Return to Bouziés

October 25, 2022

Last month before leaving Paris and heading south for this current tour within a tour, I read a NY Times Newsletter by Frank Bruni in which he included a piece about “Landslide,” the classic Stevie Nicks song that appeared on the 1975 Fleetwood Mac album. I had a vague recollection of the song - the mid 70s remain pretty much a blur for me as I drifted about central Missouri after college, taking the first faltering steps toward what would become a life in science. But compelled by the article, I followed the YouTube links to the song performed by a young and older Stevie Nicks (in the older version, the song starts 4:45) .

I took my love, I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

'Til the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I've been afraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm getting older too

The song has stayed with me throughout the past four weeks, and when the refrain unexpectedly rose to my consciousness, I found myself softly voicing the lyrics, pondering what it all meant, and wondering why it had struck such a chord. On the face of it, I am getting older and, some would say, bolder. But cycle touring, especially solo touring, encourages both the mind as well as the body to wander, and this past year I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on the “seasons of my life” – my past choices and the changes that await me in the coming years. In the present, I keep pedaling - pushing back the line of decline that inevitably awaits.

Today I was bound for Bouziés, a return to the small village where just weeks ago I reveled in the company of fellow CycleBlazers. During the brief interlude, fall had settled in. Though the days still reach unseasonably high temperatures, they are bracketed by cool nights and a morning chill. Fallen leaves line the road, while those still clinging to tree branches have largely lost their luster. Just as the year is winding down, so too is my tour and my time in Europe. Today is the penultimate cycling day, and in eleven days I will depart Paris for the US, a country that is mired in divisiveness and violence. The end of my tour seems to have come so quickly, like a landslide.

It was a cool and overcast morning when I rolled out of my Auberge at 10:20 this morning and right away faced the only real climb of the day, a modest ascent that took me up though the woodlands and back down to the Lot River. At the top, I met Marie and Etienne, two cyclists from Nantes out for a week tour of the Lot. Marie was a ball of energy - she was the first to crest the hill and talked non-stop as she rapidly shed her outer layers of clothing. Etienne said nothing, offering only a smile for the camera. We headed off in opposite directions as I descended into a wider, agricultural area of the Lot valley.

Since I was a child, one of my favorite fall activities was kicking my way through piles of leaves that had been carefully raked to the curb of my suburban streets, or had accumulated in rural roadways. I loved hearing the crackle of dead leaves and watching them float up and away, leaving a bit of chaos in my wake.

Is it a coincidence that the apple is a both a sign of fall, and an agent of our supposed fall from grace

Marie and Etienne - out for a week-long tour of The Lot

The clouds had lifted a bit by the time I crossed the Lot River near Larroque-Toirac, resulting in scattered sunshine and wonderful patterns of sky, clouds, and trees reflected on the surface of the slow moving river. I crossed back into the Parc Naturel Regional des Causses du Quercy, and stopped for a look-about in the town of Carjac, a fairly large town filled with plane trees and cafés. I considered stopping for a sit-down midday meal, something I used to do fairly frequently in past tours around France, but I'd lately gotten out of the habit in favor of a picnic lunch on a town bench or along the roadside. Today, my recent routine prevailed and I found a nice bench by the Office of Tourism where I enjoyed a nice view of the Eiffel Tower while I munched my two-day old sandwich.

I was bit transfixed by the patterns of sky, clouds, and trees reflected on surface of the slow moving river.

An almost defiant display of fall colors

Lunchtime view of Eiffel Tower in Carjac

Beyond Carjac, I stayed on the main D663 road, which sometimes followed closely alongside the meandering river while at other times taking a more direct route across the loops. I was once again cycling alongside the high cliffs of the Lot Valley, with frequent views of the both river and wide valley. It was glorious.

Along the Lot River, looking back at Carjac

I like the vertical pattern of farm fields juxtaposed with the horizontal flow of woods and mountains. You could almost plot the location of the shed on an X-axis and Y-axis.

Back cycling along the high cliffs along the Lot River valley

Just before Larnagol, I left D663 and crossed the river to quieter D8 that ran along the south side of the river. I savored this stretch, a slow roll along small roads with a dearth of traffic and a bounty of memories. I soon came full circle to the junction where I had turned south and bid à bientôt to my friends and the river. It had been an extraordinary two weeks of joy, laughter, and awe.

