Breakfast of coffee in a bowl, French style (despite there being lots of everything in the house, I can't find any cups) and yoghurt and bananas, all bought at the Arabe du coin last night. Enough to keep me riding for a while.
Just out of Roinvilliers, I almost get run over by a group of ten or so bike riders who come from the right at high speed. They are, of course, all males, and are, of course, all dressed in their colourful Lycra suits. They turn right, into the road ahead of me but one of them misses the turn and goes straight on. When the others realise what's happened they quickly shout to each other not to go back or wait, but to go faster and leave him behind. Team spirit and all that. The sole rider turns around and as he comes up beside me, by way of greeting, he says: The bastards left me behind! And he pushes on up the hill in pursuit of his mates.
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| Rain coming |
All day long the rain threatens. The weather forecast has been for rain, and lots of it. It's nice riding with a bit of cloud cover, both because it makes the sky more interesting and also because it means I don't have to worry so much about getting sunburnt. And it's not nearly as hot as it was yesterday. I get a few spots of rain but nothing serious, although I do notice that in some areas the road is quite wet, so there have definitely been showers which luckily I have missed. The ride is pleasant and progress is quick. I don't know whether it's because I am getting fitter (probably not) or maybe it's me trying to stay ahead of the rain or perhaps it's just the road and countryside.
At one stage the route takes me on to a small path which becomes a pretty tough track. I hear gunfire not too far away and remember that Sunday is hunting day. You see occasional groups of cars parked in the middle of nowhere and every now and then you see groups of hunters with their rifles walking through the fields. I just hope that they don't mistake me for something they're hunting.
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| Riding through the Forêt de Fontainebleau |
I'm approaching the Forêt de Fontainebleau, part of the reason I came this way; to be able to ride though the forest. Now the rain is more than a few spots and I wonder whether I'm going to make it all the way without significant rain; it's looking questionable. I briefly stop in a bus shelter, which takes me back to my first ride along the Camino de Santiago when I hid from an absolute torrential downpour in a bus shelter near the Spanish coast. But for now the rain holds off and I continue into the forest, which is just gorgeous riding. There's an enormous number of paths through these forests, ranging from paved roads to little tracks. I've chosen a paved path which traverses a large part of the forest. It's lovely riding. A bit of road and then a little detour to an intersection of nine paths radiating out in a star pattern into the forest. Then, rather unexpectedly my chosen path becomes a rough little track, just as some more rain falls. It's not until I enter the city that the rain starts in earnest. I have only a couple of kilometres to go but it's enough for me to get wet. I arrive at the place which will be my apartment for the night, carry my bike down some narrow stairs into the cellar (were there is only just enough room for the bike) and then climb three flights of stairs up to the apartment, carrying my bags. The apartment is lovely and right in the centre of the city. It's been a good day's ride.
I'm in the restaurant I've selected for dinner. Being a Sunday, many restaurants are closed, so my choice is a bit limited. Tonight I'm going Italian and although I've been seated upstairs (often the area where the overflow and leftovers are seated) the food is good as is the (Italian) wine. When I am shown my place, the upstairs room is almost empty and I prepare for a lonely meal. But after about 10 minutes the room is almost full and throughout the evening each time a table is vacated it's almost immediately filled again. It's a popular place. The staff is all Italian, which I take as a good sign of authenticity. There is plenty to keep me occupied, apart from the food. There's the table of a family of four. All are wearing matching black plastic glasses; I guess the poor eyesight genes were strong in that family. The parents are talking to each other and kids are talking to each other. Not much interaction otherwise. I entertain myself during the (good!) meal by imagining the stories behind all the groups. Everyone's got a smartphone and it's impressive how many people are using theirs during dinner; sometimes everyone at the table is on their phone and not interacting with each other. The table of four black glasses has no phones; they are at least taking with each other.
At the table on my left, the (teenage) daughter has just got up in a huff and left in the middle of the meal. And I thought their conversation was going so well (no smartphones were involved). On my right and older couple both have their phones at hand, checking them often. The table on my left is occupied again, coincidentally by another family of three. Again, parents with a child, but this time it's a boy and he's quite a bit younger. He reads the menu to his parents. I suppose he won't get up and leave in a huff like his predecessor.
I walk back to the apartment, noticing how few people are in the other restaurants that are open.
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