Specialized TriCross Sport was my bike / weapon of choice for my trip through France. With the exception of the saddle (too narrow, race saddle, not built for long days sitting) I would not change a thing about this bike, it was really brilliant and even Simon commented on how light it was compared to is Long Haul Trucker, but that is a lovely steel frame :) Somehow I always (almost always!) managed to be second to the top of the Cols, think that's engine not bike :)
This has been a once a decade opportunity, whether I would do it again in a hurry, well, probably not. Its damned hard work, and I really cant sleep in a tent on a pretend mattress anymore - the old injuries make it just too hard to sleep well. But man, what an experience. The highs and lows were amazing, and those lows teach you so much about yourself, and what happens in the deep dark places when you go there - and how dragging yourself out of those low places - f'rinstance, climbing 10K of hard hill straight out of camp, after no sleep, stiff and sore from the day before - and packing a tanty half way up because its hard work. We all have our moments, and having a great mate like Simon there to be a part of it was kinda cool :)
And the payback, for example, when you spend 4 hours climbing 30k of hill, to get a 35k downhill that feels like heaven really should feel, well, that's just too much for words, beyond my capability for words anyway.
And then being tested again, cycling from the train station in Lyon to the airport into a howling gale on narrow fast and busy roads - scary as all hell, but the feeling of personal triumph upon arrival, huge. So, the trip is nearly over, and in an hour I will be watching as Heathrow slips away behind us as we head for LAX. Its been a challenging, fun and wonderful few weeks, and Im so glad I did it.
Do yourself a favour - if you can, don't hesitate, do it. Or wait 10 years and come with me when I do it again, this time without panniers and on a road bike :)
Friday, June 3, 2011
Oh, finally great coffee - and in London!
It's been weeks of black slop foist on me - and yes I fully get that I'm a coffee snob :)
Had a meeting at Carluccio's in Kensington High Street this morning before heading to the airport, ordered ristretto and got a god shot - nice way to start the journey home.
Now, in about 34 hours time, I can get one in New Plymouth!
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Had a meeting at Carluccio's in Kensington High Street this morning before heading to the airport, ordered ristretto and got a god shot - nice way to start the journey home.
Now, in about 34 hours time, I can get one in New Plymouth!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Cranwell Rd,,United Kingdom
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Oh, that was nice
That was a very nice duck liver, thank you Mr duck :)
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London is still London - go figure
Had a huge day of walking and shopping yesterday - after a 1,000k's of cycling, I'm not used to walking anymore and my legs are very sore. That and the pollution is killing my sinuses again, after weeks of rural France had cleared them again - but I will stop whinging now :)
So, first stop today was Hamleys, just left after successful visit, should see a 6 year old girl very happy when dad gets back on Sunday...and the bulk of shopping is done, just great scotch to collect in Auckland.
Lunch coming up for work, then more shopping before I catch for drinks and dinner with my old buddy Scott. Last time he and I caught up here in London it was a truly memorable evening, ending with kebabs and trying to shift a huge pile of bricks around a car at 2AM. Given I'm flying back tomorrow afternoon I suspect I will be a little more circumspect tonight :)
And it's 615PM, I have a lovely Chablis and an accompanying duck liver and brandy pate. This is the London I remember, away from the tourists and enjoying great food and wine. Scott is finishing work and will be here in an hour. Life is good.
And tomorrow at 4PM I step on to NZ1 and start the journey home, and I really cannot wait. 3 weeks is the longest I've been away, and it's way too long.
Breakfast and great coffee at Chaos on Sunday morning, oh god I've missed great coffee :)
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So, first stop today was Hamleys, just left after successful visit, should see a 6 year old girl very happy when dad gets back on Sunday...and the bulk of shopping is done, just great scotch to collect in Auckland.
Lunch coming up for work, then more shopping before I catch for drinks and dinner with my old buddy Scott. Last time he and I caught up here in London it was a truly memorable evening, ending with kebabs and trying to shift a huge pile of bricks around a car at 2AM. Given I'm flying back tomorrow afternoon I suspect I will be a little more circumspect tonight :)
And it's 615PM, I have a lovely Chablis and an accompanying duck liver and brandy pate. This is the London I remember, away from the tourists and enjoying great food and wine. Scott is finishing work and will be here in an hour. Life is good.
And tomorrow at 4PM I step on to NZ1 and start the journey home, and I really cannot wait. 3 weeks is the longest I've been away, and it's way too long.
Breakfast and great coffee at Chaos on Sunday morning, oh god I've missed great coffee :)
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Et, Londre
It's changed, and it hasn't. The core of everything I lived with for nearly 10 years is still there, as much of it has been for probably 100 years or more, but the facade has changed, albeit yet again briefly.
It'd been 10 years since I spent any time here. Today after landing I checked in - staying at T5, easier that way - and first went to Oxford Street to shop. So much work going on; street, tube, you name it. But the streets are still packed, but the accents and languages have changed.
Today I've heard a lot of Russian and French spoken, and seen lots of burkas. Ive walked the length of Oxford and Regent streets, seen that Hamleys is 250 years old - whoa - and the tube is 150.
I've felt jostled and cramped, but then after 12 hours if feels like home again, how very odd. After 2 weeks of back country cycling, wearing real clothes - clean clothes, and boxers! - again, I feel a bit like a bumpkin :)
So, with shopping in tow, I'm curried, a couple of London Prides to the better and about to catch up on sleep. Think I need that catch up!
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It'd been 10 years since I spent any time here. Today after landing I checked in - staying at T5, easier that way - and first went to Oxford Street to shop. So much work going on; street, tube, you name it. But the streets are still packed, but the accents and languages have changed.
Today I've heard a lot of Russian and French spoken, and seen lots of burkas. Ive walked the length of Oxford and Regent streets, seen that Hamleys is 250 years old - whoa - and the tube is 150.
I've felt jostled and cramped, but then after 12 hours if feels like home again, how very odd. After 2 weeks of back country cycling, wearing real clothes - clean clothes, and boxers! - again, I feel a bit like a bumpkin :)
So, with shopping in tow, I'm curried, a couple of London Prides to the better and about to catch up on sleep. Think I need that catch up!
