Third Day of Biking
Bonjour!
There has
been heavy dew both nights. Last night I
moved everything beneath a grand shelter.
After checking on the now damp clothes, I finished off the remainder of
the wine, the bread, and apricot jam washed down with delicious coffee. Aaron put me onto their instant coffee and it
remains a favorite.
Wanting to
finish drying my clothes and sleeping I futilely searched for laverie but found
none. This was most unusual.
There were
two couples in the park touring in vintage French cars. They were equally interested in my vintage
bicycle.
As I was
packing, two workers dressed in overalls arrived with their weed wackers. As they assaulted the weeds nearby by hair
fever rose exponentially.
Morning
legs are definitely better than late afternoon legs. I retraced yesterday’s trek and shaved at
least 20 minutes off yesterday’s time.
The
memorial at Oradour-s-Glane is equal parts sobering and inspiring similar to
visiting the remnants of a Nazi concentration camp. Unlike them this horror lasted less than an
afternoon. The 200 Waffen SS encircled
the town and herded everyone toward the main square. They separated the women and children from
the men. The women and children were
placed in the church while the men remained huddled in the square. On a given signal the guards opened fire with
machine guns. They then finished off
those still stirring with pistols and rifles.
Amazingly two men survived.
They then
turned their attention to the church.
With fire bombs they set the church ablaze. Some guards stepped forward and shot their
machine guns through the windows. One
woman survived.
After the
killing, the guards began looting carrying off everything possible. As they left they systematically set each
building on fire.
The next
day they returned and put the charred remains into a common grave. Later only 10% of the bodies were
identifiable.
A war
crimes trial was held in the 1950’s. It
was discovered that the guards were from Alasce, an area long disputed between
France and Germany, and had been conscripted into the SS Waffen. Because of their French connection and part
of the healing process, the guards were granted amnesty.
The walk
through the town is free and a must see.
The adjoining exhibit cost 7.80 euros and worth every penny. Most but not all of the displays have English
explanations.
On to
Limoges, center of the famous pottery. I
encountered another difficulty unique to cycling. If at turn-a-bout, a National Route (Super
freeway) is available that option is listed.
But cyclists are not allowed on the N-routes and one has to choose
another option. Of course those options
are not listed. Two different routes to
the same place would be confusing. This
happened two or three times the last two days.
Fortunately I made the right guess one time with the help of fellow
cyclist.
Later I was
not so lucky and found myself on the dreaded N-Route. Ironically I felt safer. With the wide shoulders I was able to stay
faraway from the two lanes of traffic. I
quickly exited on the next off ramp and found myself blissfully lost. Asking for help from three charming French
ladies I was rewarded with smiles and directions.
I swept
down into Limoges thinking that this was a valley town only to find myself
rising to the hill town. Actually
Limoges was large enough to encompass several hills, maybe not as many as 9
hills of Rome.
I found the
Office de Tourisme with the aid of many.
The helpful ladies directed me to camping, a MacDonald’s, and a
Kebob. With the Kebob closed I settled
for a Mac Royale.
I keep
moving up as this campground was three stars.
Sadly, all the extras, pool, TV room, and day room were closed.
In addition, none of the electrical outlets were working. I finally found one in laverie. My I-Pod, computer, and camera needed recharging.
I was greeted by a male
receptionist, a gentleman in his late forties with thinning hair. As he dealt with two guests, I sat with a
cold water. They also had sodas, beer,
and wine for sale.
Off to Lac de Vassioniere tomorrow.
Avoir!!!
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