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Another cloudy morning as we leave Rocamadour but the sun soon breaks through. The first bit of the journey is more winding roads but then open main roads with long climbs and descents - e.g. 4km at 5% gradient.
We drive through Figeac; it was a possible place for a visit but seeing the town we're glad we decided not to. Just beyond Figeac we stop at E.Leclerc hypermarket for some shopping. The drive continues through pretty countryside, changed now from mostly trees and gorges to corn and maize fields. The buildings have changed too; from stone houses of the Dordogne to plastered walls and orange rooves. Many hilltops have a chateau or tower to mark them and for the first time in ages wind turbines cast their ugly silhouettes across the horizon.
We stop for lunch in a shady aire at Bouillac, right beside the river Lot. It's a lovely spot but beside a busy road, so not a good night stop. While we're here we look up Passions and find one near Montbazens, 40-odd minutes away.
A narrow track brings us into a farmyard and face to face with a surprised farmer. We show him the Passion book and he draws us a rough map to the correct place. It's only a hudred yards away as the crow flies - or the GPS sees it - but two miles by road.
Arriving at the correct location we follow the green arrows and park in an idyllic setting behind the barn. Two small fields lead to a large lake. Around the lake are a variety of trees including a beautiful weeping willow. Swallows swoop around the fields and butterflies flit around the van. At the lake's edge an angler sits motionless between casts.
Madame arrives in her car and comes down the bank to meet us and Ali arranges a time to visit the shop in the morning, then we are left to a peaceful evening.
It occurs to us that this is the first time we have been alone on this trip. Every aire and Passion to date have been occupied by other vans, one of the diferences travelling in high season.
But tonight it is only us.
As the sun starts to drop the wind eases and the lake's surface takes on a glassy sheen. The sky turns red, birdsong dwindles and with no artificial light around the black sky fills with stars and the Milky Way. We look through the skylights, name a few constellations and slip off to sleep.
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