Hairdressers!!!

Tuesday  08.04.2014 Hagetmau – St. Palais

65 kms    725m (min!)

Phew, and phew again. What a day! If we thought we were upping and downing on Friday and Saturday, that was just the warm up! However, we certainly feel a sense of satisfaction and also a little more confidence in that the Pyrenees will not defeat us, even if we do have to do a bit of walking – or even quite a lot of walking. Actually walking does not in any way describe the activity of pushing a bike and Herman or Sherman up a climb! Nonetheless, in mitigation, the weather has been dry and cool with only a slight wind which was behind us – a very novel experience. Old nostril wind will undoubtedly make a come-back at some stage.

One of the great advantages of either walking or pedalling very slowly uphill, is the opportunity to observe nature in the verges. Why we try to tame our gardens to the extent that we do (or some of us anyway) seems almost an insult the natural flora. There are just hundreds of beautiful plants of all shapes and colours which thrive in spite of the traffic. Marvellous!

In case, dear reader, you are interested in my general observations, which I have to admit is a displacement activity, I am bemused by the proliferation of hairdressers in even the tiddliest villages which have no other form of life! Must be a lot of hair around.

We have also seen and, even explored in some cases, an awful lot of churches; to be expected really in view of the fact that this is a pilgrim route. I suspect the church photos will end the way of our mountain shots- “Where was that?” 

Well another day has almost ended and we are ensconced on a delightful hostel for pilgrims or folk who are following this route. It’s an old Franciscan monastery looked after by a delightful little lady. For a room and breakfast it is a bargain at 24 Euros!

 We are looking forward to our night’s rest and giving my elephant time to rejuvenate. He has taken a bit of a bashing today. I suspect the same will be true of tomorrow. Bonne nuit!

Sauveterre-de-bearn

Passport stamping – a new hobby

No Bikes Allowed?

Retions – Hagetmau    65kms   (quite a bit of height gained. Enough to have me pushing)

Well what a day and it all started so well.  Alan had managed to post the blog which I hope was okay because my intellect and definitely my ability to punctuate decreases with wine and time and there was no time this morning to go through it and check.

Anyway, back to today. Whaa…. It would appear that the maps with which we have been provided are so out of date that a major motorway has come into existence and has not been acknowledged as a ‘maybe’! However, the day commenced with a good breakfast and cheery au revoir from our hosts and an uneventful ride through Roquefort and out the other side. At this point things got a bit iffy. Our map indicated a route following the D932. No worries, we found it but we are still not sure that we should have been riding along it. It was unquestionably a clearway and a dual carriageway and we were riding on the hard shoulder (memories of Sicily!). No jobs worth appeared so on we went as we could find no suitable alternative. The experience is not to be recommended. The speed limit was 110 kms / hr which is interpreted by the motorist as at least 20 kms/hr faster. So pootling along at about 15 – 20 kms/hr being overtaken by racing cars was not a lot of fun.

If we thought that was bad (you may have noted dear reader that there are a lot of moans in this blog) when we entered Mont de Marsan our map failed completely and we were obliged to walk along one way streets, get thoroughly lost, walk a few more one way streets and finally re- emerge on the far side of town onto yet more dual carriageway!  It was quick (the dual carriageway) but nerve racking and temperatures were increasing with the hour so we reached Sever in something of a lather. Sever town was attainable only after climbing a hill which could not be ridden with Herman and Sherman and pushing was only just accomplishable. Did get more stamps in the passports though. You see, every cloud and all that…………..

Hagetmau was our target for the day and only required one more push (very worried about the Pyrenees!) and we finally arrived hot and sweaty and in need of good shower. After several fruitless attempts to rouse any hoteliers we finally made a bad phone connections with one of them who, although half-shut – the story of our lives – was able to provide a room but no food. We found the food once we had eradicated the bodily odours. All is now tranquil and I am off to my bed. So until tomorrow, when we have been encouragingly told we will reach the foothills of the mountains, I bid you adieu.

(Sudacrem is being used copiously and Mary is hitting the Nightnurse to allay the effects of a heavy cold. The Pyrenees could be a difficult couple of days! – Ed.)

A Flat Bit!

