- Wake up to more rain and cycle against wind.. again
- Passing past large Nestle factory
- Lunch in St Quentin - steak frites
- Hard work post lunch, long roads straight into a headwind with busy traffic
- Grateful for HGVs though, give a bit of shelter from the wind and a warming blast from their exhaust.
- Head off into the countryside in search of shelter and some more pleasant scenery
- Eventually find Mondidier, built on a steep hill.
- Hotel with nice garage for bike and electric shutters
- More steak frites for dinner
Showing posts with label TDF 2006. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TDF 2006. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
TDF 2006 Stage 6 Nouvioun>Montidier
This is one of the days that I didn't recall too much about though quite a bit has come back to me as I did this entry
Monday, December 10, 2012
TDF 2006 Day 5 Huy - Nouvion - Storm before the Calm
Here's my worst and best day ever on a bike. Looking back I'm very impressed with myself.
I should remind myself of this day whenever I feel a bit down. It was quite epic and a reminder that for things to feel really good they also need to sometimes feel really bad.
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I've been putting of this post. Day 5 of my tour was the worst. On the other hand it was also the day that made me into a real cyclist..
I should remind myself of this day whenever I feel a bit down. It was quite epic and a reminder that for things to feel really good they also need to sometimes feel really bad.
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I've been putting of this post. Day 5 of my tour was the worst. On the other hand it was also the day that made me into a real cyclist..
- Waking up to the most depressing sounds a cyclist can hear, the steady patter of rain on the window accompanied by the continuous swishes of cars driving through puddles.
- Taking shelter from the wind at start by following the Meuse down a valley.
- Encounters with market and moterbike gang.
- Crossing the Meuse and climbing up the side of the valley into a full on gale driving torrential rain into my face.
- Very very hard work trying to make headway over the undulating countryside, easier going uphill, sheltered from the storm, than down..
- Feeling very low and wondering if it had all been a mistake. Then seeing a sign, downhill and away from the wind "Mettet"
- Finding the town and, more important, a warm bar.
- Ordering double everything, beer and croque monsieur.
- Stripping off and drying clothes
- Stay for a while until clothes dry, stomach filled and spirits "Leffted."
- Joy on leaving the bar to see some traces of blue in the sky.
- Unscheduled stop at Chimay to pay due homage to the monks.
- Crossing the border into France, smooth roads replacing pitted with amazing coincidence of that being the moment the sun finally broke through.
- Overnight stop at Nouvion which, fittingly, was first to be advertising forthcoming arrival of tour.
Monday, December 03, 2012
TDF 2006 Stage 4 24th May Eupen > Huy Wind, Wind, Fing Wind - revisited
Watched the Fleche Wallone yesterday with Jean Alaphillipe storming up the Mur de Huy to win.
Reminded me of my tour, when I overnighted in Huy in happy ignorance that the next day would be the best and worst day of my life on a bike.
The notes below capture my mood pretty well
Not a very pleasant day...
Reminded me of my tour, when I overnighted in Huy in happy ignorance that the next day would be the best and worst day of my life on a bike.
The notes below capture my mood pretty well
Not a very pleasant day...
- Wind gathered force and I was riding straight into it.
- First encounter with another cyclist, he passed me and I caught him up which helped morale and gave a break from the wind.
- Over the border into Holland
- Lunch in Valkenburg, getting ready to host a tour finish. Only food was cake so had cake and beer lunch.. not the best for nutrition but again helped morale.
- Got lost post lunch but eventually found Maastricht and all its cobbles.
- Hard going to Huy. Had to pause on outskirts of town to shelter under a bridge as heavens opened.
- Huy very grey and worryingly devoid of hotels but eventually found one.
- Evening meal in an Irish pub
Saturday, December 01, 2012
TDF Day 3 Arlon to Eupen: Hail and Hills
Memories of my third day on tour
- Start day with slightly fuzzy head .. glass too many of champagne maybe
- Belgium much hillier than expected
- Stop for lunch and phone Mrs M who finds a hotel for the night
- Showers turn violent and have to sit out a hail storm sheltering under a tree
- Yellow road incident: learn that Belgian roads don't allow for lorries and cycles to be on same road at same time. Detour needed.
- Route to hotel takes me to Eifel.. Mountains! In Belgium??
- Luckily road to hotel is downhill all the way and arrive very wet (mix of sweat and rain)
- Nonetheless folks very welcoming and have a nice meal to warm me up.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
TDF2006 Day 2 St Avold>Arlon
Memories of my second day:
- Leaving St Avold and cycling past a huge American cemetery/dreary chemical factory.
- Somewhat fitting then that grey skies replace sunny
- Boulangerie stop for croissants to have for lunch, no more 3 course blow outs.
- Entering Luxembourg, sun returning and passing a tableau featuring a Harley Davison
- Trials and tribulations finding hotel at the end of the day. Go up and down several hills before finding it and in the process end up cycling in 3 different countries in one day.
- Hotel worth finding, superb restaurant and celebrate with some Luxembourg champagne.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Reliving the tour - stage 1
It's been over 6 years since I did my tour and, with winter on it's way I thought it would be nice to revisit it, both for the memories and to think ahead for next year.
Rather than go into details I will just recall a few of the day by day bullets, to act as a stimulus to my memory. (Remarkably I can close my eyes and play back huge amounts of the ride as if I was there again).
So here we go: Day 1
Rather than go into details I will just recall a few of the day by day bullets, to act as a stimulus to my memory. (Remarkably I can close my eyes and play back huge amounts of the ride as if I was there again).
So here we go: Day 1
- Car to Entzeim airport, very well known from many trips by plane. But this time it's the start of quite a differerent journey and pedalling away from it feels somewhat strange/scary
- Very shortly get lost which is ironic since this is the area of France I know best
- Find my way and cycle through familiar scenery and up my first climb, which I know well
- Mid morning start riding in new territory and realise tour is starting for real
- Stop for lunch, eat far too much and find restarting hard going
- Long hot ride in the afternoon.
- First planned stop has no hotels, find one in St Avold but its another 30km onwards.
- Find the hotel and head out into a very quiet town to get some drink and pasta at a pub.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Wednesday 7th June Mauleon>Lurbe St Christu My first Hors Categorie
Distance 80
Time 4:12
Climb 1554
Cols Soudet
Weather Very Hot (still)
I had a good nights sleep but woke with butterflies in my stomach. Today was going to be a special day, my first ever climb up a "HC" mountain. HC = Hors Categorie which refers to the Tour de France classification of climbs.
Wiki: The French term primarily used in French races (most notably, the Tour de France) to designate a climb that is "beyond categorization", an incredibly tough climb. Most climbs are designated from Category 1 (hardest) to Category 4 (easiest), based on both steepness and length. A climb that is harder than Category 1 is designated as "hors catégorie".
I was planning to go in the deep end. I had never done a climb of Category 2 let alone a 1 and here I was planning to do one so hard it could not be categorised. The climb in question was the Soudet. Overall it climbs for 30km up 1300m which is beyond anything in the UK. Harder still is that the further you go the steeper it gets, the second 15km go up over 1000m at an average gradient of over 7%.
My nervous stomach meant me only having a small breakfast as I was eager to set off. The weather was hot again, but there was plenty of shade. Finding the route to the Soudet was easy and after an hour or so I saw the first sign on the climb proper.
As I made the first turning up the mountain I looked down and saw a couple of fit looking, shaven headed guys get some bikes out of a car. This was a bit worrying, I was not sure if I was going to make it to the top or what state I was going to be in. I remembered the embarassment when starting cycling of having to get off and push. If my attempt ended this way then I would prefer to keep the humiliation to myself.
This gave me a bit of a spur and I kicked on. True to the profile the first few km are not too bad but things get tougher after passing through St Embrace. They were even tougher for me as I took a wrong turning up a near vertical street, only to find it was a dead end and I had to retrace my steps.
I carried on and the going got harder. The signs by the side of the road counted down the kms to go but the gradients started to get steeper with 8s and 9s appearing. To add to the difficulty the road was being resurfaced. This was something I was going to have to get used to, roads all along my route were being repaired in advance of the tour. This meant that often my back wheel would spin on the newly laid gravel and at times I felt more as if I was mountain biking.
Still I pushed on and saw my first 10% km sign. Then 11%! This is an average over the next km. Now this is tough. In the UK people talk out 25% and 30% hills but the reality is that this only refers to the steepest section of the climb. For example I climbed the Devils Staircase in Wales during training and that had warning signs of 25% and bits of it were. But at the end of the day it was a 1km climb averaging at 11.5% and once done the climb is over. Now I was doing pretty much the same after several km of climbing and several more to go.
I engaged low gear and pushed on. At the end of the km the next sign came up with me praying it would not be another double digit gradient. My prayers were answered, a mere 8%. Then I discovered why people say the Pyrenees are tougher than the Alps, a statement I was to agree with by the end of my tour. Climbing is fundamentally about establishing a rhythm, keeping pedals turning and breathing going on a steady pace. In the Alps the climbs are longer than the Pyrenees but tend to be smoother with less changes of gradient. This makes establishing a rhythm not too difficult. While in the Pyrenees you get things like was just about to happen to me. Just after celebrating the fact that after 11%, 8% was going to mean a bit of a rest the road suddenly went downhill for a bit. This was double bad news, first it meant my rhythm went. Second it meant that the bit after the downhill meant regaining my lost height then adding more. I reckon it was more like 16% then 8% and nearly did for me.
But in fact this was the toughest bit and once over I knew I would make it to the top. The final couple of km was a long drag and I finally left the cover of the trees. At last I made it to the top. I was tired but not dead and full of elation. My first HC, done without stopping. To add to the achievement there was no sign of the bald headed blokes I saw at the start.
I phoned Mrs Miff to give her the good news and took time to savour my triumph and take in the view. Sadly the latter was not much to write home about, the top of the Soudet is pretty nondescript and sadly lacking in sources of refreshment.
So after a while I headed downhill. Fast. Very fast. Faster than I have ever gone in my life. My speedo was registering in the mid 80s kmh and I was having a great time. It was lunchtime and the road workers were heading for the valley and a bite to eat. This meant descending was a bit easier as I followed one of them down.
Descending HC mountains is as much of an experience as climbing them. Nothing in the UK can prepare you for the amount of time you spend shooting downhill which can get tiring both physically and mentally.
My first descent was nearly my last. As I headed round a corner I suddenly found the road had disappeared. The top layer of tarmac had been removed leaving just a layer of hardcore. I didnt have time to think which was probably a good thing. I just shot over a 6 inch drop and carried on over the hard core every bone in my body and bit of my bike shuddering. Somehow I managed to jump my bike up and over back onto the road.
I went downhill a bit more slowly after that, figuring if I was a cat I might be down to 8 lives.
After what seemed an age I finally got to the bottom of the Soudet. I stopped by a tabac and at last the June edition of Velo was out. This had the full tour route details so at last I could be sure I was following the real thing.
Then I looked for a hotel. My first choice was a posh one but this was already full of cyclists (in fact there was a moment of confusion as when I pulled up the receptionist assumed I was with this group and started showing me to my room).
So I cycled a bit more of my route and came across another hotel in Lurbe St Christau. This looked a bit dilapidated and I was one of only a handful of guests. But appearances can be deceptive. The guy running the hotel was very laid back and welcoming and it had a swimming pool by which I lounged and drank several beers. The for evening meal I ordered pizza, which was excellent, piled high with fresh ingredients.
My first HC and I felt grand. Ready for the challenge of tomorrow and yet more climbing.
Time 4:12
Climb 1554
Cols Soudet
Weather Very Hot (still)
I had a good nights sleep but woke with butterflies in my stomach. Today was going to be a special day, my first ever climb up a "HC" mountain. HC = Hors Categorie which refers to the Tour de France classification of climbs.
Wiki: The French term primarily used in French races (most notably, the Tour de France) to designate a climb that is "beyond categorization", an incredibly tough climb. Most climbs are designated from Category 1 (hardest) to Category 4 (easiest), based on both steepness and length. A climb that is harder than Category 1 is designated as "hors catégorie".
I was planning to go in the deep end. I had never done a climb of Category 2 let alone a 1 and here I was planning to do one so hard it could not be categorised. The climb in question was the Soudet. Overall it climbs for 30km up 1300m which is beyond anything in the UK. Harder still is that the further you go the steeper it gets, the second 15km go up over 1000m at an average gradient of over 7%.
My nervous stomach meant me only having a small breakfast as I was eager to set off. The weather was hot again, but there was plenty of shade. Finding the route to the Soudet was easy and after an hour or so I saw the first sign on the climb proper.
