A lateish start (no John to cajole us) and a somewhat slow day punctuated by stops meant that only 240 miles were covered, leaving something of a marathon for tomorrow should we decide to aim for home.
One fuel stop gave a chance meeting with a Frenchman's Gold Star, which Lance approved of.
Little progress and a very dry day led us to a posh campsite on the Loire. Desperate for a cold beer, a re-enactment was called for.
Ice Cold in Chartres
It's a tough life.
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