Scooby doobie do....

RDay 2 and I'm not up with the larks. In fact I could hear the rain on the fly sheet so I was staying put. But then I decided procrastinating was not going to help and It would be a late night cycle if I didn't get a wriggle on.  Wet tent stuffed into a stuff sack. I'll deal with that later. 

The road to Tournault was as pleasant as could be.  The route took me alongside more water ways and canals as I quietly meandered my way towards Holland. 

However if you navigate by Garmin you will understand my distress when I followed the route that took me to this point. 

This was supposed to be my crossing but apparently someone had stolen the landing stage.  As I gazed up and down the river I could see the boats passing from pier to pier.  I looked for a button or a bell to summon a boat maybe he would come up and untie the barrier. It's amazing how deluded you can become when the answer was pretty simple.  No one is coming for you! Move on.   Sure enough five minutes up the river a brand spanking pier was waiting.  I couldn't resist taking the picture from the other angle 

This "free" service runs back and forth every day carrying locals, tourists and cyclists from one pier to the next.  

As the sun began to dip I realised I hadn't eaten lunch so when I was greeted to the wafting smells from a quick food van at a local fete the front wheel of the bike turned towards it and if course I had to follow.  As I sat slumped against a post munching on a burger I was swooped on by the local mayor. He didn't have a badge but he was wearing a white linen suit and a jaunty fedora to match.  But it was the fat cigar that give the game away.  Now having brushed with authorities already I was a little apprehensive.  Are you the women from Calais heading to Budapest? ( Note to self... Don't be so chatty at burger vans) "Well we are almost finished with our Fete tent so feel free to sleep in there rather than cycle another twenty miles". I was a bit taken aback to say the least. I thanked him but declined the kind offer. Anyway I have a perfectly lovely tent of my own and I needed to get on to the campsite. 

In previous blogs I have talked about the sudden appearance around a corner of a message from the Universe. I happened upon this which was to provide me with another two hours mulling as I cycled. 

And finally. It was late and I had found myself pushing my bike along a track of sand heading for my campsite. Whilst cursing the quicksand nature of this track  a well travelled orange VW campervan pulled alongside. "Are you stuck, have you a flat" shouted a young chap from the front seat. When I explained the viscosity of dry sand and cycle wheels he stopped the van. "No problem we can give you a lift to the next Tarmac road." Now I am not in the way of accepting lifts from strangers but as I climbed into the van with the two girls and two blokes I thought it was a perfect moment to see what the inside of the Scoobie Van really looked like.  I didn't dare spoil the illusion by asking if one of them was called Thelma and I was ceremoniously dropped off at the next junction amidst hoots of laughter and well wishing.  The van then bounced it's way off from whence it came. You have just got to love  Those pesky kids.  Perfect end to another grand day out.