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Le Sigh - some things really are sent to test us
So, it's 0720 here in Lyon. I'm sitting in the lounge, waiting for my BA flight to London. So far this morning:
1. Up, showered, shaved - novel! - dressed, packed, collected bagged bike, paid left hotel. Or rather squeezed past the Germans smoking right outside the door. Pardon got me a down the large nose look - accidentally smacking 23kg's of bike into the back of the Teutonic tosser on my last trip through got him more animated. Sorry mate, honest.
2. Realise there are no carts. Large suitcase, small case, laptop and bike bag. Bum. Sling bike over shoulder, wheel other two, I must have looked like a tall tortoise. Get to terminal, up escalator, wait for 20 minutes whilst Gallic shrugging fails to change ticket tape at check in. Check in. Go to wrong departure gate.
3. Go through to right gate check point. Put clobber on conveyer. Walk through metal detector. Back, take shoes and belt off. Try again - success! Asked to open small case. Officer points to plastic bag containing two pedals, two wheel skewers and a pedal spanner. Shakes head - and takes out spanner. Huh? Give me a wheel skewer, I could have a pilot at my mercy in seconds, but a pedal spanner??? You have to be kidding me. Nope. Wave goodbye to best pedal spanner I've ever owned.
Le sigh.
It's amazing how dehydrated I still am after the last couple of days - I keep craving and drinking cold water.
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1. Up, showered, shaved - novel! - dressed, packed, collected bagged bike, paid left hotel. Or rather squeezed past the Germans smoking right outside the door. Pardon got me a down the large nose look - accidentally smacking 23kg's of bike into the back of the Teutonic tosser on my last trip through got him more animated. Sorry mate, honest.
2. Realise there are no carts. Large suitcase, small case, laptop and bike bag. Bum. Sling bike over shoulder, wheel other two, I must have looked like a tall tortoise. Get to terminal, up escalator, wait for 20 minutes whilst Gallic shrugging fails to change ticket tape at check in. Check in. Go to wrong departure gate.
3. Go through to right gate check point. Put clobber on conveyer. Walk through metal detector. Back, take shoes and belt off. Try again - success! Asked to open small case. Officer points to plastic bag containing two pedals, two wheel skewers and a pedal spanner. Shakes head - and takes out spanner. Huh? Give me a wheel skewer, I could have a pilot at my mercy in seconds, but a pedal spanner??? You have to be kidding me. Nope. Wave goodbye to best pedal spanner I've ever owned.
Le sigh.
It's amazing how dehydrated I still am after the last couple of days - I keep craving and drinking cold water.
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Oh err that were a day
So, today we started together and finished a long, long way apart.
Yesterday, well, that was a long, challenging but satisfying and at the end very fun day. Today was all over the place.
We left the chambre d'hôte around 830, no breakfast - we were lucky to finally get a room - and hit the road for Avignon. Simon had decided to accompany me into Avignon, and to be honest I was grateful - the busy roads were really scary and navigating those into such a busy city had me a little nervous after 2 weeks of traffic being the odd tractor and a goat.
Navigating in to a big city has its challenges, as does going out, as I discovered! We hit the back roads towards Lirac and Tavel but there was still traffic, but thankfully much less. We finally found an open cafe, breakfasted and coffee'd (Simon is REALLY quiet riding pre coffee!) and then set forth for the Rhone and Avignon.
One minor navigational error later, a bit of checking once we were inside the ancient walls of this incredible city, and we found the Gare we were looking for. Tickets purchased, and mad dash to the platform - which is down then up. In a lift that barely fits a bike. And then the lift up to the platform - don't ask, long story - doesn't work, so it's lift the bike and full load up two flights of stairs to the platform.
And then my phone rings. It's Simon. I still have the map he needs, and my train is entering the station...
Oh hell. Grab map out of case, leaving bike, bags, wallet, passport, everything behind, mad dash down stairs to the lift to meet Simon, he doesn't get out of lift, I panic, think fast, throw map close to lift door and leg it back up stairs to platform and bike, grab it, run to far end of train - miles! - as short fat French conductor frowns at me, leap on board doors close, train departs...
Check for passport etc, thank god it's all there. Im missing a glove, dropped. Two minutes later very nice young man finds me and hands me glove - to effusive poor French thanks from me.
Txt Simon - he got the map! OMG, miracles do happen!
Settle in for boring non TGV train ride - TGV to Lyon St Expury don't take bikes. Means I have to ride the 25k from Lyon to the airport. Gulp.
Two hour train ride, listening to BBC and radio nz podcasts. Arrive, off, reassemble bike and head for crowded station. Every man and his small white dog is here, along with huge and well armed Gendarmes - the SNCF even has it's own armed force - so I lock bike to large pillar - considered locking to Gendarme, dismissed, rushed in to book shop, grabbed map of Lyon, paid, dashed out. Bike still there, evil types no doubt scared by my stubble and smell :)
Exit station, into a howling gale. I've lived in and landed in Wellington. This wasn't an "is the airport open" gale, this was "is the airport still there" wind. Every sense is imposed upon, as you try and open, read, fold and pack a map, keep an eye out for nefarious villainous types (might be wearing berets, might not) and stay calm.
Le sigh.
When Simon and I came in from the airport, it was early-ish morning, we had his computer capability, and it wasn't blowing a howling gale.
I didn't have these things. I had had breakfast 6 hours ago. I had a cheap map. I had me :)
The iPhone gave me compass direction, the map an idea. I headed east, found the hospital, but no way round it. Gagging for a wee, waited for full bus to pass - nothing to see here - and relieved (I've been in rural France way too long) I kept moving east. Finally found the route out, busy as hell but out.
5k found me the bike path. The cover I had had from buildings was now gone, and the side wind had me leaning hard right, compensating as it eased so I didn't wobble in to traffic - scary stuff.
Knew I was about 15k from the airport. And then the facade crumbled. A sign for the golden arches. Oh god, I was so thirsty.
I'm not proud of this, let's be clear. But desperate times etc. I went around the roundabout, and entered that center of everything that isn't French food. I ordered un grand mac, un filet, frites and two large drinks.
