Najac in the mist
Najac in the mist
Day
18 (51 km): It was cool and overcast in the morning. Peter took his
bike to a shop to get rid of that persistent wobble. The mechanic
found and repaired the broken spoke we had missed. (We're not nearly
as good at bike repairs as our wives think we are but we don't tell
them. They would worry!) While we waited for the bike the women
toured Figéac some more, finding and examining the large
casting of the Rosetta stone. As we headed east we were immediately
into the hills of the Rouergue - long and sometimes steep climbs and
descents. We phoned our daughter at lunch and she told us at the last
moment to inquire about Nationair. (We were using coins in this old
phone booth and our time ran out.) We didn't find out until we got
home that she had heard about the Nationair DC8 crash in the desert.
It's as well we didn't know about it. We followed the north shore of
the Lot for about 25 km after lunch then turned south, following the
Dourdou river, finally turning and making the very steep climb to
another of the plus beaux villages, Conques.
(I recall talking to a friend about our plans for this trip and
telling her that we planned to go "down to Conques" since it is south
of the Lot and on a map it is "down". She said, "You don't go down to
Conques. You go up to Conques!" When we got there, I understood what
she meant.) The village is high above the river with grand views of
the Rouergue to the south. Conques was an important stopping place on
the chemin de St. Jacques-de-Compostelle (the medieval pilgrim
route from northern cities to the shrine of Santiago di Compostella -
"St. James in the field of stars" - in northwestern Spain.) There's a
fine church there with some impressive gold artifacts. Our rooms in
the Auberge St. Jacques were on the top floor facing the panorama to
the south. After dinner we strolled around the village, stopping
outside a window to listen to a trio (two women with violins and a
man at a piano) rehearsing. Then we walked up high above the village
where construction was underway for an open air theatre where the
audience would be seated with that wonderful southern view above the
stage. Some tough cycling today!
Day 19 (65 km): At the bottom of the steep hill descending from Conques there is a T-intersection. It was imperative to stop because of traffic and because if you rolled across the road you'd end up in the Dourdou river. However, with my weight and the load in the panniers, the strain was too much and a spoke on my rear wheel snapped. We rode (I wobbled) to the nearest town 5 km to the north. No bike shop. A man there suggested St. Cyprien, 12 km south. There was a bike shop but the mechanic was away at a bike race. Peter and I decided to try to repair it ourselves and compounded the problem, making the wheel unusable. (I told you we weren't very good. We're better now.) So we left the women in St. Cyprien and I rode Carol's bike, carrying the wheel in one hand, another 12 km to Marcillac-Vallon. The bike shop there was closed (Saturday after 12:00). I knocked on the door of the adjacent house and pleaded my case. The older gentleman was kind enough to leave his lunch, examine the situation and repair it in about 15 minutes. We rode back with our prize to where the women were relaxing in a park, reading. Back on the road, we headed north again to the Lot valley and stopped after an eventful day in Viellevie. The hotel had a pool so we had a swim and a nice walk along the river. At dinner we saw a turtle wander across the floor of the pretty terrace and a small child saved by the quick reaction of an adult as he almost fell over a railing. Entertainment! Nice meal.
Day
20 (47 km): We continued to follow the Lot east with high lush green
hills on both sides of the river. There's a Gothic bridge at
Entraygues where the Truyère river meets the Lot. We continued
east through the Gorges du Lot with high cliffs on both sides
of the river, emerging at Estaing (yet another of les plus beaux
villages). After 10 km of climbs and descents we finally stopped
in the little town of Espalion. We chose the old Hotel Central,
furnished with large old armoires, beds, etc., and operated by two
vivacious young women. The one who greeted us said, "Vous
êtes de Canada! Ah, j'aime beaucoup Canada!" We asked her
if she had ever visited Canada. She hadn't but she hoped to. We
wandered around the town, stopping in an attractive park to watch a
serious boules tournament with teams
made up of a lot of older men who were very good. It was an easy day,
following the river in 30°C sunshine.
Day
20 (76 km): Breakfast was served in a large dining room with a very
high ceiling. The food came up to the room on a "dumb waiter" behind
a screen. The same young woman served us café au lait
from a silver coffee service. The table was set with silver and
the cloth and napkins were heavy linen. The whole experience felt
like a scene in a 1930's movie. I asked Peter, "What
year is this?" Memorable - I can still see the room,
the woman, even taste the coffee. We set out in warm sunshine back
upriver to Estaing and then turned west, climbing, sometimes steeply,
for about 11 km and then, after a few km along the ridge with
splendid panoramic views, we had a fast 5 km descent back to the
Dourdou river, just upstream from the bike shop of our saviour from a
couple of days before. We stopped at the shop and I had the wheel
trued; it was still wobbling a bit. We had lunch in the park and then
headed out, Carol and I in the lead. About 3 km out we were caught by
a breathless Heather who told me Peter had a puncture. I turned back
to help him and the women pressed on toward Rodez
(pronounced "road ezz", not "road ay" as I had
assumed, based on what my high school French had taught me).
