FRANCE

Sunny and cold morning, but warm in the afternoon. The day started with a steep, switch-backed climb to Port D'Envalira pass. This is the highest point, at 2,407 meters, that I have been in Europe. The climb was well-graded and thus not very demanding, and the reward was superb -- a spectacular 36 kilometer (1,700 meter) drop into Ax-les-Thermes. Most of the drop was during the first 18 km to L'Hopitalet, and then river grade down hill from that point.

In Andorra the road was wide and smooth and so, despite heavy traffic, was not difficult. Once I arrived in France the road narrowed considerably, and the heavy traffic made for some dangerous conditions. The French drivers passed me on the downhills without even slowing down. I had never confronted this before on such narrow roads, and so was forced to ride near the edge (even though I was going in excess of 35 mph).

Ax-les-Thermes is a beautiful small town located in the spectacular canyon of the Ariege River. I spent a couple of hours there eating my lunch in a pleasant park near the town center. Further north, near Terrascon, I saw a number of pre-historic cave dwellings which were visible from the road. This is one of the spots where Ice Age cave drawings were found.

I discovered today that my passport and traveler's checks had gotten wet and so, since I stopped early today (3:30) I have been drying them in the sun. This is another of the many pleasant, reasonably priced campgrounds I have stayed at in France. Fortunately, none of the campgrounds have been crowded, a condition I attribute to the end of the tourist season.

I've been doing a lot of debating on where I will go once I get to London. I do want to go to Thailand and SE Asia. India is much more problematical. I've met several people (including Bob of two nights ago) who have traveled widely there. Bob said that it turns your entire world "topsy-turvy", and that there is no experience that can compare to it--the crush of humanity is simply overwhelming.

September 13, 1992

120 km through Foix to a campsite at L'Isle-en-Dodon.

A great cycling day. Cool, sunny and calm in the morning, warm and hazy in the afternoon. The day was divided into three distinct phases: in the morning I rode on empty roads through a beautiful gently rolling valley. During this portion I stopped and had breakfast at Riviere Souterraine de Laboushie (at 3,500 meters, the longest discovered flowing underground river). The second segment began at Sabarat and was a straight flat portion during which I put my bike in high gear and rode as fast as I could for 30 kilometers. At la Fousseret I entered a section of steep up and down climbing with a lot of ridge line riding. There were some fine panoramic views which were, unfortunately, obscured by a field burning haze similar to the summer burnings in the Willamette Valley. I had to detour at one point because a road was closed due to a motorcycle race.

At L'Isle-en-Dodon I found a campsite not listed on my Michelin map. There is only one other camper here, a French cyclist in his 70's. Unfortunately, he does not speak English so we had only a limited conversation in French.

For one of the few times in France, I had a food problem today. The markets in this area close on Sunday, so even though I stocked up at 8:00 a.m. I was not able to find food until I arrived at my campsite tonight. The downtown area was closed off because of some kind of festival, but I managed to find a kiosk that sold pommes frites. I got an order and smothered it with half a bottle of ketchup (my emergency reserve food) for supper. It was actually quite filling.

The days are getting noticeably shorter as we near autumn. The sun has not been rising until 8:00 so I have not been setting off until close to 9:00 in the morning. This is a slight problem because I enjoy cycling in the hours before the world has awakened. There is something purer and more innocent about that time.

September 14, 1992

110 km through Masseube to a municipal campsite at Moncrabeau.

The skies today were threatening and overcast, and so was difficult psychologically despite the fact there was no rain. I took a rural route today and actually went through only two towns, Masseube in the morning and Condom late in the afternoon. The other places were tiny villages. The D150 stretch was flat so I was able to high-gear it. The other sections were rolling hills through farmland.

Near Meilhad I stopped at a site which had been turned into a monument for 75 Resistance fighters who had died there during a battle against the Germans in August 1944. The buildings were pockmarked with bullet holes and the remains of destroyed vehicles littered the grounds. The graves of the dead fighters were also at the site. During the rest of the day I saw numerous other tombs and monuments to the Resistance along the road. I love the French sense of history, which is also found in street names such as Rue de 8 Mai, 1945, Rue de 11 Novembre 1918, Avenue de Yuri Gagarin, Avenue de Marie Curie and Martyr de Science.

When I got to Moncrabeau the campsite was fenced and locked, so I went to the Mairie (town hall) in the village. The Mairie was closed but there was a worker there who retrieved the key, and drove to the site to open it for me. There is no charge, I think (I didn't pay last night either as no one ever came to collect the money). The site has several campers parked here, but I think only one other person is actually camping here.

