Week One: We Made It!

YEAH!

Dear readers,

Nay, we have not fallen off the face of the earth, nor rolled off the edge of a cliff ( though Hilary nearly did two days ago...)! We arrived in Nantes yesterday afternoon, to which the proof above clearly atests! We've been journaling our little hearts out the whole way, whenever we had the time and energy to, and we've got a week's worth of anecdotes to recount. Raconteurs to the max, Jack White ain't got nothin' on us (though we dig his grooves...sorry, tangent). We're in Nantes for the weekend, so we'll see how much we get done today and finish up by the time we leave again on Monday for Rennes and St-Mâlo!

Day 1 - June 26
Though we got a late start last Thursday evening, we wanted to get a move on it and start burning some tread. Our maiden voyage took us from Hilary's flat, down the Canal-St-Martin and across the Seine to the Gare d'Austerlitz, where we caught the regional train out of Paris. Yeah, okay, perhaps some purists would call this cheating, but given the choice between inhaling Parisian fumes and pedaling through lovely French countryside, the choice was clear to us.



We hopped on the RER C heading south at 7:28pm (a friendly Parisian helped Hilary struggle up the escalator with her unwieldly load), smiling and shrugging as commuters packed on and filed off. The suburbs rolled away out of view, and trees and bodies of water began to appear. We finally descended at 8:28pm in Etampes, checked the map and shoved off, heading south on D49 in the direction of Orléans, a straight, relatively flat, 2-lane highway.

Our first kilometers were through the Juine river valley. All agog with smiles and delight -- is this truly happening? It is! -- we breathed the riparian forest in deeply and felt the early evening chill come on. Few cars passed. At Saclas, we went uphill for the first time -- slowly -- slowly -- dismount -- out of the valley, and we caught the last rays of sun as it followed our suit, the forest a dark silhouette over the Juine.


Heading away from the river, we crossed an old, overgrown railroad track, and we thought: how cool would it be to cross the US by bike on old railroad tracks? The way would be flat, mostly tree-lined, and would have a minimum of road crossings and no cars or trucks wooshing past!

We're not in Kansas anymore?
We rose up to 130 meters, out of the forest, and into MIDWESTERN AMERICA. Amber waves of grain everywhere. Big sky country. Traffic and the sky were both still light, so we pedaled along sans probleme. In fact, what few cars passed pulled far over into the other lane for us, and at one point, a car-full of young hooligans cheered us on as they hung out their windows, "Ca se passe bien? Bon courage!" ("Things are going alright? Good luck!").

I'm not sleeping next to a pile of dirt!
At about 10:30pm, it was too dark to keep going. Fortunately, days are long when you're this far north, and we clocked 25 kilometers our first evening before bedding down for the night near Charmont-en-Beauce.

Hilary clearly has higher standards for campsite accomodations than Joe.

First Joe said, "How about behind that hedge a few meters from the highway?"

"No."

Then, "Wait, what about lying down in that field of wheat?"

The automatic water sprinkler killed that idea.

Finally, "Let's stop at that big pile of dirt up there!"

Joe's standards for bedding areas consisted of 1) low visibility and 2) not being in the direct path of motor vehicles careening out of control. Hilary wanted at the minimum a tree she can pee behind.

Hilary suggested, "How about that copse of woods down yonder?"

Scrutinizing the horizon and seeing few other possibilities, we trecked off across a field of wheat, skirting its edge with the help of recent tire tracks. Arriving at the site 20 minutes later, we checked it out, and determined it was an uninhabited picnicking/day camp area, well-treed and well-trimmed, and completely suitable to our tastes. That evening, we dined on avocado, carrots, bread, cheese, raisins, popcorn, nuts and chocolate, and we slept under the stars.

I thought it was summer
During the night, the temperature dropped lower than we expected. We could see our breath in the beam of Hilary's headlamp, and later, we shivered in our sleeping bags designed for temperatures no lower than 10 degrees Celcius. Around about 4:30, Hilary got the bright idea of sacrificing her pillow -- her rolled up rain-jacket -- for additional leg covering, slipping it on upside down over her legs.


Day 2 - June 27
Shortly thereafter, the sky began to lighten, the birds to sing, and roosters to crow. Joe got up at 7:30am and jumped around to thaw himself out. Hilary roused herself as Joe ran out to great the horizontal sunbeams at the edge of our arboreal haven.



We stretched in the warm rays, brushed our teeth, washed our faces, and slathered on the 50+ spf, and were packed up and on the road by 8:15am. The morning was bright but surprisingly chilly. Joe waited patiently for Hilary's legs to function (might we say that Joe has been quite patient, and in turn quite surprised, by Hilary's sport-tastical performance). The way was a bit monotonous with all its rolling plains in every direction, and the traffic was heavier than the previous night.

Our first breakfast
We peeled into Bazoches-les-Gallérandes for breakfast at the one bakery in town. Crossing the street in front of the bakery, we struck up a conversation with 84-year-old André, who had his baguette in one hand and his bike handles in the other. We chatted a bit, and he advised us that the weather should be nice for the entire week (he was right!), then sent us off with a "Bon courage!" Inside, the baker recommended going to market on Saturday to stock up on food for our travels. In the park next to the church, we put away the loaf of bread we'd just bought, a nectarine, nuts and raisins, then filled our water bottles at the surprisingly clean public toilets ("Those were excellent!" says Joe).


