A Tour de France

August - October 2019
In 2019 a group of riders from the Australian Ghostriders Cycling Group are travelling in France to complete a cycling adventure in Provence, followed by a four week ride along the Loire. You are invited to share the trip with us.
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  • 36.5kkilometers
  • 33.6kkilometers
  • Day 20

    Trains, Trains and more Trains

    September 9, 2019 in France ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C

    Although there is no doubt we had all thoroughly enjoyed our time in Aigues Mortes, after two days of relative inactivity, we were starting to get itchy feet (and I am not referring to the tinea commonly experienced by some other travellers). We actually were ready to resume our cycling. The only problem was that first we had to traverse about 600 km of France to reach Nevers where we were to begin our ride along the Loire River.

    When I was putting this trip together I thought that it would be a good idea to include a couple of day's break between the end of section one and the start of section two. This turned out to be a very wise move as we discovered that it is basically impossible to get out of Aigues Mortes at the week end.

    Although there is a train station at Aigues Mortes, the long grass growing up between the rails is clear evidence that the line is not exactly frequently traversed by trains. In fact we found that the 11:52 am train to Nimes is basically the only option and it only runs on weekdays.

    In order to make our way to Nevers we would have to somehow negotiate a complex sequence of train connections and a glitch in any one of the these connections could have potentially disastrous consequences.

    The long odyssey began with a walking peloton from our hotel to the station. We piled our mountain of luggage in a strategic position and waited for the train to arrive. When it did finally roll into the station, we were horrified to find that it was more like a bus than a train. It only had one carriage and that was already filled with passengers from the previous station.

    We had no choice other than to resort to brute force. Fifteen elderly Ghostriders jammed cases into every available space (mostly in the middle of the single aisle) and then tried to find a place to stand. I spent the next 30 minutes balanced on one leg and trying to avoid falling into the pram that was pressed against my other leg. To make matters worse, the airconditioning was almost non existent and the temperature was soon soaring. It was not a pleasant start to a long journey.

    When we arrived at Nimes we all were exceedingly glad to be free of the train. Since we had a 90 minute gap before the next train was due, we took the opportunity to get something to eat for lunch. The next train would be a first class ride to Dijon. At least we would look forward to reserved seats. The only problem was that, when we reached the platform we were told that the "train was retarded". That was not the news we wanted to hear, especially as we only had a 20 minute break at Dijon before we had to catch the final train to Nevers.

    Our train was indeed retarded and became more so as the trip progressed. Although the scenery was absolutely glorious, I was too stressed to really enjoy it. It was soon obvious that we would have no hope of catching our third connection and I had horrific visions of having to spend the entire night sleeping on the railway platform, surrounded by our luggage. At least the wifi on the train was excellent, easily the best we had experienced in our entire trip so far.

    Of course we arrived at Dijon, just in time to see the train we wanted to catch, disappear into the distance. This could have been catastrophic, but we did discover that there was a second train due to leave in about 40 minutes time. At least it looked like we would be able to reach our hotel, but probably too late for dinner.

    Although it had not gone exactly to plan, we were delighted to discover that the train to Nevers was almost empty. We spread out over an entire carriage and started to misbehave terribly. It had been a very long day in transit and the combination of stress and sugar was starting to make the group act like kids at a red cordial fuelled birthday party. The few remaining locals in the carriage soon departed for other quieter parts of the train.

    We finally rolled into Nevers at about 8 pm. The light was fading and the temperature was dropping as we rolled our cases up the deserted main street to the Best Western Hotel de Diane. I was relieved to find that the hotel reception was still waiting for us and they informed us that we had not missed our dinner after all.

    We were even happier to find that the rooms were amazing - large, clean and comfortable. Best of all was the fact that the dinner was absolutely superb. As each dish was presented to us, we relished every mouthful. The benchmark for dining has now been set at an absurdly high level. It had been quite a day. Tomorrow we will be back on the bikes again.
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  • Day 21

    On the Road Again

    September 10, 2019 in France ⋅ 🌙 15 °C

    After our three days of relative inactivity (actually disorganised mayhem), it was time to resume our cycling. After all, that was why we had come all this way to the far side of the planet.

