Day 6 – Tour double

I tipped up at Les Deux Rives in Cierp-Gaud at about 4.30 as I had promised my host Ed earlier in the day. Ed and his sister Louise are Brits who bought Les Deux Rives as a shell about 6 years ago. It only took them 5 months to turn it into a B&B and since then they have entertained over 2000 guests. Louise has moved on to buy and convert a former nunnery further north leaving Ed to run Les Deux Rives on his own. As it was a Sunday I was worried about finding somewhere to eat but Ed provided an excellent three course meal, a simply delicious mozzarella and basil starter, chicken cacciatore and a very nice pear tart tatin to finish. A couple of beers and a glass of Merlot washed it all down. Also staying the night were a couple from Devon who were walking the GR10 – no, I didn’t know anything about it until last night – but, apparently, it is a recognised walking route the length of the Pyrenees that should take up to 55 days although it has been done in as little as 12. They have been on the go for about 4 weeks and have covered roughly half, staying in mountain refuges, hotels and B&Bs en route. They’ve run out of time and are shortly on their way home. Talking with them, it’s not something I could do, particularly descending serious inclines on foot – my knees wouldn’t take it. Anyway we had a pleasant chat whilst eating supper and then I went and got the computer and wrote the blog.

Ed provided an excellent breakfast – french in essence but with the addition of local cheese and ham and, unusually, a softish very well boiled egg, English breakfast tea and orange juice gave a good start to the day and I was on my way with full water bottles by 0908.

There was a 10 mile ride down the valley to Bageneres- de-Luchon to warm me up. Unfortunately instead of staying on the not very busy main road I diverted into a climb that needed engine assistance. I knew that it was going to be touch and go as to whether or not my battery would last the day so I could have done without that. Anyway I had to trust to luck.

As you can see the weather was changing: clouds in the sky and promise of thunder to come over the next couple of days. At Bagneres-de-Luchon my route turned west and the road rose enough to need the motor again. I was heading for the Col de Peyresourde, one of the iconic climbs in the Tour de France. It takes you in the direction of Peyragudes, one of the premier ski stations of the Pyreneees. Unfortunately the change in climate has led to a very short ski season in recent years: Ed informed me that it was now as short as four weeks, which hasn’t done much good for his winter bookings.

I came across this penny farthing sculpture that framed the climb to com.

The road was now steep enough to keep the motor going and I hoped that I would reach the top of the climb with, at least, 50% remaining to take me over the Col d’Aspin later in the day.

In the event I had about 60 % left by the top of the climb which gave me some reassurance.

It’s a TDF classic having been crossed almost 70 times. The road is wide and well paved and is not horrendously steep but I had to keep the motor running for comfort. The descent is easy, wide and without many sharp bends, joyful after the hard climb.

The descent takes you to Arreau, a thriving and pretty commune with plenty of bars, shops and restaurants and there were loads of tourists on the day I was there.

I stopped in Arreau to fill my water bottles; there is a rather ingenious system that I find hard to explain. There is a green hydrant with a handle on top that you wind and almost miraculously water appers from a spout. I imagine water is flowing through the system all the time and winding the handle diverts it to the spout. Whatever: I ended up with three bottles of cool clear water.

The next objective was the Col d’Aspin, again many times crossed in the TDF. I was ahead of time so, having experienced quite a lot of brake squeal I thought I would investigate before the descent of Aspin and, tomorrow, Tourmalet. I had some spare brake pads so pulled off the road and went to work. The pads weren’t too bad but I changed them anyway. It took me about half an hour and I set off in the knowledge that I should be OK for the descents to come.

The ascent of the Col d’Aspin is easy. I was expecting to have to use the motor early but , in the event, I reckon I could have made it without using the motor at all. However I got bored and, as I had plenty of spare power used it anyway. On the way up I came across this rminder of the TDF

and, a little further on one that I could hardly ignore

On my way up I was passed by a french grimpeur, I would guess in his 50’s or even 60 ‘s who kept ahead of me despite my motor: chapeau.

The sweep down to Peyrehitte, my destination for the night, was exhilarating. Safe in the knowledge of good brakes I pushed myself and arrived at my hotel before 4 pm. I’ve climbed more than I have ever done in a day before but I didn’t feel particularly tired. The legs are good and should get me over Tourmalet tomorrow before the forecast thunderstorms hit.

Day 5 – West through the mountains

The Auberge Haut Salat, as its name suggests sits beside the Salat river in the market village of Seix. There’s probably 80 odd houses, a couple of shops, at least one bar and a couple of restaurants, so a sizeable community for the Pyrenees. The Auberge Haut Salat has a bar that was humming when I arrived and continued to be quite busy until 8pm. They serve Tapas style food with the drink but I decided I wanted something more substantial so went next door to Les Deux Saveurs which had an acceptable looking menu.

