Cote Du Rhone: Lyon to near Carpentras.

March 17, 2015

Saturday

The "Club Cyclo Tourismo" shop window. The bike is a 1911 Peugeot.

I went for one last walk down the hill and around the old town full of all what makes France, France. The pavement cafes along cobbled streets and squares with age-old shuttered windows-three and four storey facades. People milling along and many visitors. I stop at a rack of post cards. They drew my interest because of a photo from the nineteen sixties of a young Frenchman siting astride an Enfield motorcycle, while another looks over the bike with interest and a girl sits on railings alongside. There are also cards of cars: a Renault 16, 1973: a big upturned boat-shaped Citroen D12 from 1966: and lots of 2CVs.

There are also English pubs with names, Elephant And Castle, and amusingly, The Smoking Dog, with a picture of a dog complete with whiffing pipe. Later I go to one called simply "Beers", with no pretends of being anything else than a place servicing good Belgium beer. Though pricey. I go for a half litre glass of wheat beer with a name, Dupont that I haven't seen before, costing seven euros twenty. It tastes as good as it looks, but at this price, it is a only once in a blue moon expenditure.

I have another beer back at the hostel. This time Kronenbourg. I sip halfway down and set the glass on the table and have reached that point where the mind starts racing and reflecting back. Returning to November 1990, my first time in Lyon. The hostel I stayed in then was in the south of the city at the end of Boulevard Unis Stats by the motorway, not as well located as this, up the hill with a magnificent view over the city centre; but, I remember a Californian, a great guitarist; also a French-Algerian; a guitarist too with a good voice: he would sing a great "Father And His Son" by Cat Stevens. Both kept us well entertained every evenings long into the night. The former didn't want to return to America and had asked about being house-musician in jazz clubs in town. He was learning French and at the time, having problems getting French residency.

Sunday

Well I'm on the road this morning feeling pretty rough, planning on riding out of the city on the right-bank of the river; but first I've to get to Confluencia, where the Saone converses with the Rhone; as, the riverbank street from the old town on this side is a one-way system toward me. I follow the lined off cycle-route over a bridge and along the other side contrary to the straightforwardness of my plan. Then on reaching Confluencia with a big futuristic glass-building museum, I follow the cycle-route further over the Rhone assuming this way will lead south out of the city.

The cycle-way follows wide streets, past a university campus, sports grounds, turns this way and that before coming to autoroute with a big blue signboard "Grenoble. Geneve"; nice if there was such a sign showing where I'm supposed to be going, as I feel if I go further I'll be lost. I double back to Confluencia and crossover the bridge I should've.

Another thing that is bugging me this morning is that dry creak from the crank-arms on each revolution. Ki-ek ki-ek, it goes, meaning the bottom-bracket is worn and on the way out. This bracket though has done well mileage-wise; whereas, the bracket the bike come with was cheap rubbish, as was the crank-set. It bent. I think Dawes is a great bike spoiled by low-end Shimano bits in an attempt to sell more units. Gradually this bike is being upgraded: the next thing to go is that front-derailleur; it's spring is stiff and any amount of spray won't loosen it up. Consequentially I'm stuck on the middle chain-ring; not a disaster, as I've seven sprockets at the rear with three I can't use because of extreme chain angle. On flat roads I like fast spinning, which keeps wear lower than when powering round a heavy gear and I can get up most hills, slowly cranking on the innermost thirty-two sprocket.

Le Cote Du Rhone: along the Rhone, gazing across the river on the south-side of Vienne.

I stop at Lidl around midday before the Sunday afternoon shutdown. And as the day wears on my worn feeling turns to tire-ness. Perhaps it's not having drunk those beers last night, but the result of being up until after midnight every night while in Lyon, then up again at seven next morning, to journal and do the other things necessary when not actually cycling on a cycle-tour. For most of the afternoon I'm on the riverside cycle-path. There are lots of other cyclists it being Sunday, including a group I call "Club Wobbly Wheelers" Young men in a mix of lycra and street clothes on a Sunday jaunt in a slow wobbly formation; chatting and laughing. One that speaks English asks where I'm from. "Ireland", I reply. "Do-bline?" he then asks.

Back on the D86 later on and not liking it. There's a foot-shoulder and a constant stream of Sunday afternoon cars swishing by. Around six, over an hour before nightfall and having originally wished to cover a longer distance, I ride down on the riverside an old road layby hidden from the new road by a thick hedge. Here there's a wide stripe of grass where I set up the tent.

The Mighty Rhone splits into two channels in places, leaving islands in it's path. I shot this from a bridge coming off one such island.

Monday

I kind of expected a car to drive into the layby during the evening, but none did. No one disturbed me as I slept well until approaching daylight, when I dreamt of a small barking dog. I whipped the dog away with a stick until seeing the dog's woman owner coming at me. Not sure what to make of that.

On the road eight-thirtyish. On the Via-Rhona which turned left off D86 a little ahead of my campsite and away from busy Monday morning traffic to tranquil meandering through wooded riverbank with the tweeter of birds. The weather glorious Spring, clear and sunny after yesterday afternoon's grey haze.

I ride into Tournon around ten and cycle through narrow streets until finding a boulangerie to buy the now usual second breakfast, two pain au raisons; then, return to the riverside thoroughfare D86 through town: to a café for coffee and to write my notes, which I's too tired to do the evening before.

This and next shot in Tournon Sur Rhone.

I lose the cycle-route onward, though D86 has a wide enough shoulder now. I think the path crosses a bridge as I meet up with it later in the day coming back off a bridge. Most of the traffic has disappeared, perhaps on the autoroute, approaching Valence. On the outskirts of town at a roundabout, I turn left off the main route and a block along pull into a Intermarche hypermarket; something I was on the look-out for today, as I'm out off fuel-alcohol and hypermarkets are the place to find it.

