When I arrived in St Girons last night I collected the keys as instructed but found the flat had not been prepared. A very apologetic young man knocked on the door and set to work making the bed and clearing “stuff”. It was apparent that nobody had been in the flat for a while as the sofas were very damp but shutters and windows opened soon remedied that and I was left with some coffee for the morning as a peace offering. I wasn’t too bothered and brought the bike into the flat and did the usual offices before wandering out into the town. Saint Girons is built on two sides of the River Salat but both sides are well serviced with restaurants: I chose Thai and it was very good. By the look of it a frenchman had acquired a Thai bride and they were making a living together. I wandered down to the river after my meal and took some pictures.
Back to the flat to write the blog and watch the last 20 minutes of the French rubbing Kiwi noses in the dirt to start their world cup campaign on a high.
This morning was set fair again and, as it was Saturday there was a market in town.
It was extremely busy full of produce stalls with a particular emphasis on Bio dynamic vegetables and cheeses of all shapes and sizes. I bought a croissant, pain au raisin and a bacon roll and added a small round of washed cheese and took it back to the flat where I enjoyed it with a pomelo I bought in the fruit shop and a cup of Earl Gray. A good start to the day.
As I was packing up to leave at 1030 the owner of the flat, a very elegant lady turned up to apologise for the mix up on arrival. She was originally from Lille but had moved to St Girons to be near her sister and enjoyed the good weather so much that she had stayed and acquired the flat for a bit of income. She took my picture alongside the bike and, no doubt, will tell her friends about the mad 74 year old Englishman who stayed in her apartment. It was nice to chat but I needed to be on the road for a hard days climbing before I could book into my next hotel at 5pm.
The first twenty miles were a steady climb up the valley of the Salat river and I did not use the motor at all. Just a good steady rhythm made for easy cycling through the tree clad valley.
and it wasn’t until I stopped for a drink and, on resuming, nearly took out an unexpected cyclist approaching from behind that I blipped the motor button. The climb grew steadily steeper and I had the motor going at minimum level all the way to the top of Col Agnes at 1580 metres. I passed a herd of cows playing a bucolic symphony on their bells. They looked extremely well and the young calves with them had great shape.
On the way to the summit I passed the Etang de Lers a curious little mountain lake that is apparently home to the Pyrennean desman, a small endangered rodent
There were a lot of visitors at the cafe above the lake but I moved on after a brief look for water to top up my bottles. I stopped beside the lake and a Dutch couple who are travelling by camper van offered to take my picture with a back drop of very healthy looking cows.
From the lake there was a hard 300 metre climb to the top of the pass and I was very glad of the motor, although, even on its lowest setting, I was eating up the battery. I only used it for about 30 miles but there was barely 20% left by the end of the journey. The next three days will test it further but hopefully I won’t run out at any point.
The view from the top is spectacular and strangely reminded me of the Blyde River Canyon in South Africa because of the way the ground dropped away. Pictures don’t do it justice but here’s one anyway
The descent was fast and hard on the brakes which were beginning to smell by the time I reached the village of Aulus-les Bains, a thermal resort 7 miles below that sits at about 700 metres. I followed my erstwhile Dutch pals down, keeping up with them all the way to the village.
The climbing wasn’t over: I still had to negotiate the Col de Latrape a further 365 metres over a distance of 5 kms. It was thirsty work and I was glad to have found a fountain in Aulus to fill my bottles.
Climbing over for the day I whizzed down the other side pausing to take a picture of the fork in the road leading up to the Ski resort of Guzet Neige where I skied on a couple of occasions with friends who have chalets there.
It was now about 5 miles to my final destination the Auberge du Haut Salat in Seix and I arrived there at about 4.30pm. The bar was doing brisk business and I booked in and sorted myself out. Lots more climbing tomorrow but tonight a couple of beers some food and a good nights sleep.
