Le Cycling Day 6 // Nevers to Chatillon Sur Loire

I’m happy to report that my butt was feeling better today. So much so that I was able to smash my 85km ride in just over 4 and a half hours. Damn! The path followed the Loire river, which runs from just north of Montpellier to the sea just west of Nantes. 

   
   
By coincidence I had chosen the right day to go to Chatillon, as currently the town was celebrating Comice Agricole, a harvest celebration which happens over this weekend once every 6 years. The villiage is decorated and is alive with people from all over the area. 

My host Pierre explained this all to me as we headed to a backyard concert in the grounds of his mother in laws huge house. Day turned to night, with music and laughter – the local brass band were pretty good too. 

   
    
    
    
 

Approx total distance – 390km (6 days)

Cycling pt 2-5 // Land of the Round White Cheese

 I had a classic, sickly sweet Dutch breakfast with Judith talking bike events before getting on the road by 9.30. I left Chalon and got on a canal path which I would following for the next on few days. 
I rode 70km, passing tiny villages, bushy forest and numerous pleasure barges, some of which looked like 5-star hotels on the inside. I arrive in my next destination by mid afternoon, a town called Montceau-les-Mines. It was a grubby wee former mining town. Grubby in comparison to the other French towns I had been in recently. 
But I’m glad I stuck around because staying with German girl Ricarda painted a very positive picture of the small town. We met outside the town hall and we dropped the bike (named Petit by Yoel, and shall now be referred to as such) off at her apartment and walked to the supermarket to gather supplies. Naturally I couldn’t help myself and I took over and cooked some lovely food. 
We spent the evening talking about exciting travel plans, as she was only 19 and this was her first time away from home she had been struck with the lust for adventure during her professional exchange in the town, and couldn’t wait to embark on her own adventure once her time here was up. 

            
I slept pretty well and as Ricarda had work at 9 we were up and out pretty early. 
I had a fairly leisurely 45km ride today so I took it pretty easy, following still the canal along the eurovelo 6. I was at my next destination by just over midday. This was a beautiful town called Paray-le-Monial. The town was bathing beautiful in warm sunlight and the place was buzzing with families and children’s holiday activities in the nearby park. 
I explored the quiet, narrow streets for a while before going and lying in the park and dozing in the warm sun for a while. Around 4pm I went and booked myself into a nice camping ground on the other side of town and went about setting up camp, eating some dinner and generally putting my feet up, along with a cold dip in the pool once all the children had gone to soothe my aching leg muscles. 

         
I was asleep in my tent by probably 9.30pm, and woke around 7.30. I packed up all my gear with more ease than I had anticipated and got on the road to Decize, some 70km away. I feel like I took a wrong turn at some stage as it took me a lot longer to get there that I anticipated, and despite the markings I feel like I left Eurovelo 6. However this was no bother, as the ride was perfectly pleasant, with more varied terrain and weather today. 
Decize is a lovely little town on an island at a junctions between several rivers, one of which is the Loire, which I’ll be following for a while. I had a look around before heading to Claire’s house. 
Claire teaches blind children during term time and for the last 17 years has helped organise a dance festival in the summer, which is on at the moment. She had just returned from another day of the festival and we are together and talked very slowly about this that and the other. I was rooted and as my clock seems to be at normal person hours for the first time in probably 15 years, I retired around 11pm. 

                        
I had breakfast with Claire and got on the road. I only had a short ride down the Loire today, some 40km. I think I am getting a little slower each day, mainly I think because my bum is getting sore. But no matter – no pain no gain. 
I arrive in Nevers by 2pm and had a look around before meeting Mathilde and her friend Alex who I stayed with. We had tea and got to know each other before going to look at the embalmed remains of St Bernadette who saw the Virgin Mary in Lourdes, she was looking pretty good! 
We explored the streets before going and preparing yummy Chinese food back at Mathildes house, how I had missed delicious Chinese food!
We went to a pub for a beer in the warm evening air and went back home where I prepared for tomorrow.  

