Friday, August 1, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
On our way...
Tomorrow we're off to Ireland for a few days with the folks/in-laws, before heading back to the sweltering, animal hair-filled closet that is our apartment on Monday.
We may post from Ireland, but in the meantime, thanks for reading... we'll see you soon!
We may post from Ireland, but in the meantime, thanks for reading... we'll see you soon!
warm showers, or why the world is not actually a bad place
So there's an organisation for cyclotouristes called Warm Showers to which we belong. Its members offer up their homes / garages / showers or sofas to other cyclotouristes who may be passing through their places of domicile. Our sofa bed in Brooklyn is on offer, for example, although the only person who's showed any interest in touring through NYC on a bicycle had his five (count 'em!) kids in tow and I had to explain that it might be a bit of a squeeze, what with the dog, the cat, us, him, the five kids and the size of our apartment.
Anyway, we'd wanted to do a lot more warm showering on this trip than we did, mainly because our itinerary didn't really seem to collide with warm shower locations. Today's did, however, and that's how we came to make the acquaintance of the lovely Nico & Noelle.
After some initial confusion (did we or didn't we confirm the date and time of arrival? what number was their house? eeek! bloody hell we're vegetarians... and would we have imposed if we'd known that nico had a theatre opening that night AND that they have a 14-month year old boy with the most amazing blue eyes named Baptiste?) the evening ended up being one of the best of our whole trip (for us anyway). Our hosts were the epitome of congeniality: they were so lovely, charming, welcoming and warm, and so interesting to talk to, that the kilometres seemed to fall off like so many pebbles off our backs.
Anyway, we'd wanted to do a lot more warm showering on this trip than we did, mainly because our itinerary didn't really seem to collide with warm shower locations. Today's did, however, and that's how we came to make the acquaintance of the lovely Nico & Noelle.
After some initial confusion (did we or didn't we confirm the date and time of arrival? what number was their house? eeek! bloody hell we're vegetarians... and would we have imposed if we'd known that nico had a theatre opening that night AND that they have a 14-month year old boy with the most amazing blue eyes named Baptiste?) the evening ended up being one of the best of our whole trip (for us anyway). Our hosts were the epitome of congeniality: they were so lovely, charming, welcoming and warm, and so interesting to talk to, that the kilometres seemed to fall off like so many pebbles off our backs.
last biking day: savannieres to exhaustion
Today started out beautifully, with tartines with the lovely nico & noelle, who so graciously managed to insert us into their morning routine (getting two adults and a 14-month old washed, fed and out the door by 830...)without even seeming flapped. R & I loaded up the bikes, found the bike path, and pedalled on the 20km or so to Angers. The ride went right by the River Maine, through shaded forests and past squawking seabirds, and ended up suddenly in the middle of Angers by the chateau-forteresse. We peeked into the gardens (photos to hopefully follow) and walked around the grounds, but we didn't go into the chateau because we had nowhere to put our panniers, and Angers felt a little too big to just be leaving them in a car park. So no Tapestry of the Apocalypse for us. Sigh.
What really made us sigh was getting out of Angers. Or at least trying... definitely the closest we've come to a row all week. After circumnavigating the city and its environs for about an hour, we just rode in the direction that seemed most logical. It wasn't a bad choice, if a little too frequented by lorries, trucks, buses and lunatics for our taste, but it did, eventually, get us onto a bike path that led to our bike path. But not until Rich got a flat.
Neither of us had had one all trip. It was really only polite to let it happen on the last day.
Then came a really fun, fast (or as fast as we can handle with the paniers, which is about 16mph) spin into I-don't-remember-where-sur-Loire; we'd hit the 50km mark, which meant it was time for lunch. And beer. Mmmmm.
And back on the road, more spinning all the 26km into Saumur. We turned too soon and ended up hurtling over the four-lane heavy traffic bridge into the town, which was terrifying to put it mildly (Husband: Phew! I'm glad we made it over that bridge," pause "Oh look! There's the bike path..."). But it wasn't just the bike path, it was 86 000 bike paths all converging together under a bridge by the river (where, incidentally, a man had driven his car to, it seems, take its picture against a pretty background). And we had no idea which one to take. So we gave up and went to Decathlon, and then chose a route randomly and eventually found our way in.
