Tarare to Lapalisse

Tuesday December 14, 2010

My campsite for the night in Tarare, France.

I actually slept quite well overnight. I just had to lie like a mummy, on my back with my legs together and my arms tight against my body, I couldn't move around much or I would have lost heat and gotten cold.
After surviving the night though, I felt like I could survive any type of weather I would encounter, I was fearless.

The first thing I do after I properly wake up is sit up in the tent, and as I did this, my head brushed the inside of the tent and made a scraping sound. I realised that, instead of the usual condensation, the whole inside of the tent was covered in ice! 

Ice on my beanie that was stuck to the inside of my tent.

I hadn't expected that. Hmm, it really was a cold night. I'm not sure what the minimum overnight temperature was, but it must have been less than -5 °C considering it was -3 °C at 8 pm yesterday evening.

My campsite for the night in Tarare, France.

Frost on my tent.

Frost on my handlebars.

Frost on my handlebars.

I ate the usual cereal for breakfast outside, with my gloves on. There was lots of ice in the long-life milk, it was half frozen despite the fact I'd kept it inside the tent with me.
I packed up and hopped back on the bike. I was keen to get going actually, because I needed to warm up again. As I rode up the main street of Tarare, I noticed the digital display on the outside of one of the shops reported the temperature: -3 °C, and it was almost 10 am. The road was steadily climbing and I could tell from the contours on my map on the iPhone that I still had a lot of climbing still to go.
Not long after I headed off, it started snowing! The first snow I'd seen in Europe - it was going to be an interesting day. It kept snowing on and off, drizzly at times but heavy at other times. 

Snow! Climbing on the N7, Les Grandes Roches, France.

Snow! Climbing on the N7, Les Grandes Roches, France.

It was pretty cool riding up the mountain in the snow, and because I was exerting myself riding the loaded touring bike up the mountain, I was actually quite warm and even had to strip off a few layers. 

A view from the climb near Chez Parié, France.

A view from the climb near Chez Parié, France.

Riding up the N7 approaching La Chapelle, France.

Near the top of the climb, on the N7 approaching La Chapelle, France.

Near the top of the climb, on the N7 approaching La Chapelle, France.

Eventually I got to the top after an hour and twenty minutes. It was very windy and cold!

Col du Pin Bouchain, in La Chapelle, France.

At the top of Col du Pin Bouchain, in La Chapelle, France.

Ice on the barbed wire. At the top of Col du Pin Bouchain, in La Chapelle, France.

Ice on the barbed wire. At the top of Col du Pin Bouchain, in La Chapelle, France.

Then it was a long (and cold) descent for the next 25 kilometres, all the way into a town called Roanne. I took a long stop at the supermarket there and stocked up on food, and made and ate lunch there as well, consisting of the usual baguette with salami, tomato and cheese.

It was still snowing when I headed off from the supermarket at about 2 pm. And back on the bike, I noticed my front tyre was going flat - what a drag! I did a lap around the town in search of the tourist information centre, which was always a good place of refuge because it was heated, there were toilets, water and people who gave you useful information - just about everything I needed. 

The water in my drink bottles kept freezing due to the cold temperatures.

I was completely fed up with getting punctures and still in search of that elusive tyre to replace the original stock tyres which were constantly puncturing, so I asked the staff at the information centre where the bike shop was, then rode off to find it a few blocks away. Unfortunately it was closed because the owner was off on his lunch break, so I had to wait around for 20 minutes or so for him to get back. 

The bike shop is in the centre of the picture with the blue and yellow sign. In Roanne, France.

While I waited I hopped on my iPhone and researched hostels in Paris. I decided to book one online there and then, which was the first time during the trip so far that I'd actually booked a hostel in advance.
In the bike shop I asked if he had the tyre I needed (26x1.5) - unsurprisingly he didn't, the closest one he had was a 26x1.85, which was a much larger diameter than I wanted, but considering how difficult it was going to be to repair a puncture in the middle of nowhere in the snow with fingers so cold that I couldn't move them, I decided I'd purchase it anyway, €16, it would have to do. I rode back to the tourist information centre to change the tyre in the warmth and shelter, and took the opportunity to charge the iPhone as well. Although I charge it as I ride with the dynahub, it only charges quite slowly so if I use the phone a lot and don't get many hours of riding in, then the battery gets down a bit.
While changing the tyre, I frustratingly accidentally pinched the tube, so had to repair another puncture as well, so it ended up taking a while. 

About to replace the front tyre in the Information Centre in Roanne, France.

