Days 18 and 19 2017

            Day 18 and hotter than day 17!  Hard to imagine, close to 100!  The heat and wind were oppressive like Stalin and Idi Amin rolled into one.  I did grow enough brain cells to start off earlier, much closer to 8:00. 

At the campgrounds I must leave the battery, the computer, the camera, and the I-Pod in public places, usually the washrooms, to charge.  Having had one I-Pod stolen on my trip with Aaron, I am more cautious.  My trust depends on the goodness of others.  On the bike it is the same.  How watchful are the drivers? 

Paranoia pops up while hunting for items around the campsite.  When a desired item cannot be found following a cursory search surprisingly suspect a theft.  This morning, after waking for a potty break, the toilet paper was absent.  Believe or not, the crazy thought thundered into a frontal lobe, “Goddam, someone stole my toiler paper!” 

This well cultivated farmland is sprinkled with immense grain elevators rising into the blue horizon like new cathedrals.  Fields of olden grain line one side of the road with acres of ripening sun flowers on the other.  The black and yellow blossoms of early bloomers wave above the sea of dark green.

This route was part of journeys taken in 2013 and 2014, once going north and once going south.  Several sites were a joy to see again, the world is immutable.

            The first stop in Doue-la-Fontaine yields a “Hardy” charging station in the 13^th century church.  While waiting, I enjoyed a light lunch and searched for Office de Tourisme.  The kind attendant suggested a biking path to Thouars that added an hour and several kilometers, not my kind of arithmetic on this hot and windy day.  The common theme is to usher cyclists onto biking paths both for safety of the cyclists and the convenience of the cars and lorries.

            Next bead on the rosary was Le-Puy-Notre-Dame.  This small hilltop village continues to rest in the shadow of the medieval era with narrow winding streets and an impressive cathedral.  What a tremendous legacy the Catholic Church has left to the people of France!  Imagine a village this small having a cathedral this large!

            The large crucifixes in the countryside are more numerous than the WW I memorials in the villages.

            An hour later I cycled into the large city of Thouars.  The town stretched on, kilometer after kilometer.  Cars, trucks, and cyclists rumbled over the poorly maintained streets.  This cathedral was only slightly larger than the one in Le-Puy-Notre-Dame and was located across the street from the Office of Tourisme that was closed for the noon break.  I needed help clearing the town and would have to wait for the reopening at 2.  In the meantime I finished my lunch outside the church while the battery recharged inside near the altar.  A pilgrim asked about the battery.

            A cluster of pitch and timber houses, one with a dangerous tilt, mixed in with more recent construction.  Two vivacious young ladies sat outside a brassiere while two older gentlemen relaxed over beers at a nearby bistro.

            Out of town I was back on familiar territory, one extremely busy road and one marvelous biking road leading to Jean-Louis home south of Saint-Generoux.  His idyllic house is wedged between a chalky cliff and a fast flowing stream.  He found this place in the 80’s and fell in love immediately.  The place fits him like a glove, unlike O.J. Simpson’s. 

            He was not home when I arrived.  He had left the kitchen door open.  A huge blackbird or crow fluttering about in the kitchen startled me.  This was not Alain’s cute little lovebirds.   

This kind man had rescued the bird after falling from a nest.  The bird eats from his hand and sits on his shoulder like a parrot.  He flies away but continues to return.  Jean-Louie expects that in three weeks he will not.

            Jean-Louie is the older brother of Marie-Line and Isabelle.  He is the age of my younger brother Jim, born in 1951.  In his 20’s he hitchhiked by himself to India.  He has returned several times.  He has sailed across the Atlantic and Mediterranean.  After working for years in the health industry he retired on a full pension. Like his sisters he does not have any children.  This portion of the Baudron family will end with this generation.  He is a wonderful conversationalist and our talks are always immensely enjoyable.

            The last day’s journey, the 19^th day, was the longest of the tour, almost 50 miles.  The route flowed south through Airvault, St. Loup-s-Thouet, St-Maixent-l’Ecole, and Creche before ending in Fressines.  Most of the roads were country paths with little traffic.  Only the road into Creche was problematic with impatient cars and trucks darting by like wasps searching for prey.

            The good news was that the temperature dropped several degrees under overcast skies.  Even the wind had lessened.  Both conditions featured good cycling and I made excellent time the entire day.

            The small church in La Peyratte was open.  The battery was recharged and I finished the salad and one of the beers that Jean-Louis had packed.  I arrived in Fressines easily inside the deadline of 4:00. 

            Friday’s dinner was hosted by Philippe and Veronique and shared with Serge and Marie-Line.  The four of them are visiting California from the 5^th of July to the 17^th.  Her house is a clever renovation of three smaller homes from the late 19^th century teeming with nooks and crannies.

