Aix les Bains
After a really long night we decided we were not going to follow on to the next Tour De France point. We were in need of peace and quiet. Fortunately our prayers were answered! A really scenic drive took us further into the mountains. Rushing water followed everywhere we went. Filling our water bottles with fresh spring water added to the feeling of the great outdoors. It was also the best toothe brush we had ever had.
The campsite too had a bubbling river edging by. It was at the foot of a mountain in a tiny village. One butcher, one baker, one campsite. The butcher appeared closed – but he was there. A big strong serious French man who looked like if you happened to get him angry – he could do some damage with a knife. He ambled out silently, assisted us with the ordering of the boerie and the pork chops (which were really the only things on offer – other than pate), took our money and in his odd quiet way left from the backdoor (70cm away from the frontdoor), whilst we left from the front and walked across the slim single track road to his cottage.
Having come into town our bikes we ventured back to read under the shade of the tall trees. To be honest – I had a nap. Glorious!
From slumber to the sound of crackling coals (the worst coals in history). Braaiing, wine and chatting.
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