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.
Monday, 10 March 2008
Days 6, 7 - Longny-au-Perche to Le Mans
Friday started out well. We woke late, because its cold, and packed up fairly sharpish. I picked up some lunch in the boulangerie (the brownie once again found its way into my pack), and breakfasted on p-a-c (pain au chocolat). Cycled out and enjoyed some hilly, desolate, but quiet roads before we joined the main d-roads south toward Loungy-au-perche and our campsite destination. Stopped for some food in a chanpion supermarche in Damville. The odd thing about french supermarches is that we don't know which ones are posh and which ones aren't - which ones an asda and which ones a Waitrose. Cycled toward Venieule-sur-avre and then went off into the french wilderness (the white roads on the michelin maps) to get to Longny-au-perche as quick as possible.
The sky was dim at this point, but it had looked like that all day so we hoped for no rain. However the faint patters bagan just as I punctured my tyre on a big fat rock in the middle of the road. To be fair my back tyre (for it was my back tyre that burst) was a little low on the pressure, which may have contributed to the big hiss of air I heard, but I think it was mostly bad luck. As we hastily tore my bags from the bicycle's frame (my bags are all neatly attached to the back carrier) the rain started falling in buckets and I cursed all the dangerous debris on all the roads in France. We eventually got the spanner on and the wheel off and I tore off the tyre to get at the inner-tube. My hands were freezing and it took a while to get the new inner tube out of the box and onto the wheel. Then I just got pissed off and Danny took over, while I took to waterproofing my panniers (those yellow over-protectors are awesome, dad.)
Finally we got back on the bikes, and continued on our way through the freezing cold rain and I wih no over-shoes so before long it felt like I was cycling in a swamp - my feet were soaked. It was not a good day. Finally we made it to Longny-au-perche, a which point it stopped raining, and we finally found our way to the campsite; both of us tired, frustrated and not in good moods. I say campsite ... Monaco Parc (for that is its name) is actually a huge town made of caravans and mobile homes - there are even street names there! We were led down to the pitch where we were to set up our tents, which was nothing more than a grass verge next to a gravel road - this is a campsite not recommended for the camper. Everything was damp so I went to the shower block, which reminded me of a toilet in an airport but smelt like a chemical toilet, and sat in there to wait for all my clothes to dry. The showerblock was quite unique as the mens urinals was directly opposite the unisex basins (which is odd) and there was a vending machine that dispensed cans of heineken (which is slightly cool). There were also hairdryers on the wall, which I used to great effect the next day to dry my shoes out. While I was inhabiting the showerblock, like Tom Hanks in that film where he lives in an airport, Danny, brave man that he is, was cooking the most awesome beef curry I have ever tasted. We supped on that in the dark and the damp and prayed for a rain free morning.
The next day was still damp as it had rained throughout the night, and once again we both had had little sleep. We woke late in order to have a dry start and packed our gear up with more finesse than we had done in recent days - practice was certainly making perfect. We were only down the road, my hands freezing in the cold air and wet gloves, when suddenly Danny's back tyre burst and bad. A big bit of glass tore through the rubber and punctured his inner tube. He expertly took it off and brought out a handy spare (one of two), which he then broke by pumping to hard; the valve tore right off. So two tyres down, he did a bit of shifting and finally got both wheels working again, and once more we tore off in the direction of Le Mans. Tired, cold and miserable, though with the prospect of a youth hostel and a proper bed stopping us from spiralling into a malaise, we lunched in Belleme, where we were inspected by the locals and even had a small chat with the local rocker with his deliberately french hair-cut (crop top, with a slight mullet).
I was getting tired by this point, and the weather had not improved my mood. My feet were wet and my whole body was cold, so I cannot imagine I was good company. Finally, at about 6pm we made it into Le Mans, but without knowing where the Youth Hostel was, we had to wait until Danny's Mum could text us the address, for it was she who had booked us the rooms. Finally we found our way there, and poured, bags and all into the lobby. The woman in reception was a very nice, old dear who had only a little better understanding of english as we do of french, so it took a little time to confirm our reservation. But finally we were able to make our way upstairs and to our rooms.
