In the City of the Crusaders

Now that we have arrived in Aigues Mortes, we are officially no longer in Provence, but have entered the region of the Occitanie. The long hot days in Avignon already seem like a distant memory as each day has been filled with so many experiences and activities that we are danger of sensory overload. One of the reasons I take the time to put some daily information into the blog is that, if I don't record it straight away, there is a very real danger of it quickly all becoming jumbled up into a rapidly fading kaleidoscope of impressions.

Our plan for today was quite simple - to explore the region around Aigues Mortes by undertaking a loop ride that would take us as far as the small villages of Le Cailar and Marsillargues. The common theme of this region is the bull. This animal is obviously of great impoprtance in the local culture and this is one of the few regions of France where there are regular bull fights conducted. To our relief we learnt that, on most occasions, the life of the bull is spared.

Although the terrain was mostly flat, the raging Mistral wind certainly is a fearsome adversary when it blows straight in your face. Although Arie had instructed us not to draft close behind the rider in front, I had to admit that his instructions were soon forgotten as our riders sought out every opportunity to get even a little shielding from the raging onslaught.

The only silver linings in our clouds occured when the ride took us downwind. On those rare times, the wind swept us along like a jet engine. The smiles returned and the speed of the peloton increased dramatically. Although the sun still felt quite hot at times, it was nothing like the searing heat that was a feature of the first few days of our ride.

On several occasions we encountered the group of American cyclists that were completing the same ride that we were. They certainly looked like a rabble when compared to the well disciplined Ghostrider group. With their mottley collection of clothing and erratic cycling behaviour, they looked like a huge accident was about to happen at any moment. A significant proportion of their riders apparently chose to abandon the group on the first day and thereafter just "do their own thing" for the rest of the week. They certainly did not seem to be a happy group.

We were pleased that three of the Americans had been allocated to our boat to fill up the empty cabin spaces. Although they probably felt at first that they had been sent to purgatory, I think they quickly realised that the Australians were actually more fun to be with. We were just pleased that the three Americans we had been allocated were just as anti Trump and anti gun as we all are. It turned out very well for them and us. Maybe one day there will be a Ghostrider chapter in Portland Oregon.

We arrived back at the Estello at around 3.30 pm and unloaded our bikes for the final time. The bikes had performed really well and were ideal for this type of riding, however after 6 days of riding, my backside was ready for a break. I also had another important task to complete - to catch up on the big backlog of laundry.

We had learnt from the Internet that there was a coin laundry in Aigues Mortes. Google maps clearly showed us where to go and we were just about to leave when Captain Claude asked us if we needed help. I felt like I had to tell him that we were off to the laundromat. What happened next was both touching and time wasting.

The Captain asked for the phone, looked at it intently and rotated it back and forth. You would swear that he had never seen a map before. He scratched his ponytail, zoomed the image in and out and looked confused. He looked like he was sitting a three hour exam for his captain's certificate. I could even swear that he examined the back of the phone to see if it had any information on it.

About twenty minutes later he was still fumbling around and decided that he would need to phone a friend for help. Another ten minutes were spent on the phone. The mystery deepened. We did not have the heart to tell him that we already knew the way (and we had never been to this town before). Although he came here every week, he was obviously completely and utterly lost.

The problem was it was now a matter of French honour. He could not admit that he had no idea where the laundromat was, so he insisted on coming with us. We formed a chain of laundry carrying Ghostriders, following a French sea captain to God only knows where. It reminded me of the famous Pied Piper of Hamlyn leading the rats out of the city.

Captain Claude actually led us through the city gates and into the old city. He was getting more confused by the minute. Those minutes were passing by quickly and we were worried that the laundromat would soon be closing. Our odyssey continued until finally the captain spied someone he thought he might have once known. He chatted away in French and was told what we already knew - that the laundromat was actually in the opposite direction to the one we had been walking.

Captain Claude beamed as if he had received a revelation. He waved his hands, told us to "turn right, turn left" (or something like that) and then finally set us free to go in the direction we wanted to go in at the start. It was a bit frustrating, but it gave a wonderful insight into the French way of thinking. It was another example of why I love France and the French people so much.

We finally found the laundromat, washed and dried our clothes, and returned to the boat with huge smiles. Later that evening we enjoyed another wonderful meal and said our final thank you's to the staff who had looked after us for the past week.

Tomorrow David and Joan will leave to make their own way back to Australia while the rest of us will have another two nights in a hotel in Aigues Mortes, before catching the train to Nevers.Read more