The phoney war

No, we haven't declared war on anyone, but setting off today for a very short ride and no major hills felt wrong after all the build-up. In fact the Raid Pyrennean officially starts in Hendaye on the Spanish border, only about 30 miles from Bayonne, so today was just getting us to the start. In fact three of the group have joined here, as it was easier for them to cycle to here than to Bayonne , while for anyone coming by train or plane Bayonne was the obvious starting point. We now have our full complement of 16 riders, 2 leaders and a couple who are jointly taking on the role of driver (normally a one man job). There wasn't any point setting off early so it was after 10.00am before the circus rolled out of town. The thing we found difficult today was not the distance, nor the traffic, not even the humidity - but riding with a group of complete strangers, whose speed and riding style was an unknown quantity. Luckily today was the only day we ride as a group, from now on we go at our own pace and meet up at a couple of points a day to check that nobody has got lost. It was pretty sedate as Lynn, the leader, guided us out of Bayonne at St Jean de Luz for lunch and then on to Hendaye for a swim in the Atlantic before turning left to ride to the Med for the second swim. Not having carried the appropriate gear we settled for paddling, pictures below. There would have been a picture of both of us except that the chap who offered to take it has taken a rather strange shot of shallow water, with nothing else in view! Don't think we'll ask him to take a shot of the two of us on top of the Tourmalet.......

We got to the hotel mid afternoon and looking along the outdoor corridor, where most of the rooms for the cyclists are located, all you can see is bike gear hanging off the wooden railing after being washed out with shower gel. Nobody seems to be taking things too seriously, which is reassuring, although there are some pretty fancy bikes in evidence. I would guess that we are about average age and possibly the only people who have never been on a CTC holiday before. There are three women doing the trip, plus the leader and the wife of the driver who came along to keep him company. One of these women was on the trip last year (she has flown in from Canada) and broke her pelvis in a fall on day 2. Apparently three people came off that day, which wasn't in the high mountains, so we will be taking extra care.

Hope you like the picture below of an advert in the LCL bank (they must sponsor the Tour de France as all the yellow jerseys have LCL on them) - perhaps I'll suggest it to the new Governor of the Bank of England when we get back. I think t he others are self explanatory. We are about 100 yards from the Spanish border here tonight and we were half tempted to ride down and cross over. However the road is dual carriageway and extremely busy so we decided to wait until we hit the border at a quieter point over the next few days.

Culture, chocolate and the CTC

The last day off of the holiday and for once we were somewhere with things to do (and no laundry or bike maintenance to get in the way). We had a good wander round Bayonne, with its narrow cobbled street and fabulous cathedral, the latter being practically impossible to photograph as it is surrounded by tall buildings.  We walked round the ramparts and visited the Botanical Gardens - which were more like a domestic flowerbed, Kew does not need to worry! We hadn't appreciated what a big influence the British had on this part of the world, but there were references to it everywhere. We planned a boat trip for this afternoon, but when we got there we were the only potential passengers and they only ran the trip with a minimum of 15, so we went instead to a place which makes posh chocolates and promised 'generous sampling!'  A small selection of what was available to sample is shown below, there was a lot more. I hadn't appreciated how labour intensive it was - a far cry from our trip round the Bournville factory some years ago. The chocolate itself was sublime, the French go for dark chocolate, which is our favourite, and while I don't really appreciate lumps of dark chocolate in my breakfast cereal (very common over here) I have to say the are masters of the art of coated chocolates if today's samples were anything to go by. Just a shame we couldn't buy any to bring home, but I think it would melt rather quickly in them luggage.

Walking back to the hotel Chris' rather badly worn lightweight sandal finally fell apart and is now rather attractively stuck together with fluorescent yellow sticky tape - just you wait, the fashion world will soon pick up on this new trend. The hotel continues to delight, I have included a photo of The Mechanic getting out of the lift yesterday and the amazing hotel fridge- hands up anyone who has one like this at home. The drawer of the little bedside cabinet keeps opening as the floor is on such a slope.......

