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Day 1: Calais - Boulogne-sur-Mer
Rain spits and pummels our faces as we come off the ferry at Calais. It is even colder than in England and I wonder if I should have packed warmer clothes amongst our 21 pounds of luggage. No passport check at either end so we climb over a fence (ok, so it is only a foot high) to avoid cycling a round-about way which would have added 2 miles to our journey. After a year of planning (and negotiating for me to be off work), we are finally here, in France, in a wet, dirty and cold coastal town. Our 2-star hotel in Boulogne-sur-Mer is just that, but the family is very friendly and a traditional French meal in the surprisingly named "Welsh Pony" restaurant reminds us why we were determined to get to France for the first night of our travels.
Day 2: Boulogne-sur-Mer - Paris
For the first time we are using trains to get us to the south of France where we will begin the real cycling trip. After getting off the ferry yesterday we took a local train from Calais to Boulogne-sur-Mer. This morning we take a train to Paris. We load the bikes ourselves on both trips, which are wonderfully uneventful. The French train conductor kisses many of the passengers who hop on board - a stark contrast to our train journey to the coast of Britain where the woman pushing the food trolley not only runs into our bikes but fails to say anything! Paris is so sunny and warm and we are so tired, we just take a long afternoon nap before having dinner with friends and colleagues.
Day 3: Paris - Avignon - Fontaine-de-Vaucluse 58 k
Our first TGV trip with bikes and it works - but it is a good idea to arrive early, as advised by
SNCF. There are two separate carriages for bikes, one at either end of the train. The bikes are hung up by the wheels. We lock them together to stop their swaying for the two hour journey to Avignon.
Cocooned in the carriage of this fast-moving train, we seem to be seeing the changing landscape on a television screen. Reality hits us at 50mph as we descend from the train. The Mistral is blowing and we struggle to stay upright as we walk along the platform with our bikes.
Cycling into Avignon is rather tense: heavy traffic and poor directions. Fortunately there are cycle lanes everywhere and that is a help, even though they are rather narrow and vehicles don't give any extra space. You have to hope side mirrors are tucked in. We are relieved to reach Pernes-les-Fontaines. We stop in the shade beside one of the thirty fountains hidden amongst narrow winding stone streets. On the outskirts is a statue of a famous local cyclist, Velocio, the founder of "cyclotourisme", backed by a stone incised with a relief map of the Rhone Valley. [PHOTO]
The roads are quiet now and we can enjoy the blast of heat as we climb up to la Roque-sur-Pernes. A fountain at the top in the shade of chestnut trees offers the perfect opportunity to wash the bikes (cycling in two wet capital cities has made them filthy). Curtains twitch in the house opposite and eventually an older woman emerges, curious to know what we are doing. She comments on the strength of the wind (vent) but her pronunciation makes it sound like wine (vin) which results in a rather confused conversation.
Fontaine-de-Vaucluse is a long, narrow town in the shape of a horse-shoe hugging the banks of a fast-flowing river. Surrounded by cliffs coloured by wild flowers and punctuated by the wide opening of caves, this pretty town is not surprisingly packed with French tourists. The narrow roads are chock-a-block with cars and all the hotels are full. We find that the Internet booking has not worked and we are without a place to stay. We have cycled less than 40 kms but it is early evening and we are tired. The owners of the hotel where we thought we had booked are very kind and spend at least 30 minutes on the telephone finding other accommodation for us. We end up in a chambre-d'hote about 2 kms away. A friendly older couple show us to our homely room. The bikes are stored in a shed away from the tortoises who roam the garden.
We walk back to the hotel for dinner. Our river view of twinkling campsite lights on the opposite bank suddenly goes dark. Yells come from the pitch-black kitchen. Candles are produced and dinner proceeds. We find out the next day that a fire on the outskirts of Marseille under high-tension cables (a hundred miles away) resulted in the electricity being cut for this entire region (the same size as Wales or Tennessee) until 2am. The nuns who make communion wafers for France and Africa - the only industry in this tourist town - must have been worried.
Day 4: Fontaine-de-Vaucluse - Céreste 72 k
The French holiday makes the roads very busy and it is unfortunate that we are going through so many traditional tourist sites today. The Lyon-Avignon-Aix-Marseille corridor is particularly busy. Very beautiful but too built-up for our comfort. Gordes, as attractive as promised by the brochures, is full of very expensive hotels, restaurants and shops. Narrow and steep stone alleyways branch off from cool, low covered archways leading to sunny courtyards full of people basking in the sun. We buy supplies and decide we have the energy to climb the Côte de Sénanque for a view of the abbey of Sénanque in its lavender field setting made famous by so many photos. The lavender isn't in bloom but the view is wonderful and the descent back to Gordes exhilarating.
We continue on our route, up towards Bonnieux. It is very pretty as well, with houses climbing up the steep cone-shaped hill. Even though Bonnieux is full of tourists, the roads are much quieter now. We pass by fields of lavender containing stone structures made when clearing the fields of rock. [PHOTO] They were built for animal, or occasionally for human habitation. These "bories" vary greatly in size. Interestingly, they are found only in a small part of this region. We stop and explore a massive example, built in three sections, just off the road.