As I made the first turning up the mountain I looked down and saw a couple of fit looking, shaven headed guys get some bikes out of a car. This was a bit worrying, I was not sure if I was going to make it to the top or what state I was going to be in. I remembered the embarassment when starting cycling of having to get off and push. If my attempt ended this way then I would prefer to keep the humiliation to myself.
This gave me a bit of a spur and I kicked on. True to the profile the first few km are not too bad but things get tougher after passing through St Embrace. They were even tougher for me as I took a wrong turning up a near vertical street, only to find it was a dead end and I had to retrace my steps.
I carried on and the going got harder. The signs by the side of the road counted down the kms to go but the gradients started to get steeper with 8s and 9s appearing. To add to the difficulty the road was being resurfaced. This was something I was going to have to get used to, roads all along my route were being repaired in advance of the tour. This meant that often my back wheel would spin on the newly laid gravel and at times I felt more as if I was mountain biking.
Still I pushed on and saw my first 10% km sign. Then 11%! This is an average over the next km. Now this is tough. In the UK people talk out 25% and 30% hills but the reality is that this only refers to the steepest section of the climb. For example I climbed the Devils Staircase in Wales during training and that had warning signs of 25% and bits of it were. But at the end of the day it was a 1km climb averaging at 11.5% and once done the climb is over. Now I was doing pretty much the same after several km of climbing and several more to go.
I engaged low gear and pushed on. At the end of the km the next sign came up with me praying it would not be another double digit gradient. My prayers were answered, a mere 8%. Then I discovered why people say the Pyrenees are tougher than the Alps, a statement I was to agree with by the end of my tour. Climbing is fundamentally about establishing a rhythm, keeping pedals turning and breathing going on a steady pace. In the Alps the climbs are longer than the Pyrenees but tend to be smoother with less changes of gradient. This makes establishing a rhythm not too difficult. While in the Pyrenees you get things like was just about to happen to me. Just after celebrating the fact that after 11%, 8% was going to mean a bit of a rest the road suddenly went downhill for a bit. This was double bad news, first it meant my rhythm went. Second it meant that the bit after the downhill meant regaining my lost height then adding more. I reckon it was more like 16% then 8% and nearly did for me.
But in fact this was the toughest bit and once over I knew I would make it to the top. The final couple of km was a long drag and I finally left the cover of the trees. At last I made it to the top. I was tired but not dead and full of elation. My first HC, done without stopping. To add to the achievement there was no sign of the bald headed blokes I saw at the start.
I phoned Mrs Miff to give her the good news and took time to savour my triumph and take in the view. Sadly the latter was not much to write home about, the top of the Soudet is pretty nondescript and sadly lacking in sources of refreshment.
So after a while I headed downhill. Fast. Very fast. Faster than I have ever gone in my life. My speedo was registering in the mid 80s kmh and I was having a great time. It was lunchtime and the road workers were heading for the valley and a bite to eat. This meant descending was a bit easier as I followed one of them down.
Descending HC mountains is as much of an experience as climbing them. Nothing in the UK can prepare you for the amount of time you spend shooting downhill which can get tiring both physically and mentally.
My first descent was nearly my last. As I headed round a corner I suddenly found the road had disappeared. The top layer of tarmac had been removed leaving just a layer of hardcore. I didnt have time to think which was probably a good thing. I just shot over a 6 inch drop and carried on over the hard core every bone in my body and bit of my bike shuddering. Somehow I managed to jump my bike up and over back onto the road.
I went downhill a bit more slowly after that, figuring if I was a cat I might be down to 8 lives.
After what seemed an age I finally got to the bottom of the Soudet. I stopped by a tabac and at last the June edition of Velo was out. This had the full tour route details so at last I could be sure I was following the real thing.
Then I looked for a hotel. My first choice was a posh one but this was already full of cyclists (in fact there was a moment of confusion as when I pulled up the receptionist assumed I was with this group and started showing me to my room).
So I cycled a bit more of my route and came across another hotel in Lurbe St Christau. This looked a bit dilapidated and I was one of only a handful of guests. But appearances can be deceptive. The guy running the hotel was very laid back and welcoming and it had a swimming pool by which I lounged and drank several beers. The for evening meal I ordered pizza, which was excellent, piled high with fresh ingredients.
My first HC and I felt grand. Ready for the challenge of tomorrow and yet more climbing.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Tuesday 6th June Dax>Mauleon Over the first (little) Pyrenee
Distance 135
Time 6:35
Climb 1864
Cols Osquich
Weather Very hot
Exhausted by my long ride I had a very good nights sleep. I awoke and breakfasted. I was, by a comfortable margin, the youngest person in the hotel. Dax is famous for its "cures", a popular continental experience that involves spending time drinking or bathing in smelly water. Despite my fatigue I did not particularly relish trying this out so I set off, somewhat excited as today was going to be the day I did my first "big" hill in the Pyrenees.
It took me a while to escape from Dax but once I did I made good progress until I tried taking a short cut. I should have known better as a rule of mine is that short cuts make for long journies but I ignored at my peril. My map showed a route that meant cutting off a section of road by going up hill. The hill was steep and at the to came to a crossroads. This wasn't on the map so I followed Sigrists law of being lost: (If lost and at a crossroads take the uphill route as if you are wrong you wont feel too bad). So I headed uphill and hit a farm with a loose mad, albeit small, dog. This chased me and I sprinted to the summit then hurtled down the other side. This bought me to:
Time 6:35
Climb 1864
Cols Osquich
Weather Very hot
Exhausted by my long ride I had a very good nights sleep. I awoke and breakfasted. I was, by a comfortable margin, the youngest person in the hotel. Dax is famous for its "cures", a popular continental experience that involves spending time drinking or bathing in smelly water. Despite my fatigue I did not particularly relish trying this out so I set off, somewhat excited as today was going to be the day I did my first "big" hill in the Pyrenees.
It took me a while to escape from Dax but once I did I made good progress until I tried taking a short cut. I should have known better as a rule of mine is that short cuts make for long journies but I ignored at my peril. My map showed a route that meant cutting off a section of road by going up hill. The hill was steep and at the to came to a crossroads. This wasn't on the map so I followed Sigrists law of being lost: (If lost and at a crossroads take the uphill route as if you are wrong you wont feel too bad). So I headed uphill and hit a farm with a loose mad, albeit small, dog. This chased me and I sprinted to the summit then hurtled down the other side. This bought me to:
- Another farm
- A dead end
- Another dog on the loose, this time very big.
The latter did not chase me. It simply eyed me up and down as if deciding which bit would taste best. With as much dignity as possible I did a u turn and sprinted back up hill before it could make up its mind. Exhausted I reached the top of the hill. And the farm. And the mad loose dog. That chased me again over the other side. I hammered as fast as I could and shot back down and through the crossroads.
After a while I stopped. Completely lost. Thanks to my compass I knew which direction I was travelling in but not which of the roads that made a maze on my map. I carried on, hoping to find some habitation, free of dogs, that would get me back on track.
Eventually I came to a stone masons. Several chaps were hard at work inside but they stopped to show me the correct route. This got me to a village where I managed to sneak into an Intermarche 2 minutes before closing to grab a bite of lunch.
It was getting increasingly hot as I pedalled on. To add to my woes my gear changing was becoming tricky as it seemed to be getting difficult to get the chain to stick to one cog on my rear cassette. Eventually the chain came off . Putting it back on I got a rude surprise. It seemed to be coming to pieces. A number of the little pins that hold the links together where loose and poking out. I guess this was the consequence of all the km plus the rain in Belgium.
Fortunately I had stopped just in front of a petrol station. So I was able to carry out a messy bodge by using my multi-tools chain tool to poke the pins back in then buy some oils and cleaning rags for the bike and my hands.
I carried on, negotiating my way through a few rue barres until eventually I took a turn leading to the col Osquich. This is a diddy col, a 3rd cat 500m pimple. However it was my first official col of the tour and I approached it with some trepidation, the more so as it was getting very hot.
There were helpful signs at the side of the road telling me distance covered and % gradient to come and I counted these down until I reached the summit. There was a restaurant there and I stopped for a beer and to take in the view, basking in the sun and the glory of making the climb.
After a while I continued to Mauleon. I had booked into a hotel in the centre of the village. The hotel was great, very old and feeling like a castle. Dinner was had in an open courtyard at the centre of the hotel and I ate and drank like a lord, looking forward (and with some fear) to the next day when I would be climbing a real mountain for the first time in my life.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Monday 5th June Montendre>Dax The Longest Day
Distance 238
Time 9:05
Climb 647
Weather Very hot
I wake earlyish still not sure of travel plans following the sad news of my Aunt's death. I want to go back to the UK for the funeral but this means less cycling days and needing to sort out logistics of how to get from/to the UK.
Over breakfast with the family I find out I was lucky to hit on their B&B as there is nothing much by way of accommodation quite a way south. I venture a thought that is going through my head, to cycle down to Dax today. They confirm its well over 200k and think its way to far. But I am not sure. Its flattish and the only way I can make it back to the UK and complete my tour is to get myself well ahead of schedule. This looks like a way to gain a day in one full stroke.
So I head off south. I keep up a very good pace averaging over 30kph for the first couple of hours. The going is fair but no easy since I am heading through some of the most famous vineyards in the worlds. I pass many a sign offering "degustation gratuit" in a cave but have to pass them all up. Quite apart from the need to press on I don't think I would be so welcome, a fly bespattered cyclist is not going to buy many bottles of grand cru.
My average speed drops, mainly due to the roads east of Bordeaux being a maze, meandering here and there with few signs. At one stage I get passed by another cyclist. I speed up a bit to get a tow, today I need all the help I can get.
Around midday I check my progress and think Dax is doable. I phone ahead to book a hotel. Shortly after I lose time by getting hopelessly lost in the vineyards, eventually finding my way with the help of a charming old couple.
One thing I had not factored into my plans was it being a bank holiday (Pentecost I believe). Watering holes were few and far between and the weather was getting very very hot. I was starting to get desperate when I passed by a bar that seemed open. As I stopped and entered a host of firemen/ladies left (not I am glad to say on business, they had been having some bash or other). I had some baguettes and lots of beer and pushed on.
South of Bordeaux is quite amazing. Its a vast regional park "Landes Gascogne" http://www.parc-landes-de-gascogne.fr/
Cycling through it is very strange. The going is dead easy, because it is completely flat. But also strangely hard because the roads are arrow straight through the middle of unending forest. So no matter how long you cycle you dont seem to be making any progress.
After a while the tedium is relieved when another cyclist flashes past. I put on a sprint and catch him. Turns out he is a triathlete who goes in for Iron man competitions, including those in mountains. He is super fit, out doing intervals. When he speeds up he leaves me for dead but recovers and lets me catch up. He is heading to Pissos (confusingly for the French pronounced piss-oss) where we split. He is heading for a swim in a nice cool lake, something I would appreciate rather than the mile upon mile of hot forest I have to get through.
Progress is rapid though and I head down through Morcenx to pick up the autoroute. Not planning to ride down it but a road runs parallel to it that makes navigation easy. However I also see a sign that says its 46km to Dax. Knowing I will be late at the hotel I phone ahead, they say fine but warn me that dinner stops being served at 9.00 which gives me just under two hours to cover the remaining distance. Should be easy but its been a long day.
Push hard and in fact make it with 30 mins to spare. Still I am the only guest in the dining room and the chef is anxious to finish. So I just order a melon and steak. I have certainly enjoyed my meal. 238km in a single day is more than any stage of this years tour and a PB by a comfortable margin for myself.
Only niggle is that my right toe is giving me real gip. I put it down (wrongly as it later turns out) to road vibration and me only wearing one sock. Needless to say I have little difficulty sleeping.
Time 9:05
Climb 647
Weather Very hot
I wake earlyish still not sure of travel plans following the sad news of my Aunt's death. I want to go back to the UK for the funeral but this means less cycling days and needing to sort out logistics of how to get from/to the UK.
Over breakfast with the family I find out I was lucky to hit on their B&B as there is nothing much by way of accommodation quite a way south. I venture a thought that is going through my head, to cycle down to Dax today. They confirm its well over 200k and think its way to far. But I am not sure. Its flattish and the only way I can make it back to the UK and complete my tour is to get myself well ahead of schedule. This looks like a way to gain a day in one full stroke.
