This was the most tightly packed campsite ever. Every square inch had a tent, car, trailer or windsurf rig. Sleep wasn’t too bad, despite a live umpah band till late and a crying baby in the next tent – close enough to have been in our tent.

We packed up in the dry, but as soon as we turned the pedals the thunder rumbled and soon it was black as night and hammering down – and the rain was cold. The only good news was a superb dedicated cycle track, away from the roads. This wound up the valley between huge limestone cliffs, flat sections interspersed with narrow, steep bits through huge boulders to the next level up. There were alpine flowers even as low down as this.

After coffee, for no apparent reason, the bike track disappeared and we were on the road for a bit. At exactly noon we pulled up outside a village coop, needing food, to find the entrance door locked. It closed at 12 because, it turns out, today is some kind of national holiday. But, with some nifty footwork, we managed to sneak in through the exit and grab food supplies.

The bike track reappeared, and up we went – with the rain easing enough to get the camera out.

And then, suddenly, a little miracle. A sleek modern restaurant of steel and glass all on its own in the middle of nowhere, advertising fish and chips! It’s safe to say that we were the wettest of the clientele, but they let us in, and the puddle that we made wasn’t too big, honest! Warmth, great mountain views, and fish n chips. And whilst we were there, a text from Tim Scholes with greetings from the top of Mont Ventoux. Windy, apparently.

After lunch, back in the wet, cold, cycling clothes, camping did not look attractive, even though the rain was easing a bit. But there weren’t many hotels to choose from in this remote area, and they were full because of the holiday. Then our third stroke of luck for the day. A tiny roadside motel had a cheap room, and we are warm and dry again already. The sun even looks as though it might come out. Still hoping for better weather tomorrow.

Helen’s track of the day:
My Sad Captains by Elbow.

This choice has given me a lot of musing whilst cycling along this week. It is 5 years today since my Dad died and though I don’t go in for anniversaries much this one needed marking. I went for a general, melancholic, even elegiac quality and a very Northern sound from Mr Garvey and Co. Sad but not bitter. And with much love to Little Brother.