Thursday, 22 July 2010

Day 8 - Agen to Toulouse

Had a bad nights sleep with the wild boar grunting in the tent after tasting a unmarked bottle of red from the camp site owner, video to follow! woke up to the sound of heavy rain which stayed with us till lunch time. Met this bloke in picture from the local police who asked Mike for his papers!

Mike was in good form today, but thinking about his cousin Mark, who died suddenly in Liverpool last week and whose funeral takes place today. He took over the map reading duties and didn't get lost once, mind you we were on the canal all day. Did the usual med men racing on the canal, first to the bridge, lock, deer, etc. We all have our own strategies. Mike favours the longer sustained burn, James the quick sprint and Jeff getting a sneaky head start before declaring a race! Rules have been introduced to make sure the contest is legal only when called from behind and agreed by at least one of the others. We all received winning cake as prizes - provided by Mike after his failure to secure bread or a pain au raisin in Valance.

Three grand cafe au laits for three wet medmen at our morning stop in Valance. We are going to Toulouse today.

Good, if wet days riding today, which we weren't really expecting this far down. We entertain ourselves with songs, a bit of racing and banter. James takes the chance to act the innkeeper in a cafe section of a huge canalside street mock up, to be used in the towns carnival festivities next week. Video clip to follow....

We encountered this plastic wrapped lady on the Canal du Garonne aquaduct near Moissac.
James enjoyed throwing his last piece of fruitcake into the water at this point.. as an offering to
the ancient water gods. It must have worked as it stopped raining about two hours later.

James is pictured above, arriving on the outskirts of sunny Toulouse, where we fetched up at a budget hotel, desperate to dry some of our clothes, which were by now on the 'high' side. After we'd used up every available door top and rail in the tiny room, we left for dinner. The aroma which met our return was manly, damp and dire. James's gloves alone- which he'd not worn once, but had slowly festered in his pannier bag - were enough to make you gag.