When I pack my bike in the morning, I see that rust had developed on the chain. I suppose the cold stables were a poor storage choice. As I'm leaving, I note that I have about 90 minutes before the rain will start. My bottom bracket creaks when I'm climbing. I'll need to get that looked at soon. 

It's damp as I'm rolling through backroads, passing fields of livestock. I pass a sign announcing the start of two notable cols. Mmm, not today!

Heart

0

Comment

0

Link

Log in to comment or reply

The rain begins. Just a drizzle. I'm chilly but no real cause for concern. I've arranged a WarmShowers homestay with a family of hikers in Landorthe tonight.

The riding is unremarkable. The pushing through is important. I need to eat soon. These tiny towns I'm passing through are shuttered or have no services (besides a water tap). I come across a « Rue Barrée, 6km» sign and ponder whether I should continue. It's a downhill, so if it really is closed, I'd have to climb 6km back out then backtrack another 20ish minutes to get on the other side of the river. I roll on as I consider what to do. There's another sign at 5km out. What are the chances? I succumb to sunk cost fallacy and go double or nothing. Rue Barrée, 4km. Rue Barrée, 3km. Rue Barrée, 2km. Rue Barrée, 1km. Rue Barrée, 500m. Fuck, if I need to turn around, I'm going to be so mad. I slow my roll with bated breath. 

The road is fenced off, and construction workers are sitting around. They're going to re-surface the road, and it's currently a bunch of gravel. Okay, I can get through here. I emerge on the other side, relieved. And oh joy, a big box grocery store. I get some pastries and a jar of duck rillettes and jam for the homestay. 

Finally, I make it up to Landorthe, a little town on the hillside above Saint-Gaudens. Laurent, the father, greets me, and I meet Pierre, one of their four sons. We play card games. Then throwing a ball into a carton. Pierre wants to show me his rock collection. He has a huge collection. Everywhere he goes, he brings one back as a souvenir. He finds a little gift sachet, and asks me which one I like. I point to a purple one. He puts it into the bag as a present for me. What else? Oh dear. Roadie weight weenies, you see where this is going. I pick out a few more rocks which we look at together, then I protest that he'll need to save his rocks for other WarmShowers guests who may come through. He throws in some crumbs of a blue rock as a bonus. I tie it onto the handlebars of my bike with a grin. 

Pierre also loves to cook. He and his older brother Alexis slice up potatoes and I start cooking them on the induction stovetop. Pierre authoritatively seasons them. He cooks often with his mom. Pierre, by the way, is nine years old. 

Dinner is with three of the boys and Laurent. The boys are all enrolled in sports. They frequently hike as a family. The fourth son is on an exchange to Germany at the moment. I pick Laurent's brain a bit about the aviation industry and travelling in Africa. He wholeheartedly recommends Botswana. I run my laundry before heading up to sleep.