Saveur translates as flavour or taste and I couldn’t quite work out why only two of them – maybe it was a reference to food and drink. I didn’t ask. I started with a salad Bergeres which was a substantial melange of salad veg with local cheese and ham and a bit of melon thrown in. It was well dressed and tasty and I polished it off with a pint of Kronenburg. I haven’t eaten a steak for ages but decided an entrecote was the right choice and I was very glad as it was cooked á point as ordered and had a pepper sauce. More salad and some extremely good chips filled the plate and having polished that off I decided I’d finish with creme brulee. It was a good if somewhat expensive meal and I went off to the blog feeling full.

Breakfast at the Haut Salat majored on local produce. There was apple, butter, cheese and ham all locally produced, The croissant and bread from the local baker. It was substantial and good though expensive at 13 euros. The room was very rustic with wooden furniture but was large and the shower room was modern with an effective shower and the bed comfortable although I slept badly probably because of a late supper.

I was packed and away by 0936, as the Sunday morning market was being set up in the Square opposite the hotel, with two full bidons and an extra 1.5 litre bottle of water which straps neatly to one of the panniers. It was forecast hot and, with the climbing I was about to do, it seemed wise. I was immediately into some substantial climbing. I used the legs as far as I could but after a couple of miles the motor went on until I reached the Col de Catchadegue, about 5 miles into the journey.

It had been hard work but the views looking back down the hill made it worthwhile: unfortunately the sun was directly in my face so the pictures were not worth publishing.. Rapidly down through the forest and into the next climb up to the Col de Portech, about 10 miles into the journey, not quite so steep but I still needed the motor.

Five miles of steep descent down to the valley floor at Saint-Martin where I crossed the River Lez and joined a more major road for about five miles. There was a steadyish incline for the next ten miles which needed a blip on the motor every now and then. I looked forward at what I would probably climb later in the day.

At St Lary the proper climbing started.

This was the foot of the Col de Portet Aspet, a climb that has been used more than 30 times in the Tour de France. I found a fountain at the foot of the climb and filled the bottles with cold clear water. It’s about four miles from base to summit but is relentless and the motor stayed on all the way, although I kept it in its lowest setting. I stopped a couple of times to drink and rest the legs but I still felt pretty shattered at the top.

My admiration for professional cyclists increases daily. It has taken me about 11 hours over two days with a bike with a motor, to travel as far as they would do in a single five and a half hour day, over the same terrain, and they do it day after day for three weeks with only a couple of rest days.

The Col de Portet d’Aspet has an unfortunate notoriety in the history of the Tour: in 1995, 25 year old Italian, Fabio Casartelli, the last amateur winner of the Olympic Gold Medal for the road race in Barcelona crashed on the descent and died of head injuries before reaching hospital. There has been much conjecture since as to whether or not he would have survived if he was wearing a helmet, which was not then mandatory as it is now. Close to the scene of the crash is a marble monument.

I can quite understand the number of crashes there have been on the descent. It is quick and wide enough to make riders take risks and in wet weather it must be hair raising. There were occasions on my descent when I was hard on the brakes to steer around some of the tight bends but exhilarating at the bottom.

A bit more work along the valley floor and I was into the final 4 mile climb of the day. The battery was looking dangerously low and I wondered if I would make it to the top of the Col des Ares. It is not particularly steep but it seemed to go on for ever and I was mighty glad when I got to the summit with one bar left on the read-out.

It was now a question of getting down to the valley floor for the five mile ride to my destination in Cierp-Gaud. It was another long sweeping descent and at some point I missed a turn which left me in a temporary quandary as, for some reason, I couldn’t get maps up on my phone to tell me where I’d gone wrong. In the event I got back on my route by chance so all was well. My Garmin has been behaving abominably all day. To start with it wouldn’t show my speed. Every time I reset it, it stopped recording the journey so it was next to useless. I hope that I can work out how to improve it otherwise it’ll be going on ebay when I get back home. Although my old Garmin had some quirks it was a little more reliable and, as I’ve already said, the battery lasted much longer.

Day 4 – Hill climbing

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.

Day 3 – Heading for the hills

Last night was a first for me, dinner in an Ethiopian restaurant. It was just around the corner from the Hotel and looked good from reviews. In the event I found it a bit so-so. An Abyssinian Beyaynetu proved to be a couple of pancakes with various small portions dotted around the plate. There was egg, beef, chicken and various vegetables. To be a true Ethiopian you need to eat with your fingers but I requested a fork to help me. It was tasty enough, rather Indian spicy, and I was content. The Ethiopian beer was excellent

and I departed to compose the blog.

Breakfast this morning was something of a surprise, not because of the content which was typically French with the addition of some ham and cheese – excellent croissants – but because of the waiter Hugo who is British but was schooled in France from the age of 7 when his parents brought him to live in Normandy. He used to spend quite a bit of time in the UK but since Brexit has become more or less a full time resident in France, though he has not become a citizen. It came as a surprise to hear him speaking English without a trace of accent but, as he said, they only spoke English at home when he was growing up.