We climb higher, passing olive groves, huge mulberry bushes and the occasional shade tree, most welcome on this hot afternoon (34C/93F). The smell of wild thyme and marjoram baking in the sun raises our hopes for a delicious dinner. We enter Céreste by a cycle route, one of the many routes into this town which has been a stopping place for travellers for over 1,000 years. The hill-top hostelry is on the Domitian Way (Roman link between Italy and Spain). It welcomes cyclists and produces wonderful meals. We watch a high-spirited town celebration from our upstairs window while stretching our backs, in some pain after climbing the equivalent of Mont Ventoux.
Day 5: Céreste - Saint-Maximin 80 k
The Roman road is young in comparison to the site, in Artigues, where the remains of 40,000 year old houses were found. To get there we climb the Col de l'Aire dei Masco, a gradual uphill past scrubby forest. The other side is in stark contrast, much greener, with farms. The weather is fantastic and the only other road-users are cyclists. Mirabeau is a pretty village sitting on a hillside. There is great excitement in the boulangerie where special cakes are being made to celebrate Mother's Day. Around the corner a badly scratched recording of the Marseillaise blasts out of a window while a few officials stand at attention with flags and flowers at hand for VE Day.
We cross the Durance and pass a tiny house for the road builder who was expected, until early this century, to live and work on site. Soon we are enjoying views of Esparron, distant snow-capped mountains and the monastery (Le Couvent Royal) where we will be staying. While we relax in a former monk's cell, the bikes rest in the former refectory which was used to feed the thousands of pilgrims who came to see the relics of Mary Magdalen. The monastery is now owned by the State and "done up" for wealthy tourists. The hot afternoon sun soon drives us into the cool of the basilica where G is interested to find 19th-century graffiti on the pedestals just inside the entrance. I am fascinated by the relics which make Mary Magdalen look like the mother of Darth Vader. Very scary.
The monastery restaurant is closed so we go to the Hôtel de France where we have a delectable asparagus sorbet, perfectly cooked tuna and a divine pear soufflé - by far the best meal of the trip and highly recommended!
Day 6: Saint-Maximin - Aix-en-Provence 44 k
A lavish breakfast is served in a refectory near the cloisters, the whistling of the Bristol band Goldfrapp bouncing off the vaulted ceiling. We leave behind the skull of Mary Magdalen and venture into Cézanne country. One col with three names (Col du Cengle/Collet St Pierre/Collet Blanc de Suberoque) lies on the southern side of the more famous Montagne Sainte-Victoire. We cycle towards it for miles with fantastic views of its purple bulk. It appears ever greyer and greener as we approach. It is a wide, low mountain and even after we reach the base, we have to cycle alongside for several miles before finally crossing what will be our 100th col in France. A simple white line is all that marks this achievement but road workers on the col, who bow as we pass, must have sensed the dramatic moment.
Hillside villages are noisy with happy schoolchildren. We are following a route which takes us past many of the villages frequented and painted by Cézanne. Cyclists abound, alone or in groups with even a few women making an appearance. [PHOTO] Entering Aix-en-Provence is no effort using the route via Le Tholonet. The bustle of this busy town is in complete contrast to St Maximin but the dinner is nearly as good. The main course is a rabbit breast wrapped around a partially boiled carrot (ha ha) while cabbage leaves are wrapped around cheese with guacamole for the starter. Stacking has obviously been replaced by wrapping as the new serving theme. The hotel room is dark and cool with its own veranda where the bikes have pride of place.
Day 7: Aix-en-Provence
A rest day with time for a hike up to Cézanne's atelier. Japanese tourists and French schoolchildren quickly fill the painter's upstairs studio. It has been left as it was in 1906 when he died. Most striking are the grey plastered walls, forever shaded by north-facing windows. Objects used in his paintings are on display, as are his weather-beaten coats and boots. The schoolchildren move outside to learn how to draw an apple. The Japanese tourist group takes photos of the lesson.
Returning to the city centre, we pass former Roman baths which are now a sports centre. The entrance way is dominated by an ungainly monument, built in Year 4 of the Republic, displaying all too clearly the bowing and scraping of local officials to the revolutionary régime. The Saint-Sauveur Cathedral is well worth a visit, especially the cloisters. A 5th-century Roman tombstone is part of the construction which is intricately carved in stone. Eastern and western designs mark the different sides. One of the posts is carved into a statue of St Matthew who points the route by which one should walk round the cloisters. Inside the cathedral is a beautifully carved statue of St Margaret emerging from the back of the dragon which is eating her. Marvellous. The Musée du Vieil Aix is more interesting as a building than for its displays.
Day 8: Aix-en-Provence - Saint-Rémy-de-Provence 84 k
Odd junctions and difficult parking arrangements make the road system in Salon-de-Provence dangerous for any vehicles passing through this unattractive and busy town. However, we are soon on the D24 and across les Alpilles where the roads are quiet and the scenery is pretty. Bright red poppies flower beneath olive trees and butterflies hover near the verges covered in wild thyme. Round low hills become rockier. Large stones, sunburnt red, have been sculpted by the wind into fantastical shapes. At each turn of the road we gasp at yet another natural creation. Les Baux, a village melded into the rock face, is in this wonderful setting. The car tourists walk a set route around the town. The roads are now for cyclists, of which there are many.