The castle was really cool, if up an exceedingly steep hill, the likes of which we hadn't seen since Italy. But it was closed. And while we'd initially planned to go all the way to Chinon via Fontrevaud today, our bike computers were already reading 80km (or 50 miles) and the idea of half that again seemed just silly.
And so, somewhat unceremoniously, we headed to the train station and wangled our way onto one of the few TGVs to Paris (there was an SNCF strike, bien sur!), whence we write to you now. Bonjour!
What really made us sigh was getting out of Angers. Or at least trying... definitely the closest we've come to a row all week. After circumnavigating the city and its environs for about an hour, we just rode in the direction that seemed most logical. It wasn't a bad choice, if a little too frequented by lorries, trucks, buses and lunatics for our taste, but it did, eventually, get us onto a bike path that led to our bike path. But not until Rich got a flat.
Neither of us had had one all trip. It was really only polite to let it happen on the last day.
Then came a really fun, fast (or as fast as we can handle with the paniers, which is about 16mph) spin into I-don't-remember-where-sur-Loire; we'd hit the 50km mark, which meant it was time for lunch. And beer. Mmmmm.
And back on the road, more spinning all the 26km into Saumur. We turned too soon and ended up hurtling over the four-lane heavy traffic bridge into the town, which was terrifying to put it mildly (Husband: Phew! I'm glad we made it over that bridge," pause "Oh look! There's the bike path..."). But it wasn't just the bike path, it was 86 000 bike paths all converging together under a bridge by the river (where, incidentally, a man had driven his car to, it seems, take its picture against a pretty background). And we had no idea which one to take. So we gave up and went to Decathlon, and then chose a route randomly and eventually found our way in.
The castle was really cool, if up an exceedingly steep hill, the likes of which we hadn't seen since Italy. But it was closed. And while we'd initially planned to go all the way to Chinon via Fontrevaud today, our bike computers were already reading 80km (or 50 miles) and the idea of half that again seemed just silly.
And so, somewhat unceremoniously, we headed to the train station and wangled our way onto one of the few TGVs to Paris (there was an SNCF strike, bien sur!), whence we write to you now. Bonjour!
Nantes - Savennieres
Another beautiful day on the bikes. This day had everything: long flats, a steep, long climb, wind, a tiny (tiny) bit of rain, and many many turns of the pedals. The total mileage on the day was just shy of 100km.
Our stay the night before was in a really cute hotel in Nantes that had only been open for 2 months and was being run by people who got their hotelling chops sharpened at the Four Seasons. The place, The Hotel Saint-Yves, was smack in the middle of a busy block but once you walked in the door it was like you were sitting in the middle of a country kitchen. We met an 82 year-old man who had recently completed a 250km ride all on cobbles. Wow. He was sweet and very concerned with how many gears we had on our bikes.
Around midday (before the wind, after the main climbing) we hit a town at the top of a colline that seemed abandoned, with one restaurant open. Once inside though, we saw every man (they were all men) from the 5 closest towns eating their lunch buffet. We were a tad on the late side, so by the time we had finished our carbo-load lunch the place was absent its 45 other diners and we were the only two that remained. Nicky was chatting with the lovely couple that runs the place when she was told the story of the birth of the town:
Now you know that is a tale that I can get behind...
Right.
Most of the mileage took place in the rolling wine hills of the Loire valley. A hot, muggy day meant that many of the expansive views were cut a little short, but everything was playing out to be just a great day. But the mugginess gave way to a breeze-and a stiff headwind developed that wound up near-destroying our morale. Our speed dropped and our legs began to ache. We anxiously awaited each town, but they were far apart and mostly drab and none of them had ice cream. We needed ice cream. We never got it. When we finally limped into Savennieres, nothing was open and there were no restaurants to find with moving lore. We were at rock-bottom. Awaiting the return home from work of our night's hosts (see Nicky's post about the goodness in the world), we mustered the strength to go to the next town in the hopes of finding a beer. Which we did (well, I did, Nicky had wine..).
