We only saw the group of olds for a split second.

As they cycled passed our hotel front door whilst we were eating breakfast. Left to right! They didn’t see us. We were another hour by the time we headed off so the chances of us catching them was minimal. And we didn’t.

We navigated a different route back down to the Chateau de Sully-sur-Loire, the intent to take another crisper photo with the phone and fingers crossed camera, hoping that I’d resolved my grainy debacle. A pathway alongside the moat had a barrier gate similar to how you separate stock in a farm yard, that we’d never seen it’s type before. Managed to get the bike fully kitted and me into it. But not out the other side. BClaire standing there pissing herself laughing didn’t help. Any closer to the moat and she would have tumbled into the thing. After carefully reversing out, BClaire just walked her bike through the side of the thing without pannier width issue. WTF was I thinking?!

Keeping the bikes upright, we had to walk the bikes over a wobbly floating pontoon bridge to be on mother earth proper in front of the Chateau. Then bugger me, with all the emotion exhausted on the camera setting situation, I forgot to charge the camera battery. It’s battery icon flashed red in the top right hand corner of the screen when I turned it on. Oh well, the phone camera was it for most of the day.

The first movie using the mobile was on a caged like covered bridge crossing over the Loire. The river from bank to bank is quite wide and the water flow is extremely low. Large patches of green stained riverbed are blotched prominently everywhere from where algae has been left high and dry to parch in the sun.

The Loire Festival is held every two years in the old port of Orleans, our destination for today. It brings together hundreds of thousands of visitors, more than 200 boats, 700 sailors and 500 artists. And explained the little boat craft beating the same direction as us on the actual Loire, picking the deeper parts of the flow so as not to run aground.

After arriving into Orleans early afternoon, we crossed back over onto the city side and rode through all the preparation being constructed for the festival. Tents erected, electrical cables everywhere to charge the fridges being filled with bottles of booze and all the different cooking food equipment. We couldn’t go this way, or that way being directed by Security however, successfully ended up at the Cathedrale Sainte-Croix d’Orleans, a gothic cathedral.

Another huge feature looking up, we took turns standing with the bikes to go in and have a squiz. Again, magnificent like the ones before. We were sitting out front people watching when the two cyclists that we’d passed and then they passed us happened to come our way. They stopped and we started chatting. Maggy and Hanna were from Germany and like us, cycling to the coast. Maggy had lived in New Zealand (I think it was back in 2017) and just raved about our country. “New Zealand has a piece of every place in Europe and I so miss the feijoa’s.” Made me homesick as they must be cropping about now back home and I’m missing their succulent sweetness. Not BClaire though, hates the things! Another invite extended so we may end up with them on our doorstep in the future.

We also found the actual city centre. Orleans is classified as a World Heritage Site and was an important river trade port. Perhaps explains the historical festival purpose. A statue of Joan of Arc is erected smack bang in the middle. It was during a battle on 8 May 1429 which allowed Joan of Arc to enter and lift the siege of the Plantagenets during the Hundred Years’ War (Wikipedia). 3-Dimensional plaques beneath her erection of her holding a sword on top of a horse, tell the story. Some of the heads on the plaques were decapitated and headless. Obviously someone else had fun as executioner. One of Europe’s oldest universities created in 1306 resided I Orleans here, and explained the number of teenagers walking about the streets near the thing. Although tempting, we never took one out dodging them which at times was a chore.

We had to cross back over the Loire to where our accommodation was and used the Pont George V. The same type of boat craft we passed earlier in the day were roped up along the bank. We stood and watched one with a full sail using mother nature to navigate the shallow river towards us. Similar to Venice punting, two crew stood at the bow with poles pushing the nose towards the deeper parts. Everyone clapped when they got through the rapids without grounding or capsizing.

The place was buzzing and you could sense a party atmosphere in the making.
The forecast tomorrow is for fine weather, then two rough inclement ones. Do we stay or do we go?

Over thinking was an oxymoron dilemma, both the for and against were a split decision.

Sometimes changing a subject helps. I wonder if my photos that I did take on the camera today before it conked out worked?

Or not!