The first drink lasted all of 20 seconds. The Mac, about a minute longer. Pause for breath. Oh, free wifi!
After 45 minutes, I knew it was time to front up and leave; god that was a hard moment. Back to the chained bike, wind so loud you can't even think.
And 10k to go. God those were busy roads. Shouting at the wind helps, a little, not much.
Final roundabout 4k to go, oh, so very close, but such a busy, narrow road. Trucks passing so close at 100kph, every one who gives me room I shout really loudly "thanks mate" hoping kiwi karma really works.
And I make the roundabout at the airport. Oh god I'm nearly there I'm nearly safe. I cross the multiple roads into the airport, and just as I pass under the first structure, a massive roar fills my ears and I jump, physically - I've just crossed over the TGV line as one went through, I had forgotten the utterly visceral and prehistoric noise those things make as they roar past.
I sight the hotel, my smile huge.
The lobby greets me - ah the joy of walking into the lobby of a good hotel wheeling a bike, smelling really bad and unshaven :)
40 minutes to break the bike and pack it - see you again in New Plymouth old friend. And then a glorious very hot then very cold shower. Clean clothes - and boxers! - and down to the bar to work and drink hugely expensive beer.
The riding is done. My compadre is still out there, somewhere in Nimes tonight. Kia kaha Simon, it's been huge. Karen, we looked after each other, he is very capable and will be fine, and is fully briefed for your arrival.
This isn't my last post. But for now, the riding is over, and that's good and bad. I will cope, I'm sure.
BA to London at 8AM, French time - catch you soon.
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Yesterday, well, that was a long, challenging but satisfying and at the end very fun day. Today was all over the place.
We left the chambre d'hôte around 830, no breakfast - we were lucky to finally get a room - and hit the road for Avignon. Simon had decided to accompany me into Avignon, and to be honest I was grateful - the busy roads were really scary and navigating those into such a busy city had me a little nervous after 2 weeks of traffic being the odd tractor and a goat.
Navigating in to a big city has its challenges, as does going out, as I discovered! We hit the back roads towards Lirac and Tavel but there was still traffic, but thankfully much less. We finally found an open cafe, breakfasted and coffee'd (Simon is REALLY quiet riding pre coffee!) and then set forth for the Rhone and Avignon.
One minor navigational error later, a bit of checking once we were inside the ancient walls of this incredible city, and we found the Gare we were looking for. Tickets purchased, and mad dash to the platform - which is down then up. In a lift that barely fits a bike. And then the lift up to the platform - don't ask, long story - doesn't work, so it's lift the bike and full load up two flights of stairs to the platform.
And then my phone rings. It's Simon. I still have the map he needs, and my train is entering the station...
Oh hell. Grab map out of case, leaving bike, bags, wallet, passport, everything behind, mad dash down stairs to the lift to meet Simon, he doesn't get out of lift, I panic, think fast, throw map close to lift door and leg it back up stairs to platform and bike, grab it, run to far end of train - miles! - as short fat French conductor frowns at me, leap on board doors close, train departs...
Check for passport etc, thank god it's all there. Im missing a glove, dropped. Two minutes later very nice young man finds me and hands me glove - to effusive poor French thanks from me.
Txt Simon - he got the map! OMG, miracles do happen!
Settle in for boring non TGV train ride - TGV to Lyon St Expury don't take bikes. Means I have to ride the 25k from Lyon to the airport. Gulp.
Two hour train ride, listening to BBC and radio nz podcasts. Arrive, off, reassemble bike and head for crowded station. Every man and his small white dog is here, along with huge and well armed Gendarmes - the SNCF even has it's own armed force - so I lock bike to large pillar - considered locking to Gendarme, dismissed, rushed in to book shop, grabbed map of Lyon, paid, dashed out. Bike still there, evil types no doubt scared by my stubble and smell :)
Exit station, into a howling gale. I've lived in and landed in Wellington. This wasn't an "is the airport open" gale, this was "is the airport still there" wind. Every sense is imposed upon, as you try and open, read, fold and pack a map, keep an eye out for nefarious villainous types (might be wearing berets, might not) and stay calm.
Le sigh.
When Simon and I came in from the airport, it was early-ish morning, we had his computer capability, and it wasn't blowing a howling gale.
I didn't have these things. I had had breakfast 6 hours ago. I had a cheap map. I had me :)
The iPhone gave me compass direction, the map an idea. I headed east, found the hospital, but no way round it. Gagging for a wee, waited for full bus to pass - nothing to see here - and relieved (I've been in rural France way too long) I kept moving east. Finally found the route out, busy as hell but out.
5k found me the bike path. The cover I had had from buildings was now gone, and the side wind had me leaning hard right, compensating as it eased so I didn't wobble in to traffic - scary stuff.
Knew I was about 15k from the airport. And then the facade crumbled. A sign for the golden arches. Oh god, I was so thirsty.
I'm not proud of this, let's be clear. But desperate times etc. I went around the roundabout, and entered that center of everything that isn't French food. I ordered un grand mac, un filet, frites and two large drinks.
The first drink lasted all of 20 seconds. The Mac, about a minute longer. Pause for breath. Oh, free wifi!
After 45 minutes, I knew it was time to front up and leave; god that was a hard moment. Back to the chained bike, wind so loud you can't even think.
And 10k to go. God those were busy roads. Shouting at the wind helps, a little, not much.
Final roundabout 4k to go, oh, so very close, but such a busy, narrow road. Trucks passing so close at 100kph, every one who gives me room I shout really loudly "thanks mate" hoping kiwi karma really works.
And I make the roundabout at the airport. Oh god I'm nearly there I'm nearly safe. I cross the multiple roads into the airport, and just as I pass under the first structure, a massive roar fills my ears and I jump, physically - I've just crossed over the TGV line as one went through, I had forgotten the utterly visceral and prehistoric noise those things make as they roar past.
I sight the hotel, my smile huge.