    Before we could start riding we first had to get bikes. That is sort of a basic fact of the universe. But there was a problem, There often is. I received a phone call informing me that the man who was bringing the bikes from Blois was stuck in thick traffic and would be "retarded by at least an hour". We would have to adapt Plan B.

    We had read that there was an amazing market in Nevers that was really worth seeing. A little further research showed that it was apparently close to our hotel. I therefore suggested to our riders that they might like to have a look at the market first, and then get the bikes later. Before I had finished my sentence, the women were already out the door looking for the market and an opportunity to spend money.

    About 45 minutes later I thought I might as well have a look as well. The bikes still had not arrived and the hotel foyer was getting a little boring. I had not walked far when I found Carol and Sam walking back towards me. They were devastated. They had not been able to find the market. Obviously life can not get much wore than this. On further investigation, I found that they had actually walked right past the front door. I had to admit that it was a little underwhelming as it was only a food market and most of the stalls were still locked. There were none of those exciting stalls where women could buy Chinese knock offs at inflated prices. What a letdown.

    The big bike delivery van finally arrived about 10 am and the driver slowly and carefully unloaded all 16 bikes. He did not want help as he wanted to do it his way. About 30 minutes later the bikes were unloaded and then began the familiar process of each rider finding their allocated bike and assessing its suitability. I had been in this position many times before and always find it stressful.

    "My bike's too big", "My bike's too small", "Mine is the wrong colour for my shirt", "I won't ride a ladies bike", "I didn't know we had to ride bikes", "My handlebars are too pointy", "My seat's all funny", "My bottom is hurting already", "How do you change gears ?", "What are gears for anyway ?", "I don't want a pannier", "I want more panniers", "I want lunch".

    It went on and on. It's not easy trying to set up 16 elderly citizens with walking frames, let alone with bicycles. After every single bike was adjusted, poked, asssessed and decorated with ribbons, we were finally ready to go.

    Our peloton slowly wobbled down the main street, watched by numerous bemused locals. We somehow made it to the old city without too much incident, but then stumbled into a complicated sequence of staircases. We had to manhandle all the bikes down the stairs, at times coming close to destroying a couple of the ebikes. It was not an an auspicious start to the ride.

    We finally left the city by crossing the bridge over the Loire. We were on our way at last. Actually we were on the wrong way. I had made a small error of navigation and was leading the group in the opposite direction. I quickly realised my error, the group U turned and we found the correct route.

    What followed next was a beautiful bike path, right alongside a shady canal. This was just the type of riding that we all adored. It was what we needed to settle our nerves after the stress of the morning. You can imagine my joy when I spied a lovely cafe, right on the bank of the canal.

    "This looks like a suitable coffee stop", I yelled.
    "But we have only been riding for 10 minutes", someone commented.
    "We have no idea when the next opportunity will be", I countered.

    Since no one could fault my logic, we all parked the bikes. Actually we spread them all over the precinct in a random array of unlocked vehicles. Arie was no longer here to dictate that all be parked in a precise line with locks and chains galore. We just needed coffee.

    It was now after 12 noon and I think that everyone was happy to sit and enjoy the surroundings. We also took a new group photo to immortalise the occasion. Our adventure on the Loire was now officially underway.

    We never did find another place to buy our baguette lunch. Well actually we did, but they had none left. We rode the remaining 45km on empty stomachs. Fortunately the scenery was absolutely superb - a never ending sequence of canals, locks, tiny flowered villages and quiet bike paths.

    The highlight was the Pont de Canal, an amazing sight which allows the Canal of the Loire to cross the Allier River. It would even have been more amazing to see a barge crossing the Pont, but the canal was deserted. The huge lock at the end had gates which must have been 10 metres high and they were decorated with colourful flowers. From the side, the structure almost looked like the huge Roman Pont du Gard, that we had ridden past in Provence. In nature it would be highly unusual to see two rivers crossing each other !

    By the late afternoon a steady head wind had developed. It was nowhere near as strong as the Mistral we had endured in Provence, but on empty stomachs it was a challenge. Our first view of Charite Sur Loire was a memorable one, cameras were produced and pictures were taken.

    The final kilometre to our hotel involved a long walking peloton through the ancient town. Our hotel was the quaint "Thousand and One Books" hotel. Every inch of the place had been decorated in a literary theme. The staircases were about 30 cm wide and there was no lift. It was going to be the pitstop for the first day of our Loire Ride.

