I accidentally rode 100 miles today. When the canal went right I went left up into a detour of the French hills. And when I say hills I mean rrrrolling hills.
I thought it’d be nice to document my self imposed torture
The riding was just awful. Wind in my face, steep incline after steep incline, cobbled roads, and no shade. Do not take that wrong turn between Paray-Le-Monial and Chalon-Sur-Saône.
The hills managed to drain the color from this landscape but they couldn’t steal my forced smile
Once I realized, however, that my wrong turn would ratchet today’s mileage up from 90 to 100 miles, I felt especially motivated. How many people have ridden a bicycle 100 miles in a single day? A few hundred thousand maybe? Fewer still on a bike weighed down by gear.
Today’s Pullup Challenge
Now that I’ve patted myself on the back we can return to the narrative.
During the second third of the ride my knee pain flared up again and I considered taking the train from Blanzy to my destination. But I pedaled on instead and the knee pain vanished. I’m getting more comfortable making changes to the bike and am better at intuiting what needs fixing. Two things I wanted out of this journey.
Today’s ride was beautiful despite being torturous
I’m at a budget hotel on the outskirts of Chalon Sur Saône; it’s nothing to write blog about.
The only open restaurant within walking distance was a kebab place. No veg items on the menu but the cook mercifully made me a wrap filled with some veggies and french fries. Not bad! After 100 miles she could have poured me a bowl of sand and I’d have eaten it.
Onward tomorrow to Dole. At this pace, I might finish the trip in two months instead of the three I’d planned.
Bharti and I met for breakfast at 8 am. More bread. More honey. More croissants. Lots of coffee. I’m gonna need some insoluble fiber soon…
One of many canal locks on today’s ride
We rode from Nevers to Dicez at which point we stopped at a supermarket to buy lunch. We enjoyed our victuals at a nice bench along the Canal Lateral Le Loire. I was lucky to find prepared lentils, some carrots, and walnut bread. Delicious.
Today marked a departure of sorts. Until now, I have stayed on the EuroVelo6 route. Roads labeled D in France allow cyclists but don’t have a designated bike lane.
The D road took a more or less direct route to where we were headed without sacrificing waterfront views. So we left the familiar blue EV6 signs and ventured off onto the French freeway. I suggest you do the same.
Bourbon-Lancy views
French drivers are unfailingly courteous to cyclists. A theory I heard and like is that more people bike in France so they can empathize with cyclists. Or maybe American drivers are just insane. Either way, the ride along the D road was pleasant and well paved.
Bharti and I split in Bourbon-Lancy. I headed straight for my Airbnb.
This is where I stayed. I recommend it if you’re riding through Bourbon-Lancy
I mentioned this last post, but Borboun-Lancy is somewhat famous for its thermal baths. France, on the other hand, is infamous for its relaxed work culture (go France!). So at 6 pm, I learned that the one thermal bath that didn’t burn down in last week’s blaze was only open until 7 pm. If I didn’t make it tonight then I’d never go because the bath wouldn’t reopen until 4 pm the next day at which point I’d be long gone. ‘Well shit, I better hurry!’ I thought.
I’ll spare you the topless photo of me at the baths
I got ready and headed straight for CeltO thermal baths where I arrived with 45 minutes to spare. I handed over my 18.50eur, took my sandals from the front desk, and plodded into the changing rooms.
More of Bourbon-Lancy’s beauty
These thermal baths were just what the doctor ordered. CeltO had a jacuzzi, a fine bubble bath, a waterfall with enough force to massage my shoulders and thighs, a sauna, and, best of all, a menthol steam room with a large cold water pool in the center. I had no intention to leave of my own volition but they (politely) kicked me out just before 7 pm.
I set out for dinner still high from the thermal bath. The town of Bourbon-Lancy is picturesque. It sits high on a hill with a panoramic view of the river valley below.
Said view
What to eat in Bourbon-Lancy? Head to La Grignote and do yourself the favor of ordering the escargot crepe, some local red wine, and a honey and citron crepe for dessert like I did. That’s what.
La Grignotte means The Nibble, according to Google Translate, and nibble I did
The escargot crepe was divine. A pretty looking turquoise sauce, meaty escargot with just that perfect forest-floor taste (not that I’ve ever tasted a forest floor), and the best lemon slice I’ve ever had — sweet with just a slightly sour kick to the back of the throat.
Tomorrow I’ll ride to Chalon Sur Saône content in knowing that Borboun-Lancy is awesome.
Last night was much colder and wetter than I expected it would be. Not much sleep was had. But I’m glad I experienced camping in the cold. The worst-case scenario of a went tent and cold sleeping bag is, in fact, no real problem at all.
