Fair stood the wind for France - well England actually.

Our final day dawned clear and fresh and after our last "Full French" we headed off along the canal to the sea.

The sun glinted off the water as we cycled along the sea front and we were lulled into a false sense of security. Wandering around a couple of seaside villages built up with endless blocks of apartments began to chip away at our huge margin of time allowed to get to Montpellier. Not having a course preprogrammed into the Garmin meant we had to rely on a paper map not quite detailed enough. 

It seemed we were caught on the horns of a dilemma-

Should we endlessly wander about or take the bull by the horns and ride along what seemed like the M62?  Suffice it to say we survived but only just and we pulled off at the next exit to find a seaside bike path, a coffee and some Valium. 

For once technology seemed to work with iPhones used to hook up tablets to the Internet and download a Garmin route to follow. 

Getting through the final few km into Montpellier was not the high point of the holiday, certainly not enhanced by going to the wrong Leader Price supermarket for the pick up. 

But we made it!

A lovely lunch with Grimbergen and a pichet of wine revived us. 

The coach with its enormous trailer hove into view and after much scaling of ladders to fix the bikes on

we were whisked off to Calais, passing the refugee camp in the early morning mist. 

It felt good to be back on the bikes after a smooth crossing

 with bacon sandwiches and we managed the route back to  Canterbury to Tom's sister's and our waiting campervans. 

So Verity and Jim left for home directly and Tom and Helen headed off via Birmingham to see Tim. 

What a good holiday!

The French seem to have got the important things in life about right: romance, food and wine, glorious scenery and smooth Tarmac. But they just don't seem to get the idea of a Nice Cup of Tea. So we were glad to be home. 

Today's stats km cycled 48 (+ 9 English Miles) metres climbed 183. 

A few pounds lost and thighs increased by 3cm (Jim) and 2cm (Verity)

Total for trip 1452 km. Well done!

The sun also rises

Day 20
The Sun Also Rises

Not Pamplona but Le Grau du Roi, a seaside resort 7km from Aigues Mortes, to which we cycled on the last full day of our journey. Le Grau turned out to be an amalgam of Clacton and Morecambe but with much better weather and warmer sea into which we plunged having taken a tour of the yacht marina to admire the boats and scoff at the owners.

The sea was warm and everything had a very Mediterranean feel to it. Not altogether surprising.

 After outdoor showers (an idea unlikely to catch on in Keighley) and a picnic lunch we set off to cycle to La Phare de l'Espiguette an old lighthouse on thecoast 10km away. The reason why so many other people seemed to be making the same trip by bike and car became apparent when we got there: the premier nudist beach for Le Grau.

After Helen and Verity had dragged those perennially incorrigible old lechers Jim and Tom off the beach and nailed them to the bikes we trailed back to Le Grau to attend the Bull Racing in the town's bullring, a place not altogether like its namesake in Birmingham.

The Camargue has its own form of bull fighting in which the bull is the hero and the matador risks his life. 

The object of the racing is to pull tags off the bulls horns without getting gored. Some of the young men act as taunters and provocateurs and the others try to snatch the tags off the horns - no easy matter when 350kg of revved up bull is trying to catch and kill you. 
No deaths happily but one arm injury required an ambulance and one young man had his trouser seat ripped open uncomfortably close to his more sensitive parts.

Following our trip back to Aigues Mortes we had our Last Supper in the old medieval walled town and, back in our hotel, finally consumed most of the whisky that Tom had gamely lugged through France.

Km cycled: 38
Metres climbed: nil
Mechanicals: nil
Injuries: two nasty head injuries sustained (Jim & Tom) while being escorted from nudist beach.

Into the Camargue

Day 19 Arles to Aigues Mortes

It really was a day of two halves. The morning rainy and humid in a proper vehicle (British Land Rover) with Isabelle on safari and the afternoon sunny and windy into a fantastically well preserved Medieval walled city in the afternoon. 

Isabelle showed us what we wanted to see - flamingoes, white horses, Bulls and rice. It's a beautiful area but more managed than we thought. The pictures speak for themselves. 

We learned all about the bull racing and how they lived wild out in the fields on the edge of the marsh. More of those later. 

