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Day 9: Ferme Du Mont Moret to Woods near Vaucouleurs, July 10th, 130km.



This has been the most tiring day so far, and it still isn’t over. I got up at 8 and cycled into and around town until I found an ATM and was able to withdraw 100 euros. I then bought a huge swiss pastry and a pan au chocolat (although I somehow managed to get 2 – result!). I ate the Swiss right then and brought the others back to the campsite. My clothes were still wet so I laid them in the sun to dry, paid my debt and packed. I left around 11. A late start.


I cycled along pleasant canals and rivers until I came to lac du der. There I stopped and went for a pleasant swim. The water was nice, if a little green. I turned over some [stuff in my mind]. That made me feel a little more carefree.


I showered the lake-water off and continued on my way. I had determined to reach Strassbourg in only 2 days, mainly to give my clothes a good wash, so I powered on at great speed and exertion past the rest of the lakes and the seemingly endless canal paths. I made great, if tiring, progress. Then the route switched and I found myself going up and down endless, shallow, rolling hills. I passed through wooded valleys and charming rural towns. In several I stopped at town halls, churches, old towers, in search of water taps, as my supply dwindled. No luck. This went on for hours. I grew parched. I grew hungry. At last I spied an approaching restaurant on the map. I got there. Closed. But it had a tap on the outside. Was it drinkable? Who cared? I filled my water anyway. An old man came out to question me but I waved him away.





16km and several huge hills later I descended into Vaucouleurs, a beautiful little town with some association to Joan of Arc which they are very proud of. I went to the nearest kebab shop. I bought a double cheeseburger, a coke, and the best beer I ever had. The manager ascertained that I had cycled there from the UK. He was very impressed. I’m there now. No idea where I’m sleeping tonight. Wild camping at last?


***

 

I finished my burger and cycled off towards the hills and woods. I passed a couple of spots by the river Meaux which proved inaccessible. At last I found myself trundling along a path next to some trees as the light faded. I passed a deer and a wild boar who scurried off as I approached. After some hesitation I set up my tent in a shielded, flattish patch of grass by the path and, despite the bottle of coke I had drunk, managed to fall asleep quickly enough, haunted by rustles and dreams of wild boars.



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