    Our evening meal was at the restaurant attached to the hotel, so we did not have to walk far. Once again the food was glorious. It had been the first time most of us had eaten since breakfast in Nevers.
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  • Day 22

    A Test of Strength in Sancerre

    September 11, 2019 in France ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    After our late start yesterday, we were all keen to get rolling on our bikes as early as possible. I had previously instructed the team to be down for breakfast by 7.30 am, so that we could get started on our ride at 9 am. Since a peloton rides on its stomach, it is always important to begin each day with a hearty repast of cereal, juices, baguettes, yoghurt, cheeses, fruit and of course coffee.

    Buoyed by the lovely meal we had been supplied with the previous evening, we all entered the breakfast room of the hotel with eager anticipation of what glorious delights would be waiting for us. Our spirits soon took a dive when we saw the meager assortment that was waiting for us.

    Not only was there barely enough food for 6, let alone 16 hungry people, but there was almost no cutlery or crockery either. The cereals ran out in the first couple of minutes. This was perhaps just as well as there were no bowls left to put the cereal into. The six slices of ham did not go far either. Although there was still some orange juice, the glasses were smaller than an egg cup, meaning that it was all gone in a single swallow. The owner simply did not seem to appreciate that anything was wrong, even when people had to resort to eating from dirty crockery.

    We looked at each other, wondering whether we were about to witness some sort of miracle of the loaves and fishes. Unfortunately miracles were in short supply and so most of the group went hungry. The owner even struggled to supply us with hot coffee - our staple heart starter for the morning. If it had been an episode of Masterchef, I would have scored the breakfast a 2/10. The only pleasing thing was the lovely crunchy baguettes.

    Although the breakfast was a letdown, our group was in high spirits at the prospect of a lovely ride along the Loire. The early morning weather was cool and fresh, a far cry from the scorching days we had so recently spent in Caumont.

    On the way out of Charite, we stopped at the local Boulangerie to buy some sandwiches and cakes for a picnic lunch by the river. At least we then knew that we would not go hungry during the day.

    The first part of the ride took us out of the town and back across the Loire. The most obvious feature of this part of the city was how neglected the ancient buildings were. Most of the houses looked like they had been deserted, giving the place the feeling of a ghost town.

    We were soon comfortably cruising along an elevated levee bank. We had no real need to hurry as the day's ride was relatively short. It was wonderful to be able to just savour the moment, stopping for pictures along the way. We knew that there would be very few opportunities to purchase food or drinks along the way, however the guide book promised that there would be a cafe at the little town of Pouilly.

    Although we initially rode a short distance past the turnoff, we did eventually make our way across the long bridge and found the promised coffee shop. It gave us a wonderful chance to chat with a group of fellow travellers and laugh with the owner. He asked where we were riding to. When we told him we were going to Sancerre, he rolled his eyes and pointed upwards with his hands. It turned out to be a very accurate prediction of what lay ahead for us.

    After our morning tea stop we continued for another few km, looking for a suitable place for our picnic lunch. We were very happy to discover a lovely spot, right on the river bank. It was the perfect place to eat our baguettes and enjoy the rising temperature.

    When we caught our first glimpses of Sancerre we could see that the final few km were never going to be easy. The city was prominently situated, right on the crest of a distinctive hill. A very steep hill. The ebike riders were not daunted, the rest of us shook our heads in fear and dismay.

    Although the early climb was modest, the road took an abrupt left hand turn, sending us directly up the side of the mountain. The gradient would have been at least 16% or more. I could have risked a heart attack by trying to ride up it, but I could think of no good reason to do so. I stopped and started to walk. When I looked back I found that almost everyone else had done the same thing. As it turned out only two of the ebike riders (Maggie and Sue) had managed to complete the first part of the climb without dismounting, the rest of us decided to ride "Shank's pony" instead.

    As we walked our way slowly up the climb, the views opened up behind us. Although it was really hard work, the location was breathtaking (yes, literally breathtaking). A short time later we reached our hotel - the Clos St Martin, and were able to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring this beautiful hilltop city. Once our heart rates had settled a little, we all agreed that the effort was really worth it. How priveleged we were to be able to experience such a glorious part of the world.
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  • Day 23

    Things go Downhill Rapidly

    September 12, 2019 in France ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

    I suppose that there are several ingredients for a great ride. These would include favourable weather, amazing scenery, good friends to share the ride with, an absence of punctures and a glorious downhill. Today's ride had all of these things. It also had another ingredient that I would rather we had gone without. That unwelcome ingredient was a crash. To make matters even worse, I was the one that crashed.

