howlonghowfar

So Ive left France eventually, for those of you not that interested in reading about the last few months from Switzerland, I have a summary for you:

It was cold, it rained A LOT.

It snowed to the point that I was stuck with roads impassable and passes closed. I spent November in St Alban because I wanted to, this was perhaps unwise as when I wanted to leave I was alarmed to be stranded by the weather and at its beck and call.

Switzerland is fabulous and expensive, though typically the value for money is good, France is a great country to travel through especially by bike and even more so on the Camino. I still cant explain why the French cant flush a toilet or in my experience communal ones, cant turn left without first turning right or produce good pop music.

The plumbing has improved dramatically in the last 10years and I don’t mean squat toilets, they never bothered me. The food in general, wine, sausages and cheese are each enough of a reason to visit. The people particularly out of the cities are great having lost much of their aloof attitude. I was surprised at how close I came to holding conversations in French, this may perhaps be part of my improved take on the people. This time 90% of the locals I spoke or spent time with were great, just great. I cant say if this is due to luck, a change in my attitude or my improved ability to communicate in French, I suspect its a mixture of all three.

It took some time before I had a decent meal in France that I didn’t cook myself, but once I broke the pattern man was it good! The roast duck thighs in Lectoure were really special.

The French seemingly still cant roast a chicken, if you get a roast chicken thigh in your Menu, I can guarantee it will be stringy, but this is probably a function of stingy cooking times or just my bad luck, probably. On the whole when driving they are decent to cyclists, though there is a man known to me as “le idiot de Gers” and a girl both of whom I would happily flail the skin from their backs.

The Gites are generally easy, uncomplicated to use and warm a great place to visit and perhaps to stay.

To my great surprise the snow began to fall in Aire-sur-l`Adour so as I left I bought a cheap fleece. I had expected a day or two of milder weather, but it wasn’t to be. I had my sights set on Maslacq  but as I arrived in Arzacq-Arrazguet my engine was failing, so I got myself to the Gite. They had a prehistoric PC connected to a HomePlug network, so I borrowed the adapter and network cable and had an excellent couple of “connected days” from my room. From there Navarrenx wasn’t such an arduous day and I felt I had Saint Jean Pied De Port in my grasp,however the weather had other ideas.

I had a good sleep in Navarrenx and got my clothes washed. I left the next morning with the expectation of reaching Saint Jean Pied De Port. The rain wasn’t that heavy the next morning, but it didn’t stop and only gained intensity as the day progressed, so by the time I reached Mauleon-Licharre I felt as though I had been in the shower for two hours.

I met this chick in a small town just before Navarrenx and could  not resist including her.

I really wasn’t prepared for what was ahead of me, Col d`Osquich meant nothing to me, it was only 400m and I basically ignored it. However by the time I had reached Ordinarp I had an idea of what was coming. The wind was gusting from either the south or from the west and thankfully very few people were abroad and there were few cars as the gusts were blowing me all over the road.

Somewhere during my slow ascent to the summit I stopped at a junction for a drink. The trees were practising their complete wind/ tree sound effect repertoire and the sign post beside me was thrumming like a recently struck  over-tight guitar string. As I drank and took a breather, the rain in concert with the wind and trees exercised an effects repertoire that the BBC would be proud of, it was at this point that I decided that even though Id never been in a Monsoon today qualified.

Despite raining heavily, the wind added layers of texture to the rain pattern like animated graphics driven by music, waves or showers of rain would pass across the layer of water already on the road, not  unlike someone passing a shower-head over an already filled bath.

It was pretty late by the time I had reached Larceveau and as there was a Gite there I decided to cycle the last 20km in the morning. There wasn’t any public phone and when I asked in the Pharmacy, the woman let me  use her phone.  I only got the answering machine and her good deed didn’t go unpunished as she then had to spend five minutes mopping up the water that gravity had forced off me and my clothing onto her floor.

Heading out the door I asked a customer if she was from the town and if she knew where the Gite was. “Its my Gite” she said “and its full”. Full I asked, at this time of year? She mumbled something  and I told her in English that I was scunnered with places advertising themselves as open all year. I don’t know if she understood the words, but she looked embarrassed enough by my tone., I know I’m such a lovely boy.

Anyway I went to the Hotel down the road and it too was closed, after explaining my predicament, I was given a staff/ emergency room and was delighted. Not much longer after I was sitting in the seat/ bath thing filed it with cold water, I offset the plug slowly brought my temperature up, after three fills I was on warmish water and ready for a dry chapter to end my very wet day.

