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Saturday, 26 May 2012

Cycling Tour in France 2012

Place de l’Horloge

Sitting around the blazing fire and in the comfortable surroundings of our New York State house, just after the annual gorging event of Christmas, made me begin to ponder the Summer ahead and where our vacation may take my wife and I. Suddenly feeling the urge to stretch my legs I decided on attempting the epic journey to the bathroom and upon passing the large full-length mirror I was shocked to see the reflection of Frank Cannon staring back at me. For those not old enough to remember Frank Cannon let me just say that the image of Buddha with a moustache isn’t that far off! Anyway, after having celebrated my 55^th birthday earlier in the year and vowing to do something about my waning fitness and growing waistline I was horrified to see that I was resembling several of my more developed customers at the maternity clinic where I was a consultant and was supposed to be offering, amongst other things, advice on sensible and balanced diets.

The discussion with my lovely wife began with a few suggestions of destinations, including a relaxing couple of weeks on the Mexican beaches or a trip to see her family in Canada and ended up with a cycling tour in France!………..in Europe!!…………I’d never been to Europe!!! I know it sounds strange, but I’d just never had the need or inclination………….and the last time my wife had ridden a bicycle was when Donny Osmond and his brothers were singing about Crazy Horses!

Well anyway, somehow I allowed my wife to convince me that France on bicycles was a good idea and after buying the obligatory and most attractively enhancing lycra pants we booked our holiday and waited with anticipation for our vacation date to arrive.

Seeing as I was going to experience Europe for the first time we decided to fly into the UK and spend a few days in London and then from there we would fly into France. London was fantastic for me, although even more fantastic was the price of the flight from the UK to France. We flew with a company called Ryanair who fly into so many destinations in France that you’re spoilt for choice. As we’d chosen a tour of Provence we flew into Nimes for less than the price of a short cab ride back home. I originally thought we were just paying a tip for the crew, but no, that was the price of the flight! I had visions of us all donning parachutes and sitting between each other’s legs waiting for the “drop” over our destination, but we all had a seat and we were even offered beverages on route!

Avignon

After a short train journey we arrived in Avignon and were greeted by our hosts for the week who also introduced us to a small group of our fellow cyclists. It’s funny, but I suddenly felt like Frank Cannon again as I eyed up all the “competition” who, at that time, in my mind, resembled Lance and Team Discovery Channel. I’m sure they were all thinking the same thing as I noticed several eyes upon me asking themselves, “I wonder if I’ll look as stupid as him in lycra”, and, “If Frank Cannon can get his leg over a bicycle then I’m sure I can”.

The first thing to notice was the difference in weather between the UK and the South of France. It was gorgeous in France, and although not too hot, the air conditioned transport to our hotel was a welcome relief from a journey in a hot stuffy vehicle, although I was thinking that perhaps I could sweat off a few more pounds before arriving at the hotel and get out with a stomach more like Brad Pitt’s. It also gave us time to get to know the Guides and the rest of the group and to realise we were all thinking the same things. By the time we arrived at the hotel I’d realised we were all here for a leisurely cycle through the French countryside and that we were all of about the same level of fitness and would get on just fine over the next week.

Well we were at the hotel now and I’d missed Avignon, and the fallen down bridge, due to paying too much thought to those lycra shorts that I had to get into the next day. I needn’t have worried though, as once we’d been shown our very plush room in the truly amazing hotel which was formerly a military hospital during the French Revolution, we had time to explore the town……………and what a town it was! Walking from the Place de l’Horloge and into the square housing the Palais des Papes was, for a 1^st timer in France, truly magnificent trying to comprehend the history that had passed before me at the spot where I stood. A short walk took me to the spot of the half of a bridge spanning the river and memories of the song, “sur le pont d’Avignon………..”

Upon returning to the hotel I was now ready for 40 winks, but the “fitting” of my bicycle was a necessity for tomorrows ride and there was even talk about a short excursion to the Pont du Gard today. After the sights I’d seen earlier I was ready for more delights and was more than willing to climb into those lycra pants for the short ride to Gard. After agreeing a time to meet back at the bikes we left to prepare for the fashion parade and I could only only wish that I could look as good as my lovely wife did in Lycra. Upon congregating at the bikes my fears were soon diminished as I realised we all looked as ridiculous as each other and perhaps the comfort of the pants were soon going to outweigh the figure enhancing and fashion qualities.