    The day began well enough. We left the hotel and climbed back up to the main sqaure of Sancerre where the cafe had agreed to make us baguette sandwiches for lunch. When the whole peloton had obtained their lunch supplies, all we had to go was head down the same very steep hill that had almost done us all in yesterday.

    At first I started walking the bike, but I am not the most patient man in the world and thought it would be better to ride instead. I started to scoot the bike and tried to throw my hind leg over the seat. It was at that point that my life started to flash before my eyes. I managed to get the leg partway over before the seat of my cycling knicks caught on the saddle. With the combination of the very steep descent and the fact that I was involved in some sort of macabre embrace with the bike, things quickly escalated. Although I tried to maintain some sort of dignity and control, after a period of bicycle contortions, I fell over the handlebars and crashed heavily to the road. It was not my finest hour.

    I lay on the road for some time, trying to disentangle my arms and legs from the wheels, chains and handlebars of the bike. Somehow we seemed to have become fused together. Gradually I staggered back up to my feet and examined the carnage. I had taken a large impact to my left knee and managed to collect some of the road gravel in it. The rear of my right thigh was also scraped and I had other assorted cuts and abbrasions over the rest of my body. Not such a bad result under the circumstances.

    The bike had also taken a hit and the front light had been smashed right off its bracket. We managed to secure it witgh a motley assortment of bandages and tape. I tried to assure the others that it was "only a flesh wound" and that I was fir to continue the ride.

    I did manage to complete the rest of the ride, but by the time we reached our hotel in Briare I was conscious of the fact that my left knee had completely stiffened up. This is the same knee that had given me grief in the Baltics and it had taken several weeks to get better again. It now appears that I am back to square one.

    Apart from my unfortunate early malfunction, the rest of the day's ride went without a hitch. The cycling was some of the most delightful any of us had ever experienced. The early focal point was the huge nuclear power plant that we had been able to see from the hilltop of Sancerre. One of the massive cooling towers was blasting a continuous jet of steam high into the atmospehere. No matter how you feel about nuclear power stations, the jet of steam was certainly an impressive sight.

    The towers themselves were so huge that it was very hard to tell just how far away they were. It seemed to take us most of the morning to reach them, but we finally reached the power plant surrounded with heavily armoured perimeter fencing. Large signs warned that taking photos was prohibited (but we cheated ever so little on that point).

    We also managed to find perfect spots for morning tea and lunch. Even more remarkable was our find of a lovely little cafe for afternoon tea. The owner had obviously been celebrating for most of the day and seemed more interested in dancing to his loud music than in serving us. We also discovered that he could not speak French - only Spanish. He did manage to rip me off for about twice the normal rate for a bottle of water and a coke. Such is life.

    Late in the afternoon we reached the beautiful town of Briare, best known for its elevated canal over the Loire. We also discovered that the streets and bridges of the city are liberally decorated with lovely flowering plants. Since I cannot keep any plant alive for longer than about two weeks, I was amazed that the flowers throughout the entire town were all flourishing.

    In the evening we all dined al fresco at the Le Clos des Aromes restaurant. This is one of the very best restaurants in the town and we quickly learnt how they earned that coveted accolade. Their food was simply divine.
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  • Day 24

    The Chateaux are Starting

    September 13, 2019 in France ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C

    The crash I suffered yesterday had obviously done something horrible to my left knee. All night whenever I rolled over in bed I was awakened by the pain involved in having to relocate my leg to somethingf approaching a comfortable position. I started to have serious worries about how I would cope with the cycling over the next few days. The problem with this type of trip is that there is no "Plan B" - each day it is our responsibility to get ourselves and our bikes to the next hotel. On the other hand I have discovered that you never really discover what you are capable of until you are put to the test.

    The day began promising enough. A glance at the sky showed that we would be in for another absolutely cloudless day. It is incredible that we have not seen a drop of rain since we arrived in France over three weeks ago. One of the locals explained it like this "We need rain, but we don't want it". A typically French attitude.