We had lunch in Arles 

then back on the bikes which should have been a quick easy ride on to the coast BUT there was a headwind and we had to stop for a drink and buy some Saucissons of those Bulls. 

Arriving in Aigue Mortes we knew that Verity's idea of coming to the Camargue had been an inspired one. 

We found another small friendly hotel just outside the walls and enjoyed dinner in the walled city. 

Km cycled 45. Metres climbed -15. 

Two days for the price of one

Days 17 and 18

Beginning with Toms account and finishing with Jims. 

Vallon Pont d'Arc to Chateauneuf du Pape.

Looking neither to spare the rod nor spoil the child Helen and Verity had Jim and Tom out of bed and breakfasted (Fig and Nut Jam stands out), teeth brushed, bags packed and bills paid before the town was awake though not so early that they couldn't buy supplies from a surly and mustachioed lady baker to sustain us en route.
Having walked to the Pont d'Arc the previous afternoon and familiarised ourselves with the route there was none of the usual blundering around back alleys. 

We got on the road, our route out of town impeded only by a horse that had escaped from the nearby Retraite des Chevaux (home for elderly horses) and was making a bid for freedom - doubtless spurred on by memories of past triumphs at Kempton Park or perhaps Longchamps.

Passing the Pont d'Arc we then had a 5km steady uphill drag at a nearly intolerable 10% gradient, burdened as we were by luggage and imprudent overindulgence in fig jam. 

Topping out at the view point overlooking the Pont we gamely withstood the usual mixture of admiration and predictable jokes (referring to lack of power from the stokers) and replied in our usual manner: back on the bike and power away. We then met the same people at most of the 11 viewpoints over the Ardèche Gorges though, thankfully around viewpoints 9 to 11 they had given up on the humour.

 As had we, since it had long become apparent that the gentle tandem saunter down the Ardèche was in fact an exhausting 20km mountainous marathon.
We finally crossed the Ardèche at St Martin d'Ardèche and crawled beaten and hungry into Aigueze, 

, one of the 156 (why 156?) Plus Beaux Villages de France, where we repaired the damage of the previous stage with quiche and Pruneaux d' Agen. The entirely predictable effects of the latter on some of the group delayed our departure.

The afternoon proved easier: flat riding along the Rhône powered by apple pie from a café in Pont St. Esprit, served by a tattooed and multiply pierced waiter, followed by a crossing of the Rhône at Caderousse where we watched the river in spate after recent floods.
The final drag up the hill against the wind into Chateauneuf was almost unbearable but we were cheered up on arrival by meeting Julia Pearson and Keith England who had come over to meet us from Nice and who joined us for a drink at the splendid "Wine B&B" on Ave Charles de Gaulle before we all had dinner at La Mère Germaine.

Km cycled: 87
Metres climbed: 880
Mechanicals: 0

Injuries: the usual

Chateauneuf du Papes to Arles

A sense of déjà vu all over again as we stocked up with another surly boulangère and then retraced our steps of the afternoon before. Crossing the Rhone we turned Left and zoomed along the West Bank passing fields of grapevines 

being picked by hand (= expensive wine ) and by mechanical tractor thingy (= cheapo wine). Arriving in Avignon for coffee we were astounded to see the "Pont" which is in fact only half a bridge not actually making it all the way across. And this was before the EU. 

From Avignon we battled against the headwind through the flat roads arriving with lots of traffic near the big prison. Not a good start but found a handy small hotel and booked a Landrover safari into the Camargue courtesy of the helpful Tourist Info lady. 

The Arena was wonderful and we saw a scallop shell set into the stone. Yes it's yet another point on the way to Compostella. It was all set up for the last bull race of year in a few weeks. They use small Camargue Bulls and the idea is to run away from the  Bulls - sounds French to me. 

Dinner in the old city was followed by a gentle stroll by The Rhone to our hotel. 

Km cycled 77 M climbed 367 Injuries 0

The Big Sleep meets the French Connection

Day 15. Bagnols -les-Bains to Vallons Pont d'Arc. 

