September 15, 2011
When Words Fail...
Words fail me discribing how much I hate this road I'm on today. I am now in the part of the French riviere which tapers south west towards the Pyrennes. I wish, that I'd taken an inland route, instead of passing through one resort town after the other; all of which look as though they've sprung up since the nineteen sixties. There is no countryside left here: all is unnatural and artificial. I've spent the day finding the lease busy road, but even the Department roads here are like autoroutes and often barred to cyclists. And the traffic polution can't be overlooked, making it sticky and grimey by noon.
Starting in the morning; I broke my camp between the canal and tidal lagoon early, and set off on an as yet empty road. I rode south to a place, a circle on the map called, Grand Roi, and found the road onward from this town led me onto an autoroute: barred to cyclists, though it was a department road on the map, but it was also a links to the A9, the main autoroute hereabouts south to Spain.
Despondently, I cycled back into town, to the tourist office which was shut, but then I realised that it was only eight o'clock.
Looking at the map again, I saw a circle called Lunel which had a thin white road leading to it, but wondered is there a way pass the autoroute to get to this road. Then on the way to find out, while cycling toward a traffic light, I saw the Canadians on the opposite side of the avenue waiting at the lights. They waved and I crossed over to join them. One of them had a good map; a two kilometres per centimetre map: showing as much detail as necessary; and one of them pointing at the map, showed me a cycle-route south to Montpellier and onward to Sete. They had to ask though, at the camp-ground they'd stayed at in town, the way to the start of this cycle-route.
So from nine o'clock, when the Canadians rode on, to noon, when I reached the city of Sete, I felt the day was going well. The cycle-path followed the Mediterainian for quite a bit, then the Sete canal; though, on cycling into some of the resorts, the cycle-path was discontinued and I'd a hell of a time finding the cycle-path again on leaving these towns. And there was a stretch of busy road approaching Sete where there were no alternatives.
Another displeasing aspect here, unlike the rest of France, I can cycle all day without passing a supermarche; not so great, as I need lots of cold drink. And there are few trees or little shade; the heat reflects up from the bitumen, having an irritating effect on sunburned legs when I stop.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention a puncture; when cycling over a long bridge, I felt the back tyre go soft and had to ride while the tyre was wobbly and fast deflating to the other side; whereupon, I'd to uncouple the trailer and set about repairing it, enclose as I was by concrete barrier on a shouder width shoulder while trucks swished pass at close quarter, blowing my repair-kit and bits about with their draft. The kindness of the French though shone through: a small car stopped in the shoulder behind me and an oldman wearing a reflector vest got out and stood behind his car waving at the approaching traffic; which, he managered to warn and slow while I pumped up the tyre and put the wheel back in and coupled up the trailer ready to go again.
Lunch was sitting in the shade in-front of a supermarche, hidden in a side-street on the way into Sete, eating a ready prepared tub of couscous, washed down by a can of cold beer.
The afternoon was on more busy road; there were cycle-paths part of the way which where discontinued going into resort towns. I think the planners weren't thinking about the loaded-up long distance cyclist, but intended these cycle-paths for motorhome people that drive down here with bikes hanging on the back of their vehicles.
This evening, I'm in a campsite in a big resort called Adge just short of the city of Beizer, which I'll cycle through in the morning and thankfully thereafter I'll be cycling inland.
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