11 Août à 15 Août

11 Août à 15 Août
Cerbère
Orléans
Blois
Tours
After a day lounging in downtown Cerbère, first at Café La Plage (where I warmed a seat for three glorious hours), then in the deeply shaded town square, finally on a worn leather couch in the quiet Café Dorade, I caught the night train to Orléans. I shared a berth with 4 kids travelling back home to Paris after a lengthy cycle tour from Toulouse to Perpignan. In the early hours when I rpse in order to prepare for disembarking, and I found myself in the company of Raul, an Argentinian doctor living in Spain, travelling through different regions of Europe by bike during every holiday. What a world!
My head spinning, I found my way into Orléans centre and some tea and WiFi across the plaza from the gigantic Cathédrale Sainte-Croix d'Orléans. As soon as the Office de Tourisme opened, it was "Please find me a hotel!" And did they! The Jackotel was PERFECT. Nestled in the city centre, a garage to park my beloved bike in, inexpensive yet well kept. J'ai bien dormi.
Orléans invited me into her narrow streets and profound history. Jean d'Arc stands at the very center. It is hard to imagine a young woman stepping from a nondescript farm into the royal favor, leading the downtrodden and defeated army of France into victory. It is easy, unfortunately, to imagine her being condemned to death at the stake for wearing men's clothing.
From Orléans, I puttered my way downriver to Blois. About 60 km of flat effortless riding. Just right pur moi.
Rain started in the night and continued through the following afternoon. After whining to myself while breakfasting within the partial shelter of a sodden oak tree, the realization came à moi on magpie's wings. With much sqwalking and displaying of black and white, the silver lining of the day was revealed: must tour Le Château Royal du Blois. After all, to see at least one château while in la vallee de Loire est de rigueur. Arriving at noon sur la portal de le château gave this damp cyclist an hour to explore on his own before the English guided tour began.
And what a tour it was! With only myself and a young Polish fellow as customers, our brilliant, charming, quadrilingual, enthusiastic tourguide gave us the AAAA tour. Two hours later, much wiser regarding the nomadic courts of France, the convoluted succession of monarchs, the assassination of the Duke de Guise, and the serial construction, destruction, reconstruction, replacement, & restoration of the many sections of the venerable château, she left us to our own devises. Merci, merci, merci!
I wish that I could see the discolored, mostly drab beige and white stones painted the vibrant reds, blues and yellows as the designers and builders intended.
By après-midi, under a sky packed and grey, but with dry pavement, I pointed myself downriver. Not more than 10 km later, lost in silent reverie, a cheery voice hailed moi sur a droit, un'ere en Francais, then in Anglais. It was John, who was to be my cycling companion until Chaumont-sir-Loire. A teacher from the far southwest of England on his annual camping holiday in France, he was out for a spin on his well loved Raleigh Pulsar. As you can imagine, we were soon comrades tilling the fertile conversational soils of education, politics and travel.
Left to my own devises, I turned to contemplation of dinner. It was Dimanche and I was sans fromage. Would anything be open in Amboise or Tours? Before I had any time to contemplate this sad state of affairs what should appear before my eyes but a cave in the cliffs with a sign reading "Vin! Fromage chèvre! Dégustation gratuite!" By the time my wheels had come to rest, Ivés was up from his table at the doorway and ushering into the cool confines of his cavern. After tasting his delicious fromages, he insisted that I boive un verre de vin rouge. To clear moi palate, of course.
All too soon, it was "Au revoir! Bonne courage!"
My mind and stomach now at rest, it was but moments until my arrival at Les Acacias. The weather gods are tres gentile pur moi. It only started raining in earnest after I had set up ma tente.
Ah, but this morning, forced from my nylon home by the stifling heat, it was evident to all of us sun-starved citizens that brilliant, warm, life giving sunshine ruled. Laundry is clean. Everything is dry. And touring the grand city of Tours awaits this traveller. Tomorrow, I am off to Paris sur la train....