Most of the group for the next part of the holiday are arriving today - so far we have only found one other guy who cycled here from his home in Brittany on a steel bike similar to ours, however I was correct on the age profile and we won't feel out of place!  There is frantic activity as the people who flew in today put their bikes back together and check to see if Ryanair have managed to transport them in one piece. For once it is nice not to have to worry about it. So far I have only come across one other female member of the group, although the leader is actually female and (at 49) probably the youngest person here. Tonic wine and Sanatogen should replace the carafes of paint stripper I suppose. 

Final shots below are of the hotel with suicidal cyclist hanging out the window and the same one at the bridge into town.  Tomorrow we head for the hills........

 

Missing photos

Stage 1 completed!

So we have made it to Bayonne safely, 895 miles since leaving home, 2 punctures and some interesting (I use the word advisedly) navigation. The hardest part, since struggling to find the hotel in La Rochelle after 80 miles, was getting into Bayonne - so the Mechanic was suitably impressed when I managed to lead us, not just safely into the centre of town but straight to the hotel. I was pretty impressed myself! We had a final day of quiet bike trails, but noticed the irritating French habit of putting direction signs just out of view of the junction you are approaching - always assuming they put any out at all. We had a several roundabouts / junctions where we had to make a quick decision about which way to go, only to find a sign cunningly placed just far enough from the junction that you can't see it until you have made the turn. On occasions this means you had to try all the possibilities until you found the correct one - which worked well except where there was no sign at all!

As we only had 47 miles to do today we got up a bit later than usual and by the time we had cleaned and tidied the apartment it was 9.00am. The weather was dry but overcast to start so the paths near the beaches were reasonably quiet, although got busier as the morning wore on. I am interested to learn the secret of French family cycling, so any light you can shed on the situations we have been witnessing would be appreciated. French family with 3 small children, one so small that it is on a seat behind Mum, the other two on their own (small) bikes while Dad tours a double child buggy which is empty. I assume the buggy is for when the kids get tired - but what do they do with the bikes in that case. I have visions of Dad strapping one on his back and handing the other to the child in the child seat to carry. Nothing would surprise me over here.........

An interesting phenomenon we have witnessed is the small local business at lunchtime - in these times of economic hardship you would expect them to welcome any customers prepared to spend money, but we have watched as they practically beat people off with a stick to get the door closed at 12.30 so they can have their 2/3 hour lunch. We have been in a fast food place (the Belgian speciality chip shop) where they have closed the door at precisely 8.00pm while we were only half way through our lasagne and then stand and watch us with a belligerent look as we felt obliged to bolt it down.

The hotel we are staying in is incredible, real old fashioned place, with a lift straight from the 1920s. I won't use it as it is so small it makes me claustrophobic. The maximum load is 3 people, 220 kg, but I don't reckon you could place 6 feet in the space available. I have a good photo, but yet again the portrait shots will not download, so you will have to wait.

Photos tonight include the Mechanic doing some housework, me surveying a bike for next year's trip, one of the signs we were trying to follow and the view from the hotel window

Now off to eat with a few of the CTC people who, like us, have arrived a day early

The village of the damned??

Not much going on here today - in more ways than one. It was a lot fresher this morning, although still sunny. We got up late and had a leisurely breakfast and then an extra cup of tea on the patio, before the Mechanic did what the Mechanic is here for and the little woman was dispatched to the supermarket (about 100 yards away). The shop was manic, no doubt because it only opens for 3 hours on Sunday morning, but I was on a mission to get cleaning cloths for the bikes. We normally use  J cloths, but we haven't been able to find the equivalent over here, so I got a pack of weetex cloths and the Mechanic has cut one up to replace the rogue gel pad from his shorts which as been left in a hotel somewhere to alarm future guests. 

