THURSDAY, 24th August 2006 – Bourges to Vincelles

The hills are alive, with the sound of diesels.

The showers only got a 5.5 from Annie, mainly because the water stayed on for too short a time with the push-button things they usually have. No cockroaches today. Time for water on was ok for me, but the temperature was very variable, and sometimes cold. Not good. Oh, and there were no signs saying which was hommes and which was femmes. I presumed it didn’t matter, but when I asked the woman mopping up some overflow, she pointed me in a specific direction, me being a bloke an’ all.

On the road just before nine, and quickly rumpety-bumpety rattle and shake over the town’s roads. After about half an hour, we saw, grey and imposing in the distance, some hills. Very exciting. Our road, and Catherine, took us towards them, because she knew we were quite excited to get out of the central France plain. Top site en route was part of the town of Auxerres, which wrapped itself around a tall lump of a hill like salt around a cone of chips. Only on the outside, if you see what I mean. Best analogy I could come up with. But a lovely site – shame about the city streets.

Speaking of which, I’ve come to a conclusion – once you get inside the town or village sign, the state of the roads becomes the responsibility of the town / village. That’s why they’re all rubbish, and as soon as you pass the “not in town any more” marker sign, the road smoothes out, where the federal government or the Departement take over responsibility once again. This is probably not earth-shattering news for anyone else, but it’s just occurred to me.

We got to Vincelles safely, and Catherine took us to the door again. She’s getting good at this. One thing that’s been a bit confusing, though. She uses different words which sound very similar in a noisy Peugeot cab. “Tournez a gauche” is quite straightforward, and we turn left. “Tenirez la route a gauche” means keep to the left, but sounds awfully like “Tournez” sometimes, unless you listen carefully. If you’re watching the road signs, and you know where you’re going, then what she says makes sense. But then, doesn’t that defeat the point of employing her? And she also sometimes says “Prenir la sortie”, which doesn’t sound like either of them when I say it now, but it has done. Honest.

We shopped a little at the small supermarket next door to the campsite, and we went off in search of a France Passion site nearby. Our mistake? Getting Catherine to look for it. She took us down this rumpety-bumpety-shake-rattle-BANG road, for about a kilometre and a half, at about 10 mph. Poor Polly. We eventually reached a main road, which we crossed, and went down a road like before, only smaller. And for longer. It was one of those situations when it surely must be quicker to carry on and get to the end rather than turn round and go back. Mustn’t it?

We got to a tiny wee village, and Catherine said we’d arrived, when obviously we hadn’t. What a fibber she is. Annie consulted the Passion book (huh?), and the only thing clear was that we’d come in from the wrong direction, and we couldn’t find the right way to come back from. If you see what I mean. We gave up, and went back to the campsite, and got a pitch. €15, thank you very much, and do you want bread in the morning?

After a lunch (lovely bread from the supermarket, by the way) including smoked salmon, Annie did a bit of washing, and I got the bikes down, so that we could a) go for a bike ride, and b) have somewhere to hang the washing from – that being the bike rack.

The Canal de Nivernois went right past the campsite’s door, and with it, a wide flat track for us to cycle on. So we cycled a few miles one way, past a few locks with some bored lock-keepers, until the track stopped. We turned round, and cycled back, and beyond the campsite. Sniffed around at an auberge for sale, but there was little passing trade from the canal, and almost none from the road.

The clouds came over, and it started to sprinkle with rain, so he hi-tailed it back to the campsite to rescue the washing, by which time it hadn’t actually started to rain, so we left it out. Lo and behold, it dried during the day.