My first meal in Italy was an experience to remember.
I had been headed down towards teh lowlands of Italy from the pass at Sestriere when a voice in my head said "Hold on! What are you doing? You won't get to see these mountains again any time soon. Slow down!" So I did indeed slow down, and rolled to a stop in the next village with a visible hotel (only a few minutes later).
Balma, Italy has one hotel, Hotel Lion, and no shops of any kind (that I could find, anyway). The staff at the hotel was very friendly, and when they discovered that they were dealing with an English-speaking American, they fetched a man from the kitchen to deal with me and my registration for my night's stay.
So when I appeared at the hotel's restaurant that evening after a hike up into the mountains, the waiter nervously asked if I wanted "pizzeria or restaurant". I wasn´t sure why he was asking, but it looked like they were offering a good deal on the full "menu" (10 euros for a full meal), I told him I was interested in the "restaurant". At which point he ushered me into the kitchen so I could speak directly (in English) with the chef and tell him what I wanted.
Let's just say that by the end of my meal I could barely move... After devouring most of the bread served to me, the first course (pasta) had been followed by a meat dish and salad. At this point I was full, so opted for the coffee option instead of dessert. But they gave me a free dessert to try (because I was a special guest, apparently). And I wouldn´t want to be rude...
On my second night in Italy I ended up in an "agriturismo" in Piemonte, which in short means some kind of accommodation in a home in the countryside. This one happened to be a full apartment, complete with kitchen, living room, bath, and bedroom.. all for 30 euro, which was the best price for accommodation I´d seen in some time.
At the time, I was excited about the prospect of cooking (cheap!), and headed off to the nearest grocery store... which, unfortunately, was at the top of the next hill over... and returned to my little home to cook my meal.
As I discussed with a friend in Seattle by phone the next morning, the meal wasn´t that spectacular. The first problem is that when cooking for one while travelling, it´s hard to procure small amounts of ingredients for good cooking. The second is that I´m a terrible cook.
And thus we agreed that I should not cook in Italy. The prices for meals and accommodations were more reasonable than France, after all, so I might as well enjoy the fruits of the Italians' love for cooking.
And thus began my gastronomic tour of Italian gnocchi ata rifugio, calzone at a restaurant in Cortina, pizza in Belluno, farfalle in Belluno, panini at various cafe/bars along the way, gelato in Sirmione, "toast" and scuttlefish in Venice, as well as fried potatoes, chicken, spaghetti, struedel, and those little pasta things that are like a cross between ravioli and tortellini at various points along the way.
Perhaps because they put so much effort into other meals, Italian breakfast, like breakfast in Spain and France, is pretty minimal by American standards: bread and some jam and posibly cheese.
But the kind lady at the agriturismo in Pascoli, Italy, served homemade foccacia bread and leftover dessert for breakfast. Tiramasu for breakfast: pure genius and the perfect source of energy for the hungry cyclist!
Friday, June 26, 2009
One chapter ends, another begins
For me, cycle touring is always in tension between two opposing forces: the desire to go far and the desire to stop and explore. That desire to go far propelled me rather quickly across France and Italy, which allowed the desire to see more do two days of hiking in the Dolomites. While riding across Italy I realized that I would have time to ride into Austria and thus enjoy the thrill of crossing yet another border on two wheels.
Yesterday that vision became a reality... and thus concludes my self-ropelled jorney through Europe.
Over the last week or two I had really been looking forward to this moment. Every time my butt ached (which lately has been happening after just an hour after riding or any time I sit on a hard chair) and on every busy road and after tallying each day´s progress, Austria grew nearer. The days ticked by and my deadline to meet my mother in Prague approached.
But now that I´m in the beautiful Tyrolean town of Lienz (home to myriad sporting activities both in summer and winter), the sun is shining, everyone´s on a bike, adn I´m a little sad to be getting on a train today.
Over the last several days, mostly cloudy, my cyclist tan-lines (on my legs, wrists, and fingers) have already started to fade, and, sadly, I suppose that my fitness will fade as well over the weeks to come. When strangers ask me where I've biked from, I'll no longer be able to say "I biked here from Spain". I´ll no longer get the rock-star parking at the tourist attractions I happen upon on way from here to there or sing to the cows as I roll down quiet country roads. Nor will I have my now-regular daily routine of a cycle tourist.
