/ richard cross

It was a day of ups, downs and gorges! The first up was as soon as we started, up and out of Aynat and onto the volcanic plateau that extends like a skirt around Puy de Dome. Like every other day I’d forgotten to warm up properly so after 10 minutes my hamstrings were tightening up and I had to stop in the shade of a driveway to do some stretches. I just hoped the folk who lived there hadn’t chosen that moment to look outside! The good news is that these simple exercises help a lot and soon we were on our way again

The road to traversed the plateau at around 1000m. With the higher peaks and passes of Mont Dore to our right we were almost tempted to make for the tops, but needing supplies we headed for Murol. Our decision was rewarded with a spectacular sweeping descent with views to distant volcanic peaks with the remarkable Chateau de Murol in the foreground. Plus to my delight we had stumbled on the ‘Route des Fromages d’Auverge’ and were able to buy some excellent local cheese in Murol, the location of our now mandatory second breakfast.

Leaving Murol was a long hot slog, but like all the rest it relented in the end, then it was time for lunch. Can you see the pattern? Climb, eat, repeat! We sheltered under the trees by Lac Pauvin south of the ski resort Super Besse as it looked like the clouds which had been developing all morning would deliver the forecast storms. But no, they held off and by the time we set off again it was already clearing.

The descent from our high point (about 1350m) was fabulous, about an hour of down hill – not so steep that brakes were needed, rather and steady and flowing where all you needed to do was sit up and your wind resistance would slow you down. This quickly added to the day’s distance travelled which up till then had been restricted due to all the climbs.

The road continued down through lush tree lined (gorgeous) gorges, the air getting noticeably warmer and more humid as we lost height till we reached a town called Condat. The temptation is often to press on, put more miles in, but this risks missing the hidden gems or in this case the hidden fossils. The dayglow sign for the ‘Musee Servaire’ suggested it wasn’t your usual stuffy museum, indeed in this was the finest collection of fossils I’ve ever seen and M. Sevaire was eager to show us around his life’s work. Form the 230kg meteorite from Argentina (about the same size as one of our panniers) through to the amazing uncurled amenonites (they don’t know why) this was a richly varied exhibition and the owner was on hand to tell stories about all the exhibits. I was amazed to find such a treasure tucked away like this and can only hope the season (they opened yesterday) goes well for them. See: http://www.museeservaire.fr/

From there it was another long hot climb out of the gorge, this time accompanied by swarms of flies, which was nice! This last climb lead us to Riom es Montagnes whose municipal (ie. cheap) campsite and promise of pizza lured us in to call it a day. Although off the ‘target’ distance 80kms over the terrain we had covered was a significant effort, making the subsequent pizza and all the trimmings taste even better.

Early night as a big day planned for tomorrow, an attempt to make it to Janie’s place to the SE of Figeac. Our legs, the weather and the roads all need to come good if we are to make it in one push.

Woke for the sunrise again, it was so stunning I woke up Helen to see it too. Thankfully she agreed!

We were on our way by 8.30 in an attempt to avoid the midday heat and feeling rested and refreshed we made good progress. At about 10am we passed the 500kms mark in a little place called Denone. No fanfare, no cheering crowds, but it felt a significant achievement having started out a week ago with no idea how far we’d make.

Form there we rode through a succession of small farming villages, all the time the volcanoes of the Auverge were getting closer and looking larger. Along the way we saw an buzzard drop it’s catch of a pigeon right in front of us, slightly surprised we rode around the corner where 2 young girls asked me for a ‘pomp’, – wary of entrapment I checked Helen was witnessing all was above board before helping them blow up their flat tyres. With a ‘bon journee’ floating in the air we rode on with me feeling like international ‘bicycle repair man’.

Entering the outskirts of Clermont Ferrand reminded us there were busy towns in France, not just sleepy villages. We found the tourist office where we needed camping and bike route info and I amazed myself with by conducting the entire exchange in French, though I’m not sure the woman who helped me was so impressed with what I was doing to her language.

To the nearest park for lunch where we assumed the parkie meant ‘get those bikes off the grass’ because he stopped gesticulating when we did! I spent the time planning our route up to the Puy de Dome, the huge volcano which at 1465m dominates the area. We were not aiming for the top as it’s a dead end and had been declared ‘out of bounds’ by mutual consent. However feeling good after a rest day we decided to pick a direct route up to the high ground as a way of seeing what we could cope with.

Heading out of town passed thermal spas and towards the mountain it seemed that people were giving us odd looks, as if they knew something we didn’t. Trying to ignore this we pedalled on and as we did it got hotter. On the road Helen’s bike computer peaked at 40.2deg c and with sweat pouring off us we plugged away, stopping to drink (and drip) in any patch of shade there was.

