Cahors

Well the rain that started yesterday, continued into the day today, so, after a frugal breakfast, off we went into the wet and the cold.

Being a Sunday, many of the sights we wished to visit En Route were closed.

And being a miz day, we cracked on towards Cahors.

After the first 90 minutes of cheerless, but thankfully, incident free riding, we found a suitable spot for our elevenses.

Earlier, as we set off, we purchased some rustic items to carry with us, some fromage chevre, 

saucisson, pain and roast poulet. We had envisioned a rather picturesque picnic spot, in a leafy glade, sun breaking through the trees somewhere. But due to the bad weather, we pulled in under the awning of a disused petrol station, on the main road.

Although grim, at least still Al Fresco, and it offered some shelter from the incessant rain.

 It was at this point I discovered, that, although my left boot had retained its ability to keep out the water, the right one had not.

I poured out a pint of water from my dripping boot, and put the drenched sock on the engine to dry and tucked into our delicious roadside snack, accompanied, not by a grumpy piano player as we were on the ferry, but the roar of the traffic.

But nonetheless,  a welcome break from the rain.

Of course no way was my sock anywhere near dry;  thankfully, I had a new pair, and to save me from a further soaking, the plastic carrier bag in which our lunch came served as a waterproof covering for my right boot.

I may not be looking my most hip and trendy of the chic biker image, but  at least I was dry for the rest of the day.

We stopped briefly at Oradour Sur Glane.

In 1944 the soldiers came, they put the women and children into the church, from where they could hear their men being shot, then they died too. 642 men, women and children.

Their village destroyed.

Oradour Sur Glade was never rebuilt

After a coffee, and time for reflection, headed directly to Cahors.

Our hotel is on the banks of the river Lot overlooking the old town, and fortified Valentre Bridge.

Cahors is on a bend on the river and on a peninsula, a very important town back in the day, and was an area that saw a lot of action in the 100 Years War.

Cahors was attacked by Sir John Chandos, one of the commanders who led British troops in the Battle of Crécy, where The Black Prince, commanding the army, was only 16. Years later, he drew the battle plan that led to the English victory at the Battle of Poitiers in 1356 .

As a reward for services, Chandos was appointed lieutenant of France, vice-chamberlain of England, one of the founders of The Order of the Garter and constable of Aquitaine and seneschal of Poitou .

Upon his death, he was mourned by the English and French alike.

We arrived in Cahors cold, wet and running late, so no time to walk around the town looking for a local bistro. After a long soak to bring the blood back to warmth in a tiny bath, we ate at the hotel restaurant.

Cahors is a wine region and famous for its deep reds, predominantly  Malbec. Of which we enjoyed a couple of bottles with our evening meal, then wearily off to bed, in the hope of better weather tomorrow.