My remaining 3 weeks here in Europe are mostly booked now, with rail journeys and car trips and sightseeing and visits to friends. I´ve been looking forward to this section of the trip and I know it will be great in its own way, but the last 4 weeks have been something special that I´ll never forget. I´ve met some great people who I hope to stay in touch with... and I´m already thinking about future bike trips that I´d like to do.
Thank you, Europe, for a great bike trip!
Yesterday that vision became a reality... and thus concludes my self-ropelled jorney through Europe.
Over the last week or two I had really been looking forward to this moment. Every time my butt ached (which lately has been happening after just an hour after riding or any time I sit on a hard chair) and on every busy road and after tallying each day´s progress, Austria grew nearer. The days ticked by and my deadline to meet my mother in Prague approached.
But now that I´m in the beautiful Tyrolean town of Lienz (home to myriad sporting activities both in summer and winter), the sun is shining, everyone´s on a bike, adn I´m a little sad to be getting on a train today.
Over the last several days, mostly cloudy, my cyclist tan-lines (on my legs, wrists, and fingers) have already started to fade, and, sadly, I suppose that my fitness will fade as well over the weeks to come. When strangers ask me where I've biked from, I'll no longer be able to say "I biked here from Spain". I´ll no longer get the rock-star parking at the tourist attractions I happen upon on way from here to there or sing to the cows as I roll down quiet country roads. Nor will I have my now-regular daily routine of a cycle tourist.
My remaining 3 weeks here in Europe are mostly booked now, with rail journeys and car trips and sightseeing and visits to friends. I´ve been looking forward to this section of the trip and I know it will be great in its own way, but the last 4 weeks have been something special that I´ll never forget. I´ve met some great people who I hope to stay in touch with... and I´m already thinking about future bike trips that I´d like to do.
Thank you, Europe, for a great bike trip!
Saturday, June 20, 2009
All the way to Venice...
I was looking through my notes the other night and noticed that a few weeks ago I estimated arriving in Venice around June 25. And here I am, almost a week early: I arrived in a town just outside Venice yesterday afternoon (June 19).
Since the only road to Venice is a major highway, I opted to stay at a campground (which is cheap) here and take the bus into Venice yesterday and today to explore.
In short, Venice is amazing. It's quite a sight to see buildings built right to the edge of the water, and the maze of streets is fun to navigate, as long as you don't have a specific destination in mind or a tight schedule to follow.
In the last week I've taken a pretty direct route across the north of Italy. On the bright side, I've had relatively easy (flat) cycling and gotten to spend some time in beautiful cities. The down side of this is that the area is full of busy roads which are pretty stressful for cycling. There are country roads, some of them fairly quiet, but they tend to be poorly signed and can result in lots of wrong turns and extra miles.
I've compromised by sometimes cycling on pretty busy roads (even smaller freeways, at times), and then navigating the smaller roads when I get tired of that. Yesterday I had some beautiful cycling through a regional park south of Padua.
I've found that even the smaller towns I've passed through have had some amazing cathedrals. For example, the other night I spent the night in Lonigo, and found their cathedral pretty amazing. (It was constructed to give thanks for the end of a cholera epidemic at the end of the 19th century). But the town was small enough that the man at the local bar/cafe spent plenty of time helping me figure out what to have for dessert!
One of my favorite things about my trip across the north of Italy has been stopping for coffee in bar-cafes along the way in smaller towns. Most people, even who don't speak a word of English, have been asking me about my trip (since it's obvious that I'm travelling by bike). Now that I've travelled over 2000 miles, it's fun to tell them where I've been!
Time to catch the bus into Venice. Arrivederci!
Since the only road to Venice is a major highway, I opted to stay at a campground (which is cheap) here and take the bus into Venice yesterday and today to explore.
In short, Venice is amazing. It's quite a sight to see buildings built right to the edge of the water, and the maze of streets is fun to navigate, as long as you don't have a specific destination in mind or a tight schedule to follow.
In the last week I've taken a pretty direct route across the north of Italy. On the bright side, I've had relatively easy (flat) cycling and gotten to spend some time in beautiful cities. The down side of this is that the area is full of busy roads which are pretty stressful for cycling. There are country roads, some of them fairly quiet, but they tend to be poorly signed and can result in lots of wrong turns and extra miles.
