Bike rides - an updated analysis

After having completed the third (and final) stage of riding the Camino de Santiago (Chemin de Compostelle) by bike, I'll present here the updated analyses of my rides in Europe to date. The results are remarkably consistent and they are a useful tool for future trip planning.

Little extras you won't find in a pilgrim hostel

 The Financial Summary:

	Camino part 3 (2018)	Loire à Vélo (2016)	Camino part 2 (2015)	Camino part 1 (2014)
Food	666 (29/day)	234 (33/day)	320 (29/day)	430 (21/day)
Accommodation	552 (24/day)	287 (41/day)	317 (29/day)	308 (10.50/day)
Travel	6	0	31	247
Other	6	0	21	87
Total Cost	1,230	521	689	1,072
Daily Average	53	74	58	33

(all figures in Euros, daily averages exclude special days)

My most recent trip, the third and final part of the Chemin de Compostelle, was the most expensive. This is not really a surprise, because it was also the longest. Looking at the daily figures, which are rather more relevant, it's also not a surprise that this trip was the second-cheapest. This is mostly driven by the accommodation, and is because I tried to stay as much as possible in pilgrim hostels and refuges. The figure would have been considerably lower had it not been for a few nights spent in hotels or B&Bs (Chambres d'hôtes). The latter is a bit misleading in France, since the price can be - and usually is - quite a bit higher than a simple hotel, and they are often rather more than a simple room in someone's house. My most expensive night was, no surprise, in the rather touristy town of St. Emillion in a Chambre d'Hôtes which cost Eur121. On the other extreme, my cheapest night was nil (zero), the very  next night in Cadillac where the pilgrim refuge is in an original pilgrim "cell" in a building which today is part of the psychiatric hospital. Most municipal pilgrim refuges were around eur8 which is, of course, amazingly cheap accommodation and is in line with the prices in Spain. For the Loire à Vélo trip there was obviously no pilgrim accommodation involved and this is reflected in the daily accommodation cost, mostly staying at basic Airbnb places (in effect, more the "traditional" B&B concept of a room in someone's house.) I never camped, but that would, of course, be a way to dramatically reduce your accommodation costs, particularly if you don't stay at formal campsites.

Sleeping in a "cell" won't break the bank

The food was comparable with my previous two trips, which again is not a complete surprise because my style of eating was about the same: a basic breakfast, some fruit and snacks along the way but no formal lunch as such, and a decent dinner, generally in a local restaurant (although sometimes self-catered when staying in hostels). I tended to treat myself to a reasonably decent meal for dinner, with prices generally around eur25 with some notable exceptions.

The Engineering Summary:

	Camino part 3	Loire à Vélo	Camino part 2	Camino part 1
Total number of days	23	8	14	18 *
Total distance ridden (km)	1,514	572	1,110	1,031
Total time on the bike (hrs)	95	34.2	75.8	66.8
Average speed for the trip (km/h)	15.9	16.7	14.7	15.4
Average hours ridden / day	4.1	4.3	5.4	3.9
Average distance ridden / day	65.8	71.5	79.3	60.6
Longest distance ridden in one day (km)	86.1	85.3	105.7	84.5
Shortest distance ridden in one day (km)	38.0	63.2	49.7	34.0
Most hours ridden in one day (hrs)	5.4	5.0	7.1	6.2
Least hours ridden in one day (hrs)	3.0	3.8	3.5	2.1
Highest daily average speed (km/h)	17.9	17.8	15.0	19.1
Lowest daily average speed (km/h)	12.5	15.6	13.5	12.4

* Includes one rest day

Again, these numbers are pretty consistent, and probably reflect the fact that my riding style hasn't really changed much. Four hours a day on the bike is a pretty reasonable number if you want to be comfortable, see some stuff along the way, but also cover a bit of distance. The 5.4 hours I spent on average each day for the second Camino reflects the fact that this trip was a bit time-limited, forcing me to cover a minimum distance / time each day. It wasn't an unreasonable load, but if you're not time-driven, it's better to keep the on-bike time to a more realistic figure. You'll enjoy the ride a lot more! The average speed is again pretty similar to the other rides. The differences are essentially driven by terrain, with hills obviously reducing your averages. It's no surprise that the Loire à Vélo ride, which is essentially flat terrain the whole way, has the highest average speed. The differences in averages might not seem much, but in practice they are significant.

