Up at 6am and it's still dark. An unbelievably good sleep considering the jaunty angle I was at. Probably the babbling water behind me soothing my inner workings. I did however wake up and reach for my water bottle and grab hold of a four inch slug instead. Incredibly I just shrugged and threw it away and went back to sleep. I couldn't touch one a few years ago. I had spied a concrete table that I passed last night and had breakfast there instead of at the waters edge. It tried to rain and the storm clouds were gathering but held off long enough for me to add one of my windfall apples to my usual start to the day. Hilariously I then find the real canal. Exactly as I imagined it and with loads of fantastic camping spots. Where I had stayed was more like a puddle. I head along the canal towards Tronville. Stevens doesn't think much of it. Not much to say either really. The storms are right behind me all morning. I start getting drizzled on and stop for a coffee under a bridge in the vain hope that it goes away. One of my luxuries that doesn't cost much is proper espresso coffee. Maddy's bro and girlfriend kindly donated me their mini mocha pot and armed with a fresh pack of Lavazza when leaving Blighty I can knock up a proper coffee in no time. Extra sugar helps with the powdered milk. I don't normally have sugar on anything at home but tea, coffee and breakfast all now receive a poured amount of white cycling powder. As I finish my coffee the rain stops and a pair of herons swoop down onto the canal. I've never seen two together before. :). I say bien peche as I pass. This usually results in a wave back. Next stop Void. Off the canal and back on the road. This time the heavens open and I decide to embrace the free wash whilst cycling. I take off my glasses and give my face a good rub whilst cycling. Everything gets a wash: me, the bike, my clothes and my sandals. It really hammers down for about 15 minutes then the sun comes out and all is well. I stop in a bus shelter for an early lunch and explore Void. Now off to Toul. En route I become a bit exhausted and decide to stop by the side of the road under a shady tree. I get my slightly damp kit off and lay it on the grass to dry, break open a baguette and have another feast. Nutella is the order of the day. Bloody glass jar, all that weight. I still cant manage to finish it though so back it goes for another day. I'm trying to eat everything I've got and then buy on a more frequent basis. I've been far too loaded up with spare food. Whilst I relax I see an eagle or something similar swoop around the valley and I get a few hoots from passing people at my clothes strewn everywhere in my rather unusual choice of picnic area. All refreshed and Toul delights as I arrive. Totally deserted old streets allow me to imagine what it was like back in the day. A huge cathedral and a fort must make this the biggest town Thomas would have visited since Paris. I get lost on the way out before finding the signs to the river path to Maron. Unlike the canal it's mainly quiet roads above the river Moselle with fantastic views down on to it. A quick pit stop for the ever vanishing water and I get all 3 bottles filled up. Normally I just have the two bike water bottles in the day but when it gets near camp time I get a 1.5l old water bottle filled up too for a bit of cooking and cleaning. Over the river I go and the path turns into a path, and what a path. Super smooth tarmac that winds its way along the river with a lake on the other side. A few families and holiday makers are out for a cycle or a roller blade or a buggy push. The path goes on for about 15km to Maron. Along the path I see some perfect camping opportunities so I make a note of how far I've gone so I can find it later. I have food, I have water, I have power in the laptop. One thing's missing on this beautiful evening on the river...beer! Although its a 15km round trip I head into Maron in search of a tipple. It's just too nice a place to not have one. Maron is small and nowhere is open. I ask a couple of old ladies sat outside their house if they know where I can get a beer. They laugh at my accent and point at closed establishments up and down the street. Ferme Ferme Ferme, vacances, vacances. One of the ladies asks me something and I say "oui" for lack of anything better to reply. She toddles off into her house and comes back with two beers. Pomme Bierre she keeps saying, I can't believe my luck and ask her how much but she waves me away. Then the other one asks where I am staying and I say in the woods, pointing to my tent. She gets my map out of its holder and points to a good spot along the river. I blow them both a kiss and offer as many merci beaucoups as I can. I cycle back to the spot I had seen and take up residence on my patch for the night. The first thing I do is change into my swimmers and jump in the river. This is truly the best place I've swum and camped so far. The river is wider than a football pitch is long and I even have a pre-made table. The water is cool but not cold, absolutely perfect. I have a swim around and look up to the bank and there is a big distance marker board. I can swim as far away as I want and not get lost. The rest of the evening is spent catching up on the blog and enjoying my two cold beers with dinner. They are Panache (Shandy) 1% alcohol and nothing ever tasted better. No wonder the old girls seemed concerned as to whether I would like them or not. I sit drying in the warm air on my mattress-come seat and take in the beautiful view.
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