A great day's riding, almost entirely along the Canal de Garonne; set a good pace from early morning and were well over 50km by lunchtime - today the cuckoo didn't finally call :-(
Has the fisherman gene yet been determined? I feel a thesis coming on; sour faced, lip muscle failure and, unlike Monsieur Marche de Langon, justifiably solitary in their passion, having mysteriously hooked up with an otherwise sound minded woman.
Calling ahead today left us with a blank on the camping front so, we took a small detour into Agen for a tourism and cafe stop. The tourist office appeared to come up trumps with certainty that, if we had our own tent (?) we could camp at a Base Nautic on the canal (managed by a friend of hers but currently closed for wider service provision). We found the spot ok but, out of season it was basically a patch of grass next to a residential play area, with an adjacent composting loo - by now we had no other plan . . .
. . . as the cyclists and joggers passed by we discretely cooked and later pitched the tent.
Our humble meal was superiorly supported by a fine bottle of Gevrey-Chambertain in memory on this day of Jane's dad; his death a year ago today was in part the catalyst for this whole adventure . . . to David.