I thought a lot about satori today. Although it is usually translated as enlightenment, I think ecstasy would be more appropriate. This is what I am seeking, and just as the Zen monks in the Zendo attempt to acquire it in part through physical labor, I am attempting to attain it through the physical labor of bicycling.

I was told by the worker that the municipal campsites are kept open in the winter for the gypsies.

September 15, 1992

100 km to a municipal campsite at Saint Sernin.

For the morning ride I followed a canal which paralleled the Garrone River (leading to Bordeaux). This was through the fecund Bordeaux Valley in which there was a veritable cornucopia of food growing, particularly apples, corn, grapes and tomatos. The corn should have been harvested long ago, so it is apparently used as cattle feed (in fact, I cannot recall ever seeing corn or corn products in the French markets). Today was a spectacular cycling day weather-wise. It was sunny and cool with the clearest, most unobscured air I've seen since I have been on the continent. I wish I had had these conditions in the Alps or Pyrenees.

Last night I'd set up my tent near the only occupied camper, a young male who looked like a gypsy. He wasn't sociable at all, and then turned up his music to maximum volume, so I moved my tent to the furthest reaches of the campsite. I woke at dawn and pushed my bike through a hole in the fence hoping to avoid any morning fee collectors. As I was riding away I passed the worker who had let me in the previous night. He just smiled and waved.

It is now 3:30 a.m. and I am having another fitful night sleeping. I have been waking frequently with assorted aches and pains, particularly in my lower back. I have also been having occasional coughing fits. I think this is because I've been smoking Gauloise sans filtre, or some other equally harsh brand.

I am the only camper in this huge campsite. It is absolutely calm and quiet (a real rarity) and is very eerie. It is actually a very beautiful night with a three-quarters moon and many stars visible. The sense of eeriness is exacerbated by the presence of numerous bats whizzing by in the moonlight. This has been a common occurrence at most of the campsites I have stayed at in France.

It is 6:15 a.m. and I have just awakened from another nightmare. This time the theme was abandonment (i.e. emotional rejection), another common nightmare motif. All of my fears are being exposed tonight.

September 16, 1992

115 km to a municipal campsite at Blanzac St. Foy.

Foggy and very cold (low 30's) this morning, but the fog lifted about 10:00 to reveal a brilliant sunny day. I got out without paying again by a dawn getaway. I'm not sure, but I may have been the only camper at that huge, beautiful lakeside site. It had individual spaces separated by hedges, similar to what one often finds at American campsites, but uncommon for Europe.

I encountered many rolling hills today, with frequent one and two kilometer climbs and descents. I went through a number of canopied forest areas that were wonderfully quiet and peaceful. It was a great day of cycling although the heat started to cause fatigue by the late afternoon.

France has been a fantastic cycling experience so far. The countryside is consistently beautiful, the people in the rural areas friendly and the prices reasonable (particularly at the Intermarche, Supermarche and Champion supermarkets). I am feeling very comfortable and have had few of the food problems that plagued me in other countries. The only real food problem has been the three hour lunch breaks that almost all businesses observe. I've dealt with that by buying enough food for two meals when I shop in the morning.

September 17, 1992

128 km through Genac to a municipal site at St. Marcient L'Ecole.

A hazy warm day with a a bit of a tailwind. Late in the afternoon rain clouds formed and there was heavy rain nearby but I only got some drizzle. I rode extra miles today because the first two campsites I went to (Prailles and La Creche) were closed and inaccessible. I haven't been able to find a tourist agency open or able to give me information so I need to rely on the Michelin maps. I had to pay at the site tonight, for the first time in 5 days, but it was only 15 Francs, so no sweat. I love these municipal sites.

My front tire is finally starting to split at the wear spot, so it probably has only a couple of more days of life left in it. It has gone over 11,700 kilometers so I certainly got my money's worth. I am going to have to be creative as my spare tire is in almost as poor shape and I doubt I can get a replacement for 27 inch tires outside of Paris.

Today's ride was over mostly flat terrain with a few climbs and descents. The towns have become less varied and less interesting, and the smaller ones often seem completely deserted.

I ate lots of blackberries I picked along the route. They are smaller than the American variety and not as sweet. I am getting enormous pleasure out of my cycling. As long as I avoid the main roads and ride on the secondaries I seem able to find beautiful, quiet and smooth roads with very little traffic. I do need to pay close attention to drivers coming the other way, however, as they tend to take corners in the wrong lane.

September 18, 1992

90 km through St. Loup to the municipal site at Thouars.

