Relaxed though we may appear to be, we have a deadline fast approaching - that holiday in Riga!
There is nothing quite like a holiday to induce stress and we do need to be in Paris to catch a plane in ten days time, which of course means finding somewhere secure to leave our home, and preferably somewhere with access to a rail link. Montbeliard seems to fit that bill nicely, but we are to achieve that, we are going to have to face up to the challenge of averaging an astonishing four kilometres per day, for the rest of the week, so alas we felt forced to push on, to leave the tranquility of Ranchot and once again ventrued out to brave the river, stoically holding our course steady all through the morning in the discomfort of Ron and Robin's wake.
We haven't done mornings for a while, and reluctantly have to admit that it's quite nice choofing off at eight, steaming coffee in hand, bowl of muesli on the lap watching the last of the morning mist rise among the hills and trees in the distance. Reluctantly, because the other option is also quite nice. It does also mean that we have a fair chance of arriving somewhere at ten minutes to lunch time, although on this day it was more like ten minutes to ice-cream time.
Ice cream could well be a magic salve to take away the aches of a long and arduous river journey we thought, so there'd be no harm in seeing if it worked after a short and easy one.
It took a long and arduous walk in ever increasing heat though before we realised that we had failed entirely to find a supply of the magic stuff. The only commercial premises we could find in the three villages we explored was a garden centre which sold gnomes and mermaids with fountain nipples and Balinese doors made in Portugal, which in a strange way was much more refreshing than having an ice cream anyway.