May 1, 2014
Day 2: Paris to Crepy en Valois: Mud Wrestling
The bikes popped out at the oversized baggage chute at Charles de Gaulle airport quite promptly, and before most regular luggage arrived. One bike in a box came before our two in plastic. The box was ripped to shreds and obviously had been no more protection than our flimsy plastic bags. The bags in fact were slightly more intact than they had been when coming off the flight from Victoria to Montreal. Still, they were ripped enough. Handlebars poked through holes, and other parts of the plastic flapped uselessly.
I carried the limp bike bodies to a quiet corner and assessed the damage. The bottom of the bag is the first place to look, for parts that have fallen or been wrenched off. Dodie's bike produced quite a haul. There was a further plastic part from her Ortlieb handlebar bag mount, a snapped formerly sturdy zip tie, and a brake pad insert. The brake pad shell was scrapping along the rim and one brake spring was popped away from its retainer. It was easy to see what had happened.. The bike had been sent with its brakes applied and secured with a velcro tie. The wheels had been zip tied to be further motionless. But someone had dragged the bike forcefully backwards. With the brake applied by the velcro tie, the wheel had nonetheless rotated, backwards, breaking the zip tie and forcing the brake pad out the back end of the pad holder.
Other stuff - the seat was twisted, and the plastic protector we had put over the derailleur was smashed. Over at my bike,things were a bit better. They had managed to push the seat stem forward and to fold the back wheel under, in quick fold mode. So the bike looked crippled, but actually was ok.
It actually took a few hours to get the bikes repaired and totally in shape for riding again. By this time, the arrivals hall had emptied of people. Actually it had emptied and filled a few times. We kind of got to be a familiar fixture in our corner for people who worked in the area. Three of these were men who were jockeying luggage carts about. They asked us about our trip, becoming the first UQ people or this tour. Later, they advised us on what roads to take to get out of the airport area. And later they gave us an encouraging toot toot as they passed in an official truck, on one of those roads. Conversely, once I had changed into my cycling outfit - which includes a reflective vest - I got stopped and chided (at first) by another employee - for not displaying my airport ID properly around my neck.
When we did finally hit the road, we could gawk at all the planes, including ones passing overhead as our road took a tunnel underneath. There was also an example of the supersonic Concorde, now discontinued but still on display.
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To our surprise and pleasure, within 5 km we arrived at our first typical quaint French town, sleepy, with closed bakery and post office. And in another 2 km we were in large fields of mustard, already tall, and corn - just starting out. The D-roads we were taking, as with most D roads, had no or little shoulder but also light traffic and considerate drivers.
We normally could navigate by knowing which town we needed to reach next and relying on the road signs.However when things got confusing we started up the GPS, where we had a track from a Google Maps route we had done while at home.
Seemingly at every corner in towns there were people selling flowers, normally including bouquets of Lilly of the Valley, from little carts or from tables. We did not know if this was unique to it being Spring or whether it was something more specialized, for May 1. We see that Lilly of the Valley figures in a Guestbook post today from Michel in Nantes. There has to be a back story to it.
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Eventually, we followed the GPS onto a smaller than usual back road After a while, this deteriorated to a gravel road. The GPS seemed very sure of itself, so we carried on. I remarked that this was much like the Kettle Valley rail trail back home. As intrepid travellers, we would not be afraid of a little gravel!
After a while the gravel road deteriorated to a two rut track. Ah, did I mention that earlier, much earlier, our appearance in the region had brought torrential cold downpours. These had now settled down to routine drenching cold rain. The two rut track deteriorated to a grassy one rut track. This was not ride able, but we had already come so far, and the GPS was dead sure about this. So we pushed the bikes onwards. We pushed for many kms! Our courage turned to standard dumb Grampie stubbornness, and we carried on in the rain, until the grassy track turned to a muddy track. Now the tires picked up the gluey mud and included small rocks and twigs, and pushing became harder and harder. I put my hand behind the seat and pushed on, harder and harder.
Finally we could push no more, and took to cleaning out our wheels with the staff of our Canadian flags. This had turned into a bloody WWI muddy trenches situation! We finally pulled, lifted, and dragged our now 1000 pound mud laden bikes to an actual paved road of some type. Just where the track entered the road was a deep muddy puddle. We waded into this in our merino sock and sandal clad feet, and commenced kicking water over the stricken parts of the bikes. We kicked and flag poked and then finger poked for a long time, until finally the bikes were mostly rideable. So then we sailed on into the town by the paved road. It turned out to be "Ognes", indicating we had pushed about 15 km!
Now our objective was to find a town large enough that it might have a gite or a small hotel. Our Canadian flags had already drawn some attention during the day - friendly honks - but now a car stopped to ask if we were from Quebec. They were impressed to find we were not, but still spoke French. Anyway they suggested Nanteuil as a likely spot for a gite. Nice try, but no. However someone we spoke to there said there was a hotel in Crepy about 15 km away. We headed that way. Half way, at Orrnoy-Villers (where do they get these names?) someone suggested we go to Auger St Vincent. Crepy, they said, was really far!
We have learned to not always credit what locals tell you. Crepy probably did feel very far to the one lady. At 5 km away it could have been way out of her usual territory.
We of course arrived in Crepy quite quickly. Our informant had told us to turn right onto D1324 to find the hotel. We did do that, but first the intrepid travellers forged straight through the town gates, called the Paris Gates, for a look at downtown. A Lilly of the Valley seller rushed across the street and insisted we accept a small bouquet. Dodie declined, saying she had not room on the bike, but I took it and stuck the bouquet my handlebar bag mount. After we had checked out the town we swung around and headed back to our turn for the hotel. This brought us past the flower seller again. This time he stopped traffic and carried a bouquet to Dodie. This time she graciously accepted. Had to. This event was just one through the day, where people had smiled and waved and encouraged us universally. So nice!
The hotel, part of a chain called Akena Hotels, was very spartan. So spartan that you normally had to buy your room from a machine at the front door, and so to receive a code to open the door and your room door. The machine did not like our credit/debit cards, but we did manage to get the attention of one actual live staffer inside. 51 euros then bought us a postage stamp sized room far too small to put the muddy bikes in. However, they were fine with us leaving them in the corridor outside our door.
Thinking of postage stamps, we passed a half dozen post offices during the day. None were open. Each had their own weird set of hours, contrived to mean they were closed when we were outside their doors. Bizarrely, a pile of super markets, hyper and otherwise, were also closed. Is May 1 a holiday here?
First impressions? We love, love it here. Villages, so quaint. People, so nice. And they speak "Parisian" French - the kind we have a hope of understanding!
Today's ride: 58 km (36 miles)
Total: 58 km (36 miles)
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