25th Day

25^th Day

            Bonjour!

            Well that day has arrived, the last day of this year’s tour.  As in previous tours each day was filled with the excitement of the unexpected.  Of course the biggest alteration in my plans occurred with the long rain delay in Eymoutiers.  But there I was incredibly lucky to find a campground well suited for the delay.  

I was amazed at my loss of strength due to age.  This will be a marker for future tours.  Failure on the ascents was common; I became very willing to get off and walk even when I could have pedaled on.  I was disappointed but not angry since this fit the character of this tour; do less and see more.  I will change my training regimen to include exercises that maintain strength.

            Except for the occasional rain, the trip north was straightforward and uneventful.  Several of the towns were familiar from the year before.  There was a huge street fair in Matha filling many streets; certainly the equal of street fairs in Paris.

            The rain was coming down in Aulnay.  I found refuge in a large open garage where hopefully I could wait out the rain.  The barking dogs of the neighbors changed that plan.  After rigging for wet weather, I moved through the rain for nearly 10 minutes.  Fortunately it was not a heavy rain.  Moreover I did not mind getting wet since I could dry out Isabelle and Gerald’s. 

In the next town I found shelter under a very large cement bus stop where I took my lunch, homemade sandwiches of chicken, Brie, and tomato washed down with a tall can of beer. “Any port in a storm” was definitely applicable here.  Taking a picture would have broken the camera.  The shelter sat back from the street on a layer of aggregate.  Three large garbage bins, green, yellow, and black, were directly across the street.  In its defense I was hungry and it provided cover from the rain.

            There was nothing picturesque about this chain of farming communities.  There was an industrial greyness to all of the buildings similar to East Germany.  These were simple and hardworking buildings not influenced one iota by the tourist trade.  Neither a bar-restaurant, hotel, nor boulangerie graced the town.  There was a Church but it blended in with the dullness of the rest of the town.

            The charming towns on the tourist route have color.  The houses have been painted or power washed.  Flowers have been planted and lawns mowed.  There are parks filled with trees and picnic tables.  The invitation is obvious, we want you to stop here and to spend your money here.  Both you and your money are welcome here.    

In Chize I found shelter beneath the awning of the community building for a nice nap.  The road leading to Chize passed through a dense forest.  The road had more bumps and grinds than a burlesque show.  The road coming out of Chize had enough potholes to cause me to think that I was cycling in California.

            For the last 20 km, all of the towns were familiar finishing with Prahecq, Mougon, and Fressines.  Isabelle and her Aunt Simone were visiting her mother. Gerald was working on the roof of their planned outdoor space. 

            My older brother, Maury, wanted me to comment on my older bike.  The bike draws quite a bit of attention from older tourists.  It is a steel frame Michelin dating to the seventies.  At one time the famous tire company made bicycles.  In contrast to the modern cycle with it fancy gears affixed to the handlebars, the gearing levers are attached to the up tube in the classical way.  Last year, an Englishman who was very much into the history of bicycles shared that there are races in England where only these older bicycles can compete.  Some may remember Schwinn’s first attempt at European type cycles in the early sixties.  I actually bought the Varsity model with ten speeds for $100, a lot of money those days.  It was also steel framed but very heavy.  This bike is not heavy, obviously not as lightweight as the exotic models of today but noticeably lighter than the Varsity.  The two major plusses about steel are that steel is very forgiving unlike the current metals.  The current metals give a very stiff ride in comparison to steel.  And secondly, steel can be mended.  Twice I have bent the steel tubes on several bikes and have had them straightened at a machine shop.

Au revoir!       

             

  

24th Day

24^th Day

Bonjour!

            On to Cognac!  I left my little haven in Yviers at 9:30 and tried to follow the outlined route the rest of the way to Brossac passing through quiet farming villages like Bardenac.  Very few people are out and about; one or two older people sitting on their stoop and maybe someone hustling to the bakery.  In general, the streets are vacant.  The campground in Brossac was part of a huge open-air facility that included a ton of water activities, one being water skiing.

              From Brossac I mapped my own route to Cognac.  From the spider web of roads I selected roads less than major speedways but more than minor farm paths.  I made better time without having to check at every intersection.  Interesting that the last few days have been more like the previous tours, very linear riding for A to B and not taking time to see things along the way.  This makes sense since I must be in Fressines by Friday for Marie-Line’s wedding on Saturday. 