The lobby greets me - ah the joy of walking into the lobby of a good hotel wheeling a bike, smelling really bad and unshaven :)
40 minutes to break the bike and pack it - see you again in New Plymouth old friend. And then a glorious very hot then very cold shower. Clean clothes - and boxers! - and down to the bar to work and drink hugely expensive beer.
The riding is done. My compadre is still out there, somewhere in Nimes tonight. Kia kaha Simon, it's been huge. Karen, we looked after each other, he is very capable and will be fine, and is fully briefed for your arrival.
This isn't my last post. But for now, the riding is over, and that's good and bad. I will cope, I'm sure.
BA to London at 8AM, French time - catch you soon.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Downhill bliss
We left Villefort this morning around 10, a slow start, but straight into 2k of great big uphill - nice to get it over with quickly.
We then went into 10k or so of gentle uphill through lovely forest, lovely smooth roads, didn't even feel like we were climbing. After an hour or so we summited the 850m col, which we both sniffed at, seasoned climbers both these days :) 850m isn't a Col, it's a bump
We knew we had downhill now but no idea what it would be like - busy, rough surface, steep, no idea at all.
What we got was utterly sublime. This was 40 minutes that I will remember the rest of my life. The road was so smooth, it was like a freshly ironed shirt, barely a bump or ripple all the way down.
You don't peddle, you brake sometimes for corners. Your bike moves gently under you as you sweep through bends.
You are surrounded by forest, opening sometimes as you pass small villages or homes, then closing around you again, the sun filtering through the trees. You snapshot small things around you - the centipede in the road, the sudden sound of water as you pass a waterfall, cherry trees laden with huge deep crimson fruit, time seems to slow down for an instant as you take these things in, during the downwards rush.
Small patches of wildflowers; their scent quickly and briefly filling your nostrils. It sounds peculiar but there is everything and nothing - you are lost in those moments, gently moving the bike as she responds to the road and your lean or steer.
Sweeping wide through bends, watching as cars climb the hill, you feel relaxed, in control and completely as one with the bike and the road.
Everything is smoothed into a gentle whole, your perceptions narrowed but somehow feeling so much wider, everything felt as though in a dream, with small corrections made, and random thoughts fill and leave your mind. It was for me an almost perfect state of bliss, a few albeit brief moments of perfect solitude, a glorious headlong rush on beautiful roads, through luscious forest filled with bird song on a perfect day.
My words cannot really describe the sheer joy, the overwhelming sense of freedom, space and the utter sense of moment. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful things to have ever happened to me, that I have been a part of, that I will always remember.
It was a cyclists perfect moment writ so large, and I am left with such a huge sense of completeness after it, no sense of loss that it is behind me at all.
A few moments of such beauty, clarity and perfection. That will stay with me for a very long time.
15k. Sheer bliss.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
We then went into 10k or so of gentle uphill through lovely forest, lovely smooth roads, didn't even feel like we were climbing. After an hour or so we summited the 850m col, which we both sniffed at, seasoned climbers both these days :) 850m isn't a Col, it's a bump
We knew we had downhill now but no idea what it would be like - busy, rough surface, steep, no idea at all.
What we got was utterly sublime. This was 40 minutes that I will remember the rest of my life. The road was so smooth, it was like a freshly ironed shirt, barely a bump or ripple all the way down.
You don't peddle, you brake sometimes for corners. Your bike moves gently under you as you sweep through bends.
You are surrounded by forest, opening sometimes as you pass small villages or homes, then closing around you again, the sun filtering through the trees. You snapshot small things around you - the centipede in the road, the sudden sound of water as you pass a waterfall, cherry trees laden with huge deep crimson fruit, time seems to slow down for an instant as you take these things in, during the downwards rush.
Small patches of wildflowers; their scent quickly and briefly filling your nostrils. It sounds peculiar but there is everything and nothing - you are lost in those moments, gently moving the bike as she responds to the road and your lean or steer.
Sweeping wide through bends, watching as cars climb the hill, you feel relaxed, in control and completely as one with the bike and the road.
Everything is smoothed into a gentle whole, your perceptions narrowed but somehow feeling so much wider, everything felt as though in a dream, with small corrections made, and random thoughts fill and leave your mind. It was for me an almost perfect state of bliss, a few albeit brief moments of perfect solitude, a glorious headlong rush on beautiful roads, through luscious forest filled with bird song on a perfect day.
My words cannot really describe the sheer joy, the overwhelming sense of freedom, space and the utter sense of moment. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful things to have ever happened to me, that I have been a part of, that I will always remember.
It was a cyclists perfect moment writ so large, and I am left with such a huge sense of completeness after it, no sense of loss that it is behind me at all.
A few moments of such beauty, clarity and perfection. That will stay with me for a very long time.
15k. Sheer bliss.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
We noticed a change today
And I think we both knew it was coming, we were just having too much fun to notice.
For me, it was a traffic light. Yup, a traffic light. As we came into Vallon-Pont-d'Arc, at one end of the Gorge De L'Ardeche we were about to climb up onto the town, and there was a traffic light. It's the first we've seen in more than a week. I was a little non-plussed and had to remind myself what to do.
We had been on busier roads since lunch, and as we came into the gorge the tourist traffic picked up noticeably. We will be making an early run out of the gorge in the morning, miss as much of the traffic as we can.
So, we've gone from very remote to within a 100k of Avignon and it feels really weird, and not very nice.
We've eaten 1 star and 5 star food, ham and cheese baguette and foie gras; eaten sausages sitting on top of hard earned mountain passes before long entrancing and sometimes scary downhills, and we've drunk water, sometimes up to 6 litres a day struggling in the heat to stay hydrated; we've opened and inhaled goodness knows how many small bottles of Orangina, grateful for the cold sweet sugar rush.
We've climbed countless Cols and mountains, enjoyed smooth climbs and descents and been challenged by climbs that seemed interminable in the heat of the day.
And the traffic light today reminded me we are heading back to civilisation, noise, traffic and people. But also to our families. A few days to go, I hope they to have some special moments.
Enough already, it's aperitif time :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
For me, it was a traffic light. Yup, a traffic light. As we came into Vallon-Pont-d'Arc, at one end of the Gorge De L'Ardeche we were about to climb up onto the town, and there was a traffic light. It's the first we've seen in more than a week. I was a little non-plussed and had to remind myself what to do.
