In keeping with the theme of the last couple of days, the church bells ring 8 as I ride into Saint Aulaye this morning; I've obviously timed my arrived well. It's a chilly 10 degrees (I regretted leaving the windows of my mobile home open last night).The tourist office is, of course, closed. Not only is it still early, but today is Sunday, so it's not open today anyway. But as I suspected, they've left their WiFi on and I can connect from outside. Last night my campsite mobile home didn't come equipped with WiFi.
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| Be careful! One train can hide another... |
After uploading and downloading all those things that couldn't possibly wait (hence the squatting outside the closed tourist office) I ride to the local café / bar - apart from the boulangerie next door it is the only place in the town open on this Sunday morning - and have yet another awful coffee. The bar is full of men; I suppose the women are all at home, or perhaps they have gone to church. And then just now the lady owner (she's the only female in the place and I assume she's the owner) comes up to me with a cheery "Bonjour Monsieur" and shakes my hand, completely changing my impression of the place; I guess I do stand out as not being one of her regulars.
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| Wild boar country |
The ride out of Saint Aulaye goes through the Fôret de la Double which according to my guide is known for hunting and gathering mushrooms - like many forests in France. It's dark and a bit foreboding. Up ahead squatting by the side of the road is a guy wearing a beret, hi-vis pants, and talking on his mobile. In his other hand he has a rifle, and with his back to the road he is displaying an impressive plumber's crack. It's a little bizarre and at the same time disconcerting (the whole image is bizarre, the rifle I find disconcerting). As I continue up the hill (of course, this morning's ride is starting with a long hill climb - at least it's cold so I'm not sweating) I see more figures along the road wearing hi-vis jackets (easier to see than just the pants). I suppose wearing hi-vis clothing, which I believe by law hunters are required to do, makes it less likely that they'll be mistaken for a wild boar and shot. Perhaps it also gives the prey a little more chance of seeing them and so not being shot. The people hiding the bushes along the road all have guns and are obviously waiting for their prey (what are they hunting here, is it wild boars?) Hunting must be a bit like fishing; lots of waiting interrupted by a few moments of excitement. I'm surprised to see a couple of teenage girls amongst the waiting hunters; clearly hunting is not an exclusively male sport in this region.
As if to answer my earlier question, a few minutes later two wild boars run across the road just ahead of me; I can't help hoping that no hunter has seen them and is about to shoot. Still, I'm glad I'm wearing my hi-vis jacket. And then to make things even more interesting, a bit later a deer runs across the road too.
Much of today's ride seems like passing through a series of ghost towns. There's not a soul in sight and everything is shut tight; the silence is almost oppressive. Sunday in country France.
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| Lunch |
Lunch today is from the land. I pick a load of blackberries and later stop at an abandoned apple tree from which I pick several quite nice apples. I've been looking at various fruit trees along the way, thinking that is seems such a waste to let all this fruit just rot on the tree and fall to the ground, so today I finally decide I might as well eat some of it. Especially since there are no shops anywhere along the route today (and if there were, they'd all be shut today anyway.)
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| St Émilion (wine) in the making |
And then I'm in wine country, riding through fields of vineyards stretching into the distance. I'm not sure what it is about the vineyards, but it's uplifting and very pleasant riding, particularly since there are less and less hills now. I'm riding from Château to Château in St Émilion country. A grand cru here, a grand cru there. I notice that the villages, although they are still ghost towns as they have all been today, are getting more and more prosperous and neat and tidy. There's obviously money at work here.
My destination for tonight is in fact the small, quaint, and now awfully touristy town of St Émilion. If you can look past the crowds of mostly foreign tourists, the town itself is really quite nice, with steep cobbled streets and buildings all made of the lovely golden local limestone.
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| St Émilion |
After finding and then after a bit of a wait, checking into the chambre d' hôtes that will be my bed for the night, I go for a walk around the village. I know the way since I've been here before; in any case it's simple: everything is uphill from my B&B. The tourist office here is open (they could hardly get away with closing in a town like this, even on a Sunday) so I get my credencial (pilgrim passport) stamped to record my passage.
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| The bike gets to stay in the (outdoor) restaurant |
For dinner I avoid the overpriced tourist-oriented 'haute cuisine' restaurants (i.e. almost all restaurants in the town) and eat at a more locally-oriented place in the unfashionable low side of town - conveniently almost next door to my B&B. I treat myself to a couple of glasses of the local produce, given that I'm in St Émilion I could hardly do otherwise, no?
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