Cycling 2750km from Belgium to Spain (Ep. 10)

Cycling 2750km from Belgium to Spain (Ep. 10)

All Music by “Under the Skin”: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0AvLxd0MOteC026aTgu8KX
Intro music by NRA lab, Audio File ID: 119647

Last night, I completely overlooked the breathtaking view from our tent. Maybe I was too tired, or maybe nature was just playing hard to get. But this morning? Oh, she pulled out all the stops—clouds, golden sunbeams, the whole dramatic show. Breakfast with a view has never been this extra.

We kick off the day with a climb past what I confidently called a ‘manor’ yesterday. Turns out, it’s a real castle. Oops. L’Allemandière dates back to the 12th century, and I seriously undersold it. My bad, castle.

The landscape shifts as we enter the Brenne Regional Nature Park—aka ‘the land of a thousand ponds.’ It takes about three minutes to confirm that this name is painfully accurate. Ponds everywhere. At one of them, we stop for lunch, where there’s a little concrete staircase leading into the water… perfect for a swim, if it weren’t for the fact that we’d rather not freeze to death today.

On the far side of the lake, we spot a cluster of giant radio masts. Apparently, they’re used to send top-secret messages to French submarines. They say decoding those messages is impossible, but hey, if anyone’s got some spare time and a tinfoil hat, let me know.

Reaching Le Blanc, we breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of a massive viaduct—38 meters high, 528 meters long, and just a baby at 150 years old. More importantly, it saves us from a brutal valley climb, so yes, we love this bridge.

Later, with no shops in sight, we realize we’re in a bit of a hydration crisis. A woman trimming her hedge seems like our best bet, so we ask if we can fill our bottles. She instantly drops her hedge clippers and motions us to follow. So, off we go, clutching our empty bottles, expecting a quick water refill. Instead? We’re handed two glasses of perfectly chilled rosé. And that’s how this lovely lady earned the legendary title: the woman who turned water into wine.

Eventually, we do get some actual water and pedal on, setting up camp near an old railway-turned-cycle-path. In the distance, rain pours down in dramatic sheets… but somehow, it never quite reaches us. Just enough to keep us on edge, jumping up every time a drop falls to frantically zip up our bags. But in the end, we stay dry, sipping on the last bit of daylight, feeling victorious—hydrated, not drowned, and very much amused by the day’s unexpected miracles.