I was treated to another day of La Vilaine, and it did not let up on its delights.
I followed my gut, and went to the tumbledown barn by the side of the river, in the middle of nowhere, with a handpainted sign “L`atelier Jus des Pommes”
Inside 20 people in waterproof overalls were pressing and crushing sacks of apples and bottling the juice. After being passed from person to person, my “Je voudrais acheter une boteille de jus de pommes svp” was eventually fruitful. I was shown through the factory floor to the adjacent barn, complete with bar, stage, tables and chairs and the atmosphere of somewhere that would be buzzing that evening. I was sold a bottle fresh off the press – I think I even got a discount as it hadn’t been labelled yet. I sipped my fresh juice, tasting the local apples bursting with every sip, wishing I could stay on to see what would happen here later.
I made it to Redon, where I slept near the canal, tucked up in a bivvy bag in an open patch of grass. I slept the best night I’ve had outside, despite the constant trickle of water from a nearby sluice.