|
Day 1: Home - Wimereux 57 k
School holidays have begun and the ferry from Dover to Calais this Saturday is chock-a-block. We grab a seat and feel lucky to have a view. Despite the crowds on board, we are the only cyclists. It is a swift crossing and within hours we are listening to the honking horns marking yet another Saturday wedding in a provincial French town. The nationality of the other cars can be told, before the number plate appears, by the space they leave when passing cyclists - the British give the least with the Belgians coming a close second. The French nearly always leave enough space and wait to overtake until the road is clear.
The Calais countryside is surprisingly varied when seen from a bike (as opposed to the TGV). There are open fields, dramatic mining landscapes, small farms separated by marshy stretches and steep hills with views of the Channel between headlands. We pass brand new one-storey houses, as well as the traditional Pas-de-Calais homes - low whitewashed cottages around a messy farmyard. I am still suffering from a bad cold and the remains of jetlag from the USA so I stay behind G, head down. A gale-force wind, growing in strength by the mile, also keeps us low on our bikes. However, it isn't long before we are in our hotel room, briefly admiring a view of the stormy sea from our private veranda. Almost too tired to enjoy dinner, we are asleep by 9:30pm.
Day 2: Wimereux - Boulogne (plus Paris - Saverne via train) 11 k
G is up early for a freezing stroll along the wind-blasted promenade. During breakfast, we can see people walking by, hair and coats blown wild by the wind. I have no voice and am exhausted but we only have a few miles to cycle today. The wind is against us so it takes a surprisingly long time to complete the few miles to the Boulogne train station. The North Sea Cycle Route is smooth and wide with fantastic views of the sea, waves flying high in the bright sunshine. [PHOTO]
Boulogne is an attractive town and worth a visit. The ramparts take us past the grand government building where Napoleon I spent the night and further on to the spot where his nephew, Louis-Napoléon (the future Napoleon III) made his first attempt at a coup d'état.
Taking bikes on a French train is very easy! Cycles are placed in a former 4-seater compartment which has been cleared of all its fittings. There are no hooks for the bikes so we just place them against the wall. There are clear instructions informing us that we should tell the conductor and/or leave a note on the bike saying where we are sitting and where we are getting off. On both trains, the cycle area is in a smoking coach and the outside is clearly marked with a large drawing of a bicycle. Only certain trains can take bicycles, so you need to check the SNCF website. If the train journey begins at the station it is possible to go beforehand to load the bike and take luggage to your seat. We locked the bikes as they were not in a protected or guarded area.
A few hours later we are in Paris. The sun has warmed the park benches near the Gare de l'Est and we enjoy a comfortable wait while we observe a drama between a pimp and his "girlfriend" who has a noticeable drug problem. Otherwise, the once seedy Canal Saint-Martin quartier has now been gentrified. The place is full of middle-class families and very well-dressed small children falling over in the gravel. The whistle-blowing park attendant is fairly fierce and even 4-year olds are told to walk their tricycles.
The train pulls out of Paris as the sun is setting. Silence reigns on the train since mobile phone calls are taken in the corridors. How civilised! It is nearly midnight when we arrive in the dark and deserted train station of Saverne. Rain is falling and the wind is cold. I am relieved when the hotel finally opens its doors after G leans on the buzzer (we had booked in advance and warned of our late arrival). The owner is sleepy but friendly and we are soon in a nice warm room. I fall asleep remembering accounts read to me by G about the Col de Saverne, visible from the bedroom window.
"The Col de Saverne - an admirable road, which leads
by a large number of unnoticeably gradual bends
to the mountain ridge - rises in a very gentle slope,
winding all the way, over a length of 13,041 metres.
It passes over seventeen bridges which are hidden from view.
Several of these bridges are 100 metres wide."