So I head off south. I keep up a very good pace averaging over 30kph for the first couple of hours. The going is fair but no easy since I am heading through some of the most famous vineyards in the worlds. I pass many a sign offering "degustation gratuit" in a cave but have to pass them all up. Quite apart from the need to press on I don't think I would be so welcome, a fly bespattered cyclist is not going to buy many bottles of grand cru.
My average speed drops, mainly due to the roads east of Bordeaux being a maze, meandering here and there with few signs. At one stage I get passed by another cyclist. I speed up a bit to get a tow, today I need all the help I can get.
Around midday I check my progress and think Dax is doable. I phone ahead to book a hotel. Shortly after I lose time by getting hopelessly lost in the vineyards, eventually finding my way with the help of a charming old couple.
One thing I had not factored into my plans was it being a bank holiday (Pentecost I believe). Watering holes were few and far between and the weather was getting very very hot. I was starting to get desperate when I passed by a bar that seemed open. As I stopped and entered a host of firemen/ladies left (not I am glad to say on business, they had been having some bash or other). I had some baguettes and lots of beer and pushed on.
South of Bordeaux is quite amazing. Its a vast regional park "Landes Gascogne" http://www.parc-landes-de-gascogne.fr/
Cycling through it is very strange. The going is dead easy, because it is completely flat. But also strangely hard because the roads are arrow straight through the middle of unending forest. So no matter how long you cycle you dont seem to be making any progress.
After a while the tedium is relieved when another cyclist flashes past. I put on a sprint and catch him. Turns out he is a triathlete who goes in for Iron man competitions, including those in mountains. He is super fit, out doing intervals. When he speeds up he leaves me for dead but recovers and lets me catch up. He is heading to Pissos (confusingly for the French pronounced piss-oss) where we split. He is heading for a swim in a nice cool lake, something I would appreciate rather than the mile upon mile of hot forest I have to get through.
Progress is rapid though and I head down through Morcenx to pick up the autoroute. Not planning to ride down it but a road runs parallel to it that makes navigation easy. However I also see a sign that says its 46km to Dax. Knowing I will be late at the hotel I phone ahead, they say fine but warn me that dinner stops being served at 9.00 which gives me just under two hours to cover the remaining distance. Should be easy but its been a long day.
Push hard and in fact make it with 30 mins to spare. Still I am the only guest in the dining room and the chef is anxious to finish. So I just order a melon and steak. I have certainly enjoyed my meal. 238km in a single day is more than any stage of this years tour and a PB by a comfortable margin for myself.
Only niggle is that my right toe is giving me real gip. I put it down (wrongly as it later turns out) to road vibration and me only wearing one sock. Needless to say I have little difficulty sleeping.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Sunday 4th June Rochefort>Montendre Good day sad night
Distance 150
Time 6:06
Climb 801
Weather Sunny
Fantastic breakfast. Quite the best of the whole trip despite the La Fayette being "only" a 2 star hotel. Fresh fruit salad, carpaccio ham, huge range of cereals, great fresh bread and croissants. Wonderful.
Leave Rochefort by the "pont transpondeur", a quite unique contraption that is a cross between a bridge and a cable car.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transporter_bridge
Perfect for cycles as takes minor roads out of Rochefort. Meet French/German couple who are also on cycling trip. German is pedalling a fixed gear bike along with trailer, looks hard work!
Wave goodbye to them but not for long as I confidently head for the area of France I know best after the Alsace I get lost and end up a dead end in some oyster beds. Return to point I got lost to see the couple again. Wave goodbye again and then think I have taken wrong direction into Marennes so again see them going in as I go out. Take bypass round Marennes to bridge in direction of Normoutier and guess what I see them again coming out of Marennes. Wave goodby for final time and head over to Ronce. Cycle down familar road along coast to La Palmayre/Royan.
This road brings back many happy memories of camping holidays past. There is a hill on hte road that I used to think was tough. It goes up about 30m at 8% or so...so things have changed a bit!
It was along this road that I noted in my diary the problem of using sun tan lotion (now the weather was getting so good): you become a mobile fly trap and end up with face and arms spattered with dead insects. After a few days of this I gave up on the lotion.
South of Royan I left familiar territory as I cycled south down the mouth of the Gironde. I needed to stop for lunch but there were not many villages. However I lucked upon a restaurant by the side of the road that looked very unprepossessing but turned out to be excellent. Think it was called Moulin de Monards. I remember particularly how kind the waiter was, not looking at all nonplussed by having a bespattered cyclist turning up and offering to fill my bidons (an offer I gratefully took up as it was getting very warm).
I push on in the afternoon finally reaching Montendre. I found most of the little towns and villages on my tour to be quite pleasant, but this was an exception. It was very dreary with a main strip that was more reminiscent of a mid-West American town rather than a French one. There were a couple of hotels but both were very run down to the extent that it was not even obvious they were still functioning.
I gave both a miss and resigned myself to having to head further south, which was a bit worrying as I was heading into countryside off the beaten tourist track.
Luck however was on my side because as I followed the road out of time I spotted a "Chambre D' Hote" sign pointing down a gravelled road. I knew what this was. It had been mentioned by one of my French colleagues when I had told them what I was planning. Chambre D'Hote is the French equivalent of Bed&Breakfast.
I descended and scrunched up this until I came to a large detatched house. There were clear signs of life, washing was on the line and windows were open. I scrunched up to the door, noticing as I did a lot of donkies in an ajoining field. I rang the bell a few times but no joy. Just as I was about to give in a lady appeared. She spoke no English but my French was more than sufficent to establish that: yes she had a room and yes I could stay the night. I thanked my lucky stars and followed her to a super large room at the back of the house. The lady explained that they did not serve dinner but recommended a restaurant back in Montendre.
All was seeming pretty OK. I phoned Mrs M only to receive some very sad news. One of my aunts back in the UK had died. I was especially sad about this because she was my favourite who I had known all my life as she lived in the same city as my parents. She was a wonderful person, who everyone seems to have been loved by all who met her. Typical of her was the way she reacted in the face of the cancer that would eventually kill her, somehow managing to keep smiling despite how she must have suffered.
I finished the phone call with my head in a bit of a whirl. I took my maps with me to my meal realising I would have to do some replanning as I felt I wanted to come back to the UK for the funeral that would be taking place in a few days time.
Time 6:06
Climb 801
Weather Sunny
Fantastic breakfast. Quite the best of the whole trip despite the La Fayette being "only" a 2 star hotel. Fresh fruit salad, carpaccio ham, huge range of cereals, great fresh bread and croissants. Wonderful.
Leave Rochefort by the "pont transpondeur", a quite unique contraption that is a cross between a bridge and a cable car.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transporter_bridge
Perfect for cycles as takes minor roads out of Rochefort. Meet French/German couple who are also on cycling trip. German is pedalling a fixed gear bike along with trailer, looks hard work!
Wave goodbye to them but not for long as I confidently head for the area of France I know best after the Alsace I get lost and end up a dead end in some oyster beds. Return to point I got lost to see the couple again. Wave goodbye again and then think I have taken wrong direction into Marennes so again see them going in as I go out. Take bypass round Marennes to bridge in direction of Normoutier and guess what I see them again coming out of Marennes. Wave goodby for final time and head over to Ronce. Cycle down familar road along coast to La Palmayre/Royan.
This road brings back many happy memories of camping holidays past. There is a hill on hte road that I used to think was tough. It goes up about 30m at 8% or so...so things have changed a bit!
It was along this road that I noted in my diary the problem of using sun tan lotion (now the weather was getting so good): you become a mobile fly trap and end up with face and arms spattered with dead insects. After a few days of this I gave up on the lotion.
South of Royan I left familiar territory as I cycled south down the mouth of the Gironde. I needed to stop for lunch but there were not many villages. However I lucked upon a restaurant by the side of the road that looked very unprepossessing but turned out to be excellent. Think it was called Moulin de Monards. I remember particularly how kind the waiter was, not looking at all nonplussed by having a bespattered cyclist turning up and offering to fill my bidons (an offer I gratefully took up as it was getting very warm).
I push on in the afternoon finally reaching Montendre. I found most of the little towns and villages on my tour to be quite pleasant, but this was an exception. It was very dreary with a main strip that was more reminiscent of a mid-West American town rather than a French one. There were a couple of hotels but both were very run down to the extent that it was not even obvious they were still functioning.
I gave both a miss and resigned myself to having to head further south, which was a bit worrying as I was heading into countryside off the beaten tourist track.
Luck however was on my side because as I followed the road out of time I spotted a "Chambre D' Hote" sign pointing down a gravelled road. I knew what this was. It had been mentioned by one of my French colleagues when I had told them what I was planning. Chambre D'Hote is the French equivalent of Bed&Breakfast.
I descended and scrunched up this until I came to a large detatched house. There were clear signs of life, washing was on the line and windows were open. I scrunched up to the door, noticing as I did a lot of donkies in an ajoining field. I rang the bell a few times but no joy. Just as I was about to give in a lady appeared. She spoke no English but my French was more than sufficent to establish that: yes she had a room and yes I could stay the night. I thanked my lucky stars and followed her to a super large room at the back of the house. The lady explained that they did not serve dinner but recommended a restaurant back in Montendre.
All was seeming pretty OK. I phoned Mrs M only to receive some very sad news. One of my aunts back in the UK had died. I was especially sad about this because she was my favourite who I had known all my life as she lived in the same city as my parents. She was a wonderful person, who everyone seems to have been loved by all who met her. Typical of her was the way she reacted in the face of the cancer that would eventually kill her, somehow managing to keep smiling despite how she must have suffered.
I finished the phone call with my head in a bit of a whirl. I took my maps with me to my meal realising I would have to do some replanning as I felt I wanted to come back to the UK for the funeral that would be taking place in a few days time.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Saturday 3rd June La Trance>Rochefort Nice and easy in the sun
Distance 107 km
Time 4:48
Climb 182
Weather Sunny
After yesterdays exertions of various types today proved to be easy going. It was my second recovery day so I had a lie in and a long breakfast.
My first recovery day proved to be a bit too easy so I planned on doing a few more km this time but keep my heart rate nice and low. Rochefort, a large town 100km to the south, looked the ideal point to aim at so I set off with the intention of stopping there.
Over breakfast I decided to trust to luck and assume the need to buy some lip balm yesterday meant the sun was out to stay. So I decided to swap the lenses on my sunglasses from clear to dark. This proved to be the hardest thing I did all day as it took the best part of 30 minutes to wrestle the lenses into postion. I very sincerely hoped it was going to stay sunny for the rest of the trip...
As a similar mark of faith in the French weather I also dispensed with my arm warmers for the first time in my trip.
The route was flat as a pancake, perfect for an easy ride. While stopping for a quick call of nature a group of 5 French cyclists passed by. They were not going too quickly so it was quite easy for me to catch up with them and I passed a few pleasantries, then they waved adieu and put on a sprint. I don't think they were the fittest group of cyclists in the world as this breif period of speed petered out very quickly and I could quite easily have caught up with them again. However they had a distinct lack of road sense, weaving all over road and causing more than one car to take a late change of direction to avoid them.
I did not want to overtake them as this may have involved getting into a competition with them to stay ahead and I did not want to break my recovery day rule. So I stayed a safe distance behind, marvelling at their utter disregard for every rule of road safety.
Still this experience proved beneficial when we came to a rue barree. I was very happy to see the French contingent move aside the barriers blocking the road an cycle on. This probably explained why French workmen were used to seeing cyclists. The road barreed was long and straight and we did have a brief moment of excitement when a couple of motor bikes whizzed by, taking the opportunity of the deserted tarmac to see how far and fast they could pull a wheelie.
In following the group I actually missed my turning and ended up on a main N road. However proved to be a lucky missed turn of events as the road went straight to Rochefort and the wind was blowing straight behind me. So I motored along at over 20mph without my heart much getting over 110 bpm.
My luck continued in Rochefort. Being a big town I had not bothered to book a hotel in advance. I cycled around and stopped outside a hotel. The owner popped out and asked if I wanted to store my bike. This is the first time this has happened, so I said oui and he showed me a garage round the back. I then checked in and found the hotel (La Fayette) to be a real find. It was a basic hotel but just very well renovated with lots of real wood and small touches that made it a million miles away from being an Ibis despite costing less per night. It was also a non-smoking hotel. It had no restaurant but this was no problem as it was right in the centre of town with lots of restaurants nearby.
So very strongly recommended, details here.
http://www.hotel-lafayette-rochefort.fr/home.php
I had ample time to look round Rochefort before having an evening meal. It turned out to be a nice town, having a long naval history, interesting to see from the French side of view (as most of it their sea history has been one of rivalry to England).