So there you have it; some rough planning numbers would therefore be:

Distance/day: 60 km
Hours ridden/day: 4 hours
Cost/day: eur55 - eur75 depending on your accommodation.

Some tracks are easier to ride than others

Camino v3 - Day 23: Tours to Chemillé (43km)

Bike parking

In the morning when I go to breakfast at the agreed time, I find my bike is all alone. The two other bikes which were keeping it company have disappeared; the Dutch couple has already gone, despite all the discussions of yesterday regarding breakfast times. They were planning to catch a train back to Holland; perhaps they have discovered that there was an early train to Paris that takes bikes (not all trains accept bikes) and they have decided to leave earlier than planned. Either way, it's just me for breakfast in the large dining hall and the two places that have been set for the Dutch couple will go unused.

Breakfast for one in a hall for eighty

The dining hall seats something like 80 people (I counted them, as you do when you're having breakfast alone.) I've only actually seen three nuns (or perhaps more correctly, they are "sisters".) Last night there were eight places set at another table, presumably for the permanent residents. It's a long way from the capacity of the dining hall - I wonder if they ever fill it?

I still have my little key for the Basilica, so after my breakfast I let myself in for a final private session. But to my surprise - I should have known - I am not alone, because the sisters are still singing the matins. It's a beautiful way to end my visit to the Basilica. Had the Dutch couple not insisted that we breakfast at exactly the time that the matins were being sung, I would have been able to hear the whole thing, but I digress.

The Basilique de Saint Martin, all to myself

There's a bike shop in the north of Tours which is sort of on my route - at least it's not a particularly long detour. It doesn't open until 10:00 (like much of France) so I have some time to kill. There are, of course, worse places to spend a couple of hours and I aimlessly ride around the almost-empty streets of Vieux Tours. The street cleaners have been through and the cobblestones are still glistening from the water they've used to wash away the previous day's accumulated dog shit and other detritus, and the whole place has a somewhat magical feel about it providing quite a few nice photo opportunities. I'm distracted by the gorgeous smell of freshly-baked bread from the many boulangeries I pass (it really is impressive how many bakeries you can fit into a square kilometre or so.) Of course I have to stop at one to stock up for the day's ride. I ride to the cathedral, thinking it will be nice to have a final stamp for my credencial. The cathedral is open, but the little kiosk that sells souvenirs and is the keeper of the stamp is still very much closed (it's not ten o'clock yet of course, I should know better.) Outside I meet a German couple who are walking the Chemin de Compostelle - they've started in Germany and are completing the entire route in annual pilgrimages; this year is the Voie de Tours (which I have just ridden). Last year was northern France and the year before that was Belgium. Next year they will finish.

Vieux Tours with a splash of colour

I arrive at the bike shop a couple of minutes before 10:00 and it is, of course, still closed. There's an older guy waiting as well - he has a very sad-looking bike in pieces strapped to the roof of his car. When I tell him I'm from Australia I get the same confused look that I got from the guy with the tractor; that "does not compute" look. And that even after I've clarified that I didn't actually ride my bike from Australia. The bike shop is particularly unhelpful. Unlike the optician yesterday, the bike shop clearly wants to live up to the French reputation for poor customer service. So I ride on, again letting my GPS find little country roads that I didn't even know existed (even though I've ridden and driven through this area many times over the years). It's nice to know you can still discover new things in "familiar" territory. I stop a few times, not so much because I have to, but probably more because I'm stretching out this last section. Besides, I have some things I bought at the boulangerie to eat after all.

As I approach my destination the cloudy sky turns ominously grey; it's almost a repeat of the weather when I left, although luckily the rain holds off. And then I'm there, letting myself in to the house, wheeling the bike through the front door (as you do) and the bike is parked in the front room again. 1,514 km in 23 days; there and back again as Tolkein would have said.

Almost home again; the final stretch.

Camino v3 - Day 22: Châtellerault to Tours (83km)

In Lusignan there was a coffee maker but no filters or coffee. This morning I had coffee and filters (brought with me from Lusignan) but no coffee maker. But with a bit of improvisation I still managed to make myself some coffee to go with my (equally improvised)  breakfast. Necessity is the mother of invention after all. I have the pilgrim refuge - the same one I stayed in on the journey southwards - all to myself, which means I can do what I want when I want, but also takes away from the idea of staying in a pilgrim hostel and sharing the experience with other people following the same route. I am on the road before sunrise, anticipating the longer ride today and wanting to get as much of the ride done in the cooler part of the day since the forecast is for a hot day, which it indeed turns out to be.

