The Mistral really challenged my patience during the night. You could hear the gust in the nearby trees and count the seconds for the gust to turn the tent into a twisting, bulging hallucinating mess. Not the most conducive sound and sight to help one get to sleep. Slowly the clocked ticked on and 7 arrived. Dressed ourselves and packed the tent, at least it had not rained during the night, small blessings. The tent required some firm handling to control its riotous antics and to stuff it into its ever shrinking bag. At least we were not in the middle of a thunderstorm, another blessing.

Off we went on our way to Mike and Linda in Arcais where we were going to be staying in their gite. Long motorway drive all the way to Niort, should be good, French motorways are typically uncrowded. Oh yeah every blasted French person and their dog seemed to have taken to the road today. The only time the road was quiet was during the long French lunch break. Bouchon after bouchon all the way to Niort. Even a brief respite at a motorway café was a let-down. I have always been impressed by the motorway cafes on the routes to Lyon and the Tarn, but this route along the South and then up to Bordeaux was the pits. The cafes were small, and crap, mainly serving drinks out of vending machines.

Turned off at Niort, and headed to a super market at Mauze-sur-le-Mignon and stocked up with food, which, with the prospect of a fridge, we could finally do. Arrived at Linda and Mike’s where they had supper and a drink awaiting us. A pork and bean stew with Toulouse sausages. Suitably replenished we went to bed in a very quiet, dry and windless gite. Bliss.