Hotel Riquet is pretty seedy, needing a good uplift for its rooms although the outside looks quite grand and well tended.

The lift was very slow and there were cockroaches in the bathroom. To cap it all the building site opposite the hotel started work at 0500 so sleep after that was impossible. However 80 euros B&B in the centre of Toulouse is probably not too bad.

I was packed and on the road by 0900 and, typically for me set off in the wrong direction. A couple of circuits of the centre

eventually found me by the Garonne

which I crossed and went through a park which will be the centre of World Rugby when it comes to the city. The cycle path followed the river upstream and I was blessed with well surfaced cycle paths for much of the day. It didn’t stop me from making several wrong turns and cursing my new Garmin Explore which seems significantly worse than my old Garmin. The main problem is the lack of battery life. I could get 90 miles out of the old Garmin as long as I didn’t use the maps too often, the new one seems to be significantly worse and I virtually ran out in the 70 mile journey today despite putting it in battery saver mode. Fortunately good old Rita on the phone is reliable and frugal. I can only blame myself for a lot of the wrong turns, missing important spoken cues.

About two miles out of the city I came across a memorial to those who died in the explosion of a chemical plant in 2001. It killed 31, injured many more and caused great damage – two thirds of the city windows were broken and twisted steel girders were found a mile away for the site.

It sits close to the Teleo cable car that crosses the river and joins the two halves of the city. Surprisingly, given the number of ski resorts in the country, it is the longest cable car in France and, as such projects do, has come in for criticism for costing too much and being under used.

My journey continued, following the Garonne upstream, climbing impercitibly which made for hard work in 28 degrees of heat. There was no rest at all, I had to keep pedalling for most of the day and, towards the end was stopping quite regularly. I had filled both my bidons at the Hotel and stopped at an Intermarche to buy a further 1.5 litres which, gratifyingly, cost only 55 cents and by the end of the journey I was empty of water and energy.

At Roquefort-sur-Garonne I left the eponymous river and followed the River Salat up to my destination, Saint Girons. There was a hard cycle track for the last 18 miles from Mazeres where I came a cropper when, concentrating on my Garmin, I missed seeing a barrier across the path: fortunately it swung when I hit it but I still ended up in the fence, luckily without damage to me or the bike. The cycle paths have been excellent, well tended and traffic free.

I’m staying in a 3 bedroomed flat which has a washing machine so I’ve been able to wash everything used so far. There’s no breakfast but for the remarkably low price of 45 euros, it’s a bit of a snip. I’m cycling about 50 miles tomorrow, a lot of it seriously uphill but with the downhill sections it still shouldn’t take more than 5 hours so I’ll take my time in the morning and visit the Saturday morning market to make my breakfast.

Day 2 – In training

The ferry docked at 0645 local time leaving me with over four hours to kill before the train from Caen to Paris. I had toyed with the idea of trying to catch the 0758, giving me a bit of time in Paris but I’m very glad that I didn’t because, unlike previous years (probably because there were so many of us) cyclists were last off and by the time I’d got through border patrol I wouldn’t have stood a hope in hell of making it. The morning was foggily wet and my glasses were soon covered in water. I could scarcely see Pegasus Bridge 50 metres from the excellent cycle track that joins Ouistreham to Caen but by the time I passed under the motorway Bridge over the Orne, nicely decorated with graffiti,

the sun had started to break through and by the time I reached the station it was a cloudless sky with the temperature rising fast.

I had a cup of coffee, most of which I managed to spill all over the floor, and a pain au raisin and then set about sorting out the indexing for the gears. It was a long slow process adjusting quarter turn by quarter turn, made even more difficult by the panniers which made mounting and dismounting difficult but I seem to have managed it. There may still be some tweaking to do tomorrow but I’ve got all day to cycle 68 not very taxing miles. I sat in the waiting hall, people watching until 1145 came round and I made my way down under the main station by way of lifts to Quai G where I boarded the non stop train to Paris. The rolling stock looks new, built by Canadian firm Bombardier and all the trains that I saw were double deckers. Bikes travel free and having hung it up by its front wheel I went upstairs and enjoyed the Norman countryside, heavily wooded and green as we made our way east. Once we reached the Seine the scenery deteriorated to industrial mishmash and rail yards, no different, I suppose, from any other conurbation,

We arrived at Paris St Lazare on time and I set off to find Gare Montparnasse, the departure station for Toulouse. I’d plumbed the route into both Garmin and phone

but was having trouble hearing the directions. I headed south towards the Seine, passing through heavy traffic in the Place de la Concorde where there was lots of tentage and stands for the Rugby World Cup

and stopping to take pics of the Champs Elysee

and the Seine as I crossed it, managing to neatly blot out the Eiffel Tower!

