To the Islands: Saujon to Rochefort

August 20, 2016

A minor case of Dehli belly kept me close to my room this morning, so I didn't get away until about 9:30. But! The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a headwind was blowing as I set off in the direction of Marennes. There are two routes to Marennes from Saujon, one busy four lane road, and one meandering country road that is almost parallel to the first. No points for guessing which I took. The ride is along the estuarine marshes and very flat, and if it weren't for the headwind coming in from the west it would have been a sheer delight. With the wind it was only a partial delight but I still enjoyed it. Marennes is an old city with very narrow streets and as both the busy road and the quiet route converge there, it can be a nightmare to navigate. This would be a problem if one was in a motor vehicle, but for a cyclist there is always room to squeeze around stalled traffic, which I did, probably contributing to the stress of drivers trying to enjoy their holiday. Out the other side of the city, I was forced to take to the shoulder of the road as there was now only one way forward to the Ile d'Oléron. The viaduct the connects the mainland to the island has cycle lanes to either side, but the combination of the wind and the very heavy traffic mad the ride tense. Traffic leaving the island was at a standstill, and I was glad not to be going that way. It was bad enough getting onto Oléron and I found myself passing and being passed by the same cars over and over. Just as I left the bridge, I overtook a family of French cyclo-tourists, bu they quickly diverged for one of the islands numerous campgrounds. I continued head down until I got to St. Pierre d'Oléron, where I planned to have lunch.

St. Pierre has very little of the island charm that I sought. Aside from a small center city with some older buildings, it is mostly new development of secondary and retirement homes, all laid out like suburbs everywhere. After circling the center, I settled on a restaurant offering fresh fish for the special, although I cannot tell you what kind it was. The fish chalked on the menu was not the one being served I was told, and I could not understand what the waiter told me the real fish was. It looked like turbot, and it tasted just fine, if a bit salty.

Leaving the restaurant, I tried to find a calmer route off the island, at least as far as the bridge, which I was dreading. I cycled across the island to the south shore, and for much of the way back to the bridge I could follow a cycle path. Why is it, I wonder, that cycle path designers seem to think that cyclists abhor straight lines? It makes me think that these designers don't ride themselves, or if they do, they conceive the bicycle as pure recreation and not a serious means of transport. I'm sure the sinuosity of the path added a kilometer to my ride, but I put up with it, glad to be out of traffic. Reaching the bridge, I was glad to see that the traffic had thinned out and was flowing normally. The headwind of the morning was now a tail wind and the ride back to the mainland was easy, and not nerve-wracking at all. Trying to find a back road toward Marennes, I got lost ending up at an oyster farm on a dead end. Eventually though, I got onto the road to Brouage, my next stop.

Brouage is the birthplace of Samuel de la Champlain, the founder of Quebec and the man for whom the lake is named. The city of Brouage is inside a fortress constructed by the indefatigable Vauban, and it is mostly intact, pretty much as Champlain must have known it. He'd probably be a bit baffled by the trinket shops, though, and the bicycle museum where I stopped would have been a complete mystery. I couldn't get the flash on my camera to work, so all the pictures I took in the museum are blurry, but it was a very nice collection and I did want to show it to you. You'll just have to see it yourself, I guess. There were examples of just about every type of cycle, from pedal-less Draisiennes to boneshakers, high wheelers, early types of chain- and shaft-driven bicycles and modern racing bikes. There was even a bicycle almost identical to a 1903 model I have in my own garage. I had a nice chat with the owner, who had brought my bike inside to watch over it while I toured the collection. I left and bounced my way over the cobble stones and rode on toward Rochefort.

Just across the Charente river from Rochefort, in the village of Soubise, I picked up another bike path. This one promised to take me to a pont-transbordeur, a bridge which has a cable car you drive onto that is hauled across the river. Luck would have it, though, that the transbordeur was out of service for repair, and I had to backtrack to take wet another giant causeway bridge. This one was much higher than the Oléron example to allow for the passage of ships entering the Charente, and was also very busy. There are bike lanes but the traffic, which was roaring past my elbow, did not make for an easy ride across. Once more on terra firma, I headed for the center of Rochefort, and got the last room at the Ibis. A shower and a change of clothes, and I was out to enjoy a look at the town. Rochefort is a very pleasant city, not terribly old and mostly full of 18th century military buildings, long since converted to other uses. A light supper of galettes Bretons, buckwheat crepes stuffed with ham and cheese, and early to bed.

A windmill spotted on the way to Marennes.

French family on Oléron. The outgoing traffic is at a standstill.

The lantern des morts in St. Pierre d'Oléron. A lamp was placed in this when someone had died, indicating the way to the cemetery.

Lunch. Unknown fish on a puree of potatoes and sweet potatoes.

The "dreaded" causeway to Oléron. Looking back toward the mainland.

Funky artwork along the cycle path near Rochefort.

Another causeway, this one into Rochefort.

Today's ride: 110 km (68 miles)
Total: 937 km (582 miles)

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