Pyrenees and Languedoc

After our misty wet ride the previous day it was so nice to wake to blue sky, not a cloud. Our next pass was Col d’Aubisque

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 We climbed slowly up the switchbacking roads, passing the signs for cyclists each kilometre stating the gradient and how far still to go. 

 This time the snowy pyreneean peaks came into view. 

 

At the top of the pass was a small restaurant with cyclists sitting at café tables drinking beer or café au laits.  They were so cute in their matching lycra outfits – one group of four would all be wearing red and black lycra shirts and shorts with company names emblassoned on; the next table would be in yellow matching garb.  One of the guys looked at our bikes with interest “how many kilograms total?”  I held onto his light racing bike (I could even lift it with one finger!) while he tried to lift up my bike.  I’m not sure if he was just pretending that he couldn’t lift it or not….  They asked us where to next and I said “tomorrow, Col de Tourmalet!”.  They were surprised and impressed.  It is so much fun seeing the expressions on the faces of the french people we meet when I tell them the route we plan to take over all the passes – I guess they see two girls and two heavy bikes and think ‘impossible’.  It’s particularly fun throwing around the names of the most famous Tour de France climbs – the Col de Tourmalet is the highest pass in the Pyrenees  - there seems to be a ‘Holy 

Grail’ type of significance attached to the famous Tour routes “are you SURE you are able to go over that pass?  You do realise it is part of the TOUR DE FRANCE?”

The next day was the epic climb over Col de Tourmalet. 

 To be honest, I’ve done more difficult cycling in Southern England where the tiny roads follow the exact contours of the road – the repeated short, steep undulations are much more strenuous and soul-destroying than a long slow climb that you have mentally prepared for and have the reward of (usually) a great view and a flying long descent. 

As we slowly pedalled our way at 6km/h in our lowest gear I heard a funny clacking sound coming from behind me – and getting closer.  It was a guy in full length lycra from head to toe, including a funny little hat – SKATING up the hill, swinging walking poles.  He overtook us.

The top of the Col was a bit of an anti-climax – it wasn’t pretty like at the top of Aubisque and the cold clouds kept passing through.  We found a sheltered spot and hauled out our generous picnic.  The skater guy (now dressed in ordinary clothes so at first we didn’t recognise him) came over and started talking to us.  He’s in training for winter crosscountry skiing.  He disappeared and reappeared a slice of cherry pie from the restaurant for us!

Back on the bikes and we flew down the other side of col de Tourmalet and up over Col d’Aspin. 

 As we were nearing the bottom of the hill I suddenly realised I’d left my camera charger plugged in at the campground.  How ironic.  Our most ‘epic’ day crossing the highest pass and it's not until we have climbed up and over two passes that I remember the charger….  No way I was going to turn around to retrieve it!  I would get the lady at the campground to post it to me somewhere.  It was a bit of a bummer as connected to the charger was our only adaptor which we also used for my computer and Julie’s camera. We’d cope for a few days without it.

We arrived in pretty Arreau and the following day I managed using the few french words I know and lots of gestures to get the friendly campground owner to understand and phone the other campground with instructions to post the charger to me Poste Restante, in Carcassone.

The next day we climbed up and over col de Peyresourde then down a valley northwards to leave the Pyrenees behind us.

  Thunderstorms were forecast for the following day so we weren’t sure how far to cycle – to try to get as much done while the weather was good vs how much how legs and bottoms could take!  We had a nice break in pretty St Beat – Julie fell asleep flat on her back on a park bench – then continued on to a tiny place called Aspet.  We were both knackered when we arrived.  We pretty much had a shower, dinner then went to bed not long after.  We decided to cycle the next day 16km to the nearest train station and take a train to Toulouse to go shopping – what better way to spend a thunderstormy day? 

We cycled to St Gaudens and the next train that took bikes wasn’t for another 3 hours.  The village market was in full swing and I bought a load of nectarines.  We found a sports shop and I continued my tradition of buying a new sleeping mat each cycling trip.  Last August, in Canada, my air mattress developed a load of microscopic air leaks so I bought a new, fantastic, comfortable Big Agnes inflatable mattress in Canada.  I also bought a new tent for it (the old tent was moldy so I didn’t want new mattress in old tent – and the tent was on special!)  Anyway, it appears even Big Agnes is failing me. I started to get a sinking feelings during the nigh – literally – I would wake up with my hips pressed against the hard ground.  I couldn’t find any evidence of escaping air when I put the mattress under water (like you check a tyre tube) yet it would deflate enough over night that I’d have to blow it up again.

In the sports shop I found a Thermarest 5cm self-inflating ladies mattress “our most comfortable women’s self-inflating mattress”.  Sold.   Of course I also continued my tradition of not throwing away my old mattress, so am now travelling with two air mattresses.  I know my sister Joy appreciates the way I accumulate and carry Potentially Useful Items – we also have a Plastic Bag Collection and a pitiful Twisty Tie Collection.

We arrived in Toulouse and the weather remained fairly settled.  No sign of a storm.  We had planned to stay in Toulouse the night then start cycling the Canal du Midi to Carcassone the following day, but (now that I had my new mattress) there really wasn’t much to occupy us in Toulouse so we started cycling the canal towpath.  It was a beautifully sealed, wide trail for cyclists and walkers only.  Riding on the nearly dead-flat along a canal path was a nice change of pace after the Pyrenees! 