"Curiosités naturelles et sites pittoresques",
in Guide pittoresque, portatif et complet, 1842. Tr. GR |
Day 3: Saverne - Saverne 58 k
Today's lesson: in a hailstorm, going downhill is more painful than going uphill... Warm dishes from the buffet breakfast strengthen our resolve to climb the Col de Saverne despite the glowering sky and scudding clouds. Within ¼ mile, a downpour has us running for cover (which leads to the question, why do so few French buildings offer any shelter?). A five-minute wait makes us colder but at least we are only damp when we start the ascent soon afterwards. The gradient is as comfortable as promised by the 1842 account and the trucks have plenty of space to pass. However, the views are soon obliterated by another dose of heavy rain, followed by hail, then sleet, so that by the time we reach the top at 410 metres we are blue with cold and very wet. Not too good for my cough either.
Just as we are preparing to turn back, the rain eases and the sun comes out. The National Park of the Upper Vosges is very pretty: broad and gentle valleys and hazy green woods. Away from the route nationale, traffic is very light. We bask in the faint warmth of a wan sun. It is not enough to dry us out so we shorten the day after seeing Graufthal, a troglodyte village where half a dozen tourists are scurrying back to their van. We clamber up to the few remaining rock houses which open directly onto a broad stone roadway. Tiny windows mirror the small size of the dwellings. [PHOTO]
We emerge from the woods into a shallow bowl of gently curving green meadows with a dome of light blue hanging overhead. The villages are not very populous but most of them have two churches, one Catholic and one Protestant. No shops are open. Some elderly hotel owners tell us, "It's Monday" (i.e. everything is shut). By chance, we manage to find a café at La Petite Pierre serving lunchtime drinks to local farmers. G hears his first Alsatian in between using the hand dryer to decrease the moisture level in his dripping wet socks. We continue on to Engolsheim, which, typically, is composed of several large houses and barns, connected to form a courtyard or farmyard.
Highland cattle have been imported and seem to be doing well in these luscious pastures, brightened by the pink and white blossom of pear and plum trees. Drivers are very considerate but it is nice to switch to a cycle path which runs along a former railroad with views of the surrounding hills.
Between 1870 and 1914, and again during WWII this region was annexed by Germany. I can tell by the food that we are in a different part of France. We have dinner in a friendly family restaurant which has retained style and quality while catering to a wide range of diners. I have Munster (the only cheese of the region) struedel with coriander seed sauce followed by delicious meat balls in a sauce with a selection of vegetables. G has terrine with caramelised red peppers followed by wild boar stew. Dumplings fried with onions and bacon is a traditional dish which replaces the usual potatoes. Sylvaner wine is fine for an apéritif.
Day 4: Saverne - Strasbourg 50 k
"The coach had left Strasbourg long before.
What was I to do? The only solution was to run
after it. It had been raining and there were still
occasional showers. The cobbles were slippery and the
only support I had was my feeble sword. Strasbourg is
seven leagues from Saverne. I covered the distance, as
far as possible, without stopping to eat or drink and I
caught up with the coach only as it was entering the
courtyard of the inn at Saverne where it was to spend
the night."
Johan Georg Wille, Mémoires, 1857.
|
The view from the breakfast room suggests a long spell of heavy showers. We are wet within 5 minutes of leaving the hotel. Many years ago we stopped bringing rainproof ponchos in an attempt to lighten the panniers. If the weather is warm, a little moisture is easily ignored. But this April morning is cold and we decide to buy some rain gear in Strasbourg. On a positive note, we are on a wide cycle path along the Marne-Rhine Canal. It has been swept clear by the wind, has an excellent surface and a sufficient mixture of views to make us forget the rain and cold from time to time. A strong NW wind is behind us so we can't complain about that!
The hillside towns are marked by tall steeples. Blue-grey herons appear like elegant stone statues until we are within a metre when they take off in an ungainly manner. Flocks of swans, padding about near the river bank are worryingly oblivious as we whirl past breaking the 20 kph speed limit. No one is out to enforce it and no one is sitting under the two fishermen's umbrellas we see propped up on the bank. We stop under the bridges when the path takes us that way but most of the time we go up and over the bridge and across the generally empty road. At one point, when we are close to a town, we hear a "bleep, bleep" as we approach a crossing and assume that a bridge is about to be raised. What a surprise to find that a light has changed automatically to stop the cars so that we can cross unimpeded! By now the sun has appeared. If we had known (the newspaper predicted rain all day), we would have waited before starting off. Ah well.
