Camping Tarterin, Tarascon

We'd become comfortable in our coco sweet cabin, but the time had come to move on. Angela felt very anxious, tears pricked the back of her eyes. She was cross with the French cyclist who'd run into her, and cross with herself for feeling nervous and that she could not ride her bike with confidence.

So we took it slowly, planning to cycle just twenty-five miles. Soon the route steered away from the river taking us through a flat open landscape of grapevines and olive trees. The earth dry and dusty, baked hard by the sun.  A sky of metallic blue hung overhead. We were glad the temperature was in the mid twenties, we were so exposed we would have fried otherwise. The repeating landscape soon became boring and we were pleased to arrive at Tarascon just after two.

The town was pretty, the campsite not so. But as we always say, it's just somewhere to erect our tent and take a shower. The pitches were uneven, the ground hard and stony. Hardly perfect.

Other cyclists began to arrive and soon it didn't feel so bad. Angela showered and changed the dressing on her knee. It did not look good. An infection was showing so we sought advice. The pharmacist in the town wanted Angela to attend a hospital. The nearest main one Avingon where we had just cycled from. 

Pizzas bought. Too large for us to finish so we shared them with the other cyclists, we went on to book a train back early in the morning. We were so close to the Mediterranean, our destination. Would we make it?

Camping Bagatelle, Avignon (Day 3)

A lie in. Unheard off when we're on a cycling trip. It was just before nine-thirty when we rose this morning. Angela had had a bad night. Despite much pain relief all her injuries really hurt, and as the previous night she couldn't halt her memory from reliving the accident. Today she felt wobbly, anxious, vulnerable, nervous about setting off again tomorrow. Worried she'd fall from her bicycle again. The physical injuries would heal, she hoped the mental ones would fade quickly.

Today we walked to the old city of Avignon. It is our view from the campsite and we wanted to see it up close.

The Papal Palace dominates the skyline. Narrow streets led us to courtyards, gardens and spectacular views across and down the Rhone river, towards the Alps and beyond.

We lunched in the shade of plane tree, John pleased with a fantastic hot meal of chicken, lemon and rice from the local Carrefour supermarket. Back to boring baguettes tomorrow. Across from the campsite the Pont Saint-Benezet has intrigued us. It used to span the river, but no more. Unlike us we paid to visit it, pleased to qualify for the concession. 

After many hours of exploring we headed back to our little cabin. Check out is at ten in the morning, and the cabin has to be cleaned by us. This evening though we returned to the little street food van outside the campsite alongside the river.

Ate vegetarian pizza and besides our own beverages were served complimentary mint tea made with fresh mint, and lots of sugar which made it taste delicious. The two Algerian guys who run the van were all smiles when we paid. On both occasions the food has been excellent, so we were happy to leave a tip. As last night ate neighbours are nearly all German. We were the only English but another vehicle has arrived a short while ago. Tomorrow we will leave Avignon with both sad and happy memories. Unfortunately John won't be leaving with a large carved wooden cicada which he claimed he'd find space for in one of his pannier bags or the ladies lingerie he'd seen in the window of very posh shop. It was totally unsuitable for cycling! Angela needs body armour the way she's going.

Camping Bagatelle, Avignon (day 2)

And breathe. The events of the last few days had been draining. This morning Angela took her first shower since her accident. Once again piped music filled the sanitaires. Disco this time. The cleaning staff singing songs as they worked. Angela could barely manoeuvre her towel over her body, let alone 'get down on it', as the words of the song suggested. Now we were safely settled in Avignon she had time to reflect. Upon her insistence we continued cycling. She didn't want the accident to make her frightened to cycle. The claims company acting for Saga insurance telephoned. Frederick, a very nice Frenchman wanted a copy of the hospital medical report and Angela's UK health card. He was appalled that they dismissed the fact she was in possession of the card and refused to look at it. Photos of her injuries were also sent. Not happy with the way she had been treated he was going to telephone the hospital. They would not fob him off, he spoke their language. The patched up and now push off attitude had made him furious. After advising Angela on what she must do when the time came for her stitches to be removed he promised to telephone again early next Tuesday afternoon to see how it was going. Twice he asked if we would like him to arrange transportation to return us to England. As lovely as our little cabin is this morning we found ourselves bumbling about. Our daily routine has gone to pot.

(John's Algerian street food) 

We wearily a walked across the bridge into town to buy lunch, then this afternoon sat in the cabin and read, dozing for a while, as the rain fell quite heavily at four for over an hour.

The inclement weather meant the street food truck opposite the campsite didn't open this evening, so once again we walked into town, bought frozen paella to cook which we enjoyed very much.

We have also booked to stay a third night, so will now continue cycling on Friday. Yesterday evening in Avignon had been both special and beautiful. What a difference a day makes. This evening still warm, but miserably wet. Mount Ventoux in the distance so clearly visible yesterday lost in the low cloud. Once again we don't envy the cyclists in their small tents.

Camping Bagatelle, Avignon

Angela had a better night. But her body was complaining. She ached, her left wrist and hand were very swollen and she was annoyed about the accident. It was decided we should cycle to the next town and catch a train to Avignon. But first after asking twice, a swiss couple in a motorhome insisted we allow them to make us coffee before we left. We talked with them a while and eventually didn't leave until after eleven. We made slow progress, Angela nervous, the shock of the accident starting to show.

At a viewpoint a Nepalese man and his friend asked if we would take a photograph of them with the stunning view in the background. That's one of the nice things about cycling, you never know who'll you're meet along the way. The train to Avignon left a few minutes before we reached the town.

But we didn't mind. We found a shady spot, ate lunch and rested.

The two hours wait passed quickly and whilst on the train we hoped we wouldn't be missing some great cycling. Forty minutes later, (two days cycling for us) we found ourselves right in the centre of the beautiful walled town of Avignon.

And now with the rain due to return for the next two days, we've secured ourselves a nice little 'Coco Sweet ' for two nights.

Rest and recuperation hopefully will settle Angela.

A walk out this evening, pizza with a beautiful view, and a good bottle of red was a good start. Across from us on the campsite are some cyclists. It feels a little strange not to be camped alongside them.