A very strange day to Rouge de Rousollann

Saturday Day 25 - Today began by sleeping until I woke at about 8:00 and had a quiet breakfast with Christina, who owned the jete bustling about busily.The house was immaculate, small with rooms for 3 or 4 guests. Tonight there were only a few guests, but since I arrived late and went out for dinner, we only passed in the hallways. Christina was a very smart lady who was fluent in English having worked for many years several in Sweden. She seemed to enjoy the company and I heard all about her grandchildren android her about meeting my wife the artist in Lyon/Flourie. 

My room with the shutter open on the 3rd floor

View of the village square and the church from my window.

She told me about the art gallery in town and encouraged me to visit. It was a pleasant little town and I set out to explore more than the local tavern where I had dinner last night.

The art gallery was in what once probably in mid evil days was The Lord of the towns house ..... well not a castle but more than a house.

The show was incredible but they wouldn't let me take any photos.

The work was very big, representational and I am making arrangements to have Sarah's work shown there so that we all can come over for the opening.

An old guy who worked there and watched my bike, he was so happy when I took his picture. Then when I gave him the iPad to take my picture he went wild taking a million pictures of everything....

At this point it was getting late, near noon and very hot!!! I didn't really have a plan except to go east 15 or so miles down to the the Rhone River and head north. I was told that after getting down to the river it was much more commercial and industrial and not so nice.

This all turned out to be true although the river town of Montelimar seemed to have some life. But boy was it hot!!!!!! 39 C which I'll have to convert sometime. And with abut a 20 to 30 MPH constant wind from the south. I never felt the wind this hot blowing so hard. And on top of that the roads were in bad shape and busy. And I needed to go due north about 50 miles to get past a huge steep mountain in order to go east to Grenoble.

I made a brilliant executive decision ...... take the train. I followed the clearly marked signs to the train station and inquired. In luck there was a 3:15 train going north so I bought a ticket for Pagne de Rousoullonn, about 60 miles north.

Now ...... I must make a disclaimer/documentation here ...... Up until now the only none human powered (i.e. energy other than my legs) assist I have received on my journey from the Pacific Ocean in Oregon last summer, east to the Atlantic in Maine and so far this year from the Atlantic Ocean near Santiago in Spain until now have been:

1. Wyoming near Yellowstone Park - I was forced to ride with 3 other guys and our bikes in the back of a pick up truck driven by a Wyoming State DOT employee about 2 miles through a construction zone because the road was torn up and impassable ........... Fuel - gasoline probably from Texas.

2. Crossing Lake Michigan by ferry from Manitowoc, Wisconsin ......... Fuel - coal probably from Illinois 

3. Metro into and out of Bilbao ....... Fuel - Electric probably from the 2 big coal fired plants in Bilbao, but maybe wind because Spain had a lot of windmills. 

........... Now the train from Montelimar to Rousellonn north ........ Actually I believe it was a distance in a NORTH EAST direction ............. Which was actually taking me backward in my pilgrimage to the EAST........ Fuel - electric, most likely nuclear as France gets I think about 80% or more of its electric from nuclear and I saw 2 big cooling towers from a nuclear plant along the Rhone as I went north.

Before I left I wisely check in with the local Tourism Information and booked a place at a jete near the train station in Rouisallonn. 

When I arrived late in the afternoon, after a hot and smelly train ride it was even hotter still and I got lost trying to find the jete. But just when I was about to hit bottom and sleep on the street like a homeless person, I was rescued by a guy on a bike, the most amazing bicyclist and his wife and family.

I'm tired now and going to bed but will complete that story tomorrow ........ Boy I did go on tonight....... Don't worry I don't expect anyone is still reading this, it is getting late and I did ramble on. 

... well maybe I won't come home yet after all !!!!!

After a great big family dinner and a fun night in Montselgues I decided to reconsider my decision to come home. With the encouragement of Sarah and my family and reports from home that all is well and with the hard work of Corey my assistant at EVNE, I will continue with my plan to travel east.

Unlike Spain which was much more frugal and where I lived within the monistic and frugal alberges of el Camino. In France it has been the more refined jetes. The jete system in France is truly unique. Each one is very different. Some small and private, some very elegant, some very communal with shared baths, some with meals and starched sheets, some where you need to bring your own bedding and towels, but all clean and friendly. The jete last night was just a lot of fun. .......a summer camp for family's, complete with organized outdoor activities, dogs, games (I held my own at foosball but lost at a card game I didn't quite understand) a movie at night for the kids, big communal dinners with wine served like water.

This was the jete as I approached. It was entire once abandoned ancient village that was renovated into a summer camp for families .... high-up on the top of a plateau pretty much in the middle of no where.

My room was on the one on the 2nd floor with the 2 windows and the curtains drawn.

.... bustling with activity, I got a huge cheer and "Bon voyage" from the crowd as I set off this morning.

The day began high up on the plateau with a beautiful descent for about the first 10+ miles.