The bicycles, being American, were a tremendous feat of engineering and a good quality, well built piece of equipment. In fact the leisurely cycle to Gard was most pleasant and gave us more opportunity to befriend our Guides and group. I learnt that I was cycling with 5 other Americans, 4 Canadians and 2 Australians.

Again I was totally awestruck at the spectacle of the Pont du Gard. To imagine that this Roman marvel was over 2000 years old, and that all that time ago the Romans were here constructing this magnificent construction, put my home-made two bricks high wall at home in the shade. In fact my two bricks high wall only lasted two years before succumbing to the effects of the weather.

Palais des Papes

Well, that was the first day almost taken care of and I’d already seen more than enough to satisfy me. The following day was no less exciting and riding in a group was such a fantastic way of making new friends from different countries and forming some type of camaraderie. We had all joined the lycra brigade and I was now glad that I was wearing a pair of pants that felt like I was wearing a diaper. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to use that soothing cream in places I’d never had to use cream before. The evening was spent, not just in the neighbourhood but, in one of the actual former chateaux of the rapist, torturer and murderer the Marquis de Sade, the inventor of the word sadism. Now a very charming and atmospheric hotel it seemed somewhat surreal sitting in the beautiful garden next to the pool sipping a Scotch on the rocks and looking forward to the eveing meal in a chateau that probably held so many secrets.

Tuesday was going to be a hard day as we were going to have to sample some of the fine Chateauneuf du Pape appellation……………..but somebody has to do it! It seemed that the group were moving at a different speed today, but I’m sure that the thoughts of the wine-tasting had nothing to do with that. I was just worried how I was going to carry my wine on my bike! No need to worry there though because upon arriving at the chateau I noticed that the minibus had managed to beat us there and upon leaving, with just a little wine in our bloodstreams, the vehicle was beginning to resemble a mobile wine cellar.

Orange

Whether it was to do with the wine or just the remains of jet-lag (which I’m sure it was), the short ride to Orange for lunch seemed the hardest stretch of the week. I think it was the only time during the week that the males in the group seemed to form a slow moving mini-peleton and arrived in Orange considerably later than the ladies. They did refute the comments of the Guides though that they had appeared to have consumed the larger quantity of free alcohol at the chateau.

The next day continued to leave me in awe, whether it be the scenery or the friendly local people, but one thing was certain in my mind; this place could only be visited on a bicycle to savour all that was on offer. A car or bus would have not given the time to take in all the amazing surroundings, including the colours, smells and sounds, and on foot would have been too slow to appreciate the constant changes in landscape. Of course we also had the added bonus of a constant Guide who could inform us of the history and local traditions and food.

I was now getting used to my diaper and even though we were eating like Kings I’m sure I’d shed a few pounds. I’d even go so far as to say I was looking quite sporty in my lycra. I was even having thoughts of purchasing a bicycle for myself one I got home. It would be hard getting used to sleeping in a 1970’s house again though after having spent each night in something that resembled a little castle or fortress with so much history.

By Friday morning I was like a kid at Christmas and I really didn’t want this vacation to come to an end. As usual the breakfast was monumental and was the required fuel for a day in the saddle. I had made so many good friends on this vacation and was already planning next years tour. Upon arriving in Arles we made our way to our hotel and were not to be disappointed with the final nights resting place. As usual the hotel was full of interest and history and a refreshing dip in the pool was achieved before exploring the town’s busy streets. Again the Romans had beaten me to another town but what they’d left behind was just beyond words and a stroll around the streets bought us to the rather splendid, and quite complete, remains of a Roman amphitheatre.

The evening meal was taken out in the square at one of the local restaurants and made a fabulous end to such a wonderful journey. We’d spent a week in great company and made some truly lasting friendships. We’d seen so much history in such a small part of one country, and to think there’s so much more to see. Yes, the diaper took a little time to get used to, but I’m quite attached to it now. The thought of getting up in the morning and not cladding myself in lycra filled me with a hint of sadness. If you’re thinking of discovering France then do it by bicycle. I’m coming back next year and I think I’m going to explore the Dordogne and its prehistoric gems.