I was a little pensive leaving St Albans, it had been six weeks since Id been on the bike, the roads had been atrocious but it was around five degrees and I decided I could contend with the rain. I said good bye to Jean & Dominique and headed off around 1pm. The going was good to begin with, the rain wasn’t that bad though it was cold and I was glad Id elected to wear both my string vest and thermal layer. For those of you now howling with laughter at the string vest, its from Brynje a Finnish company and if you are ever heading somewhere cold to do sport, buy one, the leggings are also brilliant.

Jean is a vet and has himself wandered around the planet quite extensively he also speaks excellent English, which meant our conversations were a bit more fluid, I was a little sad to leave but my departure was long overdue.
My bike had been outside under cover the whole time and as I departed I encountered a sleeping policeman realised that the brake compound wasn’t providing any friction and so I flew over the sleeping policeman. Sadly when I arrived in Nasbinals that night I realised that the bump at speed had damaged my already damaged screen. Though the screen has apparently “healed” most of the previous damage, I’m not certain how this most recent damage will fair.
Heading on I turned a corner while crossing a bridge and was met by this fabulous scene, the picture does not really do it justice.



I was happy to see that the pass I would cross tomorrow was open as it had been closed for a couple of days last week.

But this was the last bit of pleasure I was to experience until I spent an hour in the shower defrosting my feet, I really need better cold weather socks.
I didn’t stop after the photograph below, had it not been blowing a gale and my fingers not frozen to the handlebars I would have tried to capture the scene that was unfolding.
Rolling deftly over the moor coming from the direction in which I was heading was the most ominous weather. It marching unerringly towards me, me foolishly making best speed towards it, I still had a good 20km to go till Nasbinals and my concern was growing. I know the picture really does not look like much, but my horizon was slowly and indefatigably being consumed by the weather and it was cold. For those of you reading this familiar with Rannoch Mór, consider cycling across it in winter in a blizzard then you will have an idea.
This last section between Malbouzon and Nasbinals is rather bleak. The teeth of the storm were literally biting at my heels and the light was gone and I hadn’t seen a car in an hour.
Can I tell you my relief at seeing that first light of Nasbinals, yes. Can I convey that feeling, I doubt it.
Finding the Gite was easy, there was an extended family staying for Christmas a couple of other people who I saw once and another Pilgrim Antony, on foot who is a bit of a character.
The atmosphere in the Gite was good, with children everywhere running amok, so I chose a room at the far end of the Gite, fully intent on sleeping.
After spending quite some time in the shower slowly getting warm again, I headed to the common room for a warm drink and there I met Antony who was delighted to find someone to speak German with, he was very excited about showing me his Credencial stamp collection from each Gite/ Refugio. Luckily I had planned to eat at the restaurant, so I had an excuse to escape.
I had the best dinner or my first real French meal since arriving, it was simply fabulous. I supposed it helped that the waitress was wearing a skirt short enough to flash her stocking tops each time she leaned over a table, so as you might guess I had an excellent appetite.
I started with a typically French salad, which consisted of half a lettuce covered in grilled bits of some animal or collection of animals internal organs, superb. Then I had duck which was indescribably good, there was at most a millimeter of cooked flesh around the edges, to accompany this I ordered Aligot, I had no idea what Aligot was and decided to add a surprise to my meal.
I have since heard people rave about this stuff, now I was going to cycle past the town from where it originates the next day, so I’m certain I ate pretty good Aligot. How people can rave about it I don’t know.It has a very unpleasant elasticity and once you manage to wrestle it off the two spoons they give you to serve, it plummets like a very heavy thing to the bottom of your stomach.
It is unquestionably tasty but I never ever never need to eat it again.
I had just survived my brush with Aligot, which I would thoroughly recommend in emergency if you ever develop a hole in your petrol tank, radiator or house plumbing. Anyway, I was just finishing the course when Antony turned up.
I convinced him to order the duck and we had a most agreeable time over the rest of dinner.
He left Switzerland where he lives in a caravan, without much money after what Ill describe as “some trouble” and is making his way to Santiago with all the assistance he can engender. He has developed a wide eyed innocent look that has gotten him through France in a most agreeable fashion, with little old ladies regularly taking him home for a good feed.
I am amused and delighted by his modis as reading between the lines, I would say the Swiss are not that happy having him around. He is quite straightforward and well intentioned but may not be on anyone’s list of ideal neighbours, especially not in Switzerland.
Yet here in France and in Spain he has been welcomed and I suspect that it has been doing him a lot of good and contributing to the wide eyed look. I continue to be amazed at the many ways people get what they need from travelling this route.
Anyway, we finished dinner, Antony relaxed a little and told ever more honest renditions of his story and eventually we headed back to the Gite. My room distant from the rest unfortunately had a blue bottle infestation and after killing the 20th I decided to spray some insect spray in the light fitting that they seemed to be coming from. Unfortunately I sprayed too much around the fire alarm sensor and set off the fire alarm, which provided half an hours entertainment until it eventually switched itself off , thankfully without a visit from the Pompiers.
PS. I didn’t mention it was me who set off the Alarm, what’s French for Alarm anyway?