Alongside the river was a park and pretty buildings, which surprisingly turned out to be a factory to make rope.
http://www.corderie-royale.com/13_visitez_anglais/pop_up/corderie_royale.html
All in all a perfect day. I rounded it off in style by heading off to an Italian restaurant and having a pizza followed by a pasta, not caring a jot that my lack of exertions of the day hardly merited such a repas.
Time 4:48
Climb 182
Weather Sunny
After yesterdays exertions of various types today proved to be easy going. It was my second recovery day so I had a lie in and a long breakfast.
My first recovery day proved to be a bit too easy so I planned on doing a few more km this time but keep my heart rate nice and low. Rochefort, a large town 100km to the south, looked the ideal point to aim at so I set off with the intention of stopping there.
Over breakfast I decided to trust to luck and assume the need to buy some lip balm yesterday meant the sun was out to stay. So I decided to swap the lenses on my sunglasses from clear to dark. This proved to be the hardest thing I did all day as it took the best part of 30 minutes to wrestle the lenses into postion. I very sincerely hoped it was going to stay sunny for the rest of the trip...
As a similar mark of faith in the French weather I also dispensed with my arm warmers for the first time in my trip.
The route was flat as a pancake, perfect for an easy ride. While stopping for a quick call of nature a group of 5 French cyclists passed by. They were not going too quickly so it was quite easy for me to catch up with them and I passed a few pleasantries, then they waved adieu and put on a sprint. I don't think they were the fittest group of cyclists in the world as this breif period of speed petered out very quickly and I could quite easily have caught up with them again. However they had a distinct lack of road sense, weaving all over road and causing more than one car to take a late change of direction to avoid them.
I did not want to overtake them as this may have involved getting into a competition with them to stay ahead and I did not want to break my recovery day rule. So I stayed a safe distance behind, marvelling at their utter disregard for every rule of road safety.
Still this experience proved beneficial when we came to a rue barree. I was very happy to see the French contingent move aside the barriers blocking the road an cycle on. This probably explained why French workmen were used to seeing cyclists. The road barreed was long and straight and we did have a brief moment of excitement when a couple of motor bikes whizzed by, taking the opportunity of the deserted tarmac to see how far and fast they could pull a wheelie.
In following the group I actually missed my turning and ended up on a main N road. However proved to be a lucky missed turn of events as the road went straight to Rochefort and the wind was blowing straight behind me. So I motored along at over 20mph without my heart much getting over 110 bpm.
My luck continued in Rochefort. Being a big town I had not bothered to book a hotel in advance. I cycled around and stopped outside a hotel. The owner popped out and asked if I wanted to store my bike. This is the first time this has happened, so I said oui and he showed me a garage round the back. I then checked in and found the hotel (La Fayette) to be a real find. It was a basic hotel but just very well renovated with lots of real wood and small touches that made it a million miles away from being an Ibis despite costing less per night. It was also a non-smoking hotel. It had no restaurant but this was no problem as it was right in the centre of town with lots of restaurants nearby.
So very strongly recommended, details here.
http://www.hotel-lafayette-rochefort.fr/home.php
I had ample time to look round Rochefort before having an evening meal. It turned out to be a nice town, having a long naval history, interesting to see from the French side of view (as most of it their sea history has been one of rivalry to England).
Alongside the river was a park and pretty buildings, which surprisingly turned out to be a factory to make rope.
http://www.corderie-royale.com/13_visitez_anglais/pop_up/corderie_royale.html
All in all a perfect day. I rounded it off in style by heading off to an Italian restaurant and having a pizza followed by a pasta, not caring a jot that my lack of exertions of the day hardly merited such a repas.
Friday 2nd June Kerinhet>Les Tranche Feeling bad but ride well
Distance 184k
Time 7:47
Climb 600
Weather Sunny
Had a terrible night. Major break down of rear end, caused I think by an unhealthy combination of long days cycling, rich meals and stupidly not heeding advice in French Revolutions not to put orange juice in my bidons.
I will spare graphic details. Suffice to say that over the course of the night I became intimately acquainted with my bathroom and was in severe danger of running out of toilet paper.
Getting breakfast proved a bit tricky as I seemed to be the only person actually staying in the village/hotel. Eventually I tracked someone down and forced myself to eat some bread and jam.
Not surprisingly I started the day with some apprehension and did not book any hotel in advance as I was not sure if I would be able to manage 10km let alone 100.
I recalled stories I had read about Greg Lemond on the tour and how he had ridden one stage in a condition similar to mine. He had bravely pedalled on (equally bravely the rest of the tour had allowed him to), I was not so sure I would be able to.
I only had one priority, to find a pharmacist to get some anti-poo pills. Fortunately I found one quite quickly. Equally fortunately the French for diarrhoea is the same as the English and I knew enough of French customs not to be embarassed asking for some pills for my bottom. (The French for reasons known only to themselves seem to quite like sticking pills up their backsides, a frequent danger when buying medicines there is to get them home and realise you have been given suppositories rather than pills. Fortunately they are not sufficiently wierd as to give you a suppostitory to fix a runny bottom. That said had it been a Sunday and the shops closed I guess my only resort would have been to buy a bottle of wine and use the cork).
After popping a couple of pills I felt remarkably better. In fact strangely despite being very tired in the head after next to no sleep I felt quite strong pedalling. Things were helped as the going was very easy, long flat straight roads linking village to village. The weather was great as well, lovely and sunny. Too sunny in fact as no sooner had I sorted out one orifice than another started to cause me problems and I had to make the second chemist stop of the day to get some lip balm.
Lips balmed I pushed on, trusting this would be the end of my drug stops.
It proved to be which was a good thing as apart from my internal disorders I had one of the scariest bits of my trip ahead of me. To avoid a massive detour I had decided to head down to St Nazaire, cycly through the town and over the big bridge that spans the Loire. (For bridge fans here are the details:
http://en.structurae.de/structures/data/index.cfm?ID=s0000046
When planning my trip I had blithely assumed that I could cycle over this bridge. When I got closer I was not so sure, it had no cycle path and very little separated bike from truck. However I did not fancy the alternative of cycling north to find another route so I pushed on. It was hard work cycling up to the middle of the bridge, but then very fast going down the other side. So fast in fact that I almost cycled through a road crew working the other end. They looked very surprised to see me so I guess not many French are mad enough to take this route.
Had several more encounters with cyclists and rues barres.
Regarding the latter I decided following my puncture experience to ignore them. This policy worked remarkably well and every time I managed to get through the road works, usually without the French workmen batting an eyelid. (Looking back I did push my luck once. The road barred was in fact a pont non-existant with just a plank going 20m or so over a river. I picked my bike up and walked over this only later realising how tricky this must have been given the fact I was wearing cleats.)
As the day wore on my anti-poo pills started to really work, to the extent I was even able to risk breaking wind. This being a sure sign things were on the up I stopped of at a Logis and booked a Logis ahead in La Tranche (great system, you can do this for free).
When I finally got to my hotel I had done 184km, the longest day of my trip so far, and way beyond how far I thought I would get given the condition I started the day in.
Time 7:47
Climb 600
Weather Sunny
Had a terrible night. Major break down of rear end, caused I think by an unhealthy combination of long days cycling, rich meals and stupidly not heeding advice in French Revolutions not to put orange juice in my bidons.
I will spare graphic details. Suffice to say that over the course of the night I became intimately acquainted with my bathroom and was in severe danger of running out of toilet paper.
Getting breakfast proved a bit tricky as I seemed to be the only person actually staying in the village/hotel. Eventually I tracked someone down and forced myself to eat some bread and jam.
Not surprisingly I started the day with some apprehension and did not book any hotel in advance as I was not sure if I would be able to manage 10km let alone 100.
I recalled stories I had read about Greg Lemond on the tour and how he had ridden one stage in a condition similar to mine. He had bravely pedalled on (equally bravely the rest of the tour had allowed him to), I was not so sure I would be able to.
I only had one priority, to find a pharmacist to get some anti-poo pills. Fortunately I found one quite quickly. Equally fortunately the French for diarrhoea is the same as the English and I knew enough of French customs not to be embarassed asking for some pills for my bottom. (The French for reasons known only to themselves seem to quite like sticking pills up their backsides, a frequent danger when buying medicines there is to get them home and realise you have been given suppositories rather than pills. Fortunately they are not sufficiently wierd as to give you a suppostitory to fix a runny bottom. That said had it been a Sunday and the shops closed I guess my only resort would have been to buy a bottle of wine and use the cork).
After popping a couple of pills I felt remarkably better. In fact strangely despite being very tired in the head after next to no sleep I felt quite strong pedalling. Things were helped as the going was very easy, long flat straight roads linking village to village. The weather was great as well, lovely and sunny. Too sunny in fact as no sooner had I sorted out one orifice than another started to cause me problems and I had to make the second chemist stop of the day to get some lip balm.
Lips balmed I pushed on, trusting this would be the end of my drug stops.
It proved to be which was a good thing as apart from my internal disorders I had one of the scariest bits of my trip ahead of me. To avoid a massive detour I had decided to head down to St Nazaire, cycly through the town and over the big bridge that spans the Loire. (For bridge fans here are the details:
http://en.structurae.de/structures/data/index.cfm?ID=s0000046
When planning my trip I had blithely assumed that I could cycle over this bridge. When I got closer I was not so sure, it had no cycle path and very little separated bike from truck. However I did not fancy the alternative of cycling north to find another route so I pushed on. It was hard work cycling up to the middle of the bridge, but then very fast going down the other side. So fast in fact that I almost cycled through a road crew working the other end. They looked very surprised to see me so I guess not many French are mad enough to take this route.
Had several more encounters with cyclists and rues barres.
Regarding the latter I decided following my puncture experience to ignore them. This policy worked remarkably well and every time I managed to get through the road works, usually without the French workmen batting an eyelid. (Looking back I did push my luck once. The road barred was in fact a pont non-existant with just a plank going 20m or so over a river. I picked my bike up and walked over this only later realising how tricky this must have been given the fact I was wearing cleats.)
As the day wore on my anti-poo pills started to really work, to the extent I was even able to risk breaking wind. This being a sure sign things were on the up I stopped of at a Logis and booked a Logis ahead in La Tranche (great system, you can do this for free).
When I finally got to my hotel I had done 184km, the longest day of my trip so far, and way beyond how far I thought I would get given the condition I started the day in.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Thursday 8th June Larbe>Argeles Gazost More cols and meeting the English
Distance 83
Time 4:48
Climb 2112
Cols Marie-Blanque, Aubisque
Weather Hot
Decide to do Aubisque as nearby and need to stay on in Pyrenees for longer than planned
The unplanned trip home means I will be staying for longer in the Pyrenees than I orginally planned so as to make the flight. So I decide to change my route a bit and take in the Aubisque, a famous HC climb but not one on the 2006 route.
The Marie-Blanque is also on the menu for today. This was a climb that Tim Moore did and he recounted how difficult it was, apparently it being one even the pros find hard. This despite the fact that its a lesser Cat 1 climb, what makes it tricky are the last 4k at 10%+.
At breakfast it looks as if I was the only overnight guest at the hotel.
Turns out only guest at hotel.
Earlyish start to Marie-Blanque. Read ahead so know the last 4 k are difficult.
Prove to be the case, especially as roads not v good. But overtake others which is always good for the morale
Get to top and blown away by scenery. Just expecting up and over but in fact beautiful plateau. Almost too beautiful as I nearly get run over by driver who is looking everywhere but the road ahead.
Surviving this I move onto Aubisque which has dreaded 3 chevron on it somewhere on it. Actually it turns out to be easier than the previous 2 climbs as road surface good and finding a rythm is straightforward. Only problem was taking wrong turn in a town and heading up and around car park (which was very steep, much steeper than the 3 chevron bit of road which was a bit of an anticlimax as Marie Blanque was a lot worse)
The Aubisque was the busiest mountain yet in terms of other cyclists. Happily I was overtaking rather than being overtaken, though one guy did pass me. By coincidence he turned out to be another Brit and when I reached the top I saw him along with a number of others. Speaking to them it turned out they were on an organised trip. (Later I realised they were doing the Raid Pyreneen). I got some tips from the guide about the descent, main one being "when you get into the tunnel remember to turn right at the end".
The cafe at the summit served some of the biggest sandwiches I had ever seen. These took a while to eat and I passed the time talking to another chap, from Ireland, who extolled the virtues of his home country for cyclists. I made a mental note to go over there some time.