Slowly we found ourselves clearing the roof lines of the tower blocks, round the first sets of hairpins, then the second and beyond. When the trees began to thin out we knew we had made it as far as we needed to go, not to the top, that lay another 500m above (and looked truly punishing). Instead we turned off along a rolling high road which tracked the 950m contour, where houses clung to the slopes hogging the best views while the road dodged between volcano cones with occasional glimpses of the Puy du Dome behind us. We had made it into the mountains and it hadn’t broken us! It was great to be up high, it’s cooler, the scenery fascinating and the campsite by the lake at Aydat is excellent (cold beer and showers).

Time to revisit the maps and see where we can go from here. Up is still a possibility, but will see what the legs give us in the morning.

Having decided today would be a rest day I was wide awake at 6am! How annoying was that? Not really, as the sunrise was stunning. Snoozed for a couple of hours before getting up for a lazy breakfast and just enjoying not having to pack up and roll on.

We took the opportunity to do some washing (phew!) before wandering into town to look around and have a long dreamt about lunch.

Gannat seems like a fairly typical French town, the centre ville built around a church and square, civic pride shown by it’s floral displays and thankfully not a Tesco’s in sight. True, the outskirts are often a mess of light industrial developments but they have had the sense (or lack of ‘ambition’) not to rip the heart out of their town centres. This has made almost all a delight to visit, each has an identity of which they are justly proud. I’m sure there’s a flip side to this point of view, but for someone passing through the difference between French and British towns is significant.

Lunch was everything we hoped it would be. Amongst the locals we munched our way through a simple salad, steak au frites, fromage plateau followed by tarte au pomme and cafe express. Fabulous and it felt well earned. We slept it off in the park next door before Helen asked ‘ou est la piscine?’ (fans of Flight of the Conchords will understand).

We headed back up the hill to the campsite and spent the rest of the afternoon by the pool, reading up on the Tour de France programme and pouring over our route for the next stage of the journey. After much deliberation we’ve decided on the ‘aesthetic line’ which will take us south east through the volcanoes of the Auverge towards our friends in the Lot and beyond Toulouse. We will find out over the next few days if this is the right decision.

Packed up and off by 9am but instead of hitting the road (and avoiding the heat) we did the tourist thing and had a look around Bourbon. The castle looks like a castle should; turrets, moat, imposing position all present and correct. It dates back to the 12th century but is now used as a backdrop to ’son et luminaire’ shows. It wasn’t open (of course, it’s monday in France) but it was funny to see some of the cast hanging around in costume, it gave the place a ‘Pythonesque’ feel.

From there it was back up the hill and the road. It was hot and felt hard, neither of us could find a rhythm and each km seemed hard won. Our target for lunch was Montet, with a name like that we should have realised it was going to be on top of the biggest hill in the area! It was difficult to keep the negative thoughts at bay, “it’s too far”, “it’s too hard”, “my bike’s making odd noises” and more crossed our minds and when we arrived at Montet we slumped in the shade of the church and ate our lunch in near silence. When the shade disappeared we were forced to move on, but round the corner we found a shady patch of grass in the middle of a roundabout and settled in for a snooze.

It’s amazing what 30 mins of rest can do! Once we got going again we ate up the kilometers, partially down to more flowing roads but also thanks to a different ‘head space’. We had decided to go as far as we felt we wanted to, no targets, no pressure. This I think freed us up, as fairly quickly we had more than doubled our morning’s distance. Buoyed by this we pressed on and made it on to our third Michelin map (thanks for these Kev, much appreciated), itself another significant marker in the journey and a good boost for morale.

It’s also worth saying what a boost the money that’s been donated for WaterAid has been. Knowing you lovely people have dug deep has helped spur us on when the going gets tough – with a long way still to go this it’s really helping, so thank you all.

We stopped in Monesteir for the last of our day’s bread and cheese where I picked up an email from Greener Leith saying they had featured our efforts on their excellent site, this spurred us on for another 20kms which took us up some steep hills but lead us to the lovely Charroux. This is another of France’s most ‘beautiful villages’, and without the other tourists or over priced ice cream we agreed. The highlight for me was the clock museum, with over 6 centuries of time pieces represented. Along with the historical significance and the craftsmanship was the most incredible noise; whirring, clanking, chiming, sounds of the passing of precious time. No photo could do the place justice, so I tried a cheeky video instead. No sound on playback so will have to check when we get home.

From there we had an amazing sweep down a long hill with the volcanoes of the Auverge as the backdrop. But every down brings an up and sure enough the last pull of the day into Gannat was hard.

