As many of you know we are back on the road. For those of you who
don't know we set off a few weeks ago from Châtellerault in the
pouring rain - and we mean seriously pouring! We left Richard's
parents place and headed into the centre of Châtellerault for a quick
photo - the local rag wanted to do an article on us and asked to take
a photo of us leaving from the central square. If it wasn't for that
we'd probably still be hibernating at Richard's parents as it
rained everyday for the next 10 days or so. Luckily our waterproof's
are working fantastically (big "thank you" to Brett!).
Despite it being grey and damp with buffeting winds teasing us over the
fact that we hadn't ridden fully loaded bikes for over a year, we
made good progress as the roads were flat and no map reading was
required. We made it to Bonneuil-Matours for lunch and laid plastic
bags on the wall to sit on whilst piling on clothes in an attempt to
keep warm. The wind was merciless and it was only the hot thermos of
coffee that stopped Stani suggesting we head straight back home. Out of
the back door of the restaurant opposite came the chef. We took a good
look at him and he certainly gave the impression of being a miserable
fellow. The reason why I mention it is that we had been taken there for
lunch there a week previously. Our host (the adorable Madam Tetrad) had
not thought to ask in advance about a vegetarian meal for me. The wife
of the chef was suffering from backache and not in good spirits and
basically roasted Mdm Tetrad about the fact that I was a vegetarian
despite the fact that Mdm Tetrad was a regular there. It all boiled
down to the fact she was too scared to upset her husband by announcing
there was an oddball vegetarian in the place. I felt horribly
humiliated about the whole thing and when a day later Richard's
brother invited us for dinner at a restaurant I refused totally! We
were amused that he appeared to live up to his reputation.
Our first day cycling reminded us of why we are completely addicted to
travelling like this. Stopping in Valdivienne we stopped at sheltered
bus stop to have a snack out of the wind. Josephina came over to us and
after the normal chitchat offered us a coffee. We explained we
weren't going to stay much longer and she said don't worry and
reappeared a few minutes later with a thermos of steaming coffee and a
bag of chocolate bars which lasted us for 2 weeks! The generosity of
strangers when least expected can brighten the worst days and stays as
a bright memory for years after. Just as well as that night we stopped
in the municipal camp ground at Lussac les Châteaux. Not finding
anyone around and a note at the office saying it was open from 8pm we
stuck up our tent and settled in for the night. About 8:10 we heard a
car and a lady appeared outraged by the fact we were there as the
campground was closed. We pointed out that we had no idea that it was
closed as the gates were open and there was no sign attesting to the
fact but she advised us that as there were no prices posted that
indicated it was closed. We refrained from pointing out that we had
just figured that was a tactic to allow them to charge whatever they
felt we were capable of paying (spent too much time in Latin America I
guess!). She wanted us to move but as we were already encased in our
sleeping bags, it was dark and very cold outside and 100 other reasons
we could easy come up with, we refused. A half hour argument ensued but
we weren't budging. Funnily enough she came round in the morning when
we were packing up and was as friendly as possible. Still doing a bit
of head scratching at her changed attitude.
After that we had a week or so of cycling through beautiful villages
which we found hard to fully appreciate because of the rain and
freezing in the cold. Several times our speedometers only registered
1°C at lunchtime. Richard was generous enough to cook breakfast and
dinner every day whilst Stani huddled under the sleeping bag in the
tent wondering if she had lost her senses.
We spent New Years Eve in St-Martial-de-Valette in a bungalow in a
campground relishing finally not being subjected to the weather. We
celebrated with pasta with black truffles, Mexican beer and a rather
expensive St Emilion 1998. Despite our efforts we were asleep by 10:30.
So belated New Year greetings to you all.
On our 9th night we were treated to an experience beyond our dreams. We
had spent the morning cycling along a stretch of the Dordogne that is
home to kingfishers and herons. The Dordogne has a deserved reputation
as one of Europe's most beautiful river valleys, but it also hosts some
of the world's most spectacular caves, navigable underground rivers and
stalactites more than 250ft long. The area is known as 'The Capital of
Prehistory' being the site of the first homo sapiens in a little
village called Cro Magnon, and of Font de Gaume, the last polychrome
cave paintings open to the public anywhere in the world. We didn't
get to see that as we had visited Lascaux II a few days earlier - a
mistake I suspect as they will probably be closed by the time we are
next in the area! But we did cycle past a closed rather tacky looking
dinosaur park.