Sunday 06.04.2014    

 Monsegur – near Retions     86kms 420m

 It had rained overnight but had the good sense to clear up as we roused ourselves for a fourth day in the saddle. To facilitate our departure, we were required to push both the bikes and the trailers through the full length of the bar under the scrutiny of the regulars who had arrived for their coffee laced or otherwise I don’t know. We had nearly reached the door when one of the regulars recognised the flag and exclaimed that his wife was Welsh! They just get everywhere.

At least leaving Monsegur was downhill but the euphoria lasted only a short while before the inevitable ups and downs. Today though, they were much reduced and by lunch time we had reached Les Landes and almost flat terrain. As you would expect this route takes in a lot of churches but Bazas sported a particularly magnificent example and , in fact the entire town was worthy of exploration. It was also decision time!

If our guide book was to be believed, there was little in the way of accommodation over the next thirty or so kilometres. Mmmm… the weather is warm but the tent is not a great choice! So, as it is Sunday and the roads are bereft of lorries, we took a chance on the main road which would save time. It did, but at some cost. Memories of Sweden emerged as we bowled along through endless trees in an almost straight line. Efficient but without romance. Despite our best efforts, the chambre d’hote we had targeted had ‘nothing – rien’. Onward! Why do roads always become so bumpy when legs and lungs want nothing more than to abandon all hope?  The only other mention in the great guide book was a hostellerie on the main road which had lots of space and a restaurant so our cheese and bread will live to see another day. 

Saturday  05.04.2014  

Mussidan – Montsegur        65kms    581m

It is still not quite light at seven o’clock  but the birds are wittering and twittering so it feels like morning. By eight we had joined our hostess in the ‘kitchen’ where breakfast lay in wait along with our hostess. Plenty to eat and all accompanied by a constant chatter in French requiring unusual levels of concentration so early in the day. Having received our complicated instructions for locking up and ensuring the dog did not escape during our departure, we finally deposited the keys in the round green box and set off on day three.

It has to be said that if it had not been April, I would have been unsurprised to see snow – it was very, very cold and foggy, but Mr. Optimism assured me that it would warm up. Correct as ever and after about 10 kms I needed to use a hedge and also reduce my layers!

Today was another day of continuous ups and downs or, to be posh, peaks and troughs, and not insignificant inclines, hence the rather disappointing mileage. The weather continued to improve and we ate our lunch outside yet another shut church, on a bench in the sunshine which was a real pleasure. Mind you, we are not doing well on getting our cards stamped as everywhere has closed doors!

The final climb into Monsegur clinched the decision to overnight in the town. Located a bar with chambre d’hote and very nice it is too even if the wifi is somewhat inadequate. This is a real Deborah and Brendan place with lots of shabby chic and good taste and probably, most importantly, inexpensive! (and a bar downstairs bren - ed) Tomorrow looks much the same from a pedalling point of view so heads down and off we go again.

A More ModestAffair

Friday   04. 04. 2014

Sorges – Mussidan  65kms  310 m.

The hotel concierge promised us sunshine! France Meteo had it right! – wet and windy, improving in the afternoon. Having frozen to death yesterday I took the precaution of donning multiple layers with the obvious outcome -too hot! The weather was not entirely to blame as the morning was another continuous series of ups and downs which under normal circumstances (ie. bike sans trailers) would have been a dawdle. Still, it wasn’t raining all the time and the wind was almost positive.

Navigating through Perigueux was something of a challenge but as we had some prior knowledge of the town and had a vague idea of where we were trying to go, it could have been much worse. Following a few red dots on a copied 1:100000 map is not to be recommended! A continuous flow of overtaking cars only increases the panic. However, we emerged on the other side of the town on the correct road and without having a great falling out! Hoorah! (If we thought Euro Velo was badly signposted, the Compostela bicycle route is entirely bereft of any signs). Good job Master Navigator is always on the case! AND the weather did improve – a bit.

Following last evening’s indulgence, tonight is a much more modest affair. Bread and cheese washed down with the inevitable bottle of wine purchased at great expense from Intermarche and a very comfortable, friendly and moderately priced chambre d’hote.  A demain.    