Jobs done we read our books for a while, planning to go to a neighbouring village on the bikes this afternoon. Before we set off we noticed the black clouds rolling up so we decided to take a walk round the village we are staying in - Linxe or, as it should probably be called, the Village of the Damned. Not a person was to seen, the odd dog barked and most of the houses were shuttered and dead looking (grass not cut etc). A few cars drove quickly through looking neither left nor right, the inns were closed, the church had no service and everything that might have been open was closed. The one hotel was shut.........  We felt ourselves being watched from behind the shutters, roads that on the map were connected to each other just ended in a track leading into the endless forest. Then it started to rain! We are now back in the accommodation, doors firmly barred and bolted (well maybe not quite barred and bolted, but this place is very strange).

I forgot to say, a few days ago, that we reckon the card game 'Happy Families' is being updated for modern times - you know the sort of thing, Mr I Pad, Mrs I Pad and their children the mini- ipads. Well we came across the prototype for the fat family, while having lunch by the beach somewhere. There was Mr (very)Fat, his wife Mrs (horribly) Fat, Master (flabby and) Fat, Miss ( catching up with all of them) Fat and as an added bonus the joker cards 'Baby Fat' 'Granny Fat' 'Grampa Fat' and to complete the set 'Puppy Fat'. We were speculating on what would happen to global sea levels if they all decided to bathe at once.........

Anyway I said I would tell you about the family who run this place. They moved out from England 9 years ago with three kids aged 14, 12 and 4. The only one of the 5 of them to speak any French was the wife and that was only 'A' level French which she had done 20 years earlier. They did up the property themselves, the kids went straight into school with not a word of the language and the non French speaking husband set up his own business as a plumber.  I was really surprised, but there is a lot of new housing round here, so perhaps plumbers were in short supply - either that or they were on the run and I didn't really feel I could ask them if hat was the case.

Have to tell you that the Mechanic has developed a bit of a twitch - we have just gone 24 hours with no French bread passing our lips and he is having withdrawal symptoms, although before you start to worry too much, normal dietary standards will be resumed tomorrow. None of my portrait photos have condescended to download tonight so I have put in a few from previous days. One of the lad at work his morning, sunrise from the ferry we took from Royan, the church in this village which appears to have had one end chopped off and a couple of random shots of the route.

Closing in on Bayonne

850 miles done and around 50 miles to get to Bayonne, but for now we are settled into an absolutely beautiful self catering apartment in the otherwise undistinguished village of Linxe. We struggled to get out of bed this morning, lack of sleep appears to be catching up with us, despite the fact that we have been getting at least 8 hours every night. We are looking forward to a good lie-in tomorrow as we have  a non cycling day ( although quite what we are going to do if we don't get in the saddle is a bit of a mystery.  We met a couple of Finnish cyclists over breakfast, which kept us a bit longer than expected as they are interested in cycling Lands End to John o' Groats. Finally got out and back on to the wonderful bike paths which have been such a feature of this area - apparently millions of euros have been spent on them as they bring in a shed load of tourists - and we can see the results. You simply wouldn't believe the number of kids on bikes, on tow alongs, in child seats and in towed buggies. Whole families go cycle touring with several kids - the oldest ones (over about 10 years old) carrying their own luggage.

Anyway there weren't so many tourists around this morning as the sky was overcast and there were a few sprinkles of rain. We made good time to Mimizan Plage, where we stopped to buy bread and cakes for our refuelling stops. We were approached by an earnest looking you g Frenchman who asked if we spoke French- I replied that we didn't, but perhaps I shouldn't have said it in French! He handed us a leaflet and spoke very fast and at length about some cause. We decided they ( we had spotted a group of placard carrying protestors) were campaigning against child trafficking, although quite why hey thought we needed to be converted is a bit of a puzzle - we thought they suspected us of having a couple of small children in our panniers. More careful reading of the leaflet this evening reveals that the protest was something o do with bulls ( we are near Pamplona here), but all the sad foreign children pictured on the leaflet are something of a mystery.

