France by bike, day 3

Villedieu-les-Poêles

Well, I certainly slept the sleep of the just in Villedieu, and no ill effects from eating what I suspect was tripe for dinner.  Bread, cheese and a croissant for breakfast, and then it's back on the bike with another 60 miles or so to go.  I'm on the road by 10am, which given yesterday's performance means I am in genuine danger of missing the boat out of Caen... it depends as much as anything on the terrain, though at least today I am feeling a little more up for it.


Well, the hills continue, but seem rather more gentle, I'm mostly able to cycle up in bottom gear, my aging legs protesting all the way - followed by an exhilirating / terrifying rush downhill.  On the minus side, the rain that I've miraculously avoided thus far arrives in force, soon I am soaking wet from both the downpour and spray from the entirely non-absorbent French roads.  It doesn't seem to affect my ability too cycle much.  Passing drivers continue to sound their horns, eventually I decide they are encouraging me.  Not sure it is that helpful, though I do fell a bit guilty about the cars I gave the finger to yesterday...

Jesus it's a menhir...

Arriving in St Lo around 12.30, I pop into a bar to hide from the rain and have a warming coffee.  My request for a croque-monsieur is met with a gallic shrug though, it seems the bar is mainly a place to drink pommeau (a kind of apple sherry popular in Normandy) while betting on horses.  A bit early for lunch anyway, so I press on towards Bayeux.  The rain dies off at least, and the roads are flattening, but as I ride through miles of forest there is no sign of anywhere to eat.  It is 2.30 before I reach a roadside restaurant, where this being France, they are no longer serving food.  I'm actually thinking fondly of 24 hour little chefs, but fortunately they are able to rustle up a sandwich which turns out to be bigger than my head, phew.

Ancient burial site.

As the afternoon wears on I actually get some sunshine, and the going is easy enough, I breeze through Bayeux, and get off the main roads and into the fields, riding past a variety of roadside shrines, neolithic remains, and WW2 cemeteries.  Finally rolling into Ouistreham around 7pm, I'm a little concerned to find a series of shut bars and restaurants.  Well it is Sunday, what am I thinking?  Down by the sea however I'm able to find a brasserie for some beers, some soupe de poisson and best of all, merguez.  Even they chuck me out onto the terrasse at 9.30 mind you.  Never mind, it is time to get on the boat and head back to Portsmouth anyway.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

France by bike, day 2

MV Bretagne

May have drunk a bit too much last night, either that or the guillotine I got put in by a stage magician did more damage than it seemed at the time... Whichever, I'm really in no state to cycle, and though the roads in Brittany are straight and flat, progress is slow.  It's half past twelve before I spot the Mont St Michel, my planned lunch stop, and it's another hour before I get there... Still can't face beer so I revisit my childhood and have a diabolo menthe with my crudités, moules frites and tarte aux pommes.  Yum.

The Mont is an amazing place, shame I have neither the time nor the energy to explore much of it.  As it is I struggle through the Japanese tourists along a few medieval fortifications and vertiginous stairs before getting back on the bike.

Mont St Michel

Sadly progress continues to be slow.  I feel a bit better, but Normandy proves to be quite hilly... Avranches is particularly bad, a long steep push alongside a dual carriageway to get to it, and then what turns out to be a footpath out of town, so steep I have to walk.  It's a hard slog to Villedieu les Poëles, and I finally roll in at half past seven - there are probably people who could have run it in better time.  In time for dinner at least.  Must say I'm not too impressed by the French attitude to bikes though... I actually got beeped a couple of times today, thought that only happened in America. And the hotel charged me seven euros to put the thing in their garage.  Tut.

I'm in France alright...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

France by bike, day 1

Alice Holt Forest

Well, Holland was fun last year, and the French are up there with the Dutch as reputed cycle-lovers.  We shall see.  For now I just need to get to Portsmouth in time for the ferry, not hard given I cheated and got the train to Farnborough last night.  Cheers Mum and Dad for putting me up :)

Still, plenty of hills between me and the South Coast, requiring a fair bit of pushing.  At least it's not raining, much, though rivers are swollen and fords impassable.  I also struggle to find some lunch, passing through several villages with neither shop nor pub, I settle for Petersfield Tesco in the end.

The drought continues...

I ride a bit of the South Downs Way - probably easier on a mountain bike, and from there the going is easy enough to Portsmouth.  Time for a beer or three in the Drake before getting on the ferry.  Nice place, looks like there will be music later, but I have places to go.

I do like these overnight ferries I must say, there is a bar, a good restaurant, even a bit of entertainment.  A sort of mini-cruise, the mini bit being good as I'd go stir crazy on a proper cruise I'm sure.  Whereas here I'll be off at 8am tomorrow with another 60 miles to do.

The Admiral Drake.

Photos to go with this post can be found here here.

South Downs Way Day 2

Sunday morning, and not enough sleep what with the clocks going forward.  Still, I reason that as a result sunset won't be until around 7.30, so I can justify a 9am breakfast - a full English has to be a good preparation for a long day of walking.  I'm feeling just about ready for it, my brand new boots (made in the Ukraine!) seem good, only a couple of fairly benign back-of-heel blisters have appeared.  So, onwards - firstly retracing my steps for 3 miles or so out of East Meon and up to the ridge where I left the Way last night.

