September 3, 2011
Short night's sleep, early start, on the bridge, unknown roads, Chateau Chambord, feeling thirsty and Mister Muscle.
It was warm so I lay outside the sleeping-bag and warm still making it hard getting to sleep. Daybreak saw me waken from a short night's sleep, though anxious to get on the road early, I didn't delay, but turned out at once and at once broke camp, and quickly got everything on the bike ready to go. Aye! The trailer wheel was flat, not surprising really as for want of a sixteen inch inner tube, I had used a twenty-six inches inner tube with the extra tube folded inside the small sixteen inch trailer wheel tyre. On the picnic table, I set up the stove to boil water for tea then set about finding a hole.
Small birds sang away and the water came to the boil. I poured the tea and went on with sticking a patch on the set glue around the hole. I put the tube back in it's place and put the tyre back on the rim, then pumped the wheel up hard. Perhaps it would last a day or two before the next flat I hoped. The tea was now brewed so I sat down at last.
The forest enclosed the road on the ride into the city of Blois, wherein, I followed the "Tout Direction" signs through the city down to the river embankment and up onto the bridge over The Loire. There, I stopped to take a photo of the old city from the river, it's cathedral and steeples silhouetted in the early morning air. The old bridge stretched out across the river there beyond which, hot air balloons floated at ease high above the river and further upstream, two white rags of steam from a power station towered against the crimson dawn sky.
Onwards, the road I planned on taking was a complete no-no, there being constant heavy traffic and no shoulder to safely cycle upon, but, there was a Green Route sign which led to a path. The path ran parallel to the highway through long grass and city wasteland for awhile, then passed underneath and away from the roar and swish of the highway. The compact clay path meandered across more wasteland, then through the narrow back-streets between the fenced in back gardens of urban housing, then vegetable allotments and eventually it led out on a road whereupon, I followed the Green Route signs from one satellite village to the next. I didn't quite know where Is going which isn't unusual other than the sun was to my right and on my left, between villages, I could still see the high blocks of the city beyond the wasteland above the trees, so presumably I was still going south east.
Around about ten o'clock while sat on a bench in a village street eating a meat pastry from a bolougere, I looked at my map and saw a place called Cambord which was a place I'd seen on a signpost at the end of the street.
At last Is riding on a road I could find on my map. The road was through ancient forest again and after cycling ten kilometres, the road onwards passed through a gateway with decorative stone pillars on either side. I learned from reading the interpretation board there at the side, that Cambord is a Chateau.
Through the gateway, cycling down a somewhat stately drive lined by big cedar trees to the furthermost end to what to me looked not unlike the; Walt Disney castle, what with it's round towers and pointy turrets. It felt like a surreal eighteenth century world as the drive came square in front of a majestic palace, where I turned right and followed the lawned grounds around under grand old trees that grew all around. Queerly dressed twenty first century tourists sprawled over the period greens, some with sun hats and others used parasols to shade the sun, it was perhaps the most people I'd see all day.
The road went round the whole house and grounds to where a cycling couple had stopped to gawk at another side, her and him, I didn't care to make exchanges, but feature in a photograph.
I was now in the rustic old hamlet of Chateau Cambord with it's one restaurant and no shop. It had gone noon, was very warm and I could have done with a cold drink just then, but, as restaurants sell cold drinks only in ridiculously small bottles that cost a lot, I would forgo a refreshing drink, instead make do with warm tap water. It seems ironic anyway in places where the weather is warm and thirsty that, little slim 175ml bottles are served. I had worries too of finding a shop by lunch time as there was nothing to eat and furthermore, it was Saturday and I would have to stock up for Sunday, but as I rode on through more forest, the signpost showed it was a long way to the next village. After nearly an hour cycling to that village, and after an exhaustive look-about therein, I found there was lots of restaurants but still no shop. And the next village reached after twelve kilometres, I found everything shut-up for the afternoon, perhaps shut for the weekend, save that is for an old fashion petrol station which although lifeless like the rest of town, had a water tap where I gulped my fill of cold water.
Back out on the road again, it was sixteen kilometres to the next place according to the map anyway. Still riding through forest, it seemed the forest went on forever as I felt sleepily tired, it was going to be a long ride. Every bump and distortion of the warm tar permeate my painful backside. But then relieve, I came to a small place not shown on the map, therein in a timeless street I saw a shop sign, Alimention, a small grocery shop no less.
I leaned the bike outside and entered. With a basket in hand, I studied the stacked shelves looking at what I could buy without spending too much money, settling for a bag of pasta twists, a jar of bolognese sauce, yogurt, coke, crisps and a can of beer. A little boy chattered away gleefully by the side of the woman shopkeeper, then fell silent as I stepped to the counter. He was grinning up at me. Did he know something I didn't, something hilariously funny. Mother proceeded to scan the items. The little boy grinning still turned on his foot and uttered something to mother, mother smiled broadly and comments, in which I heard the word muscle. Thus I filled in on what I didn't understanding, though also through unconscious body-language. Yes what big muscles, the woman said and winks at me while regarding the boy.
Sat on a bench outside the shop eating the crisps and drinking the can of beer, lunch such as it was, it had already gone three o'clock. Two scooters came to the shop in the time Is there and other than that and the teenage girl riders and pillion passengers that giggled a lot, the street was deserted. Clouds were moving in now, bringing with it a fresh breeze.
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