It being late on monday most shops were closed but we managed to stock up at a ‘mini-marche’ before heading to the campsite. We had talked about staying in a ‘proper bed’ but camping is better, where else can eat then lay down without having to move at all (the same works in reverse in the morning). We found a good spot after some tired ‘discussion’ and then lashed into a veritable banquet. Repleat we watched the sunset, with our first day off cycling tomorrow the wine tasted even better than usual.

Total distance: 491kms

The Saint Satur campsite is a tranquil place, the pitches nestled amongst the trees. I woke early and wandered to the river’s edge and it was a joy to watch the mist lift over La Loire as the sun rose.

At 8am the baker’s van arrived. Such a treat it was that it didn’t really matter they were yesterday’s croissants. We were on our way by 8.30, by far our earliest start – the idea being we would finish early and so get proper rest. Of course few plans withstand contact with the enemy, and this was no exception.

Our route from Sancerre took us through some tiny villages and I was delighted to find one called ‘La Croix’. Sadly it seemed far removed from the fine wine producing villages (Pouilly is just up the road) as there was a distinct smell of vinegar in the air!

Once again it proved impossible to cycle by a well situated cafe, this time in La Charite sur Loire. A fine looking place with a 16th century centre, but lived and worked in rather than pickled for tourists. Anywhere else it would be mobbed by coaches, perhaps it usually is and we just caught it right. Either way we were both taken by the place, if slightly disturbed that we didn’t notice a shop keeper moving our bikes so he could open his shutters.

South, south, ever south. At Cuffy and it’s amazing canal ‘water tank’ used to maintain the levels (yet another feat of French civil engineering). Here we said ‘au revoir La Loire’ and ‘bonjour La Allier’, another river to lead us south.

We were buzzed by a classic car rally, much honking of horns and cheering and it was in high spirits we rolled into Apremont, said to be one of the prettiest villages in France. Here were the tourists in their droves, milling and gawping at the houses so perfect Disney would have rejected them for being unbelievable. We tried to get in the spirit but an overpriced scoop of ice cream didn’t endear us to the place, so we headed on.

Some undulating miles led us to change our destination for the day, shaving 15kms off the total, but adding what can be classed as our first ‘big hill’. One word – hot! But by 7.30 we’d arrived in Bourbon l’Archambault and despite the campsite being up the hill on the other side of town felt we had made the right decision as we’ll avoid more main roads tomorrow.

A shower, a giant plate of pasta (but a sad lack of wine) then some bike maintenance and that was it for the day. With 120kms today and the total now over 400 we feel pleased with our progress, however we are starting to sense the mountains of the Massive Central rise ahead of us so any satisfaction is tinged with trepidation. But that’s all to come…

I was insistent today would start with ‘cafe express’ in the town square, and so it did. The ‘centre ville’ of Briare providing the backdrop. An efficient shop and visit to the ‘office tourisme’ saw us on our way, but not without stopping at the impressive Pond du Port (the aqueduct carrying the Canal de Briare over the Loire) to munch the pain au chocolats we had just bought. Food was becoming a major theme of this trip!

From there we had 20 delightful kilometers cycling along the banks of the canal, along tree lined boulevards listening to the rich bird song that seems to accompany us everywhere we have so far been.

The last few kms of the cycle route were quite sketchy, rough dusty tracks in the baking midday sun. We were glad when we reached metalled road again.

All this time we had the two towers of the nuclear power station of Neuvy sur Loire in our sights, but I was surprised when the cycle route took us right up to it. The scale was breath taking, like one of the great cathedrals of Europe, which I guess it is. We found some shade in a picnique area nearby and ate our lunch, but with an ear out for sirens or other worrying noises.

We pedalled on in increasing heat, Helen’s thermometer read 38 deg on the road and we had to stop frequently to drink and gasp. Having decided earlier to call it a half day we rolled into Saint Satur at about 4pm, set up the tent, then rode up the hill to Sanscerre – hot work!

Sancerre is a beautiful medieval village perched on a hill surrounded by vinyards and full of great wine houses. We pedalled around and cooled off with a ‘demi pression’ in the square having learnt the lesson of Fontainebleau not to have pints. After fixing the worrying noise coming from Helen’s back wheel (slightly mis-aligned top gear guard – phew!) we headed back down the hill to the ’supermarche’ to stock up for sunday closing. We are probably being paranoid but would rather carry the extra weight than not be able to find anywhere open! Not quite decided the route for tomorrow, a job for the morning.

The day started brightly with sunrise across the lake and breakfast on a concrete table tennis table. We were packed up and on our way by 9, but by 9.30 I was faffing with my brakes again.

