Camino v3 - Day 6: Angoulême to Bonnes (65km)

I try to plan a route for my departure that avoids climbing back up the hill into the city but it's a futile exercise and I end up starting my ride with the long climb back into the old town. What I don't know at this stage is that the whole day's ride will be one long series of hill climbs, and the climb into the city will pale by comparison to all the other hills I'll be climbing today.

Angoulême Cathedral

I've stopped at Ronsenac. The guide implies there's food to be had here, but all I see is a somewhat dodgy-looking bar, called "Jimmy's bar". There's a couple of UK-registered cars parked out front, possibly some of Jimmy's mates. I decide instead to find a place to stop and have some of the food I've brought with me. Just then I spot a sign to the Fontaine Légendaire, which I've read about in my guide, so I turn down the side alley and it's right there: a cool spot with crystal clear icy-cold water streaming out of the ground; not a bad little spot for my morning break. I'm sitting enjoying the place when a couple of small boys come with nets on poles - they are trying to catch frogs. Their grandfather joins them and together we watch a car stop on the main road, the occupants look down the alley to the fountain, then they drive off. The grandfather and I look at each other both probably thinking similar thoughts; he verbalises them: "They come all the way here and just visit the fountain from their car. Lots of people do that." He bemoans the fact that the villages are surely dying and small businesses are closing, mentioning that people following the Chemin de Compostelle still come with guides saying that there are shops in the village. Sounds familiar, I think to myself. Later, as I'm leaving I ask if I could get some water for my bottle and we go across the road to his house - he lives opposite the legendary fountain - and he fills my drink bottle with bottled water (not tap water or legendary water, which had been declared unsafe for drinking, probably by the same people selling bottled water) and then he gives me the rest of the bottle of water to take with me, a nice gesture.

The legendary fountain - with bike

Aubeterre-sur-Donne, which turns out to be one of the plus beaux villages de France, is on my route, so I turn off the main road and ride up to the centre historique. It turns out that the Église Monolithe, of which there are only two in Europe, both in France, is not only open but it's free for today. It's an amazing concept: an entire church, something like 27m long by 16m wide and 20m high, complete with columns, a gallery, a crypt and burial rooms, has been constructed by carving out the solid limestone rock; the whole thing is underground. The mind boggles just thinking about the planning and work involved. It's not like you could rebuild a section you'd cut out by mistake.

Eglise Monolithe - underground church in Aubeterre-sur-Donne

I want to visit the Église St Jacques since it has some relevance to the Chemin de Compostelle. The  bells chime 3 pm just as I've reached the church after a steep uphill ride from the main square (which itself is a steep uphill ride from the route). And then just as I'm finding a spot for the bike before visiting the church, a wedding party - I had seen them down in the main square at the Mairie - comes walking up the street (Rue St Jacques) and the church bells start continuously ringing. I'm standing there with my bright yellow panniers and my bike shorts and I'm photo bombing the wedding party. Judging by where the photographers are, I am going to be in the background of some of their wedding photos. Nobody seems to notice me on any case. My visit to the church is upstaged by the fact that there is going to be a wedding. I think they may not appreciate me gatecrashing their wedding so I decide to head off without having seen the church.

Eglise St Jacques, wedding - and bike

My bed for tonight turns out to be in a mobile home on a farm campsite. Something different. The owner has been here for sixty years farming the land and developing the place, which he's now turned partly into a campground since he's retired from farming. It's all a bit hit and miss (there's no hot water in my mobile home so I have to use the, rather dubious, campground showers for example).

Not quite what I'd expected, but home-away-from-home anyway

When I arrive, he hands me a beer and we sit in his house at the large dining table, which looks like it's his office as well judging by the random paperwork strewn across it. We talk about the Chemin de Compostelle, snoring in dormitories, how few pilgrim facilities there are in France, and then we move on to the benefits of various crops (we are on a farm, and he's a retired farmer). I ask him what he grows here and after getting the list: sunflowers, corn, canola... he spends the rest of the conversation extolling the virtues of corn. It has so many uses and he's particularly passionate about its benefits for the environment, especially its ability to moderate the climate by keeping the soil temperature lower in summer. I'm learning but also thinking that the are those who might have a different opinion about the environmental benefits of growing corn. Its need for lots of water in summer when it doesn't rain, so requiring irrigation, and the need to often dry it artificially to store it, which needs hydrocarbons for the heating, are perhaps a few of its less positive environmental features.

This road leads to many places

I ride down to the next village for dinner. The restaurant (the only one) is part of some sort of holiday village complex and is called Restaurant La Plage ("Beach Restaurant"). There's an artificial lake complete with an artificial beach, volleyball nets, kid's activities and so forth. The restaurant is Italian French with something like a typical island theme, complete with appallingly bad music. Not really the sort of place I'd normally come to, but it makes for an interesting evening. There are quite a few tables of Brits, and it makes me think a little of the Costa del Sol, but not in a good way. In front of me there are three British couples; each guy has a dog on a leash. I wonder if they'd be taking dogs to a restaurant in the UK? The guys are all sitting on one side of the table, opposite what I guess is their respective partner. The guys have their backs to me. It's decided that the guys will all take a picture of the three women, who pose while making some comments, which I can't quite understand, but which seem to involve boobs. Then I see the guys comparing their photos (since I am sitting behind them, I can see what they are looking at), and they are zooming in on the boobs, making comments which I also can't quite catch. I wonder if this was a French group whether they'd be doing something similar? Probably not.

The restaurant is full, with quite a few groups. There's about a hundred customers and the whole thing is being handled by two waiters. It's something that always impresses me in France; how few wait staff they need while still managing to provide an efficient service, even if not particularly friendly in this case.

View from a mobile home

I ride back to my mobile home glad that I have good lights on the bike. Being in the middle of nowhere, the road is pitch black. Luckily I've had the forethought to leave the outside light on at my mobile home. I notice a camper-van has set up for the night nearby, so I am not the only one on site tonight.