2019 Bike Ride - Day 3: Châteaudun to Chartres

It's even colder this morning; 8 degrees. I decide to wear long pants for the beginning of the ride. In the sun it's ok but in the shade I can definitely feel that's it's 8 degrees. The plan is to head out via the local  Intermarché, a large hypermarket on the outskirts of town to buy a lead for my phone battery. It doesn't open until 9:00 and when I get there at around 8:50 there's already a group of people waiting outside to get in. Interesting idea, queuing early to be at the shop when it opens. There's a McDonald's at the complex, so I throw caution to the winds and decide to go there for a coffee while I wait. I know this McDonald's since we've stopped here a couple of times in our drives to Versailles. The McDonald's is also closed; it opens at 09:00 as well. By the time I'm back at the supermarket I'm just in time to see the shutters open and the waiting crowd stream in. It's as if they are waiting for the Boxing Day sales! I buy some things for lunch while I'm here and then decide anyway to get that coffee from McDonald's. I go inside to the counter where there's a young woman stacking a machine with something. Order over there she says, nodding towards the automatic ordering machines that have largely replaced real people. Not even a hello or other greeting, I am clearly disturbing her first thing in the morning. I leave without my coffee, consoling myself that it would have been awful anyway.

Self Portrait

Later I approach a small village, Donnemain-Saint-Mamès, which my map claims has a café. By now I know better than to believe this - every village so far has only had boarded up shops - but to my surprise the Café de la Place is open. I go and have a coffee. I'm the only customer and the coffee is pretty bad; at least it meets my expectations. I sit on the square outside the local church and have my breakfast.

Bonneville is on my route. I know this town, but only from driving past it; the large buildings of some agricultural installation with rainbow colours were a landmark on our commute to Versailles. But we never actually made the effort to visit the town itself, so now I get to discover what it's like, and it's actually quite a nice place, with several old buildings including the old abbey which is now a psychiatric hospital.

There I am in Bonneville, I've just come out of the boulangerie where I've bought my morning tea when I see out of the corner of my eye something run across the road just as a car is passing. Clunk clunk as the wheels run over what turns out to be a cat. The cat is now literally in its death throes, lying in the middle of the road with its back legs kicking spasmodically. A few people have noticed and are looking. I think it's going to die says one, rather unnecessarily. I really don't know what I can do, and any thought of sitting at the café and having a coffee have disappeared. So I ride on, preoccupied with the cat and its death. I find a nice spot by the river where I can sit, forget about the cat, and eat my croissant aux amandes.

Lunch

There is some lovely riding along the Loir just out of Bonneville, the kind of ride that brings a smile to your face. The smile doesn't last however as I am soon back riding into the winds through exposed fields. And it will be like that for the next couple of hours or so. I stop during this part to have lunch: a picnic on the ground with a baguette, camembert and terrine de campagne. And a Côtes du Rhône to go with it all. This is France after all and I should get into the mood!

Close to Chartres I pass a large open area covered in fine gravel. There must be fifty or more people there, all engaged in games of boules. A very French way to spend your Friday afternoon. The path leaves the road and passes through a very pleasant park where there are lots of people out walking. I guess not many people work on Friday afternoon in Chartres.

The last part of the ride into Chartres takes me back again to an earlier ride; it reminds me of the approach to Burgos in Spain. The route follows a winding path through a forested park, along a stream. Very pleasant! Suddenly, up ahead, the famous cathedral pops out above the trees. I'm almost there.

Self Portrait with gnomes

I ride up to the cathedral (actually I walk the bike up a really steep part, I'm not up to riding that part anymore) and spend some time admiring the building and taking a photo of the bike next to the Chemin de Compostelle plaque. Memories of previous visits here come flooding back, including our first visit where we parked our campervan (with the kids on board) right in front of the cathedral for the night. You can't do that anymore! I head to the Auberge de Jeunesse and check in. It's a large but somewhat tired place, purpose built as a hostel with lots of good facilities which are now pretty run down. I almost have a heart attack when I get in the shower to discover only a single tap. A cold shower! Not even in Tamanrasset in the middle of the Sahara desert did I appreciate having a cold shower. And on top of that this shower has one of this press taps which gives you 5 seconds of water before turning itself off again. I press and press and press convinced that it's not possible that the shower could be cold. Sure enough, after what seems like a quarter of an hour (I am, of course, standing there naked and the windows are open - it is not pleasant) some lukewarm water finally appears.

Inside Chartres Cathedral

After doing my chores I head back into the old city to visit the cathedral. My timing is good since there's a service underway. The priest is African and I can't help bring taken back to my time in Africa. His accent is very African and I wonder how it must feel for some of the older people attending the service, who may well remember the African colonial times. Now the tables are turned, and it's an African preaching to them rather than the other way around. And in one of France's most famous cathedrals.

The restaurant I've selected for dinner turns out to look really appealing, until I spot the little note on the door: yes yes, we really are fully booked tonight. So I end up at my second choice, which is one of the restaurants right next to the cathedral. This type of place is normally worth avoiding, being tourist traps. But this one is recommended and I give it a go.

I'm sitting outside despite the cold. There are heaters. I try not to dwell on the environmental impact of having heaters outside. To my right is a table of Americans; two older couples. Not a word of French, not even a merci for the waiter. I ask them what wine they've chosen (they have a carafe, there are three different reds by carafe on the menu). I don't know, it's my wife who chose says the guy (his wife has just gone to the toilet). The other woman in the group helpfully tells me: it's the cheapest one.

The waitress takes orders without taking notes. She takes the orders for the table of four next to me, who complicate things, changing their minds, ordering multiple wines and she takes it all in her stride. She even stops by my table to ask if everything is going well, presumably having memorised the entire order. I am impressed. It reminds me how in French restaurants there are generally less waiters than, for example, in Australia. Yet they manage very well - they definitely have this well sorted and it's something that they could do better in Australia. 

The French table of four next to me also consists of two older couples (just like the Americans on my other side). Actually, they are not all that different. At both tables the men are doing all the talking. And at both tables, one guy seems to be the one who's in charge, or rather has decided he's the one to take control. But on the French table that guy seems obsessed with reading the menu out to the others, telling then what they should order, particularly with the wine. Ironically, they end up ordering wine by the carafe.

There's a group of young guys, seven of them, who've just arrived. One of them is Leonardo DiCaprio. At least he looks just like young Leonardo when he was saving Kate Winslet on the Titanic.  Three more guys arrive, so it's now a large table of ten. It turns out that it's Leonardo's birthday, at least he starts getting presents. A bottle of wine, a polo shirt... Lots of cheek kissing goes on - something you're not likely to see in a restaurant in Australia.

I navigate beck to my hostel, which is dark and empty.

Chartres Cathedral by night