We're all going on a Google Holiday...

Having been prompted by a post on the Cycling Holidays Google+ Community asking for pictures, I put up a gallery from my holiday to the Vendée back in 2005. And then I thought to my self to check how Google Maps (and Streetview) had come along since the last time I went to France, to see if I could actually find some of the places I'd taken pictures of.

Back in '06, when I first used Google Maps to provide me with detailed street maps for terminal guidance, the streets were there, aerial photography was very coarse grained, and of course Streetview didn't yet exist. Now, a fair amount of the '05 route was covered, or at least paralleled on the other side of a river or canal; and it was surprising quite how much of the route I remembered while virtually jaunting along it.

Which led me to digging out the paper maps from the '05 and '06 holidays, and retrospectively adding approximate maps to my blogged accounts, after reprising significant sections of the way from the comfort of my study, doing a virtual summer while the snow lay around outside.

Longer haul home

Broken sleep, and each time the sky outside is flat orange. Finally give up trying to go back to sleep at 04:40, and watch TV — Excalibur, Nadja Applefields, Reporter Blues — until time for breakfast. There at 07:30 on the dot, but I'm not the first one there. Out before 8, having managed a fair amount of eating, to trudge through the drizzle.

The station is busy, there is even another train at my platform before the one I want, heading to Spain. Mine arrives on time, and it's out into grey misty countryside. There are false starts at brightness, at Carcassonne, half an hour to cover all I'd cycled.

An hour to kill at Toulouse, so I can check where I should have gone to start the tour, then get on to a train that's starting from here; though I have to wait for the soft seat indicators to light up, at which point I find I have a window seat.

There is another cat travelling, who mews a bit to start with, and again as I go past to the loo. The canal is obviously next to the track for about 15 min, and another 5 or so if you know what to look for, as we diverge slowly; most of the way to Montauban.

The freestanding church tower was at Étampes.

Metro cross Paris, then Eurostar that's on time at Waterloo, for once. But the Northern Line makes up for it, I have to do Bakerloo and Picadilly instead. Then onto train at King's X, and home.

Seaside Outing

View To the sea in a larger map

Woke just in time to check my watch and then hear the clock on the Archbishop's palace chime 05:00. Why? At least I can do a dry run for tomorrow.

Once I've cleared the little bit of road and can get on to the canal path, it's cycling into the low sun, dodging joggers and oncoming cyclists. The sign after about 4 miles to Gruissan leads me off the suggested route, but on to a paved and essentially cycle-only road through the vineyards, and then the salt marsh.

The old tower of the castle appears against the bright sky, then as I loop around the bay, into clear view

Gruissan

the bay where the flamingoes are feeding.

There is a cyclepath around the edge of the town, but it's being repaired or upgraded, so I'm on the road most of the way, till past the bridge, then it's on to chunky aggregate and then a real path to Gruissan-plage. Here I cycle past the beach houses, up on stilts, only the garages on the ground floor, to the sandy beach. This has been bulldozed clean along the tide line, but is otherwise undisturbed, with bird tracks.

I park the bike, and wander barefoot over the sand, which is just firm and cool enough to be pleasant; the sea water is very chill.

I loop around the island, taking every wrong turn, then rejoin the canal at Mandirac, turning left to Port La Nouvelle. Past that point, the plane trees give way to cypress

Canal path south of Mandirac

this is hard work as it's into sea breeze, and is rough underfoot. The canal or the salt marsh beyond smell sulphurous. There is a picnic place at the St Lucie lock, but it requires getting a drawbridge across the canal operated, so I give it a miss.

P l/N is rather tacky seaside where it isn't working port, but there's a place at the end of the main street where I can park and sit on a bench to have lunch, then start the grind back.

I surprise myself at taking only about 3min to pass one pair of km markers, so ease off; but it is good to get back under the shade of the plane trees.

I spot something weird that has factory like corrugated metal between two old looking stone towers, a mixture of ecclesiastical and industrial, as I return to Narbonne; and closer, can see the canalside parts of town that I missed in the morning in the low sun. The bright weather makes it not too drab, but it's scarcely a pretty town; and I do have to dodge the usual drunks along the path.

Park and hand over bike, then shop for the morning. The hotel cat is lying on the pavement outside like it had melted. I agree, and have another siesta, then decide to do the crêperie again, even though the paid-for place is open (yesterday's still isn't).

Long haul to Narbonne

View To Narbonne in a larger map

I wake feeling fragile, and as I already have lunch packed, only breakfast lightly. Weather forecast is cool start, hot later, with mistral dying down.

The morning is almost too crisp under the plane trees, so I manage a good pace, about 13 kph over the paths, despite roots like sleeping policemen, or just knots that can catch a pedal, reaching the half-way mark by 11, where I stop for brunch, feeling recovered enough to be hungry. In terms of canal-side scenery, this is the most interesting, with all sorts of furniture - crossing over a river, various drains

Drain

and little villages that basked in the sun.