The next morning the weather had cleared again, the contrast between the two days quite staggering and I took these shots.

Saint Jean Pied De Port was an easy and quick cycle and I arrived at the Municipal Gite long before lunch. After lunch I headed to the Post Office to collect all my post that had been waiting for me since I had been stuck in the Massif Central.

That done, I spent a couple of nights at the Gite made some minor but significant changes to the bike and caught a cold.

This is the Basque locals doing their thang:

By the third night at the Gite I was quite ill and moved next door, but it was no place to get over the cold and finally ended up staying at Tim`s B&B for two weeks. Tim is quite a character and I enjoyed listening to his stories. We had dinner a couple of times, he did the cooking  and I brought the wine, as I had found a reasonably good Madiran at the supermarket we had that twice.

There is a Basque bar where I would have eaten lunch and dinner every night if I could have afforded it. This is a Mutton stew that’s simply marvelous.

Tim’s place was well above budget but I had a good bed, a warm room and wifi. I did a lot of sleeping and after a week was feeling significantly better, the rest and some medicine the Pharmacist gave me helped.

Or alternatively “Gers, pays de Gascogne et d’Armagnac“

It was quite a cycle to Lectoure, more like my usual distance, but still a little too much.

It was raining, not too cold but arriving in Moissac the light wasn’t exactly ideal for photographs, the Moissac link will take you to a description of the Abbeye of St Peter that will satisfy all curiosity and save me boring you more than necessary. I took a few shots and then headed for the canal a section of the route I had looked forward to.

No traffic a good surface are ideal conditions for making some distance and it its not that bad looking either. I was that intent on my route with the canal that I missed my first turn and had Valence not gotten in the way I might not have turned south either and have ended up in Agen.

Arriving in Castet-Arrouy I had fully intended spending the night in as the Gite  which although full of locals for some festival it was open. I hung around the village trying to decided if I should stay or go, it was late and I was tiered. So I searched for a phone to call Lectoure, the woman had previously been difficult on the phone, Im not certain I even spoke with the same person as I was under the impression I had a room booked. This time the woman seemed surprised at my arrival but yes it was possible for me to stay and yes I could eat. This was the clincher really as had I stayed here in the Gite it would have been another bowl of pasta. Not that there is anything wrong with pasta sauce made from olive oil, shallots air cured ham and Parmigiana, but as a recurring theme I am tiring of it.

I had a warm welcome and a rather nice room, dinner was in two hours and it was a real treat. We had roast duck thighs, the meat just melted off the bone and was utterly fabulous. To start though we began with a glass of Champagne as I was their first Pilgrim of the year!

The next day I had a bed booked in Eauze and expected an early arrival, but not long into the morning I realised that there was little power in my legs and by the time I arrived in Condom I knew I needed to stop. I eventually got a hold of the woman that was responsible for the Gite all 4ft of her and she had seemingly applied her eye shadow with a roller – a steam roller.

The Gite in Condom was locked up tighter than a Frenchmans wine cellar, the eye shadow woman gave me a key for the various rooms and I headed off shopping. I took it very easy and would have been asleep by nine had there not been a French language class for immigrants in the room next door, I’m certain there is a PC way of saying this but I don’t know what it is.

I also called Eauze and asked them to expect me tomorrow, which was no problem. I spent the next morning in the Gite as there was no point heading off early as I had less than a half days cycle so I had a protracted breakfast till around lunch and arrived in Eauze at 16:00. Eauze was a town who’s name had not stayed in my mind, but I clearly remembered having lunch one afternoon here.

The Gite here is brilliant, its the top floor of Marcel & Paulines home we had dinner together, Marcel is a fine man and when I stayed in Moissac the last time around I had met Pauline. Marcel is working hard on the Gite preparing it for the coming year. At dinner we had various drinks, but the best thing overall was a spirit Paulines father makes with oranges which has a slightly burnt orange tang. They have a new baby so I headed for an early night leaving my smelly clothes to dry by the fire.

The next morning just out of town there was an Armagnac producer. I had promised myself to find out more about Armagnac the next time I was in the region and until now had no desire to make detours in the freezing rain. Eauze is the capital of Armagnac production but sadly the shop in town where I could have a dégustation was closed, so despite the chilly rain I headed into the farm to see what I could see.

There was aparently no one around, the quaint tourist trap was closed and I had all but decided to head, when I was met by a young man, who was very happy to give me the tour. I was more interested in the still and process so we bypassed the shop and went through a nondescript side barn door, where we found his father tending the still.