The bike path provides an easy entry into Strasbourg via the European Parliament [PHOTO] but the first hotel is full. In our hunt for another hotel we have a chance to try out the extensive and excellent bike lanes. Either priority is given to cycles or there are stop/go lights specifically for cycles. Large, dark green patches on the road make it obvious that cycles have priority. The tramlines cause G's timer to go slightly mad. There is none of the car/cycle antagonism I am used to in the UK and USA.
Strasbourg is full of Germanic style houses and buildings painted in primary colours. In the bike shop (where we buy rain proof jackets) we hear yet more Alsatian. The cathedral is dark and gloomy but has a massive astronomical clock with images of Roman gods to signify the days of the week. I wait to watch the automata. The first stroke is made by an angel. The hour hand is struck by Death. If you want to see any references to Christianity, you have to wait until 12:30pm when the Apostles can be seen bowing to Christ as they pass in front of him. There is a gloating statue on one of the facades showing the Synagogue succumbing to Christianity.
Continuing the water theme, we have dinner in the former Customs House through which a branch of the River Rhine used to flow. We spend a warm, dry evening enjoying a deliciously layered asparagus salad, duck and pintade, rhubarb pie with almond ice cream and Alsatian Pinot Noir wine.
Day 5: Strasbourg - Le Hohwald 65 k
A very cold morning but rainless! Blue sky interrupts the cloud. We leave the city using more bike paths until we find ourselves back on the perfectly smooth canal bike route. The sun emerges (now that we have bought rain gear) and it is easy to enjoy the lovely views of a countryside in bloom. Plane trees, just coming into leaf, line the canal. Having missed the bike path exit to Nordhouse, we leave it at Erstein and head for Obernai on the D426.
Luminescent green and pink buildings with wooden balustrades offer pleasant distractions. In contrast, the vineyards we pass are bare and cold. The road is part of the heavily advertised Route des Vins - quite narrow and much too busy for a comfortable ride.
Obernai has retained its 16th century buildings, all beautifully maintained. The town gives a good impression of the past (other than its extreme cleanliness). A lone church spire soars high above its square tower. A vineyard rises steeply to the north.
We are soon winding our way up to Sainte-Odile (patron saint of Alsace), a place of pilgrimage since the 8th century and former convent. In the 19th century it became popular as a health resort. At an unknown time, a Celtic tribe built a massive wall along the steep and wooded mountain side. The Romans reinforced the walls which now form a tourist trail for walkers. We visit an intact part of the "Pagan Wall" and are amazed by its size, after centuries of harsh weather and human infestation. [PHOTO]
There are wonderful views through the pine trees, but as we arrive at the top, snow starts to fall in earnest. White pellets sting our faces as we descend the last 3 kilometres into Le Hohwald, advertised as a "small and secluded resort". Several hours of gentle sunshine melt the snow to uncover a completely different view of the surrounding forests and meadows, now bathed in shades of lavender, spring green and bright yellows. [PHOTO]
Similarly colourful are the Easter decorations across the road from us. We have cycled past many of these during the day. Wooden boards (12" x 24") are painted in bright colours with pictures of rabbits, chickens, eggs, flowers, etc. Sometimes, the wooden boards are cut into the shape of the animal or, more simply, an oval is coloured to represent an egg. These are arranged on the verge, on lawns and in the town-centre flower display. Many appear to have been made by the local school children; others are professionally painted. Shops hang smaller versions of coloured eggs on potted shrubs and trees outside their entrance. Green ribbons add further colour. There is no suggestion of the Christian Easter, only the pagan rites of Spring.
After a brief tour of the few houses and hotels (many of them in ruins) we return to try the regional Crémant d'Alsace, a sparkling white wine which tastes like champagne made from apples. The cold weather enhances our appetite for the locally made rabbit terrine, venison stew and mixture of fresh spring vegetables.