We had been on busier roads since lunch, and as we came into the gorge the tourist traffic picked up noticeably. We will be making an early run out of the gorge in the morning, miss as much of the traffic as we can.
So, we've gone from very remote to within a 100k of Avignon and it feels really weird, and not very nice.
We've eaten 1 star and 5 star food, ham and cheese baguette and foie gras; eaten sausages sitting on top of hard earned mountain passes before long entrancing and sometimes scary downhills, and we've drunk water, sometimes up to 6 litres a day struggling in the heat to stay hydrated; we've opened and inhaled goodness knows how many small bottles of Orangina, grateful for the cold sweet sugar rush.
We've climbed countless Cols and mountains, enjoyed smooth climbs and descents and been challenged by climbs that seemed interminable in the heat of the day.
And the traffic light today reminded me we are heading back to civilisation, noise, traffic and people. But also to our families. A few days to go, I hope they to have some special moments.
Enough already, it's aperitif time :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:London,United Kingdom
Of Rain, Mountains, Cold & Downhills
We left the camping ground
at Florac early, without breakfast and in the rain, uphill. It got slightly better when we discovered an open cafe about 5k up the road.
Getting out of the rain was nice, looked like brekkie would be croissant and coffee until the baguette man arrived - yay! Spread with butter and jam we started to feel a little better about the day ahead - 30k of climbing another mountain, this one Col de Finiels, at 1541m another monster.
But then it turned ever so slightly sour again - Simon had the sheer nerve to fill his bottles from a tap in the toilet, closely followed by me doing the same. Mdm Grumpy packed a wobbly compounded by me presenting a 100 Euro note in payment - must have been having a bad hair day...
Anyway, back to the climb, relatively easy but our rest day had left us out of our pattern and it took a good hour or so to find it, and going up hill thats hard work.
We stopped at Pont de Montvert for a cold drink as we knew the climb was about to get serious - about 700m vertical in 11k. Most of it was fine, a few sharp pinches as we slowly made our way up.
By this stage there was a cold wind blowing, but the rain had stopped and it was clearing.
Finally summited
and it was freezing! Luckily I had my merino running top, threw it on, we made quick work of a couple of spare emergency ration sausages we were carrying, and started the descent - ah, if only we really knew...
11k of fast and furious downhill later, we arrived in Le Bleymard, hoping for a late lunch. With a shrug we were told we might get a ham and cheese sandwich - in France that can be ordinary or it can be a work of art - we scored the latter
You could place that Sanger in a contest based on size alone, let alone the quality, fabulous.
We were sitting in the sun, neither of us wanting to move, when we finally called time at 3PM and moved our old and tired bodies.
Leaving the village we saw the sign saying 29k to Villefort, our destination. Mental math had us reckoning 530PM for hitting town, as we slowly got the legs moving again.
We climbed a small rise, went through some really deep gravel road works, and then, blow me down, a miracle happened. We started descending, and it just didn't stop. Peddling very briefly on the flatter bits, maybe a bit of brake in the corners, but down down down we went, k after k; watching the k markers click down every minute or two was magical.
On the way up, our slowness had allowed us to smell great lung fulls of the fields of flowers we were slowly going past. Our downhill had us gliding past chateaux and lakes with a huge grin on our faces, we were flying, the roads were smooth and quiet, cycling heaven. 10k, 15k 20k it went on and on, as we plunged to the valley floor.
We passed under a railway bridge, crossed over a bridge over a lake, turned right for the final 1.5k in to town - another lovely downhill. Superbe.
We have found a great and cheap place to stay, and all is good. Now THAT was a ride :) Oh and we did that 29k in 90 minutes - that felt nice too. :)
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at Florac early, without breakfast and in the rain, uphill. It got slightly better when we discovered an open cafe about 5k up the road.
Getting out of the rain was nice, looked like brekkie would be croissant and coffee until the baguette man arrived - yay! Spread with butter and jam we started to feel a little better about the day ahead - 30k of climbing another mountain, this one Col de Finiels, at 1541m another monster.
But then it turned ever so slightly sour again - Simon had the sheer nerve to fill his bottles from a tap in the toilet, closely followed by me doing the same. Mdm Grumpy packed a wobbly compounded by me presenting a 100 Euro note in payment - must have been having a bad hair day...
Anyway, back to the climb, relatively easy but our rest day had left us out of our pattern and it took a good hour or so to find it, and going up hill thats hard work.
We stopped at Pont de Montvert for a cold drink as we knew the climb was about to get serious - about 700m vertical in 11k. Most of it was fine, a few sharp pinches as we slowly made our way up.
By this stage there was a cold wind blowing, but the rain had stopped and it was clearing.
Finally summited
and it was freezing! Luckily I had my merino running top, threw it on, we made quick work of a couple of spare emergency ration sausages we were carrying, and started the descent - ah, if only we really knew...
11k of fast and furious downhill later, we arrived in Le Bleymard, hoping for a late lunch. With a shrug we were told we might get a ham and cheese sandwich - in France that can be ordinary or it can be a work of art - we scored the latter
You could place that Sanger in a contest based on size alone, let alone the quality, fabulous.
We were sitting in the sun, neither of us wanting to move, when we finally called time at 3PM and moved our old and tired bodies.
Leaving the village we saw the sign saying 29k to Villefort, our destination. Mental math had us reckoning 530PM for hitting town, as we slowly got the legs moving again.
We climbed a small rise, went through some really deep gravel road works, and then, blow me down, a miracle happened. We started descending, and it just didn't stop. Peddling very briefly on the flatter bits, maybe a bit of brake in the corners, but down down down we went, k after k; watching the k markers click down every minute or two was magical.
On the way up, our slowness had allowed us to smell great lung fulls of the fields of flowers we were slowly going past. Our downhill had us gliding past chateaux and lakes with a huge grin on our faces, we were flying, the roads were smooth and quiet, cycling heaven. 10k, 15k 20k it went on and on, as we plunged to the valley floor.