And like most things that start with beer, the rest of the evening proved to be one of my favorite things about the whole trip.
Our stay the night before was in a really cute hotel in Nantes that had only been open for 2 months and was being run by people who got their hotelling chops sharpened at the Four Seasons. The place, The Hotel Saint-Yves, was smack in the middle of a busy block but once you walked in the door it was like you were sitting in the middle of a country kitchen. We met an 82 year-old man who had recently completed a 250km ride all on cobbles. Wow. He was sweet and very concerned with how many gears we had on our bikes.
Around midday (before the wind, after the main climbing) we hit a town at the top of a colline that seemed abandoned, with one restaurant open. Once inside though, we saw every man (they were all men) from the 5 closest towns eating their lunch buffet. We were a tad on the late side, so by the time we had finished our carbo-load lunch the place was absent its 45 other diners and we were the only two that remained. Nicky was chatting with the lovely couple that runs the place when she was told the story of the birth of the town:
Local legend has it that Gargantua put one giant foot in Nantes and the other in Angers, and relieved himself of his solid waste. That relief, the story goes, was the town of Bouzillac.
Now you know that is a tale that I can get behind...
Right.
Most of the mileage took place in the rolling wine hills of the Loire valley. A hot, muggy day meant that many of the expansive views were cut a little short, but everything was playing out to be just a great day. But the mugginess gave way to a breeze-and a stiff headwind developed that wound up near-destroying our morale. Our speed dropped and our legs began to ache. We anxiously awaited each town, but they were far apart and mostly drab and none of them had ice cream. We needed ice cream. We never got it. When we finally limped into Savennieres, nothing was open and there were no restaurants to find with moving lore. We were at rock-bottom. Awaiting the return home from work of our night's hosts (see Nicky's post about the goodness in the world), we mustered the strength to go to the next town in the hopes of finding a beer. Which we did (well, I did, Nicky had wine..).
And like most things that start with beer, the rest of the evening proved to be one of my favorite things about the whole trip.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Quiberon - Vannes (...uuhh then Nantes)
As Nicky's post about yesterday hinted: riding here in France (when healthy) is more like riding and less like getting repeatedly punched in the face by hill after hill until just before you give in and then realizing it's time for a glass of red and some shuteye. We've had two picture-perfect days in a row: today covered more territory, 78km, but it was just as great as the day before. I think I'm over the sickness hurdle, so we were up early and back the 20km to Carnac by 9. Brekkies and a coffee and we were off along a beach road and over to Locmarquier, where we saw more big old rocks. At least I think we did. We had a guided tour at an archaeological site, but it was in French, so I only got about 23% The guide was clearly awesome though, and I knew every time he mentioned an animal either because Nicky had already taught me the word or because her face lit up. Menhirs and Dolmens oh my! Really I was happy that I understood as much as I did and the formations were pretty cool (though I'm pretty sure that Nicky's favorite part was the end when the guide told her a story about the hedgehog that used to follow his tours).
More riding on to Auray, which proudly and justifiably bills itself as a Ville Touriste. It was beautiful. Straight out of a movie. We had ridden and seen a lot so we had a three hour lunch in the old port. A bottle of Sancere, fish stew, and enough passing chiens to thrill us near-endlessly. But it had to end, so back on the bikes it was. After a brief mixup which had N headed towards the superhighway and me on another overpass yelling Ici!! ICI!! and knowing she couldn't hear me (or see that far without her lunettes). Yet we made it through a mighty headwind to Vannes. From there we trained it here (Nantes) to make up for the days lost to my illness.
A lovely day.
Some time, you should ask me to tell you about the people sitting next to us at dinner tonight. Wow.
