We see fishermen more than any other people. The canal roads we ride are closed to motorized through traffic except Fishermen are permitted to drive in and park to fish. Each fisherman will generally have four poles. They have racks to hould all four over the water. Each pole is maybe twelve or fifteen feet long. Carbon fiber is the prefered material. We have yet to see any evidence of anyone catching a fish. Passing through the tiny village of labruyere, we saw a sign welcoming Eurovelo 6 riders outside a kind of bar. Inside we met an Australian lady who wound up in France (Michele sniffed it out; the lady had followed a man to France and then she stayed while the man didn't). It's surprisingly hard to find my beverage of choice (Diet Coke, or, as it is known here, Coca Lite). Diet drinks of any stripe don't seem to be popular here. My real reason for stopping at the bar was to pick up a bottle of Coca Lite for our picnic lunch. The Aussie lady apologized for not having any, but then recalled that an Aussie friend of hers had entrusted a cache of Pepsi Zero in her refrigerator. She sold me two of those. My life of crime continues: receiver of stolen property. Riding along the canal into Dole, we missed a good photo opportunity. There was a row of teenage boys hanging onto the outside of the railing of the highway bridge over the canal. At intervals, one of the boys would find the courage to jump twenty feet into the canal. Alas, we were past the scene before thinking of taking a photo and too tired to go back. In Dole tonight, we visited the impressive cathedral. In one of the side chapels of the cathedral, there is unsurprisingly a memorial naming the sons of Dole dead in each of the World Wars. One of the large paintings shows Jesus blessing dead soldiers on the battlefield. What surprised me was that there were dead soldiers fallen facing both ways, as though Jesus were blessing the fallen from both armies! That would be a magnaminous gesture, and perhaps even theologically sound in that infantrymen on both sides were no doubt told that God is pn your side, but not a gesture I could conceive of the French making in the aftermath of the war. The next chapel also took me by surprise, listing a dozen or so names of religious figures killed during the Revolution. Some were guillotined, others just dead in prison. I never thought about the religious as victims of the Revolutionary fervor.