Escaping from here we continued down the coast on an almost deserted cycle path until we stopped for lunch by a lake just 5 miles or so from our destination. At this point I need to tell you about the visions of hell we have been experiencing all the way down the coast - otherwise known as the French 

coastal campsite. It is like seeing Colditz or Stalag Luft 10 and escape might well be as tricky.  Those of you of a 'certain age' might remember the song about the boxes on the hillside all made out of ticky tacky - well those boxes are alive and well down here. Row after row of identical cabins, built looking straight into the back of each other and just far enough apart to park a ( small) car, no trees, no landscaping just rows of these boxes marching into the middle distance. If you are unlucky you get the same effect under canvas with what appear to be Boy Scout camp tents.

Even worse, if such a thing is possible, are the motor home sites, where these juggernaut vehicles are parked about 2 feet apart on a gravel parking lot with no facilities. You barely have room to open the door without knocking he van beside you. We used to think that all the stories about France closing down for August while everyone went on holiday were exaggerated, but I'm beginning to think they are true. Our room last night was 100% more expensive in July/August than the rest of the year, and let me tell you that the price for the rest of the year was still too much for what you got.

I'll tell you about this place tomorrow, run by ex- pat Brits, they have already put all our washing through their machine at no charge and are incredibly friendly and helpful. As we approached, looking around to try and spot where we were meant to be I heard someone call 'Shirley Hume?' The owner had been told 2 cyclists were riding through the village and was at he gate looking out for us - their story follows tomorrow, time to eat ( or in fact cook!).

Pictures include the route, refuelling stop and the interior of the place we are staying

Naked cycling and other matters

Another day of 90% plus off road on surfaced cycle ways. We picked up the route easily having found out where it started last night, so the first excitement was when we passed a naked cyclist pedaling slowly along in front of us on a bike laden down with shopping bags etc. all I am prepared to say is that he made a good advertisement for the nearest clothing store. When asked, the Mechanic did not seem too keen to emulate.......  Our next encounter of interest was with a French cyclist who told us about a ferry across the Bassin de Arachon, which took bikes. It only shaved about 5 miles off the day - but it meant we could stay on the off-road cycle paths, rather than face a ride along the crowded sea fronts of several coastal towns.  We cycled on to Cap Ferret where, inevitably, we had just missed the hourly ferry. We bought our tickets and hung around, expecting a reasonably substantial boat. Imagine the horror when we saw the ferry from the other side approach with bikes on the top of what was just a jumped up lifeboat. Rather worried about the safety of our precious machines, we were relieved to discover that we could put them with the passengers - we even got seats beside them! (Picture below)

Over the other side we found another off-road cycle path, which took us practically to the hotel. The whole day was hillier than expected, presumably because we were travelling through the sand dune national parks, complete with lots of trees which gave us plenty of shade - although the day got progressively cloudier as it went on. On the last 10 mile section we had to negotiate a few 10% sections of track and as I headed up I spotted a young man ahead on a top of the range mountain bike. Near the top of the hill he was definitely struggling and I sailed past him on the fully laden touring bike while (for the cyclists among you) still in the middle ring of my triple. He was not amused and raced past me on the downhill, only for me to overtake again on the next uphill

We are in an interesting hotel tonight, I use the word advisedly! We have the smallest shower in the history of the universe, with a jet so powerful that it blows the shower doors open (they don't quite fit properly). By attempting to make sure the shower wasn't stone cold when I got in I managed to flood the bathroom, and then once established in the shower, you only had to turn round and you knocked the water off.  Happy days!  Anyway we are trying to move carefully around each other as there isn't much space. Good meal tonight in 'Le Pub' narrowly missing the night of 'Irish' fiddle music. There is some strange happening going on in the square opposite (beside the 'Boulodrome - Chris Hoy eat your heart out!) with lots of ethnic music and cheap tat on sale. We thought it was about to rain so we only had a quick look, but that was more than enough. 

Photos today include our ride through the forest, an idyllic lunch spot, our ferry trip and a giant sand dune