    The town of Briare is an absolutely picture perfect treasure. No town has a right to be this beautiful. It makes it impossible to travel more than a few metres without stopping to take a picture. Russell had been chosen as our ride leader for the day, a task he took to with enthusiasm. It was not really his fault that he managed to lead us into a dead end within 5 minutes of leaving the hotel. These sorts of things can happen to even professional cycling guides.

    The undoubted early highlight was the Pont Canal. This ornate iron structure carries the water of the Canal Lateral de la Loire over the top of the Loire itself. For a long time it was the longest such elevated canal bridge in the world, but it has now been exceeded by the new canal bridge in Magdeburg, Germany.

    As we made our way across the pont bridge, my main concern was to avoid falling in the stagnant waters. I was having great difficulty in starting and stopping and had to evolve a completely new (and absolutely unsightly) method for getting my damaged body onto the bike. To my relief I did discover that, once I was underway, I could pedal without too much discomfort.

    Once we found our way out of the town, Russell caught the wind in what was left of his hair and raced ahead. That guy is a real pocket rocket when he decides to be and he was obviously relishing his new job at the front of the peloton. I was also relishing my new role somewhere at the back of the group. It was good to be able to just follow the rider ahead without worrying where we had to go.

    The next amazing sight was the huge medieval city of Gien. Although we did not cross the wide arched bridge to enter the city itself, the view from the opposite bank of the Loire was superb. We also found it to be an ideal place to stop for coffee (actually two, as it was so good). Gordon also found it an ideal place to stage his own crash. Apparently he had been so captivated by the view on the opposite bank, that he missed seeing the curb and performed a slow motion pirouette into the bitumen. A few minutes later, the women had managed to bandage his bleeding elbow and make him look like a cycling leper.

    We then found ourselves riding within clear view of another massive nuclear station. This one had not two, but four huge cooling towers, three of which were belching clouds of white steam into the air.

    Russell somehow managed to find a lovely spot for our picnic lunches, complete with seats and a water view. After lunch we completed the ride along a lovely sealed bike path on an elevated levee bank.

    Our destination for the day was the town of Sully Sur Loire, dominated by the huge Chateau de Sully Sur Loire. It was our first taste of a genuine castle and a great foretaste for the large numbers of such building swe will see over the next week or so.

    After checking into the very comfortable Hotel Burgevin, we had plenty of time to explore the local area and have a closer look at the Chateau. My knee had survived its first real test and I was hoping that things would improve from now on.

    Our evening meal was at the stangely named Aux P'tits Oignons restaurant. It was a tiny place, run by a French couple. He did all the cooking and she did all the serving. Neither of them spoke a single word of English, but the food was sensational. On the way home we walked the silent streets of Sully under a brilliant full moon, It might have been Friday the 13th, but we felt like the luckiest people on the planet.
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  • Day 24

    A Message from the Portland Ghostriders

    September 13, 2019 in France ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    I have previously mentioned that, when we were on the L'Estello barge in Provence, we were joined by three American riders from Portland Oregon. Although we teased them mercilessly, it was actually great fun to have them share the ride with us. Their good humour meant that they could easily fit in with the silliness that was a feature of every day's ride and every evening meal.

    One of the Portland ladies has sent me the following account which I am happy to include in our blog.

    "A noisy group -especially when playing PIG! They said they could hear us on the other boat! When I first met the Ghost Riders, I wondered how the week would go, but I felt welcome from the start, and I even became an honorary member. I learned many new words, like “chevis” and “as useful as a one-ended stick.” Dennis made sure I learned about Australia, but luckily he forgot about the promised “test at the end.” I can’t believe there have been over 42 Ghost Rider trips and hope your trip through the Loire Valley is as wonderful as it sounds!!

    Let me know if you would consider coming to Oregon for an official trip -we have bike tours through the gorge that are spectacular, mid-summer are our Cycle Oregon weekends, and mid-September is our legendary, week-long Cycle Oregon; I would love to host a visit for you to the new Oregon Chapter! I had so much fun with all of you, and I have many found memories and pictures. I hope to ride with you again -let me know if there’s an opening for your Cuba trip! I wish you all the best and hope to come to Melbourne someday and ride with you again!!

