TDF Journal Thursday 25th May Huy to Nouvion Goodbye Belgium, Hello France

Distance 157k
Time 7:23
Climb 1039m
Weather Wet, Wet, Wet (and windy)

Today was to prove the worst day of my tour. It did not start too well as I got up and looked out of the window the grey skies had returned. Not only that but I could see some flags along the river bank and these were almost being blown off their staffs. I went downstairs to what proved to be a pretty meagre breakfast and checked my route. My main aim for the day was to get back into France and I had planned to go cross country by the most direct route to achieve this. However this would take me straight into the teeth of the gale that was clearly blowing outside. I changed my mind and decided to follow the road along the Meuse. This was shown as a main road but I had learned this might be a good thing, it should be relatively flat and the valley it ran it would hopefully provide a bit of shelter from the wind.

This turned out to be a good plan. The road was smooth, with a wide hard shoulder that served as a cycle path. A steady drizzle had set in but because I was forewarned I had donned my Pack-a-Mac at the hotel so remained relatively dry inside. I think the route would also have been relatively scenic but the wind and rain pretty much obscured my view.
I made good time down to Jambes but there found there was a market on which slowed me down as I tried to avoid shoppers, a difficult task since both they and I were wrapped up so tightly against the weather. As a result my average speed slowed quite a bit and this started me on a train of thought that I would return to several times during my trip, namely things we cyclo-tourists have to put up with that the pros don't. I can just imagine the TDF peloton hurtling through a town centre, then having to jump off their bikes because a market was taking place....(not).

I crossed over the Meuse eventually. There had not been much traffic, despite my using a main road, I guess even car drivers did not fancy going out given the conditions, but I was passed by a group of motorbikes. This was the first time that it had happened and it happened a lot during the rest of my tour and it did make me wonder as the motivation for wanting to motorbike in groups. On a pushbike it makes sense as the more of you there are the easier it is (another advantage the tour pros have, for them a head wind is less of a problem than a cross wind). Not so sure why you would want to motorbike as part of a group though, seems to take away some of the advantages of having a motorbike in the first place as you can't go as fast as you like or overtake with impunity. I can sort of understand the shared camraderie at stops or the end of the day but then why do you see so many motorbike groups and very rarely groups of cars?

Anyway 10km south of Jambes I had to leave the shelter of the river valley and head west if I was to get to my destination. I climbed up the side of the valley, reaching the top was like being, literally, hit around the head by a wet fish. The wind was near to full on gale force driving the heavy rain directly into my face. I set off gloomily along the road. Progress was difficult as apart from the wind and rain the road rolled up and down. Strangely I actually looked forward to the ups as at least at the bottom of each little climb I got a little respite from the wind. Little by little I was losing the will to live, so I made myself a promise to stop at the next town which looked to be a place called Mettet. However it seemed like I was making very slow progress. The nadir came when I climbed to the what I thought was the top of a little hill only to find that it was just a plateau and the real hill loomed above. At that stage the wind increased even more in force and it became difficult even to turn the pedals over let alone make real progress. I was soaked to the bone and feeling very very low.

This was the only time during the entire trip that I came close to regretting what I was doing and the thought of chucking in the towel (if only I had one, which would have been useful given how wet I was) crossed my mind. It seemed like things could not get any worse and fortunately I was right. As I struggled up the hill I just caught sight of a little white sign pointing to my right. It had the most beautiful word in the world printed in big black capitals "METTET". I followed it and almost immediately things got better. The big hill that was such a bugger to climb now provided shelter from the gale, which in any case I was now tacking across rather than trying to plough straight into. Not only that after a short rise the road down to Mettet was straight downhill, so I quickly came to the town centre. This was somewhat small, in fact it only took a couple of minutes to go right round it and this first circuit failed to detect any hostelries.




Visit Mettet!

However after I had wiped the water from my eyes I saw there was one bar. I went in and immediately started to feel better. I found a seat next to the window and things looked up even more as there was a piping hot radiator there that not only warmed me up but also let me do an impromptu striptease as I took off various layers of clothing and laid them over the radiator to dry off. A waitress arrived, not to chuck me out but rather to ask me what I wanted to eat/drink. I asked for 2 Leffes, 1 orange juice and 2 croque monsieurs. The waitress asked if the someone else was joining me and I said no, they were just for me as I was in urgent need of sustenance. Very quickly both food and drink arrived. The croques were huge and came with salad but were wolfed down as were the beers. I asked for another round of both which I consumed with a bit more moderation.




Things were definitely looking up. My socks were toasting nicely on the radiator and my cold bones were now being warmed by a gentle glow from my full to brimming stomach. Not only that, as I looked out of the window on the central square I could now clearly see to the other side so the weather was brightening up as well. I consulted my maps and found more good news. I had not realised during my planning (honest) but the town of Chimay was
near to my route. Now this is a name I know very well ever since the first brush I had with the town's most famous product, fittingly given my current trip, on my first night in Strasbourg many years ago. For Chimay is famous for its beer, brewed by its Trappist monks, who presumably use it to alleviate the rigours of their chosen path in life. The beer is famous for its strength, the least strong red being a mere 7 degrees and the rather more powerful Bleu being a hefty 9 degrees. Definitely a drink to be taken in moderation.




Chimay looked like being the perfect distance for a late afternoon stop. So with this as an incentive I left the pub. Things got even better. The wind seemed to have died down and the rain was now more like a light drizzle. Also there was a back road out of town, around, not over, the big hill that had been the cause of my earlier grief.

So I left Mettet in a much better state than when I found it and had an uneventful trip to Chimay. I was a little disappointed to find that the town was not full of industrious, tonsured monks but was just an ordinary Belgian town, with cobbled streets (zut). Not to be dissuaded I nevertheless stopped at a bar and ordered some of the local brew.

Beer/Cheese/Monks

Fortified I headed west and south. The rain was still hanging around, but not too bad. As I headed along a country road I noticed that the road surface abruptly changed from rather poor to nice and smooth. Almost simultaneously, it felt, the rain stopped and, if the sun did not exactly shine, the clouds covering the sky turned from grey to off white. Then I noticed that the road signs were different. I was back in France! Hoorah!!!




My overnight destination was Le Nouvion a town that as its website
Visit Le Nouvion!
says is "a lively community with its various industries : Les Fromagers de Thirache producers of the famous "Maroilles Cheese", The West Pharmaceutical manufacturer of pharmaceuticals corks, The slaughterhouse Porcinord."

Fortunately I had not read this last bit before booking.

I eventually made it, though not without going in circles for a bit due to following my nose to a short cut.

The hotel was nice if unremarkable. Rather fittingly, though, it had signs up for the TDF which was due to head through. The manageress showed a degree of interest in my trip mentioning that a team from Gan was staying for the tour. This got me a bit excited as there used to be a Gan cycling team (now Credit Agricole) but it turned out they were from the town not the team so I would not be able to boast of sharing a bed with any famous cyclists.

Watched the local news to catch "le meteo" (weather forecast). Depressingly the winds are due to continue. A big arrow with "80 kph" straddled my route, pointing directly into my face. Oh dear. Still on the good side, less rain was forecast. I felt that I had survived my baptism of fire (well water actually) at Mettet and that no matter what the elements chose to throw at me now I would pull through and survive....