May 18th eleventh stage

May 18^th eleventh stage  Josselin to Blain by Nantes Brest canal  112 kms.

A third day of 100 plus kilometres, so I am making up time. I left Josselin, which is a really lovely town, and its spectacular chateau, in cold drizzle but soon warmed up, despite the continued headwind , and was moving so quickly that at one point near Guillac I nearly had a serious accident. Rounding a bend at speed on the towpath I came upon at least half a dozen very serious female riders heading towards me also at a great speed and, moreover, taking up the whole path. Much shouting and gesticulating and we shot past each other. If there had been a crash my only consolation was that I was on the inside and it wouldn’t have been me in the river! I was still feeling good  going so well when my pride took a hammering.   Three ladies of a certain age, weighed down with camping paraphernalia, cruised past me in the opposite direction with ease and a cheerful bonjour. That put me with my support vehicle well in my place. I rationalized that the ladies were probably simply riding the canal and not going anywhere near as far as I was but for all I know they might have been going round the world.   There was much more activity on the canal this morning. I was now at the point where the river Oust is navigable so there were, of course, the inevitable, slow moving rented boats which to me seem nowhere near as good a way as seeing the canals as riding a bike. I hurried past fifteen young teenagers sailing on what I can only describe as three old doors. In fact, these were probably the flat=bottomed boats similar to the ones that the locals on the Loire use in times of flood. Nonetheless, there was hardly a lifejacket in sight, and certainly no adults, I hurried past, not wanting to have to be the one responsible for diving in if one or more of them overturned, as I felt certain they were sure to do. Then I met a man who would have warmed the heart of my Breton friend of two days ago. A lovely, humble man, with a twinkle in his eye and a shy smile, walking from Nantes to Brest with his donkey, Topaz.  Topaz was his support vehicle carrying what I presumed to be the camping gear. I wanted to ask him how he got Topaz back home to Nantes from Brest at the end of the journey, but I didn’t. I took his photograph instead.

Malestroit is a very agreeable small town with a medieval charm and apparently a church worth seeing. I thought as much as I gazed across a barrage of construction material at a couple of old gargoyles, but I didn’t have time to investigate further.  At last I am finding the picturesque Breton villages that I had missed in the north of Finistere. But I hurried on, eager for my lunch and some shelter from what looked like threatening rain (again!)

The first part of the day had been on excellent surfaces and I was beginning to think that I should have put the slicks back on. However, after Peillac the surface reverted to stones and gravel and by the time I reached Redon it was little more than a thin strip of stones squeezed between the railway and the canal. This urban penumbra was not very pretty and I was pleased to arrive in the town proper. This crossroads of canals, an enormous expanse of water, must have been a thriving place  a couple of centuries ago and it was busy now. I decided discretion was the better part of valour and pushed my bike through the town to retrieve the Nantes Brest canal which was looking here rather sadly nondescript  and dirty compared to the impressive Vilaine canal that crossed it.

 Pleasant enough tracks took me past the ecluse de Bellion and on to Fegreac  after which things improved greatly.  The canal widens, and on either side are marshlands, ponds, rivulets. A rich area of wildlife, especially birds. The towpath as such disappears and in its place a track winds sinuously along the side of the water. Perfect for mountain bike riding, and indeed for walking. There is a powerful sense of isolation and between Port Miny and Guenrouet, little sign of habitation. Once again the sun had appeared in the late afternoon flooding these marshlands with a wonderfully delicate light.

I think it must have been the sun which gave me some second wind for the final twenty or so kilometres into Blain where Katherine had found an excellent campsite and where, with a glass of wine, I could write this blog.

Another longish day in indifferent weather until the late afternoon. The cold wind still mostly head on.  

112 kms 

Total 756 kms

Trip support - Katherine Heery

The whole venture, in fact adventure, wouldn’t work so well without the support; that is the car to carry all the camping things, the meetings at places where roads cross bike paths and the supply of goodies, nourishment, water, and encouragement en route. So that’s me, my role.  So far it’s been excellent for brushing up my map reading ( it’s probably my ignorance but a lot of Breton names look very alike, K being the first letter it seems of lots of little villages).This is very confusing when I’m the driver, navigator and lookout person all rolled into one. I’ve also perfected reversals and turning round in people’s driveways after the map reading has gone a bit astray, asking directions of all and sundry, finding campsites in the most obscure places( why are they always down ,or up such narrow tracks?)  putting up the tent single handed and cheering Richard in at the end of a 100 plus km. day.

