19-21 Sept. A tale of two countries
The principal cycling route along the west coast of France is called locally the Velodysee (vélo being the commonly used name for a bicycle, and Odyssey being what it is). It's also classified in the EU compendium of cycle ways as Eurovelo 1, and it runs from Brest in Brittany to Hendaye on the border with Spain in the South. It's one of the most famous routes in France and one of the main reasons I wanted to travel down the Atlantic coast and not inland. From Soulac I managed to get as far as the junction for Hourtin, about 50kms, where the path is closed from mid day every day because of the fires. I met a Frenchman at the junction on a "trike couché" or recumbent trike, and we traveled together by road to Hourtin. It was surprisingly hilly so when we got there I pulled over for a break, he kept going and I tuned in on the internet to watch some of the Queen's funeral proceedings. It was compulsive viewing but I eventually dragged myself away to get on with the journey.
South of Hourtin the road was brilliant. Not busy at all and plenty of room and as smooth as the proverbial baby's posterior. I got to Carcans, the next town at about 5pm and stopped for an apple and a drink, but I still had loads of energy so I kept going to Lacanau.
Here I found an Aire for Camping Cars but tents were not allowed and the police had already been on a round that evening from what I was told. But one of the travelers tipped me off about a quiet place I could put up the tent. Lacanau is on a huge fresh water lake, separated from the sea by the sand dunes that run all along this coast. The quiet place was on a little beach amongst a small outcrop of pine trees and to me it was like heaven. I hadn't eaten all day so I really needed to get re fuelled before doing battle with the tent. I fished out some sardines, vegetables and bread that I had brought earlier and feasted as the sun went down. A French guy burst upon the scene with a camera in his hand and leapt all over the place taking photos, asking me about myself all the while. He told me that his name was Richard, that he had lived in the town for forty years and he was supposed to be cooking supper for his mother but couldn't resist coming out to watch the sunset. He showed me his photos which were really good and sent a couple to my phone.
After he'd gone I set to work putting up the tent, I was very pleased at how inconspicuous it was and how quiet the area seemed to be. No sooner had I finished than Richard called me asking if I would like to come over for a beer. Well I had to refuse for several reasons, not least of which was that I had a full phone battery and I wanted to join the online meditation group, 5th Precept Sangha, of which I have been a member on and off for almost ten years. We have weekly online practice with a topic and sharing afterwards. I was very sorry to decline Richard's hospitality, but I was very pleased to be able to join the meeting as it was just what my spirit needed at that moment. An opportunity to share reflections on the dhamma, or teaching, of the Buddha, in a living contemporary context.
Next morning I moved off at first light, which was later than I had imagined, after 7:30, and struck out southwards, nominally towards my target of Audenge, where I was hoping for a warm shower. Again the roads were terrific and I ate up the kilometres, and got to Audenge just after lunch, but I'd had no reply from my warm showers host so had to write them off and keep moving South. At Ares the Velodysee track runs through the coastal towns and is open to cyclists again as far as Biganos. I went off route to a place called Le Teich to try and find a campsite but they were all closed. La Teich was quite an uncomfortable place for me, there was a lot of traffic, the roads were quite small and compressed and there was a sense of high speed and pressure. I wasn't the only one to be feeling like this as I witnessed an unpleasant road rage incident. I was very happy to get out of there back on a quiet straight country road which would surely lead me to a campsite somewhere. The road actually led to a series of industrial estates and for the first time on my journey I noticed accumulations of rubbish and fly tipping at the side of the road. This part of the country seemed to lie in contrast to the affluent area of the Bassin d'Arcachon which I had just left. Google maps showed a nice route that continued to exactly where I want to go, along minor roads, towards Parentis en Born. What it did not show was the locked gate at the end of the road. I'd gone too far to turn back and my faithful Czecki Mapi showed that I could make it through to another road if I followed a short unmade track. It was sandy and I had to push the bike, but I got through only to discover that the road was closed! But there was still another way out that meant crossing a railway line. The crossing was also closed, but I had gone too far and it was almost dark so I wasn't turning back. Camping out in this countryside was a definite no no. Apart from being against the law there were a huge number of wild animals to contend with, including the ubiquitous wild boar. My bike was heavy and there were two sets of rails I had to lift it over, but the adrenalin kicked in and I heaved an enormous sigh of relief when I got to the other side. A Google earth reconnaissance of the local area, which was actually pretty remote, showed there was a small village nearby called Caudos. It showed a water tower there, but not much else, and I thought that if there was nothing better I could sleep under that. When I got there and saw that it was right next to the road I knew I would never sleep a wink. All around were signs up saying private property keep out. I took my bike up a quiet little cul de sac and as I was looking round this guy peered out from his gateway and asked me if I was looking for something. I told him, yeah I'm looking for somewhere to put up my tent. He asked me why I didn't go and sleep in the forest and I told him that it was forbidden to enter the forest because of the fires. He agreed and said yes it was complicated, then he said there was a campsite about twelve kilometres away, but by the time he had finished his sentence he realised that it would take me the best part of two hours to get there and added that if I didn't mind sharing the garden with his dogs then I was welcome to camp there. Well they were the most beautiful dogs I have ever seen, long haired Labrador retrievers. One was a mature male, extremely sturdy, inquisitive and, I sensed, completely reliable, the other was a young female, extremely friendly but also a bit jumpy and nervous. My new friend introduced himself as Cedric and told me he worked as a foreman for a company that services and repairs domestic water heating systems and he would be leaving for work at 7:30 in the morning. He offered me a glass of rum and coke which I declined. I was by now so exhausted I just wanted to get the tent up and get to sleep. He was fine with that but warned me that there were a lot of wild animals about and I would probably get woken up, if not by them, then by the dogs barking at them. I said I was happy just to be with his dogs and behind a fence away from the boars. Finally just before saying goodnight he asked me not to shit in his garden and showed me where I could go on the other side of the fence. I said that unless the boars actually got into the garden I didn't think I would be needing a shit until approximately tomorrow lunchtime. He smiled and left.