We're Off Again (in the rain)

Thursday 03.04.2014

Home – Sorges   Nearly 80kms    631m

For those of you who know this area will, no doubt, be wondering how it took us nearly 80kms to reach Sorges from home. Easy – the route that the Pilgrims obviously took meanders up hill and down dale and from east to west and not once follows the river valley (which I would consider the sensible choice, but then who am I to argue.) I suspect this will be a continuing feature of this ride!

We had delayed our departure by a day as we were somewhat jaded after our journey to Santiago to deliver the car to the airport car park! On Wednesday morning we were congratulating ourselves on our decision, as it was blowing a hooley! But the saints were having a laugh because, this morning, it was not blowing but pouring with rain and temperatures had plummeted. Undaunted we were saddled up by 09.30 and began the short climb from the house to the railway line in Oradour. It is only two kilometres but it was still a bit of a huff and puff! As we eased into our rhythm, sure enough, we began to roll along. However, as is normal to our journeying, after some twenty kilometres my bladder was overfull (I know - too much information). We stopped at the café/bar in Bussiere Gallant Gare where I asked very politely in my very best French if I could use the toilet. Now, bear in mind that I was very wet, very cold and busting for a pee and for the first time in France my request was refused! Do not frequent said bar! Nought for it but to cross legs and find a convenience in the railway station which posed no problem.

Suitably relieved, the ride continued up and down and more up and down and yet more up and down but was very pretty even in the rain which did not cease. As temperatures continued to drop, by lunch time we were very cold and in need of extra clothing. (More like Norway than France but no nostril wind – must be grateful for small, actually quite large, mercies). 

Our reward for completing our first day was an overnight in an hotel with a fabulous, if far too large, meal and a pretty hefty bill! We’ll be pedalling very hard tomorrow and without the need for calories.

A Pilgrimage!

Surprise, surprise! You could be forgiven for feeling abandoned, dear reader, but read on and you will find this is not so. The title of this entry may provide a tiny clue as to our next Old Bones venture.

It is still something of a mystery as to where these ideas originate but, it seems that once the seed is planted, growth is almost inevitable. So despite appearances, we have continued to sort of train through a very wet winter while contemplating a foray in spring. I am reliably informed that Spring is now official although the view from my window does nothing to corroborate this theory. (Not warm and raining!)

A pilgrim route, which this is, may not seem an obvious choice in view of our lack of religious beliefs but the road it follows is likely to be interesting and expand our knowledge of the importance of this way. We are unlikely to experience an epiphany I think, but Northern Spain has always had its attractions for us – the wild Atlantic ocean, the Picos mountains and family holidays  – none of which we will encounter on the path of St. James! But the memories will be nearby.

Oradour sur Vayres to Santiago de Compostella is a relatively modest undertaking but Old Bones are still getting older! (a pathetic excuse). As the Master Mind has been carrying out most of the research- well, all of it really – I am blissfully unaware of the distance or the severity or otherwise of the proposed journey. (around 1,500kms!!! –ed.)  So safe in my ignorance, I shall mount my bike and pedal off!

In the meantime, it has come of something of a surprise that, having made no ride of any significance last year, we have spent a lot of time relearning the logistics required for several weeks in the saddle: fortunately Mr. Organised has retained the information from the previous trips and has spent much time revisiting his beloved lists. I do not mock! Without them, we would still be scuttling around, scratching our heads. So far, so good. Bikes are running well, trailers are serviced and packed and, thus far, all bones are in good shape! Please touch as much wood as you can find!

The actual mounting our bikes from the front gate and committing to the ride will happen next Wednesday as we are using this interim period to drive to Santiago and leave the car in a car park near the airport and return home by air. Thus, in theory, when we arrive in Santiago in a few weeks’ time, the car will be waiting to transport us back home. Great in theory, hope it all works in practice!

Hopefully, the next posting on the blog will be from somewhere in France in about a week’s time. This does rather depend on how well legs and lungs have adapted to pedalling all day with Herman and Sherman trailing behind! Still, poking a few keys on the computer shouldn’t make too many demands on physical resources.

We look forward to your joining us on our trek and, as ever, will welcome your comments, however they are conveyed. Until next week!

NB: Earlier this year Jim, the father of our son in law, died after a long fight with cancer. In response, we are hoping that this ride may raise some sponsorship for cancer charities. Marie will be facilitating this aspect so please look out for further information should you wish to make a donation. 

