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.
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| "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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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