Downhill to Saint-Rémy-de-Provence where we spend several hours wandering about the ruins of Glanum, much too hot even in the early evening. Excavated in 1920, it contains the ruins of a fully functional small Roman town from the 1st and 2nd century BC (in the 6th and 7th centuries BC it was a Greek/Celtic-Ligurian town). The Romans added aqueducts and sewers and completely rebuilt the Greek town, except for the private houses which were redecorated. Temples, administrative buildings, baths, shops and houses are easily identified. A well-preserved monument in memory of the Romans who distinguished themselves in military campaigns and a triumphal arch stand beside the former Roman road which is still in heavy use today.
The Logis de France hotel is desperately over-priced and the most unpleasant of this trip - not recommended. The bikes are forced to skulk amongst the trash cans and are most unhappy. We later find that the garbage men had to move them out of the way... We drop into a minor depression brought on by our hotel room which is covered, ceilings and walls, by dark blue carpet.
Day 9: Saint-Rémy-de-Provence - Arles 51 k
Unfriendly staff, leftover bread toasted for breakfast and a grey sky make for a glum beginning. At least it isn't Sunday when bulls run through the streets, goaded and taunted by the local males. Our spirits are improved by the small and pretty village of Maillane where we stop by the birthplace and home of Frédéric Mistral, the 19th-century poet who reinvigorated a form of the Provençal language through his writing and campaigning. It is a short day, mostly spent in the plain beside fields of wheat, market vegetables and verges smelling sweetly of various herbs. A transhumance route, deeply rutted with low vegetation on either side, cuts a wide swathe across the fields. This weekend, it will be crowded with sheep and cattle, dressed in ribbons and bells for their annual migration.
The St Gabriel Church, stuck on a hillside beside a busy motorway displays a fascinating mixture of Roman and Celtic motifs. Two other touring cyclists stop as well but are shy of conversation so we are forced to guess their nationality by their clothing and equipment (rather obviously American). We enter Arles via a very quiet road which runs alongside the noisy and congested motorway. Hotels are incredibly inexpensive in this touristy town (possibly because most are on day trips) and we book ourselves into the Cloître, across the road from the Roman amphitheatre. The Arles museum has wonderful dioramas and a good selection of objects from "daily life". Meanwhile, modern "daily life" is dominated by hoards of police and Japanese tourists. Dinner at Au Brin de Thym: recommended for its creative cooking as well as its wine list.
Day 10: Arles - Avignon 50 k
Our month-long problem of paying by credit card begins this morning. In this case, as in most cases, the proprietor simply doesn't know how to work the machine. We have another short day cycling over land as flat as a lumpy pancake. The postcard-pretty Provençal scenery is marred by the high-rise concrete housing blocks, a prison encased in barbed-wire and extensive industrial estates that characterise the outskirts of Arles. However, the land of pretty scenery returns when we arrive in Tarascon. Medieval views of the towers of Beaucaire form the backdrop for the wide and grassy banks of the Rhone where the largest fair in Europe used to be held.
Boulbon is a tiny, friendly village with ruins of a castle and tower on a rocky outcrop.
Barbentane is surprisingly calm and green just before the madness of Avignon's roadways. We visit the Palais des Papes for the first time in nearly 20 years. [PHOTO] The white stone piazza glows in the hot sun. Not surprising to those with modern taste is the failure of the massive cherubs and other rococo dressings to lure the Popes back to Avignon. We have a wonderful, friendly dinner at Le Vernet where it is warm enough to eat outside. An extra treat is the good quality British and American rock music being played as part of a "street party" for people of the neighbourhood organised by the restaurant owner.
CÉVENNES - CAUSSES - TARN GORGES
Days 11 - 16
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Day 11: Avignon - Uzès 61 k
The crash of thunder and heavy rain wakes us at 4am but by 10:30 it is clearing and we are able to start the day on a cooler note. This allows us to linger over breakfast where I have the odd experience of being the second most fluent non-native French speaker (G being the most fluent). The name of the hotel, d'Angleterre, has obviously given the wrong impression to the many British tourists who are struggling to make themselves understood.
Billowing clouds and cheery birds usher us out of Avignon and across the bridge [PHOTO] to Villeneuve-lès-Avignon and the D2 on the right bank of the Rhone to Aramon. The rain has brought out wonderful smells of earth and new growth. We cycle past insubstantial hillocks, barely standing, like sandcastles hit by ocean waves. We are along a geological fault-line running from Clermont-Ferrand to Nîmes, part of which was first used as a roadway by animals, then by humans following the animals, and now by us. Alongside this pre-human route (the Voie Regordane), a tall thin dolmen stands on the top of a rise with panoramic views. An altitude marker on the base provides the dolmen with a new purpose.