I also ate some more bread, and got stuck talking to a few old French dudes who were admiring my bike. 

Two French blokes admiring my bike, in the Information Centre in Roanne, France.

Their English was poor, but with effort we were able to converse. They asked me lots of questions and I showed them some photos and talked about the tour I was doing; they were quite impressed, and particularly fascinated by the bike. They told me how the two of them had done a cycle tour of New Zealand when they were younger. They seemed like they'd been best mates for most of their lives. 

They also mentioned that the snow today hadn't been forecast so it was quite surprising that it was snowing today. Lucky me!

By the time I was ready to go, it was almost dark. I knew I had to keep going because I was running out of time to get to Paris and then London before my plane would fly out. However the two French blokes insisted on showing me where the hostel was, and they walked me there. We investigated whether there were vacancies, of course there were at that time of year. It was going to cost about €20 for the night, and I was very tempted to check in, but I somehow resisted the temptation. I thanked the two Frenchmen kindly for their help, and was on my way. I should have planned it better though, I could have left Lyon earlier a few days ago, then I could've ridden all the way to Roanne yesterday and stayed in the hostel last night instead of camping in the freezing temperatures of Tarare.

Anyway, I headed off, stopped at the bike shop again because I remembered I was running low on patches, then I rode out of Roanne in the dark, and the snow continued. I was on one of the main roads, the "N7" called Route de Paris as there didn't seem to be any other options, and it was very busy with no shoulder; it seemed to be a major truck route too. I felt particularly endangered! I rode for another couple of hours and stopped in a town called Lapalisse at around 8 pm - tea time. It was a nice little town with, had a good vibe, a stream ran through the middle and the town looked pretty covered in a blanket of white snow. The only shop that was open seemed to be the pizza/kebab shop, thankfully! I ate a delicious pizza and large chips for €10, good deal. I stayed in the comfort of the shop for a while, there was a group of young blokes hanging out in there as well, but I wasn't interacting with them. I did some blogging on the iPhone.

I decided I would camp in Lapalisse, so I briefly explored the town and found a large park by the river. It looked like a perfect spot to camp, with lots of trees and grass. I found a spot which was somewhat sheltered by a tree and fairly out of sight, set the tent up there and got to sleep just after 12:30 am.

My route for the day, Tarare to Lapalisse.

Overview of my route so far from Rome.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 95.24 km
Average: 16.9 km/h
Maximum: 48.1 km/h
Time: 5:37:30

Total Ascent: 841 m

Total Descent: 933 m

Chuzelles to Tarare

Monday December 13, 2010

My campsite for the night just off the road in Chuzelles.

Today was an interesting one because it was different to usual. I was rudely awoken at 9:30 am by rubbish collectors collecting rubbish from the bin right beside my tent.

It wasn't too far to Lyon, and I quite enjoyed the ride into the city, I was getting along at a good pace. It was a little hilly to start with, but more downhill than uphill, and then flat leading into Lyon.

I arrived in Lyon at about 1 pm, and located the Tourist Information centre, which was in a large central city square. 

A square near the city centre of Lyon called Place Bellecour. It is the largest clear square in Europe and the third biggest square of France.

It was so nice and warm in there, plus they had free Wi-Fi, so I was in no hurry to leave. At this point I was very tempted to catch the train straight to Paris, because it would only take a few hours, whereas riding would take several days. Of course this wasn't the first time I'd faced this temptation, but I hadn't used the trains yet (other than day trips), I'd only used my bike and ferries for the entire trip so far, more than three months. The deciding factor would be whether there were still Air tickets available for their show in Paris. I hopped online and discovered the tickets were sold out, so I decided to ride the rest of the way to Paris. Before I left though, I surfed the net for a few hours and talked to a good friend, Ruth, on Skype; she was telling me that she wasn't invited to Mel and Boosh's wedding (some friends from uni), but she wanted to go, so she was scheming with another good friend of mine, Al, who was invited to the wedding. Their idea was to pretend to be going out so that she could be his "plus one" and then snag an invite to the wedding as well. Interestingly that later turned into an actual relationship, and what followed was messy situation and a long story that I won't go into.

Eventually I left the comfort of the information centre and stopped by a kabab joint before continuing my journey. From Lyon, I was deviating from my former northerly trajectory of the past several days and starting to head in a north-westerly direction to cross a bit of a mountain range and head towards Paris. The road turned uphill suddenly over the other side of Lyon as I started riding out, with an initial gradient of about 13%, and continued climbing up to an elevation of 273 m. By this stage it was getting dark, and I'd made barley any progress for the day, less than 25 kilometres! So I'd have to keep riding into the night to cover more kilometres. I couldn't slack off because I only had about ten days before I would have to catch my plane out of London.