R
More riding on to Auray, which proudly and justifiably bills itself as a Ville Touriste. It was beautiful. Straight out of a movie. We had ridden and seen a lot so we had a three hour lunch in the old port. A bottle of Sancere, fish stew, and enough passing chiens to thrill us near-endlessly. But it had to end, so back on the bikes it was. After a brief mixup which had N headed towards the superhighway and me on another overpass yelling Ici!! ICI!! and knowing she couldn't hear me (or see that far without her lunettes). Yet we made it through a mighty headwind to Vannes. From there we trained it here (Nantes) to make up for the days lost to my illness.
A lovely day.
Some time, you should ask me to tell you about the people sitting next to us at dinner tonight. Wow.
R
Obama abroad
on the cover, too. I know many don't care, but I for one am psyched to
see America at least glanced at in a more positive way. Or even just a
curious one.
It's really strange to bike down streets in different towns and have
them be named after US presidents. To think that other people kind of
admired the person who fit that job description. That would be pretty
cool.
Either it's...
side pizza vending machine (in just 3 minutes!!) does indeed exist. We
were both too chicken to buy one-most likely because all of the
goodness and light was being sucked from its vicinity in order to
supply the required power.
Called the Barakapizz, it is not officially part of Barack Obama's
campaign fundraising scheme. I don't think it is anyway...
Sheeps and stones may break my bones...
took a picture of them together!
Saturday: Port Louis - Quiberon
alors... Well, R decided that he wanted to ride, even if it meant a diet of rice cakes, bananas and flat "Breizh Cola" for the journey. Incidentally, we befriended the owner of the alimentation here - charming gentlerman who introduced us to his friend the snail, who's been living upside down on the ceiling of his shop for two months now and hasn't changed position once. Anyway...
We kept it to about 35 miles, in glorious weather and on quiet, rolling country roads. It really was lovely. Our first stop was Carnac, where we rode around the various megalithic sites and made friends with the sheep grazing by the stones. Seems that every cycling tour we do has to involve standing stones and sheep. Not sure what that means.
After Carnac, we set off down the 10 mile isthmus that is the Presqu'ile de Quiberon, and it's a wind-beaten, sandy almost-island alright. A lot of it is wild, and the trees all look like cartoon combovers, gelled in one direction by an always-westerly wind. At the end of the isthmus lay Quiberon itself, a kind of parody of any other seaside resort. Think boardwalks, candy floss, dodgems, unforgiveable bathing attire and souvenir shops along the strand. And crazy cat lady hotel owners who purchase pets based on expected longevity. And hotels with plastic sheets and lingering cigar fumes.
Not that we're complaining, mind you. We found Barbapapa egg cups, and Rich got his Breton sweater, and we hopped on our bikes again and rode out to a lookout over the Bay. Bici & Velo, sans 40 lb panniers, felt like Angel Delight...
We kept it to about 35 miles, in glorious weather and on quiet, rolling country roads. It really was lovely. Our first stop was Carnac, where we rode around the various megalithic sites and made friends with the sheep grazing by the stones. Seems that every cycling tour we do has to involve standing stones and sheep. Not sure what that means.
After Carnac, we set off down the 10 mile isthmus that is the Presqu'ile de Quiberon, and it's a wind-beaten, sandy almost-island alright. A lot of it is wild, and the trees all look like cartoon combovers, gelled in one direction by an always-westerly wind. At the end of the isthmus lay Quiberon itself, a kind of parody of any other seaside resort. Think boardwalks, candy floss, dodgems, unforgiveable bathing attire and souvenir shops along the strand. And crazy cat lady hotel owners who purchase pets based on expected longevity. And hotels with plastic sheets and lingering cigar fumes.
Not that we're complaining, mind you. We found Barbapapa egg cups, and Rich got his Breton sweater, and we hopped on our bikes again and rode out to a lookout over the Bay. Bici & Velo, sans 40 lb panniers, felt like Angel Delight...
