Where in the world is David today? Bordeaux

What's today's word? Irritation. I'll explain later - but just to say first that much of the day has been really good.

I got away from Angoulême nice and promptly this morning, but not exactly after a good night's sleep. Despite polite notices asking for silence around the hotel there were young people making a noise and banging doors till nearly 2.00am with no intervention. When I woke up with that, I then started with a coughing fit which wouldn't go away. Then when I got back to sleep my alarm went off at 3.45am - I don't know how that got set. Since I had been feeling pretty low when I went to sleep anyway (Kate and I had been talking about the fact that I was going to miss the exhibition of Jonathan's pictures, and I got very upset) I didn't really get quality sleep at all. Nevertheless, I was up and about on time, my clothes had dried reasonably well from the previous day's rain, and so I got on the go.

Finding my way out of Angoulême onto the road I wanted was fairly straightforward, surprisingly for such a convoluted city, and my route began with lots of climbing - half the day's climbing in the first 10 miles or so. However, it was a beautiful (though not too hot) day, with little wind, and I made good time without overdoing it. My re-planned route worked, and once I was 20 miles clear of the city and reached Montmoreau-St-Cybard I was in the valley of the river Tude, a small, slow-moving river full of yellow irises and waterlilies. Sorry, no photograph! Following the river and railway, apart from one diversion, meant fairly level and fast riding. To my surprise, I suddenly recognised placenames on road signs (for example Riberac) from a holiday long ago in the Dordogne with the Sherlock family when our children were quite young.

I had a break in Chalais, and then pressed on through Parcoul (a bit of a climb) to La-Roche-Chalais, at which point the day took a turn for the worse when I heard a 'ping' from the back wheel followed by a rattling noise. It only took a moment to confirm what I feared - a spoke had broken. I had been worried that might happen ever since a pannier fell off in east London and got caught up in the spokes, but having gone so long without further trouble I was hoping I was wrong. Who knows whether there was a connection? It doesn't really matter, the spoke broke. I tucked it out of the way and pressed on, hoping to find a cycle shop, with lunchtime coming and the sun getting hotter. Just one spoke out lets the wheel go out of true, and the brakes were rubbing more and more as I approached Coutras, so I decided to stop and eat my improvised lunch.

Re-fuelled, and with the magic re-opening hour of 2.00pm approaching, I pressed on into Coutras, and hailed a passing cyclist. Sure enough, he said there was an excellent cycle shop opposite the station (which I would have missed, because the road didn't go past). He'll be open again at 2.00pm, he assured me. Well, when I got there, it certainly looked to be the right place because it was a dealer for the kind of wheels on my bike, but the sign said they were closed not till 2.00pm, but 3.00pm. With an hour to kill, I set myself up with a drink and a 'flan avec pruneaux' and got out my book about the Spanish part of the Camino to kill some time.

An hour later, sure enough, they opened up. At first the mechanic was convinced he didn't have the right length spokes (more head shaking, just like yesterday) and he was all set to do his best to true the wheel and send me elsewhere. Then, magically, he found a bag of the right spokes, and 30 minutes later I was back on the road with the wheel as good as new and two more spare spokes in my pannier for good measure. Even so, that was a lot of time lost, but I was good and rested and eager to get on. The route after Coutras quickly took me into good wine country, passing through Lalande-de-Pomerol and into Libourne to cross the Dordogne river into the Entre-deux-mers area. I was as happy as could be, but then the second mishap of the day occurred.

Signposting seemed good to begin with, but the roads were very busy. I passed through Arveyres and followed the signs for Vayres, but either I misread one, or there was a misleading sign and before I knew it I was on a motorway sliproad. This isn't right, I thought, so I stopped and walked back up. As I did so, I passed a couple who'd stopped on the hard shoulder to pick cherries, and they offered me a couple - delicious. Once I reached the junction at the top, I spent a few minutes getting reoriented and working out how to get back to my route, and set off again. Half a mile on, I noticed that the bike computer wasn't in its mount. Back again, with more time lost to look for it.

