After an incredibly windy night (in which I discovered that the wind not only blows right through the tent but also right through the sleeping bag too), we awoke to a morning of heavy driving rain, sporadically thankfully, and a wind that could turn a smart car over. Packing up with fair speed (watched at points by amazed and shocked locals walking by) we sidled out of town and made our way onto the road that would take us south to Tours. The wind was blowing hard into our right flanks (coming slightly from the front as well, to make the going not just dangerous but slow too). We were low in the valley though and on our left a wood kept us relatively still as we climbed out onto the hills between the Loir and Loire river valleys. Danny, as usual, raced ahead on his bike stopping at the crest of the hill where the wood stopped also.
Catching up to him he turned round and grinned, "It's a bit blowy." This is what is known as an understatement. In all honesty I should have instantly said we should turn back; the wind was non-stop and of a kind that must have been gale force at least. Danny suggested, with his usual nonchalance, that we walk on (you couldn't even get on the bicycle) and I foolishly assented. We pushed, at a pace not exceeding 2 mph, our bikes along the grassy verge has the wind whipped our faces and the rain came down so hard it hurt. I pray thanks to human ingenuity that only that morning, after the day of rain yesterday, I had discovered upon the brilliant idea of wrapping my socks bin liners before putting them into my soaking wet shoes - my feet stayed comparatively dry. After what felt like hours of walking through this hellish weather, but we had only travelled little over 200 metres, I made the suggestion that we turn back to the woods and shelter there. The going back was easier and we reached the woods in no time, where we sat and ate some bread, ham and cheese we had left over from the day before. After about 20 mins we noticed that the sky to the north was clearing so we cycled back into to town to wait out the storm in the comfort of a cafe.
When we reached town, the sky overhead was sunny and cloudless, and soon we were warming ourselves in the sun whilst we munched on custard pastries hastily bought from the local bakery before it shut. Final, at about half one we attempted the same journey south, and though still windy managed to make it largely unscathed and decidedly dryer into Tours. I can't really remember much of the trip there, as we both rode on auto-pilot.
Still wet, we finally made it across the Loire and into the centre ville of Tours, where we found the Tourist Information and inquired about accomadation. A slight note on the tourist information in Tours - lots of pretty french women work there, and we were much pleased. Danny insisted on a hotel, to allow him to dry off and actually have a matress under him, rather than a simple groundsheet. I assented, my tent was soaking and I really wanted to get it dry. So we were offered the hotel Regina and made our reservations.
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Day 8 - Out of Le Man and into a storm
We cycled out of Le Mans on the Sunday, but not before stopping at a very nice supermarche that had deigned to be open on the sunday morning (thank god). Picked up lots of tasty treats, and I also picked up a roll of bin-liners because I was worried about my sleeping bag and tent bag getting too wet in the rain. They work a treat.
We imagined that cycling out of Le Mans would be quite easy, but oh no, it is very easy to get lost in a city when you are on a bicycle. Coming into a city is very easy as all you need to do is follow the signs to the centre ville or tourist information place and you are there. Cycling out, however, seems to be far more difficult. Especially if you want to stay out of the way of the main red roads. We exited the centre ville quite easily, but soon found ourselves on a big nasty ring-road, but little sense of where the hell we where. We followed it round, but got caught up in busy junctions and instead followed a parallel cycle-path. This turned out to be not so parallel and we got a bit lost again. Finally we found a bus stop with a map and tried to make sense of where we were and where we wanted to be. We then got lost a bit more, found the road we wanted, then discovered it was the wrong road and then finally cycled back into Le Mans a bit to get the right road and then ... we were out. All in all, it took about 2 hours. Not a good use of our time.