            Saturday I forced myself to stay off the bike.  Isabelle and I went looking for a part for my VW camper.  Parts for this vintage of camper are extemely difficult to find in the US.  A similar story holds true for France.  The friendly clerk said that these campers are much in demand.  To illustrate his point he brought up a listing for a one-year younger model, 1990, for 29000 euros.  Besides being a year younger, a diesel engine, an awning, and fewer miles boosted the value.   

            Then we were off to Les Halles for special shopping, fish, cheese, mussels, oysters, and tomatoes.  We also checked the clothing stalls for the colorful African pants that I covet.  Sadly, nothing matched my expectation.

            Saturday evening we feasted with Marie-Line and Serge.  The 22 pounds lost on the tour are coming back too quickly.  We also played a fun game of TAC TIX.  The game is sold only on line and goes for 108 euros.  A limited number of orders are taken annually as each set is handcrafted.

            Sunday, I was back on the bike for a short hour and a half circuit.  Without the trailer I sailed along in high gear barely using the electricity.

Dinner was with friends of Isabelle and Gerard, Alain from across the road and John-Paul and Lizette from farther away.  Before dinner the four men played a team game of Boules.  At first, I felt sorry for Alain since he was saddled with me.  Unbelievably, he and I did a Rocky Balboa and pulled out an exciting win, 13-12.  At one point we were down 9 to 2.  Gerard and Jean-Paul were tough competitors but gracious losers.  Alain is an excellent player.  I was pleased that I could contribute a little to our success.

Isabelle did her “simple” once again.  This time it included a mountain of mussels deliciously prepared in onions and white wine.  She would be a great success in a restaurant.  She says that she would not enjoy preparing food for strangers.  She enjoys sharing her talents with family and friends.

Off to Paris tomorrow!

Much joy!!

Hardy                 

Days 15 to 17 2017

            Did I beat myself up today!  These were the double days of the legendary Bear Bryant.  These are the hot days of August times 10.

            In Guer, the energetic young lady at the desk mapped out a ride to Martigne.  Halfway I was very concerned about the battery.  The clerk at the Intermarche graciously set up the charger and the battery in her office.   It was a wise move since the climbs had depleted 75% of the power

            While I lunched and napped the battery came back to life.  I was off under a cloudless sky. Today, Brother Wind enlisted the help of Brother Sun with temperatures soaring into the high 80’s and low 90’s.  Together they pulled out all stops!

            Taking Aaron’s advice I hydrated and refueled often, towards the end of the trek every 3 or 4 miles.  By the time I made Martigne-Ferchaud I felt like one of those 40 mules pulling a Borax wagon in the Mojave Desert.  After paying the bill I collapsed at my site.  An hour later I struggled into the shower to rinse off the day.

            Fortunately, I kept moving because I was the last person allowed entry into the Intermarche.  I bought a delicious salmon concoction and a Guinness.

            For some reason heading back to Niort the trip becomes linear.  I really wanted to spend a night in the Abbey in Solesmes but now that is not possible.  The distance lost on Sunday cannot be made up.

            Instead I will cut the corner from Daon to Gennes and then from Gennes to the home of Jean-Louis in St. Generoux.

            There were numerous trucks on the road today.  The really scary behemoths pull two trailers.  Just as you exhale a sigh of relief the second section sweeps by. 

            I stopped twice to recharge the battery, part of my paranoia.  The first time was in a bar that cost a beer and the second time in a church.  Like on an Easter egg hunt I explored every nook and cranny in the church before finding a live plug near the organ.  I rested on the cool stone floor and napped for an hour as the battery built up a charge.

            Much of the battery is mental.  Will there be power at the end of day?  I will seriously consider buying a back up battery for next year.  

            Once again the two Brothers worked overtime trying their best to defeat this ageless warrior.  I did pull into port an hour earlier that left my brain only slightly scrambled.

            In the distance there is the sound of thunder or it could be the large lorries lumbering over the nearby bridge.  Although physically depleted I wisely setup the tent and put everything inside.  Within minutes the edge of the storm hit.  Giant drops of rain pelted the tent.  Then it was pulled off stage like an errant act in a minstrel show.  The air felt like wet laundry.

            The 17^th day was the hottest so far, nearly 95 degrees Fahrenheit or 35 degrees Celsius.  I took my noon break in Seicles.  The church was open and there was a live plug.  While the battery recharged I pedaled the town and found a grocery store.  The lady manager had finished rolling up the shutters but she kindly reopened.  I bought a delicious beef dish and a cold beer. 

            The camping was in the cute town of Gennes lying next to the Loire River.  I had stayed here four years ago.  The famous Loire Valley filled with many charming chateaus lies east of Gennes.  I took a swim in the Loire and was surprised how warm the water was.  The current was very strong and I had to be careful not to be swept downstream.  Later I discovered that swimming is “strictly” forbidden in the Loire because of the danger.

