|Interesting cathedral at Souillac|
Carrying tent, sleeping bag, stove and bike kit doesn't leave much room for clothes. But the tent has survived a dramatic evening thunderstorm, keeping me dry. I have never been in a storm like it. Deafening thunder didn't stop rolling around the heavens in all directions for at least half an hour without a break.
So that first day I rode to Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne, had a look around, and soon set off the way I'd just come, but on the other side of the river. Unpacked the brand new tent at an empty municipal campground - just me, the two caretakers and hosts of mosquitoes that sent me off to bed early. Off to a very thin sleeping mat, anyway.
Oh, those bruises on my hips? Nothing that could keep me awake after a day of rolling along through the French countryside.
Not to mention an 8km ride the next morning before I passed the first cafe and boulanger. Did I mention the gorgeous landscapes, the sunshine, the birds, the scent of honeysuckle?