I was on a beautiful but empty well maintained road; what in the US I would call a State road (it had a white line down the center and generally a wall or stone barrier for protection on the cliff side), when I decided to be adventurous and take a less travelled, more like a county or town road that ran parallel.

It was fun for awhile but a learning experience. If I took this road on a climb it would have been fine although rather than a maximum 9 or 10% grade on the state road this on at times exceeded that by quite a bit. Though always paved on this very steep descent I had to look out for stones on the road and the surface could be like a roller coaster, and there was rarely any type of stone guard rail. I learned quickly that I had to keep my speed down below 25 mph.

All this being said It was fun. Amazingly even here there was, all around, incredible stone work in the bridges and retaining walls.

I got the feeling that the area was once more populated since often there would be a stairway or terraced stonework in the middle of no where with no house or habitation around.

Through much of this sometimes hairy descent I felt completely isolated and miles from any civilization. If I had ever let my speed get unchecked around a hairpin curve or hit a stone or big rut ...... well lets not go there. I was very glad to have Helen my touring bike with front and back disc breaks rather than Nellie. I eventually got safely back on the main road and the descent led to some inhabited towns and civilization.

...... in this case a medieval walled city.

I rode along some rolling flats for awhile until I got hungry and it started to get hot. In the charming village of Largentiere at about 1:00 I stopped and visited the local tourist office. The young lady was just leaving for lunch but told be where to go for .......

........ lunch ...... and a swim

When I returned to her office she had a great place lined up for me in a old historic village about 30 miles down the road. The little old lady who owned the building was there to see le Americano en bicycle and the both posses for a photo.

The day ended with a longer ride than I had expected, but partly because I had to pass through a more urban area .........

 .... France has its share of commercial strip roads and malls and even a McDonalds I passed. No picture they look the same in France.

Then I had 2 long climbs and a longer day; 75 miles, than I had expected, before tonight in a jete in Alba- la Romain a very old village with Roman ruins.

Recovered on the road to Montselgues

 I awoke feeling much better and reconsidered abandoning my journey and going home. Keeping all options open, I decided to continue east heading out of the pucker brush to the Rhone River Valley where I could, if I wanted catch a train to Lyon and home.

I said my sad goodbyes to Nellie.

..... and headed into some more beautiful country. 

With all of the deep gorges and canyons I had passed through the one thing that surprised me the most was that none of them had been dammed up!!!!!! 

Today just north of Villefort I saw the first and it was incredible.

First the lake created .....

....... the dam ....

Looking down the back side of the dam ....

.... and up ..... and up ...... and up, with the river, town and lake disappearing below. After going up for a long time the land flattened out and there were rolling hills with grazing cows and sheep for most of the day.

With my stomach now fully recovered I stopped for a nice lunch in a small town.

Late in the afternoon I began a long descent, into another beautiful village where I stopped to visit the Tourist office to find a room.

We booked a room, but I had one last long 600 meter climb.

Finally to the top ....

The town I am headed for below ..... I think I am in for a big descent, to a very different jete for tonight.

I will take some photos in the morning and fill in the details.

A day of recovery

The night past quickly as I slept like a log. Feeling better I went down for breakfast served at 8:00 and again family style at the big table. The breakfast was light, toasted French bread, jams, granola and coffee and I had a modest appetite. After breakfast I went back up to bed and fell asleep. When I woke up about 10, I made a decision. This place was so relaxing and beautiful and the food, even with a sour stomach, was beginning to taste good that I decided to stay an extra day and take a day of rest. I didn't even tough my bicycle.

Photos of my day of rest when I had a morning and afternoon nap, caught up on my blog, checked in on Corey and EVNE and sent some SOS emails home to Sarah, i.e. Dr. Horne.

The 2 sons home from school on vacation who loved to hear about America and to practice their English. The older boy is in med school and wants to come to NY City. I gave him Hannah's blog and Facebook.

The view from my bed while napping.

To stay the extra day I had to give up my nice big room and move to a smaller room with a sleeping loft in this stone annex building.

My room is 2 stories, the window by my bed is above.

The view from my bed.

Inside the loft area.

The day I stayed was a change over day with a whole new crowd arriving. Most people stayed a week or more. This group was 3 couples, no children. More upscale, a doctor, a health insurance administrator (in France a federal employee) and a police security investigator/lawyer (like the FBI) from Caen France. Though i asked none of the ladies would say what they did although they seemed bright and accomplished. Nellie the host cooked an incredible duck and a pepper and squash dish that were fabulous, no pasta, potato or rice.

Dinner that night was a real trip!!!!!! It was like sitting down to dinner at a close friends house with two local celebrities and the Queen of England for an elegant dinner with everyone speaking a foreign language. I felt like a deaf person, I couldn't understand a word they were saying, but just followed the conversation and the gestures and expressions and pretended i understood, laughing when everyone else did. I watched closely how they ate. Definitely a "small bites of salad" crowd, holding your knife in the left hand and the fork inverted in the right, and the trick was to have your napkin look like it wasn't used at the end of the meal. Another very strange thing was that between each of the 3 or 4 courses you used bread to wipe your plate absolutely clean, so that it was ready for the next round. You kept the same plate and never got a clean plate for salad, main course, cheese or desert. Everything was served "family style". Fortunately I had learned a little of the routine the night before at dinner when it was a little less formal and I think I did very well.

