In Apt: the Saint-Saturnin ride

October 4, 2024

Today’s another excellent riding day weather-wise. It’s a little on the cool side in the morning and we have a lunch reservation at one at the cafe that turned us away yesterday, so the layout for the day looks similar to yesterday’s: an early afternoon lunch followed by a digestion break and then a late afternoon walk and bike.

The morning is a different situation though and after several fairly tame days in a row it’s time for another good story, don’t you think?

A trip to the doctor

I’ve been getting steadily better since I began the antibiotics, which I completed a week ago now. Over the last two days it feels like I’ve plateaued though, not getting worse but not really improving either. I’ve been fever-free and my energy level is better but I still have symptoms: a mild congestion and most annoyingly a case of laryngitis that’s slowly improving but still with me.

So, it’s time. I’ve had Apt in mind for this eventuality ever since we made these bookings in the south because we’re here for three nights and the hospital’s an easy one mile walk west from here. The plan is that I’ll walk over first thing after breakfast and check in at their 24 hour emergency room and hopefully find a short line.

The timing is good for us personally because we have that lunch reservation I need to be back for but otherwise the morning is free; and I’ve been meaning to get out for a look at the town itself anyway.

It’s still pretty quiet when I leave the apartment shortly after eight. Streets are empty, shops are closed. The walk’s a straight shot west, then there’s a rise at the end that gets me up about a hundred feet above the valley just as I come to my turnoff to the hospital complex.

Not much happening in Apt yet this morning.

The view to the south. There’s a bit of low-lying fog still burning off but otherwise it looks like we’re getting another beautiful day.

The hospital complex isn’t well marked, so I just follow the phone’s navigation instructions to what it says is the emergency room. The room is all but empty when I enter and the reception window is closed, with the sign stating it opens at 9. A surprise, but that’s only fifteen minutes from now so in just sit and wait; and while I wait I email Rachael to update her on the situation, as I’ll do repeatedly throughout the morning.

A nice, clean place. Nice that I’m here early before the crowds arrive. I shouldn’t be walking home in the dark this time.

Nine comes, the window opens, and the smiling young lady who greets me informs me that I’ve come to the wrong place. This is the general admissions window, not the emergency room. She doesn’t speak English at all and can’t really describe where the emergency room is but pantomimes that it’s just around the corner. So I leave, walk around the corner and find another entrance nearby, and another window staffed by another smiling young lady who doesn’t speak English either.

But this isn’t the emergency room either. She starts trying to explain how to get there then gives up, calls someone to let them know she’s leaving her post and then escorts me on a long walk through the heart of the hospital to its far corner where she leaves me with the real emergency room receptionist.

She admits me, takes a copy of my passport, has me provide my address, phone, email address and so on, and then gestures for me to take a seat in the waiting room with two others already seated there. Five minutes later a third smiling young lady who at least speaks a slight amount of English calls me in. She’s the nurse, asks why I’m here, I show her my diagnosis and prescription from my emergency room visit two weeks ago, so then she takes my temperature. 97F, normal, so she regrets to tell me I’m not having an emergency and they can’t see me now. If I want to see a doctor, I’ll have to come back after 8 PM when they apparently take all comers.

I appeal against that verdict without success, but then she suggests I go to a pharmacist. I tell her they won’t fill a prescription without a doctor’s approval, but she gives me an address of a pharmacy near our place that she says will because they have a doctor there.

So I walk back to town, noting on the way that it’s a shorter walk this time because the emergency room is on an unmarked road on the near side of the complex.

The sun’s higher up when I walk past the Hotel de Ville for the second time.

There’s just starting to be some street activity now. That green cross is the pharmacy I’m after.

I’m greeted at the pharmacy by my fourth smiling young lady of the morning with little or no English skills. I show her my diagnosis and prescription, but she soon leaves to return with a man who I presume is the pharmacist. He does speak enough English to tell me that he’s sorry but they can’t fill a prescription without a doctor’s approval. I’m stuck in a loop.

So I tell him what I was told at the Emergency Room and that they said I could see a doctor at this specific pharmacy. “Oh, do you want to see a doctor?” He leads me into a small room in the back, sets me down in front of a machine, gives me some basic instructions, and leaves me to it.

