2019 Bike Ride - Day 2: Vendôme to Châteaudun

I'm a bit curious to see what they serve the working youth of France for breakfast. Knowing that breakfast in France is normally not the highlight of the day my expectations are fairly low. And they're almost met: awful coffee from an automatic machine, a large basket of pieces of baguette (nice and fresh it must be said) and some trays with apricot jams, honey and butter. There's also another machine dispensing dubious orange juice. The surprise is the row of cereal dispensers, probably reflecting an Americanisation of the breakfast culture for the youth of France. I am shocked to discover that the choice of cereals consists of Coco Pops, chocolate flakes, Sugar Frosties and some other anonymous sugary confection. And they wonder why obesity rates are soaring! No muesli or any other even remotely healthy cereals are on offer. I spot a little sign next to a bell push: hostel guests (i.e. not the regular residents) push here for a viennoiserie (croissant or pain au chocolat). A special treat for the paying guests. The woman offers me a yoghurt as well.

It's cold this morning - 10 degrees - and I can see the trees swaying in the stiff breeze. It looks like another hard ride.

Vendôme near the youth hostel

I start the ride by going back into the town; a little out of my way, but I want to go to the Chapelle St Jacques. I am on the Chemin St Jacques after all. As I ride I am thinking maybe I should put another layer on (I'm already wearing three) because it's actually pretty chilly, particularly with the wind. I've stopped to take a photograph of the graffiti artwork and am passed by a guy on a bike wearing just a t-shirt and shorts. I guess the cold is relative.

As you ride you obviously have time to think about all sorts of things. Today's ride is reminding me of the first day setting off from Amsterdam a few years ago, riding along the dykes through the tulip fields. There's no tulips here on the path along the Loir River, but it's pretty flat and so should be easy going. Except, that is, when there's a strong blustery headwind. It was like that in Holland and it's like that now. You expect the riding to be easy and it's anything but. I'm also taken back to my first ride along the Camino in Spain. There, every little village had a café serving excellent café con léché. You could ride from coffee to coffee, never being more than a few kilometres - or so it seemed - from the next coffee. Here, in two days' riding I have yet to get a coffee. The villages I've gone through are either too small to have any shops or more commonly they used to have some but they're now all boarded up and abandoned. Lots of cafés du commerce and bars du coin, but none of them actually open anymore. And in any case, from my experience, even if they were open, the coffee they serve would be pretty dire. Somehow the French just don't seem to be able to make a decent coffee with milk.

Montigny-le-Gallenon

I'm riding along the Loir and a local rider pulls up alongside. He's the typical French rider: all done up in his Lycra hear, complete with logos. He's on a Gitane racing bike, spare inner tube strapped to the frame. Normally these riders come in pairs or bigger groups but this one is solo and around my age. He slows down and rides alongside for a chat making him definitely not your typical French rider (I am normal ignored by French bike riders, obviously being not one of them). He rides a couple of times a week, 40 - 60 km in the morning; about what I ride in a day I tell him. But you're heavily loaded and have a lot of wind resistance he admits graciously. And then he takes the next side road which leads up the hill; much more challenging than the flat path along the river.

The ride along Loir is getting more pleasant as the wind subsides a bit. I ride into Cloyes-sur-Loir, bringing back a lot of memories of when we used to drive from Chemillé to Versailles, passing near or through this town, even though I am seeing a completely different part of it from the bike. We used to always stop at a rest area near this town. I ride into the town and up to the church, and as if on cue, the bells chime the hour. Amazing!

Riding a bike means you move slow enough to really notice and observe your surroundings. You see things you will never notice as you speed by in a car. You're more a part of the surroundings, something which I particularly appreciate when riding through forests and along rivers. I appreciate it a bit less when it's cold and raining, but that's not the case today. You also get to see people and their houses up close. The old man sitting in the sunshine in the kitchen. The workmen trimming a hedge. The kids playing with the dog in the front yard.

The path heads away from the river and into more exposed terrain and I am back battling headwinds for the final part of the ride.

Gîte d'Etape

I'm staying at the Gîte d'étape, which doesn't open until 16:00. So I have a look around the town and have some more of the baguette and cheese as afternoon tea. The rest of the baguette gets fed to the ducks who probably shouldn't be eating bread but don't complain; except to each other when they're not the first to grab the next bit of bread.

The Gîte is clean and neat and basic although it has everything you need, including as the woman running it is at pains to point out, individually allocated toilets, showers, and washbasins. No sheets but I have my own. Since I'm scrimping on the accommodation (both last night and tonight) I've decided to lash out for dinner, which will probably cost considerably more than my room. I discover a nice looking restaurant which turns out to be the number one rated restaurant according to TripAdvisor. I book a table for the night.

I'm the first to arrive - I've booked for 19:30, a half hour after they open. The guy assures me they will be full tonight. The menu looks promising but the service is a bit too obsequious for my liking. I get the impression they have been trained to perform in a certain way and they plan to stick to the script.

After about a half hour, there's a table of five women, and a bit later another table of two women. I realise that I'm the only male customer so far. A half hour later, the more people arrive and I no longer have to feel that my riding boots and gear would be out of place in such a pretentious establishment. Two older guys come in, both wearing rather grotty sneakers and generally looking like they didn't bother changing before coming to the restaurant. They are accompanied by a young woman who's most definitely got dressed for the occasion. Quite a contrast.

I've ordered the magret de canard, a dish which is very French, but which I wouldn't normally order since duck is not something I am a big fan of. But I throw caution to the wind, tempted by the description of it being slow cooked 6 hours. When it arrives, the waiter follows the script, and explains: this is the mashed potato, this is pureed carrot, and this is a tomato that's been roasted... While I'm eating the duck, which is impressively good, I think of the ducks I was feeding just a few hours earlier. I wonder if my slow-cooked duck ate bread?

The table set for nine arrives and now I am feeling overdressed. They are all in their very early twenties and there's no pretence there. Hoodies, exposed underpants, t-shirts and ripped jeans. The girls, on the other hand, are very nicely dressed for the evening, making quite a contrast with their male companions. I can't help thinking that when I was their age, there was no way I would ever have gone to a restaurant like this. Probably both because I would have had a completely different sort of place I would have gone to and also because I wouldn't have been able to afford it anyway.

During the meal, I realise that I am the only one in the place drinking wine. This comes as a bit of a shock given that I'm in France. Most tables have ordered an aperitif, but by they look of them, mostly non-alcoholic. And every table has a bottle, or bottles, of water, bubbly or not. The group of hoodies and torn jeans has a couple of beers. But that's it. I guess the drink driving laws have had an effect.

Finally, the remaining table arrives, a group of six. And so the restaurant is indeed full, as advertised. My dessert arrives, complete with an explanation by the waiter of its various components. And the table of six, a more conservative group than the rest, orders a bottle of wine, so I am not alone. Maybe they have a designated driver. All I have to do is negotiate the 200 steps down from the castle level to the river where my Gîte is.

And then, before I've left, the table of six (the ones who'd ordered wine) suddenly gets up and leaves, before they've eaten anything. Did they order? I ask the waiter and he explains that one of the group had recently had a stomach operation and couldn't eat onions. Since all the meals contain onions... So they all left. Just a little bit odd, to say the least.

I manage all 200 steps and am back at my Gîte for a well-earned sleep.

After dinner steps - Châteaudun