By 1pm, the canal path was replaced by road, and in places, was unshaded. Finally it came to a parting of the ways. I had no directions to indicate if the canal path was cyclable to and along the junction canal to the Robine canal in Narbonne, so at the hottest point of the day had to leave the shade completely.

The open road

This also took me out into rolling country, rather than the only gradients being up and over bridges I couldn't pass under, which comes as a shock to the system, as does the rather busy road I'm directed onto for a while; so I take a bit of a detour through narrow lanes to rejoin the route at Moussan. The terminal guidance to the hotel is a bit vague; and though I did what it said in terms of left and right, I'm not sure if this was the route I was meant to take. Anyhow, the canal was obvious, and from there the hotel was signed, and it was just a short push.

The guy on reception was surprised that I'd arrived as early as 14:30; but my bag was there, and the room had a much needed air-conditioner. This time the room had hot water, but I didn't feel like fighting a shower curtain, and did a flannel wash and feel much better, and doze for an hour or so to make up for last night.

Going out, the heat is oppressive. I recce the restaurant I'm supposed to be eating at in the Rue Droite (the road helpfully marked on the Google map I'd printed), then to find the station, which is about 10min from the hotel. The other restaurant is in the Place des Jacobins, which isn't on any map, but I find it by random walk; though I'm not impressed when I do. There is a nice looking crêperie close by which I earmark instead, and then go back to the room via Monoprix for lunch tomorrow.

The Jardin de Narbonne in Rue Droite is not functional at 19:45, so I do the crêperie anyway. It was still not functional on the way back to the hotel either, as I amble back via the prettily illuminated streets.

At Carcassonne

I wake up early, so go for a stroll along the canal, and then take a cruise

Lock house at LaDouce — one of a series

back a couple of locks, rising 2m (LaDouce), then 4m (Herminis) before turning around.

Stroll up to the old town and take more photos

The other end of town

Pick up a light late lunch, and sprawl & read on the grassy bank in front of the hotel

Shade and shelter from the mistral

which I do for much of the rest of the p.m.

The whole 50cl bottle of rosé is a bit too much, and having crashed about 10pm, I wake at 1am with a cold sweat, before falling back into broken sleep until about 6.

To Carcassonne

View Castelnaudary to Carcassone in a larger map

Breakfast is served early, and there's nothing to stay for, so start ambling at about 8. The route is easy and obvious; and the sections that I've been warned are “unmaintained” are not bad - just smooth bare earth. Better than the off-road bits on the cycle to work. However I do meet a post van going the other way, and later get stuck behind a slow moving Rives de France van.

Later the path dwindles to a handspan wide bare trace in the grass, but never as near the water as keeping to the right on some of the maintained bits would have left me. The last stretch in the deep cutting in Carcassonne is push/scramble only, except the last stretch as it reaches the station.

Start scrambling here — or zig-zag over the canal by road

By now the sky has cleared, so as it's not yet noon, I park the bike and do an orientation wander, not very efficiently, find some lunch, and eat it in the breeze and shade near the hotel. Mid afternoon I check in to this rather Edwardian place, to find that the art deco style shower only offers the choice of cold and freezing. Ugh.

Make a quick walk into the old town to scout it out, and generally decide what to do for the stay-over tomorrow.

My God, it's full of tourists!

To Castelnaudary

View Tolouse to Castelnaudary in a larger map

The journey starts with the usual casting around to reconcile two different sets of instructions and reality, to get out of town on the correct side of the canal for a path that wouldn't just end miles from a bridge. Hint:-

Canal path - a GR path on the map

Though the day started bright, but the time I'm leaving Toulouse, about 10am, it's dull, and there is dampness on the wind. The cycling is a grind with what wind there is against me, and the canal path is boring going — even when I can see past the screening bushes, there's a main road, or fields of ripening sunflowers

harvest

There is a sprinkle of rain after lunch, but it then gradually becomes brighter, but breezy (and warm and sticky, too).

A welcome bath on arrival at the otherwise undistinguished hotel, then recce for the other hotel where I have a dinner token. In the main square, they are tidying up after the weekend's cassoulet festival (supposedly invented here during the 100 years war, when the beseiged townsfolk put all their remaining food into one big pot).

There are lizards on the steps up to the high point of the town, and the footbridge over the canal; and a flaming rose sky on the way back from dinner.

Train to Toulouse

After taking an early night, I kept waking up in case it was time to get up, and gave up the effort of trying to sleep about 06:40. By a strange coincidence, the highlight of the day was 6h40m of train journey, starting 10:10.

I had finished breakfast and packing by just after 8, and, with not a lot else to do early on a Sunday morning, was at the Gare d'Austerlitz by twenty to 9. Even so, I had pretty much Hobson's choice of where to sit on the benches on the platform if I wanted to watch the board to find out which platform the train would be leaving from. So it was a case of sitting there while the swarthy guys with SMGs patrolled (not completely confidence inspiring).