    Until we meet again-Mira Vowels, honorary Ghost Rider"

    Thank you Mira, it was our pleasure to share those few days with you and your fellow Americans. Who knows, maybe one day we will be able to take you up on your offer of riding in your part of the world.
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  • Day 25

    In the City of St Jeanne d'Arc

    September 14, 2019 in France ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

    Ever since we first arrived in France, over three weeks ago, one of the main topics of conversation has been the lack of rain . Paris has had no rain for almost a month and large areas of the country are suffering water restrictions. In a country where floods are far more common than droughts, this has created some degree of anxiety among the locals.

    The lack of rain might not be so good for the people of France, but it has certainly made our cycling easier. We have not had a single wet day, and it is looking like there will be no rain for at least the next week. This is a huge contrast to the last time that the Ghostriders were in this region, back in 2015.

    On that ride we endured one of the toughest days in the saddle that the Ghostriders have ever suffered. The rain started before we rode out of our hotel in Orleans and continued unabated for the entire day. The temperature was in the single digits, meaning that we were all in danger of severe hypothermia. I remember that David Yate's face and hands had turned an interesting shade of blue and we all began to wonder whether he would actually survive the day.

    The most memorable event occured when we were gathered in an open cornfield, trying to repair one of the many punctures that were also part of that incredible day. We heard a noise coming towards us like the sound of a hundred speeding locomotives. It was a most dramatic squall that was cutting its way through the field and heading straight for us. We were already as wet as we could possibly be and about as cold as a mountain climber on the summit of Everest, but the approaching storm filled us with dread.

    Riders huddled together, trying to find protection from the sleet and freezing wind, as the storm front roared right over our heads. It was something we will never forget. When we arrived at our hotel, we all sought any means possible to restore some warmth to our bodies - sit in the bathtub, stand under the shower, cuddle the radiator, etc, etc.

    It is clearly obvious as we ride alongside the, greatly reduced, Loire River, that we are are in no imminent danger of saturation or frostbite on this ride. The fields are much browner than usual and each day the sun shines from a cloudless sky. Any form of rain seems a very remote possibility.

    Yesterday we rode from our overnight stay at Sully to arrive at the major city of Orleans. Although it was long ride, the favourable weather conditions made it not as tiring as it should have been . The day was also notable for the fact that I made the bold decision to put the leadership duties in the hands of two women - Sam and Kay. I would have to say that they actually did a great job, and we found that we got lost no more frequently than we did when a man was leading.

    Carol and Maggie took on the role of "tail end Charlies" and seemed to spend most of the ride laughing together and taking pictures. They did observe that Vicki was the best behaved rider when riding in heavy traffic. She was awarded a special "safe rider" award at the evening meal.

    Orleans is a large city of around 400,000 people. It is most famous for being the home of the famous Joan of Arc. Nowadays her name and image is everywhere throughout the city. This is where we will also have our first rest day during our Loire Ride. I have well learned how p[opular and vital these rest days are to restore morale and energy during extended rides.

    In the evening we dined at the L'Ardoise Restaurant. We had been allocated an upstairs room, presumably to stop us disturbing the other diners. Our waitress was a lively young lady who was wearing a very short skirt which amply revealed a pair of very long shapely legs. The men folk all began wishing they were fifty or so years younger. That was until we heard the way she regularly yelled strings of obscenities at her hidden husband in the kitchen. She also spent the entire evening running up and down the long narrow staircase, carrying dishes to our 16 diners and also to the 30 or so downstairs patrons as well. It was a herculean effort in anyone's language.

    Dining in France is always something of a theatrical experience. You cannot apply the same assessment criteria that you would in Australia. Sometimes it is best to just relax and learn to live by their rules and customs. After all, that is why we came to this country in the first place. The food itself was superb, but it was the entertaining performance of the waitress that we will all remember, long after the trip is over.
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  • Day 26

    Enjoying our Day of Rest in Orleans

    September 15, 2019 in France ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C

    Even in a large cosmopolitan city like Orleans, Sundays are quite different from every other day of the week. We have become so accustomed to shops being open 7 days a week, that there is something refreshing about a country that still has enough self belief to put family life ahead of non stop commerce.

