So after the pain of having to go back on ourselves, but the joy of a hotel bed, I picked up my wonderfully true wheel from Lucy's favorite frenchman and we headed back along the road to L'herbergement.
We were heading for Lucon, which looked like a nice town, and one we knew had camping that was open. It was 32 degrees and I have now got the tshirt tan of dreams, well, not quite a perfect tshirt tan because my hands are still white due to my bike gloves.
The riding was flat and fairly easy? We stopped at a town called Les Essarts, which unbeknown to us was he starting point for this years tour de france. This we found quite exciting (really not much else has happened in the last few days!!) And stopped for a cold drink as we thought we should.
After pushing on to a town which name escapes me, we stopped for lunch on a nice piece of grass outside a church, and were happily enjoying the beautiful weather and the scenery when a loud bang came from the direction of our bikes. Without any warning Lucy's front tyre had just exploded without warning. Cue a quick inner tube change (as the hole made by the stone that was embedded was far to big) we could only assume that the heat, along with Lucy having her tyres pumped up the day before, had combined to cause this.
We headed on, and half an hour later I looked in my mirror and there was no sign of Lucy. After a short back track, there she was, bike on it's side with yet another puncture. Not a happy Lucy!
After that things went ok, we got to Lucon and came across 3 other bike tourers, from Norfolk. They had got the ferry into St Malo (which is higher up than Roscoff) and somehow had done 100 miles less than us!!! Obviously our weaving through Brittany did us no good.
50.07 miles on the clock and again, I can't think of a question or quote off hand.
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