We passed under a railway bridge, crossed over a bridge over a lake, turned right for the final 1.5k in to town - another lovely downhill. Superbe.
We have found a great and cheap place to stay, and all is good. Now THAT was a ride :) Oh and we did that 29k in 90 minutes - that felt nice too. :)
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Friday, May 27, 2011
Thank you
I would not be here in France if it wasn't for one person who is looking after our babies, and as always doing a great job of it, through birthdays, soccer, swimming, gym, you name it.
Thank you :)
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Thank you :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Place du Bosquet,Villefort,France
Happy birthday from 20,000k away
Dear Mr. Oliver,
Sorry I missed your birthday darling, but it does mean a present from London. I hear Mum has worked hard on a cake for you.
Have a great time with your friends, and see you in a week.
Love you very much,
Dad
I used to be quite small, but I've always been very cool...
Even when Mum painted my toenails...
My balance may not be perfect
But damn I scrub up well
:)
All my love, Dad xx
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Sorry I missed your birthday darling, but it does mean a present from London. I hear Mum has worked hard on a cake for you.
Have a great time with your friends, and see you in a week.
Love you very much,
Dad
I used to be quite small, but I've always been very cool...
Even when Mum painted my toenails...
My balance may not be perfect
But damn I scrub up well
:)
All my love, Dad xx
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Place du Bosquet,Villefort,France
Of Rain, Mountains, Cold & Downhills
We left the camping ground
at Florac early, without breakfast and in the rain, uphill. It got slightly better when we discovered an open cafe about 5k up the road.
Getting out of the rain was nice, looked like brekkie would be croissant and coffee until the baguette man arrived - yay! Spread with butter and jam we started to feel a little better about the day ahead - 30k of climbing another mountain, this one Col de Finiels, at 1541m another monster.
But then it turned ever so slightly sour again - Simon had the sheer nerve to fill his bottles from a tap in the toilet, closely followed by me doing the same. Mdm Grumpy packed a wobbly compounded by me presenting a 100 Euro note in payment - must have been having a bad hair day...
Anyway, back to the climb, relatively easy but our rest day had left us out of our pattern and it took a good hour or so to find it, and going up hill thats hard work.
We stopped at Pont de Montvert for a cold drink as we knew the climb was about to get serious - about 700m vertical in 11k. Most of it was fine, a few sharp pinches as we slowly made our way up.
By this stage there was a cold wind blowing, but the rain had stopped and it was clearing.
Finally summited
and it was freezing! Luckily I had my merino running top, threw it on, we made quick work of a couple of spare emergency ration sausages we were carrying, and started the descent - ah, if only we really knew...
11k of fast and furious downhill later, we arrived in Le Bleymard, hoping for a late lunch. With a shrug we were told we might get a ham and cheese sandwich - in France that can be ordinary or it can be a work of art - we scored the latter
You could place that Sanger in a contest based on size alone, let alone the quality, fabulous.
We were sitting in the sun, neither of us wanting to move, when we finally called time at 3PM and moved our old and tired bodies.
Leaving the village we saw the sign saying 29k to Villefort, our destination. Mental math had us reckoning 530PM for hitting town, as we slowly got the legs moving again.
We climbed a small rise, went through some really deep gravel road works, and then, blow me down, a miracle happened. We started descending, and it just didn't stop. Peddling very briefly on the flatter bits, maybe a bit of brake in the corners, but down down down we went, k after k; watching the k markers click down every minute or two was magical.
On the way up, our slowness had allowed us to smell great lung fulls of the fields of flowers we were slowly going past. Our downhill had us gliding past chateaux and lakes with a huge grin on our faces, we were flying, the roads were smooth and quiet, cycling heaven. 10k, 15k 20k it went on and on, as we plunged to the valley floor.
We passed under a railway bridge, crossed over a bridge over a lake, turned right for the final 1.5k in to town - another lovely downhill. Superbe.
We have found a great and cheap place to stay, and all is good. Now THAT was a ride :) Oh and we did that 29k in 90 minutes - that felt nice too. :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
at Florac early, without breakfast and in the rain, uphill. It got slightly better when we discovered an open cafe about 5k up the road.
Getting out of the rain was nice, looked like brekkie would be croissant and coffee until the baguette man arrived - yay! Spread with butter and jam we started to feel a little better about the day ahead - 30k of climbing another mountain, this one Col de Finiels, at 1541m another monster.
But then it turned ever so slightly sour again - Simon had the sheer nerve to fill his bottles from a tap in the toilet, closely followed by me doing the same. Mdm Grumpy packed a wobbly compounded by me presenting a 100 Euro note in payment - must have been having a bad hair day...
Anyway, back to the climb, relatively easy but our rest day had left us out of our pattern and it took a good hour or so to find it, and going up hill thats hard work.
We stopped at Pont de Montvert for a cold drink as we knew the climb was about to get serious - about 700m vertical in 11k. Most of it was fine, a few sharp pinches as we slowly made our way up.
By this stage there was a cold wind blowing, but the rain had stopped and it was clearing.
Finally summited
and it was freezing! Luckily I had my merino running top, threw it on, we made quick work of a couple of spare emergency ration sausages we were carrying, and started the descent - ah, if only we really knew...
11k of fast and furious downhill later, we arrived in Le Bleymard, hoping for a late lunch. With a shrug we were told we might get a ham and cheese sandwich - in France that can be ordinary or it can be a work of art - we scored the latter
You could place that Sanger in a contest based on size alone, let alone the quality, fabulous.
We were sitting in the sun, neither of us wanting to move, when we finally called time at 3PM and moved our old and tired bodies.
Leaving the village we saw the sign saying 29k to Villefort, our destination. Mental math had us reckoning 530PM for hitting town, as we slowly got the legs moving again.
We climbed a small rise, went through some really deep gravel road works, and then, blow me down, a miracle happened. We started descending, and it just didn't stop. Peddling very briefly on the flatter bits, maybe a bit of brake in the corners, but down down down we went, k after k; watching the k markers click down every minute or two was magical.