Being a Private Detective is never easy but today it made me wish I was a potato farmer in Idaho. Stranded in a French Spa that had seen better days listening to the rain and watching the lights of the run down hotel across the street flicker on and off had made turning myself in to the Santa Monica DA look almost attractive. 

And then the dames walked into breakfast. They were women of a certain age who no longer had to try so hard because they knew they had reached perfection. They had more curves than the climb to Alpe d'Huez and in all the right places. The one in Lycra looked like she just won a Gold medal and said she was called Verity though I doubt there was much truth in that name. The other was called Fair Helen and could have launched a thousand ships with a tilt of her chin. 

They needed some protection to get them over the mountains into the Ardeche but I didn't ask why. Lycra Lady glanced at my bib shorts and asked what I was packing and I murmured "a Magnum is a man's best friend". I was working with "Tommy" White who was in the Skipton racket for years before things got too hot and he went into the construction industry "legit." But I never asked what  went under the concrete floors he laid. He asked them if they really  wanted to go all the way?  Maybe a bit further, they murmured.  

The dames were happy to ride stoker so we revved up the Orbits and climbed steadily up the side of the ravine. After yesterday's storms that was a Lot of river. We climbed past old castles dominating the skyline which got me thinking about old smuggling routes and what exactly was in the ladies panniers. 

After we topped out over the col we piled on the warm gear and swooped down the curves through the mist to Villefort and coffee in a gambling dive in the old town. It was there I realised the girls were into something stronger than coffee when I saw Helen tossing down the biggest Paracetamol I'd ever seen and Verity was into matching drugs with her Lycra. Ibuprofen for sure. 

The guide says a steep 1km out of town but that was an understatement and we struggled up to the next col and the sign saying we were over the watershed and  heading at last for the Mediterranean. Of course that way lay Marseilles and whatever dirty smuggling racket they were into. 

Down we went seeing our first olive trees and the air felt suddenly warmer when "bang!" I looked around but it was only what the Limeys call a Yorkshire flat. Too mean to replace the worn rear tyre it had blown right through into the tube. Without a word Tommy pulled out a new tyre and tube and fitted them as slickly as a crooked lawyer getting his clients off on bail. Then down through spectacular limestone scenery making Malham cove look like aunt Mabel's rock garden. Vineyards looked luscious on either side and then we swooped down to see the Ardeche in full spate. 

I was just thinking nothing could go wrong when I saw the two cyclists on short bikes just coming up fast behind. Carbon frames for sure. I looked across at Tommy and gave him the nod. Just as we approached the roundabout by the Zone Artisanale we made the move. Carbon short bikes just don't cut it with two heavily laden tandems as we leaned over and eased them into the path of the oncoming lorry. One thousands bottles of Cotes de L'Ardeche made short work of them. 

As we booked into the gorgeous old mansion turned small hotel I managed a sneak look in the dames' panniers. So that was the racket!  Super sized paracetamol, Ibuprofen and statins for all those exPats on the Riviera.  No wonder those girls needed protection. And who better to provide it.......

Km cycled.97 M climbed 915. Mechanicals rear tyre/tube Injuries Verity fell over with bike on top of her. And Tom hit ankle with pedal. ..otherwise looking good. 

Rest Day in Pont d'Arc. Day 16

Day 16

Rest day in Vallon near the Pont d'Arc.

Arrived just in time yesterday. As we thought about going out for a meal an enormous storm started, thunder, lightening, torrential rain, power cuts the works. It lasted 8hrs.

Next day, up later than usual & out to find out about canoeing....  The river Ardeche is in spate all water sports cancelled. 

The woman in tourist info even suggested it would be dangerous to walk on the road to view the pont we ignored this advice & as usual set off in the wrong direction adding a km to our walk.

The route took us to a river crossing on a  causeway usually the river is dry but today it was a roaring river. More back tracking to walk along the road beside the raging Ardeche. 

The road was scattered with debris, rocks & in places a thick layer of mud making the going rather slippery particularly if you favour Crocs as your walking shoes ( Tom). 

The pont is magnificent. 

 The beaches were covered by flood water.

