Me and John. Hotel Badet St Peray
Wednesday 8th June St Peray to Bollene
59.2 miles 9:15 to 15:40. 4:22 hrs riding Avge 13.57mph
Total 633 miles
We said our goodbyes this morning, took a few photographs and bade each other a safe journey home.
I was alone again - for a while at least because 10 miles down the N86 I caught up with my Canadian friend Jean again. We swapped stories about our experiences over the last 250 miles or so. We couldn't believe the coincidence of bumping into each other three times as we were heading for different destinations with completely different schedules.
My right hand is now partially numb, my little and ring fingers have permanent pins and needles despite my investment in multi-density gel handlebar grips and gel padded gloves. Strange that it's only my right hand. My only other ailment is the painful and ever-blackening bruise on my thigh from the 'Sens incident'. Well. not quite my only ailment, but the ritual morning application of Savlon to my 'contact points' with the saddle have fended off the worst of the ravages of the 633 miles so far ridden.
I left the N86 and crossed the suspension bridge over the Rhône at Viviers, the cross wind was so fierce that I had to dismount and walk across.
From Chateauneuf du Rhône I climbed over the pretty Défile de Donzere on the D144 and descended to Pierrelatte.
I hadn't pre-booked a hotel for tonight as with the 50kph Mistral pushing me down the Rhone valley I thought it wise to just see how far I could get.
Deciding on Bollene as a target I telephoned ahead and booked a room in the Hôtel La Chene Vert. My route into Bollene took me past the well advertised ' Ferme aux crocodiles' - it's clearly marked on the Michelin map too, so it must be a pretty big farm set up. I'm not sure if they just breed them sell them or eat them - probably all three.
There wasn't much to do this evening as my hotel is on the outskirts of town in the countryside so I showered and went for a walk before dinner. When I returned, as I crossed the courtyard to the hotel's restaurant I noticed the swimming pool.Doh! Who'd have thought a little hotel like this would have a pool? I'd have loved a swim!
Thursday 9 th June Bollene to Tarascon
52.6 miles 08:50 to 14:30. 4:13 riding Avge 12.44
Total 685 miles.
It's been a very strange day today, to all intents and purposes it's my penultimate day on the road and I should be excited at nearing my destination - but I'm not. I think the enjoyment of the trip has been in the planning and the actual travelling, not just arriving at the destination.
It was my last day on the main roads, a few more 'klicks' on the N7 and I was back on the yellow and white wiggly minor stuff on the Michelin map.
I Passed through Orange this morning and had a look at the Roman amphitheatre - very impressive. Then I rode past an infants' school just as the children were going home for lunch. It reminded me of my own daughter when she was that age. I always remember some of the best advice I've ever had was from an old ex-work colleague, Vince Murray. When I was complaining about sleepless nights Vince said to me in a broad Yorkshire accent "Aye, you enjoy her - you'll not have her for long"
Sage advice, she's nearly 15 now and has absolutely no interest in dad's daft adventure. God I've got to stop this, I'm getting maudlin. I think I'm getting home sick.
Theatre Antique Orange
Chateauneuf du Pape looked like a good detour on the map; it's a nice little town but probably best appreciated if you're buying wine as the whole of the centre is full of vintners' shops and wholesalers. The detour unfortunately turned me straight back into the teeth of the Mistral for a time - payback time, this morning's weather forecast had warned of gusts of up to 60kph.
My destination for this evening was Tarascon, an unremarkable little town with a remarkable medieval castle which has survived completely intact from the year 1400. I climbed its spiral staircase on protesting legs to be rewarded at the top with fantastic views over the Rhône and the surrounding countryside.
I'm staying in the Hôtel le Terminus and my bike is in a cavernous old dining salon next to the kitchens. It has to smell better in there than in my room which is situated above what must be an open drain stench pipe. It's too smelly to open the windows and too hot to close them. I'll put up with it for now as I can't be bothered moving all my kit and drying washing to another room. I made my usual phone call home to Sue tonight and told her that for the first time on the trip I've been feeling sorry for myself. I think I must be homesick, because even some of the things that endear France to me are beginning to seriously piss me off.
I'm dining next to a table with a small brown dog underneath it; though it's behaving quite well except for the odd whine. A young couple have just entered the restaurant and have been asked "Smoking or non smoking?" "Non smoking? - Ok you may sit just there, next to the dog".
