Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Normal service is resumed

After a brief excursion back to the UK for a funeral, Mr M returned to the Pyrenees. He's cast his eye over the blog, and approved the contents therein as being vaguely accurate. You'll have to wait for his return to these shores to hear all the nitty gritty technical details though.

We're beginning to get used to getting excited text updates from all sorts of weird places. Such as the one on Saturday. It's just as well I switched on my phone after he sent me the one about his successful go at the notorious Mt Ventoux. Even I knew about Tommy Simpson and others who'd come to grief there.



The beloved did have some hairy moments with the weather in this region. He first texted me from a bar where he was waiting for a storm to pass over before attempting the ascent; reckoning that once above the treeline he'd be a sitting target for being turned into a human rissole. Luckily after fifteen minutes or so it passed over. The same's held on other occasions since, and he reckons he's getting more expert on judging the conditions and when and when not to move on.

Hairiness apart, there've been some cheesy moments. Like the other evening when Mr M phoned me from a gay bar (he only discovered this after the event! - he was trying to find somewhere to watch the football from) to tell me one of his flip- flops had fallen out of his panniers, and not fancying cycling back 20 miles up a hill to rescue it, and cycling shoes for evening wear (makes him look like Blackadder One without the codpiece)not being a practical option, he decided to fake an ingrowing toenail. So he spent the time sitting with a flip flop on his left foot and a sock on his right. He's since, thankfully bought another pair. ( J'ai perdu mon 'flip' Avez-vous un 'flop,' s'il vous plait?

And yesterday I picked up a text informing us that the 'flip' wasn't the only thing to drop out of his panniers. Somewhere, at a crossroads deep in the South of France, lies a pair of lightweight Rohan underpants. As Mr M says, the antibacterial lining in his remaining two pairs is going to be well and truly put to the test!

I think we're all agreed that this verges on Too Much Information...

Oh, and the latest. His back wheel broke. And on stopping at a tiny village on the offical tour route, he discovered that the inhabitants seemed to have no notion whatsoever of who was going to be passing through in a few weeks time.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Non aux ours!

Since last I blogged, Mr M has been in the wars. Though thankfully not with the bears mentioned in the title.

Friday started off well. By late morning, he'd reached the top of the Col de Tourmalet 2115m; probably twice the size of Snowdon or was that Ben Nevis? Huge, anyway. And when Mr M texted me, he thought that the worst of the day's cycling was over. Taking 3 hours to climb up, the descent should have been around 45 minutes.

He'd reckoned without all the bumps and lumps and gravel; as previously mentioned the route is being prepared for The Tour. As he rode down Mr M punctured his front tyre, lost direction and fell down with a bang! (He now takes back much of what he's said about helmets; he could hear his one hit the ground!). Anyway, when he'd got up and brushed himself off, he discovered that his back tyre was flat as well...and of course he'd only one inner tube left. What to do? In the end he repaired the back tyre and went on his way, stopping periodically to pump up the front one.

Now came the problem. Mr M is returning to the UK next week for a couple of days for a family funeral, and he badly needed to get to his planned destination that day, in order to pick up the hire car that was going to take him to the airport. And that town was two huge hills away. In the normal way of things he'd have limped on as best he could and done the ride the next day, but knowing that time was against him, that wasn't an option. The town was a four hour walk at least.

So, off he went. The ascent of the first hill was made in blistering 35C heat, then as he started down the descent, the heavens opened. By then Mr M reckoned that his only hope was to somehow find a passing cyclist and beg an inner tube off them. Or find a town, with a shop. However, no town, no cyclists, no shop. A Belgian car did stop and on hearing of his predicament said that they thought that there was a station nearby and that he might be able to travel from there.

Some time later, with no station in sight, what should heave into sight again, but the Belgian car. 'No', said the occupants;'there's no station after all - but can we give you a lift?' Which is exactly what they did, (Mr M says he felt quite guilty about messing up their car - what with an oiley, messy bike and him being covered in gravel and blood) but the elderly occupants were really good about it. I gather that the man had done some cycling in the alps in his younger days. So he got a lift as far as the hotel where they were staying, leaving Mr M one more hill to negotiate bfore he reached his destination.

Strange as he says, that Belgians have provided him with both the lowest and the highest spots of the trip so far.

Still , still some way to go, and he really did need to make good time. But how - with two knackered tyres? (By now he was pushing the bike). Well, coincidence of coincidences - when he was dropped at the Belgians' hotel, what should he see parked out in front, but a familiar minibus. He'd met a group of Brits the day before who'd been on one of these cycle tours when your luggage is transported ahead of you. He'd been talking to the driver about his ride then, and now, here he was again! Had he any spare inner tubes? No problem! So on rode Mr M, collected the car, and called me this evening from his hotel near Luchon.