                
A big ride to Châtillon-sur-Loire tomorrow. Running total (approx) 300km – 5 days

Le Cycling pt 1 // Lons-le-Saunier to Chalon-sur-Saône

Today I departed Yoel and Miai’s and started a cycling adventure, my first in two years. I am a lot more prepared this time, as Yoel knows his bikes and knows his tours. So he had packed me everything I could need from spare tubes, a decent tool kit, a tent, bags, the works. It’s a long way from balancing and strapping my pack to the back of the bike and using my raincoat as a waterproofer. 

The path from Lons to Chalon was about 60km and ran prodominantly along an old railroad which has since been turned into a cycle path. This accounted for about 2/3 of the ride with the rest made up of very quiet country roads. 

It was a relatively cool day, with the occasional drops of rail and sunshine. The environment was mostly rolling farmland of grass for bails, corn or lettuce farms or forest, occasionally popping into tiny villiages. The ride took just over four hours, or one and a bit podcasts. 

Chalon was bigger than I imagined, with the Saone river running through it. There had just been a street performance festival on over the weekend, which I would have attended had I not been offered a few more nights in Lons. The last of the stinky hippies remained on the river banks where they had been camping over the last few days. 

I had a ride around the city and a sit down before I went to my hosts for the evening. A Dutch woman called Judith who lives in an inner city town house who was most welcoming. She works for a cycling organisation who’s aim is to get 10% of France cycling by 2020. We had much to talk about over a few glasses on wine. I then made soup for everyone, which was too hot for her 15 and 12 year olds – my bad. 

   
    
    
    
    
 I’m very sleepy after an active day, tomorrow a get on the Eurovelo 6 – a cycle path which stretches from the British channel to the Black Sea. I won’t be going that far but I’ll be enjoying some of it. 

Long story short…

So I left Milan the next day, got on a series of buses for 17 hours all the way to Split, during which time I had managed to convince myself that that was not the right decision. When I got off the bus at 5.30am in Croatia I was met my hoards so sweaty, drunk Australians – many wearing Australian flags as capes disembarking from their drunken party boats. On top of that, the pal I thought I was meeting had flaked. 

So I wandered around for the day, taking in all I could while beating myself up for coming all that way for nothing. My adventurous spirit had escaped me yet again and I could think of nothing better than to return to Yoel and Miais to, once again, recalibrate and start again. Fortunately I found a very cheap flight back to Geneva the next day, and as it was a Saturday in an extremely touristy city, the plane ticket didn’t cost much more than the cheapest hostel in Split that night. 

So once I had made that decision I was able to enjoy the day that I had in split. On my way out I met a nice guy from Bristol who, like me, was a bit bemused by the fact that the express airport bus stopped at 8pm, but we had both read that their was a local bus which we were able to find our way too, while bitching about how horrible party destinations are. He had never spent the night in an airport before so he was in the right company, this being the 3rd night out of the last 4 that I had not slept in a conventional bed. 

   
    
   
I slept very well on the marble windowsill on the second story of the small airport, and by 10am I had double backed on myself to Geneva, where I spent the afternoon wandering the pleasant streets. As I was feeling a little bit cash stressed and having forgotten that they don’t use the Euro in Switzerland I went willingly hungry for most of the day. But that didn’t prevent my from painting and enjoying the city. In fact sitting on a bench by the lake I was joined by a tibettian man, his wife and young daughter, who shared their snacks with me, totally oblivious of my fast. He had been the Dalai Lama’s representative to Switzerland for 15 years before retiring and staying in a Geneva. 

   
    
 I got a bus at 4 back to Yoel and Miai’s in Lons, who had opened their home to me after receiving my destressed and possibly nonscensical message the previous day. Of anyone, they understand the lethargy that comes from travel. 

So I stayed with them for over a week. I had never intended it to be that long, but my stay was extended several times by Yoel and Miai, either because they didn’t want me to feel rushed or because my willingness to prepare food without any prompting was something two young parents could get used to. 