I've compromised by sometimes cycling on pretty busy roads (even smaller freeways, at times), and then navigating the smaller roads when I get tired of that. Yesterday I had some beautiful cycling through a regional park south of Padua.
I've found that even the smaller towns I've passed through have had some amazing cathedrals. For example, the other night I spent the night in Lonigo, and found their cathedral pretty amazing. (It was constructed to give thanks for the end of a cholera epidemic at the end of the 19th century). But the town was small enough that the man at the local bar/cafe spent plenty of time helping me figure out what to have for dessert!
One of my favorite things about my trip across the north of Italy has been stopping for coffee in bar-cafes along the way in smaller towns. Most people, even who don't speak a word of English, have been asking me about my trip (since it's obvious that I'm travelling by bike). Now that I've travelled over 2000 miles, it's fun to tell them where I've been!
Time to catch the bus into Venice. Arrivederci!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Score another one for the Excel bike kit!
Today I put on my clean jersey and shorts (i.e. the ones that I didn't wear yesterday) and headed up to the Col du Galibier to watch the Dauphine Libere (again).
Imagine my surprise when a guy - in Byrne Specialty Gasses vest (a team that I used to race with) - called out "An Excel jersey! Are you from Seattle?"
Yup, I just made a new friend Lee - from Seattle - in the French Alps. It turns out that he knows people that I know, such as Tom Wick and Glenn Bunselmeyer. Yes, it's a small world.
Kind of like when I met a couple (Meredith and John Whipple) in Vielha, Spain. They had been bike touring in Portugal, France, and Spain, and live in Chicago. It turns out that they lived in Seattle for a few years, and when I mentioned that I worked at Microsoft for 8 years, they asked if I knew a guy named Ermano.
Yes, yes I do. The cycling community in Seattle is just that small, I suppose.
Imagine my surprise when a guy - in Byrne Specialty Gasses vest (a team that I used to race with) - called out "An Excel jersey! Are you from Seattle?"
Yup, I just made a new friend Lee - from Seattle - in the French Alps. It turns out that he knows people that I know, such as Tom Wick and Glenn Bunselmeyer. Yes, it's a small world.
Kind of like when I met a couple (Meredith and John Whipple) in Vielha, Spain. They had been bike touring in Portugal, France, and Spain, and live in Chicago. It turns out that they lived in Seattle for a few years, and when I mentioned that I worked at Microsoft for 8 years, they asked if I knew a guy named Ermano.
Yes, yes I do. The cycling community in Seattle is just that small, I suppose.
Sometimes things just work out... (or, How to ride an alpine climb)
The night before last I was looking for a place to stay and reached a crossroads; to the right, the most direct route to Italy (the next place on my itinerary); to the left, the high alps and a less direct route to Italy. I chose the right; it looked to be the easier path, and where I would more likely find a place to stay without dying of heat exhaustion. (I swear the sun is at its hottest at 6 p.m. around here...)
As luck would have it, there was, just a hundred meters from that junction, a campground with "chalets" available (actually tiny little cabins that are little more than bedrooms with a stove; I could barely walk between the bed and the wall), but it suited me perfectly, and, most importantly, was available. There had been no room "at the inn", so to speak, at the town that I had just passed.
And thus began a chain of coincidences that led to a spectacular day.
In the "chalet" I found a pamphlet (in English! what are the chances?) about road biking and mountain biking in the Haute Alps, the area just to the north that I had decided to ride around. It included a basic map and described some of the bike routes. (No pictures, mind you, but the altitude of the passes gave me an idea of what it might look like). The map also pointed out the 5 passes that were the "high eagle passes"; apparently you could get some kind of reward from the tourist office in Briancon if you biked up all of these passes within 7 days.
And there's nothing that gets me excited like the idea of a challenge.
However, I didn't intend to climb all of those passes. But it, along with another few passes that were highlighted in the pamphlet, convinced me that I should see more of the Alps (I had already caught a few glimpses during the day's ride) before heading over to Italy. So I charted a more northerly course that would take me over a 2700+ m pass and called it a night.
