Day 11a: Champigny to Orléans (89km)

I check the weather forecast the night before the next day's ride: sunny in the morning then increasing clouds leading to rain in the late afternoon. I hope I can reach Orléans before late afternoon. Then I notice the wind forecast: strong winds from the south to south west, gusting to 65 km/h. My direction of travel for the whole day? South to south west! It's going to be an interesting day!

Windblown field and tractor

Riding through vast open expanses of barley, wheat, sugar beet and rapeseed (I think in the interests of some form of political correctness one is supposed to call it Canola nowadays, although I believe there is a technical difference) I have zero protection from the icy cold wind (it's only 8 degrees this morning). If I had an airspeed indicator it would be showing impressive numbers, but my ground speed is pathetically show and I spend long intervals in the single digits.

The shadows of the clouds are racing across the fields - there is a lot of wind up there (and down here).

In Méreville I'm cycling slowly through the village streets. I pass an older man in camouflage clothing who is carrying a dog and some baguettes (there's probably a reason for this combination, but I do not ask). He sees me and remarks "lots of wind today - good luck!"

A former public washing house (lavoir)

I'm entering a small town and it has one of those radar speed indicators to let you know if you're entering the 50 km/h zone at the right speed. As cars rush past me I can see the indicator ahead angrily flashing the maximum 59 in red as they all ignore the speed limit (this is France, after all). Then it's my turn and the indicator happily comes up green indicating 12 km/h as I battle the headwind. It gives up when my speed falls into single digits.

I sense that the French weather is saying to me: "So you thought it was windy in Holland? That wasn't windy - this is windy!" And it's true, the wind today is worse. At one point, when my route takes me towards the east, I have the novel experience of having to lean my bike sideways into the wind just to keep going straight ahead. It's a bit like making a wing-down crosswind landing in a light plane. Several times during the day I wonder whether I will last the distance; this feels like an 80 km hill climb. But of course I keep going and I am rewarded with almost 10 km of lovely riding through the enormous Forêt Domaniale d'Orléans, where I am at least partially sheltered from the wind. At 50,000 ha this is the largest forest in France. I am reminded of my comments in yesterday's blog entry; the French really do know something about making forests.

You find crosses everywhere - many with shells along the Way

I pass a dirt track signposted 'Chemin Agricole.' I see a couple of front end loaders scooping loads from huge piles of what at first looks like soil into trailers hitched to farm tractors. Then I wonder; is that really soil? As I ride past, it hits me, almost literally. Chicken shit. Those are huge piles of chicken shit,  tonnes and tonnes of it. How many chickens did it takes to create that much chicken shit? It takes some time for my sense of smell to return to normal. I wonder what those tractor drivers will smell like when they get home.

Hunting for biodiversity

On the roadside I spot a sign with a picture of a pheasant as well as a mock road sign with a silhouette of a pheasant and chicks. 'Slow down!' It says, 'Hunters are working for biodiversity here.'

It's slow riding, so I have time to think about what this sign is trying to tell me. My first thought is that using biodiversity to justify recreational hunting is a bit like the American gun lobby justifying assault rifles as necessary for hunting deer. Then I think, perhaps since I am an introduced species, the sign is warning me that I may get shot. Or is it telling me that I should slow down to avoid running over pheasants? Then I think, why aren't those hunters killing the feral pigeons that are in plague proportions? Will killing all the pheasants really improve the biodiversity?

You get a lot of time to think when you're cycling into the wind at 9 km/h.

In the end, I make it to Orléans, visit the tourist office and then the former town hall to get my stamp, and make it to my B&B literally minutes before the heavens open and the forecast rain arrives. "You were lucky" says my host. "It's all down to my perfect planning." I think to myself.

Orléans Cathedral