Big Bird's Adventures

As of my last write up I had just tested positive for Covid, my mates, as agreed to, have continued on their way, and I am convalescing in a 2 star family hotel in Argeles France for 71 Euros a night which includes breakfast and dinner. I don’t know why we don’t have these kinds of places in the US, but this was quite a deal. I was staying in my room, I didn’t allow house cleaning in, and if I left my room, I was masked, though I didn’t communicate to my hosts, my condition. I was the only one wearing a mask, so maybe they figured it out. They always put in a corner for dinner far from any other guests, and no one else dealt with me.

I spent most of the next day sleeping and resting, though I might have gotten outside for a short walk around the immediate area. If we look back, I think it is clear that on day 2 I was feeling the effects, and probably would have tested positive had I taken a test, so I think it is fair to say that after a full day in Argeles, I was at least 3 days into the infection, and I had already gone through the feverish symptoms, so we had moved on to the next stage which was probably recovery. Sometime on Friday I thought I felt well enough to take the bike for a spin, so I got suited up and took it out of the garage and headed towards Luz Ardiden, an iconic climb. If I am honest here, while I was on the road getting deeper into the valley I didn’t feel 100% but I didn’t feel like shit either, so I kept going. The valley narrowed through a gorge with an Avalanche tunnel, or maybe it was just a falling rock tunnel, and emerged in the next segment where the start to the climb was located. I was ignorant of where the actual start was, so I only just put my destination pin at the top, and let it route, so I actually started on some side connecting road, that was probably a little steeper in sections than the actual climb. Needless to say that by the time I got to the first village up the climb I could feel in my lungs that I was doing something stupid, and instead of continuing like an idiot, I turned down the main drag and headed back to the hotel. I detoured onto a road less traveled and stayed off most of the road I had ridden in on and soon was back in my room, showered, and convinced that I was probably there until Sunday, earliest.

Saturday, I spent most of the day walking around town, avoiding people of course, but for the most part I felt like I was well into recovery, and upon returning to the hotel I informed my hosts that I would indeed checkout the next day. I still had another test, but I wanted to wait a couple of days to make sure the virus was gone before I tested. I didn’t want any lingering pink line that would mean getting another test.

My last supper there was as good as the first supper I had. If I had gone out for dinner I probably would have spent 30-40 Euros on a meal, and this was included in my room rate. Also recall that at this time the Dollar and the Euro were about 1 to 1, so it was an even better value than it would be today say. Now, also remember that technically I was out of season, so that is not the season rate. There are two seasons: Winter with Skiing, and Summer with Hiking. I am sure they are just happy to fill the room in the off season.

I awoke on Sunday with a route plotted to Bordeaux on both my RideWithGps App, and Google Maps in Bicycle mode. The total distance was maybe 235 kilometers and I would see how far I could get and would get a room anywhere I could find when I decided it was time. The general plan at that point was to ride to Bordeaux, and hang there for a couple or few days and ride around the wine country there before heading back to Paris. Checked out, bike packed, I waved goodbye and I was off on my bike again and feeling just fine. Back along the bike path to Lourdes, through the streets of Lourdes and past the early pilgrims lined up for their ritual, and then NNW on tiny roads into the countryside.

Remember, it is October, so there are not any bright Sun Flower fields as far as the eye can see. If there are any Sun Flower fields at all, the flowers are long dead, and drying. Why they weren’t harvested, I couldn’t tell you. Our farmers leave corn up as well, so maybe that is part of the process for some of these crops. In any case, my roads were small and wound through farming communities with little to no traffic, and occasionally a Sunday cycling group passed with a wave.

I was moving along, and the kilometers were ticking by 20, 30, 40. By lunchtime I was looking for a place to eat, but none of the small villages I have been passing through were the kind of villages that had anything resembling a food establishment, so I kept riding. I managed to find some small shops here and there where I could pick up a snack or two, but a real meal eluded me. Around 105 Kilometers in the town of Aire-sur-l’Adour I came through around 2 in the afternoon, and saw a nice place along the river with people sitting and enjoying themselves, so I stopped and propped my bike and took a seat and sat and sat until finally I got someone’s attention. What I didn’t realize was all those people I saw were just drinking. There was no food on their tables, and the lunch kitchen was closed, and dinner wouldn’t be ready for a couple of hours. I managed to get a baguette and hopped back on the bike and rode off NNW. I was on a bigger road, but at least it had a decent shoulder, and the passing vehicles would give me a little boost of speed. I nibbled on the baguette for the next few hours until I rolled into Roquefort and decided that 145 kilometers was enough of a first ride after Covid, and I found a 1 star hotel to spend the night. I might have been able to find a better place, but my phone power was low, and by the looks of the town, this was not a tourist destination, so I believe my choices would have been limited.

I quickly showered, and walked over to an open place that looked like it would serve up some dinner and sat down at the bar. The place wasn’t busy at all, in fact there may only have been a small family seated, and another 1 or 2 people at the bar with a couple people outside. The place was dated, but it seemed exactly the place I needed at that moment, and after a couple of beers, I sat at a table and wolfed down a healthy amount of food, after which I strolled around town before turning in for the night.