Don't even start me on the state of French toilets. How anywhere other than a fly-blown third world country could accept the toilet in a quality restaurant to be a smelly 'hover-bog' lit by a 10 watt bulb with a 20 second timer is a complete mystery to me. And another thing. (I'm beginning to rant now) at the entrance to each village there is a sign reading "Drive carefully, think of the children". Every other shop in the high street is a driving school, and just this afternoon I've witnessed a (very impressive) street-long wheelie by a youth on a trail bike and a handbrake turn by a lad driving an old Fiat in the semi-pedestrianised cobbled town centre. The locals didn't bat an eyelid! The police are omni-absent and the TV news is showing pictures of carnage on the autoroutes. It will take a major culture change before the French take safe driving seriously. It's been a strange day today.
Friday 10 th June Tarascon to Aigues Mort.
37.3 miles 09:00 to 13:00 3hrs riding Ave 12.28 Total 732 miles.
I was glad to leave my room this morning as the smell of the drains intensified during the night and I didn't sleep very well at all. I felt much better after breakfast and thankfully, a damned sight more cheerful than I felt yesterday when I was unusually depressed. I headed south west away from the Rhône on the D38 alongside the Rhone canal to St Giles, and then the D179. Today was just a short hop to Aigues Mortes through the edge of the Camargue - easy riding as it is totally flat, but as a consequence it's pretty featureless too. Just reeds, flies, ditches and rice fields to see apart from one old windmill tower that had a stork and a couple of its young in a tangled nest of sticks at the top. There were a few gîtes for rent but I can't imagine them appealing to anyone other than a birdwatcher with an appetite for flies.
The Marshes gave way to Listel vineyards and I could see the towers of the old walled town of Aigues Mortes in the distance. Aigues Mortes (dead waters) is known as the gateway to the Camargue and was once a sea port, but because of silt being washed along the coast from the Rhone it is now well inland. I was only about 10 miles from the sea but I wanted to visit and stay in the old town. I built a couple of rest days into my schedule and I've not yet used them, so I'll stay over and then tomorrow morning I'll have just a 10 mile bimble to the sea. I booked into a tiny quirky little hotel and got an air conditioned room with shower and wash basin for 29 euros - an absolute steal in a tourist town. A waiter locked my bike in a garage for me while I hunted out a diy shop where I bought a 4 metre roll of bubble-wrap to protect my bike in its flimsy bag for the flight home.
I explored the ramparts and the old castle then set about deciding which of the many restaurants in the central square I'd visit tonight.
I'm trying to decide whether to stay in Montpellier until I fly home on Monday or whether to stay a few miles away on the coast at the resort of la Grande Motte. As French towns all but close on a Sunday I may well be better off staying in a beach resort. At least then I can show off and top up my ludicrous cyclist's tan* *Cyclists tan: Brown arms from bicep to wrist, and brown legs from mid-thigh to ankle.
First sight of the Med - note bubble wrap!
Saturday 11 th June Final day. Aigues Mort to La Grande Motte (Montpellier)
7.8 miles 53 minutes Ave 8.76 mph Grand Total 730 Miles
It was a misty start this morning but the sun burned through within a few minutes of me setting off. I saw the sea for the first time in Groi du Roi where the crazy one-way system continually tried to send me back to Le Havre. Eventually I gave up and pushed my bike against the traffic flow until I escaped to the D255 to La Grande Motte. La Grande Motte is a creation of the late '60s when miles of salt marsh were re-claimed and a purpose built resort was created. It can be seen from miles away with its crazy mixture of 'sci-fi' meets ancient-Egypt pyramid-style architecture. Although it's quite a large resort it has a 'village' feel to it and you're seldom aware of any resort type naff-ness. I decided to treat myself to a bit of luxury and booked into the 3 star 'Hotel Europe' that Sue and I once stayed at some 15 years ago.
It looks like a 2 storey 1970's moon-base but is very comfortable and well equipped.
Journey's end - La Grande Motte
I left my luggage in the room and set off for the beach where I immediately accosted a likely looking couple walking at the water's edge; I blurted out an abridged version of my story, handed them my camera and asked them to take some photographs. Luckily they were delighted to oblige as I stood in the sea holding my bike.
I was on a bit of a high now so found a bar and had my first daytime beer since the first day near Brionne. I sent text messages to everyone I know to tell them my news. Good news from home is that lots of people have been sponsoring me and the total so far is getting towards £500!
I'm glad I didn't know that before I left or the pressure to succeed would have really spooked me. Cancer Research is a charity very dear to me as my Dad died of cancer in 1986 and my Mum beat breast cancer over 15 years ago.
Anyway, on a cheerier note; I bought a box of Kronenbourg 1664 beer to stock the hotel room's mini bar (cheaper than drinking at room service prices!) and spent what was left of the afternoon dismantling and mummifying my bike in bubble-wrap before packing it into the flight bag.
I'm dining tonight in a very swish harbour-side restaurant that Sue and I visited once. Well.It's all over now - I just want to go home.
