Stage 5 Donnemain Saint Mames to Loches
81 miles
Mercury Rising
The cycling gods were with us again, delivering bright
sunshine in a cloudless sky. We had decided the previous evening to try and set
off a wee bit earlier so that our evening wasn’t so hectic after arriving at
our destination. Consequently we were able to set the wheels turning at 09:00
hours after our pre ride briefing. The mercury was reading a pleasant 17 C.
We rolled gently south skirting Chateaudun. Some humourous
graffiti brought a smile with a lovely depiction of a fluffy sheep with the
banner ‘Le Mouton’ below it. No doubt Shaun Le Moutin
Having left Chateaudun, a Pelican blue sky lay ahead of us
with a gentle breeze coaxing us along. Happy days. The first photo opportunity
came on entering the small hamlet of Channay. Spirits were up and a little
joviality would hopefully set the tone for the remainder of the day.
We set off again, bemoaning the state of French roads. Silky
smooth and devoid of potholes (that said there are the odd few sections –
normally in the towns - whereby the road
works have clearly been outsourced to Surrey County Council). Anyway I digress.
We had trundled about a mile down the road, when glancing at Pete I noticed
that he looked somewhat different. He had a smile on his face – not unusual –
but what was different was the wind ruffling what few hairs there are left on
the front of his head. ‘Forgotten anything Pete’ I chortled. He had just
started sipping on his bidon, when he spluttered into life. ‘Oh s***’ he
explained. I’ve left my helmet.’ He did a quick U turn and with a turn of speed
to match Mark Cavendish was back up the road to Channay. He had left his helmet
by the side of the road whilst directing the photo shoot. That’s artists for
you.
Heading back in the right direction, cycling was effortless
through the rural landscape. Powerful greens and fertile browns were vivid to
the eye, interspersed with swathes of canary yellow. The senses were lifted by
the sweet fresh air and the vibrancy of the colours. Bright and happy poppies
lifted their faces to warmth of the smiling sun. The odd crow viewed us
suspiciously from the nearby fields, not bothering to break into flight.
Our next ‘comfort stop’ came at a scenic windmill, sitting
dormant by the side of the road. Its weathered blades had long ago stopped
turning, but it still stood proud against an open landscape.
We rolled on to our first stop which came at about the 37
mile mark just outside Blois. Steve the ever reliable was waiting for us, food
at the ready and a ‘Great Ormond Street’ banner attached to the van. The few
miles run in reminded us of a section of the A74 we had encountered in Scotland
when riding Lands End to John O’Groats. Our tender derieres were pummelled by
the HGV pulverised road. (Definitely a Surrey County Council section). We
achieved an average of 17.4 mph for this section with virtually no effort.
Suitably replenished we set off for the second section of
the day which was to take us from Blois to Montrichard. We had not long left
our pit stop and were navigating our way through the town when we made our
crossing of the mighty Loire River. She was in full flow, throwing up eddies
and ripples as she surged past the river piers. Her waters were rich brown with
the soil ripped from the river banks and washed from the magnificent farmlands.
We rode a few miles with ‘Her Majesty’ to our right. We
spotted a noble Heron, motionless near the bank, maintaining a haughty pose
with his slender bill raised to the skies.
By now it was clear that the mercury was rising and our pace
slackened in response. We commented that none of us had done as much landscape
irrigation so resolved to increase our fluid intake. Before too long we had a
forgiving descent into our second stop of the day in Montrichard.
Steve had
again proven his ingenuity by setting up a lean to at the side of the van
utilising a cardboard box to allow us to shelter from the blazing sun. Matt’s
Garmin was reading 30 C. Steve helpfully suggested that he would sneak into the
local supermarket (which he had already visited and loitered way longer than he
ought to have done – without buying anything – to simply take advantage of the
air conditioning) and secrete some of our ‘chamois preparation’ in the
freezers. We could then wander nonchalantly in and retrieve the creams to apply
to our burning regions. This was at Foz’s prompt who claimed his bum was on
fire. It sounded like a plan.
The remains of an ancient castle served as our lunchtime
backdrop. The sun was high in the sky and the local crows were taking full
advantage of the thermals thrown up by the heat of the day, drifting in lazy
spirals above the ramparts. The tranquillity was broken only by the occasional
‘potato potato’ beat of a passing Harley Davidson. Note to self – next trip
will have to feature two wheels of the engine variety.
The last section lay ahead of us which would take us past
the 400 mile mark. Before we reached this milestone we crossed the River Cher
at Montrichard, just after our second stop.
We next stopped off in picturesque Luzille for another photo
opportunity with ‘Equinox’, a piece of local sculpture.
For the preceding four days, Matt had been prompting the
team to remind him that his 15th (crystal) wedding anniversary was
on 5 June. Sam needed a large bouquet of flowers and (with only a little bit of
help) Matt duly obliged. A very happy anniversary to Sam and Matt (Matt did
promise a new horse to go with the crystal chandelier when he gets home !!).
We then finished the last remaining miles at a fairly sedate
pace, all commenting that their nether regions were somewhat tender. We arrived
at our destination, the Inter Hotel George Sand in Loches to schedule. We have
now completed 417 miles.
At periods during the day when the heat was becoming
oppressive and sapping the energy, or when resting ones touché back in the
saddle brought a wince of pain, we collectively utilised such moments to think
of Max and the other little troopers out there who have the real hills in life
to climb. We have had the benefit of enjoying the beautiful French countryside.
With your assistance Max and many like him – with the help of Great Ormond
Street hospital – can hopefully overcome their current challenges to enjoy many
more of their own choosing when living a fulfilling life.
For those of you who have kindly donated, a heartfelt and
genuine thank you from the Fozball team. For those of you who are still
thinking about it – please push that donate button. You will feel a huge sense
of satisfaction and your contribution – no matter how big or small – will make
a difference. Go on – you know you want to. :)
Ride stats
Stage 5 Donnemaine Saint Mames to Loches
80.8 miles at an average of 15.2 mph.
Saddle time 5 hours 20 minutes
Blog post scripts
Additional quote of the day from Stage 4.
When taking the pictures of the American military vehicles
just before our stop for the night, Matt tried to engage one of the French guys
in some conversation. (Matt claims to be fluent in French). Fortunately his
English was better than Matt’s French. ‘How do you say Gibraltar in French’
Matt asked in all innocence. The French guy looked at Matt in a way that only a
Frenchman could look at an Englishman. After a short pause he replied drily
‘Gibraltar – with a French accent’.
Additional anecdote from Stage 3
Clearly Pete and Matt’s concentration levels were low on
stage 3. Not long after missing Steve completely at the second stop of the day
at Neuf- Marche, there was a long winding ascent out of the village. Foz
noticed an opportunity that couldn’t be overlooked. On seeing thick vegetation
on either side of the road, Foz drifted off the front and out of sight ( aided by Pete having to stop to receive a
phone call from an irate Steve enquiring why he had been completely ignored
having taken the time and effort to brew up a kettle of tea, only to see the
three of us cycle straight past him). Safely out of sight, Foz stuffed himself
and his bike into the bushes at the side of the road and waited. Sure enough
Pete and Matt made their way up the climb some minutes later. With a blood
curdling scream, Foz broke cover, scaring the be Jesus out of the pair of them.
Matt nearly tore his handlebars off he jumped so much.
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