I set off again, a bit too quickly as I had been there so long I had forgotten I had to settle up and the waitress had to call me back.
The descent was very fast and would have been faster had I not been held up by a car. I was surprised how poor parts of the road were. Eventually I came to the tunnel and was grateful for the warning received as just after it ended there was a sharp turn right (straight on would have been straight down..)
My chain was continuing to cause problems and when got to Argeles Gazost, my stopover for the night, I headed to the local bike shop. I got a new one fitted (KMC), which the owner told me would be quite expensive (40euros or so). However it did the business and proved to be a very good investment, seeing me through to the end of the trip and lasting several thousands of miles afterwards.
I stayed at a very nice, if bit expensive hotel. They were used to having cyclists, indeed the lady owner was very willing to tell me that Lance Armstrong had stayed there while training. (Apparently he wanted to ride the Tourmalet, but this was closed due to snow. So in high dudgeon he rode up and down the Hautacam twice..). Noting my computer she also mentioned that the first thing Armstrong did on returning from rides was load data up into a computer. Part of the secret of his success no doubt.
I had some time to kill so went for a walk around the town in the evening sunshine. Nice park with small casino. Then had an excellent meal before turning in for bed. Today had been a bit of an entree, tomorrow brought the main course in the form of the highest mountain in Pyrenees: Tourmalet.
Time 4:48
Climb 2112
Cols Marie-Blanque, Aubisque
Weather Hot
Decide to do Aubisque as nearby and need to stay on in Pyrenees for longer than planned
The unplanned trip home means I will be staying for longer in the Pyrenees than I orginally planned so as to make the flight. So I decide to change my route a bit and take in the Aubisque, a famous HC climb but not one on the 2006 route.
The Marie-Blanque is also on the menu for today. This was a climb that Tim Moore did and he recounted how difficult it was, apparently it being one even the pros find hard. This despite the fact that its a lesser Cat 1 climb, what makes it tricky are the last 4k at 10%+.
At breakfast it looks as if I was the only overnight guest at the hotel.
Turns out only guest at hotel.
Earlyish start to Marie-Blanque. Read ahead so know the last 4 k are difficult.
Prove to be the case, especially as roads not v good. But overtake others which is always good for the morale
Get to top and blown away by scenery. Just expecting up and over but in fact beautiful plateau. Almost too beautiful as I nearly get run over by driver who is looking everywhere but the road ahead.
Surviving this I move onto Aubisque which has dreaded 3 chevron on it somewhere on it. Actually it turns out to be easier than the previous 2 climbs as road surface good and finding a rythm is straightforward. Only problem was taking wrong turn in a town and heading up and around car park (which was very steep, much steeper than the 3 chevron bit of road which was a bit of an anticlimax as Marie Blanque was a lot worse)
The Aubisque was the busiest mountain yet in terms of other cyclists. Happily I was overtaking rather than being overtaken, though one guy did pass me. By coincidence he turned out to be another Brit and when I reached the top I saw him along with a number of others. Speaking to them it turned out they were on an organised trip. (Later I realised they were doing the Raid Pyreneen). I got some tips from the guide about the descent, main one being "when you get into the tunnel remember to turn right at the end".
The cafe at the summit served some of the biggest sandwiches I had ever seen. These took a while to eat and I passed the time talking to another chap, from Ireland, who extolled the virtues of his home country for cyclists. I made a mental note to go over there some time.
I set off again, a bit too quickly as I had been there so long I had forgotten I had to settle up and the waitress had to call me back.
The descent was very fast and would have been faster had I not been held up by a car. I was surprised how poor parts of the road were. Eventually I came to the tunnel and was grateful for the warning received as just after it ended there was a sharp turn right (straight on would have been straight down..)
My chain was continuing to cause problems and when got to Argeles Gazost, my stopover for the night, I headed to the local bike shop. I got a new one fitted (KMC), which the owner told me would be quite expensive (40euros or so). However it did the business and proved to be a very good investment, seeing me through to the end of the trip and lasting several thousands of miles afterwards.
I stayed at a very nice, if bit expensive hotel. They were used to having cyclists, indeed the lady owner was very willing to tell me that Lance Armstrong had stayed there while training. (Apparently he wanted to ride the Tourmalet, but this was closed due to snow. So in high dudgeon he rode up and down the Hautacam twice..). Noting my computer she also mentioned that the first thing Armstrong did on returning from rides was load data up into a computer. Part of the secret of his success no doubt.
I had some time to kill so went for a walk around the town in the evening sunshine. Nice park with small casino. Then had an excellent meal before turning in for bed. Today had been a bit of an entree, tomorrow brought the main course in the form of the highest mountain in Pyrenees: Tourmalet.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
TDF Journal Day 11 Wednesday 31st May Rennes>L'Orient Fired up and off to see the sea
Distance 175
Time 7:07
Climb 1226
Weather Sun
This turned out to be a lovely day. The sun shined throughout and I rode my longest distance to date, 175km, including over 1200m of climbing up and down over the rolling Brittany countryside.
I had thought that, given the size of the city, I would find it hard to get out of Rennes. But in fact navigation proved to be the least of my early morning problems. Prior to my trip I had obviously thought about (and worried about but not too much) the various hazards that might befall me. Punctures yes, falls maybe, sunburn, beesting, saddle boils...for a pessimist the list could go on forever. However I must say that I did not think I would catch fire!
But today I managed just that. Following my early three-course-blow-out-lunch mistake I had taken to just having a light lunch. When possible I would buy this in advance, hanging a few croissants, cheese etc in a plastic bag from my rear saddle bag. This had worked perfectly well except today the bag, unbeknownst to me, slipped and started to rub against my rear tyre.
I put my rather hard progress through the streets of Rennes down to the after effects of rather too much food the night before. Also the rather strange odour that seemed to be everywhere I put down to big city smells, that I had become unused to with all the fresh air and countryside I had been experiencing. However when I stopped at some traffic lights I was a bit surprised to be surrounded by some tendrils of smoke. I looked behind and found that my lunch of pain au chocolats was smoldering away on back wheel. I quickly jumped off my bike and poured some water over my "lunch" to put it out. Sadly nothing could be salvaged and I would need ot search for some food later in the day. However on the plus side my pedaling became a lot easier..
Once out of Rennes I had a great day of cycling. The weather was perfect, the roads quiet and rolling. I made very good progress, at one stage even managing to overtake 2 cars and a tractor on a fast bit of downhill.
Everything was perfect up until about 10 km out of my destination for the day, L'Orient. I had covered over 160km in the day and was at the stage of wanting to get to my hotel and have a shower and a meal. Fortunately, I thought, that would be easy as I was on a road that led dead straight to the heart of the town (which was on the sea so downhill all the way.) However, for the second day running, the road abruptly turned into a fast three lane carriage-way, where cycles were not allowed but also had no-where to go.
Having wasted time and effort trying to find a way into Rennes I was in no mood to repeat today. So I decided to cycle down the hard shoulder and see what happened. I figured the second worst thing (the first worst involved a big truck) that could happen to me was that the police would pass by and take exception. But I reasoned, what realistically could they do? and if they did stop me at least I could get them to show me the way.
As it happened my journey was uneventul. Cars and trucks whizzed by ignoring the cyclist in their midst, as if this happened every day. And it probably did because this was after all, France. At one stage I did get a bit worried when I thought I heard a motor bike behind (and thought it was a gendarme) but I turned my head to see I was being followed by a young boy on a moped (also in theory not allowed on this road). Reassured I was not the only mad one on the road I pressed on. I eventually left the road and found the centre of L'Orient.
My day's travel troubles were not quite over. The whole of the centre of L'Orient was being dug up and the directions to my hotel were not at all clear. I had to stop and call Mrs M to see if she could help with directions. Eventually I got to my destination, which turned out to be very nice but did not serve evening meal.
This turned out to be a good thing. As mentioned I had been following the recommendations in the Guide de Routards and today it turned up trumps, leading my to probably the best restaurnant of my tour. At first it did not seem too promising. L'Orient is by the sea but I to leave this behind and walk through some of the less well heeled areas to find my dinner. I arrived early so had a picon at a very nice bar before going the the restaurant. Entering was like going into someones home. The decor was modern but friendly with large windows at the rear looking out onto a small garden. I was the first diner to arrive and was greeted by the husband of the couple who ran the restaurant. He was the sommelier, his wife the chef. When I expressed an interest in some beer as an aperitif he recommended "Lancelot" from a small local brewery. This turned up and was marvellous. Then he explained the menu which was different from most. There were six dishes and you had the choice to have as many of them or as little as your appetite could manage (if you did not fancy one or two then you could ask for some alternatives.) All the dishes looked tempting and, having cycled over 100 miles in the day, I had an appetite for all of them so I sat back and tucked in.
http://www.brasserie-lancelot.com/
The food was superb. Freshly cooked, portions just sufficient to leave me full but not to bursting. I let the sommelier choose the wine and he surprised me by giving me some Alsatian Tokay that I really liked (despite living in Strasbourg, I am not the greatest fan of Alsace wine). After several happy hours I left the restaurant in a very good mood, the walk back to my hotel helping my digestion and also giving me time to wonder how it was that I had found in the backstreets of a not too fashionable French coastal town a restaurant better than any I had ever been to in the UK.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
TDF Journal Day 10 Tuesday 30th May Domfront>Rennes Tyred Out
Distance 122
Time 5:02
Climb 950
Weather Sun
I did not know it at the time but today marked the first, painful, appearence of two things that that would dog me off and on for the rest of my trip: punctures and "rue barees". The former is a bit ironic as the one thing I was a bit paranoid about at the beginning of my tour preparation was punctures, to the extent that when I started riding again I fitted "Slime" innertubes (which are meant to be self healing). Even despite these my first trips out on my mountain bike resulted in me pushing the bike home after numerous punctures so I ended up taking multiple inner tubes instead.
Anyway, now the weather was getting better and the roads smoother I decided to try blowing my tyres up a bit, so inflated them to 120psi. Theory of this is that the higher the pressure the quicker you go. Maybe but very shortly after doing this I found my tyres were flat. I used both my spares to sort out the problem and set off. Shortly after, bowling downhill through a town I noticed a shop specialising in tractors and cycles. I stopped and bought some replacement tubes.
This turned out to be a very lucky break as after a while I came across a sign saying "rue baree - deviation". Being a law abiding Brit I followed the deviation but regretted it because
a: it was hilly
b: it took me onto a newly tarmaced road with sharp gravel specifically designed to puncture bike tyres. So I ended up repairing the third puncture of the day (under the watchful gaze of an old farmer and his dog).
These unexpected delays put rather a dent in my schedule for the day. I had planned to stay overnight in Rennes, the largest city on my route. But my hoped for early arrival was getting later and later. Things deteriorated when I approached the city itself. I found that that my road in suddenly became a motorway and very dangerous for bikes. Worse there seemed to be no easy detours. I ended up following some farm tracks, very frustratingly being able to see the city in the distance but with no road leading to it.
My compass came in really useful at this point as I used it to take any road that headed west. Eventually I came to a more built up area and was able to follow some cycle paths that got me to Rennes city centre.
By now it was somewhat later than I had planned to arrive and I had no hotel. So I headed to the tourist office where I learned that Rennes was full. Fortunately there was a room at a hotel a short distance from the centre, though it was expensive. Beggers can't be choosers (provided they have a credit card) so I took the room and cycled off to find it. This involved going over lots of cobbled streets so I was thoroughly shaken up by the time I arrived.
Lecoq-Gadby
The hotel (Lecoq Gadby) proved to be small and chic (and dear). The rooms did not have numbers but names. I was in the smallest of them (Napoleon IIII, not sure if the emperor himself was as small as his more famous predecessor). I showered changed and headed off to explore Rennes, armed with a suggest pedestrian route to follow.
Rennes Tourist Info
Had a very pleasant time. Rennes is a very easy city to explore on foot,with a young vibrant feel due to its very large university. It reminded me a bit of Strasbourg (though not quite as nice..) My excursion was made even more pleasant as the evening was warm and sunny. I planned to eat later but the hunger pangs of my somewhat longer than expected day were starting to bite so I had emergency fillup at a fast food pasta bar (not something I had seen anywhere else). I also had time for a beer (large) and a quick call home at one of the many tables outside (as below).
I was away for a couple of hours and the walking had rekindled my appetite. I had a meal the hotel in a very swanky restaurant with some top notch grub/beverages. The Vire-Clesse wine was excellent but the star of the meal was some Epoisse cheese, very smelly, very nice. (Apparently it was called the "King of all cheeses" by Jean Brillat-Savarin the lawyer, politician and according to Wilkipedia possibly the most famous French gastronome of all, whose most famous quote was "Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are". Praise indeed!)
