A long cold, windy ride across the Charente ! What a soul destroying day yesterday was .. Worse than any mountain. Long long bitterly cold head winds, mile after mile of relentless battering, crawling along at just 7 mph through bland, open countryside, the wind so loud I could hardly hear my ipod !
I hadn’t considered that there would be a whole different wind system here, my thinking was that it would be just like home, with a prevailing Sou’westerly to nudge me along ? Not at all, something to do with the massif central or lowlands or something, anyway around here the prevailing is Nor’easerly and trying it’s best to push me backwards all the time.
A couple of weeks ago I was not able to cycle at noon because it was too hot and drinking a litre an hour of water to stay hydrated and yesterday I had both my light weight fleeces on, two pairs of socks, leggings, shorts and a scarf and I was still cold !
Passing through the occasional village was a blessing, taking a few moments of shelter from high hedges, trees and houses and the dream of maybe finding a café for a nice hot milky coffee. Sadly I didn’t find a single café, not in 40 odd miles pedalling !
I did however pass through one typically sleepy place that naturally had no shop or café but did have a coifures. I pedalled by thinking to myself, “if I were to go in and get a hair cut, they might make me a coffee?” I could get warm too, and of course get a hair cut ! I turned around and headed back, excited by the thought of getting out of the wind I drew up to the door, it looked closed, but I’m used to that in France now, places have a knack of looking closed when they’re actually open. Oh… It WAS closed ! A small yellow post it note on the door explained it would remain that way for another week !
Now laughing out loud, I tucked into another sugar lump and swig of water, adjusted my scarf and headphones and headed out onto more emptiness….
Eventually I spied some more hedges and high trees about a mile or so ahead where I stopped and sat and found to my delight, fresh fallen Walnuts all about the ground ! I dug out my Leatherman to crack the shells and gorged on them, delicious soft nuts, nothing like the ones you get in a bowl at Christmas, all old and dry, these are a whole different taste and texture experience, what a treat… I dropped off to sleep… Until I woke again, so cold that more pedalling seemed the only thing to do.
As darkness fell I made it to Lezay, another typical small French town. Not knowing where to find my hosts house I called into a Tabac for directions. It was also an excuse to buy the bar of chocolate I was craving ! I looked around to see they didn’t seem to sell chocolate at all ? So, politely I ask if they sell it ? The aging proprietor looks at me and replies with the strangest accent in real old school English, “I’m sensing your first language is English, and I understand you’re wishing to procure some chocolate ? For obvious reasons we don’t sell chocolate in the summer and sadly we can’t afford it the shelf space come winter, so I can only apologise on this occasion that we’ll sadly not be able to sell you any chocolate.” This chap was too much, I felt like I’d gone back in time about a hundred years ! I had to ask where he came from, and he replied “Well my friend, that is indeed an interesting and not at all easy question to answer.” He then launched into the explanation of having an Italian mother, French father and being bought up before the war in Canada with English as his formative language … An intriguing tale it was too, especially as I sounded like it was being regaled by Charles Dickens with some kind of French Canadian accent ! It was getting really dark now and I was still lost … Dickens couldn’t help with directions, and I didn’t bother asking what the “obvious” reasons for not selling chocolate were !?
Finally I made it to my destination, and once again was made really welcome and fed a great meal… Thanks to Tricia and Peter Scanlon.
Looking through the window now, the wind seems to have dropped and I’ve just had a massive full English breakfast to see me on my way so today I hope will be better than yesterday ?
Thanks for reading and please stay with me as I inch my way up this huge map joining up the dots !
I hadn’t considered that there would be a whole different wind system here, my thinking was that it would be just like home, with a prevailing Sou’westerly to nudge me along ? Not at all, something to do with the massif central or lowlands or something, anyway around here the prevailing is Nor’easerly and trying it’s best to push me backwards all the time.
A couple of weeks ago I was not able to cycle at noon because it was too hot and drinking a litre an hour of water to stay hydrated and yesterday I had both my light weight fleeces on, two pairs of socks, leggings, shorts and a scarf and I was still cold !
Passing through the occasional village was a blessing, taking a few moments of shelter from high hedges, trees and houses and the dream of maybe finding a café for a nice hot milky coffee. Sadly I didn’t find a single café, not in 40 odd miles pedalling !
I did however pass through one typically sleepy place that naturally had no shop or café but did have a coifures. I pedalled by thinking to myself, “if I were to go in and get a hair cut, they might make me a coffee?” I could get warm too, and of course get a hair cut ! I turned around and headed back, excited by the thought of getting out of the wind I drew up to the door, it looked closed, but I’m used to that in France now, places have a knack of looking closed when they’re actually open. Oh… It WAS closed ! A small yellow post it note on the door explained it would remain that way for another week !
Now laughing out loud, I tucked into another sugar lump and swig of water, adjusted my scarf and headphones and headed out onto more emptiness….
Eventually I spied some more hedges and high trees about a mile or so ahead where I stopped and sat and found to my delight, fresh fallen Walnuts all about the ground ! I dug out my Leatherman to crack the shells and gorged on them, delicious soft nuts, nothing like the ones you get in a bowl at Christmas, all old and dry, these are a whole different taste and texture experience, what a treat… I dropped off to sleep… Until I woke again, so cold that more pedalling seemed the only thing to do.
As darkness fell I made it to Lezay, another typical small French town. Not knowing where to find my hosts house I called into a Tabac for directions. It was also an excuse to buy the bar of chocolate I was craving ! I looked around to see they didn’t seem to sell chocolate at all ? So, politely I ask if they sell it ? The aging proprietor looks at me and replies with the strangest accent in real old school English, “I’m sensing your first language is English, and I understand you’re wishing to procure some chocolate ? For obvious reasons we don’t sell chocolate in the summer and sadly we can’t afford it the shelf space come winter, so I can only apologise on this occasion that we’ll sadly not be able to sell you any chocolate.” This chap was too much, I felt like I’d gone back in time about a hundred years ! I had to ask where he came from, and he replied “Well my friend, that is indeed an interesting and not at all easy question to answer.” He then launched into the explanation of having an Italian mother, French father and being bought up before the war in Canada with English as his formative language … An intriguing tale it was too, especially as I sounded like it was being regaled by Charles Dickens with some kind of French Canadian accent ! It was getting really dark now and I was still lost … Dickens couldn’t help with directions, and I didn’t bother asking what the “obvious” reasons for not selling chocolate were !?
Finally I made it to my destination, and once again was made really welcome and fed a great meal… Thanks to Tricia and Peter Scanlon.
Looking through the window now, the wind seems to have dropped and I’ve just had a massive full English breakfast to see me on my way so today I hope will be better than yesterday ?
Thanks for reading and please stay with me as I inch my way up this huge map joining up the dots !
4 comments:
That'll be why pickled walnuts are so bloody lovely because they pickle them when they're still soft. Bet you really wanted to know that didn't you!
Oh and poor you being cold - sounds like you better invest in another layer?
we are with you, and I am thinking that I am glad it is only in spirit as that sounds "well beastly"
Keep right on to the end of the road...
I am assuming that the pictures of the tortured chap are an allegory for how you are feeling or does he just keep popping up along the way!
Yep JC is there on his cross on the exit to just about every town and village ! I've started to look out for them and sometimes photograph them and wonder if the villagers even see him there or think about why he's there and how he went and got himself nailed up in the first place... nasty business all that ! He was just a thinker, but maybe he should have kept cavey about some of his thoughts... It happened to Forest Gump too but he wound up having a lovely little boy not being nailed to a cross ?
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