I fell straight to sleep, relieved that I had found somewhere relatively safe. During the night, as he had predicted, Cedric's boar turned up walking, I imagined, along the fence, snuffling and grunting. This brought the dogs out who must have barked for at least half an hour, one of them stood right outside the tent and I fancied it was the older one offering me his protection. I didn't move or make a sound. I had set my alarm because I wanted to leave before Cedric to avoid any complications with the dogs etc, and I got the tent down and the bike completely packed and ready to leave with ten minutes to spare. The older dog whose name I'm ashamed to say I have already forgotten, came over and licked my hands in a gesture of familiarity. I was so sorry to be leaving him. Cedric made me a cup of coffee and we talked about the traffic on the road which was already very busy. People traveling to work in Bordeaux he said, and explained that he had paid 150,000 euros for his house, he didn't say when, but that it was already worth double the price. He blamed the increases on land values in the basin d'Arcachon and a familiar picture formed in my mind of how it is that increasing land values create economic pressures among ordinary people, cost of living increases, stresses and strains in daily life over which they have no direct control. Its the contrary process to the idea of wealth trickling down, for while the rich get richer, everyone else has to keep up. No wonder there is local road rage.
As soon as I had left I was filled with remorse that I had not taken a photo of this lovely man living alone with his two beautiful dogs. I never seem to learn about taking photo opportunities.
The road was not pleasant, although it was wide enough, and straight and smooth, there was a lot of traffic and some of it quite heavy, I'd got used to the quiet roads and cycle tracks and it was a bit of a shock to come back to industrial circulation. Cedric's coffee really hit the spot, it was the first hot drink I'd had in quite a few days, and helped me to enjoy exercising my perseverance in pursuit of the goal. And today's goal was the town of Parentis en Born where the Velodysee was open and I could pick up the cycle trail again. I stopped for some supplies in the town of Sanguinet, it was the day after the Queen's funeral and this was the scene in the shop.
Practically every French person I met expressed some form of condolence about the passing of the Queen, most of them qualifying it by saying they were not monarchists, but they had a lot of respect for the English way of life. Interesting that they nearly always say English and not British. And I wonder personally if there is very much difference between being a nationalist and being a monarchist. A fag paper perhaps.
It was turning out to be another great days cycling; beautiful weather, and a lot more of the brethren, fellow cyclists, around. I picked up the trail again at Parentis after stopping there for a long breakfast by the lake, and all of a sudden everything became worthwhile. This was perhaps the most beautiful part of the journey so far. Woodland edge, lots of shade, sand dunes and lakes. And no hills! My new destination was Mimizan plage where there were several campsites and I could get properly shaven and cleaned up before meeting Sylvie tomorrow. Here I am on video cycling next to a huge enemy missile testing area that covers many square miles along the coast.
https://youtu.be/vfx2VNuq-zA
Mimizan appeared to be quite an expensive resort. I took a swim in the estuary of the river Courant, which was very pleasant, then picked up my search for a place to stay. There were several campsites listed, but two of them, including the camping municipal were closed (is this becoming a trend, I wondered). Another only took bookings of one week or more and one more didn't accept tents at all! There was also an aire de camping cars but it was entirely paved over. Things were not looking very good. My last attempt proved fruitful, however predictably it was expensive. €22 for a night in what was a large and busy site on the south side of the town. The showers were great so it was worth it.
A quick trip out to the supermarket for some food and I was made.