Viree-Clesse
Epoisee info
More Epoisee info
Time 5:02
Climb 950
Weather Sun
I did not know it at the time but today marked the first, painful, appearence of two things that that would dog me off and on for the rest of my trip: punctures and "rue barees". The former is a bit ironic as the one thing I was a bit paranoid about at the beginning of my tour preparation was punctures, to the extent that when I started riding again I fitted "Slime" innertubes (which are meant to be self healing). Even despite these my first trips out on my mountain bike resulted in me pushing the bike home after numerous punctures so I ended up taking multiple inner tubes instead.
Anyway, now the weather was getting better and the roads smoother I decided to try blowing my tyres up a bit, so inflated them to 120psi. Theory of this is that the higher the pressure the quicker you go. Maybe but very shortly after doing this I found my tyres were flat. I used both my spares to sort out the problem and set off. Shortly after, bowling downhill through a town I noticed a shop specialising in tractors and cycles. I stopped and bought some replacement tubes.
This turned out to be a very lucky break as after a while I came across a sign saying "rue baree - deviation". Being a law abiding Brit I followed the deviation but regretted it because
a: it was hilly
b: it took me onto a newly tarmaced road with sharp gravel specifically designed to puncture bike tyres. So I ended up repairing the third puncture of the day (under the watchful gaze of an old farmer and his dog).
These unexpected delays put rather a dent in my schedule for the day. I had planned to stay overnight in Rennes, the largest city on my route. But my hoped for early arrival was getting later and later. Things deteriorated when I approached the city itself. I found that that my road in suddenly became a motorway and very dangerous for bikes. Worse there seemed to be no easy detours. I ended up following some farm tracks, very frustratingly being able to see the city in the distance but with no road leading to it.
My compass came in really useful at this point as I used it to take any road that headed west. Eventually I came to a more built up area and was able to follow some cycle paths that got me to Rennes city centre.
By now it was somewhat later than I had planned to arrive and I had no hotel. So I headed to the tourist office where I learned that Rennes was full. Fortunately there was a room at a hotel a short distance from the centre, though it was expensive. Beggers can't be choosers (provided they have a credit card) so I took the room and cycled off to find it. This involved going over lots of cobbled streets so I was thoroughly shaken up by the time I arrived.
Lecoq-Gadby
The hotel (Lecoq Gadby) proved to be small and chic (and dear). The rooms did not have numbers but names. I was in the smallest of them (Napoleon IIII, not sure if the emperor himself was as small as his more famous predecessor). I showered changed and headed off to explore Rennes, armed with a suggest pedestrian route to follow.
Rennes Tourist Info
Had a very pleasant time. Rennes is a very easy city to explore on foot,with a young vibrant feel due to its very large university. It reminded me a bit of Strasbourg (though not quite as nice..) My excursion was made even more pleasant as the evening was warm and sunny. I planned to eat later but the hunger pangs of my somewhat longer than expected day were starting to bite so I had emergency fillup at a fast food pasta bar (not something I had seen anywhere else). I also had time for a beer (large) and a quick call home at one of the many tables outside (as below).
I was away for a couple of hours and the walking had rekindled my appetite. I had a meal the hotel in a very swanky restaurant with some top notch grub/beverages. The Vire-Clesse wine was excellent but the star of the meal was some Epoisse cheese, very smelly, very nice. (Apparently it was called the "King of all cheeses" by Jean Brillat-Savarin the lawyer, politician and according to Wilkipedia possibly the most famous French gastronome of all, whose most famous quote was "Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are". Praise indeed!)
Viree-Clesse
Epoisee info
More Epoisee info
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
TDF Journal Day 9 Monday 29th May Cormeille>Domfront I'm a cider drinker/Heading South
Distance 155k
Time 6:54
Climb 1525
Weather Sunny and a bit of wind
Had a good nights sleep but on waking found that rather strangely no water was coming out of any taps or the shower. Thought it may be a problem with my room so dressed and went downstairs where I found the manager (and chef) talking animately on the phone. I was soon joined by some other guests with same lack of water problem. When he put the phone down the manager explained that he had just been talking to the mayor. Apparently a pump had broken somewhere and this had stopped water flowing to a section of the town. It was being fixed and should be back on tap within an hour or so.
I must say this quite impressed me. Firstly that the hotel manager could know who to contact, secondly that they could pick up the phone and speak to them and, even more impressively, that they would know about the problem and say when it was going to be fixed. This seemed like quite a good system and might be worth considering in the UK.
The manager suggested we have breakfast, by the end of which normal service should be resumed on the water front. So we did and it was. Very impressive.
Suitably showered I checked out. The manager/chef must have appreciated my appreciation of French fromage as he said he was not charging me for the extra cheese course I ate last night. Very nice of him. I left in a good mood, stopping only to pop into a local shop for my habitual supplies of croissants and some food for the journey.
The ride was uneventful. The weather continued to show signs of improvement, with sunny spells more frequent than cloudy ones. There were one or two heavy showers about but the countryside was so flat that I could see them well in advance and plot my course to avoid them.
I reached Caen, but decided against going into the town centre, instead taking a detour round it. This marked the next major turn point of my trip as I would now start seriously heading due south, which apart from promising warmer climes, also meant that the wretched head wind would increasingly be a thing of the past.
My route took me through Pont D'Ouilly in the area of, appropriately for me, Suisse Normande.
Pont DOuilly info
More Pont Info
As the name suggests this town had a bridge (though over the river Orne not the Ouilly) and as I passed over it the view of the river below was so idyllic that the tourist overtook the cyclist and I had to stop. I negotiated, with some difficulty, the steps down to the river bank and spent happy half hour there, eating my food, taking in the view and generally feeling very good about the world.
I restarted and took a scenic tour through Normandy. As I passed along a country land a sign caught my eye. It advertised farm cider for sale. My bidons were close to empty and it seemed somehow appropriate to top them up with some local brew. So I went down the farm track and found a small cidery. The shop/stockroom was open but no-one appeared to be about. I stomped about and made some noise, then shouted a bit. No-one appeared. There were several thousand bottles (of cider and calvodos) on view and a price card so I thought maybe I was meant just to help myself and pay for what I took. I was just about to do this when the cider maker appeared. He was very friendly but somewhat bemused that a cyclist would want to buy some bottles. However eventually he understood and laughed as I topped up my bidons. He advised me against the doing the same when I got to Bordeaux as the police did not take too kindly to drunk cyclists.
Refuelled I set off again. One thing I had not thought of when filling my bidons was that cider is bubbly. After a few kilometres or less than smooth farm lanes therefore I was surprised to feel a sudden explosion of warm liquid between my legs. My first worry was that all this cycling had had unfortunate effects on my bladder but I then realised that the cider in one of my bidons had been shaken up so much it had reached critical pressure and blown the top off. Luckily there was a simple and enjoyable remedy to this. I drank enought cider from each bidon to leave room for expansion and carried on, a bit the merrier despite/because of having a sticky patch in my cycle shorts.
Eventually I reached Domfront, my resting place for the night. At first sight the Logis did not look particularly welcoming, being on the main road and not a very special building.
But in fact it turned out to be one of my more pleasurable hotel stays. Firstly it was run by a husband and wife couple who seemed to argue with each other constantly, but you got the sense that they had probably done so happily for all their married life and would probably continue to do so for the rest of their days. The wife was also an ardent anti-smoker. Strangely, for France, their hotel was completely "non-fumeur" with signs to this effect all over the place. On first glance the restaurant and menu did not seem very special either but in fact the food, cooked by the husband, was excellent. Classic, simple cooking with a strong local theme and ingredients. I am afraid I was not brave enough to try the tripe but had a lamb shank in beans that was delicious and enhanced by being served on an earthenware plate with a lid with a steamhole, that I had never seen anywhere before. To celebrate this lucky find I had a few more bottles of cidre....
Domfront Site
One thing that surprised me at the days end was how many metres I had climbed during the day. France was proving to be hillier than I had expected.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
TDF Journal Day 8 Sunday 28th May Beauvais>Cormeilles Sun's Out!
Distance 145k
Time 6:37
Climb 853
Weather Sun(:)) & wind
Woke up and headed down for petit dejeuner. The illusion that I was in a home rather than hotel continued as I found I was the only guest and I effectively had breakfast with the family, including their toddler son who played cars under my table.
Following the lull yesterday, Sunday would be no day of rest with a 150K or so planned, including crossing the Seine. I was not sure which route the Tour was going to be taking out of Beauvais. This was because the detailed route the tour takes each year is a closely guarded secret. The main route and "Villes d'etape" are published with a fanfare around October time, but exactly how the riders will get from start to finish (Beauvais to Caen in this case) is not revealed until the June edition of the Velo magazine hits the newstands. When I left the UK I had expected to be able to pick up a copy on my arrival in France, since in the UK magazines usually appear a full month ahead of their cover date. However the French are obviously more literally minded than us Brits and so the Velo was due to appear on 1st June and not one day before.
So I had to guess the route, which meant when I missed my first turning just a couple of km out of Beauvais I did not get too stressed and just took the next turning to get me back on track. Happily on the weather side things were looking up. For the first time since day 1 I was able to start pedalling without first donning my Pack a Mac. The sun was visible and the wind, though still blowing, was doing so with less gusto on previous days.
The route was pretty flat and enjoyable. It being a Sunday other cyclists were also out and about. I played catch up and pass with an older cyclist, who, when I stopped 20 or so minutes later for a quick natural break stopped to ask me where I was heading and gave me some route advice.
I crossed the Seine just south of Rouen, the approach being along its banks via the D92 which took me through some very nice villages. One of the good things about France is that their approach to building houses means they are all different, and this road was a good example of this with lots of variations on the comfortable family house, one even resembling a mini-castle.
Once over the Seine the road passed quickly by and I decided to stay at Cormeille in the Auberge de President, named after President Reny Coty (1954-59) ate there (and if good enough for the president of France should be good enough for me.)
Auberge de President
I telephoned ahead to book a room and when I arrived I was very happy with my choice. Cormeilles is a beautiful Normandy village full of old timbered houses of many different colours, the hotel, in pale blue, being one of the best examples. A marriage was just coming to an end when I turned up but nonetheless the manageress found time to show me to my room and a place to stow my bike. The room was newly decorated but in a rustic style and very welcoming. I also had a large bath and plenty of bubble bath so I indulged in a wallow. It was not late so I set off for a wander round the town, taking a beer at a local bar whilst trying not to look English by reading L'Equipe and the local papers.
(Cormeilles websites)
http://www.office-tourisme-cormeilles.com/index.php
http://ecoles.ac-rouen.fr/freneuse27/morainville/cormeille.html
In fact I need not have worried too much about appearing a tourist. In the first place the town was obviously used to having the English come over and settle, the estate agents mostly boasted of "English spoken", looking at the prices of house I could see the attraction. For the price of a 3 bed semi in Newbury you could buy a big detached house with huge grounds near Cormeille. What's more, as I read the local paper, the folk in Normandy were getting worried about how the number of English visitors was dropping off, due to the weather and cheap flights luring us to the warmer climes further south.
I strolled back to the hotel, taking note of a shop to get some croissants in the morning. At the hotel I had a truly superb meal, cooked in the local style so calvodos, apples or cider figured in most of the dishes. Being greedy I asked for both the cheese and dessert courses and polished off a couple of bottles of cider (when in Normandy...).
All in all a very good day, the best of my trip so far. The only very minor problem was my arms were a bit sunburnt, a quite tolerable alternative to the frostbite they had suffered only a couple of days earlier.
Time 6:37
Climb 853
Weather Sun(:)) & wind
Woke up and headed down for petit dejeuner. The illusion that I was in a home rather than hotel continued as I found I was the only guest and I effectively had breakfast with the family, including their toddler son who played cars under my table.
Following the lull yesterday, Sunday would be no day of rest with a 150K or so planned, including crossing the Seine. I was not sure which route the Tour was going to be taking out of Beauvais. This was because the detailed route the tour takes each year is a closely guarded secret. The main route and "Villes d'etape" are published with a fanfare around October time, but exactly how the riders will get from start to finish (Beauvais to Caen in this case) is not revealed until the June edition of the Velo magazine hits the newstands. When I left the UK I had expected to be able to pick up a copy on my arrival in France, since in the UK magazines usually appear a full month ahead of their cover date. However the French are obviously more literally minded than us Brits and so the Velo was due to appear on 1st June and not one day before.
