To France on a 81” straight gear
This is our third trip to France – It’s become our Rosebud, hook-up the caravan and off to the beach for the hols.
The first trip took us to the South of France of the Languedoc and Provence areas before scooting off to Italy and then Tuscany, Venice and back to Paris.
Great experience but no bike.
Last May I took my long service leave and my old steel single gear bike back to France. The same bike I finished 20th in the 1983 Warrnambool. It was the first Pro-Am Warny that John Hine from Geelong won. The bike did have a seven-speed cluster back then.
Anyway this second trip took us back to Provence with stays in Arles, a Gallic Roman city and on to Avignon, the city of the Popes when they lost their popularity in Rome.
We stayed for a week in St Remy de Provence where I had the chance to take the bike out of the bag for the first time. The weather was great leading into spring with poppies popping up by the country lanes.
St Remy was the final home to Van Gogh where he painted some of his most memorable masterpieces.
My rides started ay 6.00 am so I could be back home by 8ish to join my wife Sue for breakfast of coffee and croissants. After breakfast it was off to the markets and then taking the leased Citroen to the many small villages in the area.
Late afternoon was spent in our villa courtyard sipping a rose with local cheeses before Sue prepared the meal from the local market produce purchases.
After dinner it was a short walk into the fortified village, into the square for coffee and a desert wine. Bliss on a balmy spring night.
The second week we took off to a little village of St Chinian in the Languedoc region where we stayed the previous year. St Chinian is a cyclist’s heaven with quiet roads, challenging climbs and beautiful villages and scenery.
The local bike shop has a photograph of the owner’s father arm in arm with the Badger, Bernard Hinault.
On a drive through the hilly Cathar region we stopped at a village for another glass of Rose where a whole group of Belgium lycra clad cyclists were enjoying a glass of ale or three when I asked if they would take our photo.
One of the cyclists proudly proclaimed he came from the same village as Tom Boonen. Well, not to be outdone, I just happen to mention that I was from the same village as Stuart O’Grady and Cadel Evans – Oz really is a big village.
The next leg took us through Jalabert territory of Castres and Mazamet to Albi where the Tour passed by the previous year. We stayed at the same hotel as the CSC team stayed. The concierge told me a few tales that I won’t repeat here.
As we travelled further north into the Lot and the Dordogne regions, the morning cycling rides became even more memorable. The village of Le Bugue where we stayed for a week had the perfect old time French bike shop. The owner, surely a past Tour de France contender would casually lean in the doorway of his dilapidated shop smoking his Gitanes and watch the world go by. I wish I could have engaged him in conversation. He would wave each morning as I rode by.
Our next week-long stay was in the Loire, which was the perfect cycling area for a flat-lander trackie like myself.
Chinon was the village where Joan of Arc, a young woman of 18 years convinced the Dauphine of France to grant her an army to defeat the English and regain his crown as the rightful king of France.
Our next leg took us to Normandy where there are more old, big concrete velodromes in one area than anywhere else in France.
While staying in the coastal port of Honfleur at the mouth of the Seine, I probably had one of the cycling experiences of my life.
While descending into a deserted little village I noticed an elderly gentleman sitting on a park bench, cane in hand and beret sitting at the appropriate angle on his head. As I rode towards him, I flashed a wave and a smile and he returned an “Allez, Allez”.
Beat that!
Our final week was in Paris where I met up with an ex-pat Oz who is part of the French legion of the Melbourne Bayside Bandidos.
Riding in Paris peak hour traffic was a little more relaxing following a local. Mind you, I did see several “senior aged” ladies on the typical French ladies bike with a basket of baguettes.
My Paris friend took me to the regularly used parklands used by serious cyclists for training. One of which houses the Jacques Anquetil Velodrome. This was the venue of the Tour de France for several years. Eddy Merckx rode into this Velodrome to record one of his victories.
To say I can’t wait to pack the old straight gear bike for this next trip is an understatement.
