Where are We

Tody we are in the home of the Sainmont family of Orleon. They found us yesterday, hot and forlorn outside the closed gate of the city camping ground, befriended us and invited us back to their house where we put out tent up on their lawn and we had a shared meal with them on the patio of their house. Philippe and Clauda have five boys, two we met last night, one, Johan is planning a working trip to NZ later this year, so we hope to see him in Picton at our house.

The trip is fantastic, we only get sick of it when the weather is too hot and thunderstorms blow the tent down in th e middle of the night, otherwise people arejust so friendly, as you can see by the above.

Riding into Rochefort a couple of weeks ago, we were dreading having to join a very busy road going over one of those high arching, inverted D type bridges, surprised that we were getting so far on a very new cycle path when suddenly there appeared a small Asterix looking man pushing his bike towards us. Tiny with shoulder length grey hair, a canary green cycle shirt with Tour de France 2004 on the back, and very short, tight cycling pants, he approached us with hand outstretched, shook us each by the hand and commenced a conversation with Val. It appeared that the cycle way was not completed and we were the first to use it, he then offered to lead us to the bridge. On arrival at the bridge, we shook his hand and thanked him, but no, he was comin g over with us. On the other side we went through the same routine, but once again, he signalled us to follow him and he would show us the cycle path.

Well several armwaving confrontations with tooting motorists, then . sitting at the front of the traffic on roundabouts gesticulating to the cars behind as to where his entourage was headed, we went through the middle of town and out the other side. Fifteen kilometres later we were sitting in the bar of a small village pub shouting our friend Andre a beer. We had been personally introduced to everyone in th e bar and it transpired from Vals conversing in French with a "little" English, that Andre was President of the local Cycling Club and a well known identity. We were very impressed by this "big" little man.

Our direction has changed again, we leave the Loire valley today on a line drawn across the map of Europe to Cologne, on the Rhine, following all the small roads as close to that line as we can.