His father who I think effectively lives with the still gave me a description of the process which was not what I had expected. It seems Armagnac uses a Column still invented by a Scotsman, they didn’t tell me this wikipedia if the entry is to be trusted did. What is difficult for me to sort out is that Armagnac has been around since the 14th century and this type of still only since the 19th. Either the process has changed or the French had this type of still before “Scottish bloke” invented it.

As I left the warm still room and went outside I was delightfully met by snowfall and resignedly got on my bike. The cycle was the usual down one hill immediately up another with only the briefest downhill between. The countryside is pretty enough, but in the snow and cold rain I just wanted to make it to Aire-sur-L`Adore.

My last time here I had stayed at the Gite just out of town, this time I stayed at Hotel PAIX which is a wonderful place. The Gite which was supposed to be open was closed as was everywhere else and I ended up staying three nights at PAIX , the  Hotel and woman who runs it are both great.

2010, just where have the last 21 years gone?

When I was last in Scotland  at a cousins birthday party I found myself in the kitchen with one side of the family who had apparently retreated there in the face of opposing forces, there is therein a joke as they are of Italian descent but in the name of family harmony I’m going to stop there.

A young woman I didn’t recognise utterly surprised me. Unlike my memory of her, time had moved on at its normal pace but my last recollection of her was sitting in a child’s seat wearing pink and playing with my little pony. Rationally I understand it but still getting my brain around it is another thing. Her mum still looks the same, I don’t “think” I’ve changed that much and I’m not usually so  easily perplexed or  baffled but for some reason in my mind she is still three and not 23.

Anyway my befuddlement aside, I arrived in Lozerte, recognising the town from the distance. I had wanted to stay here the last time around, but the Gite had been full and I had carried on to Moissac grumpy at climbing the hill and the Gite being full.  I’ve  booked the 31st and 1st nights at the Abbey  but after arriving here I am much more interested in spending the nights in a warm, friendly  Gite with Wifi!

My cycle today was for the most part straight forward, except where this silly cow did her best to knock me off my bike. Her hasty departure was a wise and fortuitous move saving her from a sore face and me from a stint in a French jail.  Gallantry be dammed I say!

The weather closed in for a while and I though I was in for another tough day but then just as I discovered these guys there was a noticeable change in climate. I’ve no idea what the background to or meaning of a caterpillar chain gang is.

In the afternoon the weather just kept improving, it hadn’t been this warm since an unusual day earlier in Switzerland where it had registered 22degrees. The landscape changed again and I was just considering this when I was surround by fruit farms and vineyards.

Those of you with any interest in Fantasy novels will appreciate this picture.

I did start down the road to the town, but the road was rough and heavier going than the D19 which I decided to return too.

The welcome I received here was extraordinary, the couple who have been running a Gite for a while have just finished this place, which is just fantastic. Warm, friendly, Wifi, warm water, washing machines and great company and other Pilgrims!

Amounts the other pseudo “we are walking for the weekend brigade” Pilgrims was a young French man of note on his way back home to Leon after five months walking. It was good to meet another traveller who I didn’t need to explain anything too and we could just chill together without the exhausting overly energetic babble and enthusiasm of the weekender’s.

I asked if I could stay a few nights as its difficult  finding accommodation over the New Year, Michel discussed it with the boss and they agreed. Not only did I stay but I was invited to dinner on New Years eve.

This is Michel and a rather fabulous bottle of wine, the grapes for which are picked every December 31st at 9pm.

Michel and I got on very well, he speaks a little English which together with my poor French was enough for just about every subject.

As you might imagine the food was rather good, this course was pasta with black truffle and stuffed chicken, the coating includes ginger bread and is just fabulous.

To the Gavan`s and Maxwell`s with whom I often spend my New Year, I hope you all behaved yourselves without me there to keep you out of trouble! I had thought to post some pictures of New Year 2000, “Five go mad on Islay” trip, but as Keith has only just finished counselling have decided against it.

Happy New Year.

Despite the headache from my dessicated sinuses and a poor nights sleep today started well. There was a gentle change to the landscape and I decided to stick with Le Lot and not to visit Figeac. However this was the first time my map let me down and really its a question of detail. I wanted to stay with the river, but could I find the road I wanted? Platform 9-3/4 at King’s Cross is probably easier to find. I ended up most of the way up to Figeac and should really just have continued the last couple of kilometres but the descent gave me a better view and allowed me to head for the most likely looking road, an unassuming cutting that looked more like someone’s driveway. It was to my great satisfaction and relief the road I was searching for as I had long ago grown tiered of Capdenac-Gare, Capdenac-Port, Capdenac-left bank and Capdenac-round-the-corner, Capdenac-further-on-a-bit etc. Soon I was beside the railway on a small access road unluckily the road was out, there had been a landslide and unusually for France they had closed off access quite effectively.