The train was signalled half an hour before leaving, so it was no rush to get on, and the coach was comparatively empty.

On the journey, there was a church with a free-standing tower; and at Toury, the first of the many wind farms. After 1hour, cross the Loire near Orléans, and it's starting to brighten from a grey start, with flickers of blue sky.

There is a woman with a young black cat, just out of kittenhood, that wants to explore, and prowls a little on its lead, before spending a long time zonked on her lap, or sticking out a curious face into the aisle.

Half way point, Limoges, patchy sun, and we've swung around to east of south. 4h10m in, Brive le Gaillard, 3pm Souillac (where I stopped back in 2000), 3:20 Gourdon. Now definitely out into fair-weather clouds and sun, which is better than the most recent weather forecast. 15:45 Cahors, 16:13 Caussade, 16:28 Montauban. For the final ten minutes of the journey we are alongside the canal, with plenty of cyclists on the path, looking good for the morning.

Short walk to the hotel, cunningly hidden in a courtyard, in hot sun. Bike already there, so do try out. The front suspension is soft, which always feels worrying; and the tyre doesn't pump particularly hard — but it doesn't seem to be leaking.

Smarten up for supper, and wander into town. The low sun across the main square is in my eyes. Many places are closed for August and Sunday, and I start worrying that I'll have to back track to the McDo's; but in the Rue du Taur, I find a creperie, where I can sit out on the pavement, and enjoy a meal (blue cheese galette, crepe tatin, 50cl cider and mint tea).

Weather forecast suggests dull and showery tomorrow, but fine for the rest of the week.

Paris

Wake up with the sun, but, because I can, take my time getting up. Breakfast, then a long walk out past Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe, taking the Champs Elysées for the first time — so I'm surprised at the commercial nature, more like Oxford Street west of Oxford Circus, but much wider. Beyond the Peripherique, it gets quieter and more run down light commercial, then nigh residential,before crossing the Seine.

La Défense

I had been dodging scattered sprinklings of rain, and it was still gloomy as I tentatively crossed the deserted retail area at the near edge of the complex, and onto the first of the art installations

Public art at La Défense

but then it moved from hotels (flats, too? offices?) with more art, then a plaza before the Grand Arch, with more people around

Carousel at La Défense

and finally out onto the jetty to nowhere beyond

End of the line

Having completed this axis from the Tuileries, I return over the Seine, then turn right down a pretty avenue, then into the Bois de Bologne, to Trocadero, and back in the rain along the Rive Gauche. All this time, Smart fortwos are everywhere, often 3 or 4 in sight at once.

Resupplied for the morning, I then take the obligatory supper at La Trappiste.

Annual French Cycling Holiday

An early start, with just a slice of the first home-grown apple pie of the season for breakfast. Getting to Cambridge station, I just miss a very early train, the next one to King's X is delayed, so catch on for Liverpool St. instead, which gets me in with plenty of time to walk.

At the Eurostar check-in I get the usual "travelling while bearded" hassle, so the equally suspicious looking guy doing the security spends absolutely ages looking at my bike repair bits, camping cutlery set and reading glasses case, and swabbing my bag down for gas chromatography.

By that stage, breakfast is a distant memory, and the packed lunch has repacked to the bottom of the bag — so I go wild at the sandwich bar.

As my coach is all the way at the front of the train, I wear, rather than carry the big rucksack, and just sling it in the rack at the end of the coach, without sipping up the panel that covers all the gear. Mistake - the buckle on the belly-band snap must have caught on the rack, because it was stripped off by the time I tried to sling the pack on on the platform at Gare du Nord, and by the time I managed to scramble back into the coach, there was no sign.

Paris is bright and hot, not cool as per the forecasts I checked, and so by the time I've slogged all the way down St Denis, I'm soaked from the inside. This year I'm in room 34, and once the power is back, the lift working and the fire alarm in the hotel silenced, I can actually have a bath. If I keep one foot pushing the plug down into the hole, that is.

Seine at evening

I go for a stroll, but I'm not very hungry, so wander through C&A's, finding that where they used to have silk shirts they now do polyester viscose (ugh!), and then pick up some juice at the Franprix next door to the hotel to have with a little bit of the packed lunch.

Charente Waterways

Homeward bound

Early up again, breakfast, and another walk, taking photos in bright morning light, with the sun already hot. Check out at 09:30, though this takes them a while to figure out how much I owe for eating à la carte when I'm booked demi-pension.

I'm at the station at 10:00, and am not best please to find that I'll be on a perfectly good TGV to Paris and have to get off it to kick my heels in Poitiers for two hours. That town is built around a steep river valley, so getting far from the station is too much climb in the hot and sticky. The station loo eats my 40c and fails to open, so when I reach the nearest bit of shade in the Solferino gardens, I pay appropriate respects at the back of the war memorial.