The cuisine of the area is famous throughout France, as the home of
truffles and foie gras, but also for cêpes and for a whole cuisine
based on duck and goose. Stani was delighted to see so many geese out
in the fields and wondered about the whole foie gras issue. It was only
later that I found out it is only in the last 2 weeks of a goose's
life that it is force fed.
The Dordogne is split into 4 separate areas; Perigord Noir given its
name from the oak and pine trees which are in abundance throughout; the
Perigord Verte, named for the greenery and the myriad of streams that
cross it; the Perigord Blanc, built on limestone plateaux; and the
Perigord Poupre, where they make wine. So we went through the Black and
White not worried about missing the green but how did we miss the
Purple?
In the afternoon we climbed the limestone causses on the way to
Rocamadour. The area was at war for more than 400 years between the
middle of the 11th century and the end of the 16th - and it shows.
There were glorious fortified châteaux, fortified towns, fortified
churches, fortified villages and even fortified farmhouses. The terrain
is a real contrast of arid volcanic plateau, and Rocamadour is one of
the most spectacular towns in France, clinging to the side of a cliff
hundreds of feet above the Alzou Gorge. The town developed around the
site of a 13th century hermitage. But for us it was grey and miserable
as usual and the photos we took do no justice to the place. Our map
suggested that there might not be any suitable camping spots for a
while and there had been several signs into the town stating wild
camping was forbidden. So Richard went and asked at the tourist office
if they had any suggestions. After half an hour of phone calls to the
Maire it was agreed that we could stay at the local 'stade'. We
recalled the sports stadiums we occasionally stayed at in South America
and we thanked them effusively and headed out of town in search of it.
When we arrived the 'stade' was a sports field with some cubicles
for the toilet. The toilets were locked and there was no water. Stani
resigned herself to another night's sub zero camping but Richard was
aggravated at the lack of water and toilet facilities so we returned to
the tourist office. Another half hour's waiting whilst phone calls
were made to find the caretaker to get him to go along and unlock the
toilets. Suddenly someone asked if we wouldn't rather stay in the
castle? For free? Stani wasn't sure if she understood correctly but
sure enough we were directed along to the castle ramparts and ended up
staying within the castle walls. It was a glorious sunset only spoilt
by that being within the castle walls half way up a cliff face it was
kind of hard to take a photo.
The next day we cycled to Capdenac Gare where we stayed with some
member cyclists of the French CCI/CAC. Alain and his wife were
wonderful and getting ready for a cycling trip to Malta. It was a
superb evening swapping cycling tales. The funny bit was that it turned
out that they had stayed with Richard's parents a couple of years
earlier. When we didn't have a house to offer touring cyclists we had
put Richard's parents' address down as an alternative. The best bit
was that it turned out that Alain was interested in wine and apart from
breaking open several bottles he rang up a winemaker friend and
arranged for us to spend the next night with him.
Oh bliss! Cyclists and wine enthusiasts! Rico was on the trail. What
more could he want? We spent the next day with Roger Massol who was a
winemaker for one of the Marcillac co-operatives. We learnt that little
more than a century ago, Marcillac consisted of over 4,000 hectares of
vines. Today a mere 150 hectares remain, dug into the hillsides along
the causse, high enough up the hill to prevent damage from spring
frosts and at a steep angle which allows maximum exposure to the sun.
Not only is it one of the oldest wines in France but also the smallest
appellation. The wine is based upon the local grape called "Mansois",
grown elsewhere in the south of France it is known as Fer Servadou or
Braucol but it was unknown even to Richard.
At dinner Roger explained about the cyclist who he had found sleeping
in the derelict house next door and how he hadn't wanted anything at
all and basically simply asked to be left alone. I wondered if I had
been Patrick who we'd met that day earlier as we cycled out of
Dezcaville having decided not to stop there for lunch as the only
square we could find was truly grungy. Patrick looked like a true
touring cyclist with plastic boxes and makeshift gear. He had only
cycled from Toulon but had done all the small roads and snow blocked
mountain passes. Stani felt guilty about my wimpyness at the cold after
meeting him and winced slightly at the photo of him and Richard later
- Richard still decked in sparkly new gear.