A difficult riding day with threatening clouds and a WNW (mostly head) wind that persisted the entire day. In mid-afternoon there was light rain, although by early evening the skies had cleared.

My front tire started to go today. The tube started bulging through at St. Generoux and because it was starting to rain I put a patch on the outside of the tire and partially deflated it so that I could do the 15 kilometers in Thouars. At the campsite I put two patches on the inside of the tire as well as a strip of puncture resistant material. Hopefully, this will get me to the ferry terminal.

This is another lovely municipal site, located on the river after a 20% descent from the town center. It was a tough riding day as I had my mind on the tire — essentially, I was waiting for it to explode. The wind and dark clouds did not help my disposition either. There was a lot of wide-open farmland today, with little scenery of interest. Also, the further north I go the less friendly the people seem -- more staring and fewer returned greetings.

I called Lynn last night and everything is still fine for my staying with her in London.

A few memories of France: Boales, a street game that every male in France seems to play; blue coveralls, the ubiquitous rural uniform for all of Europe except Scandinavia; tripe; skinned rabbits and chickens with their heads still on; cartons of 10 instead of 6 or 12 (a legacy of the revolution); the very low profile of the gendarmie; Maastricht and the NON! signs painted on the roadways; basketball courts; Syndicate d'Initiative (the local tourist office); Rue Victor Hugo, Rue Andre Malraux; ugly cemetaries with brick walls, no grass and above ground tombs; no mosquitos or flies; no deposits on bottles; open view urinals; yellow fog lights on all cars; the ubiquitous baguette; innumerable, often poignant monuments for the dead in all French Wars (WW I, WW 2, Vietnam and Algeria).

September 19, 1992

106 km through Le Puy Notre Messeme to a closed municipal site at Precigne.

A day of high speed riding on mostly flat terrain (some pancake flat). I felt incredibly strong today. The weather was overcast and threatening in the morning but it cleared up before becoming overcast again in the late afternoon. Rode on some nice empty roads today, thanks to the excellent Michelin maps. The patch work on my front tire is still holding up--I'm quite proud of it.

The northern towns are far less attractive than their southern counterparts. They are certainly more run-down, grimy and depressing.

I've really settled into a comfortable routine in France. I cycle into a fair sized town (with an Intermarche) in the morning, have breakfast and stock up for lunch. I then ride about 60 km before picking a camping destination. I then hit another larger town to stock up on supplies. I prefer the smaller town campsites but it seems as though many of them have shut down for the season. The tourist offices in this region are far less helpful in providing camping information than they were in the south. It is a bit irritating because I know that they have the information but just don't know where to find it.

I managed to stock up on toilet paper last night. It was the first site that had any that I'd run into for some time. I had been using my old maps, which unfortunately don't flush too well. However, all the sites have had hot showers (even the closed ones I have stayed at) which is an incredible luxury. I had hardly seen a free hot shower anywhere else in Europe.

September 20, 1992

103 km to a municipal site at Bagnoles de l'Orne.

Cool, overcast and threatening both in the morning and late afternoon, interrupted by a brilliant sunny period that made me glad to be alive. Rolling terrain (lots of cattle) with more patches of forest than I'd seen in northern France. Some forests had trees planted in perfect rows about 6 meters apart, giving a very bizarre effect, like a cemetery.

When I arrived in Bagnoles I was surprised to find it to be a major tourist center. Apparently there are some hot springs in the area. It was jam-packed with people, and as in all tourist spots, it was over-priced and filled with knick-knack shops. It is beyond me what would induce anyone to spend holiday time in a place like this.

I finally found an excellent guide to camping in the area and found that there is a campsite for 8 francs only 10 kilometers away. But I am mentally and physically exhausted tonight and will stay at the local campground tonight.

I have decided to go to the Normandy beaches before heading to Calais. I am ready to finish the European portion of my tour. I have little interest in playing the "tourist". My greatest joy comes from the cycling itself--the feeling of strength and freedom.

I have been watching some young boys running around my tent and screaming. At first this irritated me, but then I realized that they are closer, in their unself-conscious naturalness, to satori than I am. I had that quality once also—I was told I could play for hours oblivious to everyone around me. How I would like to re-obtain that innocence - to play and to live without self consciousness. The main reason I want to go to India is to see how far I can go towards that goal in the most hostile environment imaginable.

I wonder why I so persistently question what life is about. None of the women I have been with have such concerns. They did, however, need me to make themselves whole -- something I have difficulty comprehending.

September 21, 1992

114 km through La Plessi to a campsite at Port en Bessin (near Omaha Beach).

