An octogenarian goes cycling (Rousse)

My mother and I joined the main carriageway carefully – which is just as well because a large timber lorry had obviously not seen us on our bikes, and nearly took out the pair of us. We were heading north to V and C’s house to observe the enormous waves. In practice this was too ambitious a ride for my companion, now in her eighties.

After a couple of miles another cyclist approached us from behind and advised that we turn off just before the main T junction ahead of us. He showed us a cycle path to the left, which led to a gorge. We peeked over the ledge to admire the sandstone cliffs, and pulled back immediately. What a terrific drop! The deep, clear pool above the waterfall was more to our liking as a great bathing spot.

We broke our journey at a bed and breakfast that we knew from holidays of the past. My mother reimbursed the owner with a few stamps on behalf of my now-dead father. In doing so she repaid a debt of long ago.

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