Day 6: Le Hohwald - Saint-Dié 51 k
G has been reading to me about the feral guinea pigs of the Alsace plain whose bite is fierce and painful. As our reading is a mixture of guides from the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries, I am unsure whether or not to take any precautions. Of course, we could be worried about frost bite. The wintery wind which pushed us towards the village has brought four inches of snow. On opening the curtains, we are entranced by views of a winter wonderland. [PHOTO] We eat as much as we can of the buffet breakfast knowing that we will need the fuel on this cold and sunny morning.
Apparently, going over 7 mountain passes is the shortest way to St Dié...! The roads are clear, though there is snow on the road over the Col de la Charbonnière [PHOTO] and the Col de Steige, and the climbs at times are very steep (10%). However, as we are doing only 30 miles today, there is no need to hurry. Wooded hillsides, dusted white, and meadows turning green in the warming sunshine, form a beautiful backdrop to the day's cycling. Animals are hiding away, as are most cars. Silence reigns. We take a detour and clamber up a steep slope at Bourg-Bruche to visit a small Mennonite chapel. The notices outside the simple structure attempt to explain the beliefs of this Protestant sect.
The houses begin to look less Germanic but this may be due to rebuilding after the war. Merchandise evacuation centres (otherwise known as retail outlets) are more prevalent than we would wish, since they also result in more traffic and are generally a blot on the landscape.
Saint-Dié, which was flattened by the Allies, is mostly modern and commercial but also very provincial. Behind our hotel is one of the main attractions of the town - the Liberty Monument - a modern structure resembling an airport watch tower painted white with flying string buttresses. The structural theme is repeated in the design of lamp posts and the main bridge linking a "wild west" style shopping street with a set of wide roadways leading to the church. People are extremely friendly.
We stop off in a PMU cafe (almost always filled with working class folk reading horse racing reports) to listen to an undecipherable foreign language which G concludes, after intense listening, is not Alsatian, Welche or Lorrain but Serbo-Croat. We visit the Pierre-Noël Museum, which has some interesting exhibits about the timber sledges (schlitte) which were once used to bring wood down from the steep mountain sides to the river. Photographs show the men, standing on the front of the fully loaded sleds, using their hobnail-booted feet to slow the sleds as they careened down the mountain on wooden rails. Wooden crosses once marked the many spots where a sledge had crushed its driver.
The museum also contains the only stone remnant of the printer's house where the name "America" first appeared in print - in three maps of the world published in 1507.
We are relearning tips for winter cycling, e.g. put plastic bags over feet before putting on your shoes, cover your head in multiple layers, use vaseline on your legs to protect them from the wind, have dishwashing plastic gloves which can be used to protect your gloves from the rain and cold. Unusually, we find we crave chocolate, especially in the morning.
Day 7: Saint-Dié - Riquewihr 89 k
Mist hangs heavy. We leave via a cycle lane which soon disappears. It doesn't matter since the traffic is so light. Two other cyclists, a man and a woman, pass us on racing bikes. All is quiet. We start to climb through thick forest on what we think is the road to the Col de Mandray. Unfortunately, we miss the turning and find ourselves on a long, narrow and ever steeper road. When the front wheel rears up, G gets off and walks the 25%+ gradient road. I give up earlier and walk the last kilometre. At the top, there is a memorial to storm damage in the 1980s and to those killed in the war.
After a nice descent to Fraize, we are on the main road over the Vosges and the Col du Bonhomme. Traffic is much heavier. We leave the main road and its gentler slope, and head up the old road which, according to a sign, is "not cleared of snow" (col non déneigé). This road climbs in an almost straight line the height that the main road climbs in five broad bends. As we emerge from the forest, we find the road covered in snow, except for a lone set of car tyre tracks, now slippery with black ice. [PHOTO] The mist has cleared at this height and we have long views down into the valley below. Everything is white. We are at the top of the Col du Bonhomme.
