What’s wrong with us?
We just can’t do it without getting nancy!
Trying to stay put and chill out doing nothing. It’s not so much that we get bored (yes it is) or more the fact that we love getting out onto the landscape whether biking or hiking (yes it is), or both (yes it is).
Both waking up and having the same emotional pull to just want to keep going. Even after we had decided to call it and not visit Dorian’s part of the country and be entertained some before making our way off the continent towards the UK. Just goes to show we are addicts after all. To follow our hearts and passion. Or does that make us human?
Bugger it, might as well keep journalling too. After announcing yesterdays blog writing climax finale, look as it being similar to a live stage performance oncore until the curtain does come down. In our case, the riding has really really stopped.
We knew we had until the Oct 12 to change borders to fulful our Schengen Visa obligations so decided a visit to the Tourist Information Centre was warranted to help us with our habit. Go north over the Saint Nazaire bridge and tiki tour that coast line or, go south and tiki tour its coast line.
And we weren’t dissappointed. The assistant just kept bringing our maps. I love maps. Another half a kilograms worth of maps to add to the collection I now carry. Whether this way or that way, they were colourful and descriptive and the print smelt wonderful.
After scrolling map legends and calculating distances and checking that our manky bike clothes were both drying and airing and where would be a good destination to catch public transport, we agreed La Rochelle to the south was doable.
Perhaps the main thrust is our “do what you love and love what you do” and hence lets keep biking to make the most of what we are doing and explore more of the landscape we had arrived at. The feeling became stronger as we wandered Saint-Brevin-Les-Pins to arrive at the beach and be absolutely blown away with how far out the tide had receded.
There were dots of people way off at the waters edge and an old fella who crossed our path was carrying a basket full of shell fish. We just had to understand what they were and endeavoured to ask him using charades. He placed the basket on the ground, took a switchblade knife from his pocket and with his other hand, wiggled the blade into the closed shell to force it open. It exposed the shell fish, like a cockle back home. Another scrape of the blade and it dettached and he put it in his mouth, did three chews and swallowed. He handed me the knife and I followed his process twice. One for me and one for BClaire. Not bad at all.
By now, a little group had formed and when they found out we were from New Zealand, charades were in play with holding a rugby ball and what ever was spoken just nodded to. We did make a comment after departing with appreciation that seeing what we have coming out of the Loire and how the sea was a dirty stain when we arrived at Saint Brevins, was eating shell fish the right thing to do? A coca cola drink was bought and gulped shortly after.
The skeletal sea serpeant sculpture was also high and dry and looked impressive. Whether from above looking down on it or looking out from within it. A Chinese artist is credited for it and has been a photographed landscape feature since it was positioned during 2012. We did see some of it’s back bone above the waves yestereday when we rounded the bend after having gone as far west as we could, our attention was more tuned into the mass of water of the Atlantic itself.
And then when the accommodation we had booked for tomorrow night emailed that it was being cancelled, it sent us into a little panic not having experienced that before. Their cock up versus ours so it was all hands to the keyboard to find somewhere else to rest our heads. Pleeeeaaaaasssssseeeeee not the tent! We wanted it to be brand new still when we return home!
We’ve booked most of our accommodation through Booking.com and have been happy with our lodings todate. Luckily we found another still within Saint-Brevins heading south.
We believe there is a mental transition from having finished the cycling to then begin cycling again and the five or so kilometres would get us back in the frame of mind, body and arse hole gentleness so it gets on board. Again. The bike seat that is.
Until La Rochelle, those following addicts read at your own will.