Medadom: your portal to access a doctor in France remotely. Good to know. They probably can’t take an X-ray or MRI to diagnose pneumonia or a separated shoulder, but it’s better than nothing.

I sit in front of the screen for about the next forty minutes, first registering myself into the network - giving my ID information and so on - and then I’m told I’ll receive a texted confirmation number on the phone I provided before completing the registration. Unfortunately I’ve given our primary phone number which is Rachael’s, so I call her to let her know to watch for it. She reads it out to me, I complete the registration, and I’m in. Next I’m prompted to make payment with a credit card for the consultation: €25. And then I’m informed that a doctor will see me in between 20 and 40 minutes, and I’ll be texted just before the session starts. So I call Rachael again to alert her to be on the watch for another text. While I wait I examine the array of instruments below the screen: thermometer, blood pressure cup, ear and throat scopes - all remotely viewable by the doctor so you can probe yourself and he can see the results. And then I just sit in the virtual doctor’s office when finally Rachael calls back. It’s time.

It’s not another smiling young lady greeting me this time. This one’s a gruff-looking older guy with a grizzled beard; but like the others he doesn’t speak English either. So it’s a pantomime consultation - I hold my throat, cough, indicate I have no fever, and then hold up my diagnosis sheet so he can read it. “Oh. Need more drugs. I will write” he says, and the screen goes blank and then displays a message to sit and wait while my prescription is written. A few minutes later it’s replaced with instructions to print the prescription, which comes out at the pharmacist’s desk.

While my prescriptions are being filled the pharmacist says it was a good idea to see a doctor and soon sends me out the door with a shopping bag filled with €56 worth of drugs: another week’s supply of amoxicillin, I think in a stronger dosage this time; prednilosone tablets (a steroid); budesoride, a steroid inhalant; and cough syrup which I don’t really need.

Afternoon activities

So that’s the good story part of the day. The afternoon is spent in the usual way - lunch at the cafe, and then Rachael has planned a walk into the hills to the south while I take a loop ride to Saint-Saturnin-les-Apt, a town in the hills to the north. Lunch is good, but a slight disappointment to Rachael. The cafe has a limited menu of the day with only two offerings: a vegetarian frittata and a wok bowl with chicken. We both take the wok bowl and follow it up with pieces of lemon and chocolate cake and then retire to the room until it’s nearing four.

Rachael leaves first, on an errand run. She’s been alarmed that her phone doesn’t seem to be charging so she’s off to make the rounds at three different electronics stores, finally learning that her phone charges fine if slowly (it doesn’t have a high-speed charging option for some reason) but that the charger has to be inserted correctly - apparently there’s an upside and a downside that isn’t obvious or marked when you look at it.

So that’s a big relief but it ties up about an hour of her time and leaves her just enough for a hike up to the striking perched village we can see from town: Saignon. It’s not as long a walk as she’d hoped from and she can’t afford to stop for many photos, but it’s still a great walk for her - very scenic, and her foot doesn’t bother her at all. So that’s good too.

Saignon. It really is a dramatic place, but one that’s probably better seen in the morning when the light is better.

It gives her great views across the Calavon valley though. I’m off somewhere on the other side, where the afternoon light is better.

Heart

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I took way more photos than Rachael of course - partly because that’s what I do when I’m off on my own biking slowly, and partly because there’s so much worth taking a shot of. Saint-Saturnin once I get up there is a striking place with really wonderful views; but there’s plenty else to see along the way also.

And as usual, I cut it too close and find myself racing down into the valley trying to beat the sundown. There must be some kind of law at work here like the laws of thermodynamics, such that the duration of a slow ride always expands to fill the available time window.

Nice, but sort of boring. Great weather, great ride, great views and sights, but somehow I’ll bet I remember the trip to the doctor longer than the rest.

From the viaduct leaving town I get a nice view north to the entrance to Combe de Font Juvale.

Also a nice view zooming in on Saint-Severnin, my goal for today’s ride.

I’m up above of the valley now, looking back across it to the south.

Zooming in on that town in the shot above. This is Saignon, the village Rachael is hiking up to.

There’s a woman walking at the front here, leading her five horses by their individual leads held in her left hand.

I liked the ziagzag shadow pattern cast on the vines here.