I stood for a while considering my options, I had no desire to fight my may back up the track to the main road but there was a fence and barbed wire on both sides of the landslide. I eventually elected to cross on foot and scout  ahead for further landslides.

This photograph is from the “other side” I should really have taken some shots of my solution for moving seven bags and a bike  across this obstacle but was concentrating too much on the job at hand to be bothered. I will leave you ,dear readers with some homework as to how you would cross such an obstacle with said equipment.

At this point I should probably mention my sister Anne and her husband Alan, who gave me a Leatherman Wave as a gift for standing around at their wedding ineffectively showing people to their seats, thanks.

I finally got on my way again to enjoy another delightful part of France, few cars sleepy collections of houses it is quite special here,this old mill would be near perfect if it were not just so close to the road.

This small intentionally unnamed hamlet is prime film set material full of buildings like the one below and then crossing the river there is the fortified Church and Toirac.

It was pretty late when I arrived in Carjac and I had a few concerns about making the next town, I had slept here the last time on the Camino, the town is nothing special but the area is quite fabulous. As it was late I decided to buy a few essentials for dinner and milk for a cuppa and  with the bike further loaded I headed on. There is just outside of Carjac a fabulous tunnel for barges and ships that  allows the canal to pass through the mountain and effectively blocks the route when the gate is closed so I had to return to the town and join the main road again.

As I had followed le Lot to Figeac the last time, I hadn’t crossed the Causses Du Quercy, which is a national park. Despite having a couple roads running through it the area has an otherworldly feel to it. I would love to return here on foot and head off into the national park and camp for a week or so, had it not been winter I may just have done so this time. The presence of the forest and the wildlife was palpable. These few photographs do not do the area justice, cycling through this landscape  in the gloaming was a wonderful experience.

Sadly its also a BASTARD of a cycle and with the light failing at the end of the day, I switched on my lights and tried not to get too anxious at my lack of progress.The last 14km were tough, I find this area tougher than Switzerland especially Gers. You descend from one climb and immediately and I really do mean immediately begin another climb. As a cyclist training area I think it would be difficult to beat.

Luckily the Limogne-en-quercy Gite is at the beginning of town and is just brilliant. The woman who runs it is very relaxed and there was only one other person staying -  a grumpy old Frenchman who I eventually got on with very well. He was quite a sensitive old sod and I think the grumpy thing is just a cover. My arriving spoiled his scene and he had to hurriedly  to go and hide and lock his laptop in his rooms lest I steal it!

After dinner I decided to open my Christmas cake as Dominique had described it. It was actually a biscuit mix, mostly based  on marzipan and almonds! What an excellent way to end my day.

I had all but decided to spend a second day here as it was fun with the old French guy,  whose name Ive embarrassingly forgotten. “One meets so many people” but in the end I decided to head off around 2pm towards Vaylats where the was a Christian retreat and  perhaps an iNet connection.

A warm greeting from a Spanish bloke  signalled my arrival and I asked if I could use the iNet and was told yes but later, so I prepared a little and as I had heard nothing by dinner decided to ask afterwards.

Dinner was an absolute hoot. I had dinner with a group of older French people, they were here  in Vaylats for rest and recuperation I think. The food wasn’t bad and they all kept insisting that I have more of everything, at the end when the biscuits came, they were all passing me the extras from their part of the table.

We really had some fun, from the youngest guy who was clearly ill and kept asking me what is”xxy in English” to the old dear that still thought she was a catch, so I could not resist flirting with her causing no end of consternation between two other old girls. They all drank water with the exception of my drinking buddy a rather robust 70 year old  woman who had the most wonderful facial expressions,  she could have been on tv. There was an old guy in the corner who was just tiered with life and  constant pmediacation. Ssitting beside me an old dear who was more Spanish than French and seemed to my eye to be dressed in a collection lace doilies.

There were other dining rooms and I suspect the Nuns thought I had drawn the short straw as there were other French Pilgrims who I dint meet at dinner, but I was very happy and most entertained my only regret  is that I didn’t have my camera with me.