Antogny - morning stop

I am backtracking much of the route today, recognising things and places as I ride. At Antogny I stop at a nice little square opposite the church, which I completely missed on the way down. It's a nice spot for my morning coffee break, even though there's no coffee to be had in this tiny little village. I make do with water and the pastry that I brought with me. Although I'm riding the same route there's still some things it get to see for the first time, which is nice.

At Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois, which is the town where the well-coiffed woman chatted with me from the window of her house, the Maison du Dauphin, I stop for lunch. I decide to take a different route from here back to Tours, so I'm not completely retracing my steps. I let my GPS app propose some options, since my map isn't detailed enough to show all the little roads. It's amazing that here in France even the tiniest little roads are sealed and perfectly suited for my purpose (for this final part I'm trying to avoid unsealed paths, wanting to complete the whole journey without any punctures if I can). I decide to be a bit lazy and follow a GPS route from here, which takes me quite a bit further west than the original route, but enters Tours via a much nicer area.

Entering Tours with the tram

It turns out to be quite a good ride, going through a couple of nice towns, in particular Monts, which I note for future reference. Once I get to the outskirts of Tours it turns out that my app is pretty good at finding bike paths, and even if at times the route seems a bit bizarre, it does actually make some sense. I cross the river, Le Cher, on a bike path that follows the tram line, which I would never have thought to do from the map, which shows the bridge as having no road, just the tram line.

And then suddenly there I am, standing in front of the Basilique Saint Martin and I've reached my destination. I have a bit of the same 'and now what's next' feeling I had when I reached the cathedral in Santiago. In any case I have some time to kill, since the nuns running the pilgrim refuge associated with the basilica, where I plan to spend my last night of this journey, don't open for business until 18:00 and I've arrived at about 15:00. But I have a mission: I want to get my squashed glasses fixed if possible. I find a branch of the same optician chain that I bought the glasses from years ago and lucky for me I am served by a very helpful woman who knows about the Chemin de Compostelle and is very understanding of my situation. While I wait, my glasses are fixed, and at absolutely no cost. I even get a new case to protect them together with a well-intentioned lecture on taking better care of my glasses. Who says customer service is dead in France? Here's the exception. Not bad at all.

Arrival at the Basilique de Saint Martin, Tours

Tours has free WiFi in many parts of the city, so I sit in a park catching up on a few things while being 'entertained' by having to see a young couple with several dogs let their dog take a shit on the grass right where people are sitting with their lunches. Shortly thereafter two mounted police ride through the park and I am secretly hoping that they are the dog shit police but no such luck. To somehow enforce this point, one of the riders lets her horse liberally pee onto the grass. Knowing that the grass is used for dog shit and horse pee makes me glad I've chosen to sit on a bench.

Basilica dormitory for one tonight

At the appointed hour I am at the basilica and being shown around, together with two other cyclists (a Dutch couple, of course) by one of the nuns. The place is spotlessly clean and well equipped. It's not meant just for Santiago pilgrims, but mainly as a place for people looking for a spiritual retreat for whatever reason. Tonight there's just the three cyclists and the head nun clearly doesn't see us as "real" pilgrims, which, to be fair, by her definition we probably aren't. Although I had thought that perhaps the pilgrims shared their dinner with the nuns, the three of us eat alone in large (spotless) dining hall. The dinner is much less frugal than I had been lead to believe and although simple is copious and good. There's even dessert.

Pilgrim Credencial - completed

The head nun comes after dinner to arrange breakfast and departure times, as well as take our payment since we will be leaving around the time of matins. "You can pay me now" she says, "The amount is up to you and it's €30 per person." I find this statement a little contradictory but don't press the point. I'm thinking that for Dutch bike riders, who are all using the same guide in which the refuge is mentioned, the sisters have realised that not many of them are actually on a spiritual pilgrimage and that they can afford to pay a reasonable amount. Walkers no doubt get a different treatment, which is probably not at all unreasonable. Arlette the Belgian walker I met in Lusignan had stayed here and when we talked about it confirmed that, for her at least, the payment was indeed 'donativo' meaning at the discretion of and according to the means of, the pilgrim. She had given €15, which probably gave her some extra pocket money for a couple of extra cans of beer for the walk the next day.