With a warm room and warm, if somewhat creaky, beds, our next concern was food. On the way in Danny had espied a Pizza restaurant, so we went in there and I ordered the most expansive pizza on the menu (in the strong belief that expense means lots of stuff). Moderately filled, we found an internet cafe and set down for a little bit of internetting.
If you plan on going to Le Man and need a cheap place to stay I heartily recommend the Youth Hostel we stayed in, it was 10.40 per night per person, for your own single room. It was called La Fleure, or something like that. Very nice.
On Sunday we were to begin our trek to Tours, which we wanted to do in a day, but what with getting lost in Le Mans and then again just north of the Loir River, the chances were slim.
I was getting tired by this point, and the weather had not improved my mood. My feet were wet and my whole body was cold, so I cannot imagine I was good company. Finally, at about 6pm we made it into Le Mans, but without knowing where the Youth Hostel was, we had to wait until Danny's Mum could text us the address, for it was she who had booked us the rooms. Finally we found our way there, and poured, bags and all into the lobby. The woman in reception was a very nice, old dear who had only a little better understanding of english as we do of french, so it took a little time to confirm our reservation. But finally we were able to make our way upstairs and to our rooms.
With a warm room and warm, if somewhat creaky, beds, our next concern was food. On the way in Danny had espied a Pizza restaurant, so we went in there and I ordered the most expansive pizza on the menu (in the strong belief that expense means lots of stuff). Moderately filled, we found an internet cafe and set down for a little bit of internetting.
If you plan on going to Le Man and need a cheap place to stay I heartily recommend the Youth Hostel we stayed in, it was 10.40 per night per person, for your own single room. It was called La Fleure, or something like that. Very nice.
On Sunday we were to begin our trek to Tours, which we wanted to do in a day, but what with getting lost in Le Mans and then again just north of the Loir River, the chances were slim.
Saturday, 8 March 2008
Days 3, 4, 5 - Rouen to Everaux
The next day, wednesday, we finally made it out of Rouen (not before bothering the tourist information office again, and finding a cybercafe) and decided upon the beautiful and tourist-y route through the industrial heartland of the Rouen region. The road was incredibly bumpy, and I fear I have done some lasting damage to the frame. We thought we got lost, but finally Danny found our turning and we continued on. Finally we did lose our way, but after some quick map-checking and a bit of luck found this beautiful pass over the hills, perfect for cycling. Other cyclists had the same idea, and there were many groups of cyclists all practicing their racing. We, with our heavy bags, raced past them on the hill down at speeds that I dare not even contemplate (also my little cycling computer was playing up so there was no way to tell, certainly 30mph would not be an overestimate). Danny got some good pictures of us cycling that bit, but I was enjoying myself too much to care!
I had given my map-reading responsibilities over to Danny for the while as he had just brought a new handlebar bag (though he insists on calling it a front pannier, which is most confusing). I was trying not to interfere, but I think I was being a bit of a backseat map-reader (which would make more sense on a tandem). We arrived in Louvier, where our next campsite was to be found, a little bit the worse for wear, but I soon became quite dismayed by the huge bloody hill between us and the campsite. Damn you, geography. However, the campsite, Bel Air, was very nice, and allowed me to instate myself as Prince.
It is my opinion now, that a quick check of the shower-block in a campsite can tell you much about it. The Gov Campsite in Rouen, was simple yet effective. The one in Bel Air, was kinda wierd. The French have an odd take on urinals for a start, the epitome of which (I hope) was achieved in the campsite called Monaco Parc, where the urinals were opposite, with no barrier, the unisex basins. In the Bel Air shower block, the urinals were through a little set of western salon doors, while opposite it was what can only be described as a toilet/bidai, because I don't think campsites offer torture devices as standard. The final oddity was that the washing machines and tumble-dryers were located in the womens shower rooms, as opposed to the mens shower rooms, which were appliance free.