The next day I went back to that junction, starting out at a mellow pace that was dictated by a rather stiff climb up alongside the nearest lake as much as my desire to save my energy for the big climb later in the day. This stunning lake is a product of the damming of the Durance, a river I have crossed several times on my trip. I reflected on my previous day's decision to forego watching the Dauphine Libere go up the Mont Ventoux. In hindsight, I wished I had stayed around Sault for an extra day to watch the racers. When would I next have a chance to watch a professional bike race in Europe? It might be years... or decades!
After a few hours of good riding, as I was approaching the town of Guillestre, I saw a road information sign. One concern that I had was that there was the possibility that the pass I was going to climb would still be closed due to snow, unlikely though this seemed in mid-June.
It took me a few minutes to figure out what the electronic road information sign was saying as it rotated through its three messages. I couldn't believe my eyes, so I read again. What luck! The road in Guillestre would be closing soon... because the Dauphine Libere race would be arriving there! And then the race would head up the Col d'Izouard...
A few minutes later I spotted another sign, listing the passes in the area. They were all open... except for the Col du Agnol... the one I had been planning on tackling for the day!
At Guillestre, I decided to stop and have some lunch and ponder. It seemed that I had 3 options: first, to try to get over the pass that had planned on, despite the snow, perhaps after waiting in Guillestre to see the race go by; second, to take the shortcut around the Col d'Izouard to the finish line to try to beat the pros there; or third, to try to get at least partway up the climb to the Col d'Izouard and watch the pros there.
At this point I should mention that watching a pro bike race on a climb is the ideal location; instead of seeing the entire peloton whiz by in a few seconds, the group tends to spread out, sometimes separated by minutes... or a dozen minutes. On serpentine alpine roads, you can see the riders approaching from below. It's a great opportunity for photos and for picking out your favorite rider.
And thus, I chose the third option.
For the first dozen or so kilometers of gentle climbing through an amazing river gorge, I saw just a few spectators. But once the real climbing up the windy switchbacks began, I saw the caravans and cars parked alongside the road. They had been parked there for hours, since before the road closed, waiting for a chance to see the racers. Some of them supported a specific team, rider, or country; some had signs from various races that they had gone to watch posted on their caravan. Flags from France, Belgium, and Italy were flown with pride. The most unusual form of fan-dom I saw was the man who had done large paintings of various professional racers, many of them signed by the racers themselves.
A few other amateur riders, wanting to watch some of the action like me, passed me along the way. With my baggage and relatively heavy bike, I was surely the slowest rider on the road that day. But here's the thing: since I was one of the last people up the road before the pro racers, the spectators were excited to have someone to cheer for! I got many "bravo"'s... and other words of encouragement (I think) that I couldn't necessarily translate.
But it gets better: the spectators weren't the only ones bored with waiting.
I knew that at some point I would need to get off the road to let the professionals pass by. I thought, but wasn't sure, that I had read at my lunch stop, that the pro's were expected to reach the top around 4 p.m., but I didn't know when spectators like myself would need to shove off to the side of the road for them. Would I need to get off the road at 2? 3? I expected any one of the dozens of gendarmes that I passed along the way to tell me to pull over.
So when a motorcycle approached me from behind and then started to slow down, I assumed it was a police officer... but no! It was a cameraman from a local news station. Bonjour! I greeted him...
When he responded with a question in French and I made clear that I had no idea what he was saying he asked in English "Is it hard?"
"Yes! It's very steep!"
I went on to explain that I was making a big bike trip across Europe and told him I was from Seattle in the United States. It was my first ever TV interview, and my first interview of any kind while riding a bike! After a few more seconds of him filming me suffering up the climb, he zoomed off. So who knows, I may have been on the local French news last night!
Two other great things about riding the Col d'Izouard the day of a race were that the road was mostly clear of traffic, and towards the end, it was very clear how much further I had to ride. Even I could translate the French for "one kilometer" and there were signs for the race indicating 500 m and 200 m to go.
At last! I reached the summit, just 20 minutes before the pros were anticipated to arrive. I took some pictures, parked my bike (I figured that locking it wouldn't be necessary considering the number of police officers that were hanging around), and found a good place to settle down.
A few rounds of goat cheese and crackers later, anticipation was high. I thought I heard "5 minutes"... and indeed, just a few minutes later, the lead cars arrived, followed by a pack of 4 riders. And then a few more riders, and more... and then a whole crew of them... and then a few more... sometimes there were so many riders that they took up the whole road and I, camera to my eye, almost got in their way.
