June 2020 Day 2

LE VAUDIOUX TO LANGRES

OUR FIRST ADVENTURE JUNE 2020

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Day 2 Port Lensey - Pontailler Sur Soàne 53 km.

It sounds like rain pattering on the tent, but it’s seeds blowing down from the trees. I pick some lime leaves for a morning brew, but the flowers are over here, and the taste is weak. 

The forecast of high temperatures and blue skies has changed, and maybe that’s a good thing, more cloud cover is less sweaty, but it also increases our chances of getting wet. There is thunder in the direction we are travelling today, so we linger over breakfast, hoping the storm will finish its rumbling and rain before we leave. The plan works.
We pack up our camp and everything fits neatly in the bags and on the bikes.
It’s elevenish when we settle our butts into our saddles and set off. There are no muscle aches from yesterday, which is so cool. I have been working hard at building my muscles with interval training and I guess it has worked. 

About five minutes later as we start to climb a hill out of the valley Martin says, ‘Where are my gloves?’ His hands are bare. He shrugs. ‘Oh well.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘You need your gloves. You can leave your bags with me and return to the campsite for them. You must’ve left them by the sink.’

He turns his bike back towards me. ‘I don’t remember where I left them.’ There is a slight frown on his face. 

‘Check your pockets,’ I suggest, and he pulls out his gloves with a grin.

‘Where is my brain this morning?’ he asks.

‘Patchy sleep.’ I reply, but it could also be because he is thinking of the route he has planned for today. Me, I just bimble along, but Martin needs to be aware of where we are and when we need to turn and take a new road. It’s lucky he enjoys finding routes and making plans or we may go round in circles! 

‘I would’ve been miffed if I’d gone all the way back and then found them in my pocket, and you would’ve laughed, ‘ he says as we continue up the hill. He’s right I would’ve, but he would’ve too. The hill is not long and soon we have views around us again. The storm clouds are ahead of us, let’s hope It stays that way.

We are soon in the Foret de Chaux. A rolling track in the midst of green. It’s a huge forest, covering ??? square kilometres. It is warm and a little humid. 

We keep an eye on the storm and talk of options if a downpour comes our way, a quick setting up of the tent, or even quicker just the outer part of the tent like a bivouac. The ideas are fun, and somehow appealing. There are a few drops of rain to cool us, but no storm. 

We leave the forest and bump down a rough track, my legs either side like stabilisers on the rough terrain until it levels and I can ride without wondering if the next rut or large stone will tip me over. I don’t want to damage my bike. It has nothing to do with the feeling of no control on the rough ground!

When we leave the forest the view opens up to fields and valleys, gentle rolling hills and no black clouds.

There are some beautiful Comtoise horses waiting for their picture to be taken, I oblige. We are not horse people but can appreciate the beauty and strength of this breed, their ancestors hauled the cut logs from the forest and even across frozen lakes in the winter.  

There is rain falling in the distance, where we are headed for lunch, but by the time we arrive in Orchamps there are only a few drops in the air. We park under some old willow trees next to the river, set up our camping chairs and then both exclaim as they sink into the soft soil and almost tip us out. 

After lunch and skipping a few stones across the water we set off, still travelling north. We are relaxed and happy even though the warm-up for our legs is up a hill, again. But it’s not long and we are soon cycling along a quiet road through fields and forest and very little people. Ha. Not little people but few and far between! 

Taking a short break need a quick read check out Lunch is too short for long stories. 

Vol 2 is packed with engaging stories. Sixty short stories transport you from steampunk cities to Aztec treasure, from scientific discoveries to new inventions, from a child’ painful logic to a dragon’s wisdom.Expect the unexpected, these tales are entertaining to the very last word.

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We pass a gnome sanctuary – maybe there are little people after all -and a chateau then stop for a cup of tea. Dragging the chairs from the bags again we realise something needs to change for the next tour.

Maybe a table would be good too? We discuss different types of tables until Martin says, ‘Pallet tables are nice.’

We laugh, imagining cycling with a pallet table on the back of the bike. The sun decides to come out from behind the clouds as we cycle on and it is very humid. By the time we reach the our campsite next to the town of Pontailler-sur-Saône it is blue skies and sunshine.
Martin turns his bike so the gopro can do at time lapse of us setting up camp. Ha, I am conscious of the camera and try to only show my best side! The trouble with lycra is that it shows every saggy part, so I give up and get on with the job. It takes up twenty-three minutes to set up everything. Pretty slick team.

I am feeling a tad weary, but also hot so we set off to see the river. It has a beach and the water is cool. I walk straight in and under. Bliss. Ahh I do love swimming, but am aware we are doing 75 km tomorrow so only swim for a little while. We buy an ice-cream and enjoy the sweetness. 


After a shower all I want to do is lie down. That would be a bad idea, so I whatsapp with family, write in my notebook and enjoy being still. We do not have a stressful life at home, but we are definitely relaxing more. This is a great tester tour. But we’re hungry again so out comes the super cooker. We try the rice and three lentils with seasoning, carrots and I have some tinned fish while Martin eats sausage sticks. It’s devine. 

After washing up we sit quietly, I am reading on my kindle, book eight in The Expanse series, such brilliant writing like eating a rich triple layered chocolate cake. Martin is listening to a podcast when he nudges my arm.




‘There’s a woodpecker or something,’ Martin whispers, and I look but the trees are in the way.


 ‘Oh its gone,’ he says.


Two minutes later it’s back and we watch this strange little bird that is not a woodpecker eating something out of the grass.


‘It’s a Hoopoe,’ I say, and Martin is mightily impressed when we look it up and I’m right. How nice I can still impress my husband after all these years together. Mind you he impresses me every day with his organisation and planning and ideas. I smile. 


We snuggle into the tent early as something has taken a liking to our skin. The tent is roomy enough for us to play a few rounds of Tantrix, a colourful clever game. Soon we are snuggling into our sleeping bags and closing our eyes. The frogs are serenading us again and tiny ants cover the outside of the tent. We can see their little feet scurrying over the top. They can’t get in. I hear laughter in the distance as my eyes close, a delightful sound, and sleep is easier. Day 3
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