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May 4 Thursday sunny hot humid 30º C Bicycle touring France Got up earlier today. It has been hot from 11 AM to 4 PM, so we figured maybe we can try getting some cooler bike riding time in before the heat hits and then we can take it easy when it is hot. Cooler, all right. My fingers were freezing as we started cycling. I considered digging out my gloves, but by that time we were approaching the town of Void. Phoned Vern and Enza to see if they were still planning on cycling in Europe this summer. I got the answering machine the first two times, but the third time Vern picked up the phone -- groggily -- obviously he's been sleeping ... and it's only 11:30 PM back in Edmonton Alberta. Vern said his contract at NAIT was extended another year. He enjoys it, but he is busy. He started a business teaching self-defense. He bought another bike to replace his crashed one last year and one for Enza too, so she can go on club rides. Consequently, they have no money for trips abroad this year. Too many toys, and all the best, of course. They plan to cycle tour the west coast of British Columbia BC this summer. We mailed our package -- 27 francs ($7.50). No film in this batch. Suddenly the weather seems to have turned the corner. It is another clear, sunny, hot 30º C day. Humid, too. Rather sticky to be cycle touring in France. France sure is a great country for cycling with all its scenic rivers and streams. France is very rural and picturesque. Charming. Houses are different in this northern part of France than the south or west of France. Farmers have attached barns to their house. Sharon's brother, Loran, would like that. He wouldn't have far to walk to work in the morning. He could cut a door in the bedroom wall to the barn and walk straight through. What a concept. Or when cows are calving, he could just put a stethoscope against the wall to listen for labour pains while his wife was sleeping. Probably the only thing stopping Loran would be his wife, Annette. Cycled past some charming French villages with roosters roaming main street and crowing at one another. It sounded like a rooster crowing contest. And the barnyard smells in the middle of town.... Holy cow. Does Paris know about this? It is a different French culture altogether. Even the people here are not as petite. Went into two colossal churches built in new Roman architecture. Amazing how such small towns have such humongous churches. The stained glass windows are a beautiful kaleidoscope of colour burst. We plopped our fully loaded touring bicycles on the grass and ate lunch while watching the lazy Meuse River slide by. After lunch I had to take a major dump -- I was afraid to sit on my bike seat. I looked for a toilet in a town, but seeing nothing familiar, I asked a person standing outside their house. They didn't understand my "twalet poobleek" lingo. With deep brown eyes, I desperately looked at Sharon for assistance. Her version of the secret code word for today brought enlightenment to the homeowners. But the man sadly informed me there were no public toilets in town. My pained expression apparently crossed the language boundary. He said I could come inside and use his. Sweet and merciful Jesus. I quickly and gratefully did. Drivers in France have a different perception of cyclists on the road than back home in America. It is a lot nicer to have cars go by with people sticking their arms out and clapping for you, than in America where if you see someone sticking an arm out the window, it more than likely has an extended middle finger protruding from it, or they're going to attempt to grab your bike's safety flagpole as they scrape by. We cycled into Vaucherville and saw an open window. I went over to ask for water to fill our water bottles, since it was almost time to camp. There are no screens on windows in this part of France. People keep their windows wide open. I guess the bugs (they have plenty) just fly in and then fly back out again. Unlike back in Alberta, where once bugs get in, they are imprisoned. People in France use their windows like we do doors. If I knock on a door, usually the homeowner will poke his head out a window. So now I usually knock at the window first, especially if it's open. The old woman who came to the window had one lone tooth in her head. I guess she keeps it in case she has the urge to eat corn on the cob? She filled my three bottles with delicious cold water. Her husband came to the window and soon we had a stilted conversation in pidgin-French going on. They were very friendly with lots of questions and good wishes. A forest was nearby. Sharon wanted to be by a stream, so she could wash up after our sticky day of bicycle touring. I saw a sign that said "Forest Workers Only." A bar gate was across the muddy gravel road. I immediately knew it would be a good spot. Likely, no night visitors. We pushed our fully loaded touring bicycles around the gate and went into the forest. Sharon found a great free camping spot by a creek. She plunged in and had a splashing good time. It must have been darn cold though, because when she washed her hair, she said that her brain was freezing. This area of France has seen battles in both World Wars. As I looked around the forest at various spaced depressions, I couldn't help but wonder if they were ancient fox holes. |
