15th Day

15^th Day

Bonjour!!!

            The evening and night were filled with rain, light, off and on, but wet.  I moved all my stuff into the laundry area.  Unfortunately, the laundry area was next to the path for people wanting to use the restrooms or showers.  The sounds of flushing toilets reverberated through the evening until well-passed 11.  If rain forces me to linger, I will scout out a quieter area. 

            Neither a wink of sunshine nor whisper of wind greeted me in the morning.  I woke up promptly at 6:30 and biked over to the library for breakfast; quiche Lorraine, an orange, three cookies, and two cups of coffee.  There is not an English book in the library, a hint of how far off the traditional tourist path I am.  On the other hand, most of the posted information includes an English translation and the receptionist spoke with fluent English.

            I was able to send out the 14^th blog on their Internet.  The code had 16 letters, all in capitals.  Even the CIA would have a difficult time cracking the 3.487131648 trillion possibilities.  For those checking the calculation, there were three I’s.

            I forgot to mention the war memorial in Saint-Augustin.  After the Great War, WW I, war memorials were commissioned for every village.  The tall stone obelisk in this mite of a village contained 75 names for the Great War.  Four names were added later for WW II.  Reading the names added to the horror.  Nine families lost two members, four families three, two families four, and one family lost five members.  Doing the tragic arithmetic, four families lost 43 members.  A tsunami of grief must have overwhelmed the town!  In the coming days, I am going to check more memorials.

            A wren like bird has just flown into the library.  He is sitting quietly in one  corner.

            The clock just struck 8 and the weather is holding, making a getaway possible.  My plan (God is smiling!) is to head farther south on D 18.

            The first rise is a doozy but with morning legs I handle easily.  The land starts to flatten like it has been steam rolled, much like the glacier smooth farmland of southern Minnesota.  The rises and falls are barely noticeable.  Several falls carry me over the following rises.

            As I near Argentat I start down and down, twisting and turning, reaching speeds of over 30 mph.  I thought that I was at sea level, where is this going?  Men of the Tour can do descents like this matter of factly, not ancient men on ancient bicycles.  Near the bottom there are two hairpin turns, a full 180 degrees.  I am on my brakes, they are squealing!  Then I hit the bottom to the sight of glorious lake, it is stunning.  The road glides between cliffs and Dordogne River, like cycling out of Yosemite Valley.  The Dordogne Valley is the Loire Valley without the chateaus.

            I pass a group of cyclists, at least 20, and they give me a rousing cheer and thumbs up like when I did that amazing climb of a mountain in western Ireland.  With countless switchbacks I made it to the top with a fully packed bicycle and received the acclaimed of all those who had watched the struggle.  It was so steep that I saw mountain goats lose their footing.

            The young lady at the Office de Tourisme was incredibly helpful.  She showed the way out of town, camping sites, and a cycling road to the next town.  This road matched the Dordogne curve for curve.  It was not single gear cycling but I was only shifting up and down on the big gear.  Most of the land was used for grazing and orchards.  I could hear and see the Dordogne nearly the entire way, incredibly blue with white splashes as the swift running cascaded over the rocks.  Two men a canoe wisely paddled to the left of one terrifying rapids, not the challenge of the Colorado River but dangerous still.  

As typical for me my ADD kicked in after 16 km of beautiful scene upon beautiful scene like being at the Louve or the Fizzi when after awhile the amazing paintings become calendar art.  I took a bridge from the left side to the right side and was immediately rewarded with a country church at Brivezac from the 13^th century.

            The D 12 was not as heavily traveled as I expected.  The 8 km went quickly into Beaulieu-sur-Dordogne.  The young lady again was friendly and helpful.  She had just finished her degree and was doing this for the summer.  She suggested a municipal campground in Liourdes 8km farther on. 

I am growing to like municipal campgrounds.  They are usually a prime area, are inexpensive, well maintained, and have a covered space for community events. 

On the ride of town I saw a sign to a campground that I thought was municipal.  It was gorgeous, located on an island with the Dordogne flowing on either side.  In fact, this campground was three star and merited each star. 

I put on my swimming trunks and waded into the cold, refreshing waters of the Dordogne.  With the incredible rainfall of the last 10 days, the waters are flowing by at a feverish pitch and are at record heights.

In the afternoon the clouds were wiped from the sky like chalk from a blackboard.  With the sun bearing down the temperature rose precipitously.  I lathered on layers of sunscreen.  In the morning I did rip my pair of long suffering rain pants when I swung my leg over the bike.  They were at half-mast like a plumber’s when working under the sink.  They had lasted three and one half tours.  I had bought them at the bicycle shop in Paris that had done the initial reconditioning of the bike.  I also must report that I finally left something behind, the camera case for my new camera.

The skies are clear tonight and the weather is supposed to be good for the next couple of days.  I am heading south tomorrow toward Rocamadour, a town recommended by Paul.

              

Au revoir!!!