Google was mean again to us today.

We had planned to go to Chateaubriant which was 53 kms away. She started by sending us down a main road with big trucks barrelling past and no shoulder to cycle on. After about 15 minutes of agonising cycling I told Mike I would not be following this for the next 53 kms and we pulled over to look for an alternate route.

We’d met a couple of English cycle tourers at the camp the previous night and they said they are following a book which navigates them through picturesque paths off the main roads all the way to Nice. I wish we had’ve gotten details from them.

Anyway, I found a route on my phone which would take us off the main road. We just had to cope with another 1.5 km. Just before we turned off four big trucks rumbled by and I decided I would do whatever it took to stay off this road.

As we turned off Mike noticed a dead end sign. I didn’t care, I’d be doing whatever it took not to go back on that main road. I’d push my bike through fields of ticks if need be.

We cycled along a nice tarmac surface, no other traffic about. Then the road turned to dirt and we suddenly appeared to be cycling through somebody’s farm. I thought, here we go, dead end ahead. I stopped to take a photo of some horses in the paddock when I noticed up ahead that Mike had been pulled over by a man on a tractor.

I pushed my bike up towards him as the angry man on the tractor pulled away.

“We’ve got to go back,” Mike said.

“Back on the main road?” I said, remembering my vow not to go back there.

“Yes, this is private. The man on the tractor said we can’t ride through here.”

I showed Mike my maps. “But Google is sending us this way.”

“It doesn’t matter. This little section is private and he is watching to make sure we don’t go through here .”

I looked ahead and it was only 50 meters through their private property to the road on the other side. I heard voices to my left. There were two men inside the property talking.

“I’m going to ask those men,” I said, hoping they might be nicer to a girl. “Come with me to translate.”

Reluctantly Mike followed, constantly looking back, worried that tractor man would reprimand him again.

I explained my situation to the two men in my best English, showing them my map and how I did not want to go down the main road.

“C’est prive” he said in his best French. Clearly my best English wasn’t getting through to him. Mike then had a go in his best French asking if we could walk our bikes 50 metres through their property to the road on the other side.

“Oui, no problem,” they said.

Phew, we were out the other side and on our way.

It was far more relaxing cycling through fields of corn. We stopped in a small town and had a coffee at a restaurant overlooking a magnificent church with an intricate steeple. It donged while we were there and made our day.

It was one of those days where Google kept trying to send us back on the main road, and us fighting back. We decided to give up on navigating to Chateaubriant and navigate to a campground in the general direction we were heading. Just to be sure we were going the right way, Mike navigated on his Garmin and I navigated on my phone.

But this is where the problems began. Mike’s Garmin would want to turn us left but mine would want to go straight ahead. Then mine wanted to go right while Mike’s wanted to go left. Not only were we fighting with the gadgets, we were now fighting amongst our selves. Our phones were annoyed we weren’t listening to them and had turned us against each other.

After a few terse words backwards and forwards, we found solace on the church steps. We sat down for a break, ate our quiche Lorraine’s and regrouped.

Relaxed and well fed, or fed up, we took another look at where we wanted to go. It turned out we were both navigating to different campgrounds!

We both decided to go to my campground, but after about 10kms it told us to turn right. No longer trusting Google, we stopped and checked. Just as well we did and it was trying to send us back onto that stupid main road!

We ignored Google again and went straight ahead and were transported into a stunning medieval town. Why would Google want us to miss this? We sat and marvelled at the wonky chocolate rippled buildings, trying to forget that we were trying to head south whilst adhering to my vow earlier of avoiding that main road.

There was a campground about 20 minutes ride away but it was only 1pm and we decided it was too early to stop. We tried to find a route south, but all roads led to that dreaded main road. By this stage I was feeling exhausted and felt like an afternoon nap. Mike was getting grumpy because he wanted to keep moving.

After about an hour of procrastinating in this picturesque town, the bakery opened and I bought us a couple of pastries. These were like the elixir of life, giving us the boost we needed to make a decision. We decided to head to the nearby campground as it was now 3pm and a good time to stop for the day. Turns out it was the campground Mike was initially navigating to.

It’s a small municipal campground in La Guerche-de-Bretagne and is only costing 11 euros per night. A man keeps hovering around us and our tent, so if you don’t hear from us tomorrow, send help.