    Our rest day in Orleans happened to coincide with the traditional "day of rest" in France. As we walked the streets near our hotel, we found them almost deserted. Most of the shops were shut and shuttered. It even looked like the huge articulated trams that had been passing back and forth every few minutes on the previous day, had also stopped running. In fact we did not see a single tram all day.

    Fortunately the coin laundry was open and we made good use of its facilities to catch up on all our laundry backlog. This is always a very important survival skill when you are undertaking an extended bike ride. We returned to our hotel with our laundry bags full fo freshly laundered clothes and a feeling of relief that we would be able to cope for the next few days at least.

    We did not have any ambitious plans for the remainder of our time in this city. While some choose to frantically rush hither and fro, looking at every major historical site, we are not that type of tourist. I even avoid those well known "hop on, hop off" bus services, as I really hate being crammed together with a crowd of people, all wearing those dreadful headphones. I would much rather spend my time wandering the place to get my own feeling for the city.

    The most obvious thing we found was that the entire city was in the process of getting ready for a Festival of the Loire, due to start in three day's time. Along the river a long line of marquis were being erected. Banners were hung along all the main streets and the spectacular floral displays looked to be in full bloom. It was a bit of a shame that we would not be here for the festivities, but we have a schedule to keep downriver.

    Although I had been here twice previously, on those occasions we did not have any spare time at all. Today we were able to walk the central part of the town and make our own discoveries. Unfortunately the hot sun also meant that it soon became uncomfortably hot for exploring and so we returned to the relative comfort of our hotel room. It was there we discovered that somehow a mistake had been made in the room reservations. Although we all staying here for two nights, a change in the hotel management had somehow changed the booking to one night only. This could have been a disaster, but fortunately they had enough spare capacity to make sure that no one had to spend the second night in the bike garage.

    Tomorrow we resume our cycling along the Loire as we ride to the nearby city of Beaugency.
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  • Day 27

    What a Difference Sunshine Makes

    September 16, 2019 in France ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

    All those who took part in our 2015 ride from Orleans to Le Croisic will never forget the first day on the bikes as we rode out of Orleans. It has been indelibly etched on our memories as one of the coldest, wettest and darkest days we have ever spent on our bikes.

    On that occasion the rain fell continuously from the moment we left the Oceania Hotel in Orleans, the temperature never left single digits and the punctures came in regular bursts (pardon the pun). It was a indeed a bleak day.

    Forur years later to the day, the conditions could not have been more different. The sunshine was unbroken for the entire day (actually it has been unbroken for the entire time we have been in France). The temperature hovered in the mid twenties and as for punctures ? We don't know what punctures are any more - these bikes are unbreakable. All of these factors made for a very enjoyable (and relatively short) ride.

    Our first challenge was to get out of Orleans. I had made the foolish decision to allow the women some shopping time before we got on the bikes. Since most of the shops had been shut yesterday, they were showing definite signs of shopping deprivation. I gave them definite instructions that they would need to be back to start the ride by 10 am. That must have gone straight over their heads as they started to slowly (but happily) drift (or is it doidle ?) back with their bulging bags of treasures.

    As least the women were happy, but their husbands almost certainly won't be when they get the credit card statements. Sometime around 10.30 we were finally ready to leave the city. Maggie had said that she knew a good way to reach the bike path, so I handed her control of the peloton. To my surprise, her route actually worked and we were soon all safely back on the Loire a Velo bike path.

    As we made our way along the bike path it felt good to be back on somewhat familiar territory. I had ridden this part twice before - in 2013 and 2015. It felt even better to be able to enjoy it in perfect conditions. The kilometres quickly slipped by. The riders happily chatted together as they rode along. After our rest day in Orleans it actually felt good to be back on the bikes and resuming our ride along the Loire.

    I guess the only somewhat sad note to the ride is the low level of the water in the river. It is painfully obvious that the lack of rain has severely reduced the flow of water and the usually majestic Loire River is only a much reduced version of its normal self.

    Since we had a short ride, our plan had been to stop in Meung Sur Loire for morning tea and then continue to Beaugency for a late lunch. The only problem was then we arrived in Meung, most of the shops were closed for Monday. (Yes Monday is a bit like a second Sunday here). We searched for coffee in vain. Just as we were about to give up, we were spied by an elderly lady who asked in very broken English what we were looking for. Apparently she had not spoken English since she had been in school, but she did reasonably well.