COMMERCIAL BREAK. This man fires his camping stove from a one litre bottle found in all hypermarkets. This particular one cost 1.84 euros.

One for serendipity. I come upon a small car in the centre of a big square apron of asphalt. And a McDonalds.

Once I've packed all my shopping outside the hypermarket, it is after one, but I ride on without eating for at least another hour, seeing an orange blob ahead, then catching a slow cyclist in orange hi-vis vest on a sit-upright bike which I pass without speaking and just then see the perfect picnic spot on the other side. I cross over and up a bank to a grassy carpet of blue spring blossom and trees to sit underneath.

My tiredness of yesterday I thought I'd renemy through diet as well as more sleep. And resolve to eat something completely different everyday from now on, so the body doesn't get tired of the same sandwich (a convience as there's no cooking) and gets a more balance diet. Today I steam veg and add them to a soup which I've also put a can of lentils in once it has simmered for a few minutes. I also have bread and Port Salut cheese and a couple of cups of red wine, so perfectly balanced nutrition.

An old Diesel locomotive outside the Ardeche Railway Museum.

D89 south of Valence with a good shoulder, straight and smooth without a hill insight. My kind of road.

Enjoying the sun while waiting for lunch.

Today I'm simmering vegetable soup with lots of veg added and a can of lentils. A kind of vegetarian stew.

Moving again at four on a little back road leading on from my picnic spot. Riding behind three girls on horses fairly galloping on. Then they stop and regroup. Sitting the horses with their backs to me while chatting, I ride easily round the right-side careful not to spook a horse.

A little up the road is a stone bridge on the left over a tributary stream from the mountains the way follows. On this bridge I re-join D86 and return to the riverbank in Voulte Sur Rhone and pass through a string of towns ahead, until the last where I meet Via-Rhona again coming off an old steel suspension bridge.

It was at this point last Summer I followed the cycle-route, thinking Is continuing south by the river, but instead went into a valley away from the river; eventually to climb to Privas where the street switch-backs it's way up through town on a steep mountainside. Then onward and upwards to top out at over a thousand metres. How I cursed that day.

I see the same path today and avoid it, staying on D86 which still has a shoulder.

The afternoon has become dull and hazy and beyond the hill ahead, is a colossal column of vapour sky-high and spread out in a grey-dark blue cloud up there, like some unearthly mamouth thin stemmed tree. A power station.

I round the hill and the next place Cruas, I reach as it grows late, is little more than a village sandwiched between a cement factory to the north on the way in and cooling-towers to the south, in the view of sight at the end of the narrow thoroughfare through whiffing up that column seen earlier. Here I turn left and pick up Via-Rhone which goes alongside the power station boundary fence just as late sun glints on the top rims of the towers and colouring the steam crimson. A good point in the day to reach this far as the low light suits taking photos. Though big spots of rain come in quickly from the north west and I hurry to put the camera away and ride on. But it is only a skiff and an orange rainbow arcs. Inside the boundary fence is an office block and car park half full of cars; toys on the floor with the giant structures looming around. And outside is another car park with a dozen campervans pulled in for the evening; on the other side of which, is a parkland strip along D86. I look to camp in here, but it is a little muddy. I follow the cycle-route further and turn the corner of the power plant, where there's a water channel off to the right with a firm grassy track alongside and enclosed in an avenue of trees. Perfect camping.

Tuesday

Leaving my campsite, I turn right along Via-Rhona, then right again to follow the cycle-route upon the river-bank flood defence-south.

Awake to a grey day. There's spots of rain when out answering nature's call and rain rattles the tent fly-sheet when back inside. Looking out again when it goes quiet, the nearest cooling-tower blocks out most of the sky beyond the tree avenue over the water channel with track alongside where I'm camped. Steam whiffs out like an inferno, pumping up skyward in a thick column of cloud.

Via-Rhona south goes tight along the river on top of a flood defences, making me think that the mighty Rhone must've posed a real flooding treat before it was contained by this thick earthen embankment. Further I cross a bridge onto an island. An old suspension bridge with two stone built towers reinforced with iron perhaps two-hundred years old, but the original suspended walkway, likely ropes and planks has been replaced with modern steel cable and metal walkway.

Later I return back over a bridge to a chateau town and pick up the cycle-route a little out of town again, where it meanders round and through crop fields before coming to a dead end with no alternative but D86.

In Boung Saint Andeol, it is after midday when I stop to stock up on food for the day on the way into town, then ride into town for coffee.

Onward the D86 looks to no longer be going the same way I'm going, and after checking the map, I decide to leave it. It continues onward south toward Nimes and I turn east, crossing the Rhone at Pont de Espirit, and follow D994 to Bygone, taking D8 to Carpentras therein. The rest of the day is on fairly heavily traffic road; straight and narrow through thick trunked avenues of beech trees.

Later I write on entering Provence: yes, boring rows of bare sticks (the grape vines) stretching towards blue-grey humps and ridges of the Aples and since early afternoon the snowy top of Monte Ventoux peeks through dark blue gloom with occasional drops of rain towards dusk. I find the only possible campsite two hundred metres off the road along a hedge, the only bush or tree for a long time, providing a degree of cover. I eat, floss my teeth, write my notes, then lay down and read The Old Patagonian Express, but shortly doze off. Later waking with terrible stomach cramp, laying awake most of the night thereafter feeling like some-one is standing on my adominen and puzzled to the reason why.

Today's ride: 257 km (160 miles)
Total: 1,403 km (871 miles)

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