The final leg, Bordeaux to Angers!

Angers!

The ten day forecast called for: Two days partly cloudy, One day heavy rain, One day thunderstorms, Four days rain, Two days rain with strong wind.  As you could imagine I was syked to be about to bike through all of it.  The one good thing coming from the storm front was that it was coming from the west creating a south, southwest wind that would aid me along the way. 

Day 14: Bordeaux to Mirambeau (74km)

 It was Saturday the 17th, and as I sat in the breakfast area of the little hotel in Bordeaux sipping on my coffee, contemplating the weather forecast, I decided to ask the owner what he thought of it all.  “Today, it won’t rain today,” responding in a way that would make a non-believer believe, not even showing a sign of doubt in what he said.  I listened to what he said as I watched the live feed images of the storm front hitting the western coast of France, and all I could do is hope he was right.  Finishing my coffee I slowly loaded up my bike and made my way out the front door.  As I had found in Barcelona, the hardest part of such a bike tour is biking out of a large city.  An hour and a half later, and many wrong turns, I was finally on my way out of the city.  Once out of the city the coast was clear, though the always-present storm clouds were looming off to the west.  As they got closer and closer I rolled the hotel owners words over and over in my head, it won’t rain to day I said to myself, trying to give myself some sort of reassurance. About two hours in I took a turn slightly to the east and it was as though I had sprouted wings, picking up the full force of the southwest winds.  This wind that I did not calculate into my time travel cut so much time off that days biking, that it actually put me in Mirambeau three hours before my accommodation was even open.  As I sat reading under the shelter of an awning, with the light sprinkle of rain coming down, I reminisced the words of the hotel owner, and was happy that his forecast was more accurate than the one presented from the use of millions of dollars of equipment.

 Day 15:  Mirambeau to Saintes (45km)

Day two of part three of my trip would set the precedence for all the days to follow…. Waking up to the sound of rain.  As I opened my eyes I heard a refreshing sound, as drops of rain broke against the window.  Then I thought, well, not so refreshing knowing that I will be biking through this all day long.  It was a short leg that day, so I looked at it as a good chance to test out the new biking rain poncho I had bought in Bordeaux.  To my surprise the rain only lasted for an hour or so and then turned to scattered clouds and light winds, not bad considering the consistency of the rain I had awoken to.  I rolled into Saintes, a small historical town, early, around 1:30pm or so, leaving me once again to wait outside for the youth hostel to open up at 6pm.  While I was waiting, I experienced an absolute torrential downpour, five minutes of nothing but rain as an over loaded cloud passed by.  I was happy when 6pm rolled around and I could unload into the shelter of the hostel room.  I set out my equipment to air out and then checked to forecast for the 19^th… Heavy rain, Strong wind…

Day 16:  Saintes to Niort (70km)

 I woke up on the 19^th and to my surprise I heard nothing, it was absolutely calm, no rain against the window, no wind battering against the side of the building.  I immediately jumped out of bed and rechecked the weather forecast for the day.  The forecast had not changed, but as I looked out the window I could make out patches in the clouds where the sun was trying to break through.  The night before I had decided I would spend an extra day in Saintes to wait for the weather to blow by, but looking at the promising conditions out my window I decided to load up and hit the road.  I knew my weather window was small, and that I would have to really peddle hard in order to try and beat the oncoming storm.  I made it almost 30km before the first set of rain clouds finally ran me down.  Due to the fact that the clouds were mainly moving from west to east, I thought I could get out in front of them, just to the north, but as luck would have it, the wind changed coming from a more southern direction pushing them right on top of me.  Day three was a full day of come and go rain clouds, which all in all was not as bad as what I thought I was in for.

 Day 17:  Niort to Bressuire (62km)

 Another day of morning rain and scattered clouds.  The ride was not hard, but I definitely noticed the slow decline in strength that was creeping up on me.  The rain, wind, and January temperatures were slowly getting the best of my body and wearing me down, bit by bit.  Once in Bressuire I was only two days from my goal, and was starting to see that all so glorious light at the end of the tunnel.