            I have been in Cognac three times and city has always struck me as an overgrown farming town lacking the usual elegance of a French city of this size.  The downtown area is confined to the shops and restaurants around a large roundabout with streets leading out like spokes on a wheel.  The chief attraction is the outstanding wines that are prominently displayed in dozens of shops.  Believe it or not Mr. Ripley but the “HARDY” brand is one of the most distinguished!  Not surprisingly, the museums featured the history of winemaking in the area.  There is a nice cathedral and huge chateau but they barely rate a passing note in the travel brochures.

            The campground was wedged between the Charente River hinting of peace and quiet and a busy road warning of noise until 11.  I had stayed here the year before and was still in their computer files.  In a strange symmetry, I was here on the first day of the ride last year and the last day of the ride this year. 

            Once again I could not access the Internet.  A note says that Java Script must be loaded on my browser.  Being technologically challenged I do not know what that means.  I am sure Charlie can explain this.

            I rested up for the big ride tomorrow, a sixty miler to Fressines.  I have been dawdling along doing 30 to 45 miles.  I wanted to go farther today however none of the towns between Cognac and Fressines had campgrounds.  Supposedly there was one 24 km out of Cognac but this was no longer open.  This only confirmed this a farming area and not a tourist area. 

            I did meet a Dutch couple in the campground who drove down from Holland.  They plan on parking their car at friends and do a bike tour for 50 days.  Another couple lent me their phone so that I could call Isabelle and let her know that I was within striking distance.

Au revoir!!!

23rd Day

23^rd Day

Bonjour!!!

            Strange night!  I moved three times trying to escape the glare of the lights and to find a flat spot.  The German couple took forever to quiet down. 

            The Dutch couple were up with me.  The husband was more sociable in the morning mentioning that they would be off seeing a boyhood friend.  I love the way that he combs his hair back like Robert Mitchum.

            After saying goodbye to the owner, Peter, and wishing him well on this adventure, I cycled into town for information.  The clerk had just opened up at 9:30  and I was her first customer.  Bright, cheerful, and eager, she was ready to help.  She checked Google Maps and found a bike route to Brossac, my next stop.  When the roads on Google failed to match up with the tourist map, she brought out a more detailed road map. She deftly used her yellow felt tipped marking pen to indicate the route on the map. Untangling the spider web of roads, half of them unmarked, would be a formidable feat.  Without Aaron I was not sure that I was up to the task.  But what were the choices?  The only other option was a very busy road that is nothing less than playing Russian Roulette with 5 bullets.

Right out of the chute I made a mistake but that was the only time I found myself going backwards.  Other times I was on roads running parallel.  I had to check the map at every intersection.  The pace was tedious.  The whole morning ride lack momentum.  

Then out of the blue Mistress Serendipity played a card.  Every year she does something to make that ride extra special.  While riding into Le Pizou at 12:30 I searched for a spot to have lunch and maybe a nap.  There were two benches on the side of the Church.  However, four or five children were playing on a make shift stage.  I gathered my stuff and moved around to the front of the Church where I found 20 to 30 adults eating and drinking.  I had barely parked my bike when a man waved me over.  I said that I was an American.  Immediately, the crowd started murmuring and the most elegant man this side of Cary Grant stepped forward.  After apologizing for his English he explained that this group of Christians meets once a month to enjoy a potluck lunch.  He and several others encouraged me to come over and enjoy the food and drink.  I could hardly refuse such gracious hospitality.  I chose a delicious piece of quiche and a glass of apple juice. 

Working like a CIA operative, I found out that his name was Jake.  He was born in northern France, worked as accountant in Belgium for 35 years, was offered a job here, and never married.  But most astounding was that he was 87 years old and honest to God looked 20 years younger.  He mentioned that these friends were his family.  I was blown away by the friendliness of the entire group.  Before leaving I went around to each, thanking and shaking hands.

