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.
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
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.
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.