Repairs completed, Peter and I caught up with them on the 13 km climb
up to the city - an elevation change of nearly 400 metres. It started
to rain shortly after we checked into our hotel. The large
cathedral with its carved wooden choir stalls (similar to those
in Auch) and a separate bell tower nearly 90 m tall is very
impressive. With all the climbing it had been a difficult cycling
day.
Day 21 (60 km): Peter went to a bike shop about that troublesome wheel. We set out, heading west, under overcast skies. Très valloné. (Very hilly.) We arrived in Rignac at about 11:30 scrambling for cover before a sudden hard downpour swept by. We stopped for a pause café, waiting for the rain to stop. Back on the road, more hills; ominous sky. We had a 6 km descent into Villefranche-de-Rouergue as the sun finally came out but it remained cool. In fact, Villefranche was the coldest spot in France that day. Lucky us! There's a grand cathedral in the city on a fine old arcaded square. One reason we had come to Villefranche was because the restaurant at the Hotel L'Univers was one of those "Red R" restaurants in the Michelin guide. So we went there for supper. Examining the carte (which we'd call a menu, but in France a menu (pronounced "mawn you") is something quite different), Peter asked the waitress, "Mademoiselle, qu'est-ce que c'est 'tête de veau'?" ("What is calf's head?") She responded, with a shrug, "C'est 'tête de veau'." ("It's calf's head.") Then, with a bright smile, she delivered the killer comment, "C'est une spécialité de la maison!" ("It's a specialty of the house.") So Pete ordered it. It was grey! It jiggled! It was only the right half of the head. I said, "It's lips!!" which prompted a baleful look. He poked at it with his fork. It jiggled some more. He offered it to the rest of us. We just snickered. Finally, taken in by his hang-dog look, Carol offered to share her meal with him. Our meals were wonderful, a nice finish to cool, hilly day.
Day
22 (57 km): It was overcast, misty and cool when we headed south,
following the Aveyron river. After about 20 km, we crossed the river
and began the 6 km climb to Najac, shrouded in mist - another of
les plus beaux villages de France. Peter and I assumed our
duties of watching the bikes while the women scouted this tiny,
ridge-top village and the ruins of the castle at its northern end.
The sun came out while we waited and the combination of comfortable
seating and warm sunlight was too much. When they returned, the two
bike watchers were both sound asleep! We continued south over some
long climbs and descents. Carol and I just made shelter after a long
descent into Laguepie but Peter and Heather got caught in the sudden
shower. We had a coffee and waited until the shower passed and then
crossed the Viaur river and climbed steeply for 2km. About halfway
up, Heather, by now trailing the group and walking, shouted "What's
the point?!" A fair question. I guess the following downhill is
always the point. By the time we reached Cordes
(un des plus beaux villages de France - they're all over this
part of France), after several hours of hilly cycling, the sun had
come out again. Cordes is perched on top of a hill - Cordes-sur-Ciel
it's called - Cordes in the heavens. We walked our bikes most of the
way up the steep hill to our hotel. On the way up we chatted with a
couple of young American guys riding recumbents. (Well, they were
actually pushing them up the hill like we were. It's a very
steep hill.) We had a great view from our window across the valley as
we munched on baguette with Bleu d'Auvergne, another fine French blue
cheese, accompanied by a nice Monbazillac. Cordes was a Cathar
stronghold. The Cathars were labelled "heretics" by the church
establishment and brutally wiped out by the dreadful Simon de
Montfort (father of the 13th century English baron of the same name
who led the rebellion against Henry III) during the Albigensian
Crusade. The legend in Cordes is that two priests, representing the
Inquisition, came to Cordes and were not well received - in fact were
unceremoniously thrown into a deep well in the marketplace in the
centre of the town. It rained again at supper, forcing us inside to
eat - a rarity in the south of France. Having eaten a late lunch, we
had a light supper - salade de gésiers (a salad
containing specially conserved, sliced duck gizzards - a favorite of
ours. Really!!) and a galette (a Buckwheat
crèpe) filled with ham and cheese.
Day 23 (No cycling!): We decided to stay another day in Cordes after three straight days of very hilly cycling. A good decision, as it turned out, because it rained all morning. Cordes is very turista - lots of artisans' shops, souvenirs, etc. We relaxed most of the day. The women checked out all the shops. We had a lovely meal at the Auberge de la Cité.