"Oui a l'Europe, 70% pour Maastrict" screamed the headlines of the morning papers. The afternoon papers however corrected this landslide prediction to the actual "oui" vote of 51%.

Another cool, threatening overcast day with occasional light rain. This is difficult weather psychologically because one never knows if, and when, the heavens will open up. I encountered a lot of up and down riding today with some shockingly long downhills (I had no idea I had gained so much altitude). I am now on the Normandy beaches on the Atlantic Ocean. I hope that tomorrow the weather will clear so that I can walk along those famous sites where the greatest amphibious landing in history occurred.

I met three English touring cyclists today at Aunay sur Odon. They were engineering students on a 10 day tour of Normandy, and were the first English speaking touring cyclists I had met since the Pyrenees. We had a good long talk over a glass of beer at one of the local cafes. They asked me which European women I had found to be the most attractive. After some deliberation, I told them that it was the women of Budapest, who I found to be exotic and mysterious.

I've seen a lot of mini-golf courses throughout this area, as well as a few regulation courses. Since the billboards advertising them were often in English, I suppose their primary customers are English and American tourists. There are no more squat toilets. I had gotten used to them, and now find regular public toilets to be a bit unsanitary.

Well, the night is still young and so I think I will take a walk down to the harbor in town.

September 22, 1992

70 km Colleville sur Mer to a campsite at Ranville.

Today I played the tourist. I bicycled to the American Military Cemetery at Omaha Beach. There I was moved by the 9,300 tombstones which filled the huge cemetery area. Many of the tombstones were of unknown soldiers. Their inscription read "Here lies in honored glory a comrade in arms known only to God". I then went into some of the German fortifications which dotted the bluffs above Omaha Beach. I was tempted to go in some of the tunnels that connected these fortifications, but thought better of it when I heard rats scurrying around in the darkness.

Omaha beach is about 7 kilometers long with cliffs on both ends and high bluffs through the remainder. There is about 50 meters of beach before you confront a fairly steep incline. This incline is covered with dense vegetation and has numerous deep gulleys and valleys. There were many places on the bluffs from which the beach could be defended, so I can see why it was such a difficult landing.

Near the cemetery were several monuments to the invasion. I was most impressed by a wall that had inscribed on it all the names of the missing Americans (more than 1,500) who either could not be identified or who had washed out to sea. Later in the day I visited a British cemetery (which included German graves) and a Canadian cemetery. Many of the tombstones in these cemeteries had personalized inscriptions which the families had apparently requested. I was very moved by many of these statements.

Tonight I am camping at Renville which was the first town liberated in France. The liberation, by Canadian paratroopers, occurred 4 hours before the D-Day invasion. I crossed the Pegasus Bridge which was the primary objective of the paratroops jump.

It was a miserable day weather-wise with periods of hard rain and drizzle. I was riding between storm systems and could see rain to both the north and south of me. I did get soaked a couple of times and spent much of the late afternoon drying off at a covered bus stop.

There is still a feeling of goodwill toward Americans in this area. Many people speak some English. The post office at Port en Bessin will only change traveler's checks in dollars, and at a 1% commission, about a quarter of what the money changers charge. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the rate of the dollar had been revalued 8% overnight--from 4.55 Francs to 4.95 Francs. I'm suddenly richer!

The war monument in Port en Bessin was interesting because it also listed the names of those accidentally killed by land minds after the war. There were more such names on that list than the local casualties of all other wars put together.

The manager at this campsite was, as has become customary, very friendly. All in all I've found the French to be the most hospitable people, with the exception of the Irish, I have encountered in Europe. This was entirely unexpected, as my memories of France had been primarily of the atrocious rudeness of Parisians.

Baguettes, Baguettes everywhere--half the people you see are carrying one. They are wonderful, although I must admit I've yet to find one as rich and delicious as though in Eugene's Metropol. Of course, the price of the French baguette is less than a quarter of the Metropol's.

September 23, 1992

108 km through Berville sur Mer to the municipal campsite at Yvetot.

A cold, wet and windy day. There was a threat of rain all day with occasional sprinkles--a Pacific Northwest winter day. I wore my coat almost all day and my rain pants until 3:00. This caused some problems as I would sweat profusely on the numerous one kilometer climbs and then freeze coming down.

I was not looking forward to today's ride because I was boxed in by the ocean and had no choice but to take several main (red and yellow on my Michelin maps) routes. As expected, the traffic was heavy and most of the roads were narrow. Fortunately, the road out of Gravendon had a shoulder because there was a strong side wind and every time a truck came by there was a powerful vacuum sucking me into the road. If there had not been a shoulder on this portion I could not have ridden it.