The only negative to my stay was the head honcho, a woman I will describe as being of a certain age and institutionalised. When I asked about the iNet after dinner she took me to an office and a computer. I sat, she departed and I read one email, by which time she had returned and was hanging around behind me like a bad smell so I asked if she need to use the machine urgently.

As I stood there she started to read the website of the community and look at the train timetable with an intensity that belied belief. She obviously had little idea of what she was doing and having witnessed this behaviour before I knew that she was way way out of her depth. I didn’t care, I just wanted peace to use the connection for a couple of hours so I suggested I leave her to counting pixels and I would bring my laptop and utilise the printer connection to which she appeared to agree.

Well, when I returned and began to reply to my email this didn’t suit her and an argument whose foundation I didn’t really understand followed. I suspect my ability to hit two successive keys in the intended order within a minute was disturbing her.

After my last iNet connection I wondered what was going on, who the God of connectivity was and how or why I had annoyed them? I decided to depart as I didn’t understand what the issue was, leaving her free to destroy what left of her eyesight and I went for a walk.

I had some difficult words for her that I fortuitous could not translate into French and it is probably best that I don’t start here Ill leave scathing attacks on myopic Christian communities to others.

For some reason the next morning she had elected to serve me breakfast and I suspect she expected me to be all sweetness and light in response to her “tra la la bullshit”. I think my “feck off and shove it up yer arse” countenance shocked her, but hey – I’ve never been good in the morning.

I decided to spend another day in Nasbinals. I didn’t really want to stay but a number of factors contributed to my decision, the one with the greatest weight was the thick blanket of snow that appeared overnight and despite some of the comments in your emails, neither the  shortness of skirt nor height of the waitresses heels played any part.

I had breakfast with Grandma Matriarch who was complaining about the lack of heating, she is a delightful old dear and despite my poor French we managed to communicate quite well, yet as I sat there in my t-shirt and shorts struggling for a breath trying not to imagine dessicated desert scenes from the English patient, I could not find any sympathy for her and just thought “buy some thermal underwear”.

I did however think that she would be an ideal companion for my Uncle John, who has been mentioned previously with respect to temperature. He has a fisherman’s cottage on the East coast of Scotland and I am convinced that he could grow the rarest and most demanding of Orchids in his living room, despite the sea lashing the windows on a regular basis during the winter. People in the UK do tend to overheat their homes in  the winter, but my Uncle John flying determinedly in the face of current opinion  is intent on leaving as large a carbon footprint as possible with I suspect  “Jet waz here” written below.

Anyway after breakfast and Grandma Matriarchs complaints, the Gite temperature was further increased to 1 Aran Jumper, which is so warm I could barley survive and retired to my room with the radiator off and the window open.

Later heading into town, I visited the Tourist Information where I had an informative chat about the area with the preceding TI officer. The current one is as dull as dishwater. There was an exhibition of photograph upstairs of Kazakhstan, which just urges me  impatiently on. After a busy morning visiting the TI, butchers and grocers I visited the bar for a Christmas beer and perused the evening menu.

When I arrived back my Crocks had disappeared and when I asked if anyone had seen them, an Asian girl came towards me  wearing both my Crocks and a red face, I felt quite guilty so I gave her my thick socks and headed for a shower.

Going down to lunch I discovered they had re-arranged most of the tables to an ugly monolith that dominated the room and ruined the atmosphere and as I went in the patriarch came hurrying towards me and pointing to a table in the corner beside the door asked me if it was ok. I suspect I should really apply for a license for the look that I bestowed upon him, as it strips skin as easily as it does wallpaper and Artex.

The room had gone from having an open friendly atmosphere to an exclusive one. Where there had been six groups of tables, space for the adults, kids with various activities and the other residents. Interesting how such a change can affect a room and the people. I was pretty pissed off at them as until then we had all mixed, comfortably but after this the adults were perched around the edges of their  uncomfortable creation, the children stayed away and the rest of us at the Gite felt as though we were invading their space.

Later ignoring the arrangement, I set myself up in the middle and laid out the bread, cheese, sausage and wine I was having for lunch. Amongst the group there was a little girl who was all 1970’s Afro and as bright as a button. She decided that she was having some of the sausage Id just sliced. She made very quick work of it and appeared from nowhere quickly followed by one of  the adults who was admonishing her. I chased the adult off and asked her to first say please before raiding my plate. She did and by the end of my lunch she had eaten more of the sausage than I did and half my pear, but said please on each subsequent raid. She is smart, cute and bold and will go far.

Sorry pictures are thin on the ground, I am disappointed not to have some pictures of the children and the Gite.