After we had enough wine to float the Titanic they caught onto me and peppered me with questions in English about my work, family and cycling trip. Questions came from one lady who confessed to knowing some English, and then she translated my answers to French. It really was a lot of fun. They thought I was this strange American because, as I was taught .... between courses to serve and to clear I got up to help Nellie, the host. I even went into the kitchen to help as she prepared this elegant dinner seemingly effortlessly. All the French were baffled by this, Nellie although surprised seemed grateful.

Nellie the host is on the front left.

The most ironic thing was that my Dalai Lama quote for the day was, "Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent".

I went to bed late but well fed and rested.

The bill the next day for 2 nights, 2 dinners (including wine) and 2 breakfasts was 115 euro ......... pretty good I thought. I want to bring Sarah for a few days ....... or maybe for next years ski weekend.

On to Villefort to recover

Being ill is a bummer, but being sick when you are away from home and can't just hunker down in your own bed to recover is the worst. Today I woke up and felt so bad I made the decesion to call it quits and head home. To get home I will have to ride 2 days to the nearest train station, so firts I found a pharmacy to get something to quell the war raging in my stomach. 

The pharmacy where I bought the amodiam that may have saved my life.

I then languished about town like the homeless desperado that I felt like, unable to face eating anything. I visited the office le tourismo and booked a room half way to the nearest train station to make my way home. The jete included a private bath which I would need. 

With no strength or energy I headed out at about noon at an embarrassingly slow pace. The day wasn't too hot and there were many cyclers with small children, old ladies and the infrrmed to all passing me by. 

The scenery was typically great but I didn't take much notice.

At one point I stopped to watch a game of bocci the local men were playing. 

I sat on a bench watching with some guys too old to play. I felt right at home with them. They were quite entertaining and ivery funny acting as a vocal gallery giving what I took to be advice and criticism.

 By now the medicine had seemed to have started to work and I had a sandwich at a little Italian restaurant that seemed to sit fairly well.

At about 6:00 I made my way into Villefort and got directions up the hill to my room at the jete. I staggered in having to walk the final 300 yards up a very steep section.  What a pleasant surprise ..... it was incredibly nice.

With an inviting looking pool.

..... and that night things started to turn around with a great family style dinner served by a very gracious lady to her diverse assortment of guests.

I went to bed beginning to feel a little bit better, but still grateful to hav a private bathroom.

To Montvert with a sickening feeling

The view from my room window last night. 

But, as with anything in life it is not always a bed of roses and there are thorns and I awoke this day 19 after a fitful sleep with a very sickening feeling in my stomach. I had been up during the night visiting the bathroom several times. I managed to get a little breakfast down in spite of no appetite and headed out on the bike think that that would settle me down. 

The ride was beautiful although I had little appetite for that too. I followed the Tarn up toward its source. With the usual array of scenic old sights ...

I stopped at a little out of the way spot and met a vacationing mother and daughter. 

The mother was an opera singer who wanted to hear all about the Boston symphony and Tanglewood but I know she knew more about it than I did.

The teenage son of the owner of the Inn I stayed at the night before had insisted on my stopping to swim at spot along the river, that with some difficulty I found. What a spot!!!

The pictures cannot possibly capture it but it was a spot where the river funneled down between some cliffs. I know why he recommended it, because all of the locals were there including most of the youth. The macho guys could show off jumping from these huge heights that made the cliff jumping at Squirrel Island look small potatoes.

.....and the teenage girls were all there to watch ......

The tower is something they built to measure and document toe flood level.

Then i hope that Hannah sees this but here in this remote out of the way spot, what did I see on the head of a local kid .......

 ......yes a baseball hat that said BROOKLYN .... not America, not NY Yankees, or Boston ..... but Brooklyn. I don't think he really understood why this crazy American was so excited and needed to have a picture taken.

The day ended with a struggle with my stomach in an uproar and my body depleted to ride the last 10 miles up the river to the town of Montvert.

I met and attempted to have some dinner outside by the river and met of 2 nice Belgian guys on vacation, but I could not even finish half of the Belgian beer they insisted on buying for me.

I stayed the night at a Spanish type communal Alberge that was filled with French families that were doing some sort of famous hike with donkeys over an old mountain trail. I felt horrible and even lost at Hearts to a bunch of rookies and kids who were playing cards.

I felt sorry for them all though because I was up at least 5 times during the night to run and stumble in the dark from my upper bunk bed to sit on the toilet. 

I wish I could have enjoyed and had some pictures of this neat spot and the really cute donkeys that they used to carry their packs, but my thoughts were only on the seismic eruptions going on in my stomach.

....... later on I found a picture from an old postcard of the donkeys. Apparently they raised sheep up on the plateau and used the donkeys to bring the wool down to the valley to be spun and made into yarn.