Day 7a: Cambrai to Noyon (92km)

That is so frustrating! While riding, you think of an interesting anecdote or story for the blog and compose the perfect bit of prose in your head, planning to write it down at the next stop. And at the next stop the only thing you can remember of your masterpiece is the fact that you'd wanted to write something down.

Everything you need is this way

Yesterday I came across two Dutch bikers on their way to Santiago. After having seen them a couple of times we finally stopped at the same place and had a chat (which is when I discovered that they were on their way to Santiago and confirmed my assumption that they were Dutch). Their bikes were incredibly heavily laden, with double pannier bags at the back as well as the front, as well as another bag on top. One of the bikes also had a random collection of loose clothing tied on the back, flapping in the wind. "You're carrying a lot", I observe. "We have everything we need" one guy explains. "In that bag I have my tent, my sleeping bag and mattress and a chair" he explains. "In that bag is my cooking stuff..." He continues explaining things, but I'm still back at the chair. A chair? You want to ride to Spain carrying your own chair? I think this to myself of course and briefly consider telling them that they might find it a little challenging hauling that load over the mountains in Spain, but I think better off it. I think of the (Dutch, as it happens) saying that says: 'Alles dat je achterlaat is meegenomen' which is a bit of a play on words and means, more or less, 'Whatever you leave behind will make your journey easier'.

After yesterday's rainy ride, I check all the forecasts to see if there is a consensus. The guys I am staying with helpfully bemoan the terrible weather that's coming for the next four days, but the forecasts are generally not too grim. It's cold and damp when I leave, which it will stay the whole day. The whole day I am cold, even though it warms up to a balmy 12 degrees in the afternoon. It is almost summer, after all. It's one of the challenges when you're riding on a cold day: keeping warm without overheating. My wind-blocking yellow riding vest helps a lot and I am constantly opening it when riding uphill (generating plenty of my own heat) and closing it again on the downhill runs when the wind chill is significant.

Watchtower - all that remains of a former settlement

Soon after starting, I pass the Abbeye de Vaucelles. This is located in a bit of a valley and there's mist, and it's cold. The roosters are crowing occasionally, but otherwise there is complete silence. It seems an appropriate ambience for these massive buildings dating from 1132, giving witness to the former glory of the settlement.

Later I pass through Catelet. The route into this village is through a grim street of dilapidated houses with dilapidated cars parked in front, with people who stare at you with mouths slightly agape and follow your progress as you pass with a look of 'I wonder what that was' on their faces. I ride on.

A cement pigeon is a good pigeon

Throughout the day I pass more stone and cement ornaments in front gardens and sitting on fence posts. Pigeons on the fence is a new one. I am writing this while three cement pigeons stare down at me: I am not a fan of pigeons, but I can deal with cement ones. Next I come across dice standing on their corner on each fence post. Lions with their paw not on a ball in the Chinese style (although I've seen those too) but with their paw on a coat of arms. There's swans, gnomes, frogs, cherubs, pelicans, windmills, a tortoise and more. I ride through one village where gnomes seem to have become a theme, with several gardens clearly trying to outdo each other in the number of garden ornaments per square metre.

Although I didn't have to climb any mountains, the route is certainly becoming more vertically challenging than it has been so far. The day has its ups and downs, literally. And as I learnt last year, for every down there's an up, or for every up there will be a down, depending on how you look at these things. You struggle up a long climb with the thought that a nice downhill run is coming; conversely you enjoy a free ride on a nice downhill run knowing that on the other side you'll be struggling up another climb. On one memorable occasion today I briefly exceeded the speed limit entering a town at 62 km/h after coming down an impressively long hill. The long climb out the other side of town was my penalty.

Over dinner last night, apart from politics, the discussion inevitably turned to food. It's like when you're eating out at a restaurant; how often is out that the conversation is about other restaurants you've eaten at and other meals you've had? And as always happens at some point when I'm traveling internationally, I am asked that awkward question: what are the typical dishes in Australia? Maybe I am missing something, but I always have to fall back to generalisations about Australia having taken on board cuisines from all over the world, without having any typical dishes itself. Yes, we do eat Kangaroos (although I think that was more a passing fashion than anything else) and no, we don't eat emus. To highlight this quandary, one of the (French) guys proposes Lamingtons as a typical dish. Fosters beer and Lamingtons; these seem to be the internationally accepted idea of Australian cuisine.

Cute, but soon to be roadkill

Near the end of today's ride I spot movement on the side of the road as I cycle past (slowly, since I am going uphill). It's a hedgehog, which up to now I've only seen in its 'ex-Hedgehog' flattened state. I stop and cautiously go up to it, not wanting to frighten it. Then I discover why there are so many flat hedgehogs around; the hedgehog doesn't run away, it doesn't attack me; it does nothing. It just continues snuffling around in the grass. When I get really close (I am holding my phone camera inches from it for a close up) it simply freezes. Cute, but likely to be short lived if it stays by the roadside.

I reach Noyon, with its impressive cathedral, at 17:45. I head straight for the tourist office in the hope that it might still be open (I want a stamp for my passport, and plan to leave early in the morning, before the office is likely to open). I am pleasantly surprised to find the office open and I get my stamp. I find out that the cathedral is open until 19:00; quite different to the closed churches I have encountered so far. So I head to the cathedral and go inside. I always find it amazing that places like this, hundreds of years old, containing priceless treasures, are simply left open and unattended. I'm glad that at least in some places this is still possible. As I'm leaving, getting my bike ready, a guy walks past and asks me whether I'm on the Camino and would I like a stamp? He's the guardian of the cathedral and he's come to lock up for the night. And so I finally get my first 'real' stamp (from the cathedral as opposed to those given by the tourist office).

Approaching Noyon: bends and Cathedral

The place I am staying at tonight has no breakfast and I have another long ride tomorrow. Then again, it is not possible to go riding with only a French breakfast as sustenance in any case. Coffee and yesterday's baguette toasted and served with jam is not a sound basis for a day's riding. I will have to improvise.