Eventually, after 15 minutes or less, the "Fin de Course" truck drove by... and it was over.
People who had been camped out for hours quickly jumped in their vehicles and onto their bikes, men started deflating the finish-of-climb markers, and we were off. By "we", I mean the cyclists, for we enjoyed about 20 minutes of glorious car-free descending before the cars were allowed on the road.
What a day! I even managed to find a cheap hotel in the town of Briancon, where the teams and officials were staying the night, since the next stage started here this morning. My hotel was home to about 25 French motorcycle police officers for the night (and at least a few race officials). Scattered throughout the town were team busses, trucks and cars. It was exciting to be in the middle of it all!
And it all started with the luck of finding that pamphlet...
As luck would have it, there was, just a hundred meters from that junction, a campground with "chalets" available (actually tiny little cabins that are little more than bedrooms with a stove; I could barely walk between the bed and the wall), but it suited me perfectly, and, most importantly, was available. There had been no room "at the inn", so to speak, at the town that I had just passed.
And thus began a chain of coincidences that led to a spectacular day.
In the "chalet" I found a pamphlet (in English! what are the chances?) about road biking and mountain biking in the Haute Alps, the area just to the north that I had decided to ride around. It included a basic map and described some of the bike routes. (No pictures, mind you, but the altitude of the passes gave me an idea of what it might look like). The map also pointed out the 5 passes that were the "high eagle passes"; apparently you could get some kind of reward from the tourist office in Briancon if you biked up all of these passes within 7 days.
And there's nothing that gets me excited like the idea of a challenge.
However, I didn't intend to climb all of those passes. But it, along with another few passes that were highlighted in the pamphlet, convinced me that I should see more of the Alps (I had already caught a few glimpses during the day's ride) before heading over to Italy. So I charted a more northerly course that would take me over a 2700+ m pass and called it a night.
The next day I went back to that junction, starting out at a mellow pace that was dictated by a rather stiff climb up alongside the nearest lake as much as my desire to save my energy for the big climb later in the day. This stunning lake is a product of the damming of the Durance, a river I have crossed several times on my trip. I reflected on my previous day's decision to forego watching the Dauphine Libere go up the Mont Ventoux. In hindsight, I wished I had stayed around Sault for an extra day to watch the racers. When would I next have a chance to watch a professional bike race in Europe? It might be years... or decades!
After a few hours of good riding, as I was approaching the town of Guillestre, I saw a road information sign. One concern that I had was that there was the possibility that the pass I was going to climb would still be closed due to snow, unlikely though this seemed in mid-June.
It took me a few minutes to figure out what the electronic road information sign was saying as it rotated through its three messages. I couldn't believe my eyes, so I read again. What luck! The road in Guillestre would be closing soon... because the Dauphine Libere race would be arriving there! And then the race would head up the Col d'Izouard...
A few minutes later I spotted another sign, listing the passes in the area. They were all open... except for the Col du Agnol... the one I had been planning on tackling for the day!
At Guillestre, I decided to stop and have some lunch and ponder. It seemed that I had 3 options: first, to try to get over the pass that had planned on, despite the snow, perhaps after waiting in Guillestre to see the race go by; second, to take the shortcut around the Col d'Izouard to the finish line to try to beat the pros there; or third, to try to get at least partway up the climb to the Col d'Izouard and watch the pros there.
At this point I should mention that watching a pro bike race on a climb is the ideal location; instead of seeing the entire peloton whiz by in a few seconds, the group tends to spread out, sometimes separated by minutes... or a dozen minutes. On serpentine alpine roads, you can see the riders approaching from below. It's a great opportunity for photos and for picking out your favorite rider.
And thus, I chose the third option.
For the first dozen or so kilometers of gentle climbing through an amazing river gorge, I saw just a few spectators. But once the real climbing up the windy switchbacks began, I saw the caravans and cars parked alongside the road. They had been parked there for hours, since before the road closed, waiting for a chance to see the racers. Some of them supported a specific team, rider, or country; some had signs from various races that they had gone to watch posted on their caravan. Flags from France, Belgium, and Italy were flown with pride. The most unusual form of fan-dom I saw was the man who had done large paintings of various professional racers, many of them signed by the racers themselves.