Sure enough, I had knocked it off walking the bike across the road getting back on track, and it looked just fine. Unfortunately, when I turned it over it was obvious that a vehicle had run over it, so I'm now without the valuable information it gives me as I ride, and you will be without maps of where I have been. I feel bereft - it really has helped me keep going on challenging climbs, and encouraged me about the progress I am making. There is apparently a dealer in Dax, my next stop, but I'm not sure a) whether I will be there in time, b) whether he will have one in stock, or c) whether I can really afford to replace it. On the other hand, I don't know how I will manage without it. That really took the shine off the day, and the remaining miles into Bordeaux, with more time wasted, felt a real slog.

Maybe they felt a slog because it got more and more urban. Or maybe it was because it was hot and I was tiring a bit. Or maybe it was because there were annoying diversions for roadworks that weren't well signed. Or maybe it was because I felt sure I was going to be too late to get my stamp. It doesn't really matter, I didn't feel cheerful riding into Bordeaux and the last few miles felt much longer than they were. But then arriving at the bridge over the Garonne into Bordeaux was exciting. It is such a huge river - and therefore such a  long bridge! Almost immediately off the end of the bridge were signs into the Quartier Ancienne where I knew the Basilica St-Michel could be found (I could even see it) so I made in that direction through streets that felt more part of Morocco than somewhere in France, and quickly worked out that Bordeaux is quite an 'alternative' place. The church was, perhaps as I expected, locked up, and the only opening times on display were the ones for winter! I wasn't impressed. Still, I had had a look.

Now to find the Cathédrale Saint-André. That was harder, but I located it after battling with one-way streets and cobbles, and not only was it open, there was someone on duty near the sacristy, who duly stamped my credencial. Marvellous! Not a bad ending to the story. The cathedral didn't excite me in the way that some have. There was a service going on, and some bits felt out of bounds. The signs asked you not to walk around that area during a service, but didn't encourage you to go and join in. However, when taking my daily pulpit shot I was amused that the (large) clock on the south wall of the nave would be very much visible to the preacher, and also by the fact that there was a 'box' with padded chairs for special people immediately facing the pulpit!

The 'alternative' feel extended to that part of town too, and my 'event' for Bordeaux was to witness a protest march in support of the Palestinian people after the events of the last few days with the aid ships being attacked. It was noisy, vigorous, but totally peaceful, and nobody seemed to bat an eyelid. From there it was an easy but longish run out to the hotel, which gives me a good start for tomorrow.

What have I been thinking about today? Well, I shall just mention a couple of things. Firstly, I keep wondering  why particular towns are twinned. I notice the 'twinned with' signs as I enter places and it sets me thinking. Why is Watford twinned with Nanterre? Why is Bathford twinned with Artannes-sur-Indre? Why is Dundee twinned with Orleans? Why is Pitlochlry twinned with Confolens? Answers on a postcard, please. Secondly, I have been thinking about the 'finishing line'. My thoughts are along the lines that we should be happy to cross the finishing line every day, rather than being disappointed always with our progress towards some far away finishing line. I need to process that some more. I have also been thinking a lot about Jonathan, and I have been thinking a lot about James Sherlock, competing in the Royal Overseas League Music Competition final this evening - the result should now be known. That doesn't mean my mind wasn't on the road, and it doesn't mean I wasn't enjoying my surroundings. I was, in spite of everything! I still feel cheered by many things I see, the waves of people as I go past, and the comments coming through on email and the blog.

Keep on reading, and I'll try to keep on riding! To give you a previes, tomorrow is long (just over 90 miles because I will be following the pilgrim route very faithfully), but very flat indeed through the Landes forest to Dax, a famous spa town. The next day after that will be tough - shorter, but with more climbing than any day so far - and will bring me to the foothills of the Pyrenees. Then comes the crossing into Spain. It is getting close. Let's hope and pray for fewer mishaps.

P.S. Today is 20th June, I am in Santiago, and I wondered whether it was just the screen of the bike computer that broke, or the whole thing. I plugged it in, and lo and behold, the activity uploaded, up to my stop in Coutras, so I've added the details, followed by the Google Map that I did by hand.




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