Sunday 12 th June La Grand Motte.
I was asked while I was planning my trip if I thought I would be lonely?
With the exception of the other day the answer has been no. I've been quite happy with my own company. During the daytime there has been so much to see and do while on the road, navigating too has also kept me fully occupied.
After booking into hotels and washing my kit, planning and deciding on the next day's route, I'd have a quick walk around the town and phone home.
Then I'd go straight to a restaurant where I'd write my journal and I'd usually be in bed for 10 o'clock at the latest.
Talking of navigating, you really cannot get lost in France. You can lose your way briefly, or take a wrong turn, but you won't get lost because unlike some of the UK's unclassified roads all French roads are numbered and very well sign posted. I used a yellow Michelin road atlas 1:200,000 which is approximately 3 miles to 1 inch scale. I removed only the pages I needed from the atlas so just 17 pages covered my whole trip.
Yellow Michelin maps have fantastic detail and I can't recommend them highly enough. To augment the maps, I listed the village names and road numbers of the day's route on an easily read strip of paper in my bar bag's map holder.
This worked so well that I only needed to glance at my maps occasionally for confirmation.
Would I do it again? Emphatically yes. I've had a truly wonderful time.
Some days were really hard work but I never once climbed onto my bike in the morning without being excited about what the day would bring. In fact this morning while walking on the beach I realised that I was actually missing riding off to somewhere else for the first time in a fortnight. My only regret is not having had the luxury of enough time to meander around and explore a bit more. I suppose I could have waited for retirement but sod's law would have ensured I had a dodgy knee or something by then!
I'm writing this lying by the hotel pool and the sun has just gone in. Talking of weather, I've been so lucky; I only had one day of rain and only 2 really hot days. My bike served me well, I didn't have any punctures at all and the noisy crank luckily didn't get any worse. My legs and lungs had few if any problems, but no one warned me how sore by backside would get!
The sun has completely disappeared now so I think I'll go for the 15:30 boat trip around the bay. I must remember to book my taxi for the short trip to the airport for tomorrow too. I may not get the chance to write anymore so to anyone with the stamina to be still reading this far on - thanks.
On my return home I found the total sponsorship money raised was £700 and my weight was.. 12st 4lbs.
This is now in serious danger of sounding embarrassingly like an Oscar winner's speech but here goes anyway.
Thanks to Sue for indulging and encouraging me.
Thanks to all at BT, Airbus and the Big Trail Bike Club who sponsored me.
Thanks to Bern, Rick and John for the en-route company.
Thanks to Edward Enfield and 'Downhill All The Way' for the inspiration.
© Paul Atkin 2005.
For the Anoraks.
My Bike was a 1998 'Specialized Rockhopper' fitted with
'Specialized Nimbus' EX 26 x 1.5 slick tyres and 'Shimano' PDM520 SPD pedals. The rear carrier was a 'Blackburn Mountainrack' and the luggage:
26ltr (per pair) panniers, rack pack, and bar bag with map holder were all 'Altura Skye'. 'VDO Cytec' trip computer. 1.5ltr 'Trek' Water bottle.
2 spare inner tubes, a puncture repair kit, cycling multi-tool and steel tyre levers. And.a few metres of rolled up gaffer tape just in case!
To protect the wheel-less frame from the airline baggage handlers; I made 2 axle-length spacers to fit into the wheel drop-outs from some threaded steel bar inserted into 25mm plastic water pipe. All secured with washers and ny-lock nuts.
My riding kit included .
Short sleeved jersey, socks, helmet and 'Sonoma' shoes, all by 'Specialized'.
'De March'i shorts, 'Spray Way' wind jacket and 'Ronhill trackster' long pants.
Accomodation guides from Logis de France and Routard.
Maps were 1;200,000 (1cm = 2km ) Michelin torn from a yellow spiral bound atlas. 'Silva' computer map measurer.
Clothes included 2 'Berghaus' tee shirts, 'North Face' cargo pants and shorts
(all fast drying technical fabrics). 2 pairs of underpants, a pair of lightweight moccasins and a lightweight fleece jacket. I washed all the above using a small bag of soap powder and an absolutely invaluable 'Lifesystems' elastic washing/drying line.
First aid kit comprised, 'Savlon', sticking plasters, mosquito repellent, antihistamine cream, 'Neurofen' gel, ibuprofen tablets, laxatives and 'Diocalm' (both thankfully not needed!) Hay fever inhaler and eyedrops.
Sun block, and 'Malibu dry oil' factor 8 sun protection spray for my er.scalp.
The above isn't an exhaustive list of kit and I didn't use all of it, but you never know!