In the morning, I don’t recall any dining area, so I am pretty sure I just packed up a left, though I did have a scare when I was ready to go retrieve my bike from the garage where I had locked it, I could not find the key for the lock anywhere. I know you know what I am talking about when I said, I went through everything I had 2 or 3 times looking for that key, until finally I hoped against all the bad luck that it was lost for good, and went to the bike and looked around the bike, and then re-traced my steps to the hotel from the garage, and there in a crag between two cobbles of the alley was a black plastic handled key that looked very familiar. Note to self. Bring two keys, or use a combo lock device.

Once I was on the road, I would have stopped anywhere I could have purchased some baked goods and that would have been all I needed to get to Bordeaux as it was only about another 70 kilometers and I did have a giant meal the night prior. There was however a slight predicament. While there was a main busy road leading in that direction, to the West of that was a giant National Forest with few road options, and on the East was a more rolling countryside and more kilometers, and the weather forecast for the day called for rain starting early afternoon. What I should have done was ride North to Langon and then to follow the river roads into Bordeaux, but instead I leaned more towards the shortest distance algorithm and because google maps was in bicycle mode and treated any passage for any bike as possible passage, at some point I found myself in the National Forest on a road that became very sandy and unridable in spots, and I had to dismount and walk. My service was pretty shitty as well, so my only option was to hang an East out to what turned out to be a fairly truck heavy road, that I had to be on. At one point, when I heard one coming up behind me, I just pulled off the road. There was no shoulder, and while they did pass with as much room as they could squeeze, they weren’t really slowing down, so I just wanted to get off that road alive. I was on that road to Landiras, where I jumped on a better road to Saint Michell de Rieufret where I left the National Forest and entered the vineyards South of the river La Garrone. From there is was rolling hills through vineyard after vineyard, eyeing the unique tractor devices that these places employed to manage their vines as the rain began to fall and as kilometer after kilometer accumulated, I moved from rural to semi-rural to semi urban to the full urban streets of Bordeaux. I had booked a place already for a couple of nights, not the good deal I had in Argeles, but a place real close to Gare Saint Jean, the train station there in Bordeaux.

By the time I arrived it wasn’t pouring, but it was a steady rain, I was wet, and it was cool, so I was anxious to get inside and into some dry clothes, also probably hoping that my cycling bag was indeed waterproof. It was. I found the place. It was not a hotel, but more of a rooming house with suites. So I had a sitting area, and a bedroom, and a small kitchen to use if I so chose. Breakfast was included, but it wasn’t a come downstairs and sit in our dining area kind of place. Instead I needed to select my breakfast options the night before, and that would be brought to my room at whatever time I indicated I wanted it delivered. In addition the room came with a complementary bottle of wine, which I did enjoy and supplement with an additional bottle.

Clean and dry, I took the opportunity during any rainy let up to move along the street and check out my surroundings. I made sure I knew how to get to the train station, and once inside where my platform would be, and then walked around the station just to check it out. I didn’t see anything in the station as far as a food place, so I moved outside, where lining the opposite side of the boulevard where a number of cafes with covered outdoor seating. I perused their menus, but none of them really grabbed my attention, and so I then moved find something away from the station proper and that was when I wandered past La Furtado, only a couple blocks walk from my apartment. A local place, pub-like and quaint, and the menu looked like it had options for me.

It is fair to say that when I arrived in Bordeaux the plan was to stay a few days, and then head back to Paris, however there was a 3 body problem to work out. First body was actually a couple known to me since the late 60’s when Yann De Tonquedec and his wife Beatrice were in the US where he started his MBA at NYU and my parents hosted them for a couple of months. As Yann told me later, my Dad’s first words to him were that he thought they would be German, since my parents had spent time in Germany and that is where I was born, and while they became friends it was actually my Mother who was much better at maintaining the long friendship across the Atlantic. I wanted to try and see if I could at least see them for a day or two if possible and they live just West of Paris. Second body was Michelle Genuard who is French and splits her time between France and Long Island. I know Michele because a very good friend, John Genuard met and married her and had a family. He passed away in 2020 because of lung cancer (not a smoker) and now Michele and I keep in touch. She lives just outside of Lille to the North of Paris. The obvious third body is Tom and Augie who I will need to meet back in Paris when this is all over. So without talking to anyone I had made arrangements to return to Paris Thursday morning, and I would see how to coordinate my 3 body problem in just 2 days. Actually Tom and Augie were easy as long as I was back in Paris by Friday evening, so the real challenge was Yann and Beatriz in Plaisir France, and Michelle in Lille, so while I was texting with Yann and Michele, Yann informed me that if I could get back to Paris by Wed afternoon, I could join him on a business trip to Caen which is another 3 hours West of Paris, and in the region of Normandy where all those invasion beaches are. I was welcome to join him, and while he was working, I could go investigate the beaches, and we would drive back late Thursday and I could spend the night in Plaisir with he and Beatrice, and finally he would drop me at my hotel Friday morning. I checked with Mechelle and I could jump on a TGV and meet her in Lille for a late lunch on Friday, and be back in Paris to meet Tom and Augie for a late dinner. The 3 body problem seemed to have a solution!

