June 2020 Day 5

LE VAUDIOUX TO LANGRES

OUR FIRST ADVENTURE JUNE 2020

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Day 5 Langres - Montigny Mornay Villeneuve.

We wake up to the sound of rain, yep it hasn’t stopped and it’s still a little chilly.

We check the forecast and decide on the shorter ride of 40 kilometres today, leaving later when the rain stops. We turn over and go back to sleep until about 8.30 when our stomachs say it’s breakfast time. 

We listen to a podcast, play a game on the phone, try a quick crossword, but it’s too hard and definitely not quick. Why would anyone need to know the name of the island between Madagascar and Martinique? 

I play with a few drawing programs and wonder if I can find a simple, adult one for Martin’s Dad to try. One he can see to do. I find one for me and have a little play, but Martin is fidgety. Eager to get back on his bike. He’s not happy with the weather, but the rain is lighter now.

I can read, write, draw and sit quite comfortably on the floor but Martin not so much, and we left the seats outside and they are wet, so even though he could sit under the trees and be more comfortable, he can’t. I used to be a fidget, but as long as my mind is occupied, I’m happy to sit in the tent all morning. And I guess I’m a little weary too.

The sun is winning and there is an immediate heat wave in the tent! We venture outside and study the clouds. Looks okay so we deflate our beds and pack the sleeping bags away, only to be deflated ourselves as the patter of rain starts again.  
The third time we pack up the rain stays away, and we are excited when we see blue sky beyond the clouds. It’s time to make a run for it. We cycle down the country roads lined with trees like an avenue. The road curves ahead and descends slightly and it looks like a tree is in the middle. An optical illusion. A deer steps out from the woods, but before I can take a photo it has gone.

There are so many wild flowers at the side of the road and one is so pretty I have to stop. I’ll find out what it is when we get home.

The road continues down into a very quaint village of Cohons with its gardens, one formal and one a hanging garden, but having checked on line we know they are closed due to the dratted virus. Ho hum, another time. The village houses are stone and very picturesque and it is warmer between the buildings. We continue on our way. A few spots of rain alert us to a deluge passing behind. If we’d left the campsite later, we’d be soaked. 

We stop to buy lunch – two sausage rolls for Martin and a Tuna salad for me, and some tinned veg for tea, before a relaxed ride to a lake for lunch.

There are windsurfers, canoeists, a child paddling. This is a fun sporty man-made lake with one end dammed. We wonder if it is a feeder for the canal we are heading back to. It’s not too warm so we don’t linger.

The roads are empty as we meander to the canal, this time staying on the signposted route, no rough tracks or clouds of butterflies today, but the air is fresh, and the skylarks are singing. Such an old-fashioned sound, reminding me of Thomas Hardy stories and my origins in the UK.



We’re back on the canal and two very dark red squirrels leap from the path and into the trees. Our legs turn the wheels with little effort, and we talk about writing up this tour for the website and finding out more about this old canal.

I imagine a bakery barge, making special breads and cakes. Someone climbing off at the locks, filling a huge wicker basket on the front of their bicycle and cycling into the nearby villages, where people eagerly wait for their order to be delivered, freshly baked. A hairdresser barge with clients sitting on the deck enjoying the sunshine while they wait their turn. A barge full of autumn fruits destined for a water-powered juicing mill.


 A quieter, slower pace of life would be good for us all.

We cross a bridge over to the other side of the canal and a metal beast catches my eye, it is behind a hedge, so we hadn’t seen it coming the other way. 

‘Martin, stop.’ I investigate and find this.

The tag says YUKI. I smile. I love people’s creativity and am always inspired. My head buzzing with ideas for fun creations in our developing forest garden.

We continue along the track, it has grass growing along the centre, adding to its charm. It is easy to cycle along. There are a few fishermen and their families about today, but we don’t see anyone catch anything, except the sun. One man looks like a traffic light, his back is so red. I squirm at the thought of the pain he’ll be in later.

We stop to pick some cherries, staining our hands and lips and keeping some for later. 

I take a deep breath, there is a feeling of freedom and ease, and I could continue all day, but we are already at the next campsite Camping du Trou d'Argot. It is a circular field with an old mill run off along its edge, there are three red huts, one is occupied, and wait for it…huge old willow trees sweeping the grass with their hanging branches. 

We park the bikes and wander to a larger hut and a covered picnic area, but no-one is about. Martin sends a text and the owner says to set up, she’ll be along later. She sends us a code for the toilet and showers which are in one of the old mill buildings across a bridge.

We set up camp, old hands at this now, and take turns to use the showers. They are basic but warm and there are toilet rolls! We underestimated our toilet roll needs and had to buy some at the last campsite. 

The sun is out and the tent dries quickly, we hang our wet towels on a washing line that is intertwined with bind weed, and sit on our slightly damp seats. They are so comfortable, although I’m not a lean back in a seat kind of person, today that is not a problem. 



There will be no road noise tonight, but the frogs have already started to sing to us. We cook and eat tea on the picnic benches, the little café is not open on a Monday, so all is quiet. A family arrive and are disappointed the café is closed. They grin and shake their heads when Martin says



‘C’est Lundi.’



The owner comes by and we pay, it’s less than half of the price of the larger sites, so we will try and find small sites next time. It’s not that we can’t afford it, but the less we spend the more tours we can do. And we prefer the simpler spaces.

We wander through the village before snuggling in our sleeping bags. The constant rushing sound of water through the sluice gates lulls us to sleep. Day 6

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