Lunch of tabouleh and strawberries; walk a circuit, and wait where the coach is supposed to pull in.

Of course the train is back to front compared with the map, so everyone has to trudge; and the coach I'm booked into is full of 8-10 year olds with only one adult (teacher?) in control. Having manfully struggled to keep awake on the first train, now I have trouble dozing, and when I do, that's the cue for the ticket inspector.

Hike from Montparnasse, down the Rue de Rennes where there are girls promoting the Smart forfour; and I have to repeatedly tell them I've already got one of the originals.

There are sprinkles of rain, but nothing major, and I get to the Trappiste at 16:30. Late lunch on salade Italienne (today's special) and a bottle of Rodenbach. Walk to Sebastopol and metro the rest, because it's there. It's also very hot and humid.

Eurostar has the usual problems of folk with infeasible amounts of luggage; and I have a monstrous hike to the front of the train. Emerging from Paris, there's a monster thunderhead off the to right, but by the time we reach the Somme it's now fair weather clouds.

Usual mystery tour of S. London, plus 15 minute wait for points problems near Battersea power station, ending up 1/2 hour late. Just miss the 21:06 at King's Cross, have to catch the 21:51 medium-slow train. And so home, beer, bath, bed.

Île de Ré

View Île de Ré in a larger map

Forecast of lightning storms and 14C this morning, cloudy and up to 24C this afternoon.

Muesli and yoghurt for fuel, then I'm on the road at 07:36. This time I make the route direct and don't feel chill even in just a light silk shirt. The grind over the bridge is boring, rather than tiring. There are lightning flashes, but no thunder, in the distance ahead as I coast down. This is a bit worrying.

Map

On dry land at 08:15 and start negotiating the roadworks along the harbour cycleway in Rivedoux. Past La Flotte and am at St. Martin by 09:30, with only one stop under a tree for a brief shower that barely wets the path. As usual, when I try to take pictures, all the traffic in the world arrives out of nowhere - including a bus that wants to mount the bit of sidewalk I'm parked on!

I do seem to have been revisiting my Jammy Bastard skills with the weather, as veils of rain go by on either side, accompanied by lightning.

Now there's a long flat run up the coast, horse, donkeys and their foals, goats and kids, sheep, and vineyards separated from the tidal marshes by a high hedge. This is all into the wind, like the island is on a slope.

Tide was low earlier so I'm worried by the low paths where the cycleway cuts between le Martray and Ars, with open water to either side — this is at the very neck of the island where the main road is about as wide as the dry land.

It has obviously rained heavily here and recently, and the crunching noise as I cycle is not gravel, but snail-shells, as the whole path is thickly strewn with all sizes of them, looking like they are involved in suicidal cannibal feasts on the wet tarmac.

By Ars, start to notice that although I started with a distance of 29.5km to the Phare des Baleines, the total distances to start and the the Phare slowly increase. Near St Clement, I stop to take a photo of the Phare now it's obvious — and reach into the saddlebag for the brolly, instead, and wait for the shower to stop. Phare is signed as 2km away as other distances mount, like some event horizon; but finally it yields and I get to it — to find not a lighthouse on a bleak promontory, but a whole slew of concessions, and loads of tourists. I do a quick circuit for pictures, and start the way back at 11:38 : having been on the road for 4 hours, I don't have much dwell time.

I loop round St Clement to the west, then backtrack, with just a side trip to Loix at around 13:00 because it was there. And now that the sun has started to show I apply sunblock — I already have serious tanlines around the cycling shorts, and some reddening where the hems have shifted.

I passed a lot of picnic sites on the way out, but taking the western loop from la Couarde, there aren't any, so I munch cheese at random stopping points, and then have a pack of biscuits for refuel at 14:30 before taking the bridge. Riding back has been weird as I'd been going with the wind, often riding in dead, oppressive, calm, which oncoming cyclists were having to struggle as I had had to.

It really is only about 1/4 the way across to reach the top on the homeward leg on the bridge, and with the knack of the cyclepath, it's only another hour to get to the hotel, and can unpack everything, drop it in the room, write a note to the Bicyclette Verte chap about the puncture (and grinding pedals, and gears that don't shift where the index markings are), change and drop the bike off at reception.

Check station: 5 mins walk even with rush-hour traffic; and note that the old departure hall is being remodelled. Shop for supplies for the way back, then further to take more photos. It's now a bit chilly for short sleeves and shorts.

Bath, check the tan lines aren't too bad after the stop-go sun this afternoon. 18:00 sunny, blue sky except cloud low in NNW when I started this last section. 18:30 now and cloud is most of the way here and the sun is hazy. Cloud comes and goes all evening, and by 22:30 most of it has passed. Dinner diffs - duck in orange, not beef; no cheese, strawberry soup.

