APT 2. Snow in June

(Dordogne Cycle Touring 2/6):

The weather forecast promised perfect cycling temperatures for the June weekend reserved for our first, 2-day session of Abandoned Parent Training (APT).

Our destination was the Dordogne – but not the touristy areas of Sarlat and its surroundings. We chose to explore the Dronne valley. This minor river runs in a southwesterly diagonal south of Angoulême and north of Perigueux through (or near) settlements such as Brantôme, Ribérac and Aubeterre-sur-Dronne.

We chose the River Dronne because it was on the page of the map book when we opened it. Also, it seemed to be rural and without particular interest: perfect for peaceful cycling without tourists. We chose our campsite in the same way. The village of Lisle appeared to be large enough to have a bakery and charcuterie for picnic supplies, and the campsite was small.

On arrival, we weren’t disappointed. Lisle is a quiet village and the campsite lay between a pétanque court and the Dronne river, which is about eight metres wide at this point. We pitched our tent in the furthest corner.

And that’s when it started to snow. Look! Within minutes, it was everywhere.

We tried to catch some and keep it to show the kids, then remembered we were on APT training and shouldn’t be thinking about them, about how they were busy studying and learning life skills. They certainly wouldn’t be thinking about us. The snow seems to be pussy willow blossom but maybe you can correct me?

Our major discovery on this part of the Dronne river came on Friday evening, before we’d even mounted our bikes.

A couple of weeks before our trip, some friends had told us about a cool place to hang out on the River Dronne. It was called La Guinguette de Rénamont. Those particular friends are also cool, so we suspected we’d like it.

Are you familiar with guinguettes? They’re a basic riverside bar/restaurant with outdoor tables, festive, often temporary and open only in the summer. I think they might be my new passion.

As usual, we only had a large-scale map with us, which is why we decided not to risk cycling and getting lost in the night time (we’d forgotten our bike lights). Instead, we drove to Rénamont. This was just as well, given that we found it at the end of an unlikely track about a kilometre long and down a steep hill.

What a find! It’s the kind of place where customers talk to each other, where you don’t have to dress up, where people bring their guitars, where you can swim in the river, play pétanque and make new friends.

Needless to say, we dropped our plans for a campsite dinner of tinned lentils. Instead, we ordered food and – after a long discussion about kefir and fermentation with the barmaid – a couple of glasses of the local beer.

The beer in question came from a brewery in nearby Marsac called BAM – Brasserie Artisanale de Marsac – and was delicious. We’d have loved to drink more, but we were driving. At least, my partner was.

“Would you like me to drive?” I offered.

He hesitated and then refused. I thought he might suggest buying some bottles to take back to the tent but he didn’t, though I did notice a gleam in his eye.

I should have paid more attention to that gleam. Why? Come back tomorrow and you’ll understand.