 Day 18:  Bressuire to  Doue-la-Fountaine (46km)

 I woke up to believe that I was in for yet another day of constant drizzle and wind, but to prove me wrong the weather took a turn for the better.  As I got up I could see that it was raining outside, but by the time I had my bike loaded and was on the road the rain had passed and the sky’s had open up.  I could not believe it but it was actually warm enough to ride in just my winter biking bib and a long sleeve jersey, absolutely incredible.  I knew I did not have far to bike so I slowed down my pace and soaked in the incredible sunny winter conditions I was experiencing.  I rolled into Doue-la-Fountaine nice and relaxed after such an enjoyable day on the saddle.

 Day 19:  Doue-la-Fountaine to Angers! Last day (40km)

The date was January 22^nd, the final day of my first solo bike tour, and winter bike tour to boot.  Needless to say I was ready to bike in whatever conditions I woke up to.  Due to such glorious weather the day before, I think Mother Nature wanted to have one last go at me, so she threw a day of rain my way for me to finish off my voyage.  At this point the rain was no bother, it did make navigating a bit difficult due to the fact that I had to keep stopping to clear the lenses on my glasses, and I did get lost for just a short bit on the outskirts of Angers.  But, as I rolled into Angers stopping at the cities entrance sign, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment overcame me.  There I was, alone, after traveling over 1,000km solo on bike, and I could not help but shout with joy.  I was not shouting anything in particular, or to anyone, and I’m sure all the people around looked at me as though I were crazy, but I had to release all the emotion I had inside, and all I could do was shout out with enjoyment.  Barcelona, Spain, to Angers, France, I had done it.  It has been an experience that I will remember for the rest of my life.  Along the way I have met many wonderful and interesting people, whose stories I shall not forget, nor the kindness that they have shown me.

 Thank you to all those who have supported me throughout this trip, your words of encouragement not only helped me along my way, but fueled my heart and soul.

Praying to the weather gods.

Two days to go...

Outside a chateau in Bressuire.

 

Gotta love it when the sun comes out.  The second to last day of the tour, just outside of Doue-la-Fountaine.

Wind, Fog, Rain and Snow, gotta love biking in January.

(Carcassonne freshly dusted with snow)

I am currently writing from a small little hotel located in the heart of Bordeaux, France.  It is day eleven of my journey and I have met many charismatic people and experienced the extremes of Frances January weather.  The following are just a few accounts from the last week or so...

Day 4:  Narbonne to Carcassonne (56km) January 7th

I started out the morning with the traditional nervousness I attain while suiting up for the ride.  I got a feel for the temperature when I went from one building to the next in order to grab a bite to eat before hitting the road.  The woman who served me breakfast asked in french, "are you the one with the bike?" and I responded "yes," to this I received a mixed look of pity, hope, disbelief, and are you crazy.  She went on to tell me what I already knew, "you know its really cold to be biking, and the wind is really strong today?"  I knew, but at this point I was hoping that I could just crank out the low kilometer count of only 56.  She wished me luck and we said our goodbyes.  In the first ten kilometers I knew I would be in for a full day.  The wind was a direct headwind and a strong one at that.  I made it an hour before having to add layers due to the wind chill, which at 10am was actually not that bad, I would say -5 or so.  I was concerned when the wind started picking up and I still had a good 40 kilometers to go.  Yes an hour and a half in and I had only achieved 16 kilometers, not bad considering what I was about to experience.  I made it to a small little town, Lezignan-Corbieres, where I decided to buy a little lunch to try and re-energize, at this point I still had hope of making it to Carcassonne.  Outside the little shop I ran into another biker who was obviously content to see me out in the weather conditions.  We engaged in conversation for a bit and he filled me with encouragement, the always happy cyclist outlook.  He also was the first person to mention "Le Canal," which I will bring up later. Well an hour after departing my friend, I was face to face with a constant wind of 25 to 30km/hr with gusts up to 50km/hour, I know these numbers due to the fact that I did a little research later.  The gusts were so strong that at various points along the way I would be on the shoulder and instantaneously be pushed to the center of the lane doing my best to regain control of the 100 plus pounds that I was peddling.  At one point I remember going down a hill and the wind actually was strong enough to bring me to a dead stop.  The back breaker was when a gust almost threw me into a 5 foot deep ditch! that was it, I had it, I got off the saddle and decided it was to dangerous to try and keep biking, it would be better to just walk the bike.  I was still 26km away from Carcassonne at this point, a little set back, and also very impressed with the power of mother nature, she definitely made her presence known.  About one kilometer into my now trek, I was coming up to a crossroad, and that's when I saw the old silver station wagon with a trailer!  I started to run my bike as fast as I could toward the cross road hoping to catch the drivers attention. Coming up upon the car I found an older French woman sitting in her front seat referencing me with a look of bewilderment.  "est-ce que vous etes fou?" (are you crazy?) were the first words out of her mouth.  All I could do is replay "yes," and somehow try and work a ride out of the ordeal.  She finally broke and said I could try and figure out a way to get my bike on her trailer.  She was a very wonderful person, offering me some fresh tea she had made before going out that day.  By all the random parts and gadgets scattered around the interior of her car, as well as the mixture of fresh soil and farm utilities, I would guess she was a old time farm girl.  She never warmed up to me completely, which could be due partly to my physical appearance, sometimes not widely accepted.  But she, my savior, drove me the remaining 25km to Carcassonne, where she left me at a down town city bus stop, gave me a package of crackers and sent me off on my way.  I would go on to find that the hostel I wanted to stay at was closed, finally finding a place to stay I settled down for the night. That night brought a fresh coating of snow, and needless to say I decided to take a rest day.  I would later find out that January 7th brought some of the worst storms that parts of southern France had seen in two decades, so I do not feel to bad for catching a ride.  