Wander out past Chain tower, and the gardens beyond, see across to Minimes, bristling with masts, and a silvered glass rotunda brilliant in the last of the sun. Back through the parks, dodging a skein of trainee rollerbladers in high-vis tabards, and through more of the back streets behind Jean d'Acre. There's a curry-house, but it looks geared to the rosbifs, given the amount of English on the menu, and a mystic store with, amongst the other stuff, an Île de Ré tarot — which I am content to leave as an enigma; then round through Minimes, which is dead like the City at this time, unlike the still vibrant old town, and then packing and so to bed.

All the photos

To the Sea!

View Fontenay to La Rochelle in a larger map

Well, an even more convincing "Nee!" from the Dutch. And SNCF are holding a strike today. At least that should be over by the time I travel. Clear and bright again, and the forecast is that I'm headed for the hottest part of the country, at 30C this afternoon!! Crap! I want the cooler showery weather I was promised.

On the road at 07:42, and I'm already soaked with sweat from loading the bike, though the air is cool. Twenty minutes in, at Boisse, I swap my helmet for the sunhat.

The riverside path is really crappy, worse than I remembered, so I swap onto the main road at Chaix.

In Veilluire, another cat who hides from the camera; and I'm at the viewpoint beyond after 65 minutes. I'm at Île d'Elle at 09:35, and solve the mystery of the Rue de la République that I didn't find last year; it's a no-entry, just after the pharmacy, and the sign with the name is not visible from the way I'm coming. I push into the square, and the find a town plan. A better route would be to follow the cyclepath towards Maillezais at this point.

The thermometer at the pharmacy says 22.5C, but between breeze and flat terrain, it's better than yesterday.

10:00 at the outskirst of Marans, on the reasonable track along the canal (better than at Boisse, not as good as to Île d'Elle) — I'm slower than last year, strolling and taking photos. The run so far has been pretty, but not the sort of stuff where you can easily bottle the moment in a photo.

Marans is a pretty town if you avoid the advice to stick to the canalside which leads you through the Industrial area. Better to cross the N137 at once, then turn left towards and past the church — you can't miss the D105 if you keep on this side of the canal and the N137.

retrofit steeple

Getting onto the main canal again, the ride is wonderful, what I came back for. Shade, breeze. Unlike last year, no anglers on the sluices, just a couple on the banks; and no hikers to have to weave amongst.

Then the last run to the coast where there are blessed sea breezes. I reach the third fort, south of l'Homeau about 13:15, about 45 minutes slower than last year, mostly due to the stop in Marans. I lunch here (memo to self: pack a spoon — it makes eating pots of fruit purée easier); but whereas last year I soaked up blessed sun after the rain, now I sit under the one shaded tree. There is a creperie a few minutes further on, but all the outside tables are in the sun.

And then I take the cycleway round the top of the town, and in through Mireuil. At each stop for lights, the heat is fierce, but I don't feel anywhere as bad now I've stopped as I did yesterday. Only a little bit of farce at reception: I'm booked into an accessible room!

Have a very welcome bath and then stroll. This time I find a small co-op in the back streets behind the harbour, where I didn't venture last time, so am set up with cheese and biscuits for lunch tomorrow, and cold orange drink for now. Drop off lunch at room (after an old guy had stopped playing silly buggers with the lift), then walked along the harbour to Minimes and Ville de Bois, where I can sit at a shaded picnic table and enjoy the breeze — and look at the anti-shadows on my hands, where I've tanned through the cycle gloves.

I really like modern technology. The 128Mb chip I have in the camera has more than 50 shots left on it, despite reckless use (almost 100 with the extra cards).

The mediæval bits of La Rochelle port are imposing, but the old town is cramped and hot. There is also the usual old French run-down feel that makes most places less photogenic than at first meets the eye. I am more drawn to the futuristic modern bits, with air and green spaces. It all feels a world away from Mervent and Fontenay!

5pm and the living is easy. Except for the hopeful sparrows hopping around the table, and finding I've no crumbs to drop.

Had a good wander in the mellowing sun touring the harbour. Catch forecast that says the weather will break overnight, and be much more like what I was anticipating come the weekend.

Dine à la carte, mushroom ravioli with extra wild mushrooms, emincé of beef (harmless), cheese (fuel) and apple crumble (harmless); plus the good Haut Poitou rosé again.

21:30 and it's still shirtsleeves weather for a wander, especially out of the wind in the old town collonades, where ice-cream parlours are still doing a roaring trade well after 22:00. Some of the masonry is buttressed with timbers.

Hazy cloud came up in the west during dinner, blunting the last of the sun. An arm of some weather system is going to sweep by. The warm breeze tells me that something is on its way. Hope it's not too bad for tomorrow's run on the Île de Ré

Fontenay day trip

View Fontenay day trip in a larger map

Out into new territory, with an 08:00 start, and I get to where I left off past L'Orbrie walking by 09:30, having taken a while to push the bike down the obvious (but one-way) route through town (not that the locals seem deterred by the signs) and to take photos.