We turn off onto a wonderful ridge road with a gentle gradient. The massive branches of spruce trees hang low with the weight of snow and absorb all sound on this nearly deserted road. We swoop along a wide curve out of the forest to the road which will take us up to the Col du Calvaire. More snow and cold air surround us. We are already wearing all our cycling clothes to stay warm on this ascent. However, the water bottles are not freezing so it can't be all that cold! The sun is out and the scenery is beautiful. At the top we meet a few other people who have driven up with their snow shoes and ski poles. Do we continue climbing? (The plan was to head for Munster via the Col du Lac vert and the Col de la Schlucht, descending through Soultzeren.)
The decision is made for us by a snow blocked closed road, the fallen col sign peering out from a snow drift. [PHOTO] We alter the route and head down to Obrey via the Lac Blanc. [PHOTO] We enjoy a fantastic descent (though rather technical) with clear and sunny views of the Grand Ballon mountain range stretched out, mile after mile, topped in gleaming white snow. It is very reminiscent of the Alps. A Logis de France hotel near the top is appropriately named "Panoramic View". The White Lake high up in the mountains produces a final blast of cold air. Further descending brings us to meadows, now green, and to warmer breezes. We arrive in Munster, a very pretty Alsatian town with colourful and varied architecture, a large red sandstone church and pistachio green town hall. There are lots of racing cyclists zooming about.
We leave the town and finally see the bike path across the river. We pick it up at a massive roundabout buzzing with cars. It is worth the trouble of locating this path which meanders through a wide and open valley with views of conical shaped hillsides covered in vineyards.
The path is horizontal rather than vertical and we are joined by a rollerskater. Visions of white are now fruit trees in bloom. At Wihr-au-val we are forced to leave the bike path since it loops back to Munster instead of going on, as we had been told it would by the map. This takes us out of the Fecht Valley, along a river through various pretty towns, such as, Turckheim where we stop to walk through the cobbled streets. We leave via a local street which takes us to a single track road marked "vineyard only". We have a great view of the Pflixbourg fortress on this hillside covered in vineyards. The gradients are fine. The only "traffic" is a few people strolling along. We are now in a "microclimate which allows for earlier blooming". We bask in the warmth and the wide views across this landscape, flat, except for the triangular hills criss-crossed by a patchwork of dull brown vines.
The paved road deteriorates and we are forced to return to the main "Route des Vins" road to Niedermorschwihr. It is narrow with much traffic and no space for bikes. We come out alive and arrive in Riquewihr, a 16th century town, unspoiled by any subsequent war. It is one of France's "prettiest village". These towns are usually to be avoided but since visitors have to park their cars outside the village (and we have pre-booked our hotel) all is fine. Window baskets are full of coloured eggs and toy bunny rabbits, decked with green and yellow ribbons. All the best architectural features of the 16th century can be seen in this town. We wander amongst an amazing array of courtyards with elaborately decorated wells, wooden galleries, the remains of ramparts with portcullises - and our hotel which dates from 1566 and is opposite a house with a very rare outer spiral staircase. Storks nest in the highest buildings in the village.
Day 8: Riquewihr - Eguisheim 76 k
An 1835 coach, parked in a courtyard, advertises the Musée de la Diligence. It doesn't take long to see the few other 19th century coaches, paintings, photos and examples of clothes worn by the coachmen. Huge boots, fit for a giant, are the most evocative item in this tiny museum.
A late start as we head for Hunawihr which looks down onto the Plaine d'Alsace and the three castles of Ribeauvillé. We visit a "simultaneous church", used by Catholics and Protestants since Louis XIV instructed them to do so. The interior is being decorated for the Easter service by two people. Is one Catholic and the other Protestant? It is not at all obvious the church is shared by two very different congregations, except by reading the notice board which has a different message for each Christian group.
We enter the flat plain of the Rhine. As it is a Saturday, the "industrial zone" is very quiet. We pass and are passed by various groups of cyclists, all German. They assume we are German though we are in France. We learn to call out greetings in both languages. There is no sighting of the great river until we cross a bridge at Neuf Brisach which marks the border into Germany. The cycle paths are not very useful as they appear and disappear. We stop at a cafe and sit outside enjoying this unusually warm and sunny day. G gets to practise his German. I learn the word for "cake" which we hear all around us - from the other people sitting in the cafe, from those walking past and even from a Mother calling out to her cycling son that she "has bought the cakes".
