill would be posted to her home address. She presented her British medical card as instructed by saga insurance No the invoice would be sent from the medical office.

Another problem no doubt to deal with. John wanted them to take a train to Avignon, but Angela just wanted to cycle the ten miles to the next campsite. She was shaken by the accident and just felt she should ride her bike. Tonight's campsite is one of the worst ever. The sanitaires are clean but very dated. Saying that plenty of people arrived for the night. There are seven cyclists tents, motorhomes, vans and caravans. Hopefully tomorrow Angela won't ache too much. She looks like she's been in the wars, her face not too pretty. Perhaps she should have gone rehab today instead as Amy suggested!

Camping Le Rhone, Tournon sur Rhone (day 2)

The noise of four girls talking loudly on the balcony of one of the adjacent flats woke us and the German couple at 2 am. Thanks! What the other flat owners must have thought, who knows. The rude awakening prompted a need to visit the sanitaire. Upon our return a few drops of rain tapped on the tent. It was so warm we hoped there wouldn't be a storm. Just after six the Germans were up, even though it was still dark. Angela felt weary. We have been cycling for seventeen days now without a break. Heavy rain was forecast for the whole day, and the thought of cycling in it was too much. She just wasn't feeling it. So we decided to stay put and take a rest day. We have our own covered seating area next to the tent and there is another larger covered area by the reception. We'd be mad to move on. The weather forecast turned out to be incorrect.

The sun shone and we walked out over the pedestrian bridge to Tain-L'Hermitage where we bought fruit from one of the market stalls. The local table grapes were delicious, juicy and sweet. Back in Tournon-sur-Rhone we couldn't resist buying a small roast chicken and garlic potatoes roasted in the chicken fat that dripped from the rotisserie.

Cycling food folks. Anything goes. No slimfast going on here! For John a visit to France isn't complete without this delicacy. The roast chicken, not the slimfast! A walk on to the tourist office to pick up a map for our next stage of cycling, we stopped by at the church. Inside a beautiful stained glass window was lit by the sunlight. But the musty smell was unpleasant. We like to think our roast chicken and garlic potatoes left behind a pleasant aroma. The Viking cruise boat was still here awaiting new arrivals. As we walked by the next influx of excited passengers arrived, a fleet of coaches pulling up right beside the gang plank. The day passed quickly. The campsite once again full. We have washed clothes and generally pottered about. We have three new cycling neighbours, the two German ladies behind us are very friendly, the others not so. We are now only a few hundred miles from the Mediterranean.

(showing where we now are at Tournon)

The border of Italy, Spain and Germany not so far away. We must leave early tomorrow as the temperature will be 31c and have 30 - 35 miles to cycle. It is also Sunday, so Angela has had to cycle out to the supermarket on the edge of town for enough food to cover this evening, breakfast for two days, and tomorrow evenings meal which will be eggs, as it always seems to be on a Sunday. In charge of the shopping, she afforded herself a half bottle of Bordeaux. Cheers everyone.

Camping Le Rhone, Tournon sur Rhone

We were up at sunrise. High on the hill the orange street lights still glowed. The night has been warm and although we were tired and glad to be back in our tent our sleep was disturbed. As the light of the early morning sun crept across it lit the rows of grapevines that looked like neat green knitting. The other cyclists slowly emerged and the morning ritual of packing, tent drying and breakfasting began. One of the cyclists, a single lady who had seemed reluctant to speak to anyone yesterday spoke to John. She was American, living in Warminster, Wiltshire. She knew Andover where Angela was from and asked if we knew Whitchurch nearby. Small world. She'd flown out with her bicycle from Bristol to Geneva and was cycling to Toulouse to fly back to Bristol. All of us on journeys, all with different destinations.

The ride this morning had some uninteresting parts, passing lots of industry and power stations, though there were still some highlights. The path began to climb and at one point after slogging up a steep zig zagged incline we just had to dismount and walk. It was just too steep. Not for the lithe young things who flew by with minimal luggage. Obviously staying at a Airbnb's or chambre'dhotes with just some toiletries a change of clothes and a gstring onboard. It was once again hot, 27c, but we had a keen headwind which both annoyed us and cooled us. Dismissing the campsite recommended to us by the Dutch lady yesterday we pushed onto Tournon where luckily there was just one cycle camping space left.

The German couple from last night were already here. The town is lovely. We afforded ourselves time to walk out this evening.

A Viking river cruise boat was moored up, Angela keen to book on. Behind it a large barge advertising "bed & bike' at 149 euros per couple. 

We have cycled around thirty-five miles today. The site here is nice and unlike last night there are no signs saying 'please do not steal the toilet paper, it is for the use of everybody'. Leave out four rolls of luxury soft toilet rolls when there's cyclists around is a mistake. The temptation is just too much! There were only two left this morning.

Camping L'ile des Pecheurs, Condrieu

This morning the river was shrouded in a swirling mist. Trees of ochre, yellow and red signaled the start of autumn. We were glad to pack up and leave, two nights roughing it were enough. As we cycled away from the town the early morning sun dispersed the damp blanket that covered everything.

Reflections appeared on the river as the day awoke. Our tired legs knew the drill and pumped up and down turning the cranks that in turn spun the wheels. At the next large town a much needed coffee stop and purchase of filled baguettes for lunch. A decision was made that we would cycle no further and instead catch the train here, the station only half a mile away. Tickets booked online, with a change at Lyon we were on the next train. Lyon station was busy but we had nearly half an hour to change and found our platform easily. The train already waiting boarding would be easy and relaxed. Or so we presumed. No. A couple with huge electric bikes (resembling motorbikes) with a trailer and numerous pannier bags struggled to board the train. 'No more trains', said the wife. We were only going to the next stop ten minutes away so waited for them to sort themselves out and then wheeled on our bicycles leaving them by the exit doors. The ticket inspector looked on. Exasperated he left us all to it. Bikes are one thing, but trailers another. They are not allowed on trains normally. With the electric bike becoming so popular we wonder what the train operators have planned for the future to accommodate them. John's hoping they're be a ban.

We arrived at Vienne at lunchtime. A visit to the tourist office to collect the map for the Via Rhona cycle route before lunch. We are now in the Rhone-Alps region of France.

The scenery is stunning. It has taken us two weeks to cycle here and we feel like we've entered another country. Whilst waiting for the campsite to reopen after lunch we spoke with a dutch lady also waiting. The campsites in the area are closing this weekend so tomorrow we will need to make some plans. Tonight though we have the company of seven other cyclists. We presume they were all treated to the same officious welcome as we were. Standing line. Listen to this information. Enter the site by one gate, leave by another. Gate is locked at 8 pm. Communal tent with fridge and microwave not to be slept in if it rains. What? The Dutch lady stated if it rains I'm in there! Oh, and that'll be 27 euros for you two. No passport or I.D. needed. Why, it's the ruling here. John joked about cash in the pocket. Mistake, that upset the woman. We know how it works though from our time on the Atlantic coast earlier in the year. She's probably well worried now she's seen John photographing the entrance to the campsite. We are now in wine country. Grapevines are everywhere, even alongside the cycle path so forager John is in his element. Personally Angela prefers her grapes fermented and bottled;-)