To Bordeaux and beyond

Rural France has not yet caught up with the idea of l'internet - it's something "pour les jeunes" from the city, so I have not written for a while.
With my puncture problems behind us we have been flying down the coast. We have managed just over 200 miles in the last three days, including a marathon 85 mile stint yesterday.
We have also picked up a third member of the group, a 32-year-old fitness enthusiast called Greg who we overtook on Thursday. He has been with us ever since.
Greg is a great bloke and we have had a good laugh but he has also clearly planned his trip in advance. So he thought to bring for example, a single gas burner and lots of maps. Joe and I have eaten like kings the last few days and we have rarely got lost.
Greg is going his own way tomorrow - he will be sadly missed.
When Joe and I were sitting shivering outside the Pen & Wig pub in Cardiff discussing this trip I wasn't sure I would be able to do it. Then fundraising took over and I put the cycling to the back of my mind. The end of my exams spelt the end of any semblance of a training regime, so I was quite concerned I might not make it.
But we have already made it to Bordeaux more than a week-and-a-half early. We are actually in Arcachone, which is on the coast further south than Bordeaux.
After a much-needed rest today we are going to plough on and see how far south we can get.
Since I last wrote we have passed through La Rochelle, which is a stunning old walled town. When we got to the town we had been cycling through the open countryside for about forty miles and to suddenly be greeted by thousands of enthusiastic tourists bustling about snapping photos and running around was just too much - we had to get out. If you want to appreciate La Rochelle, go in the car.
We managed to get about 20 miles out of La Rochelle before our resolved broke and we found a campsite in a town which I think is called Chateaulien.
Dead on our feet we set up our tents in the usual robotic routine without really looking around or taking in our surroundings.
I wondered why the owner of the site apologetically asked if we would like to have a look around the site before we decided.
This campsite I think could be best described as a tourist graveyard. There was a caravan morgue where broken, un-loved caravans were left scattered and abandoned. The most telling sign of decay was a huge delapidated tourist bus which had been dumped right in the centre of the site.
We Crossed the mouth of the Girondins river on the car ferry, which was a blissful experience although I felt slightly guilty I was not peddling.
Yesterday we cycled for over 9 hours, of which almost the whole time was spent going through woodland.
The French are brilliant at providing safe tracks for cyclists and this track was beautful. However spending that long going through a forest can send your mind a bit loopy.
For almost 9 hours the landscape never changed. After a few hours it was as if I was not moving at all but the scenery was whizzing along - like a budet film.
It was also the second hardest day we have endured on the trip. I never thought I could manage 85 miles in a day, through terrain which was a lot more hilly than I would have liked. A few tired old cliches would not describe how I felt when we arrived.
Arcahone seems to have everything; a beautful beach, woodland tracks and a picturesque centre ville, unspoilt by the toutists who flock here.
We are going to relax on the beach today before heading out into the woods again tomorrow.
Donations - www.justgiving.com/bigtripfrance