I went a bit off course towards the end but arrived in plenty of time to board the train, this time TGV non stop to Bordeaux and then on to Toulouse. Bike provision on TGV is poor despite having to pay 10 euros for the doubtful privilege. There is not enough luggage space so, although bikes take priority, baggage is piled around and on top of them

I feared for my derailleur but all was well and everything seemed OK as I rode to my hotel from the grand Matabiau station

Day 1 Home Farm – Portsmouth

The day dawned fair, if anything too fair, with afternoon temperatures forecast to be in the high 20’s.  I had to get to the ferry in Portsmouth that leaves at 2130 and docks in Ouistreham, the seaport of Caen, at 0645 the following morning.  So no great hurry to start and I dealt with a few admin issues before strapping the panniers to the Boardman 8.9E adv, checking carefully that this year I had a passport and it was in date.  I’d packed my bags a few days previously making use of the spreadsheet that has helped me for the last couple of years so am confident that I have all the essentials.  I said goodbye to the nearest and dearest and was on my way on the dot of 12.  The drivetrain of the bike has been completely rebuilt following an incident where the derailleur fell off and was mashed by the back wheel. But this was something of a trial journey and unfortunately the indexing of the gears was awry and I was having trouble getting into the lowest gear.  Eventually I stopped and rang chief mechanic Rob to check which way to turn the adjuster. It’s better but still not spot on and I shall have to do a bit of fettling when I ride from the ferry to Caen train station tomorrow.  I’ve got plenty of time as my train doesn’t leave until 1128.  Hopefully I can get it right before the major climbs in the Pyrenees.

This is my fifth attempt at the journey to and from Portsmouth.  I went to and from in 2015 when I cycled down to the Med and back, from coming back from Sicily in 2017 and to last year on my slightly ill-fated trip to Berlin.  The route is not especially hilly but it is almost 80 miles which in temperatures up to 26 degrees made for an enervating journey. I made reasonable time and was passing Salisbury Cathedral at about three o’clock.

  I stopped to take an unusual photo of the west door with the magnificent spire, the tallest in Britain, barely visible above it. The Close was busy with tourists and I weaved my way past walkers who weren’t really paying attention, blipping the bell in warning.

Onwards over the downs towards Southampton, not much traffic on these back roads until I joined the main road at Romsey.  There’s a neat little cycle path that misses the centre of the town but after that it’s main roads all the way through Southampton until joining the A27 that takes you all the way to the ferry terminal.  I was able to avoid the queues of traffic by taking to the pavement, some of it shared cycle path, some illegal but I try to be sensible and give way to walkers.  Anyway it saved a good deal of waiting and I was at Lidl four miles from my destination by 6.45pm for much needed supplies as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  Lights on for the last few miles and I dropped into the Terminal building to make use of their power points to recharge phone and Garmin for an hour or so before boarding.  I didn’t bother with the bike battery as I’d only used about 50% and I’m unlikely to use any tomorrow on the 10 mile trip to catch the train in Caen and 4 miles between Parisian stations.  That can wait until I’m in my hotel in Toulouse..  Now I’m on board I find charging points freely available, a bonus from last year.

I jumped the car queue to check in and joined several other cyclists as we were corralled ready to board before the main traffic. Traffic was held up as police painstakingly searched all vehicles looking for an escaped prisoner. They didn’t seem to think that I was hiding him in my panniers and waved me and several other cyclists through

I’m not over impressed by the way the bikes are lashed together and I trust that I’ll still have a working derailleur when I collect it in the morning. There must be at least 30 bikes on board, many more than I have seen in the past. Hopefully I’ll get some sleep but the seats aren’t especially comfortable so at best it’ll be a bit of a doze. At least this year I’m on the overnight ferry and not sleeping on the streets.

06-09-23

France 2023

I’ve left it quite late this year to organise a long distance bike tour. I should be busy building a new house but lots of things have got in the way of that so I’m taking off for 18 days in France and particularly the Pyrenees. For the past 40 years or so I’ve watched the Tour de France as it makes its way through the Pyrenees and thought it would be interesting to see what the gradients are really like. I tested myself in the Alps in 2015 and struggled up the Col du Galibier and Mont Ventoux but that was pure pedal power. Now I’ve got a motor to help me up the steepest slopes and I reckon I shall need it. I’m cycling from home to Portsmouth to catch the overnight ferry and then jumping on a train in Caen to Paris where I change stations and onto the TGV to Toulouse. A night in the Pink City and then four days of gruelling climbing before the Pyrenees spit me out at Pau. Then across to the Atlantic coast at Biarritz and up the flat west coast to Brittany and a ferry from St Malo to Poole via Guernsey: it’s then just a short cycle home. Follow my adventure on bailward.co.uk.