A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.
The road to Chateauneuf was just great: quite and lovely tarmac that meant I just flew and Chateauneuf was very, very pretty - with a nice looking Chambre d'hote on the outskirts of town, with a bridge and a river. I'd flashed through and was just climbing up a steep hill when I thought to just ask a pedestrian to confirm this was the road to Charlieu. Just as well I did because it wasn't, it seems I had just ridden, unnecessarily up a seriously steep hill. Piss. Still, the ride back down was fun.
I eventually got to Charlieu and found the campsite at the far end of town, I had a nice little plot, with spare plots nearby, in one of which I spent ages trying to hang my washing in a tree.
Dinner was fried egg, chips and frankfurters in the cafe at the campsite. Very tasty, though hardly very French.