In comparison, the Pont du Gard is a youthful thousand years. Until the 3rd century it brought water to Nîmes and is still used as a bridge, at least by cyclists and walkers. Thousands of tourists come here each year (it is one of the top ten most visited sites in France) as is obvious by the size of the car parks, a gigantic café with enough tables for a thousand, toilets and cash machines. We had avoided it for years for fear of the traffic but by following web instructions to Remoulins, we avoided the red road: i.e. take the southern road (D981, right bank of the river) which eventually has a cycle path. The path also allows for free entry onto the site for cyclists and hikers. We were able to walk across the bridge with our bikes and fully appreciate this magnificent structure. The road on the other side is not too busy.
We cycle up and through stone villages on narrow winding roads baking in the hot sunshine. The tall towers and square fortress of Uzès form a fantastic view in the setting sun. Uzès, formerly a Protestant town with Catholic inhabitants, now Catholic with Protestants in the minority, still has two churches. In Blauzac, it was clear that the plain, small rectangular building with few windows and no decorations was the temple (the term used by the French for Protestant churches).
Uzès is a wonderful place to wander through. We are lead from one site to another by the tops of towers, the ducal palace roof and whatever arch or courtyard captures our interest. Strangely, it is the first time we have been in a hotel that forbids smoking. Dinner is delicious - a celery and dill mousse is followed by a cassoulet of duck and white beans. It is Saturday night and the streets are empty but the cathedral is full.
Day 12: Uzès - Le Pradinas 63 k
We are going further into this formerly wild and remote countryside populated by Protestants seeking refuge. Anduze, spread out along the River Gardon, is the official gateway to the Cévennes. Its fortresses and dykes were destroyed by government troops out to exterminate the Protestants. Only the bell tower (1320) remains from the destruction of the 16th century. Some of the roads built to get artillery into the Cévennes have been restored for tourist traffic, slightly busy today because it is a French holiday. It is hilly and green with mulberries (for silk production), vineyards and fruit trees rising up from the rolling fields.
Le Musée du Désert is an excellent museum in the house of one of the Protestant leaders. It is interesting to see inside the tall, narrow, nearly windowless house, like so many others we have been passing. Though the rooms are small and cramped, the wide and open views from the windows create a sense of space. The tiny village is a closely-packed mass of stone houses, cool as a cave on this hot day. It is clear from the tour that the reasons for the persecution were political rather than religious, even though the result was religious persecution. Children were sent to convents, men to the galleys and women to prison or exile. An excellent selection of paintings depicts these events. Also on view are Huguenot crosses and Bibles. One of the dioramas shows people wearing denim, i.e. cloth "de Nîmes" (from Nîmes).
Day 13: Le Pradinas - Florac 66 k
We spent a pleasant night in a former silk wormery ("magnanerie"), of which there are many examples in this region. [PHOTO] The owner, a stone mason, has done a beautiful job of reconstructing the buildings, and turning the factory into a hotel without losing its best features. Nice room, nice folks and good food but getting money out of the credit card takes as long as breakfast. G is now offering lessons in the use of bank machines.
The day which began cool becomes ever warmer as we climb up the Corniche des Cévennes. The fields are covered in flowers. Tall and narrow stone houses hug the hillsides. Light green chestnut trees form a striking contrast to the dark green pine forests. We have fantastic views across the Cévennes at the top of the Col de Saint Pierre [PHOTO] where we meet an incredibly energetic four-foot-tall old woman. She is describing the view - "like the edge of a tart" - to a Protestant nun, when she spots us with our bikes. She tells us quite a lot about the area where she has been a doctor for 40 years. Before that, she was in Zambia where she must have made a deep impression.
We have five cols to cross today. The first is a gentle struggle followed by a much tougher 10%+ ascent until we reach Le Pompidou where the watershed provides superb level cycling with great views for miles and miles. The other cols are easy as we pass them quickly on the steep descent into the small and pretty town of Florac. We assume it must be a safe place when we find the hotel open with only a sign advertising the return of the receptionist in an hour. We read some papers and then go to a café where the proprietor disappears after serving us. In order to pay for drinks, a customer is forced to retrieve her from across the road.
Late afternoon rainstorms keep us in the hotel with walkers, Parisians and German motorcyclists. Stacking, rather than wrapping is still in fashion here and we have delicious pasta stuffed with fish mousse on a bed of spinach topped by cream sauce. Pigeon soup and cheese complete the dinner served by very happy waitresses.
Day 14: Florac - Meyrueis 68 k
Heavy cloud cover makes nearly everything (except the "Dangerous Road" sign) invisible. [PHOTO] It is a long steep 40 minute/500 metre climb out of Florac up to the Col de la Pierre Plate and our first dolmen (Stone Age burial chambers now exposed to the wind and rain). [PHOTO] At the top of the causse (high limestone plateau), we are rewarded with glorious views of nearby mountain tops covered in green. The open countryside reminds us of Moulin Moor near Pitlochry (Scotland). The rocky, scrubby land is punctuated by thick, emerald green pastures in shallow depressions. These sotchs are where decalcification of the rock has allowed enough earth to accumulate for the growth of pasture to support sheep and some cattle. Inside some of these shallow bowls are perfectly round circles marked by the growth of grass. These are probably former storage silos used by the Stone Age people who lived here - as also evidenced by the great number of megaliths.