The roads were quite busy, and I felt somewhat endangered. And as I rode on and up further into the mountain range, it got colder and colder. I kept an eye out for the digital displays they have on the outside of some of the petrol stations and shops; it was -3 degrees Celsius at 8 pm! I was in a town called Tarare, at an elevation of about 400 metres and was rather taken aback by how cold it was, and not really prepared for it. It was time for tea though, so I rolled around the little mountain town investigating my options for a meal. As you might expect, I stopped in at the pizzeria and bought a big delicious pizza. Unfortunately there were no tables to eat in, so I ate it just outside the pizza shop, lest the pizza get cold before I ate it. I actually had to eat the pizza with my gloves on, because my hands were so cold! Crikey!

Pizza for dinner in Tarare, France.

I decided I didn't want to ride any further up the mountain range, because I didn't want to get any colder. Also I had another puncture in the back tyre, so I stopped at the McDonald's nearby to repair it. 

Repairing another puncture at the local McDonald's in Tarare, France.

This was one of the more difficult punctures to repair because my hands were so cold, and thus my fingers didn't work properly, didn't have any strength. I took advantage of the warmth inside the Maccas though. I haven't been a fan of McDonald's for a long time, I haven't eaten it for more than ten years, but I was actually starting to warm to the place (or rather, the franchise). They'd helped me a lot during the trip, with all the free Wi-Fi and tables I'd used for lunch, and toilets. I started feeling a bit guilty about not supporting them, I was really just using them, never buying any food from them. It's like having a friend help you out but never offering them any help in return, never returning any favours. I consoled myself by the fact they are a huge franchise and probably making a huge profit. 

After repairing the puncture, I moved to a nearby park and set up the tent beside a playground not too far from the main street. The grass was covered in frost, and very crunchy. 

Other than the obvious problem of keeping warm, I discovered the cold also posed a few other unforeseen problems - the toothpaste was really hard to squeeze out of the tube (okay, not the biggest problem in the world, I admit), and the water in my drink bottles was freezing solid! What was I to drink?! I was starting to worry about whether I would survive the night or not, my sleeping bag was nothing special, just a synthetic one I'd had for years and only rated at zero degrees Celsius. So I put on every piece of thermal clothing I had, seven layers, and then I laid everything else I had over me in an effort to keep warm. I placed the pizza box underneath the tent to minimise the amount of heat lost to the ground, and I used all my clothes either laying them over the sleeping bag or using them as my pillow. I even used the tent bag, sleeping bag bag and sleeping mat bag lying over my sleeping bag for an extra layer of insulation. I basically built a cocoon around me, and hoped for the best - I was optimistic. And as usual I had my trusty red beanie pulled down over my head and face as I nodded off at around 11:30 pm.

My route for the day, Chuzelles to Tarare.

An overview of my route so far from Rome.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 70.49 km
Average: 15.4 km/h
Maximum: 48.9 km/h
Time: 4:33:03

Total Ascent: 816 m

Total Descent: 667 m

La Coucourde to Chuzelles

Sunday December 12, 2010

My campsite for the night in La Coucourde, France. Note that the tent was positioned purposefully to minimise it's resistance against the strong prevailing wind, which is coming from the direction the camera is facing in this photo. The road (the N7) is just off to the right.

After a long day yesterday, and a late night, I slept in until 11 am this morning, and it took me two hours to get going. It was still really windy, with a headwind again of course. 

It's hard to gauge the temperature from the photo, the sun is still shining, but it was actually 4 degrees Celsius here. This is taken on the N7, Les Blanches, between Saulce-sur-Rhône and Loriol-sur-Drôme, France.

Those clouds are looking very ominous! On the N7, Les Blanches, between Saulce-sur-Rhône and Loriol-sur-Drôme, France.

On the N7, Les Blanches, between Saulce-sur-Rhône and Loriol-sur-Drôme, France. 

My very low average speed during the day of 14.3 km/h attests to the strength of the constant headwind I had - I can jog at that speed, although probably not for eight hours and forty minutes.

It was another boring day of riding; at least the roads were quiet. I stopped in a town called Valenze for the usual lunch of sandwiches with salami, cheese and tomato. 

The park I stopped in for lunch. Note the park lamps are on as it's starting to get dark. In the Esplanade Champ de Mars, in Valence, France.