Leaving Bel Air the next day (late as usual) we cycled over desolate hill-top after desolate hill-top, which was all very dull. Finally we got to a place called Bonnieville, where our next campsite was to be found. Before we went we popped into the local boulangerie and boucherie to get supplies (a lovely chicken bolognese with wine for dinner), and I found the best brownies on God's green, if rather wet, earth. The campsite, however was a big disappointment, although to be far it is only the start of the season. It was very cheap though, and the owners were nice. I'm starting to think, however, that the French see tents as an afterthought when it comes to camping. Again the Monaco Parc place was literally a mobile town of mobile homes, whereas we found our tents pitched on what can only be described as a swamp (thankyou rain!).
Anyway, we were going to sleep - and I say sleep only because a stream of awakened consciousness intermittently, but unconsciously broken by small sleeps, such that it feels like you've been awake all night - in this cheap but nasty campsite on thursday night. The next day was were all the trouble began - and monaco parc!
I had given my map-reading responsibilities over to Danny for the while as he had just brought a new handlebar bag (though he insists on calling it a front pannier, which is most confusing). I was trying not to interfere, but I think I was being a bit of a backseat map-reader (which would make more sense on a tandem). We arrived in Louvier, where our next campsite was to be found, a little bit the worse for wear, but I soon became quite dismayed by the huge bloody hill between us and the campsite. Damn you, geography. However, the campsite, Bel Air, was very nice, and allowed me to instate myself as Prince.
It is my opinion now, that a quick check of the shower-block in a campsite can tell you much about it. The Gov Campsite in Rouen, was simple yet effective. The one in Bel Air, was kinda wierd. The French have an odd take on urinals for a start, the epitome of which (I hope) was achieved in the campsite called Monaco Parc, where the urinals were opposite, with no barrier, the unisex basins. In the Bel Air shower block, the urinals were through a little set of western salon doors, while opposite it was what can only be described as a toilet/bidai, because I don't think campsites offer torture devices as standard. The final oddity was that the washing machines and tumble-dryers were located in the womens shower rooms, as opposed to the mens shower rooms, which were appliance free.
Leaving Bel Air the next day (late as usual) we cycled over desolate hill-top after desolate hill-top, which was all very dull. Finally we got to a place called Bonnieville, where our next campsite was to be found. Before we went we popped into the local boulangerie and boucherie to get supplies (a lovely chicken bolognese with wine for dinner), and I found the best brownies on God's green, if rather wet, earth. The campsite, however was a big disappointment, although to be far it is only the start of the season. It was very cheap though, and the owners were nice. I'm starting to think, however, that the French see tents as an afterthought when it comes to camping. Again the Monaco Parc place was literally a mobile town of mobile homes, whereas we found our tents pitched on what can only be described as a swamp (thankyou rain!).
Anyway, we were going to sleep - and I say sleep only because a stream of awakened consciousness intermittently, but unconsciously broken by small sleeps, such that it feels like you've been awake all night - in this cheap but nasty campsite on thursday night. The next day was were all the trouble began - and monaco parc!
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
Day 2 & 3: From Dieppe to Rouen and Rouen again.
This trip is going to be so different from how I imagined it. There is very little time for oneself, as it gets dark so early, and there is so little light in which to cycle. Its already half 12 and we haven't got started on our next leg of the trip yet. I don't know when I'll have time to do a proper entry - hopefully orleans and tours willl offer another cyber cafe. I've seen so much already, yet we've only been gone for 3 days. I would love to get some pictures up, but computer says "no!" (sorry).
The trip out of Dieppe was amazing. Pitch black, except for what dannys light could show us. We cycled round and up this huge cliff on the western side, through the old town. the wind was so fierce, it made us sway from side to side quite dangerously. I know that the road wasn't that close, but it felt like the cliff edge was only inches away as we sped down in the dark, these terrifyingly sharp corners in the dark. If we hadn't had danny's front led light we would have had to stop for sure or risk falling off the edge of the france.
