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| Canal Hopping to the Med. |
22nd September – Day One – Getting to Bordeaux by train!
Heard running water during the night. Someone had left the tap on! So that meant cold showers in the morning. Still, at least that meant the day could only get better. TW was up early to drop me off for the Chiltern Train from High Wycombe. Bikes are carried free as long as arrival in Marylebone isn’t between 7:45 and 10:00 am. So I was on the 6.55 to beat the embargo. Had to stand with my bike near the doors but did not get trampled too badly by the daily commuters. At Marylebone I jumped on the bike and headed off down the Marylebone Road towards St Pancras International. No great excitement but did manage to ride the bike through horse poo. Not sure who commutes on a horse these days but Boris should tell them to take a poo bag and a shovel! Looking forward to taking my wheels off later on. There's a bus lane most of the way down the road. Have to share with Taxi Cabs but they aim to miss.
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| Waiting for a Train |
Printed off my
Eurostar ticket without any problem. Had pre-booked the bike to Lille to travel on the same train as me. It cost £20 but just dropped it off at the Eurostar Baggage Dispatch Area, they wheeled it away and it turned up in Lille - magic!
Had good nose around St,.Pancras while I waited for the train. Very smart with lots of places to grab a coffee and a sandwich. Nice comfy departure lounge.
The Eurostar bound for Brussels via Lille was packed so trying to take the bike as luggage could have presented a problem. Not much luggage space at all. There was a French strike planned for the next day so that might be the reason it was so busy? I chose Lille instead of Paris as it avoids having to cycle across Paris. The
TGV goes from downstairs in the same station.
My seat was at a table of 4, opposite was a Belgian with BOSE headphones and his nose in a Dell Computer. Definitely in his own world. He wore a puzzled expression as though someone had sent him a joke and he could not work out what was funny. Next to him was an Esther Rantzen look-alike who at least spoke to me. As soon as we entered the Tunnel she started to cough repeatedly and non-stop until we reached daylight the other end when miraculously she fell quiet. I diagnosed Tunnel Fever or perhaps a case of Malaise de Sous Manche. My neighbour was a Belgian yoof who scoffed bananas then noisily swallowed a smoothie before falling asleep. He proceeded to exhaust methane until we reached Lille when I woke him up to get out. They were going on to Brussels.
Dell boy still hadn’t got the joke!
By the way, the route from St. Pancras to Folkestone confused me a bit. I remembered the old route from Waterloo that rattled over the old Southern Region tracks to get out of London. On the new route I saw ships after 10 minutes, blimey didn’t take long to reach the Channel! Of course it was the Thames near Dartford. The fast tracks take a bit of an eastern detour. Pretty quick though! As we headed through Kent alongside the M20 the fast lane looked positively pedestrian.
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| On the TGV for about 5 hours |
Anyway, having been re-united with my bike at Lille I now had to take it apart so I could carry it onto the TGV as luggage. The cheap train I’d booked didn’t have a bike compartment. Found a quiet corner and loaded the bike into its zip-up bag after removing its pedals, wheels and the luggage rack. They do not tell you which platform until the very last few minutes so there is a bit of a scrum for the lift down. There are escalators but with two panniers and a heavy bike bag my trolley was essential.
My TGV arrived on-time and I found plenty of luggage space, the ‘bike in a bag’ fitted nicely onto the middle shelf of the upstairs luggage rack. I liked my smart double-decker train with a table for four just for me where I could spread out my copy of The Telegraph. My nearest neighbour was a progressively more inebriated French Businessman who kept disappearing to the bar or jumping off for a smoke when the train stopped. His smoke-breaks meant he kept losing his seat which annoyed him but amused me. I think he expected me to save it for him. At one point he fell asleep only to be woken up by his iPhone. This set him into a panic as he patted every pocket, desperately trying to find the darn thing. Eventually he found it in his shirt pocket by which time it had stopped ringing.
I carried on with my Telegraph Su Doku.
It was about 21:15 when I reach
Bordeaux St. Jean Station. That meant it was time to put the bike back together on the Platform and then push it to my Hotel.
Bordeaux was a bit of a culture shock, in film terms Bordeaux St Jean by night is more Blade Runner than Gigi.