So, what's all this about bears? Well, as he's been riding through the Pyrenees, Mr M has seen a number of messages scrawled on the rocks and fences Non aux ours Or even Oui aux ours scribbled through and replaced with Non. Strange. Until he remembered hearing reports about the current programme to release bears into the wild! There've been tremendous differences of opinion about this with farmers worrying about the possible danger to their animals.

Mr M reassures us that he has not yet met one of said bears; and even if he did, said bear was far more likely to be afraid of him than otherwise. I do hope that's true!

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Snickers in the Pyrenees

Great excitement here! Mr M called us a couple of hours ago from atop the 'hors category' mountain the Col de Soudet. All of 1.540 m which he did in one go; no stopping. And despite the difficulties of cycling over the gravel which has been scattered everywhere ready for the real Tour riders in July. It's rather like riding over sand, apparently.

Just time for a quick Snickers before starting on the long descent.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Pancakes, Picon and Punctures

Our apologies for the break in transmission. Due to domestic crises, mounting phone bills and, more optimistically, the long awaited arrival of sunny weather!

Mr M's 'easy ride' to Rennes was punctuated by three punctures and extreme frustration at the vagaries of French traffic signage. Getting into the city was a nightmare. Fine if you're a motorist, not so for the lowly traveller on two wheels.

Still, the weathers been steadily improving and just then was topping 28C. Once he finally arrived Mr Miff contacted me from his vantage point in a cafe, basking in the late afternoon sunlight - chomping on a Brittany galette and drinking a Picon beer. Loads of other Brits around, too, judging from the background noises.

Thursday saw him heading south to Lorient. It took ages to get out of Rennes, when, for reasons best known to himself he ended up on the motorway! So his journey continued along the hard shoulder for a spell. To do folk credit, no one tooted at him. He suspects this sort of mistake is probably quite common there.

Fond memories on Friday, as he cycled through St Hilaire de Riez in the Vendee; the region where we spent our very first camping holiday - more years ago than we care to remember. Then onwards to La Tranche sur Mere.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Thursday June 1st L'Orient>Kerinhet Hot road a secret village

Distance 133
Time 5:55
Climb 796
Weather Sun

http://www.mapmyrun.com/route/france/lorient/198494255

Had a good breakfast at the hotel before leaving.

Funny feeling at the start of the day. This was to be the first of four days riding some 500km to make the jump from the end of TDF stage 8 to the start of 9 in Bordeaux. Sort of mixed feelings about this as on one hand it feels like a waste of effort riding all this distance when the pros won't be. On the other hand the route will take me down the west coast of France where I have spent many happy holidays camping with the family. In particular the area around Royan was one where I spent time training many years ago when I last rode a bike in anger.

Good start to the day as got over the hardest part early. Getting out of a large town on a bike is often difficult but fortunately the route out was pretty much the same as the one I took to the restaurant the previous evening.

Took things relatively easy on country roads. Looking at the guidebook there seemed to be a place in near St Lephin called "Kernihet" that looked particularly interesting so I rang ahead and booked myself in.

After an easy days ride in the sun I arrived at St Lephin but could not see any sign of a Kerinhet hotel. So I checked at the tourist office and found the hotel was actually in a nature reserve 15km or so to the south. I did mind this too much as it simply meant cycling a few more km in the evening and a few less the next day.

So head south and turn off when see Kerinhet signposted. Cycle a few km and still no hotel so retrace my path and just before the main road see another Kerinhet signpost I have missed. Cycle along this road and am then bemused to see another signpost pointing back the way I have just come. So I pull into a large carpark, which I assume to be for the nature reserve and phone the hotel to get directions. What follows is a bit bizarre as I speak to someone who asks me where I am. I explain that I am in the car park and he says fine thats for the hotel. I tell him I cant see the hotel and he says not to worry he'll come out and gets me. Next thing a chap pops out from a small gap in the hedge surrounding the car park. He is on a phone and I realise it must be the guy I am speaking to. So I wander over to him and he says follow him back through the hole in the hedge.

This is all starting to feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland and the feeling continues when, going through the hedge, I dont see the hotel I was expecting but rather some quaint old houses with footpaths running between them. It turns out the "hotel" is actually an anci village. The cottages date from way back and are now rented out as "rooms". Nearby is a large building which serves as reception and restaurant.

The whole scene is completely idyllic and was one of the highlights of the whole trip, all the more so because it was so unexpected.

I down a couple of ciders then head for my room/cottage to change and return for a very nice meal.


http://www.parc-naturel-briere.fr/


http://la-loire.net/visites/parcs/briere/briere-photos-1.htm

http://la-loire.net/visites/parcs/briere/briere-gastronomie.htm