Camping Coursavy

The River Lot

There’s a lot of hills in the Lot

Bikes were loaded onto the roof of the car, caravan hitched on the back and we were off to visit friends who have a wonderful campsite (www.campingcoursavy.com) on the banks of the river Lot near Conques. As is usually the case with rivers, they are located at the bottom of a valley. This river is no exception! It is, of course, possible to follow the course of the river but to venture elsewhere requires a climb. The local climb or “the hill” as we call it is a 10 km, not very steep, uphill. I might mention at this point that it has been ridden in 24 minutes from bottom to top. (He was only 23 and a club cyclist!) Reverse those figures and it will give you an idea of my time! And now, without the comfort and assurance of granny gear, this was to be the introduction to a few weeks of cycling. All that hard won confidence trickled away. It felt like beginning all over again. But……….panting in 30 degrees of heat, the summit arrived in… ta rah…. 38 minutes.  A careful descent on roads which had just had a layer of gravel chucked over wet tar, saw us return to river level feeling a tad more positive. We then spent the next hour or so scraping tar and gravel from the tyres and diligently cleaning the gears. Whoever thought that this method of resurfacing roads was a good idea needs a good smack. In some instances the gravel lurking on the edges of the road was several centimetres thick which meant the only safe place to ride was well into the centre. Great ‘til one meets “white van man” who drives with equal lack of care and courtesy in every country we have visited.

An added bonus of living on the banks of the river is the availability of cold moving water in which to bathe and cool down. The volume of water is regulated upstream and can provide a current of “not a lot” to a “lot.” “A lot “requires some concentration on the exit point or a very long swim followed by a very long walk back, is the inevitable result. But, as temperatures remained in the 30 for most of the month, the river was a blessed addition at the end of a day of dripping sweat.

Conques

I omitted to mention that our host and friend at the campsite is also a keen cyclist and ten years younger and fitter than we are. Thus his recommended circuits (Oh, the climbing is not too bad!) did, on occasions, result in some unrefined and unrepeatable expletives. This is, however, a fabulous area for cycling. Most of the long climbs end on the plateau surrounding the rider with glorious views which stretch for miles. Do not, however, be fooled by the word “plateau the definition  of which is “elevated tract of comparatively flat or level land”. This plateau is intersected by ancient water courses and in places does not, in any way, fit this description. Nonetheless with almost traffic free roads, and nature in all her finery, it would be hard to find fault. We did a lot of climbing which “is not too bad” and never had to push the bikes, although I cannot pretend that we took no rests on the steepest of them there hills.  Alan’s super dooper bike computer informed us of the extent of our efforts and it was encouraging to note that the steepest stretch of a climb was 16% (not for long) and height gained was between 2000 to 3000 feet on each sortie except on the occasions that we tootled along the river. Recovery day, you understand!

September

September

It is now September. Summer is almost gone and without our completing a long ride. We have not though, dear reader, been totally idle. Our initial exuberance remains . The local terrain my not be as challenging as the mountains, but it does offer beautiful countryside and wide panoramas from many of the ridges. The Limousin  has much to recommend it. (Including the Tour de Limousin every summer). In addition to the magnificent limousine cattle, the hedgerows are full of flowers and the forests bursting with wildlife including the “chasse”! This latter helpfully informs you that a hunt is in progress, but we are still not sure how we are to dodge the bullets! (Big yellow jacket?!)

On our training run

As a result of these various excursions, our confidence on these different bikes has increased and, while Alan’s timed rides have shown an improvement, I am still smelling the roses and greeting other riders with a cheery “bonjour” when I have enough breath.  However, after a couple of months of local riding on what can best be described as undulating but rarely flat, we felt it was time to test our ability on more demanding terrain. I’m not sure why exactly…..

The Long Wait:

High Altitude Training

I note, with dismay, that the latest dated entry of this blog was December 2012! This crushing silence might indicate a lack of activity but that would be far from the truth. It does, however, accurately reflect my procrastination or maybe even writers block! To suffer from the latter, I would first need to qualify as a “writer” and this title is not one I would attribute to these literary offerings. No matter, writer or no, dear reader I am back!

New Bikes!