On the way up, our slowness had allowed us to smell great lung fulls of the fields of flowers we were slowly going past. Our downhill had us gliding past chateaux and lakes with a huge grin on our faces, we were flying, the roads were smooth and quiet, cycling heaven. 10k, 15k 20k it went on and on, as we plunged to the valley floor.
We passed under a railway bridge, crossed over a bridge over a lake, turned right for the final 1.5k in to town - another lovely downhill. Superbe.
We have found a great and cheap place to stay, and all is good. Now THAT was a ride :) Oh and we did that 29k in 90 minutes - that felt nice too. :)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Location:Place du Bosquet,Villefort,France
The day of rest continued
So we left town for the campground beside the Tarn, first stop a Carrefour supermarche.
Bog roll, laundry liquid and a few bits like decent beer and wine for tent erecting duties.
Simon went in first, and came out with four of the largest toilet rolls I've ever seen, smallest he could get apparently. I had been chatting to a group of French motor bikers, basically doing what we were but more quickly :)
I went in, got chips for my salt needs, beer for tent pitching and a small bottle of Cotes Du Rhone for later
I came out to find Simon firmly ensconced with his French boyfriend, suspected he was looking to leave so packed up and made a move.
Just as we were leaving, a legume disaster - a woman leaving the market lost peas (in a jar) and sauce from a box she had on her trolley. We stopped, Simon held my bike and I picked up her other bits and pieces, re boxed them, accepted her thanks and we rode the 2k to the campground. I can be helpful in French now as well :)
So, we have arrived, made camp, about to do washing and have dinner. I suspect an early night, but dinner awaits...
Dinner did await, but so did the Green Goddess. Simon has obviously been away from home far too long, and has taken matters into, erm, you know. Meet the Green Goddess.,,
Yes, that's the cafe at the camping ground, Simon had bought a date..,
And then, when she becomes non compliant, she is disposed of - it was not an easy thing to watch. The sheer cruelty, oh the humanity of it all - pass the wine please :)
Thankfully dinner, comprising salad du magret fume, or smoked duck salad and frites
and a lovely and well executed Tarte Tatin
more than made up for the abhorrent inflatable behaviour. I'm ashamed to have been a part of it at all.
Question: how many NZ camping grounds serve beer and wine, can produce a great duck salad with lovely fries and a very good Tarte Tartin and all for under $NZD40?
Bog roll, laundry liquid and a few bits like decent beer and wine for tent erecting duties.
Simon went in first, and came out with four of the largest toilet rolls I've ever seen, smallest he could get apparently. I had been chatting to a group of French motor bikers, basically doing what we were but more quickly :)
I went in, got chips for my salt needs, beer for tent pitching and a small bottle of Cotes Du Rhone for later
I came out to find Simon firmly ensconced with his French boyfriend, suspected he was looking to leave so packed up and made a move.
Just as we were leaving, a legume disaster - a woman leaving the market lost peas (in a jar) and sauce from a box she had on her trolley. We stopped, Simon held my bike and I picked up her other bits and pieces, re boxed them, accepted her thanks and we rode the 2k to the campground. I can be helpful in French now as well :)
So, we have arrived, made camp, about to do washing and have dinner. I suspect an early night, but dinner awaits...
Dinner did await, but so did the Green Goddess. Simon has obviously been away from home far too long, and has taken matters into, erm, you know. Meet the Green Goddess.,,
Yes, that's the cafe at the camping ground, Simon had bought a date..,
And then, when she becomes non compliant, she is disposed of - it was not an easy thing to watch. The sheer cruelty, oh the humanity of it all - pass the wine please :)
Thankfully dinner, comprising salad du magret fume, or smoked duck salad and frites
and a lovely and well executed Tarte Tatin
more than made up for the abhorrent inflatable behaviour. I'm ashamed to have been a part of it at all.
Question: how many NZ camping grounds serve beer and wine, can produce a great duck salad with lovely fries and a very good Tarte Tartin and all for under $NZD40?
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The well earnt Day of Rest
Unbelievable: with the blinds shut, I slept 10 hours straight, woke at 9AM thinking it was 6 it was so dark. Mad scramble to get to breakfast before it finishes, and we are now in Florac having coffee.
As we left the hotel we came across an amazing old wine chiller
Have no idea how old it was but what an amazing old appliance.
Quick wander around town before we head to the camping ground to swim, eat, drink, wash and dry filthy clothes etc
And we almost made it out of town - pizza for lunch whilst we await the super market reopening at 3PM
Florac is yet another very old village at the bottom of the gorge
And now its time for the supermarket and head to the campground 2k away - tough day :)
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As we left the hotel we came across an amazing old wine chiller
Have no idea how old it was but what an amazing old appliance.
Quick wander around town before we head to the camping ground to swim, eat, drink, wash and dry filthy clothes etc
And we almost made it out of town - pizza for lunch whilst we await the super market reopening at 3PM
Florac is yet another very old village at the bottom of the gorge
And now its time for the supermarket and head to the campground 2k away - tough day :)
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Even a bad day can be good
But sometimes you have to look hard :)
After breakfast at the campground we started what was to be a mentally difficult and physically very hard ride.
The trip down in to Meyrueis was easy, more of the downhill from yesterday. A quick stop for some shopping, and then follow the Gorges de la Jonte downstream for 25k, hardly peddling or braking the whole way - fantastic stuff.
The gorge we were in was huge, cliffs rising hundreds of metres either side.
This is such an old part of the world
And there are villages everwhere through the gorges
And we finally decided on lunch at Les Vignes
Which was duck confit and chips - in hindsight a bad bad choice, boy did this come back
Why? Because we chose to climb out of the gorge post lunch to get to the Causse Mejean, a plateau to cross over to Florac.
This was 5k of climbing that took over an hour. It was the south face of the Eiger, in the hottest part of the day, on a mountain side with no shade. Each hairpin bend exposed another huge climb, long and steep. As usual Simon beat me to the top by miles but we were both shattered from gaining 800m in 5k - scary stuff.
We saw a sign for a cafe and had to go 1k off our planned course to get there, but it was worth it
Two ice cold Oranginas later and 35k to go, and it's still really hot.
There are some climbs and downs big then we hit a headwind and man its hard work.