The Causse Méjean is the wildest of the three causses we will visit. There are a few functioning farms in ugly prefabricated 1980s style farm buildings. More attractive are the ruins of former farms composed of a series of different sized long low stone buildings, arranged higgledy-piggledy in overgrown meadows. The 19th century geographer Reclus wrote about the "isthmus" that connects this island plateau to the Aigoual Massif and we go off in search of it on even quieter roads. Griffin vultures, recently reintroduced, wheel overhead. A dolmen, made from the dolomite and limestone of the causse, is big enough to climb into and offer some protection from the strong wind. We climb up to another col, also at 1000 metres, the highest point anywhere on this Causse.
While descending, we look across the fields to see a most amazing site. Horses, just like those in the drawings from the Lascaux cave, have come to life. Soon a board appears explaining that these are takhi, or Przewalski's horses (Equus ferus Przewalski) which are extinct in the wild. The farm here is breeding them for reintroduction to Mongolia. They are related to the horses drawn by Stone Age people.
We re-enter the modern world with a bang. The sudden appearance of people, shops and cars is an unpleasant shock. Once adjusted, we have a pleasant walk around Meyrueis to see the octoagonal 16th century Protestant church. The design, which provided excellent acoustics for the 3,000 member congregation, is quite unusual. A very large Catholic church, occupied by the Jesuits from the 17th century until the Revolution, is just around the corner. White robed penitents (looking like KKK recruits) still process through the streets at Easter.
Day 15: Meyrueis - La Canourgue 86 k
We begin with a climb up to yet another causse - this time it is a 300 metre ascent to the Causse Noir. The forest soon thins and is replaced by meadows sprinkled with large, prominent rock formations. There are more farms and houses than yesterday. It is windy and cold.
A long descent to the Gorges du Tarn is interrupted by a food stop in Peyreleau where I find an unusually delicious pizza and apple tart. The boulanger obviously loves to create her own recipes.
The road along the gorge is quiet, even though it is a 3-star attraction. There are lots of canoeist and rock climbers. Ropes and pulleys provide an aerial link between the thick tree cover. We have fantastic views (which car drivers would not have) of the river below, flowing rapidly over boulders and fallen trees. At points, the river recedes sufficiently to expose smooth sandy beaches. The cycling is easy and it is much warmer down here, out of the cold causse wind.
But soon we are climbing again, up to the Causse de Sauveterre. Another steep climb and I can see why there might have been little communication between the people living on these different causses! The gradient is painful but eventually we are at the top. As ever, we pass by a dolmen but this one has been Christianized, i.e. an iron cross has been inserted into the top of the rock. [PHOTO]
The Stone Age theme continues when we stop at a picnic site created out of megaliths in a grassy amphitheatre. Before passing through a village where a wolf ate a girl (in the 19th century), we take a detour to la Bastide for G's book research. [PHOTO] The former inn is no longer inhabited, but we are lucky to find someone there who shows us around. The 18th century story about the hostelry is of slightly less interest to our guide than the reason for our coming all the way here from Britain.
The Sabot de Malepeyre is a disappointment approached from la Piguière as it looks nothing like a clog (sabot)! It is a huge 40 foot high rock formation, with open sides created by the wind, perched on a sheer cliff. A great walk if you don't suffer from vertigo. The steep descent has fantastic views, including a backwards look at the rock which now looks just like a high-heel shoe for a giant.
La Canourgue feels like the back of beyond. Dinner is a rather noisy affair with a large group of workmen who are living in the hotel for a week to work on the roads. Fortunately they are French and the hotel is completely quiet when we return to sleep.
The main street of this town looks run-down and uninteresting but a wander along the side streets shows a completely different face. Streams from the Lot river course between and under the buildings. Low archways and stone staircases connect the houses which have colourful flower boxes (and a computer shop advertises its wares by hanging a keyboard outside its entrance like a Medieval shop-sign). Even the many-sided church has a moat around its base. A clock tower and wrought-iron belfry complete the attractive picture. We seem to be the only tourists.
Day 16: La Canourgue - Creissels (Millau) 80 k
We ascend again to the Causse de Sauveterre but thankfully it is fairly gentle. Then a hair-raising descent to La Malène on the Gorges du Tarn, a pretty, turreted village melded into the rock face. Not surprisingly, it is filled with tourists, coaches and camper vans. Most stay put and the 14-mile road along the gorge is very pleasant. There are a few short tunnels. The undulations are almost non-existent and rocky outcrops make for great scenery.
We return to the boulangerie in Peyreleau for some more special creations. She asks us about our trip and we get into conversation about house prices in the region. They are going sky high because sellers are waiting for a British person to buy, knowing they will get much more than a local person could (or would) pay. The airport at nearby Rodez has increased the number of foreign visitors. However, it means that old buildings are being converted to high standards and providing work. Though it is a tiny village it has a world-wide attraction. The Australians come to cycle and the Americans to climb rocks. The baker very generously wraps up some additional sweet treats for us with the excuse that she wouldn't be able to sell them before she closes for lunch.