Nice campsite, but good god was I cold
The ride from Orleans to Gien was scenic. Gien itself is no bueno. Everything is closed. There isn’t much here that could be open, to begin with. The hotel I’m staying at is dry, which at this point is all I care about. I dried my tent then walked into Gien. Not a whole lot there, but I got a falafel wrap, sat, and read on the river for a bit.
Gien up close
Tomorrow is on to Nevers, which seems like it has more going on.
Chateau Chambord is situated within a massive nature preserve. Riding up to the chateau was pretty cool. The white castle-like building appears out of a wooded forest. A small farmer’s market was set up on the grounds.
A Breakfast of Peons
Helmet head at Chambord
The Green Machine posing scandalously
After tooling around the chateau grounds, meeting a nature photographer out in the preserve, and asking why they were flying the American flag (some conference is on), I went over to the market and bought a pastry, some goat cheese and strawberries in anticipation of dinner and dessert at tonight’s campsite, which is just past Orleans.
The ride to Orleans felt long with intermittent rain, a tender knee, and the lingering thought that I miss talking to fluent English speakers. I’ve even found myself listening to whatever downloaded podcasts I could. Currently Bon Apetit Foodcast: Steaming Chicken Breasts…skin on or skin off? I’ll soon know.
The chèvre guy!
Chambord’s bounty
Pullup challenge at Orleans
Pullup challenge at camp
A doctor who recently moved from Paris & invited me to eat some cherries
This leg takes you through a cherry town
Getting unlost (found?) while trying to explore this nuclear plant
I biked a kilometer out of camp to a bakery where I bought a delicious baguette to go along with my cheese and, how shall I put this, my fresh strawberries turned coulis. Fantastic!
This morning brought with it a clear head and a cloudy sky. I found an open bike shop and ventured out into the pouring rain with The Green Machine to fix its flat. Twenty minutes and two saturated shoes later I arrived at the shop. An hour wait they told me. There went my dreams of an early start.
Flat Tire, meet Pouring Rain
I left the shop on foot in search of a dry place to get a quick coffee and breakfast. A Starbucks was nearby so I ordered a croissant and an Americano.
The Tours Starbucks is like…every other Starbucks
Soon after sitting down I heard American English and I perked up. A man named James and his wife, Betty-Ann, and I got to talking. With my knee injury, my flat tire, the rain, and my newfound solitude, I was feeling a bit lonely. Talking with James and Betty-Ann was an instant cure. James is a recovering lawyer who coincidentally spent a lot of time in upstate New York too. We talked legal careers, bikes, travel, and laughed about how ashamed we were to be at a Starbucks in France, the world’s capital of cafe culture.
It was time to pick up my bicycle. , I walked back to the bike shop during a brief break in the rain. 15euros later and I was on my way. That is until the bike mechanic gave me a quizzical look, “Where you ride today?”
“Orleans,” I replied.
“You maybe not go today. 70km winds. Very dangerous.”
I thanked him for the heads up and made my way to the train station. With a still-hurting knee and the prospect of torrential winds and rain, I decided to take the short train ride to Blois where I’d recuperate before riding into Orleans.
Detours de Loire is a great shop in Tours, France
Blois is a strange town caught between Tours and Orleans. I found a room in some kind of compound. Not quite a hostel but not a hotel either. The weather is bad. Howling winds. Cafeteria-style dinner. I asked them to pile on the couscous and they certainly did.
Dinner in Blois
Tomorrow I’ll be back in the saddle and riding to Chateau Chambord then Orleans.
(I’ve developed a sort of mantra over the past few days. Anytime negative or anxious thoughts start taking hold I simply remind myself to Leave The Room. Good things happen every time I leave my room.)
The pain in my knee was no better today. So I took the train from Saumur to Tours and let it heal in the meantime.
Nothing to complain about in Tours. It is a picturesque town with timber-framed medieval houses and restaurants.
The embodiment of my knee pain
Once I made it to Tours, I tinkered with my seat height and the pain all but subsided. With a new lease on leg, I spent the day riding around Tours exploring its every site and sidestreet.
On the steps of Saint Martin’s Basilica stood a man politely asking for spare change. He thanked me for the small amount of change I’d handed him then asked about my journey. As soon as he heard my American accent he blurted: “Trump, es he insane?” I nodded.
Lunchtime
Tours has a vegan restaurant called Tahina, which is where I stopped for lunch. I recommend it!
I don’t know whether to be upset or grateful. But before dinner last night I got my front derailleur fixed by a professional. At 4 am, I awoke to a loud whooshing noise! ‘Hm,’ I thought, ‘the person next door must have to wake up really early to shower for work…wait, not that’s not a shower.’ I slid out from under the covers and put my ear near The Green Machine. ‘Shit.’ My rear tire tube was expelling every last bit of its air.