We each get a set of keys with an explanation of which key is for what: "This key is for your room, this key is for the big gate and the little key is for the church." I check to make sure I've heard that correctly: I've just been given the key to let myself into the Basilica of Saint Martin in Tours. We are not taking about a little local church here; we're taking about a tourist destination basilica of serious proportions and importance. And I have the key. Of course I have to test this and so after dinner I let myself into the now empty church, which I have all to myself for as long as I like. How good is that?

Ride this way

Camino v3 - Day 21: Lusignan to Châtellerault (65km)

I'm in the kitchen of the apartment - it's not really a 'refuge' at all, but really a complete two-bedroom apartment - comparing maps with Arlette, the Belgian walker. She's trying to see where she might stop today and ironically she's asking me, a cyclist, for advice. I suggest a few places that might be big enough to have some accommodation, although having passed through the area yesterday I know that most of the places shown as villages on the map are not much more than hamlets, with nothing much in the way of shops or much else. The walking maps suffer from the problem that they don't show much of the area at any distance either side of the route, whereas my map gives more information about what's around. Then I realise that in this section the walking route is quite different to the cycling route, essentially because there's not much in the way of roads or paths to choose from. So what I've ridden through yesterday isn't going to be of much help to Arlette. 

And then I look more closely at my route: "climb 1km, climb 7-9%, climb 10%" and so it goes. I look at Arlette's map, which shows some of the relief, and realise that my route is crossing a long series of ridges. Do I really need this first thing this morning? It's Sunday and the roads will be quiet early in this cold morning. I convince myself - it doesn't take much - to take the main road for this part. It's straight, follows the railway line, and will be considerably shorter and the climbs will be less often and more gentle. After three weeks I give myself permission to take the bigger road for once. My grand plan will come slightly unstuck closer to Poitiers, where there's the dreaded 'cars only' sign up ahead and I have to plan a detour through little roads to rejoin my route. My detour involves a steep climb out of a deep valley (after une belle déscente down into the valley it must be said) so I don't get to escape the climbs entirely. In the early morning it's impressive how much and how quickly the temperature drops as I descend into the valley; something you'd miss entirely if you were in a car.

"La Vienne, everything to seduce you" - follow the arrows

Arlette still has two cans of beer left. When I met her yesterday in the little grocery store, amongst her purchases for the next day - bread, some sliced meat, a piece of quiche - I noticed she bought four cans of beer. Belgians are known for their beer, but I thought this was just a little odd for someone who's carrying everything in a backpack for thirty kilometres each day. And these are not your usual cans; they are the French 500ml cans, so here she was loading up with 2kg of beer! When we got back to the refuge, about the first thing she did was open one. "Would you like some beer?" she asked. I suggested we could split the can between us - after all one glass of beer before a dinner  that would involve wine would be plenty I thought. She looked at me like I had suggested something unthinkable. No, it had to be a can each. And it didn't take her long to knock back a half litre of beer, something she was obviously used to doing. So this morning she still has her two remaining cans (1kg...) for the walk. When I commented on this she explained that the weight wasn't a problem; she put one can on either side of her pack, in the little external pockets. That way it would be balanced and she could easily get to them when she needed to.

Perhaps the roadside rest areas need signs similar to these

I've stopped at a roadside parking bay on the main road; it's time for a quick pee-and-drink  break. I walk off the roadside towards the bushes and am confronted with the evidence that I am not the only one to take a break here. I should, of course, have known better on this main road. Walking any further would be seriously tempting fate as I survey the ground ahead of me dotted with with little piles of tissue paper, some of which are only partially hiding what's underneath. The joys of the main road. I step back from the brink and go back to the safety of my bike.

The last few days I've found myself looking at tractors, and especially the colour. Is it a Massey Ferguson? A John Deere? There's an impressive number of old or abandoned tractors around. When I was stopped at Annepont a couple of days ago, a guy came up to me and asked where I was from. Australia, I told him. He looked puzzled, and I got the impression that his worldview didn't quite extend that far, which it probably didn't. A little later, I heard a loud clattering mechanical sound of a vintage engine of some sort. It was the guy riding his ancient tractor through the village. And what did I notice about the tractor? That it was orange. And all this because of a Swiss woman who carried a photograph of her old family tractor with her.