            I found dinner at a Super U.  The menu was a spectacularly tasteful chicken stew, a carrot salad, and a beer made by monks. 

            A Dutch couple from Amsterdam set up camp across the road.  The husband came over and offered wine.  They had picked up lentil soup at the same Super U.  They are both doctors and have two children.  They are touring along the length of the Loire from east to west. 

She also enjoyed long distance ice-skating.  Biking and skating, you cannot be more Dutch than that!  Last winter she suffered nerve damage in her lower right leg after a particularly arduous skate.  For this bike trip, she had bought an electric bike to compensate for her leg.  They are both in their middle 50’s and do about 50 km each day.  Sadly, having not recovered from the effects of the day, I had to excuse myself after an hour or so of conversation.  Oddly, full recovery comes about 2 in the morning shortly after my legs and feet finish cramping.

I hope that Aaron comes next year.  I would like to go to restaurants for an evening meal.  Eating alone in a restaurant causes a feeling of loneliness.  And with my electric wheel I could actually keep up with the magnificently conditioned Aaron!   

Much joy!!!

Hardy 

             

              

Day 14 2017

            Well that was a forgettable night!  The revelry was till going on at 2:30.  The silence of the night was punctuated by the cackling of young girls and by dreadful singing.  I finally gave up and sought sanctuary in shower area.  I slept soundly for two hours.  When I awoke for a potty break, quiet had returned.  I moved back to the shelter of the tent.  Unfortunately, I slept in until 8:30 that pushed the get off time back to 10:30. 

            The Office de Tourisme was closed for Sunday.  I really needed help looking for a campsite down the road.  There was the one 12 miles away but I had hoped to go farther.  David had recommended seeing a mechanical wonder, an astronomical clock constructed in the 19^th century by a monk.  I hunted high and low but failed to find the display.

            Cycling out of town I suddenly realized my cap had been left behind.  The cap was never found but good Karma bought about the astronomical clock.  It is truly a wonder!  With mathematical precision the monk has the planets and their moons moving in their correct orbits.  On the front of the exhibit there are 10 clock faces keeping track of various astronomical events.  The hand of one clock keeps track of the centuries and completes one revolution every 1000 years.  Not many of us will be around when that clock strikes twelve.  The entire apparatus is run by a single pendulum that has to be set each day.

            It was nearly 12:30 before I made the second exit out of town.  The excellent biking road sliced through a dense forest that included a military area.  The poor night’s sleep, hot weather, and steep grades burnt up my legs and battery.  I barely limped ahead the 12 miles to the next campsite.

            The campground has an exaggerated old west theme.  One wall is dedicated entirely to Clint Eastwood.  Another wall sports every cinema western star including Gabby Hayes.

            After a brief lunch and shower I fell asleep for 2 hours.  This camp had the best shower of the tour.  The shower head provided rain and six jets on the wall splashed the body.  And the water was unlimited, no pushing and re-pushing.

            Being Sunday I tried to relax and enjoy the inactivity.  In the back of my mind there is concern over making up these miles. 

            The managers walked by in the evening and mentioned stopping by the office in the morning to settle accounts.  They had a huge wedding celebration that occupied their attention all day.

            The clock was memorable!!!

Much joy!!!
Hardy

Days 12 and 13 2017

            The ride into Le Palais from Sauzon went smoothly.  The bad expectation is usually worse than the happening.  The crowd on the ferry was smaller and younger.  This was definitely the cycling and hiking group.  All were fit as a fiddle and sporting tans that the sun worshippers in Santa Monica would die for.  Backpacks were filled to the brim with pairs of walking sticks tied to the fragile frames.

            The straight rides up the isthmus from Quiberon to Plouharnel and then across to Auray were hairy ones.  Cars, trucks, and cyclists competed for the limited space on the only roads available.  After that it was back to biking roads sporting minimal traffic. 

            Wind!  What atmospheric conditions create wind?  Or is there a chubby faced cherub simply huffing and puffing gale like winds continually in my face?

Ode to Wind

Are you heaven sent?

Filling my sails?

Garnishing my hopes?

Or do you rise from below?

Dashing my dreams?

Heightening my woes?

            Sainte-Anne-d’Auray is a faint shadow of Lourdes.  The current sanctuary boasts a basilica and well tended gardens.  Several buildings are set aside for confessions.  500,000 pilgrims visit annually.  The apparition of Anne, the mother of Mary, grandmother to Jesus, occurred in the 17^th century.  Like Lourdes one can feel the holiness invested in this place.