One can't resist a photo of a bicycle in a tree

Apparently, Vivien George is not petite enough - where are the Bike Fridays when you need one!

A lock on the Lot, just upstream of Saint-Cirq Lapopie. This is the last photo of the day as I picked up condensation on the lens that didn't dry out until the following morning

Soon, I was back at Les Falaises in Bouziés, a much quieter venue this time around. Almost all the support staff had departed, but the restaurant was open and the Rocamadour salad was as tasty as ever. I was amused to note that I was booked in Scott and Rachael’s old room , their ghosts haunting me in search of a zoom camera, I suppose. Tomorrow I’m off to Cahors in what I’m sure will be a bittersweet final ride down the Lot River, final for this tour, that is.

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Today's ride: 34 miles (55 km)
Total: 3,502 miles (5,636 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	11
Comment on this entry	Comment	9

Keith KleinHi,
So if you really don’t want to go back…….?
Retrospection goes with the age, but if you look around there are still things to be done that will add to your story. I myself have spent way too much time thinking about the past, especially lately with this damn disease. I still find time to work in my shop (atelier) , my latest project being a pair of lamps with stained glass shades for our bedroom, and I read and listen to music with the same fervor as always. And thinking of Fleetwood Mac there’s another tune that comes to mind so Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow.
Dylan Thomas speaks for me:
Go not gently into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light!

Cheers,
Keith
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2 years ago

Susan CarpenterTo Keith KleinThanks Keith for your wise words and perspective. Glad you are back in the atelier working on another beautiful Keith Klein piece. Give my best to Susan
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2 years ago

Scott AndersonSuch a reflective, contemplative post, Susan. As we close in on our own bittersweet return next month it’s very easy to relate to this. Two things in particular struck me though. Those photographs! It’s a beautiful gallery that complements your words well. You’re really doing that camera proud, and I’m almost sorry it’s in the mail now.

And the song. It’s one of my favorites (as is Frank Bruni - I appreciated that piece also). I especially like the version by Stacey Kent that I must have listened to a hundred times by now.
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2 years ago

Rachael AndersonWhat a beautiful write up with the reference to the song and the photos are great!
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2 years ago

Kathleen JonesLovely post, Susan.

Landslide is a great song. I’m also partial to the Chicks’ version.

It is so interesting to listen to younger/older versions of iconic songs like Landslide. I happened to look up Stevie in wikipedia recently and hadn’t realized she wrote that song when she was so young. Then I watched a much later performance with Lindsey Buckingham on YouTube. It’s like comparing Welch’s grape juice to fine wine.

Another great aging to compare is Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides Now. She put out an orchestral version in 2000. The contrast in what life wisdom she was able to add to her song is tremendous.

And that’s what we’re doing more of now these days, aren’t we? 60s and 70s are times we’re facing the reality of our declines while, for me anyway, enjoying how far I’ve come, what I’ve done and what is yet to be done. What you and the Andersons and Suzanne/Janos and many others on this site do shows that we may slow down but we ain’t finished by a long shot. Onward!
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2 years ago

Bill ShaneyfeltLovely trip down the Lot.

There's a Lot to be thankful for! :-)
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2 years ago

Susan CarpenterTo Scott AndersonThanks Scott - for many reasons, the last days of a long cycle tour always shift my perspective and I start taking a longer view rather than just being in the moment, day to day.

Having the camera along these last days was a real bonus - merci, merci! Glad it got back to you safely.

And I'll have to dig up the Stacey Kent version of Landslide, along with Kathleen's fave, the Chicks version.
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2 years ago

Susan CarpenterTo Rachael AndersonThanks Rachael!
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2 years ago

Susan CarpenterTo Kathleen JonesThanks Kathleen - and I definitely have no plans to stop pushing myself. I spent career surviving the challenges of academic research science, and the challenges of planning and executing a cycle tour, with it's inherent uncertainty and surprise findings, seem to be a good surrogate that keeps me engaged, fit and happy. So yes, I'll keep pedaling, elated with what I can do and not worry too much about what I can't.

I'll have to look up the Chicks' version - Scott's fave version is Stacy Kent's
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2 years ago