  We camped at a campsite about 20km along the route, then continued on to Carcassone the next day.  I wasn’t sure the exact distance to Carcassone as I didn’t have the maps for this area (I didn’t think we’d need a map when following a canal – how hard would it be to lose?) so I guessed it would be about 80km from the campsite.  We passed by a small village and the tow-path took us away from the canal for a short time.  We rejoined a waterway again but it seemed narrower than before.  And the further we went the narrower it got until it was just a muddy drain.  The track too, got narrower and more overgrown.  I think we had lost the canal.  We continued on, knowing that eventually we would come to a road and then we could re-orient ourselves.  We came to a tiny village and decided a bakery stop would be in order.  We arrived and there were 2 other cycle tourists we’d met on the canal earlier!  It was a relief to see we weren’t the only ones to lose the canal….  Together we rode back to the canal and continued along the tow-path, which was no longer a beautifully sealed wide path but a bumpy walking track.  As we neared the 80km mark I announced to Julie that ‘we can’t be far now!  Less than 5km I would think!” We passed some houses and I was sure we were on the outskirts of Carcassone, but the houses gave way to green fields again and we were once more in the countryside.  Finally, after nearly 90km there was a sign “Carcassone 5km”.   Despite there being no big hills it was still a tiring day bumping along essentially a walking track.

We headed into Carcassone city centre and went straight to the Post Office.  No package waiting.  Ah well, we’d try again the next day.   We checked into the campsite and despite being so close to a famous medieval city we didn’t move from our spot in the campground that evening.  We had our picnic dinner in the sun and drank wine.  Tomorrow we’d have the energy to explore.

The next day was Saturday, which was market day.  There was a whole block of stalls selling cheap items from China – I found a big floppy hat – then we went to the post office. Still no post.   The lovely lady at the tourist office phoned the campground where I’d left my charger and we found out the campsite lady hadn’t sent it yet!  We gave instructions to send it to Millau.  The tourist office lady kept rolling her eyes and afterwards said she thinks the lady was a bit strange and wasn’t certain how much she understood…

On Sunday we left the flat river valley and headed north into the Languedoc region and towards the Cevennes; following a Lonely Planet route in reverse.

  Sundays are not easy for homeless cycle tourists.  While I admire the culture of Sunday Closing in France it can be frustrating as a  hot and hungry cyclist.  Sunday was a 30 degree day.  We had our picnic lunch at a lovely spot overlooking Mazamet – an elderly american tourist was trying to chat to us when we arrived but all we wanted to do was sit and eat – so by the time we arrived in Mazamet it was about 1pm and the sun was blazing hot.  I really wanted an icecream.  Mazamet seemed a pretty sizeable place – Lonely Planet says population 10,000 – but all the supermarkets and even tabacs were closed. In the centre of town we found 1 restaurant and 2 bars – none of which had icecreams.  So I had a Mojito (cocktail with ice) while Julie had an orange with lemonade.  Then we lay in the shade of a tree in a park for a while; not looking forward to the climb back out of the valley in the heat.  

On Monday morning I got the lady at the campground to phone the other campground lady who had my charger, to request she send it to Meyrueis, where we expected to arrive by Thursday.  She couldn’t get hold of the woman at that moment but said she’d try again later.   I was getting rather impatient by this point to have the charger back; particularly because we needed the adaptor for the computer which now had a flat battery.  Back on the bikes we continued north along small roads, to connect with a second Lonely Planet route in the Cevennes.  I expected we would find a small town with a campground at about the 70km mark, but the next campground seemed to be 15km away.  We were feeling good and it was still early so we continued on to St Affrique. The camping municipal was closed.  The man at the tourist office showed us the next campground, ‘only’ another 15km up the road….  We went to the supermarket, bought some diet coke and supplies and refueled to psych ourselves up for a 100km+ day.   There was a steady climb out of St Affrique and my bike felt wobbly.  My rear tyre had been feeling a bit wobbly for a few days but I couldn’t see anything obviously wrong except it was a bit worn.  I told Julie that my bike felt wobbly – and the solution of course was to stop and eat biscuits.  Five chocolate biscuits later I felt better and so did my bike.

We were exhausted when we arrived at Les Cascades campground in St Rome du Tarn.  There was a bit of a wait at reception as the people in front of us seemed to have a complex checkin.  When we finally got served the lady said “Camping is 11 euros but because you waited so long I’ll only charge you 10”.  I think we looked as tired as we felt!

The next day it was raining when we woke up and we had to pack up in the rain – fortunately something we haven’t had to do often.  We followed the gorge to Millau, along a quiet road which ran beneath the World Famous Viaduct of Millau.  I hadn’t heard of it before, either.  It’s essentially a huge bridge spanning the gorge; kilometres long and well over a hundred metres above the ground in places- a motorway on stilts.

We arrived in Millau cold and wet.  We'd only cycled 20km but we had a big day ahead the next day and I needed a bike shop so we planned to stay in Millau.  The only question was where - camping or splash out on indoor accommodation?  In the rain and cold it really isn't a very difficult decision and we checked into a Gite.  I swear as soon as we arrived at the Gite it stopped raining and the sun came out.  Nevermind.  We took our bikes to the bike shop - both needed new chains - and I pointed at my rear tyre saying I thought I needed a new one. They peered at the cracks in the tyre and said something like "Tres Fatigue.  Il est dangeroux".  Oops.