In Tours I habitually visited the cathedral which took me longer than usual due to some excellent stained glass windows. Some panels were erected for the visitor to elucidate the depicted scenes, which was just as well, because it was difficult to make out anything on these high placed windows. Before I had read the explanations, I thought I could clearly identify some bishops with metal detectors, which seemed an unlikely combination.
This, however, was not the cathedral where St. Martin, the one famous for giving away half his cloak to a beggar, was buried. I missed that one.
Just south of the cathedral was the Museum of Fine Arts and I decided to treat myself. It was the first Sunday of the month and for that reason the museum was free. It exhibited paintings of Rembrandt and Monet, it had creaky floors and a suspicious guard following me around. It was a real museum. It also left me more exhausted than if I had cycled for 80 kilometers….
The day after, I set out for Chatellerault, or something, but in the afternoon it started to rain. I also had to deal with a persistent headwind that made sure I got all the rain in my face. I put on my raingear, but in the end I was soaked. I had to make haste as it was getting late in the afternoon and I don’t carry lights, making cycling on the road in this weather a hazardous undertaking.
In the end everything turned out alright. The caretaker of the campsite put a small, albeit dishevelled, caravan at my disposal, so I could keep my bags dry. It could also serve as a dry place to cook. It was too dirty too sleep in, however, and so I pitched my tent nearby.
Later I cycled through the pouring rain to get some groceries. Then, after I had done all my chores, it stopped raining.
No pictures. I didn’t make any.