I wasn’t the only visitor though, when I arrived Miai’s childhood friend Carmen was visiting from Argentina. We shared many Maté together and helped with baby Isea, chores and went on bike rides in the country. 

Miai’s mother was also to visit just as i was about to leave, but my stay got extended again so I got a few days with her as well. 

It was a very relaxing week, which was just what a needed. I was again camping in the back garden and spend days, eating, painting, swimming, planning, playing board games and getting my hair cut by Miai. It was a very pleasant time and I am very grateful to have such hospitable and loving pals so eager to support me during my freakouts. 

Yoel and I had talked about me going cycling for a few weeks, so he dusted off the bike that had taken him from France to india, tuned it up and put some bags on it – a far cry from the thrown together setup I had this time two years ago. 

   
    
    
    
    
   
So that was my next move, a few weeks of cycling around middle France before heading to Rome for a small town Italian family time. 

Adventure continues // France & Italy

Richard and I left the company of John and spent another day in Cork. We explored some of the outer residential areas. We spent the evening with a guy called Gearoid Power who we had met at the hostel in Belfast. We had dinner with him and his mother and spend the evening watching docos and reading comics. We went the bed later than intended and i woke up only a few hours later. 
We had some breakfast with Gearoids mum and said goodbye to the two of them. I was off to the bus station from where I caught a bus back to Dublin, which began my nearly 12 hour journey to Paris. 
It had been almost two years to the month since the first time I was in France, and two years since I had seen Fleur Pinson. Dedicated readers may recall that Fluer hosted me during my last visit to Paris, which was a spur of the moment decision brought on by quickly fading enthusiasm for my cycle journey. 
I arrived into Paris at 10pm and was immediately struck by a sudden change in temperature. FINALLY summer had arrived. I had discovered some days before that my €29 Ryanair flight from Dublin to Paris did in fact land me in Beauvias, a city an hour north of Paris with an airport deceptively names Paris Beauvias. A €15 bus solved this hiccup – still a cheap flight all in all. 
Once in Paris I navigated my way across town on the underground to Crimée in north east Paris and was very happy to see Fleur again. In the two years since we had seen each other she had not only continued her path as a successful freelance graphic designer but had made a trip to New Zealand – and I had been able to set her up with some people along the way. We had a quick catch up before we went to sleep as it was now quite late. 
The next morning we shared breakfast together before she went off to her studio. I took some time to freshen my bag and myself, trimming a significant amount of my year and a half beard from my face. 
Having visited Paris before I didn’t feel the need to go back to the main hot spots, so I enjoyed a quiet day exploring the area around Fleurs house. I spent a few hours sitting in the sun in Parc des Buttes-Chaumont painting and people watching. Between painting, walking and enjoying the sun the day didn’t evolve much else. Fleur returned home later in the evening and we had some food and gassed for the rest of the evening until much later on. 

            
After a few hours sleep I got up at 6am and made my way across town to catch a 7am bus to Lons le Saunier, a small town to the south east, closest to Geneva. This town is the home of Yoel and Maia. 
Yoel is a Frenchman and former Huskisson resident who has just had a baby with his Argentinian partner Maia. This weekend a dozen or so former Huskies and associated friends are descending on the huge chateau which they share with Yoel’s parents. They have separate living quarters which they had built while Maia was pregnant. 
The house is huge, with one main living floor, a two story high attic (originally for drying hay) and a basement level, which includes a lower level wine cellar and a 200 year old, car sized wine press. 
I was picked up at the bus station by Sonia, Gareth, Sylvia and Stef. It felt like no time at all since I had last seen them and we picked up where we left off. They took me back to the house where greeted by the rest of the team, with a few more people to arrive by evening. 
We had some lunch and were given a tour of the property which had several lovely vegetable gardens, a series of tents down the back of the garden and a lovely patio area with a large swimming pool. 
The day revolved around food, beer and tomfoolery in the pool in the scorching sunshine until the late evening. 

