Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson Bicycle touring journals
November 10 Wednesday Bicycle touring France from Maurs France to Puy Leveque France
The scenery has changed again. A couple of days ago we were cycle touring in high farmland with many green grass pastures and cows munching happily away. Lots of high mountain passes and excellent long views down into the valleys.
Then, yesterday, we were cycling along a high rock cliff following above the Lot River as it flowed through the valley below. Saw some houses built right into the cliff. In another place there was a huge rock and someone had built a house that used part of the rock for a wall and some of the roof. Alongside the road were caverns. In some places the rock ledge jutted over the road and we were riding underneath the rock ledge. Water was dripping out of the rock. At the entrance to one tunnel, a castle-like gate had been carved into the rock.
Last night, in the hotel, a guy with a deep bass voice was in the room next to us and his voice carried through the wall like a foghorn. His snoring was worse. I slept with my earplugs in and I could still hear the guy snoring. He had a good sleep. I think I sleep better in our little bicycle touring tent in the middle of nowhere.
I tried the shower again this morning. It was warmer than last night, but I still had only the "hot" tap turned on and had to later up and rinse off, turning the water off in between, and I still barely had enough water before it was cold. They don't pump much heat into the rooms either with its "hot" water heating. When I touched the radiator it was barely warm.
It was a restaurant bar hotel. All our cycling clothes and sleeping bag have picked up a weird odor from whatever it was they were cooking. Not our usual outdoor pleasant smell either.
We left at 11 AM, after we found the owner and had him unlock our touring bikes with all our panniers from the hotel's storage shed. As soon as we took our fully loaded touring bicycles out of the shed, it began to rain again. My feet were soaked after five kilometres. So much for cycling with dry socks.
In Cohors we somehow missed our road and ended up cycling on some steep rural mountain road. And then we zoomed back down the other side of the mountain to end up exactly where we started from. Very entertaining. But not a very good way to put on the miles while cycle touring.
We saw route D8, which we were thinking of cycling before, so we set out on it. Sharon was hungry and in a bear of a mood. She says I get cranky when I'm hungry, but I'm no competition. I'm starting to call her the Bruin.
We cycled into a Champion Supermarket. It was 12:38. Closed. Oh yeah, they close at noon. We still find that concept difficult to fathom. The Champion is a huge store -- similar in size to a Walmart -- and the whole place, including the gas bar, locks up tight and shuts off the lights from 12:30 - 2:30 for midi. Well excuse me, but I would like to eat. Only I can't buy any food.
We cycled down the road there and came to an E. Leclerc store -- which I had always thought was a giant electrical supply store. But today I noticed shopping carts in the parking lot, so we pulled our fully loaded touring bicycles in to check it out. Golly, they have food!
It turns out we made a wrong turn leaving the Champion Store. Good thing, or we never would have come across the E. Leclerc store. We got back on D8 and rode our bikes to a small town to eat.
It would intermittently rain and shine. It's 16ยบ C. Cycling to our lunch stop, we crossed a metal-planked suspension bridge that was one-lane. It was wet and slippery with ridges for skinny bike tires to fall between. On the other side, we pulled our touring bikes to a stop and laid out our orange ground sheet on top of the wet, soggy, muddy grass and ate Cheerios, a baguette with jam, cheese (President camembert), several chocolate and coffee flavored puddings, and Clementine oranges.
On the return trip back over the bridge, I pushed my fully loaded bicycle along the sidewalk. Much safer than the slippery metal bridge deck, but not very wide. The rivers are still high. Water covers a sidewalk that stairs from the bank leads down to. Lots of trees are a few feet in the rushing water.
As we cycled along, we spotted a beach and campground that were under water. "Don't camp too close to the river," Sharon wisely advised.
We cycled into vineyard country. A wine cycle tour in France. How good can it get? The leaves are changing colour -- whole fields of orange, red, and yellow leaves on the grape vines. Some vines still have black grapes clinging to them. Lots of winemaking places we are cycling past. We're close to Bordeaux, so this must be their wine region. Cycling on D8 was hilly in places. It was windy and twisty along the river. Some good views. Old towns. Big chateaux. They look cold and damp. Lots of properties are for sale.
Cycled past a tree with no leaves, but loaded down with orange-coloured fruit. No idea what kind. Persimmons? I had to jump a rock walled fence to get the picture I wanted. I laid down and pointed the camera lens up through the gnarled branches and into the blue sky. I couldn't decide if the fruit was apples, oranges, tomatoes, or none of the above. I should have picked one.
Where we are cycling now, we are starting to see palm fronds. I saw a large private outdoor swimming pool. That's a first.
Cycled into Puy Leveque around 5 PM. Hit the patisserie and bought four baguettes. Tomorrow is November 11, Remembrance Day, and everything will surely be closed. The holiday seems to have more significance here ... all the war memorials are ringed with bombs. And Flanders Field is north of here. As we cycle along, we see and hear bombers and jet fighter planes overhead.
We hit a supermarket to buy two days' worth of food. We are almost out of money, so we charged the food on Visa. 75 francs ($21).
We cycled into a soccer stadium and made supper under the grandstand roof. Two guys came along, walking their dogs. We were sitting in the darkness in the bleachers, but they saw us when their dogs reacted. We waited until it was a bit darker, then we set our inconspicuous bicycle touring tent up under an overhang by the water closets.
I think Sharon has turned European. We went into a public toilet that had both a footstep type of toilet and a sit down toilet. Sharon used the squat one. "Better than sitting on someone else's seat," she says. Well, I'll be.
As we cycled into Cohors, the clouds let loose a torrent of water. Rain pelted down so hard, it bounced off the pavement. We pulled into a garage gas station with an overhang roof to wait for the deluge to pass.An old woman with an umbrella stood on a parapet where the overhang ended. There was a fifteen-foot open space to where her beloved car sat parked (those funny-looking cars the French drive must be beloved). As she forlornly pondered what to do, gazing out at her auto in the pouring rain, realizing that she will have to get wet in order to open the car door and close her umbrella in order to get in.
A man working at the gas station notices her. He hustles over, takes her keys, runs to her car in the downpour, starts it. Putting the car into reverse, he delivers it to her.
"When is the last time you saw that?" I asked Sharon.
"Never," she replied.
Now that's what I call a service station! I wonder if he would mind delivering our touring bicycles to somewhere dry in France?
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