Roger had kindly insisted to take us to Conques. We had noticed Conques
on the tourist map at Firmi where we had stopped for lunch on route to
Rogers. At Firmi we got the impression that clearly the local area was
excited about something as there was a big sign announcing the local
treasures but really all we were interested in was not getting wet from
the wooden bench we were lunching on. A car pulled up and a woman
jumped out with her little dog that immediately ran over to the picnic
table and crapped under our feet. Our enthusiasm for our lunch waned
marginally. Stani braved the loo - to her surprise both the loo
flushed and the taps worked. She hoped this was the explanation for
liquid on the floor. We examined the board - we didn't glean much
information - it was somewhat faded. Stani did notice something about a
"Puy de Wolf" hike. Later she looked this upon the internet to see
what all the excitement was about. At 459 metres "Puy de Wolf" was
a telecom antenna. You can even find photos of it on the web - someone
is very keen indeed and has 7 different telephone antennas featured on
their website of interesting places visited in France. It's not on
the Averyon tourist website surprisingly enough.
Conques turned out to be worth the visit. Apart from the fact the
village was glorious (the only one of the 10 in Averyon on the "les
plus beaux villages de France" list we got to see - Aveyron boasts more
than any other department in France which shows how good our route
planning is!), the Abbey turned out to be a Unesco World Heritage Site
and the area was surrounded by vineyards - satisfying both the
"objectives" of our bike tour. We wondered how come we'd missed
the fact that it was a World Heritage Site? Later investigation
unearthed the fact that although we had 754 sites on our list, the
number in fact now had risen to 788 and we needed to cycle fast as the
list would be reviewed in July 2005 when no doubt more would be added.
But that didn't answer our dilemma as the sign at Conques indicated
that the abbey had been made a world heritage site in 1998. We
eventually discovered that certain "sites" on the Unesco list
covered more than 100 sites spread over different areas - mostly in
France. So the Abbey was just one of the 78 sites actually listed as
one site on the official list. Lascaux which we visited earlier that
week was only one on a list of 15 under that category. Haven't worked
out how many sites there are in total but don't think we'll get to
see them all them!
The next night was in Rodez with Guy. Again another cyclist and wine
enthusiast he was also a historian and took us for a night time tour of
Rodez. Rodez was founded nearly 2000 years ago in an ideal position of
defence perched on a high outcrop and protected by a loop in the River
Aveyron. The jewel of Rodez is, of course, the flamboyant, Gothic-style
Cathedral of Notre Dame (c. XIII- XVI). Built in pink sandstone and
awesome in size, it towers 30 meters high, 107 meters long and 37
meters wide. There is a huge gap in history about Rodez and people
wonder what was going on in that time suspecting foul deeds.
The next day we headed off eagerly to Millau. Ever since arriving in
France we had heard about the opening of the Viaduct there and Richard
wished fervently to be able to cycle over it but no pedestrians or
cyclists are allowed. But Millau have a reputation of being
environmentally friendly, mainly due to the fact that this was the town
where they'd planted a firebomb in the local McDonalds in protest.
The signs advertised it was an outdoor sports town and the entry signs
all showed cycling as one of the local pastimes.
Well the cycling friendliness was overrated anyway. We were advised
that we couldn't take the national road out of Millau - too
dangerous and the route had a big cyclists' forbidden sign when we
got there. Appeared most of the routes out of town did!
So as the gendarmerie was just down the road we decided to go and ask
them what to do. The woman on the desk said that the national was
actually the safest route and her friend used it to cycle to work
everyday.
That night we camped at a parking lot with camper vans and a green
patch of grass lining the parking lot. As we laid out the tent in our
minds Millau slowly metamorphosed from being the environmentally
friendly town of the Viaduct to the town of dog shit as it appeared we
had decided to camp in the local dogs toilet and indeed as we cooked
that night several cars pulled up to let their dogs out. Luckily we had
purchased a brush for our tent that day and we baptised it to clean our
shoes in the morning.
Our final night before arriving in Montpellier we spent on the wilds of
the Larzac plateau on a soft bed of rosemary. Fearing the cold we had
wrapped up warm but in the middle of the night the wind changed and it
was warm and foggy when we awoke. The wind was fair though. By giving
us warmth it also provided us with a fearsome headwind that lasted all
the way to Montpellier.
Our arrival in Montpellier was a delight. A cyclists dream. Gaël
(Richard's brother in law) took us straight into the patisserie and
stuffed us with pastry delights and beer. The next day Richard was up
at the crack of dawn and attempting to put Gaël out of business with
the number of pain au chocolat's he consumed. Yes - it was good to
arrive in Montpellier.
We joked about our "Tour de France" - Richard describing it as
the prologue to our voyage. Nothing in common then with the Tour de
France prologue!
By for now!
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Richard and Stani
www.velomad.com
PS website should be up in about a week so take a peek then. If anyone
feels like helping us out by translating it into a French or Spanish
version we'd be ever appreciative!
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