So yesterday, as I was on my way to the campsite, I get a call from Azalée, who I contacted on couch surfing, saying I could stay at hers. This was great, as I wasn't really looking forward to a night in a tent, and her apartment is in a lovely setting in the centre of Bordeaux. She also helped me arrange a place to stay for tonight, with her boyfriend in a little village called Taller, in Les Landes, about 120km south of Bordeaux.
Today has been the longest ride of the trip, though I don't think the hardest. The hardest was the ride to Bordeaux, which was so hot there was a layer of sweat on my skin, and this day was the only day I entered the realms of first gear since leaving England. Today was comparitively easy; surprisingly flat, considering I am flirting with the edge of the Pyrennees, and there was a nice cloud cover, so although it was still warm, there was no scorching midday sun. Getting out of Bordeaux city was much easier than entering it, just one straight road from Azalée's flat, which lead me into some great little villages. Belhade was one of my favourites, an eerily beautiful (or beautifully eery) mediaeval town, complete with some guys playing backgammon on a bench. Most of the journey found me surrounded by pine forests. I eventually finished the long hard slog to Taller, to meet Vincent, Azalée's boyfriend, and Cédric and Gaelle, the owners of the house, which they built from scratch out of local pine.
My calfs are now as big as baby dolphins. I looked down at them today and saw that they're not so muscly, rather lumpy. I also have a wicked cool tan.
My plan for now is to leave for Biarritz tomorrow, which shouldn't take too long, then on Monday find my self across the Franco-Spanish border in San Sebastien, a whole two countries away from England.
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