The afternoon went better but the day was growing thin and I still had an hour to go.  In Yveres a man in the Marie allowed me to fill the water bottles and helped with directions to Brossac.  There were several tents set up in the grassy area behind the building.  Just passed 6 and another hour to go, I remained committed to trying for the campground.  Two kilometers out of town I realized that I had left a water bottle back in town.  Upon returning, those tents made an offer like Marlon Brando in the Godfather that I could not refuse.  My short list of “must haves” for camping was shortened further.  Electricity, running water, toilet, and covering shrunk to covering.  The camping would lack electricity and running water but those tents were available in case of rain.  While unpacking a second gentleman arrived to work in the garage behind the Marie.  When asked if this was okay, he smiled and nodded his unofficial yes.

Two liters of water would be more than enough.  The clear and cool water in a fast flowing stream was perfect for having a sponge bath and washing my clothes.

Unexpectedly, the quiet solitude of the place was interrupted several times.  First, two boys showed up to practice the rolling game with the balls.  They were quiet compared to the banging of pots and pants on the other side of the stream.  One boy had a modicum of rhythm, Gene Krupa can rest easy, but the two others banged away as if spirit banishing was their sole intention.

At one o’clock the nighttime silence was broken with the barking of a lonely dog.  Dogs have different barks and this definitely was the sad cry of loneliness.  After several hours the poor dog’s howl was reduced to a whimper. 

In the morning, I awoke to two roosters crowing and three ducks quacking; the shorter version of 12 days of Christmas for June.

In the morning, a secretary in the Marie pointed out the restroom and running water across the road well hidden behind the town recreational hall.

Au revoir!!!    

22nd Day

22^nd Day

Bonjour!!!

            I had a nice sleep in Cancon.  The sun was already 20 degrees above the eastern horizon and the moon a pale ghost in the western sky.  Wanting something warm I heated up a cupful of Japanese noodles. 

            There was a steep rise where the road dipped near the lake.  Fortunately it was short and I had my morning legs.  What a difference between morning and afternoon legs.  The trick is to fool the legs into thinking that there are two mornings.

            The first seven km were the mere fingers of a baby’s hand.  There were times that I rode the length of the finger before diving down into a forested ravine.  The traffic has been minimal.  I have been forced off the road by several farm machines that prey on old cyclists like huge locusts.  My chain derailed twice.  But otherwise the trip went smoothly.

            I curled into Lauzun exactly at noon.  I cycled over to visit the well-advertised chateau.  Unfortunately the doors were closed for the noon break.  I had lunch on a bench in the shade of part of the wall that once encircled the city.  I had checked at the bakery hoping for the luck of yesterday.  Instead I had a delicious tuna-Mexican style salad with bread and honey.

            Next up came Eymet.  This town had a busy town square with a very nice fountain in the center.  Restaurants and boutiques bordered the square.  The major feature is the “bastide” which is a stone fortress.  A river limits the town on one side.   Many of these towns have maintained buildings and narrow winding streets from the medieval times.  The effect is very attractive and tourists are enthralled by the historic and romantic atmosphere. 

            A very young and very attractive lady reopened the Office de Tourisme promptly at 2:00.  She was able to find a campground in Ste-Foy de Grande about 30 km away. 

            I hopped on D 18 for the whole ride, a nice country road with few cars and fewer trucks.  The dense forests have been replaced by large fields of wheat and hay.  Vineyards started popping up everywhere like Napa Valley.  I sailed along arriving in 2.5 hours including stops. 

            The last two stops I have had the campgrounds to myself.  Tonight’s is filled to the brim.  I counted only three spots unrented.  The owner is British and nearly every camper is from the British Isles.  He had worked in the campground business in England before trying his luck by buying this one.  He said that he has sunk a lot of money into renovating the place.   The place does not have many spaces but business was brisk.

The couple across from the way are Dutch and have been on the road for two months, mostly in southern Spain.  I laid down to read and fell fast asleep.  When I awoke the Dutch lady was smiling and said, “You needed that.”

            I laughed and asked, “Did I snore?”

            She shook her head but her mischievous grin said otherwise.

            The German couple to their right defied the imagination.  She was tall, just shy of six feet, and looked like she could best Bruce Jenner in the decathlon.  She could not have been a day over 35.  He on the other hand was 6 inches shorter, was bald headed, had a belly slipping over his belt, and was easily 10 years passed 35.    

            For dinner I had the duck pate, bread, figs, tomato, olives, and wine.  The young lady back in Eymet had suggested the figs with the pate, kissing her fingertips from her smacking lips.

Au revoir!!!