The highlight of the morning was passing through Lagerville, sadly the hadn’t realised the visitor appeal of such a place and there wasn’t a bar to be found.

We stopped in Ferriers en Gatiniers to stock up on provisions and as luckily caught the end of the market. Pate de Lapain and local cheese were the order of the day, consumed under a tree by the abby sheltering from the thunderstorm which had at last come to a head. We waited till the worst has passed before heading on, but soon caught it up again, it’s forks of lightening picking out our intended route through the forest. As it seemed to be moving away we progressed, onto the big town of the day – Montargis, where we stocked up on food for the evening.

About 20km south we found a Roman amphitheatre by the side of the road, remarkably well preserved but with little fanfare, it seemed just part of the landscape. At this point we decided to press on to Braire a further 30km south. Our route took us through Rogny with it’s amazing seven lock gates (sept ecluses) and along some very straight roads, which at the end of a long day become quite trying.

We had what seems to be the usual struggle to find the campsite but at last we did, tucked on the banks of the Loire. We had made our first major milestone and celebrated with a shower, good feed and some wine. I’ve just found the flask of Highland Park I tucked in my panniers at the last minute so thought I’d post today’s progress. Funny, I think it does taste better with scottish water added. Tomorrow a shorter day, with perhaps some wine tasting as we start our journey down the Loire.

The first full day of cycling was long but very satisfying. Some bike maintenance first thing saw us set off about 9am, just to stop 5 mins later for breakfast. Then the mission was to it was to get out of Paris, not as easy as one would think, made harder by roadworks and half built cycle ways through industrial estates. But slowly (and with a lot of reference to google maps) the character of the roads changed, buildings were replaced by trees and the traffic thinned out and by mid day we saw our first Chsteau – surely a sign we had made it which we celebrated by eating the baguette we had strapped the pannier rack (French style).

From there our route took us through the Foret de Senart to meet up with the Seine which we followed on small roads lined with grand houses and then into open country. We felt we had truly left Paris behind as we passed fields of thousands of tiny lettuces, enjoying the soaking form the water sprays.

Babizon is a small village on the edge of the Foret de Fontainebleu, it reeked of expensive luxury. Classic car showrooms and art galleries lined the streets along with boutique hotels and stylish restaurants. We didn’t linger! Instead we plunged into the forest and quickly found lots of strange rock formations, some like mushrooms, others like waves. These were the boulders of Fontainebleau I’d read about in climbing magazines as a teenager and now we were here. After a few minutes clambering around I remembered I’m not a very good climber so we pressed on, up and over then down into Fontainebleau itself.

Apparently it’s not a palace, rather just a chateau! It looked like a palace to my untrained eye. Even an expensive beer didn’t convince me. A sketch 30 min search for a supermarket resolved itself (thankfully) as we had another 10kms to go to the campsite we had spotted. Except when we got there it looked shut! Disaster, the next was another 20kms. While we tried to work out what next we heard voices, so asked – result, it was open, we has just arrived at the side entrance. 5 mins later we were pitching the tent by a lovely lake and all was right in the world. Food, wine, shower, bed. This looks like it may be the pattern for the days ahead.

A day of three halves! Firstly to London, watching the green English landscape roll by while fielding questions from clients.

The second on the Eurostar to Paris via the refurbished St Pancras, now with more in common with an airport than a Victorian station.

The third from Gare du Nord to a campsite to the south east of the centre. We were lucky enought to spot our bikes being unloaded from the train and were able to retrieve them without trecking to the baggage depot (hard to imagine being allowed to in the UK). This saved us a good half hour but meant we were plunged straight into the streets of Paris at rush hour!

By stitching together cycle and bus lanes we made it to the Pompidou Centre and then Notre Dame. We felt conspicuous amongst all the other tourists, but they didn’t seem to notice. From there we cycled along the southern bank of the Seine, trying to find a suitable bridge to cross over to the promise of cycle lanes. We eventually found one and were rewarded by the first stress free pedalling through Bois des Vincennes . Google maps on the phone came in handy negotiating the one way system around Joinville and steered us to the campsite by Champigny sur Marne.

Pitched the tent, grabbed a shower, then back to the river Marne and a restaurant we passed on the run in for ‘moules et frites’ and a bottle of wine. Cycling the rush hour in Paris was one of the most daunting things I’ve ever done on a bike, that said the drivers were courteous and gave us lots of space. The scooter riders are a law unto themselves though.

Back at the tent I can here the campsite bar blaring out beats and the rumble of the Perifique is constant, not totally dissimilar from the first night of Glastonbury which also started today. But for us the road to Fontainbleau beckons…