What a day!

The day began well. The sun was shining and everything was packed away smoothly when I noticed that my back tyre was a bit flat. No problem I thought - just pump it up. That's when I heard the hiss of escaping air and I discovered the hole in the tyre. My cycling couple neighbours helpfully suggested Decathlon in Toulouse which was 20 kms away.
So I unpacked the bike and a greasy handed hour later I had repaired the puncture and the hole in the  tyre (as best I could) and I was on my way.
The cycle path by the Canal du Midi was like a motorway for bikes and runners and walkers. At first like crocodile Dundee I said "bonjour" to everyone but soon reduced it to a nod.  The middle of the day was pretty flat boring and uninteresting countryside as the cycle way followed first the Canal du Midi and then the Canal de Deux Mers. My one good piece of luck was when I met an old lady on a bike who directed me to a bike shop for a new back tyre.  Near the end of the planned day and looking forward to a hot shower in the municipal campsite at Bon Encontre when bang! The back tyre blew out . Nearly crying I put on the new tyre and headed for the campsite (which didn't exist except on the Internet)

The mayor in his wisdom decided not to open this year. Never mind I had passed lots of campsites so a few miles at most  and I'll find another I thought optimistically.
 Thirty miles later it was getting dark and I had not passed a campsite or a hotel or a chambre d' hote. I was on the point of knocking on a door to ask if I could camp on their garden for the night  when a sign appeared as if by magic from the gathering gloom. Only four kms promised the sign to a chambre d'hote (B&B)
It was almost dark when I tentatively inquired if they had a room. I held my breath while he gave a Gallic shrug and said that normally there would be no problem but there was a special party and all ten rooms were full but like the innkeeper in Bethlehem he took pity on me and offered me an attic room which was just perfect.(it had a bed)  I was offered the use of the family bathroom and told to treat it like home. Better I was to have dinner at the family dinner table. I nearly cried with relief - my hosts were generous and brilliant. It would have been easy to turn me away. Perhaps the fact that I was totally knackered was in my favour.

 I cannot recommend too highly "les tilleuls de la voie verte" or  praise too highly Sylvie & Claude Frisson www.chambre-dhote-gite-tilleulsdelavoieverte.fr

Surely it can only get better tomorrow?

Day Two

Huge headwind all day, after an early start.  Everything wet.  Can't have a shower, towel is soaking wet. I try it anyway but it is not at all pleasant. Eventually found my way to tonight's campsite at Deyne just short of Toulouse.

near Toulouse

I camped next to a French couple who are cycle touring with all of the comforts of home. They have a table and chairs and real glasses for their wine. That's style!  But, heavy, like my bike, I need to lose a few kilos.  Why did I think I  might cook?

Going to sleep now. It is definitely not easy to maintain a blog on an i - phone! 

Raissac to carcassonne

Finally under way.

It took me the whole morning to pack the bike - this camping lark is not easy!

Gisele came to head the send off party and take a photo - in fact she was the send off party.

The cycle to Carcassonne was uneventful. Putting the tent up was more eventful but it is up - lets hope it stays up.

The bike felt strange at first with two front panniers but I quickly got used to the weight and I do have some very low gears which is just as well because there is no way I could push it up a hill. (these words may come back to haunt me)

It is just as well I put the tent up carefully. During the night there was a fantastic electrical storm (orage) which was accompanied by torrential rain and a big wind. I was amazed to still be dry and intact in the morning.

Final Day - Gruissan Plage to Raissac d' Aude

Monsieur le maire

The leisurely stuff went out of the window, when I slept in and woke up at 9.37! I hadn't slept past 8 before at any time on the road so I  hadn't bothered to set the alarm.

I hadn’t slept well with various thoughts bouncing around in my head. I had watched France play Belorusse at football on tv which was boring enough to have sent half the population of France off to sleep. “I’m going to be late,” I thought as I hurriedly went through my morning routine. The chamois crème got its last outing just to "stick" to the routine.
It was ironic that the only day there was a timetable I was going to be late!

The welcome offered to all visitors

By the time I had packed everything up for the last time and checked out of the hotel having thrown some breakfast down me It was 10.30 and I wasn’t sure if I could make it to Raissac for 12.

David, a now permanent resident of Raissac,  had phoned me a couple of times earlier in the week to check on my progress and to try to  tie me down to an arrival time, so I knew that something was planned, but I had no idea that I would receive the welcome that awaited me.

However it was not be a leisurely final cycle,  for there was a headwind,  and I was really pushing the pace ( or so I thought until I was passed by another cyclist, who was at least my age, who sped off into the distance) I pushed on and reached the edge of the village with three minutes to spare, so I was able to relax and take a photo before riding in to a wonderful welcoming committee who all began to applaud, seemingly spontaneously.