          
The next morning Stef and I had instigated a 5am wake up call to drive out to a local lake and watch the sunrise which navigating the lake on Stef’s inflatable stand up paddle board. But 8am we had already done what some would consider a whole days worth of activity. We drove back to the village and stopped in town to grab some croissant from the boulangerie after a gentle walk around. 
The remainder of the group was still in bed by the time we got back by 9am, so we jumped in the pool. 
In the afternoon we all jumped in two cars and drove out to watch the Tour de France, which is on currently. We drove for half an hour or so to a spot where all the cyclists would be turning a 90 degree corner. The place was choca-block with people and we managed the weasel our way forward to a good vantage point. We only waited about 20 minutes until the started whizzing past, and after them the motor bikes with camera men, followed by the branded cars with a dozen very expensive racing bikes on top, and multiple helicopters over top. And as quickly as it had started, it was over. It was a very cool thing to witness. 
We hopped back in our cars and made our way to another lake which was full of people. Water was cool, but refreshing. We swam out into the deep water and had goes of Stef paddle board, this time I fell off and unfortunately lost my glasses in the depths of the lake. Fortunately I am a sensible short sighted man who carries a spare, so no bother. 
We returned home and lay about, turning to books, games, drawing, painting and babysitting. The rest of the second evening went this way, with food and giggles until dark. The second night. 

                        
On the third day, the second morning, Stef and I rose at 7am and went for a wee walk up the road through some fields nearby. On returning we got in the car and went to the village to find some croissants. The town was very quiet on sunday morning, but fortunately we found a boulangerie to suit our needs. Back at the house, only Yoel and baby Iseo were awake. Stef, Gareth and Silvia departed back to the UK, leaving 12 of us.
The next few days rolled by in a similar fashion, revolving around the pool, games, beers, baby minding and food (mostly orchestrated by me). We had some very dramatic thunder and lightening storms roll over from Sunday evening through Monday. Most of our tents either flooded or collapsed, so there was a mad rush to salvage all the bags that we could at the start and set up camp inside. 
I spent the next few nights sleeping in the attic, which being designed for drying hay, was suitably warm. I took a solo cycle through the country side late one evening in the cool twilight glow which was very pleasant, and provided some hard to find alone time. 

          
Wednesday came quicker than we wished, as life here has been just too good. But all good things must come to an end. I had decided to head east toward Croatia, not only for Schegan refuge but I also have several pals rolling through the area with which to hang. I had set myself the challenge of making the 1200km journey in three days by hitchhiking. 
The rest of the team were flying out of Geneva in the afternoon so I got a lift with Yoel’s parents via Geneva airport to Chamonix, the town at the mouth of the Mt Blanc tunnel through the alps. Yoels parents were kind enough to take me right to the mouth of the tunnel, in the middle of the alps and at the base of a great glacier. 

          
I waited for an hour as hundreds of cars past by, and eventually was picked up but two Turkish guys on their way back to Turin, where one was studying. 
We rode to Ivrea, where the road split to go to Turin in one direction and Milan in the other. I foolishly thought it would be a better idea to get out here rather than ride the extra half an hour to Turin and keep going from there. Foolish it was because the next car to pick me up half an hour later was the police. Hitching on the highway is illegal in most places, but given where I was dropped I didn’t have much choice. 
So they took my details, searched me, gave me a slap on the wrist and drove me into nearby Ivrea. It was now too dark to try hitch to Milan so I settled in to the quiet town. This diversion turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the town was gorgeous. Unfortunately it lacked any hostels so I came to terms with a night on a bench in the railway station. 

