Just two days into her antibiotic schedule, Nicky was feeling much perkier; it was time to move on. We left our rest spot in Abondance and returned back down the mountain. We had to revisit Thonon hospital for some follow-up blood work, as instructed. We parked easily in the empty hospital car-park and waited only a few minutes to see the specialist nurse, blood was extracted and we were away. This visit was more efficient and endurable than the first.
Being so close, we decided it would be unforgivable not to have a dip in the glimmering coolness of Lac Léman. There were two aires nearby, so we first headed to the nearest, set right on the lake shore. The road in was very narrow and busy with badly-parked cars and I, squeezing through at around 5mph, clipped wing-mirrors with an abandoned Land Rover. Stopping to check, their mirror was entirely fine, but ours had popped out and the bottom glass shattered. What a week we were having! We continued to the tight motorhome parking, a row of three diagonal spaces between the cars on the road, only slightly wider than the spaces surrounding them. We sneaked in and assessed the damage, and with super glue and sellotape managed to fix up the mirror enough to get by for now. We were metres from the water, so to relieve tension and soothe our minds, we changed and jumped straight in.
After a mind-chilling swim and a spot of downtime, we made our way west once more. We decided to stop at Lalleyriat, a recently refurbished aire by an almost-completed lake. There was a kid’s play park and a small sandy beach being enjoyed by a few families, although the weather had turned. It was now cloudy and grey, and they soon began packing up with disappointed looks. We walked a slow loop around the small lake then snuggled in for the night as the sudden arrival of heavy rain bombarded our roof. The skies were back to their usual clear and bright when we awoke, so we moved on. We passed through Nantua and Bourg-en-Bresse to stop by a private vineyard in the small village of Prissé, on the west side of Macon. A French Passion site with a wine shop, a perfect base for us.
The popular aire, spaciously housing only six vans, was also positioned directly on a voie verte leading into Macon centre, about 9km away. We passed two pleasant nights, and Nicky managed the casual cycle on the voie verte to Macon. We saw hilly fields of ripening vines, green and lush, on the way. Approaching the town we gravitated to the tall church before snaking through the central streets under the shade of brightly coloured umbrellas. We rolled along the riverfront as far as a municipal swimming pool in a leafy park, then doubled back to cross a stone bridge and view the city frontage from the opposite bank. Macon centre was a lively mix of old and new buildings, dynamic and discoloured, scruffy yet dignified, with the long promenade following the river bank by far the best feature.
We reluctantly dragged ourselves away from this comfortable, quiet spot and travelled on, with an extra 10 litres of tasty wine on board from the farm shop. We maintained our westward driving, this time stopping near to Moulins. We entered a huge barriered aire, with the look of an abandoned campsite, with the devastating cost of €0.10/hour. The site felt like it may be an occasional flood plain to allow control of the nearby river. The signs said it was meant for up to 90 vans, but there were 69 vans there the night we arrived (yes, we counted on an evening stroll) and still lots of space for another 60 at least. We walked to examine the tall bunds around the site, set under a high railway bridge spanning the site and running across the river. The rest of the day and evening we sat, enjoying the shade.
The next day we walked into Moulins under a blistering sun to see both of the twin-towered cathedrals. We walked the pretty streets searching out shade, and truly enjoyed the blissful coldness of the cathedral interiors. Everywhere was alight with vibrant flowering borders and hanging baskets. We crossed the main square where street cafés served customers crowded under red umbrellas and excited kids played in the shallow fountain waters. But the efforts of our short walk in such draining heat proved too much for the still-recovering Nicky, so we returned to base and spent a lot of downtime around Benny, sitting and chilling. The welcome rest in such a spacious, shaded aire was exactly what we needed, and definitely worth the €4.30 it eventually cost us when we rolled out two days later.
We moved on to Neris-Les-Bains, an €8/night aire with electricity, Wi-Fi, WC, shower and all services, a row of six spaces set just outside the gates to a large campsite. There was nothing available inside the triple-priced campsite that we didn’t have outside, except a three night limit, but we planned to stay only two. It was a short walk into a town that prided itself on keeping busy; a large poster listed all upcoming events – it had five or six listings per day throughout July; art classes, markets, dances, fairs. We helped ourselves to a French book from a sharing library box in a small flower garden before watching a display of music and dancing by elderly locals dressed in traditional costume. We passed the baths that feature in the town’s name, still a strong business interest, drawing in crowds.
The following morning we cycled to Montluçon along another easy voie verte, gently downhill all the way. We crossed high bridges spanning deep, lush valleys and rolled through occasional patches of deep shade from tightly-knitted overhanging trees. We were soon deposited into the busy centre’s roads at a small park and slowly cycled a loop of the medieval heart, stopping in each small square to look around. We found a modern golden hall beside an old stone church with a beautifully planted walled-garden behind. The streets were neat and clean, with several restaurants making their first efforts to open in expectation of lunchtime crowds. After visiting all the main streets, our eyes turned upwards to take in the domineering central château, its high defensive walls a prominent feature.
A short, steep ascent led us up to the stone and timber château, the main focal point above the town. It had a decorative clock tower and was hung with well-tended baskets of red flowers. We left our bikes against a tree and walked the perimeter walls, overlooking the entire town. Montluçon looked messy from above; the rear façades of the older central buildings were dirty and grey, their grimy shabbiness contrasting with their immaculately presented fronts. Outside the medieval centre, the town had expanded in too much of a hurry and in all the wrong ways, with dingy industrial units peppered throughout the landscape and garishly-coloured ugly tower blocks blighting the distant horizon. We passed the Hôtel de Ville as we left, enjoying their playful fountains in the empty stone square.
The next morning we serviced and left Neris-Les-Bains, for another short hop towards our new home. We were now near to Limoges, but still had a long weekend to wait out, and where better to sit out this achingly hot summer weather than at a large swim lake? Shady trees and cooling dips were calling us, and we could not ignore their cries.