The weather was very wierd, and we were struck with heavy rain, followed by the most beautiful weather we had had yet. Then the rain would strike again, and so on and so forth. Danny was map reading this time and took a wrong left turn down a tiny c-road that eventually wound up in this most amazing forest. Long straight roads sheltered on each side by long straight trees sparcely spaced with very little undergrowth. We found a map and also found a few campsites nearby so, Danny in lead, we attempted to find our way out of the forest. It was a beautiful day at this point, no rain, and the cycling was fantastic. At one point, in the distance, we saw what could only be described as a wall of road rising into the sky, or so it looked like. Actually it was a huge dip, almost like an enlarged skate-board half-pipe in the road. The way down was so fast, but I was not able to cycle up the opposite side as it was far too steep. Danny, strong-legged man that he is, managed with barely so much as a grimace.
The first town we came to was completely lacking in campsites, but we found another map of the Loir region and took down the names of a few places that had campsites nearby. The first place was shut, but we were still greeted by a black-lion of a dog, a huge beast.
Apparently dogs get riled by the sound the spoke makes (we cannot hear it because we don't noises at such a high pitch) - we've met lots of crazy dogs on this trip. A lot.
At the second place, La Chatre sur Loir, Danny ventured into an open bar to ask for some matches and managed to discover that the campsite was in fact shut. As we set off to see it with our own eyes, the bolt snapped clean off that was holding my rear carrier and rear mudguard over my rear wheel. With no chance of any more cycling for me we decided that our best bet was to settle down outside the closed campsite, which was away from the main road, and sleep it on the cheap for the night. All the water we saved was used to make a damn fine chilli con carne and rice, and after setting up my tent in the near dark we settled down for a cold, rainy, and very windy night. A storm was coming.
We imagined that cycling out of Le Mans would be quite easy, but oh no, it is very easy to get lost in a city when you are on a bicycle. Coming into a city is very easy as all you need to do is follow the signs to the centre ville or tourist information place and you are there. Cycling out, however, seems to be far more difficult. Especially if you want to stay out of the way of the main red roads. We exited the centre ville quite easily, but soon found ourselves on a big nasty ring-road, but little sense of where the hell we where. We followed it round, but got caught up in busy junctions and instead followed a parallel cycle-path. This turned out to be not so parallel and we got a bit lost again. Finally we found a bus stop with a map and tried to make sense of where we were and where we wanted to be. We then got lost a bit more, found the road we wanted, then discovered it was the wrong road and then finally cycled back into Le Mans a bit to get the right road and then ... we were out. All in all, it took about 2 hours. Not a good use of our time.
The weather was very wierd, and we were struck with heavy rain, followed by the most beautiful weather we had had yet. Then the rain would strike again, and so on and so forth. Danny was map reading this time and took a wrong left turn down a tiny c-road that eventually wound up in this most amazing forest. Long straight roads sheltered on each side by long straight trees sparcely spaced with very little undergrowth. We found a map and also found a few campsites nearby so, Danny in lead, we attempted to find our way out of the forest. It was a beautiful day at this point, no rain, and the cycling was fantastic. At one point, in the distance, we saw what could only be described as a wall of road rising into the sky, or so it looked like. Actually it was a huge dip, almost like an enlarged skate-board half-pipe in the road. The way down was so fast, but I was not able to cycle up the opposite side as it was far too steep. Danny, strong-legged man that he is, managed with barely so much as a grimace.
The first town we came to was completely lacking in campsites, but we found another map of the Loir region and took down the names of a few places that had campsites nearby. The first place was shut, but we were still greeted by a black-lion of a dog, a huge beast.
Apparently dogs get riled by the sound the spoke makes (we cannot hear it because we don't noises at such a high pitch) - we've met lots of crazy dogs on this trip. A lot.
At the second place, La Chatre sur Loir, Danny ventured into an open bar to ask for some matches and managed to discover that the campsite was in fact shut. As we set off to see it with our own eyes, the bolt snapped clean off that was holding my rear carrier and rear mudguard over my rear wheel. With no chance of any more cycling for me we decided that our best bet was to settle down outside the closed campsite, which was away from the main road, and sleep it on the cheap for the night. All the water we saved was used to make a damn fine chilli con carne and rice, and after setting up my tent in the near dark we settled down for a cold, rainy, and very windy night. A storm was coming.
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