 I was stunned and found it hard to take it all in. There were three huge, very professional looking banners, which had been hung on the railings, "Bienvenue Welcome" , "brian's big bike ride arrivee", " Calais en velo Raissac" and photos in front of the Mairie,  followed by a little drinks party in the garden of the mairie. Everyone was very welcoming and I felt like a minor celebrity and that I had reached home. It all flashed by and I wish that I could describe it better but it felt very good to receive such a welcome and to know that so many people had come to greet me.

I would like to take this final opportunity to thank everyone for their support. Thank you!

The following article appeared in the Midi Libre ( the local daily newspaper) on Thursday September 8th

Calais-Raissac en vélo

Brian Forrester, instituteur dans le canton de Fife près d'Edimbourg en Ecosse et son épouse Pauline, professeur de collège, ont eu le coup de foudre il y a quelques années pour le calme de notre petit village. Ils y font des séjours réguliers au moment des vacances scolaires et ils apprécient le soleil du midi. Jusque-là Brian pratiquait le cyclisme en dilettante, pour le plaisir. Mais récemment retraité, il avait décidé de parcourir Calais-Raissac en solitaire en vélo pour récolter des fonds pour l'association"Les Samaritains" en Ecosse. Animée par des bénévoles, cette association s'occupe des personnes dépressives de tout âge qui ont besoin d'un soutien psychologique et cela 24 heures sur 24. Brian a réalisé son rêve assez facilement puisqu'il n'a pas eu une seule crevaison sur son long

parcours de 1 500 km. Parti de Calais le 16 août, il s'était fixé comme objectif de parcourir environ 100 km par jour sur les routes secondaires. Il a fait étape à Berk-Plage, Amiens, Soissons, Cézanne, Troyes, Chatillon-sur-Seine, Dijon, Châlons-sur-Saône, Villefranche-sur-Saône, Lyon, Valence, Orange, Montpellier, Gruissan-Plage. Sur chacun de ces sites, il prenait du repos et des forces dans de petits hôtels et il s'est aussi accordé 4 jours de relâche dans son circuit afin de récupérer pleinement. C'est donc le 4 septembre qu'il est arrivé à Raissac tout sourire, heureux d'avoir réussi son pari et d'être accueilli par ses amis devant la mairie comme un vrai champion. Après ce périple mémorable, Brian rejoindra son Ecosse natale où l'attendent impatiemment son épouse Pauline encore en activité mais aussi sa petite fille Rudy. Aux prochaines vacances dans la rue du Tilleul !

If you don't read French this is basically a nice summary of the whole of the blog. If you do read French - I lied!

Day 19 Montpellier to Narbonne (then on to Gruissan Plage)

leaving Montpellier

I have done it! I am writing this in the hotel "Accueil des Plages" in Gruissan having cycled through Narbonne to get here. With my many "detours" today may actually have been my first hundred miler. It certainly felt like it. The problem is that the coastline is bordered by many many miles of low lying boggy ground which often turns into shallow etangs. So on the map although Montpellier to Beziers is a straightforward fifty miles, the RN113 routes itself way north of a straight line, and it doesn't have a hard shoulder, so it makes for unpleasant cycling. Every time I tried to find an alternative route I got lost adding miles to the day. The alternative roads were mostly really small roads which don't have many signs so you need to constantly stop to check the map. Anyway enough moaning.  I am here. I am in one piece. Actually the legs are not too bad. I am feeling good and all is well with my little corner of the world.

Florensac monument

As the afternoon progressed it got hotter and hotter, just what I had expected from the first. My water bottles which I had refilled in the park at Florensac at my lunch stop were getting emptgier and I was getting thirstier and hotter by the minute without any signs of cafe or shops. Finally when I was getting desperate I came to a Super U supermarket in Coursan where I attracted very strange looks with my beetroot face and sweat rolling down - I am sure you've got the picture. I got my 1.5 litre bottle of water and promptly drank most of it before I got out of the shop. Nearly back to square one.

Thus refreshed I decided to change my plan to paddle with my bike in the Mediterranean tomorrow and to go do it this evening. So I sailed through Narbonne which was quite quiet traffic wise unusually, and on down to Gruissan where I accosted the poor unsuspecting girl behind the huge reception counter to take my picture. I had arrived and had the photo (but not the t shirt.) Armed with a list of hotels I set off to complete my two remaining tasks - a celebratory drink in the bar overlooking the beach, and to dip a wheel and some of me in the Mediterranean in ceremonial fashion.

Cheers!

The first part was easy and the Pelforth Blonde tasted especially good after a hard day's ride. the second task was a bit harder.

The tide was out and it was really hard work pushing my thin tyred Dawes over the soft sand. As I got nearer the water I began to create quite a stir and people were staring but I didn't care I was on a mission. As I got to the water's edge I heard a cry of, " Don't do it. It won't float!" He would become my photographer. I hoped he would be  a better photographer than comedian.