A few other amateur riders, wanting to watch some of the action like me, passed me along the way. With my baggage and relatively heavy bike, I was surely the slowest rider on the road that day. But here's the thing: since I was one of the last people up the road before the pro racers, the spectators were excited to have someone to cheer for! I got many "bravo"'s... and other words of encouragement (I think) that I couldn't necessarily translate.
But it gets better: the spectators weren't the only ones bored with waiting.
I knew that at some point I would need to get off the road to let the professionals pass by. I thought, but wasn't sure, that I had read at my lunch stop, that the pro's were expected to reach the top around 4 p.m., but I didn't know when spectators like myself would need to shove off to the side of the road for them. Would I need to get off the road at 2? 3? I expected any one of the dozens of gendarmes that I passed along the way to tell me to pull over.
So when a motorcycle approached me from behind and then started to slow down, I assumed it was a police officer... but no! It was a cameraman from a local news station. Bonjour! I greeted him...
When he responded with a question in French and I made clear that I had no idea what he was saying he asked in English "Is it hard?"
"Yes! It's very steep!"
I went on to explain that I was making a big bike trip across Europe and told him I was from Seattle in the United States. It was my first ever TV interview, and my first interview of any kind while riding a bike! After a few more seconds of him filming me suffering up the climb, he zoomed off. So who knows, I may have been on the local French news last night!
Two other great things about riding the Col d'Izouard the day of a race were that the road was mostly clear of traffic, and towards the end, it was very clear how much further I had to ride. Even I could translate the French for "one kilometer" and there were signs for the race indicating 500 m and 200 m to go.
At last! I reached the summit, just 20 minutes before the pros were anticipated to arrive. I took some pictures, parked my bike (I figured that locking it wouldn't be necessary considering the number of police officers that were hanging around), and found a good place to settle down.
A few rounds of goat cheese and crackers later, anticipation was high. I thought I heard "5 minutes"... and indeed, just a few minutes later, the lead cars arrived, followed by a pack of 4 riders. And then a few more riders, and more... and then a whole crew of them... and then a few more... sometimes there were so many riders that they took up the whole road and I, camera to my eye, almost got in their way.
Eventually, after 15 minutes or less, the "Fin de Course" truck drove by... and it was over.
People who had been camped out for hours quickly jumped in their vehicles and onto their bikes, men started deflating the finish-of-climb markers, and we were off. By "we", I mean the cyclists, for we enjoyed about 20 minutes of glorious car-free descending before the cars were allowed on the road.
What a day! I even managed to find a cheap hotel in the town of Briancon, where the teams and officials were staying the night, since the next stage started here this morning. My hotel was home to about 25 French motorcycle police officers for the night (and at least a few race officials). Scattered throughout the town were team busses, trucks and cars. It was exciting to be in the middle of it all!
And it all started with the luck of finding that pamphlet...
Thursday, June 11, 2009
It's not that the keyboards scared me off...
I just haven't seen an open internet cafe in several days!
Greetings from Sault, best known for its lavender, porc, and proximity to Mont Ventoux, a climb that is often tackled by professional racers in the Tour de France and the Dauphine Libere... in fact, that race is heading up there today! I rode up it yesterday and was thinking about sticking around to watch the professionals ride up it today, but that would mean sitting around for an entire day (they don't arrive here until the afternoon) to watch 5 minutes of excitement.
My time in France has been more enjoyable and interesting than I had hoped! I've seen amazing caves, ancient Roman bridges, aqueducts, arenas, and amphitheatres. In Avignon I saw the former home of the pope and other beautiful bridges. In Arles and St. Remy de Provence I visited the old haunts of Van Gogh, including two hospitals where he lived.
I've seen more wineries qnd vineyards than you can count, ridden through hills that remind me of Vermont and New Hampshire, and endless cute villages filled with people walking with baguettes in their hands.
Both times that I've pulled out a map in a small French town, an old man on a bike (with bread in his panniers) has stopped to offer his assistance. (They were different old men... I think...)
Both times that I've stayed a bit outside town, my hosts have offered me a ride into town so I could get dinner (even though it was only about a mile and I obviously have a bike...)