Days 5 through 7: Carcassonne to Toulouse

Due to Snow and ice conditions I decided that it would be safer to take the train from Carcassonne to Toulouse, only a days loss of riding.  I would go on to spend two days resting in Toulouse.

Day 8:  Toulouse to Castelsarrasin (58.2km)

After the storm on the 7th, I was a little hesitant to get back on the saddle.  Thinking on it later, riding alone in the middle of winter without the means of camping can be a bit of a dangerous endeavor.  But the eighth day of my journey rolled around, the 11th of January, and it was back on the saddle.  The day was not to cold, and best of all, no wind.  A low fog had settled in and insulated the region I would be riding in.  I will take fog over wind any day, though I do miss the scenery, it turns a would be amazingly gorgeous ride into more of a grueling crank it out, geat'r done stage, before everything gets soaked.

Day 9:  Castelsarrasin to Agen (50km)

At this point I decided that smaller distances would be better, since I have the time, why not take it.  A smaller distance also plays in my favor if bad weather is to roll in fast.  Another day of fog was all that was to be found on day 9.  I did however finally get to peddle part of the Canal I was starting to hear so much about.  Le Canal du Midi, is a famous boat canal that runs all the way from the Atlantic, connecting at Bordeaux, to the Mediterranean sea.  I road along it for 13km or so.  It is a perfect place to ride, very safe due the fact that there are no cars, but it is more of a summer route.  The possibility for ver glace or black ice next to the canal is a risk that I did not want to take.  It is quite curvy, and the possibility of ending up in the canal is not except-able in January.  

Le canal du Midi, no ice but plenty of fog.

Day 9: Agen to Marmande (58km)

Not much to report about this day.  A day of fog and a forecast of rain.  About 30km in I saw the first signs of hail so I kicked it into gear and made it to Marmande before the weather set in.

Day 10:  Marmande to Bordeaux (90km)

This proved to be the most enjoyable day of riding since I was in Spain.  I started in a thick fog, which presented itself as a field of hanging water, soaking me completely.  Two hours into the ride I would be rewarded with sun and no wind, drying me out entirely and leaving me to a perfect ride into Bordeaux.

Day 11: Rest day in Bordeaux

So yes, like I stated at the beginning of this entry I am in a little hotel located in the hart of the city.  Tomorrow I will take another day to prepare for the last leg of my tour.  320 some odd kilometers remain between me and Angers.  Up to this point I have come over 640km.  only 1/3 of my trip remains, but the weather has turned, and turned toward the side of rain, and lots of it.  As of right now, I plan to make the ride from Bordeaux, to Angers, in a six day push, but I have a feeling that it will end up being 8 days or so, until my tires set rubber on the streets of Angers....