So it is finished. I have done it. I am camped outside Rome ready to ride in tomorrow to receive my triumph and the keys to the city. (What an imagination.) But I am looking forward to seeing David and Steph (and any other Brits who are there) and Gisele and Andre and Didier and  Collette  and seeing how the vendange is progressing. I plan to arrive at 12.00 which gives me time to have a leisurely breakfast and a very leisurely cycle to Raissac.

How does it feel? I have a sense of achievement and a quiet sense of satisfaction which I am sure will grow as I look back.

Day 18 Montpellier

The intrepid tourist headed back in to central Montpellier  by tram for more sight seeing this morning after a leisurely breakfast and a read of the local paper. Today is back to school day across the whole of France. Judging by the centre of Montpellier, I am guessing that it was back to university day, or Freshers Week, as well. The centre of the town was moving with teenagers, all heading somewhere, seemingly aimlessly, and laughing a lot about it. 

At first it was charming but after a bit I must confess to feeling a little, whispers it, old.

Out with the introspection and on with the sight seeing. First it was the Peyrou with its Royal Plaza dominated by Louis X14 on his horse. This is on the very edge of the old centre and is the highest point in Montpellier which at 55m is not very high and doesn't provide much of a panoramic view.  Then I just had to go back to la place d’Europe. It was just as grand as yesterday but curiously empty. Then on to Sanctuaire Saint-Roch. Saint Roch is the patron saint of Montpellier. Then …my heart just wasn’t in the tourist stuff  today and I just wandered around aimlessly before perching myself on a park bench to watch the world go by and listen to my i pod.

Maybe I just noticed it more but there were a lot of beggars on the streets and quite a lot of people sleeping rough in the parks. This was in stark contrast to the obvious wealth of the city and most of its citizens. I don’t think that I would like to live in a city. I can see the attractions but there are too many downsides and for me the French have a good expression “trop du monde” – literally too much of the world – too many people!

Today feels strange. I am nearly there and I am glad that I am nearly there but I am sorry that it has to end. It is as if real life has been put on hold for a while which it has. I have enjoyed it immensely and I am about ready to stop but I am not sure that I want it to end just yet. It does feel a bit anti-climactic but hopefully that will be replaced with a feeling of satisfaction by Saturday.

Day 17 Nimes to Montpellier

“It is only 60 kms, without much wind, today should be an easy day,” I thought as I set out. I always like this part of the day, when you are not yet warmed up, and still have a sense of the adventures to come; before the soporific effect of the constant pedaling and the i pod sets in. To be fair, the cycling was easy – flat, no wind to speak of, but the shameful state of the road surface, combined with the fact that there were no obvious alternative small roads to take,  left me in a constant battle with busy traffic and busy towns.

la place d'europe

I cleared Nimes easily and set off on the N113 (which eventually passes near to Raissac d’ Aude) It could have been fine, but the “bande de securite” ( hard shoulder)  was in such bad condition that I had no alternative but to cycle on the road. The cars and lorries took it in turn to try to “persuade” me back on to the hard shoulder.  The worst offender was a little invalid car which actually brushed my pannier. I gave him the universal sign of displeasure to which he took great offence. The second difficulty was that I had chosen a Premiere Classe hotel which was due west of Montpelier in St-Jean-de-Vedas and I was coming from due east of Montpellier. I certainly wasn’t about to go through the centre but there was no easy route around. To cut a long boring story short,  I eventually got to my hotel at about 2pm and by 3pm I was in the centre of Montpellier, after a 25 minute trip on the tram. (and a shower and everything unpacked and the bike safely stowed away for two days)

Unlike travelling by train, you don’t see much from the tram because of the way it has been constructed after the city. When I stepped off the tram at the arbitrarily chosen “Place de Europe” I walked no further than 50 metre before I had one of those “wow” moments. La Place de Europe  was stunning and it was on a vast scale. I could have been in Texas because everything seemed to be bigger and better than the next.

I wandered about for a bit but it soon became clear that I would need some help so I went into the “Office de Tourisme” and picked up a map and directions to “le petit train touristique.” I am becoming quite the dedicated tourist. One thing which drives me mad and I can’t understand is: “ Why can’t they employ someone who actually speaks English to write the blurb….. “departure and return on the place of the Comedie, near the Tourisme office. Ask on the cashier to know the next departure.”

The chamber of commerce!

Well I got on the next departure and went to all of the places which I can visit properly tomorrow,  now that I know where they are and how to get to them. Montpellier was really buzzing. It seemed to be full of young people and the energy that they bring. Yes, there were tourists of course, but not too many English voices, in fact I can’t think when I last saw a British registration, Chatillon sur Seine perhaps? The tourists were vastly outnumbered by the swathes of Montpellier residents all moving around at a Mediterranean pace or sitting in the thousands of cafes which abound in every conceivable place. If there is room to place a table and chair then it is so placed and another shoehorned in for good measure.

I think I may start at “La Place Royale du Peyrou”  which is the highest point of Montpellier and which should afford me a view of the other places I would like to visit. I don’t think I’ll emulate the girls in the fountain but I may put a foot (or even two) in to cool down.