September 15, 2019
Chateauneuf-sur-Charente
A quest for water
Today was going to be a scorcher, and it was my longest day of the trip. I should have gotten an early start, but my host and I agreed on breakfast at nine am. Nothing was there when I went downstairs at 9, only another guest looking for the same thing. After a few minutes, the host arrived with baguettes and croissants, and soon the three of us were setting the table, making coffee and enjoying breakfast on the terrace. I got off before 10, but barely.
A small climb out of Verteuil-sur-Charente allowed a look back at the Château – I took some photos and was on my way. For the first 10 miles, the route roughly paralleled the Charante River, rolling up and down between villages. The up and down terrain, combined with the heat required many rest stops in the shade. In addition, it was Sunday, which meant few, if any, options for food and, more importantly, water along the way.
The route crossed the Charante River in Mansle and I was back in the rolling open farmlands so familiar from yesterday. I found an open bakery in Saint-Amant-de-Boixe and bought some bread and a pastry. Desperate to find some shade, I settled for a curb across from a church, where I enjoyed a long drink and my almond croissant. I explored the church a bit – turns out it is one of the largest churches in Charente, the Abbaye de Saint-Amant-de-Boixe.
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Shortly after my little break, I rolled through Montignac-Charante where there was a big flea market going on just outside town. It was a treasure trove for me: cold water, a Great Dane, and someone in a University of Iowa tee shirt. Leaving the flea market, I crossed the river and once again climbed up onto farm terrain – and for the first time I spotted fields of grapes. I had entered the land of premium Cognac grapes, which are always white.
I was basically following/skipping around several named cognac routes in the area. These routes pass through the vineyards as well as several of the Châteaus where the cognac is distilled. By now, the temperature was in the mid-nineties and I was much more interested in finding water than in sampling the local product. At one point, I passed what I thought was a potable water dispenser – but could not figure out the dispensing part. Or, more likely, it was something not for public consumption. However, I soon came upon a cemetery. It during one of my self-guided trips on the lavender plateau that I first learned that French cemeteries always have drinking water. Steve Miller has also related that useful bit of information to the CycleBlaze community. Thus encouraged, I found the open gate, filled my bottles, and had a wonderful descent to Champmillon where I stopped in a churchyard to fully enjoy some rest and refreshment.
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5 years ago
It’s a pump for the old water system. Before the advent of indoor plumbing, many villages (most?) had an underground water system connected to a spring. There were pipes or tunnels which connected a series of cisterns. Above each cistern or « puisard » was a pump for public use operated by turning a wheel. The water in the systems was not treated and so is not considered potable by modern standards and most of the pipes have fallen into disrepair. Where they still operated one can use the water for gardening or washing clothes in the lavoir.
Cheers,
Keith
5 years ago
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5 years ago
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The river village of Saint-Simeux had a welcoming sign for cyclists, and I was smiling as I came to a BicoK sign, directing me to what I thought was a little roadside bike refreshment station. There was a wooden trailer of sorts and several people sitting in the shade drinking beverages. Feeling the need for some friendly conversation, I stopped and asked if they had anything to drink. A nice young man went inside the trailer and came out with a large bottle of cold water. We sat in the shade and chatted a bit, he was quite interested in Lewis and Clark and in the French history in North America. Some other folks came by, at which point I realized that the trailer was not a bike refreshment truck, but a “petite maison”, or tiny house. Christopher, my nice water-bearer, was one of the founders of the company BicoK that produce and sell these houses. I can only attribute by state of oblivion to the heat.
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5 years ago
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When I finally arrived at my lodging for the night, I discovered that they had a swimming pool. The fact that I had brought no swim suit did not deter me, and as soon as I had checked in I dove into the pool – in my bike kit. Finally refreshed and then clean, I faced the fact that the only food in town was take-out pizza. Still over 90 at 6:30, I walked into town and ordered my pizza, wandering through this rather sad little town while my order was readied. By the time I got the pizza back to my room, it had become as hard and dry as the day.
Today's ride: 39 miles (63 km)
Total: 216 miles (348 km)
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