            The attendant in the Office de Tourisme was a real people person and anticipated every question.  He found a campground 10 kms up the road in Monterblanc.  He further mentioned that the chateau in Josselin was worth seeing.

            The campground was five stars but reasonably priced and staffed by kind people.  They even provided free Internet.  The layout was extensive with a huge swimming pool, multiple water slides, a trampoline, a huge outdoor chess set, and a small zoo. 

In the evening, a solo parachutist floated down.  In the morning, several more colorful chutes opened up like colorful butterflies in the cloudless sky.

Heading toward Josselin I tried to time my arrival close to two when both the Office de Tourisme and the chateau would be open.  Lunch was in Plumelec.  I checked the bakery and the small market for specialty items to no avail.  For the first time I tried the butcherie and struck gold!  There was host of choices, all of them looking delicious.  I finally decided on a beef dish over a salmon concoction.  I added a salad.  The friendly clerk was so helpful I added a tip that she proudly displayed to the manager. 

The vivacious young lady at the Office de Tourisme okayed the charging of the bike battery.  The charge had been nearly used up on the steep grades in the morning.  The tours of the basilica and chateau took two hours that gave time for the battery to be 75% charged.

The chateau was magnificent.   One can certainly see where Randolph Hearst came up with ideas for his castle. Since the current owner lives in the upper floors, the tour only included the bottom floor.

Faced with two choices for camping, one ten miles away and the other 20 miles, and being nearly 4 o’clock, I decided the wise choice would be the closer one in Ploermel.

Now what happened is another unique happening for my tours.  While dealing with heavy traffic, one-way streets, and looking for the Office de Tourisme, I unintentionally went through a stoplight.  Unlike in America where the stoplights are at the corners, this stoplight was several yards back from the corner. 

I was quickly pulled over by a police van and confronted by three police people, one of them being a woman.  The young guy in charge motioned me over to the sidewalk.  Then he made like Mel Gibson and was in my face screaming at me.  It further frustrated him that I could not understand French.  First, the other male office started looking on his smart phone for a translation.  My, my, the Keystone Kops live on.   Finally and fortunately, a bystander stepped forward and offered assistance.

According to the translator the officer wanted to know if I wanted to die.  I wasn’t sure but I did not think that France had the death penalty and I was positive that running a stop sign would not warrant the guillotine. 

The translator suggested apologizing, which I did.  But the screaming continued.  I do not like bullies and I became very angry and few have seen me this angry.  Amazingly I remained coherent.  I started poking the man in the chest saying that I am an American and last week France celebrated the 63^rd anniversary of the landings at Normandy and thousands of Americans are buried in French soil so that he does not have speak German today.

The translator tried to keep up.  Slowly a puzzled look swept across the officer’s face.  I told him he had two choices, accept my apology or take me to jail.  The translator was enjoying every minute.  Finally, he said they just want you to calm down and you can go.

By this time we had attracted a legion of interested on lookers. Another police van with three more officers pulled up.  I might be John Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd rolled into one menacingly gangster.  Before leaving, I poked the bully one more time in the chest and said, “Good luck being human.”  The translator passed the message on with a smile but slightly worried that the messenger might be harmed.  There were a few claps from the crowd.  The police have a reputation for acting rudely.

The campground was on a lake with different water sports offered.  The attractive middle age host offered the use of the tables on the outside of the restaurant for dinner.  I had bought paella and a tomato-egg salad at the market in town.  However I did buy a tall beer from the bar that cost more than half the campsite.  I was somewhat befuddled as the waiter fished the coins out of my palm.

At the campsite I met three Brits, David and Margaret Robert and Pat Harris.  David is 76 and does not look older than 60.  He had been a teacher and is fact the first teacher I have ever met on these tours.   He has a son working soccer clubs in Columbus, Ohio.  He had been doing the same in Santa Rosa, Ca.

The campground is nice but crowded and noisy.  Pat Harris had the most interesting story going.  I collect stories like Valentino collected lovers.  She was from Jersey, one of the Channel Islands between France and England.  The Channel Islands were the only English land occupied by Germany during WW II.  Her Mother was 7 months pregnant with her when the Germans for distributing seditious literature arrested her father.  He was allowed to see her before being deported to Germany.  He later died while being transported from one prison to another in May 1945.  He was buried in a mass grave.  German civilians were forced to excavate their bodies by hand.  They were reburied in separate graves in a nearby town.

Recently, an academic researcher became intrigued by the story.  She formulated plan to find the grave of Pat’s father and the father of another Channel Island woman.  This lady was from Guernsey.  BBC financed the adventure and the search for their fathers was recently shown on BBC.

There is a crowd of young people on the beach and the raucous laughter of the young girls reverberates throughout the park.  I am typing this at 1:15 in the morning.

Much joy!!!
Hardy