We return to France and head towards Colmar. It looks very pretty in the guidebook but is too dominated by cars to be enjoyed. We don't linger but head on to Eguisheim on a four lane motorway. It feels safer than the Route des Vins because of the wide hard shoulder.
We enter the town over cobbled roadways, pleasantly clear of car traffic. It is late afternoon and most of the day-trippers have returned to bigger towns. Food and a shower restore us for yet more 16th century architectural features, of which this town is replete. Stone gateways lead into courtyards with flower-strewn external staircases, massive water fountains, a watch tower and a 13th century fortified wall which marks the birthplace of Pope Leon IX. The village is famous for its wine from the pinot noir grape but it is still surprising to find vineyards abut the town walls. The rabbit stew I have for dinner is served with egg noodles which have been cooked in the dredges from wine making (creating a bitter and interesting taste). At a table near us is a group of twenty year olds, out for a celebratory dinner drinking coca-cola rather than wine - a trend which is worrying French wine-makers.
Day 9: Eguisheim - Thann 82 k
Our attempt to find out about the weather from the Tourist Offices is hopeless. They are required to provide this information but all we see is a print-out from a generic Yahoo weather report or a cutting from the local newspaper. The weather reporting on the television news is equally worthless, so, we are forced to wait and see. This morning, we wake to heavy grey cloud and drizzle. It is Easter so there is more traffic than usual on this "must go to church at least once this year" Sunday.
At Guebwiller we start wandering into the hills surrounding the Grand Ballon. We continue to pass through very pretty villages but they are less ornate (and post-16th century). Gentle climbing until Lautenbach when a large signboard listing five cols shows that all but one is closed! [PHOTO] We either have to turn around and go a busier route to Thann, or go via Markstein, the one opened col. We find out later it is a 6% average gradient. However, it is very steep in parts and is a psychologically challenging climb because the road almost always appears to be flat - but clearly isn't as I struggle up. Cold muscles don't make it easier. Wonderful views of a cascading mountain stream seen through the fresh green pine forest, provides some distraction, as do the large boulders of granite left by ancient glaciers.
Heavy fog and mist descend just as deep snow appears along the roadside. Visibility is about 1 metre/3 feet. I stop and pounce on a container of peanut butter while G investigates where we should be going. I can hear dogs and children playing in the snow - but no sight of them though they are next to me. I can, however see three women from Africa having their photo taken by two crudely-speaking white men. So incongruous on this otherwise silent mountain top.
G concludes that the col we had originally planned to go over really is closed (blocked by snow) so we start heading down, the sweat generated by the hard climb up freezing as we descend along snow-lined roads. [PHOTO] The mist rises and is replaced by views of a lake, water like black glass edged by dark green fir trees. A cycle path leads us through valleys, reminiscent of the Alps. Families are out walking in the fresh sunshine. The bike path begins to meander a bit too much and when we are faced with a short sharp ascent, we decide to join the main road. The last 8 kilometres, from St Amarin into Thann is very busy. At a railroad crossing, the rim on my back wheel buckles slightly (and will get worse as the days go by).
Thann, officially an "industrial town" due to its wine production, has no such appearance. A heavily decorated Gothic cathedral dominates the centre and off on side roads are the ruins of various fortresses from different centuries. Signposting provides lengthy explanations of the sights. The hotel is modern and run by a couple who are divorced in all but their physical proximity to each other. Regional fare is not available on this Easter Sunday but an Italian restaurant provides us with salad and pasta as well as a long conversation with local women about the speaking of Alsatian. It is claimed that no one but the "older generation" speaks Alsatian but when questioned further, they admit that school children now are learning it and they know some because of their parents. We return to our hotel past a shop where language text books are sold for those wishing to learn Alsatian.
Click here for Part Two
Click here for photographs
Back to home page
|
| |