The day felt chilly at first and wisps of mist swirled over the surface of the canal. I chatted to the cycle tourists and then set off. I’ve done very little research so don’t know what to expect on this next section, it’s quite exciting.

The weed in the canal was all stretched towards me, suggesting there is some flow, which makes sense since I’m going uphill. Combined with the tricky portages, this made my speed quite low, but that’s OK, I’m in no rush.

The canal is very peaceful and quiet. Barges and motorboats were moored on the banks in places, most with no sign of inhabitants. Some looked sad, fibreglass green and rotting, slowly sinking. I passed only 2 boats in motion all day. The plane tree lined bank forms a green tunnel, just a slit of sky visible between. Fields of maize and sunflowers surround the canal, beautiful old farms where life still moves slow. The only sound to disturb the birdsong was gravel spitting under the tyres of cyclists speeding past.

I stopped at Hure for a baguette and ate it by a rowing club, the sun now shining. Later on, I heard an Australian accent behind me ‘aaahh you must be Dougal’. This was Bruce who I’d got in contact with through Warmshowers. Warmshowers is a free community for cycle tourists, with 185,000 members worldwide. Whilst on a tour you can ask members to host you, and it’s up to them what they provide – camping, a bed, a shower, food – but the main aim is to meet other travellers. In return, all you have to do is host when you get back home. Some people I stayed with while cycling around New Zealand have no intention of touring themselves, they just enjoy listening to the stories of travellers from around the world and learning their cultures.

It was a bit early to stop for the night, but it was great to have a cup of tea and chat with Bruce on his boat, Matilda. He has done my route many times so it was useful to get some tips!

I pushed on for another 15km and stopped at Villeton, where there was nothing but an agricultural museum and a restaurant. A group of old boys came over to play boule and it was a classic scene as they cursed and argued melodramatically. We got talking and they loved my adventure so kept feeding me crisps and champagne. There was a comic moment when one guy sat on my pot of porridge, covering himself. This was met with howls of laughter. Another memorable moment!