France feels like a distant country from which I have taken many vivid memories of the bizarre and the peacefully simple. Sat by Lake Garda with the 'epic month' (self named) soon upon us. The spirit is primed for the attempt, but the achilles feels brittle.
France was broken into four stages; Normandie, the Loire, the Rhone and the French Riviera. They were all lined by beautfiul weather, red saddle sores and almond croissants. It was the destination for our descent from societal norms and our decivilisation, as we explored the forgotten frontier of Western Europe by wild camp.
Normandie villages, flat roads and beautiful countrside set a high standard for the trip. As we moved to the Loire we saw some spectacular buildings - the chateau in Sully-sur-Loire - but it became more industrial around Sancerre. The rivers were vast and the hills between the major rivers were tough to climb but hid ideallic villages. The entrance to the south coast of France at the sapphire waters of Nice felt like an achievement. An evening and celebratory morning in the hospitality of Andy's godparents was lovely and, clean, we headed off along the French Riviera - enjoying the juxtoposition of wealth in Monaco...
The element of the trip which makes it so enjoyable is the freedom, summed up by our choice of accommodation and travel. I rise at 6:30am and check we still have two bikes, Andy rises 10-20 minutes later, at his leisure. We hit the road by 7:30am and seek food which we eat in large volumes by the side of the road. Then we cycle, listening to music, chatting or just looking about. Around 12-1 we start to get hungry and find bread, cheese and other things to eat. If lucky we can also clean pans, or clothes in supermartket or other public facilities - along with seeing to other regular requirements.
We ride through the afternoon, stopping for snacks or to ask people for water and around 5-6pm we look for some dinner rations, hot or cold. By 7 we try and look for a suitable spot to wild camp. We fret about being caught for 1/2 hr then set up, baby wipe, eat and sleep. Then we do the same the next day...but with a hundred different quirky variations. It's really very liberating.
Wild campspots are never the same twice. Cheese varities and croissant and pastry options are vast and a cyclists' appetite in France means you become a connoisseur of both. The towns, villages and countryside change slowly enough to become well acquainted with regions but fast enough to see a wide variety throughout the days and weeks. Baby-wiping, crotch creaming, roadside washing/relieving, nakedness and dirtiness. These all occur daily in weird, unsavoury and disreputable forms.
No comments:
Post a Comment