Friday, June 6, 2008
Extra Day
With Rich needing a lot of rest and recovery after his illness, he
slept much of the morning away. After some amazing prune pastry
concoction and the best coffee I've had since Italy, I decided to
meander along the Breton coast to the next town. There and back, it
was about 8 miles along lovely deserted coastline, past numerous
shipwrecks that looked like they'd been lying abandoned for years, and
a delapidated chateau, turrets n'all. Sadly, my phone was charging &
so I have no postable pics; we'll have to wait for the flickr upload
when we get back to Bklyn.
slept much of the morning away. After some amazing prune pastry
concoction and the best coffee I've had since Italy, I decided to
meander along the Breton coast to the next town. There and back, it
was about 8 miles along lovely deserted coastline, past numerous
shipwrecks that looked like they'd been lying abandoned for years, and
a delapidated chateau, turrets n'all. Sadly, my phone was charging &
so I have no postable pics; we'll have to wait for the flickr upload
when we get back to Bklyn.
Anyway, when I got to the town (Locmardieq, I think), the market was
ending, so I picked up some excellent cheese and tomatoes and a Breton
bread called a "Dolmen" to share with the sick one. By the time I got
back, he had been sitting in the sun outside the hotel for about an
hour, absolutely famished (a good sign), but after a picnic, a stroll
around the citadel and some time spent staring into rockpools, he
immediately needed another nap. As did I. This is a really lovely
village, but it's still off-season and very quiet, and there are only
so many times a girl can go into the Celtic bar and drink ethically
produced tisanes with the surly bartender (who dresses and looks like
an Arthurian pirate, if that's possible)and his pine cone retrieving
golden lab, Flynn...
Anyway, barring further incident (such as me contracting this bug), we
should be out of here tomorrow and heading down to the Presqu'ile de
Quiberon. It's only about 30 miles, but we feel uncomfortable doing
any more til we're sure R is mended.
Tomorrow's ride goes through Carnac, so hopefully we'll get some
photos of the menhirs and dolmens to post for any remaining readers we
might have.
Oh! And if you are reading, please comment. We love reading them, and
their mere presence lets us know we're not just blethering into the
cybervoid...
N
Not norovirus...
been for two days. Not bad. The reason we are here at all is a bit of
a modification to our original plans. It seems each bike tour we do
must have one grand unforeseen variable that changes our plans:
Scotland had gale force winds and rain, France had the stomach flu. I
hadn't been feeling well as we left Paris a few days ago, and things
came to a stopping point yesterday out on the road after 45km (nowhere
near as bad as norovirus, but bad nonetheless). Nicky kindly demanded
that we stop in the next town and stay the night. That's why we're
here. We went to a French doctor (who opened his doors at 5pm!) and
were seen right away. Ahh the benefits of 1. A state funded universal
health care system, and 2. A lovely wife who speaks French. He gave me
some perscriptions and suggested we not ride today. So we didn't. And,
feeling much better today, Nicky and I had a picnic and a dander.
We've (more like she's) canceled our upcoming reservations and have re-
plotted our course. All-in-all, a minor setback, and we could have been
stuck in far uglier towns. Off to find a Breton sweater!
R
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Brittany is very connected to the land
to go to this. Sadly, though, it's happening about 50 miles in the
wrong direction. Sigh.
Tuesday/Wednesday
Tuesday went by in a tumultuous flurry of transportation and logistical nightmares. After having queued for an hour for the Uffizi (only to be told it would be at least another hour til we'd get in) we gave up & headed over to the Oltr'Arno for some grub. Then came: getting bikes from hotel to station, dismantling said bikes and squishing them into bags, waiting an hour for a train, train starting then stopping in another station and just sitting there for an hour or two, changing trains, getting to airport in Pisa and then waiting for easyjet to board our delayed flight. We were not-so-secretly overjoyed that we landed too late to take the RER into Paris, and so it was with a lot of enthusiasm that we convinced a taxi driver that yes he could indeed fit our bikes in his cab. And it was amazing to come into the courtyard of KR's lovely apartment to be greeted by two maudlin felines wondering who the hell we were coming in at such an hour.