So I had to guess the route, which meant when I missed my first turning just a couple of km out of Beauvais I did not get too stressed and just took the next turning to get me back on track. Happily on the weather side things were looking up. For the first time since day 1 I was able to start pedalling without first donning my Pack a Mac. The sun was visible and the wind, though still blowing, was doing so with less gusto on previous days.
The route was pretty flat and enjoyable. It being a Sunday other cyclists were also out and about. I played catch up and pass with an older cyclist, who, when I stopped 20 or so minutes later for a quick natural break stopped to ask me where I was heading and gave me some route advice.
I crossed the Seine just south of Rouen, the approach being along its banks via the D92 which took me through some very nice villages. One of the good things about France is that their approach to building houses means they are all different, and this road was a good example of this with lots of variations on the comfortable family house, one even resembling a mini-castle.
Once over the Seine the road passed quickly by and I decided to stay at Cormeille in the Auberge de President, named after President Reny Coty (1954-59) ate there (and if good enough for the president of France should be good enough for me.)
Auberge de President
I telephoned ahead to book a room and when I arrived I was very happy with my choice. Cormeilles is a beautiful Normandy village full of old timbered houses of many different colours, the hotel, in pale blue, being one of the best examples. A marriage was just coming to an end when I turned up but nonetheless the manageress found time to show me to my room and a place to stow my bike. The room was newly decorated but in a rustic style and very welcoming. I also had a large bath and plenty of bubble bath so I indulged in a wallow. It was not late so I set off for a wander round the town, taking a beer at a local bar whilst trying not to look English by reading L'Equipe and the local papers.
(Cormeilles websites)
http://www.office-tourisme-cormeilles.com/index.php
http://ecoles.ac-rouen.fr/freneuse27/morainville/cormeille.html
In fact I need not have worried too much about appearing a tourist. In the first place the town was obviously used to having the English come over and settle, the estate agents mostly boasted of "English spoken", looking at the prices of house I could see the attraction. For the price of a 3 bed semi in Newbury you could buy a big detached house with huge grounds near Cormeille. What's more, as I read the local paper, the folk in Normandy were getting worried about how the number of English visitors was dropping off, due to the weather and cheap flights luring us to the warmer climes further south.
I strolled back to the hotel, taking note of a shop to get some croissants in the morning. At the hotel I had a truly superb meal, cooked in the local style so calvodos, apples or cider figured in most of the dishes. Being greedy I asked for both the cheese and dessert courses and polished off a couple of bottles of cider (when in Normandy...).
All in all a very good day, the best of my trip so far. The only very minor problem was my arms were a bit sunburnt, a quite tolerable alternative to the frostbite they had suffered only a couple of days earlier.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
TDF Journal Day 7 Saturday 27th May Montdidier >Beauvais - Taking it easy
Distance 49k
Time 2:55
Climb 261
Weather Grey and windy
This was a different day. After a week of struggling against the elements I had finally come to my first "rest" day. I had planned only short rides for these days, just enough to stop me stiffening up and hopefully let my body recover a bit.
So I had a lie in and a leisurely breakfast. When I headed out of the hotel the skies were grey and the wind was blowing. However it did not look as if rain was threatening. My destination for the night was Beauvais, start town for the TDF stage 5. This was only 50km or so to cover in the day, which was by a comfortable margin the shortest distance I had cycled. As the wind was still quite fresh I decided to head cross country to take advantage of the cover that the little lanes provided. This was a good plan and the ride was very enjoyable, if not very challenging compared to previous days.
Beauvais (French)
Beauvais (English)
I had booked a hotel in advance, the "Residence" in Beauvais. This was a bit of a strange place as it was located (appropriately given its name) in a very quiet residential neighbourhood about 10 minutes walk from the town centre. You needed to look twice at it to realise it was a hotel rather than another house and this illusion was continued when I was greeted at the door by a toddler, son of the owners.
While stowing my bike away in the garage I found my first equipment failure of the trip. One of my padlocks had seized up, it was hanging under my saddle and had caught the brunt of all the crud thrown up by the rear wheel as I pedalled through the rain. A fair amount of brute force let me get it off but it was broken beyond repair so I consigned it to the bin. I did not mind too much, in practice I had not yet come across any occasion when I thought my bike was in any danger of being stolen, so I was frankly glad to drop some unwanted weight.
I showered, changed and set of on my first bit of real tourism of my tour. Beauvais wasn't a bad town for this, being not too big, with a picturesque cathedral (pics below) and pleasant central square. I stopped by one of the cafes and was very happy to be able to sit outside as the grey clouds parted and I felt the first real strong sunshine since my first day.
I passed my time happily relaxing and reading my "History of the World". As the afternoon turned to evening however I was beginning to feel quite peckish and went in search of a restaurant. I was a little early but had the good luck to stumble upon a fantastic bar "Le Mine". This boasted of having a large range of bottled and draft beers. I ordered a half of Goudale (which sort of felt English "Good Ale") and was told that it was happy hour so I could have a full pint if I wished (yes pint. Despite being in France, originator and home of the metric system some traditions live on. So you can order a pint of beer (or a metre just to make things really confusing!)). I considered this offer long and hard, on the one hand free beer was available. On the other Good Ale is 7.2degrees so a pint could have a pretty heavy effect on an empty stomach. So reluctantly, and very possibly for the first time in my life, I turned down the offer of a free beer.
La Mine Website
This said I made up for it by having a pint of the brun by which time the restaurants were starting to open. I made for an Italian as I wanted to get some stodge inside me. It did not seem particularly special but I was lucky to get there early as within 20 minutes it was full. I had a pasta followed by pizza (the joys of cycling!) along with a carafe of red.
Rather fuller and a bit tipsy I headed back to the hotel.
PS Photo of the day the tour left town (more on the website)
Time 2:55
Climb 261
Weather Grey and windy
This was a different day. After a week of struggling against the elements I had finally come to my first "rest" day. I had planned only short rides for these days, just enough to stop me stiffening up and hopefully let my body recover a bit.
So I had a lie in and a leisurely breakfast. When I headed out of the hotel the skies were grey and the wind was blowing. However it did not look as if rain was threatening. My destination for the night was Beauvais, start town for the TDF stage 5. This was only 50km or so to cover in the day, which was by a comfortable margin the shortest distance I had cycled. As the wind was still quite fresh I decided to head cross country to take advantage of the cover that the little lanes provided. This was a good plan and the ride was very enjoyable, if not very challenging compared to previous days.
Beauvais (French)
Beauvais (English)
I had booked a hotel in advance, the "Residence" in Beauvais. This was a bit of a strange place as it was located (appropriately given its name) in a very quiet residential neighbourhood about 10 minutes walk from the town centre. You needed to look twice at it to realise it was a hotel rather than another house and this illusion was continued when I was greeted at the door by a toddler, son of the owners.
While stowing my bike away in the garage I found my first equipment failure of the trip. One of my padlocks had seized up, it was hanging under my saddle and had caught the brunt of all the crud thrown up by the rear wheel as I pedalled through the rain. A fair amount of brute force let me get it off but it was broken beyond repair so I consigned it to the bin. I did not mind too much, in practice I had not yet come across any occasion when I thought my bike was in any danger of being stolen, so I was frankly glad to drop some unwanted weight.
I showered, changed and set of on my first bit of real tourism of my tour. Beauvais wasn't a bad town for this, being not too big, with a picturesque cathedral (pics below) and pleasant central square. I stopped by one of the cafes and was very happy to be able to sit outside as the grey clouds parted and I felt the first real strong sunshine since my first day.
I passed my time happily relaxing and reading my "History of the World". As the afternoon turned to evening however I was beginning to feel quite peckish and went in search of a restaurant. I was a little early but had the good luck to stumble upon a fantastic bar "Le Mine". This boasted of having a large range of bottled and draft beers. I ordered a half of Goudale (which sort of felt English "Good Ale") and was told that it was happy hour so I could have a full pint if I wished (yes pint. Despite being in France, originator and home of the metric system some traditions live on. So you can order a pint of beer (or a metre just to make things really confusing!)). I considered this offer long and hard, on the one hand free beer was available. On the other Good Ale is 7.2degrees so a pint could have a pretty heavy effect on an empty stomach. So reluctantly, and very possibly for the first time in my life, I turned down the offer of a free beer.
La Mine Website
This said I made up for it by having a pint of the brun by which time the restaurants were starting to open. I made for an Italian as I wanted to get some stodge inside me. It did not seem particularly special but I was lucky to get there early as within 20 minutes it was full. I had a pasta followed by pizza (the joys of cycling!) along with a carafe of red.
Rather fuller and a bit tipsy I headed back to the hotel.
PS Photo of the day the tour left town (more on the website)
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
TDF Journal Day 6 Friday 26th May Nouvion to Montdidier Blown Away
Distance 112k
Time 6:00
Climb 418
Weather Gale force winds
Yet again I got up, looked out of the window and was greeting by grey drizzle. I ate breakfast and headed out of Nouvion, with the wind blowing hard into my face.
After a couple of hours, when the only event of any interest was passing a large Nestle factory in the middle of nowhere, the rain finally relented. I didn't know it at the time but this was the end of the regular drenchings I was going to get.
Given the headwinds I made reasonable time to St Quentin, the finish of the tour's stage 4. The start at Huy yesterday seemed like an age ago.
St Quentin - the smiling town
St Quentin is a town that has personal memories for me, since it is the first French town I can remember staying in. As a child every other year we would visit Switzerland, home to my dads family. Back then these trips were major events, since it was rare for anyone to leave the sanctuary of the British Isle. The road network was nowhere near as developed as today so the journey to/from Switzerland would take a good two days. My first recollection of actually being in France was when we had a stopover at St Quentin, where I remember my dad ordering "escargots" and being amazed when snails turned up at our table and even more amazed when my dad ate them.
Now, returning some 40+ years later, there was not much sign that St Quentin was celebrating the arrival of the tour but looking at the web site later it seems they certainly made up for this when the big day arrived, living up to their claim of being the "town that smiles"
I stopped at a bar/resaurant for a typical French workers lunch. For 12 euros I got a three course meal, with steak as main course, along with some wine and coffee. Very nice, very cheap.
I had another gap d'etape to cover, this one being 100km.My destination was Montdidier and I had planned what seemed to be a pretty straightforward route to get to it, via some friendly looking yellow D roads.
I set off, happy to find that getting through St Quentin was pretty easy given its size. Once I left the shelter of the town, however, I found that the D roads were a bit less friendly than I thought, being wide, straight, rolling and full of traffic. To add to my woes the headwind had got worse and was blowing straight down the road into my face. Making progress was very difficult. For the first time in my cycling life I was actually glad when I was overtaken by an HGV, since in the turbulence of its wake the wind lessened a bit and I could make headway. These respites though were brief and it was proving heavy going. I got a third of my way towards Montdidier and decided a plan B was called for. I headed off the D road across country zig-zagging along quiet country lanes, always heading in the general direction of Montdidier. This route was longer than the original but a lot easier. I passed through any number of tiny villages, wondering how on earth they all kept going but glad they did.
Finally, after covering nearly twice as much distance as originally planned I reached Montdidier. I had booked a hotel in advance but did not know where exactly it was. This proved to be a potential problem as the main street of the town was near vertical. I sped down it desparately looking from side to side, ready to effect an emergency stop. Luckily when I got to the bottom my hotel loomed ahead. Just a luckily the signpost for my direction out of town the next morning was clearly visible and pointing in the opposite direction from the hill I had just come down and therefore would not have to go up again tomorrow.
Montdidier+baby?
I was knackered. I was nearly at the end of my first week of my tour and it had proved hard work with most every day being a battle against wind, rain or, mostly, both. Fortunately my intention had always been to have one day of rest each week and tomorrow, Saturday, was to be the first of these. So I cleaned up and had my second steak of the day in the restaurant. The manager of the hotel stopped by the table for a quick chat, strangely the thing he seemed most keen to impress on me was the fact that my room had electric window shutters, which true enough it had, so I used them and had a good and well earned nights sleep.
Time 6:00
Climb 418
Weather Gale force winds
Yet again I got up, looked out of the window and was greeting by grey drizzle. I ate breakfast and headed out of Nouvion, with the wind blowing hard into my face.
After a couple of hours, when the only event of any interest was passing a large Nestle factory in the middle of nowhere, the rain finally relented. I didn't know it at the time but this was the end of the regular drenchings I was going to get.
