The night had been chilly, with heavy dew in the morning. Breakfast of chocolate pastries and coffee. Lovely sunny day. We wanted to walk to the Etang available for campers. So off we set on the short 1K walk. As we crossed the canal we saw the campsite owner’s wife, dog and another woman on the towpath. One woman was sitting on the ground and R became a concerned citizen. So we walked along the canal to investigate, our pretext being to look at the lock gates further on. The woman on the ground was an artist drawing the canal and bridge, madam was just there chatting to her. We continued to the lock gates. They were automatic hydraulically operated gates, much wider than UK locks. Like the railways, British canals were built on the cheap and are smaller than the continental ones.
We turned right here and headed out into the country with the intention of doing another right hand turn to get as to the target Etang. The tarmac road we were on was by far the worst road we had encountered in France. It still was far superior to most of the country lanes in Buckinghamshire! After walking across a stream and through a wood we were into open country, huge fields going on for miles. Next, we came across a marked Etang (on the map) on the left advertised as Carp fishing holidays. There were some fishermen, and they were English. On the right with no mention of an Etang on the map, was another stretch of water. Possibly a newer flooded gravel pit, all fenced off with permission for nothing including building. It though had one swan. Here we turned right along gravel road heading for our Etang, passing another Etang very overgrown around the edges, but with three swans.
We came to our Etang, all fenced off, so we walked along the side of it towards our campsite. We then came across the entrance. There seemed to be much redevelopment work going on. This Etang was for the campers, and allowed fishing, bathing, walking etc. The lake now seemed recently to have been divided into two and had a stoned beach created. We left, walked back to the campsite.
The afternoon was spent eating, Sunday lunch of pork. Alas not grilled as we were only on a 6 amp supply, but more stewed on the gas with beans and tomatoes. We spent the afternoon lazing and reading, then eating a cheese sandwich for supper. During the afternoon we both were amazed at the number of blackbirds inhabiting the hedges of the campsite. Not only blackbirds, but woodpeckers, who alas flew away as soon as a glass lens was produced.
Again, the birds provided a musical accompaniment as we ate. Once it was night, the bats and owls arrived.
The village has a pack of dogs somewhere, who decide to howl at irregular intervals. Also, being Sunday night the lorry traffic on the distant N road picked up and we could hear a distant but constant sound of traffic through the night.