If I had gone on last year, the path (where one is advised to push unless extra fit on a mountain bike) would have been a young river, as I'd expected. Today it was the hottest and nastiest 200m pushing up a dried river bed I've gone with a bike; and by the time I reach the top, I'm drenched with sweat. Not a good omen.

The forest road is nice to ride; but I misread the instructions, not helped by the pink squiggles drawn on my copy of the map, and don't look for the side turn to Vouvant soon enough, and end up at les Quilleres, so I hack back across a diagonal of the suggested route to Vouvant — the slightly-more-main road is empty enough and is pleasant riding. Vouvant is a pretty town (see photos), with church, castle, loads of flowers, and lots of low-flying swallows, as well as buzzards higher up.

Flowers at Vouvant

I now try to cast the way back, and can't find the forest road from this end either, so take the Route Forestiere de Verrieres instead, and get back to the road I'd started on. Finally find the Belle Cepee sign hidden by undergrowth. I try to cross the river at Pierre Brune (brown stone cliffs), but the road is closed that day for tree surgery.

Now very hot, and no wind; it's stifling under the trees. I shed helmet for sun-hat, and backtrack to Mervent, which is resurfacing hell, grit and tar and roadworks everywhere. I don't regret skipping it earlier, and do regret doing the up and over now. I'm not going back on the path I came up, so I carry on to the main road. It's a lot of pushing up hill, too hot for hard work in low gear, but once past the climb up out of the river valley, it's downhill almost all the way to Fontenay, just one last hard left and push up to the hotel. I'm hot, very hot, but not tired. Need lots to drink, though, and then force myself out to buy more for tomorrow, when I'll have over 5 litres on board.

Dinner is a crab and avocado mould with some pale stuff that turned out to be cucumber, then the rest is as yesterday, except I skipped cheese, being too full.

Early finish for the meal at 20:15, so I wander into town to try and find something photogenic, rather than the usual shabby. A thermometer says 25 degrees; it's still saying 22 well after 21:00. This is not what I'd been expecting — indeed I'd put on a long sleeved shirt for dinner and regretted it; it's still more than comfy with sleeves rolled up at 21:15 as I jot these notes.

There is no sign of the clouding over from the morning's weather forecast, and the cooler weather I'd expected from the long range forecasts went further north. If I do the Midi tour next year, that will definitely be early May!

Niort to Fontenay

View Niort to Fontenay in a larger map

07:54 start. Tyre sound, or seems so. Air is cool, but sun is hot. Get to Magné in 40 minutes, passing the first Smart I've seen since Paris. In Magné I get distracted by a teen-cat who leaps a wall to avoid having his picture taken, so nearly lose my way.

Coulon after 70 minutes. Tyre OK. Cellette after 2 hours. Tyre still good; but the way the front shocks feel when I get on means that mounting is much squishier than I am used to, which adds to the paranoia. The countryside is flat, with crops of maize or sunflowers, and some wheat, all just knee-high.

I pass half-remembered places that look so different in the full sun. The only clouds are weather passing north, and contrails.

Plenty of frogs croaking in the canals and ditches, with plenty of splashing as I approach. I stop at 10:15 just past Ste. Christine for the traditional marais cattle shot near where I did last year; and soon after I come to where I saw the young cats too; there is a flurry of kittens (10-12 weeks), but mum just stays in the shade.

At Courdault, all is going well, so I take the aside to the port, but it's being worked on and is just a massive excavation, and the road was simply atrocious, pot-holes and grit. Soon after I pass the picnic site I paused to pre-blog at last year. By just after 11:00 I'm past Bouillé on the way to Maillezais, which I think puts me ahead of last years rate. Maybe I ran too fast at the start, or there was too much headwind then; today there's just a refreshing breeze.

4 hours in, and I'm stopped at the picnic place past St. Pierre le Vieux on the way to Souil. I needed to navigate a bit in Maillezais. The roadworks there last year are gone, but the diversion of the road is now a fixture (what was the St Pierre road is a no-entry, and the only decent bit of surface in town). For the first time today I got off and pushed up the hill, having lost momentum while casting around.

On this stretch, I remember places where I got off and pushed, so weary, last year, and now I don't even feel the need to change gears. Even on the way past the walls of the churchyard at St Pierre, which I remember passing with hazy loathing. Then, all of a sudden, when I thought I must have passed it unawares, the leaping stag sign and another remembered picnic place by the bridge.

It's now definitely time for lunch, to finish the bread pud I'd packed, and some local jaffa-cake equivalents. Thoughts of making a long stay in the shade dashed when a whole bunch of other folk turn up, and look rather squeezed around the second, and non-shaded, table, so finish the pud and set off.

The open plain between here and Fontenay that I pushed most of the way through last time is an easy stroll and I can't remember why I worried about the bridge over the main road.

