It was with some reluctance that I personally left the overnighting spot this morning because the arable land we'd overlooked included a few large areas of freshly tilled stony ground: the ideal habitat for stone curlews. I've banged on about this species before, it's been one of my 'must see' birds since I was literally a kid. They're a captivating and stealthy thing, and mainly crepuscular / nocturnal, so they're a difficult one to chance upon.
Knowing that the further north we moved, the less chance there'd be to see them was a stark reminder that this trip - in this particular regard - had been another fail. To be fair we were already realistically out of the game and the hours I'd spent scouring suitable habitat on the barren plains of Spain had already seen the best chances gone. At least it provided a suitable excuse to return! The Iberian peninsular represents a sea-change in flora and fauna compared with the rest of mainland western Europe and in this regard is calling strong for more exploration.
And so, to the day's recreational trudge north. It didn't start so brilliantly. We'd only been on the road for half an hour or so when we came upon (yet another) Route Barrée sign; with absolutely no indication how to traverse the affected section of extremely closed arterial route.
And so, we began to wing it around the small town of Beauvoir-sur-Niort on desperately tiny back roads and farm tracks with the twin hopes of: a) not getting stuck, and b) emerging north of the extremely closed section of road.
Would you believe it. As we drove past some bare arable land, two birds that I immediately knew were something unusual flew up, fluttered a hundred metres or so, and then landed again. I immediately stopped the truck, fumbled the bins to my eyes and boom! - a pair of stone curlews stealthily crouching, watching us watching them. What a result, and again, the serendipity of travelling was writ large.
I was still euphoric two hours later when we had to stop for fuel and grab some fresh bread. The day's good fortune actually continued as the Intermarché we'd stopped at had incredibly cheap diesel (for France) at €1.54/l: a full 12-15 cents cheaper than most other places we'd passed. As a bonus, the service area also had a truck-sized power washer where, €4 and ten minutes later, the considerable quantity of (by now hard-packed mud) we'd accumulated from many of Iberia's tracks and trails was on its way to being processed in a French water treatment plant.
A pleasant enough bumble north followed and by late afternoon we'd eked out the spot were now at - and intend to sleep at. It was a lucky find. The area around and about is very affluent and the vast majority of property is clearly very poshly private.
We're right next to a beautifully preserved and tended lock on a navigable river and the bit of land we're on is part of the (ultimately) state-owned navigation authority's estate. It's a lovely little feel-good spot overlooking - on the other side of the river - a small marina and a very old and characterful French hamlet with some very esoteric buildings (pic). As if that weren't enough - and again as part of today's massive bonus package - we happen to be right on a formal cycle trail that's over 600 kilometres long.
Of course we've hammered it! Well, a very small proportion of it, anyway.
A day of very fair fortune...
This post was composed at 22:05 on Tuesday 8th April from our intended overnighting spot N 47.70166°, W 00.66930° / http://maps.google.com/maps?q=loc:47.70166%2C-00.66930