My little goat friend who was a local resident at one of the farm houses I stayed at.

Fresh morning frost/dew

One knows that they're close to Bordeaux when the earth turns a reddish color, glazed in fields upon field of grape vines.

Barcelona, Spain, to Angers, France.... the start...

Well it's January sixth and I have just finished with my third day of peddling. A cold windy day in southern France. The Plan is, as of now, to bike from Barcelona, Spain, to Angers, France, where I will be studying this coming semester. The route I will take is more or less 1,030 kilometers or 640 miles. I have from when I left, January fourth, tell the second of February to complete my journey. This being more than enough time to physically make the ride, but the problem is that it is January, and yes it is cold. So far it has only been a bit cold and windy, no rain, no snow, which I am sure at some point I will encounter.

Day one: Barcelona, Spain, to Girona, Spain (105 km)

January fourth presented perfect weather for biking. The only problem was I was a bit unsure of my route, or at least of how to actually get out of Barcelona. After about an hour or so I was successfully in the outskirts of Barcelona and was fortunate to find another biker who had taken me under his wing in order to make sure that I got headed in the right direction. We biked together for a good 12km before parting ways in a small pueblo called Mataro. From there it was on to Girona. The riding was a bit more difficult than I had expected. This is the first time I have toured with a full load on my bike. After six hours on the saddle I was happy to see that I was approaching Girona. Once in Girona I needed to find a small street where a pension was located, cerrer sequia, a street which apparently everyone in the town had never heard of, everyone except for one old lady with a dog. Now when this lady first approached me she was on her way to recycle two bags full of wine bottles, and when she first asked me if I needed help with directions I thought I could smell the alcohol wafting off her breath. I was a bit hesitant to follow here for she seemed a bit off in the mind, but my interest was sparked, that being an interest in her story and to see if she actually knew where the street was or if she was just in need of someone to talk to. To my amazement about 10 minutes later we were at the street I had asked to find, and we parted our ways, myself thanking her for her help, and she thanking me for translating from Catalan to Castilian. Finally making my way to the Pension I had found on the Internet, I walked in to find that they had given the room, which she said I did not need a reservation for, away. lucky within a half hour I found another place that was actually cheaper and in a better location. Girona itself is really quite a nice city. It is very decorative, everything is covered in lights for the holidays, and there are about four different little artisan markets spread throughout the city.

Day two: Girona, Spain, to Le Boulou, France (74 km)

Day two was great, and ended up being a lot easier than I had expected. I had heard the night before that a large cold front was coming in so it was absolutely necessary that I make my way into France. That being because there is a mountain range that separates France, from Spain. In making my way to the mountains and the boarder I first stopped in a small town called Figueres, home to the Dali museum. Unfortunately, with my bike I was unable to enter and was left to admire the architecture from the outside. The mountain pass was really not bad, that is going from Spain, to France. If one where to try and cross going from France, to Spain, they would find a bit of an obstacle in front of them. for once one crosses over into France, it is all down hill until getting to Le Boulou. Le Boulou is a very picturesque little mountain town,  from which it is very easy to see the snow capped mountain range the Pyrenees.

Day three:  Le Boulou, to Narbonne (86km)

I woke up to a nice brisk grey morning that quickly turned to a clear cool sky.  I was making great time, but was a bit concerned about the weather.  For two days the people I had spoken with talked of a huge cold front coming in, what I didn't know was this would be my last day before the winds actually presented their full force.  Day three ended at a Fast hotel just south of Narbonne, where I could re-energize with some food and shut-eye.  I could definitely feel the effects of peddling with so much weight, my quads were starting to burn and not recover quickly enough, this is why I decided that at the next stop, Carcassonne, I would spend a day without riding.  Little did I know what I was in for on day four...

Kilometer total after three days, 265.

Doreen, all loaded up in Barcelona, ready for day one.

Outside of the Dali Museum in Figueres, Spain.

Just over the pass and into France.

Le Boulou, as stated in the picture, 

The street where the family run hotel was located in Le Boulou.