Thunderstorms all night. Despite the vicar blessing us the morning before, it all felt a little biblical. I drifted in and out it of sleep worrying about Pete and Harry floating away in their bivvy bags like logs down stream. Poor fellas. But they seemed in good spirits come morning.

We started a little later today. Popping into L’Eclerc for dinner supplies and then to a patisserie for breakfast in Neufchâtel-en-Bray. We stood on the road watching swifts fly overhead whilst munching on some pain au’s.

So far I am vibing mentally. Low screen time. Lots of nature. Birds galore.

We cracked on in high spirits but about 5 mins in Dave’s chain snapped. Woody powered to nearest bike shop and managed to get a chain. After 90 minutes we were off again but quickly realised it was now lunch time.

We cycled for a short while more and stopped at a roadside restaurant. It was empty but we had a good feeling. We were seated and learnt it was a local produce only affair, literally sourced from their house that we could see. We ordered burgers with local beef & cheese, accompanied by homemade chips and what must be the world’s freshest salad. Encroyable.

The owner and her partner then showed us around their garden, lined with huge polytunnels, bee hives, an apple tree, and rows of cucumbers etc… Pure living that had come from lockdown and YouTube videos they told us.

We left the lovely couple and no more than 10 mins later Harry had vanished and got a flat. 1 hour 6 minutes later the boys had finished fixing the puncture (after finding the new inner tube was actually a duff).

Then came the rain. We cycled relentlessly now having done 20km in about 5 hours, with another 60km to go. It was morale depleting weather, endless rain soaking each and every one of us, puddles rising above our pedals and drenching our shoes. But we persevered and made it to the campsite at 8.30pm in a rather sorry state.

It was such a sorry state that the owner who had given us the pitch for a discounted rate, decided to give us an entire static caravan for free. Divine intervention I reckon (thanks vicar).

We piled into the caravan. Turned on the boiler and cooked some grub. It was truly amazing what the owner had done for us. All I can imagine is she felt motherly towards us, sympathising with our stupidity in cycling across northern France in early May, seeing us as silly boys rather than reckless 25 year olds.

Been a long time since I’ve had such a smile on my face in a single bed. Bring on Giverny I say x