20261008. Corre to Scey-sur-Saône-et-Saint-Albin. WET. Wet. Wet. Wet. I definitely need to update my raingear game.

Patti here. We have been so lucky on this trip: Thursday’s ride from Corre to Scey-sur-Saone-et-Saint-Albin was our first day of truly wretched rain. (Below, a cow, oblivious to the rain and mud.)

We left the farmhouse gite in drizzle, and rode 2-1/4 hours through unrelenting rain (hence no photos) in order to get to the second of John’s booking.com reservations, “Maison du pecheur”, a completely charming small house on the side of the Saone.

Unfortunately when we got there la dame menage was mid-cleaning and as soon as she took a look at us – dripping wet, lips blue with cold – she said she would depeche and text us as soon as she was done. We dumped our muddy panniers in the front hall and headed to a cafe we had spied on our ride through town. Madame de la menage needed an hour and a half to finish. We respected that. Of course.

Below: don’t let the smiles fool you. We are soaked through to the bone.

We lingered over our espresso/cappuccino and two tartes aux pommes – which the owner of the cafe warmed up for us – for an hour, made a quick trip through the Carrefours next door to pick up bread and cheese, and then headed back to the “Maison du pecheur”. We were lucky to be able to fold up the bikes (this time without anyone putting his back out – poor darling) and pull them through the gate and stow them inside the walled garden on the Saone. (It was as beautiful as it sounds.)

We had lengthy hot showers (I should add that by this point I couldn’t even feel my fingers or my toes, we had been stopped, and soaking wet for two hours). We rinsed, wrung and hung (on much appreciated heated towel racks and radiators) our soggy clothes. Plugged in all batteries needing charging.

I’m not kidding, the place was darling, and the guest book included many enthusiastic reviews from people from all over Europe. (No other Canadians, tho’.)

I think we were a little cold-shocked at this point but by around six we had defrosted so we walked the kilometre to a recommended restaurant along a beautiful path beside the road.

The sun had come out, and the river was beautiful.

I love the light at that time of day.

The sunshine was so golden it was hard to believe that the skies had been so rude, earlier.

We hoovered dinner. (Comfort food chicken for me, and perch for John.) Walked back along that same path in the dark, and climbed into bed.

Long, wet, cold days are why we decided to head south and avoid Scotland/Ireland/Wales/England, knowing that our travel months were typically wet months in those countries. Still, rain is inevitable. We know how to deal with it. But, seriously, when I get back to Canada, I am going to borrow the expertise of my pal Jasmine, and get myself some hardcore raingear. Enough is enough.

(Addendum: I always stop to talk to cows. These ones watched us walk to dinner, and then, on our way back in the dark – using the flashlight on my phone – I thought I could see huge white boulders where they had been, earlier. Nope! It was the cows, now lying down, and fast asleep. Shhhhhhhh….)