Into the Venice of Perigord

Day 8

Rochechouart to Brantome

Awaking to a fine sunny day we stepped outside into a freezing morning then spent several minutes trailing to and fro across the square between our hotel and the boulangerie opposite arguing the toss about the relative merits of a hotel breakfast (more expensive but inside and warm) or the boulangerie (outside, cheaper and cold but more temptingly delicious). Finally deciding on the boulangerie, by the time we had placed our complicated breakfast order there was a long queue of locals stretching out into the square giving us decidedly baleful glares. 

Leaving towards Brantome in near freezing conditions we took our customary wrong turn on the outskirts of the town but, making a virtue of necessity, continued on the wrong road for a further 10km before taking a cross country route, cutting a trail through the cowpats on small C (or possibly D or E) roads to rejoin the correct route.
The road rolled along through woodland, small farmsteads and quiet hamlets. We were passed from time to time by ageing Renault and Citroën cars from the 1950s making us feel as if we'd entered a strange time warp. All was explained as we arrived in St Mathieu where a vintage car rally was under way with its attendant odours of petrol and fried food.
We far preferred the thought of the next town, Piegut-Pluviers, tempted no doubt by the prospect of a fine pie. No such luck. The usual gorgeous village with a large Mairie (town hall) was completely deserted. All at the car show perhaps. 

Not too much further on we had a much needed and sustaining meal in Nontron where we met up again with Ian and Jeanine from Oxford and Denver on their lightweight Co-Motion tandem with trailer in which they are carrying camping gear for a 5 week Brittany to Monaco tour.
What are the chances of three tandems at the same time on the same route? Quite high, obviously.
They rather put us to shame on the road out as they disappeared off into the distance while we plodded on weighed down by age, infirmity,  beer and steak frites.

Brantome, our next stop, is a fine medieval town on an island in the river Dronne which is anchored by 12 bridges to the mainland. No sooner had we arrived than helpful locals, eager for our custom, surrounded us and ushered us into the Hotel Coligny, a most excellent establishment, and eager for our custom. We could see no reason to disoblige them and, following brief ablutions, we stepped out for a tour of the environs.
Most of the town is built of white limestone and many of the buildings retain their original form and features. The Hôtel de Ville with a frontage of almost 100m overlooking the river would not be out of place in a city of several million.
For some reason known only to himself, and doubtless his Divine Creator, Jim insisted on taking a photo of me up Jacques Brel's Passage. 

This ridiculous interlude was followed by several minutes of sublime beauty as we watched a Kingfisher patrolling his stretch of river, occasionally diving for fish. Of the many tourists along the river we seemed to be the only ones aware of this display.
And so back to the hotel for our evening meal and, by now daily, discussion of the route ahead and ways of alleviating its likely rigours.
Kilometres travelled: 63
Injuries: rear end mischief
Mechanicals: 0