The Rue de Jericho is closed, so thank goodness for previous recon — I just follow the road I'm on to the Avenue Hoche, turn right and follow the signs. It's a little hairy at one of the junctions, but in five hours, and thirty minutes later I'm there on the verandah of the same room as before, drinking a long drink of blood-orange.

After a couple of hours, and a shower, I wander into town for more supplies; drink mainly, and some strawberries for tea. It's too hot to do anything more than flop in the shade; but a bonus is that out on the terrace will be good for dinner.

Millefuile of tomato,aubergine and feta; leg of duck, and a 1/2 bottle of a local rosé (and today that seems to be the tipple of choice, not just my own eccentricity), soft cheeses, then pan-fried pineapple with pepper and rosemary.

While I eat, I see someone hang-gliding in the distance.

By 21:30, the last of the sun is slanting through my room, but it is cool enough that I want my denim shirt over the short-sleeved silk to be comfortable sitting on the verandah and enjoying the last light.

Much needed shade at Fontenay

All the pictures here.

Niort Day Trip

Day breaks cool and cloudy, damp. Find the back tyre a little soft, so pump it up and set out — and maybe a couple of miles out, bump, bump bump! Back wheel entirely flat. Ugh!

The tyre is really tight on the rim, and takes all sorts of effort to get off, and it takes a while to find that the puncture is on the inside, where the rim tape is askew, and the holes where the spokes fit have sharp edges. And the first attempt at patching fails to hold.

Wheel back, and fix at leisure — and getting cramp in my left thumb while trying to re-seat the tyre. I walk into town and lunch at a creperie, with a pint of cider being the main objective, as the cloud has broken and it's cleared up.

Afternoon is occupied by a truncated version of the tour, by road to St. Liguiare

Church and one-way system at St. Liguaire

The back tyre still seems a bit soft, so about 2/3 of the way round I pump it up, but I start to sketch out contingencies for the morning. I can't find a cycle shop to get an extra inner tube, but as the tyre is still firm at 10pm, I will chance the run tomorrow rather than call for aid.

Dinner is a ham terrine, chicken supreme, and fromage frais with chopped chives. Wander into town and take pictures, then crash.

There doesn't appear to be anyone else on this or either adjacent day of the tour.

All the pictures.

Paris to Niort

Weather again better than forecast. and the TV suggests the next couple of days will be good, though it may be (as I'd expected) wet in Niort when I arrive. Today (as I write this sitting near the Eiffel Tower) there is high cloud. Smart cars are very popular, and I've even seen a forfour. While walking here, I've seen a chap leading a string of ponies and donkeys for rides near Invalides, OB units by Concorde for the referendum, the Louvre with virtually no queue to get in (just about 10:00 on a Sunday), a garden growing in the vertical face of the new Museum being built on the Quai Branly (alpines and other flowers, not only creepers). Lots of rollerbladers dicing with the traffic, and the usual women with begging pitches on cards to thrust out at the tourists where there are some to be found. But there are other green places to sit to kill time. And a lot of antiques fairs today, all around where I've walked. But the most eyestopping sight is a woman obviously in her fifties at one of the antiques fairs with hair as candyfloss pink as an anime girl.

The Gare Montparnasse is cleaner and livelier than last year, with a lot of stalls open.

I am not amused to find that the train I've been booked on goes directly to Niort, not needing the gratuitous change at Poitiers that Belle France organised. That's just a delay for no reason.

There is a flurry of rain near St. Pierre Des Corps (Tours). There are blushes of poppies in the fields towards Chatellerault, and more sprinkling of rain at Poitiers as I wait. At least the station signing is good, and I just have to wait on the same platform for the local train (which fortunately is new, and almost empty).

The pavements are damp in Niort when I arrive, and the walk to the hotel cool and dry, by contrast with last year. The bike is already waiting for me, and I just have enough time to change and get back down when the chap arrives to check everything OK. Bike is much the same as last year's.

Now time for a much needed bath, and by the time I'm done, the rain is back and has set in. The weather forecast looks good for the week, though I think I shall avoid the off-road bit tomorrow. Dinner is crab&avocado, chunky pork rib joint with spicy rice, cheese, and the Haut Poitou rosé from last year.

Initial result 55% Non!

Charente Cycling : London to Paris

Last year I went on a cycling holiday in the west of France, and got rained on a lot. So I'm trying it again, later in the season, hoping for better weather. 10-day forecasts on the net lead me to expect temperatures of about 20C, maybe showery at the end of the week; with the hot spell from yesterday breaking down in rain in Paris and on Sunday, violent thunderstorms over most of France.

I make an early start, the 09:15 fast train to King's Cross and then there's nothing much to do in town so I just dead-reckon through the back streets to Waterloo Bridge, and am at the station with about an hour to wait for the scheduled departure. I'm just checked in when the fun starts - a goods train failed at West Dulwich, no ETA for fixing. This turns into a 30 min delay to start.