But my favorite hosts of all, of course, were Olivier and Isabelle in the small town near the Grotte de Demoiselle (the most fantqstic caves I've seen). They're cycle tourists who visit q different country every year in their off season (January). While they were busy serving ,others day dinner to their guests, I got to look at their pictures from their New Zealand and Vietnam trips. They also charged me far less than they should have for delightful accommodations (including a kitchen and large dining area that I had all to myself).
Oddly enough, the first woman I interacted with in France (at a bakery just north of the Spanish border) was a bit unfriendly, but since then everyone has been great. OK, OK, there was also that one woman at the hotel in Chateauneuf de Pape who gave me directions to the parking lot that only made sense for a car (that is, she had me bike downhill and uphill for about a mile instead of just walking on the sidewalk for 25 meters), but I'll chalk that one up to ignorance.
Yesterday was one of the highlights of the trip... on my way into Sault I ended up riding with a Belgian cyclist (Jurgen) and he even joined me for the ride up Ventoux! (25 km and about 1100 vertical meters of climbing). He had climbed it several times in the past and had knew the route well. And then after we parted ways and I headed into my hotel, I ran into two Swiss cycle tourists who happaned to be arriving at the same time. They later invited me to join them for dinner... and as it was the first time in two weeks that I had had dinner with anyone, I didn't hesitate to accept. I had a really great time eating and chatting with them about cycling, Europe, France, America, food, and everything else. Thanks, Pieter and Beat, for a great time!
Well, the morning is already getting quite warm (it's 10 a.m.), so it's time for me to start heading towards Italy! I should be there in 2 or 3 days...
Greetings from Sault, best known for its lavender, porc, and proximity to Mont Ventoux, a climb that is often tackled by professional racers in the Tour de France and the Dauphine Libere... in fact, that race is heading up there today! I rode up it yesterday and was thinking about sticking around to watch the professionals ride up it today, but that would mean sitting around for an entire day (they don't arrive here until the afternoon) to watch 5 minutes of excitement.
My time in France has been more enjoyable and interesting than I had hoped! I've seen amazing caves, ancient Roman bridges, aqueducts, arenas, and amphitheatres. In Avignon I saw the former home of the pope and other beautiful bridges. In Arles and St. Remy de Provence I visited the old haunts of Van Gogh, including two hospitals where he lived.
I've seen more wineries qnd vineyards than you can count, ridden through hills that remind me of Vermont and New Hampshire, and endless cute villages filled with people walking with baguettes in their hands.
Both times that I've pulled out a map in a small French town, an old man on a bike (with bread in his panniers) has stopped to offer his assistance. (They were different old men... I think...)
Both times that I've stayed a bit outside town, my hosts have offered me a ride into town so I could get dinner (even though it was only about a mile and I obviously have a bike...)
But my favorite hosts of all, of course, were Olivier and Isabelle in the small town near the Grotte de Demoiselle (the most fantqstic caves I've seen). They're cycle tourists who visit q different country every year in their off season (January). While they were busy serving ,others day dinner to their guests, I got to look at their pictures from their New Zealand and Vietnam trips. They also charged me far less than they should have for delightful accommodations (including a kitchen and large dining area that I had all to myself).
Oddly enough, the first woman I interacted with in France (at a bakery just north of the Spanish border) was a bit unfriendly, but since then everyone has been great. OK, OK, there was also that one woman at the hotel in Chateauneuf de Pape who gave me directions to the parking lot that only made sense for a car (that is, she had me bike downhill and uphill for about a mile instead of just walking on the sidewalk for 25 meters), but I'll chalk that one up to ignorance.
Yesterday was one of the highlights of the trip... on my way into Sault I ended up riding with a Belgian cyclist (Jurgen) and he even joined me for the ride up Ventoux! (25 km and about 1100 vertical meters of climbing). He had climbed it several times in the past and had knew the route well. And then after we parted ways and I headed into my hotel, I ran into two Swiss cycle tourists who happaned to be arriving at the same time. They later invited me to join them for dinner... and as it was the first time in two weeks that I had had dinner with anyone, I didn't hesitate to accept. I had a really great time eating and chatting with them about cycling, Europe, France, America, food, and everything else. Thanks, Pieter and Beat, for a great time!
Well, the morning is already getting quite warm (it's 10 a.m.), so it's time for me to start heading towards Italy! I should be there in 2 or 3 days...