Following our interesting winter wanderings and long discussions with James of “Correze Cycling”, whose enthusiasm for cycling was acutely infectious, Alan’s mind meandered along the path of alternative bikes! For those loyal readers who have doggedly persevered with the reading of this blog will know, the question of taking up the riding of the bicycle was a blurred decision even at the outset. The prospect of purchasing more, if different bikes, was not one that I, for one, had contemplated. After all, with my granny gear and my qualification as a granny, I had formed an affectionate attachment to my touring bike. Riding it is /was a majestic experience. (Except when I fell off!) Why would I want another bike?

Never underestimate the power of testosterone!

Throughout January and February, Alan could be seen tapping keys and pushing around the mouse and viewing, I like to think, some hundreds of “sportive cycles”. He was a happy man, acquainting himself with manufacturers and their efforts to convince him of the superiority of their product. Meanwhile, happily unaware, that he was reviewing women’s bikes as well, our rides continued around our locale in between the unprecedented rainfall that our part of France experienced during the winter of 2113. These rides rarely exceeded 60 kilometres but performance and stamina continued to improve despite the multilayers of clothing required to maintain reasonable warmth.

By the end of February, Al’s dogged determination could no longer be ignored. Bombarded with technical data, manufacturers’ claims and a deluge of enthusiasm, it was agreed that we would seriously explore the possibility of two old age pensioners purchasing “sportive” bikes. A number of questions required answers:

Would our backs bend to accommodate drop handlebars? And stay in that position long enough to complete a ride!

Would we be able to lift our necks far enough to see where we were going!

Without the advantage of a granny gear, would we be able to climb the hills we enjoyed!

And last but not least, would we look ridiculous!

Mary's Trek Domane 4.5 

The only sure way of answering these queries, was to live dangerously and go for broke. With renewed vigour, Al took on the challenge of finalising our choice and then, more importantly, locating a supplier.  After two months of research, the former turned out to be a good deal simpler than the latter. Trek Domane 4.5, it was agreed, would provide us with comfort and appropriate sizing. (I used to be 5’ 2” but old age has squashed my vertebra by a whole inch, so finding a well-proportioned cycle was not easy).  Many days, emails and telephone calls later, by far the best offer was made by ‘The Bike Shed’ in Cardiff. (It is one of the pleasures of writing this blog, that we are able to compliment people and organisations who go that extra mile to provide an exceptional service.) Not only did the Bike Shed accept the order to supply the bikes, they would allow us to try them out before we agreed to a final purchase. The fact that we lived in France, and would be restricted on our dates for collection, caused no problem at all. With some excitement and even more trepidation, we entered the shop on the 18^th March. The bikes looked splendid!  But would we look splendid when we tried them out? The last time we had ridden with drop handlebars was more than forty years ago! And we didn’t want to look really foolish! Anxiety was rapidly banished as our bodies, if not our brains, remembered how to ride this different style of bike. Suddenly I didn’t care if I looked silly; this was a whole new type of ride and the challenges would be very different.The First Ride with Drops

The remainder of our holiday was taken in the beautiful countryside of Wales where the lanes are bounded by hedges. Ploughing into a hedge was not the introduction we were looking for. Nothing against hedges – just that they are rather dense and prickly. So we contained our excitement until we returned to our quiet part of rural France where the roads and the car drivers are a little more forgiving – sometimes! and where we could follow a route we knew. This latter is a hilly “round the block” of about 24 k + 360 metres of ascent and we felt confident that we could successfully negotiate the roads without mishap. (The great thing about a touring bike is that nobody expects you to ride fast. On a road bike you are a target for every other rider on the road! This can be a little daunting so I ensure that, as they pass, they see my wrinkles and Alan’s grey hair!) I digress. Finally, astride the bike for the first time, anxiety increased. What if I couldn’t climb the hill and, heaven forbid, had to get off and walk – the shame! And what about descents? Could I reach and control the brakes? Would I wobble off when confronted by the mutts which always bark as we go past? By this time Alan, with apparently none of these misgivings, was well on his way neither wobbling nor struggling with new gears. If I was to stay in touch I must put my angst well to the back of what brain I have left. An hour later, we had completed the block without mishap and without any embarrassment but, for me, with about the same level of puffing and panting.  We almost felt like real bike riders except that the speed I was doing downhill was the same as Bradley does uphill! Some way to go then!