Horse chestnuts are turning, always one of the first to go.

Villars, a second nearby village I’d intended to explore if I hadn’t run out of time.

A last look at Villars before coasting back to the valley.

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Today's ride: 19 miles (31 km)
Total: 3,953 miles (6,362 km)

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Steve Miller/GrampiesToo bad we are not nearer each other or you could pass your cough syrup on to Steve who has now progressed to the cough your lungs out phase of his cold.
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1 month ago

Scott AndersonTo Steve Miller/GrampiesUh, oh. You two need to get south fast. It’s very therapeutic.
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1 month ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesTo Scott AndersonWe're trying as hard as we can, honestly.
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1 month ago

Jonathan HechtSo you’re right in the heart of where Peter Mayle's novel, Hotel Pastis, takes place. If you haven’t ever read it, you should pick up (or download) a copy. It’s really a fun read. One storyline is about the trials and tribulations of a corporate executive who escapes the rat race to remodel an old penitentiary in Provence into a hotel. The other storyline is about a bumbling gang of would-be bank thieves who plan to use bicycles in their heist. Apt and Saint-Saturnin are front and center. And weaving the two storylines together is masterful.

In the meantime, stay healthy.
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1 month ago

Scott AndersonTo Jonathan HechtYes, I knew we were in Mayle’s country, though I’ve never read him for some reason. Rachael has, and coincidentally one of his books was on the shelf in our B&B last night and I considered cracking it open.

Say - we’ll be back in Portland for ten days at the end of November. Any chance for a coffee meetup?
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1 month ago

Carolyn van HoeveGreat story about the doctors visit! Our healthcare system has a long way to catch up. Hopefully now you’ll finally get yourself clear.
We’re in Perpignan tonight and you mentioned you were going to be heading here sometime soon. So close, yet so far. It would have been so great to have finally met you. One day.
Toulouse tomorrow, a train back to Paris to drop off our bikes and then the long trek back to New Zealand. Best tour to date. The Spanish Pyrenees very special!
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1 month ago

Scott AndersonTo Carolyn van HoeveYup, so close but not so close. We’ll be there in about two weeks. I’m so glad the tour worked out so well for you. Which way did you come across the Pyrenees? Have a safe flight home.
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1 month ago

Kathleen ClassenI appreciated the story about Rachael’s phone. It reminded me of the time Keith’s wasn’t charging well and we took it in. The charging port was full of lint from his pocket! They had world’s tiniest vacuum, vacuumed it out and problem solved. We thought he was looking at an expensive repair or a new phone. Instead, no charge!
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1 month ago

Rachael AndersonTo Kathleen ClassenWhat a great story! It turns out that the direction I plug the charger in controls whether it’s super fast charging or regular charging. My old phone that Scott is using always does super fast charging.
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1 month ago

Carolyn van HoeveTo Scott AndersonFrom San Sebastián via Sos del Rey Catalico, Uncastillo, Ayerbe, Jaca, Torla, Ainsa, Campo, El pont du Suert , Tremp, Coll de Nargo, Sant Llorenç de Morunys, Camprodon (all your favourites).
Another classic train story today! Simple journey from Perpignan to Toulouse. On the train having negotiated the stairs. A problem down the line, everyone off at Narbonne with bus replacements. We decided to cycle to Carcassonne (great ride) and then reassess. Arrived at 6pm, trains resumed. The next one an intercité, more stairs to negotiate to the platform. Pulling up just as we get there, Bruce racing with both bikes down to the bike car at the end, I toss all the bags into nearest carriage. Whistle is blowing, Bruce still sprinting, and fortunately the guard comes to the rescue. We were so far apart on the train we couldn’t reach each other and I had the bag with his phone etc. But fortunately he realised Toulouse was the next stop and there were plenty of healing hands. Ha, ha what a day! It’s a TA story!
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1 month ago

Scott AndersonTo Carolyn van HoeveWow, what a great run for you. I’d love to bike that route again, but we’d have to be several years younger to enjoy it. I still look back on it as one of our best tours.

And a great train story! Congrats on making the train and finding each other at the end. It’s a reminder to think ahead and talk about what you’ll do if you get separated and one of you can’t board or get off.
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1 month ago