The next morning wasn't much easier: get bikes ( in bags) to the gare montparnasse (thanks for checking, Dad) by metro (of course, it being the start of the month, all the Parisians were queueing for their cartes oranges)... Get on the TGV - first class, thanks to some crazy fare system that made it cheaper than anything else - arrive in Quimper, negotiate 824 roundabouts and several dual carriageways (four-lane highways) and ride 30-odd miles to Pont Aven.
The next morning wasn't much easier: get bikes ( in bags) to the gare montparnasse (thanks for checking, Dad) by metro (of course, it being the start of the month, all the Parisians were queueing for their cartes oranges)... Get on the TGV - first class, thanks to some crazy fare system that made it cheaper than anything else - arrive in Quimper, negotiate 824 roundabouts and several dual carriageways (four-lane highways) and ride 30-odd miles to Pont Aven.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
San Gimignano - Firenze Redux
Quoth David Byrne: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh What a day that was.
So as Nicky wrote yesterday, the elevation chart was right, and we spent the 60km day either struggling up along a vineyard ridge or coasting down from hilltown to valley. There was no in between. I think we had about 30 pedal strokes on flat ground and that was it. I quite enjoyed the day, though every time I said that it was at the top of a hill and Nicky would shoot me a glare. There were loads of other cyclists out on what was a beautiful day-though not many of them had panniers...
Oh. There was also the fact that it was Sunday in Italy on a holiday weekend and nothing was open. After pushing ourselves to the limit climbing 3km at 10% gradient into San Casciano we were on the hunt for food. But it was a ghost town-except one restaurant, where we collapsed into our food with such intent that had a dog walked by, we would have probably shown IT our teeth.
Eventually the locals trickled onto the street and the town came alive. We finished our meal and got back on our velos. The ride to Firenze was almost all downhill - and we caught glimpses of the Duomo in all of its ridiculous hugeness from miles away. Florence, sittling like a pancake in the middle of hills and mountains in eveery direction. When we got in Nicky took a nap and I treked over to my old hood to see the school and the old architecture studios. 10 years ago and it pretty much looks the same.
All in all it was a fitting end to the hilltown week.
We're getting ready to leave for the Pisa airport in a few hours, with a stop first at the Uffizi galleries so Nicky can see Botticellis. France looks like it's going to be all flatness and frites. Perfect!
Also: Thanks to Josh and Sarah for the hotel recommendation. The place was great and our hosts were super sweet.
Next time from France!
R
So as Nicky wrote yesterday, the elevation chart was right, and we spent the 60km day either struggling up along a vineyard ridge or coasting down from hilltown to valley. There was no in between. I think we had about 30 pedal strokes on flat ground and that was it. I quite enjoyed the day, though every time I said that it was at the top of a hill and Nicky would shoot me a glare. There were loads of other cyclists out on what was a beautiful day-though not many of them had panniers...
Oh. There was also the fact that it was Sunday in Italy on a holiday weekend and nothing was open. After pushing ourselves to the limit climbing 3km at 10% gradient into San Casciano we were on the hunt for food. But it was a ghost town-except one restaurant, where we collapsed into our food with such intent that had a dog walked by, we would have probably shown IT our teeth.
Eventually the locals trickled onto the street and the town came alive. We finished our meal and got back on our velos. The ride to Firenze was almost all downhill - and we caught glimpses of the Duomo in all of its ridiculous hugeness from miles away. Florence, sittling like a pancake in the middle of hills and mountains in eveery direction. When we got in Nicky took a nap and I treked over to my old hood to see the school and the old architecture studios. 10 years ago and it pretty much looks the same.
All in all it was a fitting end to the hilltown week.
We're getting ready to leave for the Pisa airport in a few hours, with a stop first at the Uffizi galleries so Nicky can see Botticellis. France looks like it's going to be all flatness and frites. Perfect!
Also: Thanks to Josh and Sarah for the hotel recommendation. The place was great and our hosts were super sweet.
Next time from France!
R
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