I did the only thing I could do and went back to sleep.
Will and I said our goodbyes this morning then parted ways.
Near the end of yesterday’s ride, I felt pain on the outside of my left knee. Today the pain kept me from riding more than five minutes at a time.
I made it to Saumur after what felt like 20 hours of riding. I had planned on riding all the way to Tours today, which is about 115km. But the pain was so bad that I cried mercy in Saumur and jumped at the last sub-100euro hotel in town. To add insult to injury, in the truest sense, one of my three water bottles fell out en route. In the words of Timon, our trio’s down to two.
Today’s ride sucked. But what began as a painful trudge turned into a nice evening. There is a fantastic little place in Saumur called 1929. I walked in and immediately heard, “Take your seat and I will take care of you!” And take care of me they did. I ordered the mushroom pate and an open sandwich with chevre, honey, and walnuts.
We packed up the campsite in Ancenis and set our sights on Angers. The weather was overcast and damp after overnight rain. Will and I set a leisurely pace riding through green wetlands.
We stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant and had the prix-fixe menu and some espresso. I’ll never turn down white asparagus. Apparently it’s just regular asparagus grown underground?
A couple of breakfast beers too…
After a patisserie pit stop ( I had the most decadent almond croissant), we made it to Angers.
There is a great bar along the Loire on the way into Angers. Will and I stopped there and shared—you guessed it—another bottle of wine. It started to sink in that Will was leaving the next morning. I ignored any sadness and just dig into the fun we were having.
Bike path bar at Angers
We buzzedly made it to our hotel, dropped off our bikes, and ventured out for some food. Within a half a block we got distracted by the Delirium Beer brewhouse. I opted for an 8.5% cherry beer thinking that at that high of an ABV it couldn’t be sweet. I was wrong. No problem though. We happily downed our beers and waxed poetic about all things ethics, relationships, and our grand plans for the future.
The night continued on in this fashion punctuated by a quick stop for falafel wraps.
Will and I were intent on tasting wines today. We detoured anytime we saw what looked like an open winery.
Our first detour was a town up on top of a massive hill. An unassuming house with a sign that read “Vigneron” caught our attention so we stopped. Will knocked on the door and asked in his very broken French if we could taste some wine. To our surprise, she said yes and led us into a cellar with seven or eight large wine drums.
Sunscreen and Wine
The owner generously let us try as many wines as we wished. Will stuck to the reds but since we were in the Loire Valley, I gave her white wines a try. First up: a Muscadet. Delicious. Almost effervescent. We progressed like this tasting a few others until we reached her sparkling wine. I’m not exaggerating when I say that this was the best sparkling wine I’ve ever tasted. I can’t image a bona fide champagne that could outdo it. We bought two bottles at something like 2eur apiece.
Le Loire
With all this biking and drinking we started getting hungry. Just our luck then that a small canteen was open and serving a 12eur three-course lunch with a salad buffet. We’ll take two, please. I paired my lunch with a refreshing rosé. Will went with the house red.
Then it was onward over rolling hills paired with occasional Loire River sightings to the next winery where we met a cool young guy working at his parent’s winery who was eager to talk to us about their wines and California.
Will and I pedaled until we ran into a campsite outside of a fishing town called Ancenis. We took our time getting the campsite set up as our hunger grew. Once settled, we walked into Ancenis for something to eat. Every single restaurant was closed or closing. Every. Single. One. So it was back to the campsite cursing the wretched town of Ancenis every step of the way.
That’s France for you
The campground had a plot for cyclists
We finished the night with handfuls of the trail mix I made for the trip and washed it down with sparkling wine straight from the bottle. A fitting end to a nutty day. As I said to Will: today was the best bike ride of my life. What’s better than riding bikes, eating food, and drinking wine with a best friend? Not much.
I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you about my pullup challenge. I love pullups. Everything about them. The skill they take to be done right. Their simplicity. The endorphin rush afterward. Just everything about them. This love has compelled me to challenge myself to do at least 8 pullups on every pullup bar I pass on this trip. Tonight I found my first pullup bar hidden behind some bushes at the campsite. What a privilege!
Once I made it to the hotel in Nantes, I went to the hotel bar to fill up my water bottle. Nobody was around so I reached over the bar to help myself. A big no-no. The attendant whipped around the corner and curtly said, “If you need water, why don’t you just ask.” Fair enough. She dutifully filled up my water bottle four or five times over the next 16 hours and, I think, regretted the water rule.
Falafel and (hotel) water…
I finally met up with will after a couple of falafel wraps and about 30 minutes getting lost trying to find him. What a reunion. We sat down to a bottle of wine, Will ordered his signature two entrees and we enjoyed the hell out of each other’s company.
We called the night early so we’d be ready to ride the next morning.