Returned via the same route & tried a degustation but the grower wasn't interested on serving us despite Jim engaging him in polite conversation about the workings of the mechanical grape harvester, perhaps because

he heard we were on bikes or he was depressed about the weather.

Back to the hotel to replace J&Vs other tyre & inner tube. 

Now has full set of new tyres & inner tubes on their bike since leaving the UK. Perhaps Verity's teachers pension could be well spent on a new bike.

T &J had gone out on the tandem earlier in the day to buy said new tyre & left some solo bikes standing on the  hill "Chapeau " I say.

Km cycled 6 for T and J injuries 0 

The Beast of Gevaudun

The Adventures of Humphrey Hodgson in the Kingdom of France
by Thos. Smollett, Esqre, Surgeon

Chapter the XIVth

In which our Hero learns some Alarming News - a novel Conveyance - a Storm in the Mountains- safe Deliverance

Before retiring for the night we were appraised of some alarming News. The Diligence which was to have conveyed us to Mende has been destroyed and all of its occupants and the horses by the Beast of Gevaudan, an enormous Wolfe which has terrorised this Country over many months.

M. le Curé, a man of most excellent parts and a possessed of a keen and Philosophickal intelligence, had himself witnessed the recent outrage on the coach. While we listened in rapt and horrified Alarm he told us how he had seen the Beast descend on the coach and seize its Occupants. Whereupon the Beast did set a table laid about with fine Damask Linen and did set about his neck a white Napkin and did then devour the Coachman and his Postillion, two horses and the four passengers and did then release a most pretty and polite belch at the Conclusion of his Repast.
My Valet Thomas did spend much of the night in Discourse with the Blacksmith and on the Morrow we did discover two most pretty Conveyances which had been fashioned from Iron and Leather. In place of the horses he had determined on using the only other source of motive power at our disposal viz that supplied by the firm young thighs of Mistress Verity and her Maid Helen,

 a most pleasing and comely Wench, who would sit behind the Captains of these fine Machines and, by a most wonderful and ingenious Contrivance, cause the Wheels to rotate by means of a Chain. Viewing this elongated Cycle-Machine gave Humphrey the pleasing Conceit of calling it a Tandem. And thus it might be possible to attain the Heights above Mende.
We did leave our Lodgings with many an "Huzzah!" shouted by the Populace who gathered to watch our Progress and to marvel at the Achievements of Natural Philosophie.
The Blacksmith did say in parting that he had heard say of similar Machines which had descended in a Race into Mende just this Summer and that they were made of Carbon. We gave no Credence to such a fanciful Notion as a Cycle-Machine hewn from Coal.
We made excellently rapid Progress through the hamlets of Monastère and Chirac and put in at a Coaching Inn in the town of Marvejols where we recruited our Spirits and Bodies with fine Coffee before setting forth on our Ascent of the Col de Goudard.

 By a new fangled form of Measurement the locals tell us that this stands at 1022 metres - which is about 2400 Cubits in our Estimation.
With the women powering us up the Hill we soon attained the Height whereupon Thomas did set about effecting a Portrait of all standing before the Summit marker a most difficult Undertaking as at every Moment the roaring Gale threatened to carry away the Canvas.

Then began a most perilously swift Descent to Mende made more Fearful by the absence of any form of Restraint on our headlong Progress. We arrived at the Expedient of employing a form of Grapple or Anchor such as is used in His Majesty's ships. And thus we arrived in Mende.
After a Halt for Refreshment we sallied forth towards Bagnols-les-Bains, a town not unlike Bath, where Gentlefolk may go for a Cure for the Gout and the Ague.
On this Passage we were Overwhelmed by a most Prodigious Torrent of Rain. Thunder and Lightning crashed all around the Peaks and we became Fearful for our Lives lest we be Drowned in the Deluge or perhaps taken Unawares by the Wolf.

Our Host was waiting anxiously for us and conveyed both us and our Steeds into the warmth. This hotel has clearly seen better Times as is Shewn by the evidence of the bathing Pool which is now employed for the Storage of a Soupe made of Peas.

And so to Bed.

Km Cycled: 65 (48 Leagues)
Mechanikals: adjustments to Tom's rear disc brake and Jim's front brake.
Injuries: Nil