I arrive in Châtellerault; familiar territory since I stayed here on my ride South. I've chosen to stop here since, apart being a good day's ride from Tours, it's Sunday and I figured that it makes sense to stay in a larger town with a lot of restaurants and places to buy food. I should have known better. After picking up my key for the pilgrim's refuge, I ride into town, to the restaurant I had dinner at last time I was here and which I know is good. Why not make a reservation to be sure of a table? The guy looks at me as if I'm from another planet. "It's Sunday" he states "We close for dinner on Sunday." Of course. So I ask him if he would be so kind as to suggest a place that's open. "You won't find anything, all the restaurants are closed on Sunday". This seems unlikely but I'm beginning to think it might be true. I ride back to the tourist office, which surprisingly is open on a Sunday (but only the afternoon). "There's a crêperie that's open every day, and there's one boulangerie still open until 16h00, that's about it" I'm told. As it happens, I know this crêperie and it's even quite close to my refuge, so I ride there. A crêpe for dinner would be fine. The sign on the door says 'open 7/7 every day' but the handwritten sign stuck underneath says: 'Exceptionally closed today, reopens Monday'. Just my luck. I go to the boulangerie and pick up some emergency supplies since things are not looking so good for dinner tonight.

1858 - the " Bone Shaker" vélocipède

As it happens, today is the Journée du Patrimoine, an annual event throughout France and in fact Europe. Various sites are opened to the public, some museums are free, concerts are held and so on. Châtellerault has a Motor Museum, which happens to be one of the ones open today. So I head there after having done my daily chores. Appropriately for me, the exhibition begins with examples of the first bicycle, complete with wooden tyres and pedals attached directly to the hub of the front wheel (and no brakes, but then early cars didn't have much in the way of brakes either). I'm glad I'm doing this trip now and not 150 years ago. After visiting the museum I stop at the nearby skate park and watch people tempt serious injury without so much as a helmet or even knee or elbow pads. Madness. There's also the usual dogs on leashes sniffing and playing with each other as their owners attempt to untangle the leads. And then along walks a woman pushing a stroller with, no surprise guessing, a dog in it. Dogs are definitely pampered here.

While I'm admiring the dog-in-a-pram, I notice there's a free WiFi hotspot here so I connect. Then I have a brainwave; I search for grocery stores that are open on Sunday and lo and behold there's one not too far away! I'm in the 'suburbs' out of the town centre now. I'm thinking that a beer or maybe some wine would be nice to have with my ad-hoc emergency dinner. I navigate my way there, and sure enough, right there in the middle of a somewhat dodgy area is a little local grocery store that's open. As I walk in, the girl at the checkout greets me. She's wearing a head scarf and I realise I'm not going to find any alcohol in this place, which a quick look at what's on the shelves confirms. And it was looking so promising! The flip side of my disappointment is that I discover almost across the road a little hole-in-the-wall pizza place which is open. Dinner will be pizza then.

Looking at my search results I see there's another possibility for an open supermarket, a bit further out of town. I go back to the refuge and get the bike, ride out of town without expecting too much. As I ride the signs are not promising: there's a kebab place, I see quite a few women in head scarves and the area gets decidedly dodgy. Still, I persist and to my surprise, when I get there, not only is there a supermarket, it's open, and it has a decent selection of everything, including alcoholic drinks. When I enter the store, the guy at the  checkout suggests I bring the bike inside so he can keep an eye on it for me. It's a nice gesture but it also confirms my feeling about the area. A bottle of beer to go with the pizza and some milk for morning coffee, a few other supplies and I'm set.

Back at the pizza place I order dinner while the cook lights up a cigarette (and continues making pizzas). One can't be worrying about little details like hygiene when it's Sunday evening and dinner calls. Back at the pilgrim refuge, I eat my pizza, which is good, accompanied by a nice beer and the sounds of the carillon of the Saint Jacques church, just next door, being played especially for the Journée du Patrimoine. Not so bad after all.

Home delivered pizza

Later, I sit on my glasses, completely bending them out of shape. Not the best way to end the day. I decide to have an early night.