Highways - a biker's worst enemy
Back on the highway, we were forced to concentrate on traffic and not dying, the traffic getting heavier and heavier as we approached Orléans. Cars passed closer now, sometimes not making any effort to avoid sideswiping us. It was here, too, that Hilary learned that her rear gears were not up to speed, and would need recalibrating soon. Not a good thing to learn on a busy highway!

Stopping in St-Lyé-la-Forêt, we rested our bruised bottoms and stretched our legs with the help of the church:


Okay, so we were being a bit silly as well.

Joe and Hilary's Sights Unseen of the Loire Valley
We saw on the map "Chateau de la Motte" nearby, so we set off to find it. At first we looked for it far off in the distance from where we stood at the edge of town. Then we realized that the scale of our map was in fact much larger than we had realized.

"Is that it?" We looked skeptically at a three-storied rambling brick structure. Unsure, we asked a greasy-looking man, and he directed us 200 meters up the road.

"Oh," feeling a bit sheepish, we weren't sure whether he was flattered by our mistaking his oversized carriage house for a château or simply disgusted at us as tourists.

The château itself, hidden behind some trees, was about the size of an American McMansion, and was appropriately accompanied by a Range Rover out front.

One thing we've learned on our trip is that there are a lot of things called "La Motte" in rural France. What the heck is a motte??


Where are the orks?
Leaving St-Lyé (pop. 1000), the Forêt d'Orléans stretched out in front of us like a green wall. We kept expecting hobbits and orks clad in full battle gear to burst from the trees and slaughter everyone on in sight. We were fortunate to reach the forest when we did, because noon was fast on our backs, burning.


Ta-Da!
And suddenly, we were in Orléans! In just a morning's cycle, we had reached our first city!


After searching for a small market, grocery store, anything-at-all-that-would-sell-food! for an hour, we finally broke down and went to Carrefour (shudder!), grumpiness, heat, and low-blood sugar putting us on edge, then biked down to the river to feast and write until the midday heat had passed.


(We have to say that, despite having to go to a Carrefour and its mall, at least it was in the middle of the city where it could be accessed by foot. Since then, we have found ourselves in the middle of a city or town with no grocery store, and had to set off miles into the countryside to find a store surrounded by hectares of parking lot and guarded by autoroutes where we could stock up on provisions)

D'oh!
At Orléans, we stumbled up on the Loire à Vélo bike path. Why didn't we know about this before? This is a lovely network of bike paths and back roads specifically designed to guide bikers such as ourselves up and down the beautiful river, through towns and nature, and past châteaux. Mounting our bikes, we sailed down the riverbank...but sadly our path soon gave way to poorly kept city sidewalks. Joe grudgingly agreed to Hilary's persuasive tactics to go down one gravel or dirt road after the other (ouch! bad for road bikes!), against his better judgment, in an effort to stay near the river's edge and off the main highways. We were both pleasantly surprised by the scenery, forests lining the river, swans, terns, and the views from atop the levee that we stumbled upon. From time to time, a mansion or château popped out into view.


Are you sure this is a biking trail?
A few times, we were tricked into going down hiking trails and left to fend for ourselves as bikable surface gave way to straight up wilderness. On one occasion we discovered we were down on the river side of the levee when the path got too difficult to follow. Dragging our heavy bikes-turned-luggage racks, we scrambled up the levee through bushes and weeds, some of which were quite prickly! Heave!

Our route along the Loire treated us to many picturesque towns and sights, the first of which was Meung-sur-Loire. Given its none-too-charming name (mung beans?), we were very impressed by the cobblestone pedestrian streets and quaint bridges over branches of the Mauve River.


Ooo, pretty.

So enchanted were we that we didn't realize it was 19h30. In Paris, as in the States, nothing closes until around 9pm. Not so in Meung, which we crisscrossed frantically in search of a grocery store for dinner. Not only were the stores all perched atop hills, they were all closed.

Much to our childlike glee, we found a woman selling raspberries at her driveway which she assured us were from her yard and "cuellies toute à l'heure." (gathered just a little while ago). We ate a tub each.

From Meung we proceeded along the Loire's bank, and got lost in a maze of mosquito-infested back woods ("Look! There's a red X on that tree!"). Luckily, we popped out into a riverside park (where we stopped for a picnic dinner of our lunch leftovers, minus an avocado that had disappeared through a hole in Joe's bag. We were sad.)

We found toilets, fresh water, and a freshly cut hay-field where we could lay our sleepy-heads.


Lessons learned:
- an X on a tree along a trail means "wrong way!"
- grocery shopping outside Paris must be started before 7pm
- do not pass by a store when you need to buy groceries, as later you'll have to go uphill to get back to it!

Distance traveled (8:15am - 9 pm): 65 km
Money spent:
- bread 1.20
- second loaf of bread: 1.80
- groceries 9.60
- maps 10.10
- raspberries 6.00
Total: 28.70

Next...morning photos of Hilary and Joe, our 5000 calories per day diet, and adventures!