It felt like we made good time and though my map reading skills lacked somewhat, we seemed to be on the right path as the light poured in over the horizon. I thought there would be a difference in traffic, but largely the roads were clear the entire route (yellow d roads rock!). There were lots of ups and downs, which eventually started to make me very weary. I don't think I've ever wanted bed so much as I did then. We finally made it to Yvetot, where we hoped to find infomation about a campsite nearby. Unfortunately it seemed to be a bank holiday and it was shut. We had lunch in a small cafe, and I must say that the croque madame is an absolutely genius invention.
Off again, and we made it into a beautiful little town called Pavilly, just north of of Rouen, where we stopped off to get some bread. Up and over a few more hills and I was starting to curse the contents on my bike and danny as well, who seemed to pull out some much needed power on the last rise. Finally, racing down a hill we arrived at the outskirts of Rouen and tried to find the campsite that offered me bed and so much sleep.
We finally found the campsite, and after setting up the tents I lay down and fell into a deep sleep for an hour while danny went to the shops. It started to rain when he got back and woke me up, so we cooked in the tent (badly) by the light of my wind-up mp3 player.
It rained all night, not to mention was bitingly cold. My sleeping bag is meant to be three-season, but I definately should have got a warmer one. I actually thouoght my tent was leaking because my feet were so cold, my mind confused it with a feeling of wetness. I woke the next day to a horror of horrors, the tent had dyed everything the same colour as it - red! Never fear however, for it was just the light coming through the inner-sheet, but the illusion was quite astounding. The plan had been to leave that morning, but it would not stop raining and even hailing until early afternoon, so we decided to stay that night as well and spent the rest of the day in rouen, which is where I lost Danny.
More soon.
The trip out of Dieppe was amazing. Pitch black, except for what dannys light could show us. We cycled round and up this huge cliff on the western side, through the old town. the wind was so fierce, it made us sway from side to side quite dangerously. I know that the road wasn't that close, but it felt like the cliff edge was only inches away as we sped down in the dark, these terrifyingly sharp corners in the dark. If we hadn't had danny's front led light we would have had to stop for sure or risk falling off the edge of the france.
It felt like we made good time and though my map reading skills lacked somewhat, we seemed to be on the right path as the light poured in over the horizon. I thought there would be a difference in traffic, but largely the roads were clear the entire route (yellow d roads rock!). There were lots of ups and downs, which eventually started to make me very weary. I don't think I've ever wanted bed so much as I did then. We finally made it to Yvetot, where we hoped to find infomation about a campsite nearby. Unfortunately it seemed to be a bank holiday and it was shut. We had lunch in a small cafe, and I must say that the croque madame is an absolutely genius invention.
Off again, and we made it into a beautiful little town called Pavilly, just north of of Rouen, where we stopped off to get some bread. Up and over a few more hills and I was starting to curse the contents on my bike and danny as well, who seemed to pull out some much needed power on the last rise. Finally, racing down a hill we arrived at the outskirts of Rouen and tried to find the campsite that offered me bed and so much sleep.
We finally found the campsite, and after setting up the tents I lay down and fell into a deep sleep for an hour while danny went to the shops. It started to rain when he got back and woke me up, so we cooked in the tent (badly) by the light of my wind-up mp3 player.
It rained all night, not to mention was bitingly cold. My sleeping bag is meant to be three-season, but I definately should have got a warmer one. I actually thouoght my tent was leaking because my feet were so cold, my mind confused it with a feeling of wetness. I woke the next day to a horror of horrors, the tent had dyed everything the same colour as it - red! Never fear however, for it was just the light coming through the inner-sheet, but the illusion was quite astounding. The plan had been to leave that morning, but it would not stop raining and even hailing until early afternoon, so we decided to stay that night as well and spent the rest of the day in rouen, which is where I lost Danny.
More soon.
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