Just as well, since we eat everything in sight after climbing up steeply to the Causse Noir. [PHOTO] It is so difficult I even stop to cry part way up! The thought of seeing the Chaos of Montpellier-le-Vieux (a pile of rocks in unusual shapes like those found in Utah but much smaller) doesn't seem a sufficient reward. We finally make it to the Auberge at the top where the couple used to feed anyone who turned up. There is still a restaurant but they now charge.
We cycle through forests on a poorly graded and badly maintained road until we descend abruptly (typical of the causses) to the valley containing Norman Foster's new viaduct and the town of Millau. Unexpected are views of a 19th-century viaduct in a nearby valley.
Millau is full of cars, going from one parking lot to another, rude and oblivious. Badly behaved teenagers complete the scene and we are glad to be heading out to the suburb of Creissels for the night. Our hotel (very reasonably priced) is an 8th century chateau rebuilt in the 19th century. The bikes spend the night in 8th century cellars while we eat dinner in the 12th century guards' room and breakfast in the former reception rooms. Beer on a 19th century patio outside our room allows us to observe our fellow guests (generally older and richer), coming and going. A fantastic dinner helps us celebrate the last of the causses.
AVEYRON & ROUSSILLON
Days 17 - 23
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Day 17: Creissels (Millau) - Broquiès 104 k
G's research requires us to return to Millau to hunt down a hostel for apprentices on their "tour de France". It takes some time and we are able to confirm our dislike for this town. Just a few metres from the edge of town, the D41 is completely deserted and we pass under the Norman Foster Millau viaduct (cycles are not allowed on it) where we are able to admire the massive, smooth concrete piles. [PHOTO] Our continued ride along the River Tarn is less spectacular but red sandstone caves and a waterfall provide a pleasant distraction, as does the prettiest village of Peyre.
The causse might be behind us but we still have to climb. Just crossing the Tarn requires some steep ascending and descending. Apart from the postwoman and two touring cyclists, we see no one. The green countryside and slow flowing river appear cool in the distance on a very hot climb up to three view points on the Plateau de Lévézou. The twists and turns provide sun and then shade as we switch-back repeatedly. We pass through Villefranche and a lakeside resort before re-entering this largely depopulated farming country. G cycles ever higher to visit a farmhouse where a map maker stayed and then clambers up to a triangulation point (the Pyramide de Lagast). [PHOTO]
Our hotel, a mile from the tiny village of Broquiès, is near the river. It is an old-style farm house, on three sides with an interior courtyard for farm equipment and animals. The hotel hasn't been "done-up" so it is no surprise, really that our room is freezing cold, the heater doesn't work and neither does the hot water or the room key. The latter doesn't matter as we are the only guests. No one seems to have stayed here for months and the bed linen is damp. But there are no options in this empty region and at least the owners are kind. The mother, who is now in a wheel-chair from a debilitating disease, was obviously the one who made sure the rooms were maintained properly. The father cooks and the 14-year-old daughter acts as waitress. The patio furniture is now covered in grime but the dining room tables are set for a hundred grand dinners. Eventually, two other couples come for dinner. The daughter is very grown-up and has been taught how to serve food, open wine, etc, even though it is probably not usual to tell someone that "Papa recommends x for tonight…" The meal is delicious, made from local produce and the servings are generous, served "family style" in big serving bowls left on our table.
Day 18: Broquiès - Saint-Sernin-sur-Rance 84 k
G has a long conversation with the owners about the local schools (12 miles away), other visitors to this hotel (botanists looking for rare orchids) and English versus Scottish tourists. We have to climb back up a steep 1.25 miles to the village so we can buy provisions for the day since shops are rare in this part of France. The choice is rather limited so our meals will be filling but odd.
A pretty descent on another sunny day provides wonderful views of the river valley and surrounding hillsides. We are continuing a hunt for map-maker sites, which means lots of climbing up horrid gradients, to get to high places with stupendous views. A church and graveyard we need to visit are supposed to be "on the other side and just above the tunnel" according to a book. We never make it through the tunnel, which is half a kilometre in length and in complete and utter darkness. There is a special bike button you can press but it just warns cars that there are cyclists stumbling about, falling into giant potholes, or standing still in sheer terror. After two attempts we give up, shaking but grateful to return to a road basking in sunshine. Our only choice is to climb a long, steep hill. (The mapmaker's home was called Le Puech Cani: "steep hill".) Just as well, since this was the only way to the church and graveyard. The previous researcher had obviously not visited the site - never trust secondary sources! On our way up we pass two women who can barely speak French as they usually have no need to speak anything other than their local dialect.
