Made it to the Mediterranean.

We have done over 1700km down the west side of France in about 3 ½ weeks and have changed a few of our ambitious plans. Our limitation is that we are keen to get to near Grenoble by the 29th May to meet both our mothers who have hired a gite together for a week there and to celebrate an important birthday. First change was ditching the Barcelona plan. The other night we had a long look at our map book and decided that my legs were not up to getting to the Millau viaduct. Nic had hoped to see. I feel a bit bad as I really am the weakest link. The only thing I am carrying of Nic's is his toothbrush. He has the tent, all the bike tools and bits, the gas and the stove as well as our 2 small pots yet he is still fastest uphill, takes all the headwinds and is the least likely to be the one whinging when we hit the 70km mark for the day. He has taken the change of plans with much grace and only a little bit of resignation. As we both keep saying the point is to enjoy the cycling not to try and see everything as we will be back (possibly not self propelled).

Today was pretty amazing (despite clocking up 97km). We have enjoyed brilliant blue skies the last 3 days and today as we cycled along the coast from past Narbonne to near Montpellier. The coast is very built up compared to NZ but with weather like today spectacular with the terracotta, blues and white. Such a contrast to the Normandy coastline where we froze and the colours were shades of grey. Stopped for a swim on a deserted stretch this afternoon (thanks to only a cycle path and no road beachside). I have finally ditched my long sleeved and legged cycling gear that I was sweltering in the past couple days in an attempt to avoid frying. Nic and I are, obviously, not the types to tan but we are developing areas sharply demarcated at sleeve and sock lines that are a pleasant shade of off white. This is only kept from being lobster like by the 50 plus sunscreen that the French seem to only market for “bebe” and “enfant”. Based on some we have seen so far, brown and wrinkly with a paunch is all the rage.

Coming down the west side of France has been a bit of a mission at times. There has, as I have alluded to, been some whinging from my side of the tent. This is the side of the tent that leaks however. We discovered this on a night when we were kept awake by a very dramatic thunderstorm. Lightening and thunder are a lot brighter and louder when under 2 thin layers of nylon. Fortunately that night we woke to blue skies and a dry day. We arrived in Cahors after a long (100+km) but scenic trip out of the Dordogne valley (had visited the Lascaux caves the previous day) past multiple hillside chateau. It was dry but that night the rain started and didn't stop. I hate packing in the wet. An Englishman and his wife who befriended us in the campsite, (after an interesting exchange in French about our dinner until I realised we were better off parlez Anglais), sensed our desparation and helped us figure out our next destination with their camp guides. However I had other ideas...

When our tent first revealed its' leakiness, Nic started talking about buying new tents. I started talking about hotels. After leaving Cahors (pictured) and cycling a day in the rain we did check into a hotel with clean sheets and towels and a roof in Mouissac. We followed a canal path from Mouissac towards Toulouse with mixed success. Amazing going over canal aqueducts (even I can admire this engineering over 300 years old). These carry the canal over rivers, water over water. At one point the cycle path finished and we tried to continue beside the canal in the thickest mud I have seen. Never before managed to lock a wheel with mud jammed between the tire and mudguard. We had more success close to Toulouse and found our way to the campground easily.

The Toulouse campground is so far the worst. Mainly thanks to some French teenagers with bad techno and bladders that seem to need to be emptied just behind a hedge adjacent to our tent. Can cope with that, but the repeated requests in the little English they had, of “do you want to see my ….?” was more than I needed that night. A Dutch couple saved us, offering us wine and moving our tent to their site away from the noise, much appreciated.

Through Toulouse (where Nic was “picked up” by a couple just returning from cycle touring NZ and the world and given an address in Grenoble), we joined the Canal du Midi (pictured) and followed this for the day. Beautiful riding with lots of other cyclists, roller bladders and walkers. First campsite we approached off the canal was “complet” with what appeared to be a music festival. We moved on. Found a couple of young French cycle tourists who had encountered the same problem and followed them to the most beautiful campsite we have been in. Freshly mowed grass, deserted apart from us, pretty flowers all potted up, toilet seats and toilet paper (not always or often a given) and views out to the Pyrenees (pictured below). Perfect.






Shame we had our dinner all sorted and had to turn down offers of cassoulet from the campground owners.

Continued down the canal and have now seen it out to see from Agde on the Mediterranean. Planning to continue up through Nimes to Avignon to meet my brother and then to start meeting some hills ......