The Garmin is, for now at least, all but redundant. In addition to the Eurovelo, France is criss-crossed by the Vois Bleu or, as you may have guessed, the River routes. All there for the following.
To be honest, I never even knew they existed until Simon pointed them out. Since then, they have become my guiding light, not simply because of their reassuring elegance and natural beauty but also as the simplest and most effective route south. Forests are dark and forbidding. By comparison, rivers are reliable, comfortable, and friendly. You know where you are with a river, be she the Moselle, the Meuse, the Saône, the Rhone or whichever . Thanks to them, the last week of cycling has been pure pleasure. That even includes the Trevoux campsite where the innkeeper refused to let me in for.?….reasons of sanitation. Now I understand that a cyclists hygiene is not always the best, but that’s an insult, no? Apparently, it wasn’t a question of money but the fact that the water had been switched off at the end of the season. I offered her 12 Euros and looked forward to ‘marking territory’ in every corner of the lot. Indeed, Im really bored of ‘camping’ sites. For a start, there are few actual campers with tents. Instead, we’re treated to campervans and their super proud owners who seem to spend most of their time watching TV and emptying their toilets. Certainly not interacting with the likes of me.
The real benefit of the camp site is of course, piece of mind and the ‘holy of holies’, an extended hot shower. You understand. There is literally nothing better than to wash away the dirt, sweat, and fatigue after a long day of anything, never mind the saddle. Wild camping remains a possibility, but Im no purist. It’s not permitted in most of Europe, and convenient hiding places are not always available. The idea, however remote, of being moved on at 3am or worse, does not appeal. More significantly, hygiene is non-negotiable. Let’s be honest. This trip is hard enough as it is.
And so on to Lyon, another high profile way- point towards the south. I had no particular expectations about the place but once again was exhilarated from the very moment of entry from the verdant northern suburbs (fyi. Arondissment 9).
My companion, the Rhone effectively divides the city in half. Both the east and west banks then rise sharply, as if to get a better view of their muse. Indeed, there are ranks of apartment blocks across the slopes fighting for access.
No excuse is required for further exploration, but I needed to find a spare belt for my bike in the event of an accident or ware. It’s supposed to be replaced every 5000km or somewhere in the Western Sahara according to projections. Necessarily, a breakage here wouldn’t be ideal. And what better way to explore a city than seek out the bike shops. Naturally, that meant plenty of climbing, but the ‘nose bleed’ was somewhat staunched by the visual: tree-lined streets; gallic architecture, and stunning views over the city. Despite plenty of interest and sympathy, there was no ‘Coulwah’ (belt) to be had, but Ive learned a new, important word, if not its spelling. Moreover, as I came down off the high looking for a meal, I inadvertently entered the city centre. Wide pedestrianised boulevards, stunning period architecture, and that casual sense of total self-confidence. Dijon had the intimacy, Lyon the majesty. Loved it and would’ve been back for more the next day had the weather not taken a turn. There is a statue of Louis XIV in a principle square, and likewise, Lyon deserves the sun.
Its very cloudy today but also relatively warm. Jacket on or off? Fleece on or off? Who knows? When you’re in the saddle for 6-7hrs/day a disgree of discomfort is the norm, no matter.
So its all well and good switching off the Garmin, but my instincts still need some work. Id used a local supermarket in Oullins the previous evening before finding the nights camp. The next morning, I looped around in the opposite direction and, once again, found the supermarket (literally a figure of eight). An hour wasted when I was already planning a full day in the saddle towards Valance. I dont know the distance as Im not using Garmin, but it’s a long way down the Rhone Valley (look it up), and aesthetics only take you so far.
Fruit. And lots of it. Grapes are evidently not in season. But these perfectly ripe Granny Smith apples remain. Its like someone took them from the shops and stuck them back on the trees. And yes, of course, I took a couple. Its their fault anyway for surrounding me with fruity temptation just when I most needed refreshment. Ergo, Eve was innocent!
Moreover, the wind was at my back all day. I was flying! Indeed, I was so enthusiastic that I passed my intended camp and had to ride 10km back! Nonetheless, 70 km today at least. That’s the power of Vitamin C and wind.
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