44.1 mi / 11.6 mph / 305 ft. climbing
Home: Remi’s AirBNB

Late September is the time of year when day-length shrinks the fastest, so even though 8am is far from an “early” start for us historically, it was a surprise that we nearly beat the sun up and out of bed. We were due for one of our longest distances in Europe so far, and knew that we had to make it to a grocery store before their Sunday noontime closures here in France. But we were gifted more-favorable conditions that we’ve had in days (cool 55°F temperatures, mild tailwinds), so we actually got to the store just 15 minutes after it opened (covering the 15 miles at a 12.7mph average speed).

As we left the small village of Saint-Mathurin, stocked with the day’s groceries, we faced our first of several streets that were closed for their respective village’s Sunday Markets. At this first one, we were early enough that it was no problem to just ride through, and the only activity was a “band” warming up that featured a ~70-year-old woman standing on a stump playing trombone, and a young drummer playing wild jazz figures. Too bad we didn’t have time to stay for their actual performance, but as we changed clothes a bit down the road, it was cool to have the oddly-epic music echoing down the riverbank as a soundtrack to our day.

We stopped to eat our packed lunch where the Maine River comes down from the city of Angers. Afterward, some headwinds, frequent turns, rough trails, some actual hills, and bumpy roads made for a slow exit from the populated area, leading Rett to fear a struggle the rest of the way. But with the return of trees and a decent angle against the wind, we eventually got back up to cruising at 11-12mph, and reached our AirBNB at a recent-record-early time of 1:30pm (and thankfully our hosts allowed self-check-in that early). That would have almost been early enough to beat the Montjean grocery store’s closure of 1pm!

On our third day of riding in a row, Rett was too exhausted for an excursion, but with our place being just down the block from Montjean’s hilltop church, I went out for a little exploration after dinner. I ended up wandering back down the hill, to discover too late that the high-tech vending-machine court we had passed on the way in contained one machine with “normal” products (which meant Rett could have had something to drink more-exciting that tap water with dinner), in addition to the ones selling charcuterie platters, fine cuts of (raw) beef, and pizzas (cold or piping hot, to your preference). I guess in these small towns where there isn’t a ton of economic activity, employee-less operations can be pretty helpful, and especially on Sunday afternoons/evenings when the stores that exist are closed anyway.