I went into a bizarre geological area (Morais Vernier) in which there was a steep 100 meter climb from a flat area followed by an immediate drop into a pancake flat, horseshoe shaped valley which was situated along a bend in the Seine River. I then crossed the Seine on a ferry (no charge for bikes) and went through an enormous petrochemical complex (Esso) in which the odor was almost overwhelming. As soon as I had gone through the complex I entered the lovely town of Notre Dame de Gravenchon which had unusual red roads and sidewalks.

I bought a Herald Tribune in Notre Dame (only my second such purchase of the trip) and caught up on the news of the day.

I am now resting in my tent, too cold to shower tonight. I have regularly been frozen by my showers of late, even if they did have hot water.

September 24, 1992

55 km through Dieppe to a private campsite at Berneval Sur Mer.

Awoke to a cold rainy morning. I did not get started until after 11:00 due to the rain, and it was still drizzling when I did get on the road. I had planned to go to a hostel because all of my gear is soaked, but changed my mind when the weather briefly cleared up in the late afternoon. The weather is bizarre because the wind bringing in the rain clouds is from the east (inland). A very strong easterly wind came in while I was in Dieppe, and this wind brought with it a torrential downpour which lasted about 20 minutes.

I saw some nice coastal scenery, particularly near Dieppe, which is a major port city. There were steep cliffs falling to a rocky (almost gravel) beach. This area has a very English feel to it. The houses, particularly in Dieppe, have English architecture. Also, the cliffs are reminiscent of Dover.

I am at one of the more unpleasant campsites of my French experience. It is crowded with French camping wagons and the only level spot for tents is drenched from the heavy rains of the past few days. I did however meet an English cycling couple who were also camped here. The woman (Mel) is an agricultural sciences student while her boyfriend is studying electrical engineering and is trying to find work with Bayer in Köln, Germany. We commiserated with each other on the poor weather we have been having, and then had an evening-long discussion on all manner of topics, including the reasons for the extinction of the dinosaurs. Mel's theory is that they died out due to constipation. Her thinking was that a lowering of the earth's temperature caused the disappearance of a type of fern which was essential to their diet.

September 25, 1992

88 km through Criel sur Mer to a campsite at Vironchaux.

Finally, a day with no rain. Cool with high clouds and a strong easterly (head) wind. An excellent fall day for football. My front tire finally blew today at Criel sur Mer, after an incredible 12,530 kilometers. I think I will write to Specialized about this tire. Maybe they will put it in a museum.

I saw the first power lawn mower that I had seen in my entire journey. I'd forgotten what an irritant they are. The big noise problem in France is mopeds. They are all over the place and their high-pitched whine can be heard over great distances. The motorcyclists are also loud, numerous and dangerous because the drivers are incredibly reckless. Countless times I have seen motorcycles flying down the center of a narrow 2 lane road between heavy traffic in both directions.

I had to wait awhile on an empty road outside Mensil Val because they were shooting a film. According to the man who stopped me, the film is entitled "Jeunesse Vivande" or Wild Youth.

Today's ride was on mostly flat terrain in wide open agricultural areas that ended abruptly at cliffs dropping to the ocean. It reminded me of scenes I had seen at Morro Bay, south of San Francisco.

I really started to feel like I had "hit the wall" today. I am exhausted and ready to take a break from cycling. I am eagerly looking forward to relaxing in London for a few days.

September 26, 1992

69 km to the youth hostel at Boulogne sur Mer.

A fine sunny fall day, with leaves falling everywhere and trees changing colors. There was a fairly strong easterly (mostly tail) wind, however I felt utterly and completely exhausted. My mood was not helped by an inability to find an open food or tobacco store until Montreuil (about 30 km into the ride). I'd rarely run across this problem in France, but I went through a couple of bizarre villages that were at least a kilometer long but had no stores whatsoever. Also, the road signs seemed to have disappeared and I found myself riding according to the sun for most of the morning. It was weird--I felt as though I was suddenly in the twilight zone. After the morning confusion I did, however, go through a lovely valley along the Course river. This was a very pleasant clean and fast moving creek.

Boulogne sur Mer is a large port city and was a pain to come into in the late afternoon. I did manage to find the youth hostel (up a very steep hill) which allowed me to camp for less than half the price of staying inside. But I still got to use all the facilities.

I decided to take a hovercraft ferry from here as the price is the same as Calais. So my continental touring will soon be over. It will be nice to speak English again.

CONTINUE ON TO ENGLAND