Etape 20 Redon to Josselin

A very merry day on the Nantes Brest Canal. Not too hot, not too cold, no wind and a much improved surface of asphalt along the towpath.

All sorts of jolly things greet the traveller along the way like – what fish lie in abundance in the murky depths:

and – a tree of expectant cormorants waiting to swoop on the unsuspecting fish that lie in the murky depths:

About 15 miles into this idyllic cycle ride for weary pensioners we came across a beautiful island in the river/canal system called L’Ile aux Pies. Roughly translated this means Island of Pies which is where I should become a permanent resident given the state of my ever-expanding waistline!

We speculated that this might be the summer training camp for British darts players or possibly a foreign exchange location for Japanese Sumo wrestlers. However, if you have any better suggestions please let me know!

It was a day of much boat activity on the canal. Sunday afternoon drivers out for some recreational 7mph boating along a canal full of pesky locks that seem to just get in the way. In almost every case, the boat was being driven by the man with his jaunty sailor’s cap, proudly sitting astern with his head back and chin out looking very captain-like, and the woman at the front either draped over the prow in a sunbathing pose or disinterestedly reading a book with her sunglasses on. On the approach to the locks the chin-out skipper with the 5€ cap would bark instructions and the disinterested lady would wander about and gently waft a rope over a small capstan and call for help from the lock keeper (most of whom appear to be psychology students doing a summer job with plenty of study time between the occasional interfering and inconvenient boat ).

Hilariously, one hired boat which had a paunchy German (or Austrian) male skipper and two rather large white disinterested fraus up front, cruised into a lock system but sadly, for them, no French psychology student turned up to open the gates. Gotte und himmel, what is one to do. Skipper read all the French signage and twiddled a few lockside handles but nothing happened. We left them to their fate and rode on in search of a cold beer. They are probably still there with bloodshot eyes and red necks cursing and swearing with a five foot water level differentiation to negotiate!!

Tonight we are staying in a classic French chambre d’hote probably built in the late 18 century in historic Josselin. But what possesses the owner to buy such scary objets d’art as this? I mean, just look at their eyes. Possible second use as toilet brushes Might need them in the morning!

Finally, today’s competition- what is the collective noun for a large gathering of stone bollards huddling together in one place? A ‘beatification’ of bollards has been suggested by Mrs Nelson? Answers on a postcard please to Michael Aspel at the BBC.