              
I got a few hours sleep before some drunks work me up at 4am to tell me many times in broken English how to get to Milan on the train (information that actually did come in handy) and to retell the story of The Worlds Fastest Indian in mime. Had I been more awake and less worried about these friendly but potential junkies robbing me I quietly slipped away once one of them had shown me how the ticket machine worked. 
I walked through the quiet narrow streets as the sun rose, and found the main square to have a lie in for half an hour before walking back to the station to take the last leg to Milan by train. I arrived by 10am, having made all the necessary change and consumed two espressos. 

           

Coincidentally J McKay was in Milan too, so I met up with her and spent the day ambling around in the sweaty heat with her.          
   

 

Belfast and beyond

I DID hear from Richard, and now two and a half weeks have passed. Sorry for the neglect. We spent that time volunteering in Lagan Backpackers in south Belfast. We were located just around the corner from Queens University and in the heart of the student district – which was quiet as most students had vacated for the summer. 
We were two of 9 volunteers and 2 management staff – us kiwis, an Aussie, a German, an Italian, Spainard, Canadian, three French and an Irishman. We shared a room at the bottom of the 54 Bed hostel. 
Duties included a breakfast shift – preparing several variations on and including the full Irish breakfast from 8-10am, a cleaning shift – making beds and general cleaning, a night shift – being at the reception from 10pm-7am and a dinner shift – cooking a meal for the volunteers and guests that signed up. And we got a few days off a week, and duties generally only took a few hours a day. 
The rest of the time we were able to carve ourselves a wee home in the city. We found south Belfast to be most homely, and we had explored sufficiently that we could safely say it is the nicest part for us. 
We spent one of our days making our way up to Divis and the Black Mountain, the highest spot in the city from which you can see a 360 degree view of the surrounding countryside, as far as Scotland and the midlands to one side and Co. Donegal in the other. It took us 5-6 hours to get up there from the city as we were carving our own path through the suburbs and then rambling through overgrown fields, jumping fences and getting stung by nettles. Good fun and with a rewarding view! 

                    
We were also able to do the Giants Causeway tour for free as a part of our residency, so we took a day off to do that. We stopped at a few places on the way up to the Causeway, including the rope bridge which we didn’t cross as it was an additional charge, so we walked in the opposite direction along the coast away from the tourist noise. 
The causeway itself was quite something. We again walked the winding cliff paths away from the main part which was swarming with tourists and founds some nice spots with so marvellous geological specimens. 

              
The rest of the time was spent with our fellow volunteers. Birthdays came and went, problems needed solving and stories were exchanged. It was a great way to take a load off for a bit, and in a brilliant location. 

   
    
   
We left on Friday and headed back to Dublin where we stayed with Giovana and Danilo again. On Saturday I showed Richard around the same classic route I’ve done every time I’ve been in Dublin, the only not worthy addition being that we met up with Marina, who I met in Mhamid in Morocco earlier in the year. It was great to catch up with her and hear about life in Dublin.

   

  
On Sunday we travelled to Cork for a few nights. I had been there very briefly when I hitched around Ireland last year and it had made a real impression on me. We explored for a few hours on arrival and went to meet our host John at a local pub. John is a 69 year old Californian who had been living in Cork for the last 7 years. The man has lived a lot, he was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam war, had a family and had move and lived in Amsterdam and Ireland for the last few decades. He was a true character with so many stories to tell
We drank with him, some of his local chums who were our age and some fellow travellers in several pubs until quite late – including a famous lock in, wherein the bar closes but but keeps serving until late. We walked up the hill to his house around 3am and sank into slumber. 

    
The next day we got up slowly and John took us on a cycle tour of the city. John is an avid cyclist, a committee member for the Cork CycleF estival and a volunteer at the local volunteer book shop. 
He took us down the river to Blackrock castle which is now an observatory. Then we went up to the other end out town, following the River Lee back up the city through bushy pedestrian and bike paths. We snuck back into the city and to the supermarket. I had volunteered to make dinner, so we returned home with supplies and enjoyed an evening of beer, silly films and stories.

   
    
    
    
  This was Richards first true couchsurfing experience, and I think it’s really changed his perception of what you can do on the road.