Eventually, finally we hit the down hill into Florac, a 6k white knuckle scare fest that landed us a great bed, a great restaurant
In a lovely village. Yes, thats duck two ways and foie gras. We earnt that meal and that bed, like never before.
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After breakfast at the campground we started what was to be a mentally difficult and physically very hard ride.
The trip down in to Meyrueis was easy, more of the downhill from yesterday. A quick stop for some shopping, and then follow the Gorges de la Jonte downstream for 25k, hardly peddling or braking the whole way - fantastic stuff.
The gorge we were in was huge, cliffs rising hundreds of metres either side.
This is such an old part of the world
And there are villages everwhere through the gorges
And we finally decided on lunch at Les Vignes
Which was duck confit and chips - in hindsight a bad bad choice, boy did this come back
Why? Because we chose to climb out of the gorge post lunch to get to the Causse Mejean, a plateau to cross over to Florac.
This was 5k of climbing that took over an hour. It was the south face of the Eiger, in the hottest part of the day, on a mountain side with no shade. Each hairpin bend exposed another huge climb, long and steep. As usual Simon beat me to the top by miles but we were both shattered from gaining 800m in 5k - scary stuff.
We saw a sign for a cafe and had to go 1k off our planned course to get there, but it was worth it
Two ice cold Oranginas later and 35k to go, and it's still really hot.
There are some climbs and downs big then we hit a headwind and man its hard work.
Eventually, finally we hit the down hill into Florac, a 6k white knuckle scare fest that landed us a great bed, a great restaurant
In a lovely village. Yes, thats duck two ways and foie gras. We earnt that meal and that bed, like never before.
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Mountains are quite big aren't they?
Day one of our trip through the Cevennes was always going to be a hard day - 92k and a 1600m mountain to climb - and then descend.
We started with the plan to lunch and rest during the hottest part of the day, 1230 to 330. Even now in late May it's hitting 30 during that time, and the heat from the road and the rocks makes it hotter.
We found our way out of Millau after the bike shop ok, and bowled along through the gorge.
The gorge is lovely and we sat happily on 15kph even though it's uphill.
This 11th century church was close to our turnoff, and about 10k from our lunch stop - these villages are all medieval and still populated
From this point we climbed a small hill and then carried on through another valley to our lunch spot
By the time we had finished lunch, an enormous bowl of gorgeous carbonara
It was time to get out of the sun for a rest
So after a quiet rest in the shade, we started what would be a 3 hour climb up to the summit of Mont Aigoual, at nearly 1600m our biggest climb so far. It was 27k of solid uphill riding from lunch, and there were some very hard bits mentally, that's for sure - so lots of excuses to stop for water and photos
As we got close to the summit, around 7PM, I was feeling a tad emotional and very ready to stop. We had been told there was a Gite on the summit, but it was closed, so we had to descend another 25k to Meyrueis.
So helmet on (taken off 3 hours earlier for the ascent) and down we go.
Almost.
The first bit I took off and was going so fast it tore the velcroed map off my front pannier. Thankfully Simon was behind me and collected it, and off we went again.
This was a huge downhill with only a couple of places where peddling was required - k after k of forest and smooth road, gentle corners for the most part - apart from one I badly overcooked, came in way too hot and thank god my gravel MTB skills are still up there -rear wheel slide into the corner shouting "whoo hoo" at 40kph is only fun after it's been executed :)
Must have hit speeds of 70kph or so but that was the best downhill of my life ever. We arrived at the outskirts of Meyrueis,
And we decided to hit the local campground - it was after 8PM we were both exhausted and had expectations of no food and a blow up mattress - right and wrong
So, tent up let's see what we can scavenge for dinner
This is France - dinner was three courses, home made vegetable soup, lamb curry and a lovely chocolate mousse, washed down with lovely cold beer. Now THATS a camp ground :) oh and the local girls turned up ;)
That was an enormous ride - 90k including 1600m mountain 9 hours ride time. But what a brilliant day, beyond all expectations.
Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
We started with the plan to lunch and rest during the hottest part of the day, 1230 to 330. Even now in late May it's hitting 30 during that time, and the heat from the road and the rocks makes it hotter.
We found our way out of Millau after the bike shop ok, and bowled along through the gorge.
The gorge is lovely and we sat happily on 15kph even though it's uphill.
This 11th century church was close to our turnoff, and about 10k from our lunch stop - these villages are all medieval and still populated
From this point we climbed a small hill and then carried on through another valley to our lunch spot
By the time we had finished lunch, an enormous bowl of gorgeous carbonara
It was time to get out of the sun for a rest
So after a quiet rest in the shade, we started what would be a 3 hour climb up to the summit of Mont Aigoual, at nearly 1600m our biggest climb so far. It was 27k of solid uphill riding from lunch, and there were some very hard bits mentally, that's for sure - so lots of excuses to stop for water and photos
As we got close to the summit, around 7PM, I was feeling a tad emotional and very ready to stop. We had been told there was a Gite on the summit, but it was closed, so we had to descend another 25k to Meyrueis.
So helmet on (taken off 3 hours earlier for the ascent) and down we go.
Almost.
The first bit I took off and was going so fast it tore the velcroed map off my front pannier. Thankfully Simon was behind me and collected it, and off we went again.
This was a huge downhill with only a couple of places where peddling was required - k after k of forest and smooth road, gentle corners for the most part - apart from one I badly overcooked, came in way too hot and thank god my gravel MTB skills are still up there -rear wheel slide into the corner shouting "whoo hoo" at 40kph is only fun after it's been executed :)
Must have hit speeds of 70kph or so but that was the best downhill of my life ever. We arrived at the outskirts of Meyrueis,
And we decided to hit the local campground - it was after 8PM we were both exhausted and had expectations of no food and a blow up mattress - right and wrong
So, tent up let's see what we can scavenge for dinner
This is France - dinner was three courses, home made vegetable soup, lamb curry and a lovely chocolate mousse, washed down with lovely cold beer. Now THATS a camp ground :) oh and the local girls turned up ;)
That was an enormous ride - 90k including 1600m mountain 9 hours ride time. But what a brilliant day, beyond all expectations.
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