(Dordogne Cycle Touring 4/6):
Our first Abandoned Parent Training (APT) weekend could be summed up with the saying ‘All Roads lead to Rénamont’, followed by ‘Especially when my partner is in charge of the map’.
Today, Sunday, I was determined that we would cycle further than yesterday’s 13km, a plan that seemed entirely possible given that we weren’t in the least saddlesore. We had to drive home that evening but most of the day was free for cycle touring.
I took charge, which meant that the tent and most of our belongings were packed into the car before we left for the day’s explorations. Wasn’t that efficient? My plan was to cycle in the opposite direction to Rénamont.
Our circuit took us along more little lanes beside the River Dronne, past plantations of walnuts – which grow everywhere in the area – until we arrived a watermill museum called La Maison de la Dronne near the village of Tocane-St.Apre. We stopped to explore, disappointed to find the exhibition on watermills closed, due to Covid.
We continued up the hill on the opposite side of the river – a safe distance from Rénamont – and cycled towards the château of Fayolle and its viewpoint across the Dronne valley.
The cycling was pleasant, but we made no interesting discoveries during the ride. So when my partner suggested we abandon the south side of the river and visit the village of Montagrier instead, I agreed.
Then I looked at the map. Montagrier was dangerously close to Rénamont.
But I was in charge today.
I’m glad we changed routes. Montagrier is a pretty village on a hill, with an outlying church that has a wonderful avenue of plane trees leading to it, coupled with a great view.
Time was passing and, after a coffee on a terrace in Montagrier, we continued in a loop back towards the campsite. I kept my eye on the map and when we reached the turning to Rénamont, I rode blithely past it. I don’t think my partner noticed the signpost. We even managed to beat the previous day’s 13km by, well, by 8km, making a grand total of 21km for the day. It was lucky we were doing APT and not fitness training.
The gain of time by not stopping at the guinguette meant we had time to visit a walnut farm shop. When we entered the barn, the smell of concentrated walnut was incredible. Even better, the farmer kindly took time to demonstrate his traditional method for making walnut oil.
And so it was that, surprisingly, we brought home walnut oil rather than BAM beer. I was expecting our children to be pleased – after all, walnut oil is a wonderful ingredient for cooking. But they seemed disappointed. As for their weekend of practising life skills, their friends must have taken home the results, because there was no sign of a meal waiting for us on our arrival.
Six months later, we still have half a bottle of walnut oil left. Each time I open it, my senses are flooded by memories of our first weekend of APT training at Rénamont Lisle.
As for our second APT weekend, which took place at the end of July 2020, I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.
Harriet Springbett's playground 