During the past fortnight I’ve made my way down the west coast of France. The weather was initially hot by day and very cold by night. Whilst the nights have warmed up the days have been cooler - with insufficient sunshine to dry hand washed clothes. I’m now in a position to tell you how grateful I am that it’s unlikely I’ll run into anybody who knows me. (I could do with a long soak in a hot bath whilst my gear goes into a washer-dryer).

The past few days have been challenging. On June 6th (D Day) I came through Les Sables de l’Olonne. From 15 miles north of Les Sables to perhaps 30 miles south is one of my favourite portions of the Velodyssee. It was one of those days when grey clouds dramatically scudded across a sunny sky, somehow emphasising the beauty of the countryside.

There were marshlands - wonderfully wild and isolated. Later I cycled past fields of corn changing colour, regimental lines of maize a few centimetres high, and lush pastures where cattle chewed cud under the not-too-hot June sun. I saw my first vineyards (I doubt commercial - too small) and travelled through forests of pine prior to descending towards the coast again before Les Sables where I glimpsed a sea of turquoise with sets of white-tipped waves, several rows deep, rolling in towards a rocky foreshore.

That night I pitched tent at La Tranche-sur-Mer. The site was, I soon realised, less than ideal on a windy night. The pitches were pure sand: I’d pushed my tent pegs in - no banging required. And as for tightening the guy lines... when a violent thunderstorm hit in the small hours my poor tent flapped this-a-way and that-a-way without support. Little Dog slept soundly whilst I lay awake hoping the tent would hold.

Without Wifi I relied on my husband’s advice there was to be a period of calm in the morning before more stormy weather arrived. Up early I dropped the tent and was away by 7.30am. Dog walked. Pain aux raisin from a local Boulangerie eaten. It was miserably cold and squally. I slipped on my Sealskinz gloves ( the first time I’ve used them in more than 4000 miles of cycling through France).

Well the wind did indeed pick up. It more than picked up. I struggled to stop the bike blowing over during Storm Gregory. Of the 15 miles I managed on June 7th five were just pushing the bike during the most severe gusts and squalls (I later discovered the winds had exceeded 60mph). It was all I could do to keep the bike upright, never mind ride it. In better weather i might have taken a D road to a nearby town - but I was concerned lest I be blown into traffic. Hugging a sea wall I noted cyclists in the opposite direction ducking and diving behind bushes and clinging onto their bikes for all they were worth. Sea spume plumed overhead. We all had nowhere to go but onwards...

When I arrived at a camp site at La Tranche-sur-Mer I gratefully stopped for the day “It’s too dangerous to continue” I told the receptionist. Later I discovered 3 lifeboat men and the captain of a small fishing boat were lost at sea off Les Sables d’Olonne that day. Having come through the port just the day before words are insufficient to explain how affected I was...