Flatter roads, head winds and still pedalling !

Domaine de Beauregard … Now that’s a pretty cool address hey ? A private vin yard owned and run by Robin and Sasha, ex banker and events planner or something similar totally unrelated to living on 150 acres of private estate with vines stretching out in all directions as far as the eye can see with two young children, a couple of Labradors and a cat. And not just living on it but running it and producing around 30,000 litres of wine a year .. Now, that takes guts I recon. A bit like Jimmy’s farm but without the pigs, TV cameras and an altogether sweeter smell ! I loved it there, I sampled loads of wine and was made to feel like a VIP guest, it’s definitely got it’s perks this fund raising lark ! There’s a Gite (cottage) there, so if you fancy staying and sampling then click on the link to your right somewhere.

A few miles down the road I met a group of Russian cyclists on a tour of Bordeaux, they all spoke really good English and were intrigued by my trip and surprised I was on a mountain bike ! They were climbing onto each others shoulders and reaching up into a fig tree to scrump the delicious fruit. One of them enquired as to whether I’d be home for dinner ? I hope this was a joke, being that I’ve got about 400 miles to go. I’m not at all sure they had a grip on the scale of Europe though, as one of them commented that I was lucky to live in England because I could cycle around Richmond park ?

It must have been Sunday morning because the usual merry bands of hunters were out and about with their dogs, guns and alcohol… Pot bellied killing machines clad head to foot in camouflage, they’re at one with nature and barely visible to the naked eye as they stand around preparing and swilling a few more slugs of wine.. Well, they would be invisible were it not for the fact that by law they now have to wear bright orange hats and high vis vests over their hunting regalia in a bid to make them more visible to each other, thus reducing the mortality rates through actually shooting each other by accident ! The statistics are quite amazing and makes me think they’d have been better off banning the booze, or maybe they should have just let them be and have natural selection run it’s course, after all, stupid is as stupid does ?

Forest Gump keeps popping in my mind along this trip, and not more so than last night when two far too keen racing bike enthusiasts joined me for my last 10 miles or so… They didn’t seem to care about the fact my bike weighed loads more than theirs, I’d already been riding for about six hours and they’d obviously raced bikes since before they could even walk ! I didn’t know my bike could go so fast for so long, it was exhausting and we were heading to the big reception with the mayor. Something Grumpy John, my host had organised. I’m pleased to say I didn’t find him at all grumpy, instead, he and his wife Jocelyn were both very kind and generous people who sorted me out with nice room and plenty of grub too.

The Mayor was a lovely chap, and most concerned about the state of my arse after all those miles ! I assured him it was ok really and willed him to overt his wry grin elsewhere. He gave a fitting speech to the villagers and other well wishers and supporters, as did the deputy mayor. There was a reporter too, snapping photos and asking questions… I probably drank too much and ate too many nibbles but don’t think I misbehaved ? After being presented with a couple flags from the area as a sort of souvenir was subjected, along with everyone else to a uncomfortably long speech by a Frenchman who’d pitched up to raise funds and rally support for his Organ Donor charity. Now that was a bit a blow when it dawned on me that the donation tin by the door, now filling nicely with notes was actually not for the BHF at all ? I drank some more and listened hard as the chap used me as an illustration to the wonders of modern medicine, having had my life saved by a donated organ… This was getting a bit silly now as I stood there listening to the familiar clank clank of my very man made Aortic valve and fantasized about saddling up my loyal mountain bike and heading into the sunset. Sadly it had long since set. With farewells said we headed back to John and Jocelyn’s place for dinner, where we were joined at the table by another couple and their reluctant son.

I really shouldn’t have eaten so many snacks at the reception… I was already feeling a little full by the time I’d finished my fish soup starter. Dave, he was an odd one, hell bent on winding me up, unfortunately for him I was just too tired to take his bait, relentless as he was, he failed, “people around here are rather inbred, much like the Cornish.” He’s just showing off, I think to myself and let it go. “People around here are pretty ugly, a bit like the Cornish.” Am I just being oversensitive here or is he just trying to cause an argument ? I let it go … Some time passes “The trouble with the people round here is they’re just not very bright.” yep you guessed, “Just like the Cornish.” Had the hosts not gone to so much trouble I’d probably have just lumped him one across the table there and then ! As it goes, I’m not Cornish anyway, just lucky enough to live there, but he didn’t know that and that’s not the point. He was one of the small number of angry underachieving expats with a bored wife and teenage child in tow enthusing in vein about how much better life in France is, quietly hoping that by saying it enough times they’ll believe it. Bridges burnt, savings in tatters and bar a few other expats they’re washed up, foreigners in a country with no shared culture, history or language ? Some people just don’t “get” France and really shouldn’t be here.

