Road trip with no plan

There had been a plan - to drive to Poitiers but to adhere to all the usual Road Trip rules - see older post, somewhere, i.e tangents of either person's requests, like following a disused railway for a while, or stopping to gawp at a garden full of plastic gnomes, etc, but, the weather (January not being ideal for RT) appeared to be more biting and frost laden towards the west, so we looked eastwards and set off, carefully, eastwards, with no plan.

After passing various previously explored areas we reached Baugé en Anjou, delightful ancient small town and with open café - many places were shut, and why not on a freezing day just after New Year. We had a hot chocolate and wandered the deserted streets and back lanes until the car and its warmer interior beckoned. After passing through various other small towns and villages, the realisation that food might be an issue, having only bought a flask of tea, we called in at a bakery and bought deux baguettes typique of ham and cheese - this is like coke (the brown stuff) to me, just once or twice a year, a treat of processed cheese and dubious ham enrobed in chewy white bread, almost zero nutrition but so tasty. 

As with all good RT, we turned right and drove down a gravel track where rather than a disused spoil heap or landfill site there was a magnificent lake, unannounced and deserted. We munched, drank tea, and observed white egrets and the reflection of winter-bald trees - one of those memory forming moments in time. 

After walking along a grassy lane which followed the lake's outline, we continued on our non planned route ending up at a river side village named Cheffes where a huge water mill - which had been a manufacturing hub of pencils - looms over the river Sartre and surrounding buildings. We walked, enjoying the afternoon sun flickering on the fast flowing mill water, past a pristine looking lock house and into the green pastured countryside. about the point we stopped to look back over the village I realised it was probably time to return home as the roads would start icing up again, and Mark would be waiting to feed us Borscht soup as he had promised, and play cards in front of the fire.

One of my absolute best Christmas presents was a small plasticky camera sold for kids to mess about with but for me is a gem of recording the passing of time in a most interesting way. Unlike polaroid, the camera regurgitates small pieces of 'till' paper with a satisfying mechanical whirring sound, and there set in time, a grainy multi tone black and white image rather like something you would find in a grandparents' album of their youth. A cross between photography and a sketch. Something to stick in a book rather than hoard unconsciously on a phone to then possibly lose either through human forgetfulness, or collapse of the internet.