Manche to Med Me-and-'er or 2x2xTandem
Monday, 21 September 2015
Fair stood the wind for France - well England actually.
Friday, 18 September 2015
The sun also rises
Day 20
The Sun Also Rises
Not Pamplona but Le Grau du Roi, a seaside resort 7km from Aigues Mortes, to which we cycled on the last full day of our journey. Le Grau turned out to be an amalgam of Clacton and Morecambe but with much better weather and warmer sea into which we plunged having taken a tour of the yacht marina to admire the boats and scoff at the owners.
The sea was warm and everything had a very Mediterranean feel to it. Not altogether surprising.
The Camargue has its own form of bull fighting in which the bull is the hero and the matador risks his life.
No deaths happily but one arm injury required an ambulance and one young man had his trouser seat ripped open uncomfortably close to his more sensitive parts.
Following our trip back to Aigues Mortes we had our Last Supper in the old medieval walled town and, back in our hotel, finally consumed most of the whisky that Tom had gamely lugged through France.
Km cycled: 38
Metres climbed: nil
Mechanicals: nil
Injuries: two nasty head injuries sustained (Jim & Tom) while being escorted from nudist beach.
Into the Camargue
Two days for the price of one
Vallon Pont d'Arc to Chateauneuf du Pape.
Looking neither to spare the rod nor spoil the child Helen and Verity had Jim and Tom out of bed and breakfasted (Fig and Nut Jam stands out), teeth brushed, bags packed and bills paid before the town was awake though not so early that they couldn't buy supplies from a surly and mustachioed lady baker to sustain us en route.
Having walked to the Pont d'Arc the previous afternoon and familiarised ourselves with the route there was none of the usual blundering around back alleys.
We got on the road, our route out of town impeded only by a horse that had escaped from the nearby Retraite des Chevaux (home for elderly horses) and was making a bid for freedom - doubtless spurred on by memories of past triumphs at Kempton Park or perhaps Longchamps.
Passing the Pont d'Arc we then had a 5km steady uphill drag at a nearly intolerable 10% gradient, burdened as we were by luggage and imprudent overindulgence in fig jam.
As had we, since it had long become apparent that the gentle tandem saunter down the Ardèche was in fact an exhausting 20km mountainous marathon.
We finally crossed the Ardèche at St Martin d'Ardèche and crawled beaten and hungry into Aigueze,
, one of the 156 (why 156?) Plus Beaux Villages de France, where we repaired the damage of the previous stage with quiche and Pruneaux d' Agen. The entirely predictable effects of the latter on some of the group delayed our departure.
The afternoon proved easier: flat riding along the Rhône powered by apple pie from a café in Pont St. Esprit, served by a tattooed and multiply pierced waiter, followed by a crossing of the Rhône at Caderousse where we watched the river in spate after recent floods.
The final drag up the hill against the wind into Chateauneuf was almost unbearable but we were cheered up on arrival by meeting Julia Pearson and Keith England who had come over to meet us from Nice and who joined us for a drink at the splendid "Wine B&B" on Ave Charles de Gaulle before we all had dinner at La Mère Germaine.
Km cycled: 87
Metres climbed: 880
Mechanicals: 0
Injuries: the usual
Chateauneuf du Papes to Arles
A sense of déjà vu all over again as we stocked up with another surly boulangère and then retraced our steps of the afternoon before. Crossing the Rhone we turned Left and zoomed along the West Bank passing fields of grapevines
being picked by hand (= expensive wine ) and by mechanical tractor thingy (= cheapo wine). Arriving in Avignon for coffee we were astounded to see the "Pont" which is in fact only half a bridge not actually making it all the way across. And this was before the EU.
From Avignon we battled against the headwind through the flat roads arriving with lots of traffic near the big prison. Not a good start but found a handy small hotel and booked a Landrover safari into the Camargue courtesy of the helpful Tourist Info lady.
The Arena was wonderful and we saw a scallop shell set into the stone. Yes it's yet another point on the way to Compostella. It was all set up for the last bull race of year in a few weeks. They use small Camargue Bulls and the idea is to run away from the Bulls - sounds French to me.
Dinner in the old city was followed by a gentle stroll by The Rhone to our hotel.
Km cycled 77 M climbed 367 Injuries 0
Monday, 14 September 2015
The Big Sleep meets the French Connection
Rest Day in Pont d'Arc. Day 16
Saturday, 12 September 2015
The Beast of Gevaudun
by Thos. Smollett, Esqre, Surgeon
M. le Curé, a man of most excellent parts and a possessed of a keen and Philosophickal intelligence, had himself witnessed the recent outrage on the coach. While we listened in rapt and horrified Alarm he told us how he had seen the Beast descend on the coach and seize its Occupants. Whereupon the Beast did set a table laid about with fine Damask Linen and did set about his neck a white Napkin and did then devour the Coachman and his Postillion, two horses and the four passengers and did then release a most pretty and polite belch at the Conclusion of his Repast.
My Valet Thomas did spend much of the night in Discourse with the Blacksmith and on the Morrow we did discover two most pretty Conveyances which had been fashioned from Iron and Leather. In place of the horses he had determined on using the only other source of motive power at our disposal viz that supplied by the firm young thighs of Mistress Verity and her Maid Helen,
We did leave our Lodgings with many an "Huzzah!" shouted by the Populace who gathered to watch our Progress and to marvel at the Achievements of Natural Philosophie.
The Blacksmith did say in parting that he had heard say of similar Machines which had descended in a Race into Mende just this Summer and that they were made of Carbon. We gave no Credence to such a fanciful Notion as a Cycle-Machine hewn from Coal.
We made excellently rapid Progress through the hamlets of Monastère and Chirac and put in at a Coaching Inn in the town of Marvejols where we recruited our Spirits and Bodies with fine Coffee before setting forth on our Ascent of the Col de Goudard.
With the women powering us up the Hill we soon attained the Height whereupon Thomas did set about effecting a Portrait of all standing before the Summit marker a most difficult Undertaking as at every Moment the roaring Gale threatened to carry away the Canvas.
Then began a most perilously swift Descent to Mende made more Fearful by the absence of any form of Restraint on our headlong Progress. We arrived at the Expedient of employing a form of Grapple or Anchor such as is used in His Majesty's ships. And thus we arrived in Mende.
After a Halt for Refreshment we sallied forth towards Bagnols-les-Bains, a town not unlike Bath, where Gentlefolk may go for a Cure for the Gout and the Ague.
On this Passage we were Overwhelmed by a most Prodigious Torrent of Rain. Thunder and Lightning crashed all around the Peaks and we became Fearful for our Lives lest we be Drowned in the Deluge or perhaps taken Unawares by the Wolf.