So, I changed my train reservation for an early train, let both Yann and Michelle know my plans, and dropped a text update to Tom and Augie. This all went down late Monday, and I would spend Tuesday riding around Bordeaux if the weather cooperated. If the weather did not cooperate, then I would walk around and chill. I had my Kindle, so I could entertain myself, and as long as it didn’t pour I had my feet and could walk.

The next morning, I had a knock on my door at the time I asked for breakfast, and a tray of my choices was delivered. I took my time savoring each bite and enjoying my coffee. As I understood and verified, an empty cup can be refilled in the lobby area, and so I took in a couple of refills. It was Tuesday morning, and it was almost a week since my positive Covid test, so I thought I should give the second test a go, and pulled it out and went through the ritual. Negative. Nothing pinkish, just a clear reading with the control line

I probably should have made more of an effort to see more of Bordeaux, but the weather was not cooperating enough to even make walking all that enjoyable and I wasn’t keen on riding all day in the rain, so it is sad to report that I didn’t really leave the bubble of the area I was in, and pretty much just punted. By the time dinner rolled around, the weather had cleared, and I went back to La Furtado, this time taking an outdoor table where I enjoyed the evening and observed what segment of the Bordeaux population crossed my path in a non-creepy way.

In the morning my breakfast routine went down as a repeat performance, and I packed my bags, loaded up my bike and made my way for the station. I think I was set for a 9:30 departure, which would put me in Paris with plenty of time to get to Plaisir. Now the next part is a little fuzzy in my recollection. The fuzziness is when did I find out that I had made a boo boo? Did I find the car for the bikes and see 3 bikes already tied up and then upon asking someone official, who didn’t speak very good English, what was up, or was it more along the lines of I asked someone official where the bike car was, because I had my bike, and when my ticket was examined was told that no, I don’t have a ticket for my bike, and therefore cannot board. I feel drawn to the latter story, as that raises a lot of confusion. I would expect that asking for help and then receiving that kind of news is the worst news, but that is what happened. I was not permitted to board, and I was convinced to take my situation to the office in the station, because it wasn’t going to get resolved out on the platform.

So, here was the deal. I had purchased a ticket for myself to travel on Thursday, and added the ticket for my bike, and when I changed plans, the ticket for my bike did not transfer with the ticket for my body, so though I had tickets to Paris for myself and my bike, they weren’t on the same train or the same day. Well, maybe it was the same train. It took awhile to sort that out in the SNCF ticket office, but the kind folks there were able to help me get it all sorted out, and I and my bike were set for the next train at 10:30. I would lose an hour, but if I rushed, I could still be in Plaisir with enough time to intersect with Yann and drive to Caen. I texted him the flub information, and he said no problem. I had the whole ride to Paris to plan my route, which amounted to nothing more than picking Yann’s address, put it bike mode and ask for directions. Maybe I was using Komoot, because of the turn by turn announcements.

I boarded, got my bike secure, again with luggage on the bike platform, found my seat, and enjoyed a pleasant high speed rail journey back to Gare Mont Parnasse exceeding 300 kph more than a few times and watching us fly past all the traffic on the main highways. What a way to travel!

Before arriving in Paris, I changed into some riding gear in the loo, and then upon arrival in Paris, I changed from my sandals back to my bike shoes, and threw my leg over the top tube, pressed “Start” on the turn-by-turn, and off I was. As it just so happens, it wasn’t all that long before parts of Paris started to look familiar. My route to Plaisir went right past the Marriot I had stayed in two weeks prior. Ha!.

There were a few glitches along the way. Paris is a city, that like any city, it was late to the bicycle lane adaptation party. I was doing fine for awhile, but then I hit a detour, and after a re-route ended up in some park on a hill where I was sure there was a better way, but I didn’t have the luxury of time on my side, so I pushed forward. I think I was actually riding on dirt in a park for a short distance before I assured myself I was still moving toward Plaisir. At one point I was riding straight towards a giant tourist trap. It was called Versailles, and I don’t know why my route went through Versailles, but I audibled and rode around it, again re-routing. On the other side, I was in another park, but I wasn’t really all that far, maybe another 10k so I kept going where the route line and the turn-by-turn was taking me. I wasn’t doing too bad on time, and after some nifty bike paths got me over a major controlled access road, I was in Plaisir, and just like that I found Yann’s driveway, dismounted and walked in. He was loading his car when I approached and we hugged after 50 years. I was 12 the last time we had met, and now I was 62. There was enough time for me to shower, and put on my non-cycling clothes, and I took the wheels off my bike, and we packed it into his car, and then off the Caen we went.

Tagged: Bicycle Touring, Bordeaux, Cycling, cycling france, Cycling Suffering, france, Pyrenees 2022, Travel