A Perfect Wrong Turn!

Day 48: Bar-sur-Aube to Saint-Dizier (45 miles / 1,700 ft.)

We were up around 7:30, knowing it would be a chilly morning with rain forecast for later in the day. Our plan was to request an early check-in in Saint-Dizier and hopefully beat the 3:00 rain.

Dark skies and heavy gray clouds looked ominous when we rolled out around 9:00. It was about 42 degrees, so we bundled up with shoe covers, stocking caps under our helmets, and rain jackets to block the cold wind.

What we had not done was look at the route profile. Almost immediately, we began climbing about 600 feet and were soon sweating beneath all those carefully selected layers. We climbed into the low clouds and damp air, then stopped on the plateau to strip some of everything back off. The first ten miles became a routine of putting on clothes, removing clothes, and trying to decide what season it was.

One of our favorite weather predictions is, “It’s going to burn off!” As we settled into a rhythm, the sky actually began looking a little more promising.

The rolling hills, farms, and herds of cattle reminded us a bit of Wisconsin. Then we reached Soulaines-Dhuys, one of those towns I had marked on the map with “Explore!” We wandered past the church, community gardens, little waterways, and narrow lanes.

Then I spotted a beautiful tractor. I have been photographing tractors for Blake’s friend Nathan in Indiana, so I stopped to take a picture while Lisa rode ahead and turned down the wrong lane. When she saw two men sitting behind a beautiful house covered in vines turning red for autumn, she sheepishly said, “Désolée” (“Sorry”). I think that was what made them laugh.

They said something in French, and we explained that we spoke very little French, which led to more laughter and our usual mixture of gestures, scattered words, and translation apps.

Their names were Jean-Claude and Emmanuel. They invited us behind the house to see their little pond and then asked if we would like coffee. We were supposedly in a hurry to beat the rain, but some invitations are too good to refuse.

Jean-Claude is an automobile designer and operates an Airbnb from the property. Emmanuel is a dairy farmer who owns more than forty tractors. He and Nathan would probably become immediate friends!

The conversation eventually drifted toward politics when they asked about our president. Despite the language barrier, we found plenty of common ground. The world seems to have more than enough craziness, while friendship, kindness, and peaceful country living make considerably more sense.

Wrong turns do not always end this well. Instead of being told we were trespassing, we were invited in for coffee and conversation. As we prepared to leave, Jean-Claude gave us a postcard from his Airbnb as a souvenir. Then he ran back inside and returned with a large jar of his homemade honey.

There was nothing left to do but give them both enormous hugs and say, “Merci beaucoup! Au revoir!” What an unexpected gift from a wrong turn down a little lane in France.

We continued north through farmland and forests toward Lac du Der-Chantecoq, another enormous reservoir built to regulate the Marne River and help protect communities downstream from flooding. A multisport event was underway, with people running, mountain biking, and canoeing.

Naturally, we stopped to explore. The Church of Champaubert stands alone beside the reservoir, preserved when the surrounding village was cleared during the lake’s construction. With the clouds darkening, I kept joking that we were playing with fire, or more accurately, playing with rain.

While sightseeing in another town, we finally felt the first drops. We were about eight miles from Saint-Dizier, so it was time to hightail it. We followed the canal through light drizzle, pushing against an 8 mph headwind and a steady 1 percent uphill grade.

We reached our apartment at 2:05, a little damp but safely ahead of the heavier drizzle. It was still drizzling when we ventured out around 5:00 for a short walk and dinner supplies.

Saint-Dizier sits along the Marne River and has a long history of metalworking and iron foundries. The reports of unrest in Paris sounded chaotic, but out here among the farms and smaller towns, it all felt very far away and had no effect on our travels.

Dinner was leftover pasta carried from last night, a fresh baguette, and a canelé, the small fluted pastry made famous in Bordeaux. This one was not quite as wonderful as our first, but it still satisfied the sweet tooth.

The laundry is finished, tomorrow’s weather looks better, and we are relaxing in our cozy apartment before an early night.

Tomorrow will also be a big day for our friend Blake, whom we hosted through Warmshowers two years ago. He will finish his journey from the northernmost point of Japan to the southernmost point. We are sure he must have mixed feelings about completing such an incredible adventure and returning home to Indiana.

Blake’s Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/desolation.pedals?cpl…

Blake’s YouTube channel:
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