Reached my Hotel at 10:00pm but the reception was closed and the doors locked. A friendly African chap, also staying there, let me in with his key. So now I am inside the foyer with my bike and no sign of a night bell or key. Someone else came in and I asked for information and they told me there was an ordinateur (computer) outside. Didn’t see that and there was no sign on the door. Sure enough, ‘a hole in the wall’ was secreted outside in the dark and dinghy street. So had to input my on-line reservation number into this ‘key point’ and then my credit card and, lo and behold, out popped a key! Scuttled back inside.
My bike fitted into the lift so that went to the room with me. It wasn’t a bad room actually. It was clean (apart from the horse shit) and had a fridge, microwave and hot plates. It’s only design flaw was a huge water tank painted black directly above the toilet at a height ideally placed to make contact with my forehead.
I did not disappoint!
As I had only had a Ham baguette at lunchtime I was now starving so decided to venture out onto the mean streets of Bordeaux and to a shop around the corner for some grub. It was one of those late night shops where the shelves have more blank space than stock. Any stock was spread out as much as possible. I settled on a sealed Tuna Salad dish which I later binned as the light in my room revealed that the package was filthy. Not that hungry! So just Crisps and a Bounty Bar for dinner.
Had breakfast at the Hotel in the morning. Made sure I got good value for my 7 Euros and then wandered off to try and find the Tourist Information Office and the map I wanted for the
Voie Verte – Bordeaux – Toulouse a Velo. Eventually found the Tourist Information, an unmarked Portakabin in front of the Railway Station. St Jean wasn’t so bad by day, at least I could see the pavement doggy doo-dahs!
So, le Grande Depart! I’m a cyclist get me outta here!
Now, where’s that river? I headed off in the direction I thought the river was in, desperate to get outta town. Could find it, no!. Had to ask someone eventually, Monsieur, ou est la riviere?
What the
Garonne, he replied, It‘s over there! He looked at me as though I had escaped from an institution. It’s a pretty big river so it could, I suppose, be seen as a silly question. But to me, who had thoughts of spending the next 9 days on an interminable ring road whilst getting repeated punctures from the glass debris, the first sight of the river was a moment of sublime joy. I was now so lacking in confidence I even checked the river flow to make sure I was about to head upstream and not towards the Atlantic.
So, onto a bike route marked
Pont de Mitterand where I would cross the Garonne for the first time.
I cycled over the bridge on a bike route strapped to the side of this magnificent bridge and headed down the Garonne. Merci President Mitterand, I wonder what utilities Sarkhozy will get his name put on. Don’t think he is too popular.
Headed along the Garonne until Latresne where I turned inland and joined the
Voie Roger Lapebie.
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| Tunnel under the hills |
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| Vines stripped bare. |
Roger Lapebie was a Tour de France winner in bygone days, 1937 in fact. He was the first to win with a
Derailleur gear. The path is a recycled railway line that heads inland through the
Entre-Deux-Mers (between two rivers, the Dordogne and the Garonne) region. The surface is good, the scenery is great, there are plenty of places to stop for refreshments. Many of the old Railway Stations have been turned into Restaurants. My lunch stop was in Creon, a pretty town en-route. I was still trying to make up for yesterdays food shortage so stopped at Le Table and had a nice meal of fish (Lieu) and a figgy thing with Ice Cream for dessert. Most French towns have one-way systems and Creon was no exception. I can normally find the IN but generally struggle with the OUT. Found my way back to my Branch Line eventually and pedalled on towards
Sauveterre de Guyenne through vineyards and past Chateaux. The only danger was at the road crossings en route. It would have been great if they had retained the level crossings and I could then have rung my bell, waved and mouthed a jolly bonjour at the motorists as I pedalled across.
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Picking in progress- gone are the days
of manual picking |
Reached Sauveterre in good time. Lovely patisserie. Seems the city was founded by Edward 1st in 1281. The walls of the Sauveterre (castle) were demolished in the 19th century and only the gates remain.
Went to the Tourist Office at Sauveterre to find accommodation. There were Chambre d’Hotes he told me and, rather reluctantly I felt, he also mentioned a Hotel. I headed for the Hotel de Guyenne which was perfect. Ok, they had overdone the distressed chic but it was good value and the evening meal was superb.
Soup, a Starter buffet selection, Main (I had a steak), Cheese Board and a Dessert all served with wine for about 12 Euros. The waitress was English, married to a Frenchman, and was helpful and chatty. She told me a bit about the wine harvest that was in progress and about the town.