I was pretty happy just relaxing there for a while, but it started getting dark, so reluctantly I had to keep going.

I was about due for a puncture today, since I didn't have one yesterday, and sure enough as I rode along, I noticed my front tyre was slowly going flat (such lousy sub-standard tyres!) What a drag! I was nearby a town though, so I thought I'd try and keep it going until I found somewhere to eat, and then repair it after that. So after a few quick stops to pump more air into the tyre and keep it going, I stopped in a town called Saint-Rambert-d'Albon and since all the pizzeria's were closed by that time (about 9 pm when I got there), I went with a kebab instead, since that was about the only thing that was still open. I think it was the first kebab I've eaten on the trip so far in three months, and it was only €4.50, delicious! I don't know why I haven't been eating more kebabs before, they would be tastier and easier than the salami, cheese and tomato sandwiches I've been eating! I think anything would have been delicious at that point though, since I was so hungry.

A kebab for dinner. I had the newspaper to read too but it was all in French, so I just looked at the pictures. In Saint-Rambert-d'Albon, France.

Repairing yet another puncture, it's become quite a routine. In Saint-Rambert-d'Albon, France.

After fixing the puncture, I continued on and rode really late into the night, and ended up stopping at a sub-standard campsite because I couldn't find anything better, and I didn't have the energy to keep looking for anywhere better. The spot where I stopped seemed to be a truckies rest stop, there was one semi-trailer parked just nearby. I couldn't find a smooth patch of ground to pitch the tent, it was all lumpy, but I figured it didn't matter because I wasn't going to have any trouble sleeping anyway, when I finally laid me head down at 4:30 am.

The route for the day, La Coucourde to Chuzelles

Overview of my route from Rome so far.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 124 km
Average: 14.3 km/h
Maximum: 40.9 km/h
Time: 8:39:58

Total Ascent: 798 m

Total Descent: 623 m

Cheval-Blanc to La Coucourde

Saturday December 11, 2010

My campsite for the night, on Chemin Saint-François, in la forêt domaniale du Luberon, near Cheval-Blanc, France.

My campsite for the night, on Chemin Saint-François, in la forêt domaniale du Luberon, near Cheval-Blanc, France. 

The massive rock behind my campsite, beside Chemin Saint-François, in la forêt domaniale du Luberon, near Cheval-Blanc, France.

I actually couldn't sleep properly during the night because it was so cold. It's the first time that's happened this trip. The sun was shining, yet it was so cold! But likely a sign of things to come, I figured, as the European winter intensified and as I headed further inland and further North from the equator. My sleeping bag was just a synthetic one, a Roman, rated at zero degrees Celcius and I'd had it for years, so things would get interesting if it got much colder.

It was another rather uneventful day, but I covered quite a few kilometres, despite having a strong headwind for most of the day. And not only was it a headwind - it was a cold headwind, and this made for rather unpleasant riding. And now this is where some better trip planning would have been advantageous. See I was doing a bit of research on my iPhone about a good route to take up to Lyon, and came across a few blog posts written by people who had cycled the Rhône Valley before. As it turns out, there is supposed to be a strong northerly prevailing wind down the Rhône Valley, and I was heading north up the Rhône Valley which meant I was going to be stuck with a direct headwind for the next several hundred kilometres! Ha, great! That was going to make it a tough few days, and would slow me down a lot. The blog posts I was reading all recommended riding south down the Rhône Valley so that you have the prevailing wind on your tail. Too late for that now though. I was actually considering catching a train straight to Lyon, which would only take a few hours, whereas it was going to take several days on the bike! And that would also mean that I might be able to get to Paris in time to see the band Air, who I had discovered were playing a show there, consisting of a first set playing the Virgin Suicides, and a second set of various tracks from their back-catalogue, supposedly. Air are one of my favourite bands, so it would be good to see them. I could still possibly make it by bike though, if I progressed well. And so, because I'm stubborn and wanted to complete the whole trip by bike, I dismissed the train option and continued on the bike.

I stopped for lunch in a town called Orange. I must have been on the late side of lunch (as usual) because there was no-one else in the restaurant other than the chef and waiters, and the three of them were eating their own lunch together while I was. I guess it goes without saying what I ate for lunch - pizza of course, for €8.50. The waiter I think originally thought I was English, but when she asked where I was from, they were all so excited when I told them I was Australian! 

Anchovy pizza for lunch at a restaurant in Orange, France.