Brousse-le-Château is a "prettiest village" with a Logis de France hotel but not over-run with tourists. The interesting ruins, narrow stone streets and attractive houses in the vibrant local red sandstone, would have made this a nice place to stay. There aren't many people about but there are plenty of useful signs about the region. For example, the numerous bridges and tunnels we have been passing (or trying to use) were built for a railway but no rails were ever laid due to the introduction of a bus service. Another sign explains how the land is used, i.e. the north-facing hillside has pasture at the top, followed by land for grazing sheep, then chestnut woods ending with a mill by the river. The south side begins with the village next to the river, followed by vegetable plots, vineyards and then cereals on the top.
With good information, the continual climbs and descents are now less tedious! Unfortunately, no sign warns of adders. While contemplating a "nature break" near a ravine on the way up to the Col du Capelou I hear rustling in the grass but assume it is one of the numerous lizards we pass daily. Instead, the diamond head of an asp suddenly appears, hissing. I note the mint green and white pattern before quickly stepping back.
St-Sever-du-Moustier has an attractive church from 1517 and a former monastery which is now an old people's home. It also has one of the rare food shops in this region, though lacking in choice.
The Menhir museum at St Crépin was created by a few locals. You "serve yourself", turning on and off lights and closing the door when you leave. It contains a small but interesting collection of menhirs carved with male and female figures. Most are over 2000 years old. All of them display decorative belts and deeply etched fingers and toes but only some have eyes. Worth a visit - and a donation.
Investigating the story of a pitched battle between two villages over the positioning of a statue of the Virgin at Roquecezière offers an opportunity to visit two rather unattractive hamlets! However, the 8-mile descent to Saint-Sernin-sur-Rance is enjoyable and the hotel is certainly well equipped for guests. It is fully booked with coach parties and family reunions, fans of crazy golf, tennis and swimming. We enjoy our private terrace and the abundance of hot water. The meal, however, is much inferior to that in Broquiès.
Day 19: Saint-Sernin-sur-Rance - Lamalou-les-Bains 91 k
Ten cols, beginning with an 800-metre climb, make this another hard day. The gradients are not kind and I have to walk at several points, in particular the ascent to the Roc de Montalet. Three kilometres sounds so easy - but not when the gradient is 17-24%. It isn't helped by the unattractive countryside and ugly hamlets, such as the laughingly inaccurate Berverly Hills Avenue. The top is deserted (except for a family in a horse-drawn caravan and a British photographer). While G climbs up to a triangulation point, I walk amongst rare orchids and shrubs which are oddly signposted with narration provided by rocks and vegetation describing themselves.
The descent is of a similar gradient but with the road surface in worse condition (turns out it is a "route barrée" but is signposted only in one direction). At one of the "S" shaped bends, with my bike coming to a near stand-still to negotiate the turn, I look over to see a farmer mounting a tractor. We are eye-to-eye when I call out "bonjour". He replies similarly as though it was the most normal thing to be greeted on this isolated road by a woman on a red bicycle. Of course, G passed him a few minutes earlier while he was taking a nature break. Obviously, he is a relaxed sort of guy. Not sure about his mother who stands sternly by the front door.
The landscape changes for the better when we reach l'Espinouse at 1100 metres.
The descent immediately plunges us back to the Mediterranean side of the Cévennes. The landscape is more dramatic and we are reintroduced to the smells of Provençal herbs. The villages are prettier. I have learned the valuable lesson that yellow roads have better gradients than white roads, in this region in particular.
Lamalou-les-Bains not only has a wonderfully euphonic name but is also a spa town, my favourite sort of place for faded elegance and a wide choice of grand hotels at low cost. We have a great view from our 3rd story window, a nice meal and stories of today's bike race from our waiter. I bet we did more climbing…
Day 20: Lamalou-les-Bains - Fabrezan 86 k
We begin on a narrow busy road (D908) but then turn off onto a yellow road (D14) and then a white road (D177). Unlike previous days, the gradients are not bad and the views are wonderful. Blue-grey mountains hover on the horizon as we twist and turn through picturesque villages, set into the hillsides, freshly painted and well-maintained. There is more wealth on this side of the Cévennes and to judge by the fields, the money-making product is based on grapes. St Chinian and Minervois wineries invite visitors to sample their wares. We delight in the incredibly smooth tarmac, as well as the shades of orange, red and pink rock from a former seabed, exposed when the road was blasted through.
We lunch beside the Canal du Midi having cycled 40 miles - a change from previous days when we were lucky to have done as much by 4pm. But pride in this accomplishment is quickly followed by a very hard final 5 miles. The wind sends us hurtling in one direction while we are trying to go in another. The fast, tightly packed traffic on the D212 (diverted temporarily from a bigger road) leaves no room for error.
A hacienda style hotel in Fabrezan doesn't provide much privacy but it does give us much-needed shade. Across the road, an old road sign gives the speed limit as 12 kph. [PHOTO] We pass avenues of plane trees on our way to the tiny Hôtel de Ville where the Mayor gives us a key to the small and entertaining Charles Cros museum.
Day 21: Fabrezan - Perpignan 84 k
Two British businessmen are negotiating a big property deal over breakfast. Once the property has been rebuilt, they will sell it on to British folks wanting a "place in the sun with swimming pool". A considerable profit appears to be on offer. We concentrate on eating enough food to get us over five cols.
