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A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.
Lao Tzu

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7

Briare

Briare was very nice and couldn't come too soon.  For my first day 99km was a bit too far and I'd spent the last 15km with the balls of my feet burning, very painful, and my inner thighs chafed.  However, I finally arrived, got the tent up, did my washing and all was well with the world.  I then cycled back into town for something to eat.

I'd met a few people at the campsite, a french guy doing quite a big ride, he was from Nantes and doing the Eurovelo 6.  He was carrying more luggage than you can imagine.  I'm not sure what a single camper takes to fill four panniers a back rack and a bar-bag when I manage to get by with two panniers and a small rack pack.  I'd passed him earlier since he was only doing about 8km/hr on the flat.

The other guy I met was a very nice mancunian. He was going to Le Puy and then somewhere yet to be decided from there.  We talked bikes, gearing, speeds and tarmac for a while before I went off in search of the chips and salt for which I had an urge.

8

Canals

Briare had a port type thing with boats moored by the side of what appeared to be a canal junction.  Lots of pretty boats and barges, bridges and weeping willow trees.  Unfortunately, the little café just next to this had no chips.  Luckily the person who's bar it was understood my cyclist's need for salt (it's the sweating you know) and gave me a freebee bowl of salty nibbles with what was my first demi-pêche of the holiday, which, by the way, is peach syrop in beer.  Sounds horrible but tastes great.

After the beer I moved on along the canal and found a brasserie and got my'self a table on the terrace in the dying ray's of the sun.  I was slightly worried since I'd told the mancunian guy I'd met about the first bar and vaguely arranged to see him; luckily he found me and had a beer while I ate steak frites with what my notes refer to as ppr (petit pichet de rosé) -a small carafe of rosé.