Anchovy pizza for lunch at a restaurant in Orange, France.

Afterwards I took an "internet stop" when I found an unlocked Wi-Fi network, and then made a supermarket stop to stock up on supplies. There was a group of young kids out the front after I'd bought my groceries who took quite an interest in where I was from, and what I was doing, and they fired various questions at me before I made tracks.

The view from the N7 road in Momas, France.

At one point I stopped at the side of the road for a quick rest, sucked some sweetened condensed milk and ate a few figs, and the wind was blowing a gale. As I rode on I listened to ABC's AM and PM podcasts to keep up with the news in Australia, and the world. Then a little later on I stopped again and ate three tomato, cheese and salami sandwiches for tea, and I noticed I only had one fingerless glove sitting in my handlebar bag. I realised the other must have blown away in the wind when I took the fig-and-sweetened-condensed-milk stop earlier. Damn, I'd had those trusty and comfortable gloves for years, and I was sad that I'd never see that glove again, it had come so far with me. I took consolation in the fact that I probably wouldn't need those fingerless gloves for the rest of the trip; I was currently using the winter full-fingered gloves since it was so cold.

I took another internet stop in a town called Montelimar, and continued on, keeping my eye out for a good spot to camp. It took quite a while to find somewhere, but eventually I found a suitable enough area of grass beside a bit of a car park beside the road. My campsite didn't provide much shelter from the wind, and it was particularly windy. I snapped the tent pole while setting up the tent, but luckily the tent came with a little piece of repair pole which I taped on over the snapped pole to repair it. It took me a long time to set up the tent because it was so windy and because I was exhausted, so I didn't get to sleep until just before 2 am.

The days route, Chevel-Blanc to La Coucourde.

An overview of my progress from Rome so far.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 128.59 km
Average: 15.4 km/h
Maximum: 33.8 km/h
Time: 8:18:35

Total Ascent: 618 m

Total Descent: 670 m

Marseille to Cheval-Blanc

Friday December 10, 2010

The view from the hostel balcony in Marseille, France.

I woke up at around 9:30 am and took advantage of the hostel breakfast, which consisted of bread rolls and jams and tea. I ate lots of rolls and had a good chat to the Belgian girl, Sophie. Then because I was still hungry, I also ate some of my own cereal, followed by some more rolls and chatted to the Scottish bloke, Mark Sheridan. Then I analysed the maps to work out a suitable route out of Marseille, which looked like it would be difficult. I'd be leaving the coast today and heading inland, towards Lyon and then Paris, and eventually back to London. I'd had to come to accept that I wouldn't make it to Spain for lack of time, so that will be left for another trip. 

I also talked to my sister Rosanna on Skype, before I packed up and carried my panniers, and then my bike, down the three levels of stairs. I was about to load up Florey (my bike) when I realised I had a puncture in the front tyre. What a drag! So I had to fix that before making tracks, and changed over the rear brake pads while I was at it, since they were almost fully worn down.

Repairing yet another puncture at the base of the hostel stairs.

Before heading off, I had a good chat to the beautiful young hostel manager. She talked about her background and travels, and about Timothy McGeever, and why he was the way he was. She seemed very good at analysing people, and I enjoyed hearing her perspectives. 

I eventually got back on the road at about 2 pm, without much motivation which is apparent from my tardiness in getting ready to go. I made my way out of Marseille, riding pretty slowly, climbing for about 15 kilometres up to about 247 metres above sea level according to my iPhone. Some of the roads were very narrow, and with lots of traffic, which didn't make for very pleasant riding. It was also very windy, and started getting very cold too!

The days' riding was uneventful. I stopped for lunch/tea at about 5:30 pm, and devoured a few sandwiches with salami, cheese and tomato, plus lots of cake and some sweetened condensed milk.

Back on the road I just cruised along, and listened to podcasts (mostly from the ABC like PM and Late Night Live), for a few more hours through dusk and into the dark. 

A vineyard at sunset, on the Route d'Eguilles, La Montauronne, France.

Because it was so cold, my nose was running like a leaky tap. And while I'm complaining, my jaw was also sore, and had been for a few days; I must have slept on it wrong. 

I found a top camp site, a little clearing in between a quiet road and a massive rock. Since I was so tired, I had a relatively early night at about 11 pm.

The days route, Marseille to Cheval-Blanc, France.

An overview of my progress so far from Rome.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 75.81 km
Average: 17.1 km/h
Maximum: 46.5 km/h
Time: 4:25:54

Total ascent: 695 m

Total Descent: 597 m