Friday, June 5, 2009
Yikes1 I), in Frqnce1
Yup, the keyboards here are crazy. The period requires a shift; the a and q have been switched, and the and w switched as well... as well as the m and semicolon and comma. So it takes about 5 times longer to type anything. Just when I was getting used to the Spanish keyboard! The weirdest thing is that the nu,bers all require a shift as well... And I haven't found the comma or question mark yet. But the cycling has been really beautiful so far. Now if I can just find a bathroom!
I chose a route today that isn't in the mountains. It's been a bit hilly but feels oh so much easier than the riding I was doing in Spain! Well, the road awaits!
I chose a route today that isn't in the mountains. It's been a bit hilly but feels oh so much easier than the riding I was doing in Spain! Well, the road awaits!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Pyrenees!
Let's see... a quick post since I need to get back on the bike if I'm going to cover some more kilometers today...
On Sunday I took a train to Montserrat from Barcelona, since I figured that would be a relatively easy way to navigate out of the city. It was pretty cool, but I ended up spending more time there than I anticipated (and money), but that was all right - it was nice to hike around there and explore the mountains.
That evening, after waiting out a big thunderstorm in a village with some new Spanish friends, I spent the night in a casa rural (pension) near Cordona.
On Monday I rode to La Seu, found a place to stay, and then did an out-and-back ride to check out Andorra. La Seu was a really nice town, with everything from a 12th-century cathedral to bike paths to boutique shops.
From there (Tuesday) I rode over a pretty high (5500') mountain pass to Sort, where I sorted out some food and met two British bike tourers, and then continued to Espot. At the Casa de Parq for Aiguestortes National Park I bought a good topo map and then did a late-afternoon hike up to the closest refugio. The terrain up there was just like the Enchantments in Washington!
I realized, once up there, that the refugios do serve food, so I would probably be able to stay overnight at one, even with my tiny little backpack.
So last night I stayed at a great refugio at about 8000'! There is still a good deal of snow up there, so my options for hiking were a little limited in running shoes, but I still managed to get up to a 2700m+ summit. All I brought was a light jacket, my fleece, some food for lunch, and one water bottle (0.75 l).
Today it was back on the bike and up over a 2000m+ mountain pass and into the town of Vielha, where I got some stamps and mailed some postcards. :) I'm torn between staying here for the night and trying to make some more progress on the road (I've only covered about 50 km on the bike so far today). I met my first American bike tourists today, who happen to have met a guy I know from Microsoft (yes, it's a small world!).
Sorry, no chance to post pictures yet!
On Sunday I took a train to Montserrat from Barcelona, since I figured that would be a relatively easy way to navigate out of the city. It was pretty cool, but I ended up spending more time there than I anticipated (and money), but that was all right - it was nice to hike around there and explore the mountains.
That evening, after waiting out a big thunderstorm in a village with some new Spanish friends, I spent the night in a casa rural (pension) near Cordona.
On Monday I rode to La Seu, found a place to stay, and then did an out-and-back ride to check out Andorra. La Seu was a really nice town, with everything from a 12th-century cathedral to bike paths to boutique shops.
From there (Tuesday) I rode over a pretty high (5500') mountain pass to Sort, where I sorted out some food and met two British bike tourers, and then continued to Espot. At the Casa de Parq for Aiguestortes National Park I bought a good topo map and then did a late-afternoon hike up to the closest refugio. The terrain up there was just like the Enchantments in Washington!
I realized, once up there, that the refugios do serve food, so I would probably be able to stay overnight at one, even with my tiny little backpack.
So last night I stayed at a great refugio at about 8000'! There is still a good deal of snow up there, so my options for hiking were a little limited in running shoes, but I still managed to get up to a 2700m+ summit. All I brought was a light jacket, my fleece, some food for lunch, and one water bottle (0.75 l).
Today it was back on the bike and up over a 2000m+ mountain pass and into the town of Vielha, where I got some stamps and mailed some postcards. :) I'm torn between staying here for the night and trying to make some more progress on the road (I've only covered about 50 km on the bike so far today). I met my first American bike tourists today, who happen to have met a guy I know from Microsoft (yes, it's a small world!).
Sorry, no chance to post pictures yet!
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