October 2, 2019
Eymet
It was a day of renewal. I left Emilion on a quiet cloudy morning, winding up and through the famed vineyards. It was the beginning of harvest, with small working groups hand picking the grapes, ferrying them in large cone shaped receptacles that they wore on their backs, and finally depositing them in a truck trailer.
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It rained much of the morning, but it was not a heavy rain – just enough to put a bit of chill on. I crossed the Dordogne River at Castilon La Rataile, and then rode along the left bank before stopping for coffee in a little epicerie in Pessac-sur-Dordogne. When I returned to Vivien George, an elderly woman was standing on her porch next door, eyeing my bike. She said something about the bike, and after a lengthy conversation of which I understood about half, I learned that she was interested in whose bike it was, that her name was Alette, that she had six daughters whose name all ended in …ette, and how much work it was to raise such a large family. She was a dear, and insisted on removing her apron before letting me take her picture.
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Leaving Pessac, I soon encountered the dreaded “Route Barrée” and “Deviation” signs. It’s always a toss-up as to whether the signage applies to bicycles as we can often slip through barriers that effectively block cars. A definite No-Go is a bridge that is closed, but as there were no bridges on my route and vehicles were coming from the blocked direction, I ignored the sign and pedaled on. It was quite a distance to the roadblock, and as the miles passed and the Route Barrée signs increased in frequency, I grew a little concerned at the possibility having to backtrack quite a long way. However, I spotted a youngish man in the courtyard of a small winery who reassured me that bikes could pass through the roadblock. When I arrived at Route Barrée, it was clear that this was neither a recent nor a temporary roadblock. The hillside on what was once a small road seemed to be eroding, narrowing the road to a small path. All of the hillside trees appeared to have either fallen across the road, or were destined to do so. While stopping for a photo, I looked up and found myself directly under a very large tree tilting my way – time to move on.
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5 years ago
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I soon pulled into the bastide town of and came upon some cyclists on a Butterfield-Robinson guided bike tour. I had seen them in Saint-Emilion on Monday, so stopped to chat a bit and ask where I might find somewhere to eat. One of their guides directed me to a recently opened small café down the street, in which I spent a very remarkable and enjoyable hour. I was warmly greeted by a quartet of folks sitting at bar, and when I couldn’t find anything I liked on the menu, the woman behind the bar said I was welcome to eat my “bike lunch” in the bar. So I did, ordering a Schweppes to go with my bread and cheese and enjoying some ice cream for dessert. The folks at the bar were very chatty, especially Loic who gave me a Sainte-Foy-la-Grande sticker and key chain. Fortified by the kindness of strangers, I left the Dordogne River heading south for Eymet on what was now a partially sunny day.
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The afternoon was a delight. As I left the river, the hills rose gradually and the views expanded. The sun and clouds combined to cast interesting patterns on the landscape and I was happy rolling along and thinking about life on a bike. I reflected on how my tour this year differs from my trip in France last year, Melo Vélo Meanderings. One big difference has been the fact that I am traveling alone for the entire time whereas last year my friend Carolyn joined me for the middle third of the trip.
A second difference has been the absence of other touring cyclists. Other than the day between Rochefort and La Rochelle/Ile de Ré, the number of pannier-bearing bikes I’ve encountered can be counted on one hand. Last year I rode mostly along major cycle routes - such as the Eurovelo 6, Canal de Deux Mers, Via Rhona – that are frequented by large numbers of cyclists who, as we know, are usually willing to stop, chat, and exchange stories of where we’ve been and where we want to go. This year, I am routing myself along small roads where I often see day riders but not those in it for the longer haul.
I love the trailblazing high I get from making my own routes, but when traveling solo it can sometimes get a bit lonely. I reflected on how important it is for me to connect with strangers during my travels, whether it be other cyclists, other tourists, or local folk. These ephemeral encounters, the exchange of stories, elevate my experience and feed my soul. Echoing what Scott Anderson posted a few days ago, the virtual encounters and sharing of stories among the Cycle Blaze community can provide a similar sustenance. After three days in Saint-Emilion where I barely spoke to anyone, it was a real joy to spend some time interacting with the local folk - even if we did not fully understand one another the connections were genuine and rewarding.
The camaraderie continued when I arrived in Eymet, a medieval bastide village that has more Brits than any other town in France. The hosts at my chambre d'hôte were a delight and I had a very prolonged and engaging conversation at dinner with the couple sitting at the next table. I fell asleep quite easily, a contented and happy camper.
Today's ride: 43 miles (69 km)
Total: 701 miles (1,128 km)
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5 years ago
5 years ago
I totally agree! I keep discovering more treasures to explore and revisit, wanting to dive deeper and deeper into this wonderful country and its people. I've seriously considered applying for a long-term visa.
5 years ago