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| Bike and Vine |
24th September – Day 3 Sauveterre to Feugarolles - 87km - Canal Knowledge
Opened the shutters to find that it had rained overnight but appeared to be clearing. Today's ride would take me south towards La Reole, and along the
Canal Lateral that runs alongside the River Garonne.
There are two major canals on this trip, the
Canal du Midi that runs from Toulouse almost to the Med and the
Canal Lateral that starts about 50km or so upstream from Bordeaux and runs to Toulouse. They are the realisation of a dream to link the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. The Canal du Midi was here first. It was built at the time of Louis XIV between 1666 and 1681. Traffic was dense for about two hundred years until the arrival of the ‘Iron Road’. The Canal Lateral de la Garonne was completed in 1856. Prior to its completion boats still had to use the Garonne so I suppose had problems with floods and grounding.
The main road to La Reole was a tad busy so I swung off and took parallel roads through undulating vineyards with their vines still hanging heavy with red grapes. It won’t be long until the picking monsters pass this way. La Reole looks a nice spot, made my already habitual visit to the Patisserie and headed down to the river. Crossed the Garonne and followed signposts to the Canal.
The welcome sight of my work-place for the next few days came into view. A beautifully smooth towpath alongside the still-waters bordered on both sides by shady Plane Trees.
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| The Canal Lateral - My 'Office' for the next few days |
Just at the moment I joined, a team of four cyclists sped along the towpath led by a chap wearing a yellow jersey and towing a trailer. Crikey, it’s going to be busy! In fact, it would prove to be very quiet and this would be the first of many encounters with the ‘Maillot Jaune’ and his team who were, as they say, ‘going my way’.
The weather forecast was for storms to blow through during the day. Conveniently, there were frequent bridges to shelter beneath and watch the leaves and bark being blown from the trees as these tempests came through.
Under one such bridge I came across two Dutch damsels in distress. One had taken shelter only to find her back tyre had gone flat. They had a no knowledge on how to repair it but did have a ‘the kitchen sink’ in terms of tools and spares. Would I help? Of course I would.
One kept calling me Sir which is fair enough but Galahad would have done. After extracting a nasty piece of metal from her tyre it was bit of a struggle trying to get air into the tyre. They had the car tyre style Schraeder valves which are fine if you have a stirrup pump or an air-line but tricky with their sawn-off portable. Managed to get air in using my pump and very vigorous reciprocating movements. The ladies complimented me on my vigour, one had the temerity to ask how long it had been since I had last received such praise from a woman! No comment was my swift response.
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| Canal Lateral |
I cycled with them for much of the day and they offered to treat me to a picnic lunch as a reward for my help. So with bread and ham we settled at a picnic area and, of course, down came the rain again. I think these ladies lead charmed lives because a family from Lyon, on one of the Cabin Cruisers tied up alongside, invited us on-board.
We enjoyed a very comfortable and enjoyable lunch sat at their table as the rain hammered onto the cabin roof. They boiled up water for a nice coffee and even gave us some of their special sausage. This was about one inch diameter and appeared to be coated in grass seed. Tasted very good though!
Merci Lyon!
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| French hospitality |
Renting a boat and floating the quiet waters is a popular holiday. I gathered that the rental fee was around 600 Euros per week for a cruiser with 2 double beds and 2 showers.
So we pressed on. I had planned to stay around Damazan but the hotel and every other hostelry was closed. They have a cricket pitch, of all things, but no Hotel. The Tourist Information was closed. Having separated from my new Dutch friends I headed on at good speed through the wine town of Buzet to Feugarolles. Went a ‘bridge too far’ and cycled round the town until I saw the sign for the Gites. And they had a room for me! 45 Euros plus 20 Euros for dinner. Les Tilleuls de la Voie Verte.
Dinner was ok but couldn't compare to the previous night. Sat on a large table at dinner with the team of four led by the Maillot Jaune. They were two retired couples heading for Agde from Bordeaux. Quite a jolly lot and I managed to get by with my French. Two of them had walked the
St James Compostela pilgrimage - Chemins St Jacques in French. I think it took them about 6 weeks.
Had a Violette aperitif before the meal, it looked just like 'meths', which was a bit of a worry, but it tasted fine. Wine, Rose and Red, was included but the food portions were not super-sized.