Given the headwinds I made reasonable time to St Quentin, the finish of the tour's stage 4. The start at Huy yesterday seemed like an age ago.
St Quentin - the smiling town
St Quentin is a town that has personal memories for me, since it is the first French town I can remember staying in. As a child every other year we would visit Switzerland, home to my dads family. Back then these trips were major events, since it was rare for anyone to leave the sanctuary of the British Isle. The road network was nowhere near as developed as today so the journey to/from Switzerland would take a good two days. My first recollection of actually being in France was when we had a stopover at St Quentin, where I remember my dad ordering "escargots" and being amazed when snails turned up at our table and even more amazed when my dad ate them.
Now, returning some 40+ years later, there was not much sign that St Quentin was celebrating the arrival of the tour but looking at the web site later it seems they certainly made up for this when the big day arrived, living up to their claim of being the "town that smiles"
I stopped at a bar/resaurant for a typical French workers lunch. For 12 euros I got a three course meal, with steak as main course, along with some wine and coffee. Very nice, very cheap.
I had another gap d'etape to cover, this one being 100km.My destination was Montdidier and I had planned what seemed to be a pretty straightforward route to get to it, via some friendly looking yellow D roads.
I set off, happy to find that getting through St Quentin was pretty easy given its size. Once I left the shelter of the town, however, I found that the D roads were a bit less friendly than I thought, being wide, straight, rolling and full of traffic. To add to my woes the headwind had got worse and was blowing straight down the road into my face. Making progress was very difficult. For the first time in my cycling life I was actually glad when I was overtaken by an HGV, since in the turbulence of its wake the wind lessened a bit and I could make headway. These respites though were brief and it was proving heavy going. I got a third of my way towards Montdidier and decided a plan B was called for. I headed off the D road across country zig-zagging along quiet country lanes, always heading in the general direction of Montdidier. This route was longer than the original but a lot easier. I passed through any number of tiny villages, wondering how on earth they all kept going but glad they did.
Finally, after covering nearly twice as much distance as originally planned I reached Montdidier. I had booked a hotel in advance but did not know where exactly it was. This proved to be a potential problem as the main street of the town was near vertical. I sped down it desparately looking from side to side, ready to effect an emergency stop. Luckily when I got to the bottom my hotel loomed ahead. Just a luckily the signpost for my direction out of town the next morning was clearly visible and pointing in the opposite direction from the hill I had just come down and therefore would not have to go up again tomorrow.
Montdidier+baby?
I was knackered. I was nearly at the end of my first week of my tour and it had proved hard work with most every day being a battle against wind, rain or, mostly, both. Fortunately my intention had always been to have one day of rest each week and tomorrow, Saturday, was to be the first of these. So I cleaned up and had my second steak of the day in the restaurant. The manager of the hotel stopped by the table for a quick chat, strangely the thing he seemed most keen to impress on me was the fact that my room had electric window shutters, which true enough it had, so I used them and had a good and well earned nights sleep.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
TDF Journal Day 4 Wednesday 24th May Eupen to Huy Wind, Wind, Fing Wind
Distance 136k
Time 6:23
Climb 618m
Weather Windy all the way
Had a pleasant surprise on leaving the hotel. Firstly I found my missing Alien next to my bike. Then just as I was leaving a girl came up to me with my compass saying "I guess this must be yours?". So all present and correct again.
I set off from Eupen heading due north, happy that this was going to be the day when I was due to make a turn south and west, so hopefully towards warmer and drier climes.
All the water I had been drenched with must have got to my brain as I took a number of unplanned detours but I found my way back onto my route without too much difficulty. My navigation was helped by the strong wind that was getting stronger all the time and rather worringly coming from the direction I would be heading in the afternoon. For the time being though I knew if I was being blown over sideways into the hedgerows I was heading in the right direction.
Eventually I came to a long straight road that ran along a hill running north-south. It reminded me of the Hogs Back coming out of Guildford and similar to that road had some great views, which I tired to appreciate when I wasn't in danger of being blown off the hill and into the valley. It was along this road that I had my first encounter with another guy on a racing bike. I didn't know he was there until he whizzed by me, but once he was ahead I gave chase. He was doing a fair lick but eventually I caught up, which then gave the dilemma of whether to overtake him or stay behind, using him as a windbreak. I was still dithering when he solved my dilemma by turning off my road.
Very shortly after this I crossed the border into Holland. I followed a lovely "green" route along a river to the outskirts of Valkenburg, then cycled along the flat straight road into the town itself. It was around lunchtime so I stopped at a pub. Rather bizarrely the only food on offer was cake, so I had a couple of helping of this with beer accompanyment.
http://www.valkenburg.nl/
The official route into Valkenburg:
Some Valkenburg TDF history:
Having reached Valkenburg I was now faced with the first of my "gap Etape"s. These are the gaps that need to be covered when the tour finishes at one town and starts at another. I faced a number of these, the longest being the one from L'Orient in Brittany down to Bordeaux at 565km. The one from the end of stage 2 at Valkenburg to Huy, back in Belgium, for the start of stage 3 was only a paltry 70km.
I did my best to make this a bit longer by heading the wrong way out of Valkenburg. Once I realised my mistake I decided to make the most of it by taking a look at Maastricht, a town (in)famous in the UK for having an EU treaty named after it but about which I knew nothing. It proved a pleasant surprise. First thing of note were the plentiful cycle lanes. The outside of the town was full of nondescript new buildings but at its heart was a lovely old town centre, reserved for pedestrians and bikes only. The only drawback was that it was cobbled which, despite my bike being a Roubaix, meant a rather shaky ride. However I was glad I passed by.
Maastricht:
Maastricht info:
http://www.vvvmaastricht.nl/index2.php3
Heading out of Maastricht I crossed back into Belgium and once again had to contend with its road system. I had planned on using a "yellow" road but on seeing it was the same as the dreaded N676 decided against and risked a red alternative. This was better in that it had a cycle lane but was made difficult by running through wide open, flat farmland where the wind that was now quite vicious whipped dust and dirt straight into my face. Just to wind me up the cycle lane also had some huge holes dug into it. These seemed to be some sort of roadwork but there was no sign of any roadworkmen and whenever I came across one I had to dismount and push my bike round it.
All in all this made for hard going, the harder because I knew this wasn't really a part of the tour proper.
My first view of Huy (except that when I was there the skies were grey...)
Eventually I reached the outskirts of Huy. I had not booked a hotel in advance because I thought that if Huy was a ville d'etape it was bound to have plenty of hotels. However as I rolled down the banks of the River Meuse on which the town sits my heart started to sink a little, especially as the skies opened to give me my first soaking of the day just 5km from the end of my days riding. I took shelter under a bridge, restarting once the rain had changed to drizzle. I passed one hotel but that seemed to be in the middle of an industrial area so gave it a miss and headed for town centre.
There I could see no sign of hotels. Bemused I asked a local if there were any hotels nearby and found there was just one (Hotel du Fort), which eventually I tracked down. I got a friendly welcome and after depositing my bike in the garage and drying myself off headed into Huy for a meal.
While waliking into town I saw a sign saying that Huy would be welcoming the Tour de France but was also on the route of the Giro (Tour of Italy). Strangely this turned out to be true. And I thought I had got lost from time to time!
Huy seemed to be as lacking in restaurants as hotels. I ended up in an Irish pub, of which there seems to be at least one in every town in the world. (Strange because when I lived in France back in the early 1990s this was very much not the case, in fact one of the highlights of a trip back to the UK was a pint of Guiness.)
Maybe the hotels/restaurants had all been scared off by the nuclear power plant, that was, literally, a couple of miles down the river from Huy town centre.
Belgiums nuclear power stations. The Tirhange station is on the river Meuse right next to Huy:
Huy Links:
http://www.huy.be/
http://www.eupedia.com/belgium/huy.shtml
Time 6:23
Climb 618m
Weather Windy all the way
Had a pleasant surprise on leaving the hotel. Firstly I found my missing Alien next to my bike. Then just as I was leaving a girl came up to me with my compass saying "I guess this must be yours?". So all present and correct again.
I set off from Eupen heading due north, happy that this was going to be the day when I was due to make a turn south and west, so hopefully towards warmer and drier climes.
All the water I had been drenched with must have got to my brain as I took a number of unplanned detours but I found my way back onto my route without too much difficulty. My navigation was helped by the strong wind that was getting stronger all the time and rather worringly coming from the direction I would be heading in the afternoon. For the time being though I knew if I was being blown over sideways into the hedgerows I was heading in the right direction.
Eventually I came to a long straight road that ran along a hill running north-south. It reminded me of the Hogs Back coming out of Guildford and similar to that road had some great views, which I tired to appreciate when I wasn't in danger of being blown off the hill and into the valley. It was along this road that I had my first encounter with another guy on a racing bike. I didn't know he was there until he whizzed by me, but once he was ahead I gave chase. He was doing a fair lick but eventually I caught up, which then gave the dilemma of whether to overtake him or stay behind, using him as a windbreak. I was still dithering when he solved my dilemma by turning off my road.
Very shortly after this I crossed the border into Holland. I followed a lovely "green" route along a river to the outskirts of Valkenburg, then cycled along the flat straight road into the town itself. It was around lunchtime so I stopped at a pub. Rather bizarrely the only food on offer was cake, so I had a couple of helping of this with beer accompanyment.
http://www.valkenburg.nl/
The official route into Valkenburg:
Some Valkenburg TDF history:
Having reached Valkenburg I was now faced with the first of my "gap Etape"s. These are the gaps that need to be covered when the tour finishes at one town and starts at another. I faced a number of these, the longest being the one from L'Orient in Brittany down to Bordeaux at 565km. The one from the end of stage 2 at Valkenburg to Huy, back in Belgium, for the start of stage 3 was only a paltry 70km.
I did my best to make this a bit longer by heading the wrong way out of Valkenburg. Once I realised my mistake I decided to make the most of it by taking a look at Maastricht, a town (in)famous in the UK for having an EU treaty named after it but about which I knew nothing. It proved a pleasant surprise. First thing of note were the plentiful cycle lanes. The outside of the town was full of nondescript new buildings but at its heart was a lovely old town centre, reserved for pedestrians and bikes only. The only drawback was that it was cobbled which, despite my bike being a Roubaix, meant a rather shaky ride. However I was glad I passed by.
Maastricht:
Maastricht info:
http://www.vvvmaastricht.nl/index2.php3
Heading out of Maastricht I crossed back into Belgium and once again had to contend with its road system. I had planned on using a "yellow" road but on seeing it was the same as the dreaded N676 decided against and risked a red alternative. This was better in that it had a cycle lane but was made difficult by running through wide open, flat farmland where the wind that was now quite vicious whipped dust and dirt straight into my face. Just to wind me up the cycle lane also had some huge holes dug into it. These seemed to be some sort of roadwork but there was no sign of any roadworkmen and whenever I came across one I had to dismount and push my bike round it.
All in all this made for hard going, the harder because I knew this wasn't really a part of the tour proper.
My first view of Huy (except that when I was there the skies were grey...)
Eventually I reached the outskirts of Huy. I had not booked a hotel in advance because I thought that if Huy was a ville d'etape it was bound to have plenty of hotels. However as I rolled down the banks of the River Meuse on which the town sits my heart started to sink a little, especially as the skies opened to give me my first soaking of the day just 5km from the end of my days riding. I took shelter under a bridge, restarting once the rain had changed to drizzle. I passed one hotel but that seemed to be in the middle of an industrial area so gave it a miss and headed for town centre.
There I could see no sign of hotels. Bemused I asked a local if there were any hotels nearby and found there was just one (Hotel du Fort), which eventually I tracked down. I got a friendly welcome and after depositing my bike in the garage and drying myself off headed into Huy for a meal.
While waliking into town I saw a sign saying that Huy would be welcoming the Tour de France but was also on the route of the Giro (Tour of Italy). Strangely this turned out to be true. And I thought I had got lost from time to time!
Huy seemed to be as lacking in restaurants as hotels. I ended up in an Irish pub, of which there seems to be at least one in every town in the world. (Strange because when I lived in France back in the early 1990s this was very much not the case, in fact one of the highlights of a trip back to the UK was a pint of Guiness.)
Maybe the hotels/restaurants had all been scared off by the nuclear power plant, that was, literally, a couple of miles down the river from Huy town centre.
Belgiums nuclear power stations. The Tirhange station is on the river Meuse right next to Huy:
Huy Links:
http://www.huy.be/
http://www.eupedia.com/belgium/huy.shtml
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