Wednesday, 19 July 2006
Distance 20 km
Duration 3 hours 45 minutes
Ascent 36 m, descent 38 m
Map 26 of the
It was now generally agreed that France was in the grip of a canicule (heatwave), bringing back fearful memories of the one in 2003 that had killed so many people.
Consequently we had the motive to get up at six, not long after the sun had struggled through the haze. A couple of sight-seeing balloons rose over the river as we packed up.
Our muesli was unappetising without fruit, but we had not seen a shop for days. The citizens of Chaumont all go to the supermarket over the bridge, at Onzain.
Although we normally avoided road walking, we decided to make a dash for Amboise on the road, as the GR was longer and steeper, climbing to the escarpment and back several times. At that hour there was no traffic and we swung along easily.
The drawback was that it was still too early, when we reached Rilly-sur-Loire, for the bar to be open, but further on at Mosnes we had more luck, with coffee and croissants under the trees.
From there on the road was busier but there was a generous verge to walk on, and without trouble we cruised into Amboise along the river. The great château was high up on our left.
At a bar near the bridge we sat down for a second round of coffees, well satisfied with ourselves. There was a little supermarket nearby so we replenished our supplies (sardines, lettuce, fruit). We also found a Presse and bought the next
As we had been to Amboise the year before, we knew that the camping ground was on an island in the Loire, just over the bridge. At the office, the receptionist took Keith’s particulars but said that we must pay as we left tomorrow.
Keith held out the money and I said that we were walkers and might leave before the office opened at
The camping cars were huddled under the trees like a herd of white buffaloes. We chose a shady little corner near the shower block, which had a splendid flower garden in front of it. The showers were strong and could be modulated from warmish to coolish in a pleasant way.
After a fortifying picnic of fish, cheese, salad and bread, we lay on our bed rolls and slept, thankful that we were not still walking, as it was terrifically hot.
Then a bank of cloud blotted out the sun and small rain began to fall, so we had to put our tent up in a hurry. We can do it in about a minute, but he rain did not persist.
I had a stumbling conversation in Italian with an old couple on a nearby camping car, discovering that I was more fluent in French these days, the opposite of the state of affairs when we first started walking in France.
Later we sauntered over to the bar behind the office for afternoon tea. Le Tour was on the TV inside and we were gratified to see that our Aussie heroes were fifth and seventh in the general classification.
At 6:30 we wandered back to town, to a strip of cafés just at the foot of the château, and sat down for a small jug of rosé, which we lingered over until the sun declined over the rooftops and the waiter started furling the big dark-red umbrellas.
It had seemed the best choice then and it still did. The courtyard, with walls painted in trompe-l’oeuil, could be seen through the dim interior.
It was full of chattering diners but we found a table.
For old times’ sake, Keith had the same ham-laden pasta as before, while I had dish of chicken.
Strolling back over the bridge in the still-stifling evening air, there was thunder and lightning, which became quite a rain shower after we were safely tucked up in our tent.