I'm the first to make the long hike to my carriage when we're finally allowed to board, and the second is the passenger in the window seat next to mine, a young French lass who is amused at the happenstance. We chat a while before traveller's doze sets in (with me having to wake her when the Eurostar rep comes around to find what needs to be done about making connections).

Get into Gare du Nord about 50 minutes late, and I hike through the heat. We'd passed a lot of "Non" posters in the suburbs, and only in the very centre did I see many "Oui" ones.

Room 36 at the Flor Rivoli, this time; and a very welcome shower - though the weather is hot enough that it's a job getting dry.

Check out the little creperie where we ate last October, but it's shut, so head to the Trappiste for food as well as beer. After, I wander past the gardens at the Forum des Halles, and then down to and across the river, to see folk catching the rays, and picnicking.

Parisians basking in the evening sun

There are dance classes in the sunken areas around the sculpture park — salsa, Flemish pipe and viol, old-fashioned squeeze-box driven country dancing; plus some ad hoc bongoing.

Charente waterways

Mediaeval Midi

Paris

Canal side art

Just back from a few days in Paris, where I was able to loaf about enjoying some of the autumn sun.

Tuesday was the journey down; Eurostar, as ever, and after a hair-raising taxi ride from the Gare du Nord to the Novotel Les Halles, I could settle down and start to explore for food. For a change, I wandered up past Les Halles to the Rue Tiquetonne, for the rather excellent Loup Blanc. This serves various marinated and grilled meat and fish, along with some green salad and rice, and a choice of more exotic salad accompaniments, such as various sorts of melon in coconut milk and lime juice.

Wednesday was cool and grey, so time for a yomp up to the Parc de la Villette (head up Sebastopol to the Gare de l'Est, bear right, keep going past Stalingrad), to the Cité des Sciences, and a promenade in the park, before returning along the canal. As it was raining by evening, dinner was in the Creperie St. Eustache, in the Rue Sauval, close to the hotel, an unpretentious, simple creperie, with good cider. Needless to say the weather put me off the idea of watching the lunar eclipse.

Thursday was warm and sunny, a last indian summer, pleasant to sit in shirtsleeves in the Jardin des Plantes after a promenade along the Rive Gauche, and otherwise not do a lot. It was even too warm for a jacket in the evening, when going up to the Bourse for a traditional French meal at the Gallopin. A leisurely meal, then strolling back along the Rue Montmartre in the bright moonlight.

Friday, tried to shop — but the season is wrong for silk shirts, and the dedicated silk and cashmere shop I'd used some years ago now seems to have been replaced by something downmarket. Lunched at the Trappiste — Salade Parmentier, for a change, with a couple of bottles of Rodenbach grand cru, double fermented and aged for two years in oak — before starting the journey back.

Entry composed while eating a couple of quiches from the bakery just by the hotel.

For the less able visitor, I would definitely recommend the guidebook Paris en Fauteuil — and collecting a lot of 10 and 20 centime pieces, as the reasonably accessible automatic toilets take 40 centimes a shot.

Homeward bound

It's a shut-down holiday day, so not a lot to do after breakfast but pack and check out. At La Rochelle station by 10:00 - almost an hour to kick my heels - to see that, despite this being a TGV terminus, and regional hub, that the board signing departures is already showing tomorrow morning's first train, and a lot of the services during the day are coaches, and mine, the 10:52, is the next train (or indeed service of any kind). The morning is cool and bright. I'm there in a T-shirt, feeling fine (carrying all my other clothes on my back is warming enough), but this is enough to get me asked whether I'm cold.

On the train, I find I'm sitting next to the same chap as on the way out.

Half an hour out from Paris, I hear rain on the windows, but it barely leaves a smear, tiny droplets just skitter off the glass. At Montparnasse, it feels like I've done most of the journey by the time I get to the line 4 metro platform. The train is crowded, I have my big rucksack on my back and a small one in front, which is awkward enough - not helped by a group of Japanese tourists getting on and re-enacting a Tokyo rush-hour part way through the trip.

Arrive in enough time that I could have caught the earlier Eurostar, so there's more hanging around. Northern France is under grey drizzly rain. At Waterloo, at passport control, I get stuck behind some USan chap who thinks that resident status allows him to use the EU passport lane. Get a clue guys, you fought a war about that sort of thing about 230 years ago!

Underground is remarkably empty, especially by comparison with the Metro, and I arrive at King's Cross to see more trains signed in the next half hour than La Rochelle served all day. One of the political posters I saw in France was a protest against privatisation and similar with one slogan being "No to railways like British ones." Actually, I'd rather British frequent service than French once or twice a day like rural buses.

Train not too crowded, and the football types get off at Stevenage. And group of loud (pre-?)teen girls get on, giggling and squealing away at ear-piercing volume. They acted more like boys, but higher pitched.

Home, beer, crash.