All are pleasantly easy gradients, excepting the climb to Rouire, the highest point of the day at 304 metres. Low hills, flowering lavender, vineyards and a few rogue olive trees provide pleasant views. We pass a man working in his vegetable garden wearing a hat of vine leaves and looking like Bacchus. We consider this trick as the day gets hotter and all shade disappears in the scrubby landscape. At Villesèque, a road sign is being eaten by a plane tree. [PHOTO] There are a few cyclists, including a group of men in full kit on good bikes who start their ride at the top of a col. Hmm.
We gasp in awe as we round the top of the Col de la Mandourelle and see the snow-capped mountains of the Pyrenees. The Canigou fills the sky and we can feel the ice cold wind from the snow capped top of this hulking mass. Fantastic. Majestic white wind turbines, appearing like a long line of dancers dancing pirouettes, run along the top of the ride (Col de la Peira Dreita). The deep blue Mediterranean can be seen in the near distance.
Opoul has a shady school playground where we attempt to eat some food. We are hungry but the heat has robbed us of our appetite. Children can be heard playing in the nearby swimming pool. Surprisingly, a mother leaves her young daughter in the otherwise empty playground with us, two strangers looking rather worse for wear. The 6 year old asks us why we are there and when we tell her it is to see her pretty countryside she seems slightly surprised. She concludes the conversation by telling us she has a small bike with two wheels.
We are now in the plain, formerly a desert, irrigated in parts but baking hot everywhere. A rock and sand quarry billowing clouds of dust covers us in grit. Big, open-topped trucks trundling rocks to and fro are the only other objects on the road. We pass a "zone militaire" full of roofless barracks with walls covered in bullet holes. It appears to be a practice ground but is actually the remains of a huge concentration camp from WWII which held Jews and Gypsies who had fled to France for safety, only to find themselves held here for shipment to death. There is a low memorial along this empty road but no other sign of explanation or regret.
The promised cycle path is finally found in Bompas. The surface is good but, as usual, there is no signposting so you don't know where you are going nor how far it will be. We follow it until it ends abruptly on the edge of a roundabout which leaves no option for a safe route. Bad and dopey drivers don't help matters. By running and gesticulating, we manage to get across and onto quieter streets where we find one of the many inexpensive hotels in Perpignan.
Day 22: Perpignan
Photos of demonstrations in Perpignan fill the front pages of newspapers. A French-Algerian teenager has been murdered by the Gitanes (gypsies). The rioting overnight left some signs of damage to signposts and shop windows. The town is suddenly over-run with journalists from Paris.
This is a contrast to the extraordinary friendliness of people in the hotels, restaurants and cafés we frequent. The only negative encounter is in the Perpignan office de tourisme where the young woman not only arrives late (it opens at 11am) but manages to dispatch those waiting in the queue by saying "no, I don't know"! She tells G she "doesn't have a clue" and isn't interested in what he can tell her about the city's cycle paths. I reckon she must be a relation of some big political boss as she certainly isn't there to provide tourist information.
We move to the Hôtel de France as it has better provision for the bikes which are being left for a week while we return to the UK to sort out this and that. Our room is spacious with great views from the balcony. [PHOTO] We can look down to see the canal, running through the centre of town, its banks planted in grass and attractive flowers. Next door is Le Castillet, a giant tower in red brick (1368) which survived the demolition of the ramparts. Inside is an interesting museum about local life with dioramas, examples of clothing and daily implements. As in the tourist office, there is a lack of information and we leave none the wiser about some of the fascinating objects. There are many floors and eventually one emerges onto a platform at the top of the tower with views of the countryside, the snowy heights of the Canigou and the Mediterranean Sea.
We find we are shattered and have to take frequent naps - heat exhaustion from yesterday's cycling in a desert with not enough water - or perhaps it is from all the climbing we have done - or the anticipation of a week-long rest? Fortunately, we have sufficient energy for another delicious dinner.
Day 23: Perpignan - U.K.
It is another hot morning so we decide to visit the much cooler cathedral. It contains a most amazing sarcophagus of an arch-bishop, carved in marble, but appearing to be made from melting wax. Very eerie. A long and dark side chapel, lighted only by candles, has walls covered in large pebbles and is closest in style to the original 11th century interior. Also worth seeing is the very moving life-sized wooden carving of Mary holding her dead son (15th c?).
The bus to the airport comes and goes before anyone can board it, so we take a taxi which only costs 2 Euros more. The flight is unpleasant and poorly organised. Food and drink can only be purchased. The plane is filled with folks from the Midlands with property in France or families now living in France.
It has been sunny and warm in the UK as well and the garden has gone mad. We rest.
20 days cycling, 4 days travelling
35 cols
838 miles / 1341 kilometres
Most climbing on the 22nd = 1642 metres
Least climbing on the 14th = 409 metres
Average gradient was 5-6%
Coldest day = 17th with 69.8F max
Hottest day = 14th with 100.4F max
Wind was from the north, 15 days, from the south, 5 days
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