    When she realised that we were looking for coffee, she explained that she knew a place. We were instructed to follow her. So off we went.

    "It's about 100 metres", she explained. (That was a lie). We went up and down hills, through narrow alleyways, around roundabouts, etc, etc. We looked at each other, wondering just where she was taking us, I just hoped that she wasn't the famous poisoning Frenchwoman who was leading us all back to her house.

    "You will have to forgive me, I am very old" , she explained. I thought that she must be at least 90 or so to be making such slow progress, but she went on to add "Yes I am 71 years old ". Crikey at that rate she would have been one of the youngest in the Ghostriders. We shuffled on and on. I was just glad that Maggie and I had both updated our wills before this trip started.

    Just when we were all about to give up, she finally led us around a blind corner and VOILA, there was a cafe. Although we were told that they had no milk at first, all came good in the end and we were able to enjoy our cappucinos after all. Crisis averted and another wonderful insight into the French psyche. It will be recorded in our memories as one of the highlights of the ride.

    Our home for this evening is the L'Ecu de Bretagne" Hotel. It is the same place I had stayed in twice previously, although it was the first time I had the doubtful privelege of having a room on the top floor. With no lifts in the place, scoring a top floor room is like being allocated a poison chalice. After dragging our suitcases up the narrow winding staircase I felt like the mythical Sisyphus who was condemned to spend all eternity rolling a massive stone to the top of a huge hill, only to see it roll down to the bottom again every night.

    In the evening we all shared what will surely become the most memorable dinner of the trip. The restaurant had set up a huge outdoor table for us in the central part of the town. We watched the sky change colour from blue to pink to purple as we ate and chatted together. The food was amazing, buit it was the location that was pure magic.
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  • Day 28

    Goodbye Leonardo

    September 17, 2019 in France ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    Five hundred years ago, in 1519, one of the greatest geniuses the world has ever known breathed his final breath. In the same year, a short distance away, work began on a hunting lodge for the reigning king - Francois the FIrst. That lodge is now known as the Chateau de Chambord, the largest of all the chateaux in the Loire Valley. Although it is the largest, it is certainly not the most beautiful.

    When I first laid eyes on this building in 2013, I thought that it looked like the work of a manic imagination. I have now seen it twice since and my opinion has not changed. There is no argument that it is a collosal work of engineering, but the scale and opulence do little to make up for the sheer lack of any sort of good taste.

    It took many years and an incredible amount of money and resources to construct, but it is worth noting that Francois only spent a total of 7 weeks there. After his death it was left abandoned for 80 years. It proved to be unpopular and highly impractical for either a hunting lodge or a place of residence and it is easy to see why.

    The enormous rooms were impossible to heat and all the furnishings and decorations were taken away whenever the king was not in residence. Its existence is just another example of the way that French royalty lived in a profligate fantasy world, completely removed from their poor subjects. The sheer ego and arrogance of Francois is reflected in the way that his iniitial F is prominently displayed everywhere in the design.

    And what exactly was the role of Leonardo da Vinci ? The scholars seem divided on how much input the aging Leonardo had in the design of Chambord, but the consensus seems to be that the distinctive double helix staircase was his idea. It is certainly the most startling feature of the building and one that would be worthy of the creative genius of the great man himself. The architects who designed the rest of the monstrosity have very little to be commended for.

    Our ride today took us from Beaugency to Blois and the Chateau de Chambord was the most significant highlight of the day. Earlier in the morning we had ridden past our third nuclear power station of the trip so far. This one had the same huge cooling towers that we have become familiar with, although it was a little disconcerting that it also seemed to be leaking steam from the base of one of the towers as well.

    Perhaps it was because of the excellent navigational skills of Gordon, or maybe it was because we are all getting stronger each day. Whatever the reason, we managed to complete the day's ride without even raising a sweat. We were also pleased to be staying in the modern Mercure Hotel, right on the banks of the Loire. When we stayed here in 2015, our hotel had been unkindly situated right at the highest part of the city. We were very thankful to be spared that final climb.

    Blois (pronounced like Loire, but with a B at the start) is a beautiful city with a lovely old bridge spanning the river. The most striking feature of the inner city area is the huge staircase that has now been decorated with a reproduction of the famous Mona Lisa.
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