Saturday 19th June
Carolles to Coutances
For the first time in nine and a half months we left our bikes outside but it was OK, the stars were out in force and the evening was quite warm.
However by 4am all that had changed and all we could think of was that our saddles which act as sponges in times of inclement weather were uncovered and I had left my waterproof yellow coat across my handlebars as well.
At breakfast we were ourselves, 2 Germans and 2 Swedes – we think , as we couldn’t understand anything they said and she was very blond, so conversation didn’t really flow! I have been unable to find a book in English for the past few weeks so am improving my French by reading Barbara Cartland- most helpful and not too testing as I even think I have read this one before. However, making conversation about the ‘flowing golden locks and azure blue eyes’ and such like really isn’t an option at this time of day!
The first thing we did was stop to have a look at the Plage in Carolles, famous for it’s miles of white sand. Unfortunately today it is blowing a hooley and the temperature is down to about 12 so no one but the hardiest joggers was about.
Not exactly a day for sitting on the beach!
From there we gingerly made our way into Granville for the road system is now becoming quite busy. It is a quaint old town with a definite seaside holiday feel to it.
Looking up toward Granville
My sister lives near Sherborne
I wonder if she knows about this!
It is also noticeably not the home of masses of hotels as we’d expected so lucky we didn’t make it this far last night. Arriving in the old part of town by the yacht harbour we warmed ourselves up with a coffee before heading out into the wind again. Vivi was so foundered with cold that she had to unpack her panniers and dig out her long cycling trousers, socks, gloves and an extra fleece. Which she duly put on standing on the side of the road. After 9 months in a semi nomadic state the girl has lost all of her inhibitions!!
Fortunately we had booked ourselves into somewhere for tonight so there wasn’t the same pressure to keep going and find some accommodation. Nevertheless we did want to keep going just so that we could collapse at the end of it all in Coutances where the bike route begins.
Coutances, nasty hill going out the other side.
Carolles to Coutances
For the first time in nine and a half months we left our bikes outside but it was OK, the stars were out in force and the evening was quite warm.
However by 4am all that had changed and all we could think of was that our saddles which act as sponges in times of inclement weather were uncovered and I had left my waterproof yellow coat across my handlebars as well.
At breakfast we were ourselves, 2 Germans and 2 Swedes – we think , as we couldn’t understand anything they said and she was very blond, so conversation didn’t really flow! I have been unable to find a book in English for the past few weeks so am improving my French by reading Barbara Cartland- most helpful and not too testing as I even think I have read this one before. However, making conversation about the ‘flowing golden locks and azure blue eyes’ and such like really isn’t an option at this time of day!
The first thing we did was stop to have a look at the Plage in Carolles, famous for it’s miles of white sand. Unfortunately today it is blowing a hooley and the temperature is down to about 12 so no one but the hardiest joggers was about.
Not exactly a day for sitting on the beach!
From there we gingerly made our way into Granville for the road system is now becoming quite busy. It is a quaint old town with a definite seaside holiday feel to it.
Looking up toward Granville
My sister lives near Sherborne
I wonder if she knows about this!
It is also noticeably not the home of masses of hotels as we’d expected so lucky we didn’t make it this far last night. Arriving in the old part of town by the yacht harbour we warmed ourselves up with a coffee before heading out into the wind again. Vivi was so foundered with cold that she had to unpack her panniers and dig out her long cycling trousers, socks, gloves and an extra fleece. Which she duly put on standing on the side of the road. After 9 months in a semi nomadic state the girl has lost all of her inhibitions!!
Fortunately we had booked ourselves into somewhere for tonight so there wasn’t the same pressure to keep going and find some accommodation. Nevertheless we did want to keep going just so that we could collapse at the end of it all in Coutances where the bike route begins.
Coutances, nasty hill going out the other side.
We spent some time weaving our way through these tiny lanes which are terribly pretty and are very similar to Jersey, on a slightly larger scale. It is real horse country with lots of rather fine boned types around. We don’t think they are for the plate.
We are booked into the ‘Cositel’ Coutance which turned out to be just what it said and was extremely agreeable. Beside it were the town’s sports fields and there seemed to be a marathon rugby and football session taking place which ended at about 8 and promptly went into (another)’ all nighter ‘ with a band but this time they were further away and the sound of revelry was not quite so intrusive.
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