I’ve met a few idiots along the way but pleased to say they’re very much in the minority. Over the last few days I’ve seen so many Castles, I’d no idea there were so many here. They’re such a nice surprise and delight to see. Sometimes on rounding a bend they come into view and often in the distance, just visible between rows of vines. Beautiful uncompromising buildings, every one of them and some just remains, derelict ruins of once very grand buildings, high up on hillsides, commanding great views and steeped in history. Windmills too, just this afternoon I’ve seen loads of them, they’re so well built and quite majestically dotted about the landscape too. Mind you, if it’s normally as windy as it was today I’m not surprised, north easterly it was and pretty fresh too. I think flat roads and a strong head wind are actually worse than no wind and steep mountain roads. Hope it drops away tomorrow… But not till the morning because I’ve got my washing out !

Tonight I find myself in a small village, called St Palais de something else, where I’ve been lent a Gite for night, Thanks Wendy ! It’s a lovely place, comfy, homely and even got Sky telly, so I’ve been monged out watching the box with nobody to talk too all evening. Typically there’s no shop or Bar so I’ve had to cycle a few miles to the nearest shop for provisions, which is just what I didn’t want after a day of pedalling. I met a fellow cyclist up there, not quite such an athlete as me though, he’d been in the shop buying cheap wine which he was busily hanging over the handlebars in plastic bags and had failed to notice his back tyre was flat. Being that he was talking to himself and had failed to tuck his bits away properly after the last time he’d been to the toilet, or hedge as the case may be, I tried to avoid eye contact. Then he asked me the time, I ignored him and he asked again. “6.50” I say, realising he’s wearing a watch. The last time I was asked the time, as a conversation opener by somebody wearing a perfectly good watch was in Morocco by one of two brothers who wound up sharing a taxi with me into Tetuan, a particularly dark and busy place, where they spiked my drink and tried to make off with my passport and money ! However, this chap wasn’t in a fit state to make off with anything, he just wanted to talk, and I’d inadvertently invited him into my airspace. Before I knew it he was showing me his passport, telling me about Paris and how expensive it is to fly to New York ! I jump on my bike and flee back to the Gite with my bag full of goodies for dinner and breakfast.

It’s the next day now, I’m up and about and the sun’s shining… I’m aching all over but feel compelled to get pedalling. I’m due to stay here for a rest day but I’ve got itchy feet and want to get moving. Maybe it’s got something to do with my next stop being a stunning manor house set in it’s own grounds and having a Jacuzzi…

That’s done it, time to pack .. Oh and track down a McDonald’s too for internet access, maybe there’s one in Pons, which looking at my map is the next big town along the way… Oh and Cognac, I think I pass through there too on route to the Jacuzzi, I’m sure I’ll find a Wi Fi connection somewhere along the way, or "wiffi" as the French pronounce it.

Thank you again Wendy for lending me your house it’s amazing, I can honestly say I’ve never seen a house so thoroughly and systematically furnished with such attention to detail. Every room is furnished to such a high standard, it’s like a show room, I’m afraid to move anything ! I must take some photos, it has to be seen to be believed…. And so many printed quotes on walls and painted boards all over the house … “Don’t wait for the storm to pass… Learn to dance in the rain” I like that one, but my favourite is “May you always have a shell in your pocket and sand in your shoes.” I usually do, so it’s made me feel a little home sick, I need to get moving….

Hey, if you’re reading my blog and haven’t yet donated to my charity fund for the British heart foundation, which is what this whole ride is all about then please do ! It’s really easy, just follow the link there on the right and punch in your numbers, you can give as little as just £2 I think and every penny helps, so dig deep and help me reach my target … I’m certainly working for it !?

Thanks, Jus.