Civray campsite was fascinating for the number of British people passing through, or local resident and there to eat at the camp restaurant. Whenever I heard English I said hello curious to know their routes or their circumstances in being at this out of the way place.
One retired couple, he Scottish and she from Glouster were en route their frequent caravan holidays through France
Another couple were retired Prison Officers with a house in Kent and one in Civray. After several years of spending holidays in the area and without any French between them they’d bought their friend’s house and managed to navigate all the issues of living in France without any troubles. They mentioned a place I’d hoped to visit – Oradour Sur Glanne now a ghost town since the Germans had killed all the inhabitants during the Second World War. Alas it lay 50km direct to my east and now too far off my route for me to summon enthusiasm.
The following day, with the prospect of persistent front derailleur problems slowing me down, and with two bike shops nearby I decided to spend the day retuning the bike with the opportunity of spares close at hand if needed. Close inspection revealed the real cause of my bike problems; the outer front gear set had deformed outwards due to the chain constantly falling between it and the middle gear set under force. Once I’d managed to bend it back into shape I was ready to get back on the road early next day.
I began to reflect that after 1400km it was inevitable that any bike was going to get out of adjustment so didn’t blame myself too much for my choice of parts.
During the afternoon another English couple called into the camp restaurant and we chatted. They too had bought a holiday home in the area several years ago and had now retired here, though with the security of keeping their home in England, spending six months of the year in each. Their choice of the area apart from other things was the proximity to England with only four hour drive from the Channel Ferries.
Later in the day another lone long haul cyclist (French) arrived heavily laden, with a bike of similar configuration as my own – sturdy older frame and assortment of new bits from here and there. When I looked for him to chat at 8pm he'd long since hit the sack.