I’ve also been able to see a lot of Brittany, the interior that is: villages, churches with their distinctive towers and steeples, the calvaires( a translation seems to be ossuaries, they being  a burial place for bones) and I’ve enjoyed beautiful walks along the river or canal whilst waiting for Richard. 

So a night in a great hotel, mainly to charge  batteries and access emails etc. has had the added advantage of  allowing us to miss the only rainy night so far, great not to have to eat our porridge in the muddy wet and instead have a buffet breakfast in the warm and dry.  Today should see us at the end of the canal .          Katherine 

May 17th tenth stage

May 17^th tenth stage  Rostrenen to Josselin by the Nantes Brest canal  107 kms

The wonderful thing about cycling along a canal is that it is predictable yet always changing. You know the water will be there but round every corner the water is never exactly the same and the surrounding landscapes also continually change.  I think I would never tire of the locks and their houses and gardens, all carefully tended, with manicured grass, flowerbeds and flowering shrubs. All the paintwork is a glorious sky blue and there is nothing in the slightest forced.  In fact, when I came across an uncared for house and untended garden just after St Aignan I was shocked.

Inexplicably I became hopelessly lost on leaving the small town of Rostrenen, goodness knows how, so I asked a bunch of Ascension Day local cyclists who were blatantly relieving themselves into the municipal bedding plants, how to get to the river. Maybe they weren’t happy about being disturbed because five minutes later they shot past me in a Tour de France peloton phalanx without saying a word. I was still finding this typical of a lot of the people I was meeting along the way (the gardener and my Breton companion yesterday were the exception rather than the rule) but I must admit that this couldn’t be said of the three gentlemen I met on the way to Pontivy. Two of them were cyclists and one of the two sported an Irish flag on the back of his bike. Maybe a  few years older than myself they were enjoying a cycling holiday along the canal. We had a right old natter. It turned out that  John lived in Ballinasloe, just up the road from my brother and promised to call in when he got back home to report on my progress. There was  too much to talk about and the Irishmen were hungry after their morning’s cycling, and they were staying in a gite where the cooking was very much to their taste. But before they left Des couldn’t resist telling me a story. On learning that my surname was Heery, and knowing that the Heeries came from County Cavan, Des said that people from Cavan were known to be a bit stingy. “let me tell you a story before you go,” he said. “A man from Cavan was scraping the wallpaper off his wall. His friend appears and  observes that he must be decorating. Not all, replies the man from Cavan, we’re moving”   We parted, chuckling.

There is a problem at Gouarec. The canal, six or so kilometres later disappears into the Guerledan lake, a man-made reservoir. The towpath has equally disappeared. There is a “voie verte” but I preferred to take a short cut from Bon Repos through the forested country lanes to Les Forges and on to Saint Aignan where it is possible to pick up the main canal again after the “barrage”. A pleasant, undulating ride, nonetheless, I was irritated by the difference between my VTT tyres on the road surface compared to my slicks, and by the fierce easterly headwind that had sprung up and which was to remain with me all day.

Slower they may be on the tarmac, I was, nonetheless happy to have changed my tyres. Even yesterday, the normally quite firm towpath had disintegrated into thick, clinging mud in places, and now between St Aignan and Pontivy the newly laid surface of sharp gravel would have been lethal to the slicks. When I met the Irishmen they had been pushing their bikes having suffered a puncture; I wasn’t surprised.

The fifty or so kilometres between Pontivy and Josselin, however, were lovely. The stiff easterly headwind was still there but the surface was immaculate, the ascent and descent through the two series of locks before Rohan, the water backing up between each lock into extremely picturesque large ponds,  an ornithologist’ and fisherman’s paradise, a joy to ride, especially in the early evening slanting sunshine. I took a short rest and detour at lock 41  La Tetraie to sit quietly for a few moments in the astonishing church of Saint Melec, very highly recommended.  Twenty minutes later I was in Josselin, admiring the three towered chateau. 

 Today I continued to catch up on lost time. The continual headwind didn’t slow my progress and the sunshine in the afternoon was welcome. Some very beautiful scenery.  107 kms Total 644 kms