17th September (sunny and very hot!) 23 km

Tomorrow is the final day of our tour of the Loire Valley with Dad, and we have almost made it to our destination with a day to spare. So this is like the final day of the Tour de France riding up the Champs d’Elysees, the work has been done, the outcome is known and now it’s just the acknowledgement and celebration to cap it off. When Dad rides into Nantes tomorrow, there won’t be any hysteria of mass crowds, the only good looking woman to congratulate him, will be his daughter-in-law, but at least her hug and kiss will be heartfelt. It won’t be Paris, but at eighty five, he will have ridden 500 kms, from Orleans to Nantes.

During that time he has been balancing on a bike totally foreign to him compared to the one he was training on in New Zealand. He had to have a step through bike, as with the panniers and tent on the back, it would have been too dangerous to contemplate otherwise, without fear of serious injury. The first day we picked up the bike, from a back alley hire shop in Orleans, he rode this strange cycle, on cobbled streets, also foreign to him and fell off, injuring his shin and fortunately nothing else. Then he rode for the first time ever a fully laden bike, having to get used to a new balance aspect entirely. That first few kms out of Orleans, I thought was going to be his last.

Over the following two weeks he endured life in a tent. Developing new routines and learning how to work around injuries acquired over his lifetime, which prevent him from being able to kneel or get in and out of a tent with any form of ease. The first night camping, when I got up in the night to help him to the toilet block three times, he was frozen solid and totally disoriented and I wondered how we would get him to the train station the next day, for a trip back to England, let alone on a bike to continue his tour.

His balance on this particular bike has been improving all the time and I have improved from ten heart attacks a day, to just the odd few. Watching as he swerves to the wrong side of the road into oncoming traffic, or takes a bend so wide that he is looking at the grill of an approaching vehicle, is now a very odd occurrence. My use of bad language has also improved to understandable levels, after tirades towards other motorists, or even Dad himself after multiple near death experiences. We have taken our time, but even so, have still not managed to spend much time sitting and relaxing beside the river, sipping wine and eating French food.  Ice creams on the road have been the most frequent treat. Cooking food on our little gas stove has been a revelation for Dad and he now understands why Ju and I place such high value on this little piece of equipment. It is fast, efficient and reliable.

He mentioned to me two days ago that he had just gotten used to sleeping in the tent. That may be the case, but I’m sure that he is looking forward to his bed. Trying to stay warm at night has also been a matter of trial and error. Just having the right clothes available to put on and making sure they are handy in the night is the key. The headlight we’ve given him to use for night time loo trips has been invaluable and prevented many a possible fall. Getting together in the morning around a bench seat for, first a morning cuppa, then our breakfasts, have been extremely enjoyable, as we have planned our day in advance.

He’s also discovered that life on the road quite often doesn’t go according to plan and changes in route or direction happen frequently. Road surfaces vary from hot mix smooth perfection, to cobbles, to the worst farm tracks imaginable, where it’s a feat in itself, just to stay on the bike and that’s for Ju and I, imagine what it must be like for Dad. The gearing on his bike has only ever been nearly up to scratch and with his own equipment, he would definitely have had a better ride. The bike is too small for his height and the handlebar set up is very restrictive. However, that was all that was available and you get what you’re given. I’m not sure how much he has been able to see of the Loire, other than when we have stopped to photograph, as he has been concentrating on staying upright most of the time. He has a sore thumb from changing gear and has hurt his neck from the same thing. He has been vigilant in applying sun screen and a shower after a days ride is worth its  weight in gold. A fantastic effort for many, not only someone of his years and one that he can be very proud of. I know you’ve got a lot of admirers in NZ, waiting to congratulate you.                                                      Well done Dad. Just the crowning glory tomorrow to put the icing on the cake.

Over the years, many people have asked us if we would take groups overseas on cycling holidays. The answer to that has only been reinforced as NO….not for any amount. The responsibility is huge and never eases up, it’s 24/7. It would take all the enjoyment of cycle touring away, for both of us.

This morning the sun was up and burning early. By midday, it was 26 degrees, an hour later, it was 30 degrees. Not a day to be spending in the saddle, so it was just as well that we only had about 20kms to ride to our final campsite at Thouare-sur-Loire.

Our lovely little campground at la Varenne.
So nice to actually have some grass to pitch on.

Left camp at la Varenne, cycling mainly today through agricultural fields of seedlings, of what variety, it was impossible to tell, but it went on for miles. We’d only had a coffee and a biscuit to start and by lunchtime, when we pulled into a Super U supermarket, we were famished. They had a lovely little air-conditioned café, which we took advantage of and enjoyed some much needed nourishment. Dad and Julia enjoyed paninis whilst I ordered a burger, just to hear the girl serving me, repeat it back to me, in the same voice used to order a burger by Steve Martin, in the movie Pink Panther. I wish I’d had it recorded.

A nice ride into the outskirts of Nantes

While we were here, Ju tried to book us a hotel room for tonight instead of staying in the campground, but after paying 16 euros for the night, it’s very hard to bring yourself to pay 200 euro, so we decided to stick with the campground.  At least we didn’t have to negotiate a big foreign city in this heat.  We have an air bnb booked for tomorrow night to look forward to.

Our campground tonight - unfortunately with the hot
summer they've had over here and lack of rain, this
type of ground has been the norm rather than the exception.

Not far down the lane, we pulled gratefully into our last stop on the road. It was early afternoon and must have been early thirties temperature wise. Looked in vain for a blade of grass to put the tents on, got them up, blobbed in the shade, ate an ice cream and relaxed. Julia and I then cycled back into town for our last on-the-road supplies. Arrived back at camp bearing coke for Ju and Dad and more than one beer for me. The French also have a terrible habit in the supermarkets of not keeping their beer and wine cold.  On a day like this, that is the point.  Sat in the shade, which was a huge bonus, until Ju and Dad went to take their showers and I did more blogging before dinner. Dad managed to contact Terry and Peggy today which was nice and also Anna in Switzerland, to tell her of his arrival time.

Whilst here, we have grown fond of a brown French loaf called a Batard. There’s something about walking into a shop and asking in your best French accent, if they have any bastards left. They look at you strangely, but hey, who cares, it lightens my day.

We just had ham, lettuce, tomato and avocado sandwiches for dinner, followed by coffee and raspberry tarts.  The ground here is extremely dry and lumpy and devoid of grass so probably not going to get the best night’s sleep for our last night in the tents with Dad.