Back on the ridge, looking North West

Before long I'm heading down to cross the A3, and somewhat surprisingly it is really rather scenic, the way passing through Queen Elizabeth Country Park, and then on over Butser Hill.  It is actually quite steep at times too - the ridge that the route runs along dipping down now and again, it is vaguely reminiscent of Hadrian's Wall albeit much more gentle.  I have a lot of company too on what is another glorious day, plenty of mountain bikers and a lot of teenaged walkers.  The latter tend to have massive packs, and presumably being on an organised trip, they all rather amusingly are wearing hi-vis clothing.  Rural Hampshire being a wild and dangerous place after all...

Pretty hard to get lost up here

I have no time to linger though, and the Way leads on along the ridge, past more burial mounds, a trig point, and along a Roman road.  Being a bridle path and cycle track, there is generally a stony or metalled surface rather than a grassy footpath, and even with proper boots on this is hard on the feet, particularly as I really need to keep up the same 3mph plus pace as yesterday.  Good thing I brought a couple of ibuprofen tabs really.  No pub for lunch today, I could have gone a mile off route to one but that would have pushed the mileage for the day over 30, so, instead I sit in a sunny field for half an hour and eat mini baby bels.  There are worse ways to spend your time.

Amberley and the Arun valley.

Eventually the path starts to slope downhill, and I can see the river Arun winding through its valley up ahead, and my destination for the day, Amberley, nestling below a cliff.  Just in time as the sun sets, and I'm able to put my feet up with a refreshing pint in the Bridge Inn.  Actually several pints - my watch has managed to lose 10 minutes during the day, or maybe I messed up moving it forwards, either way the result is I miss the 8.04 train and have to wait 'til the 9:19.  Ah well, having walked 28 miles, a personal record I think, a few beers are surely a reasonable reward.  It's not much past 11 when I finally get home, time to start planning the second leg then :)

South Downs Way, Part 2 is here.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

South Downs Way Day 1

Spring seems to have sprung with a vengeance, so, about time to pay a bit of attention to the UK rather than swanning off to the continent every weekend.  Time for some long distance walking in fact!  Now, last autumn I was looking around for somewhere to hike within range of London, and ended up in the Peak District... while that was good, it did later occur that there are some actual long distance paths in the South East - not least, the South Downs Way.  I guess I'd discounted it, along with other relatively nearby routes such as the North Downs Way and the Ridgeway, on the basis of having looked at these paths in the past, and having noticed a distinct lack of campsites.  But nowadays I can actually afford hotel rooms, so, time to see what these relatively nearby trails have to offer.

Winchester Cathedral

A shoe-in for best pub in Exton

The South Downs way runs for around 100 miles from Winchester to Eastbourne, so the start is only an hour's train ride from Waterloo, and even better I can stop at the parents' for a tasty bit of carb loading on the way.  My first time in Winchester, plenty of ancient buildings seem fitting for this former capital city of England.  It would be nice to spend a bit longer, at least until the pubs open... but I have 25 miles to go today, time to crack on.  The going is pretty easy to begin with, nothing like the Peak District or the Pennines here.  Rather a flat plateau, and it appears the whole route is a cycle and bridleway as well, so not much gradient to worry about, although it looks like the walking and cycling routes diverge at times.  A bit of a hill - and even a trig point - does turn up just before lunch, which I spend at the charming Shoe Inn at Exton.

Short cut!

A bit more up and down in the afternoon, the Way heads up Old Winchester Hill where there are bronze age burial mounds and an iron age hill fort.  The route follows an undulating chalk ridge, and is so well signposted that I think you could do it without a map, and I only really need my GPS to find pubs... speaking of which, after 18 miles I hit a bit of a dilemma.  A sign indicates I could get to the Inn where I plan to stay the night in only one mile, whereas the plan is to keep going on the Way and then circle back.  If I take a short cut now, I'd be faced with either over 30 miles to walk tomorrow, or with missing out 4 miles or so of the official route.  I'm sure that on the Pennine Way 12 years ago I'd have taken the short cut without a care - though that sometimes didn't work out so well.  But today I trudge on along according to the plan... be it OCD or whatever, I'm going to make all 100 miles.

Ye Olde George

In any case it's not too late when I get to Ye Olde George Inn at East Meon, where it appears my mum and dad have followed me, well, nice to have some company over a few beers and an excellent dinner.  Also nice not to have to sleep in a tent, as while it was unseasonably warm during the day temperatures are dropping towards freezing now.  Surprisingly mind you, I could have camped had I wished, though none of my maps mark it as a campsite the Sustainability Centre is full of tents.  I'd probably have to sit through lectures about recycling or some such though...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Skiing by coach

Last ski trip of the season, and it's back to Brides les Bains, my favourite destination for a weekend trip mainly because you get so much bang for your buck...
Leaving work on a Thursday, I take a train from Fenchurch Street to Chafford Hundred, and then skirt around the monument to consumerism that is Lakeside Shopping Centre to find myself in the charming environs of Thurrock Services.  From which the skiweekends coach picks me up promptly at twenty past six, a coach that will be my home for the next sixteen hours or so.  It really isn't that bad though... after getting some booze down me and watching a bit of Lee Evans I drop off to sleep, and next thing I know we're in the alps.

Meribel in December

Up on the mountain by 10.30 or so, and the weather has improved just a little since my last trip here back in December.  This time I have a plan, dotted around the huge three valleys ski area are 14 or so lifts which make up something called the 'escapade', if you can get to all of them you get a certificate.  Well it passes the time :)  People have done it in one day, so surely I can make it in 3?  I get off to a decent start anyway, ticking off all the necessary lifts in the Meribel valley, plus the one in St. Martin.  The skiing is great, though I do notice for the first time that the three valleys doesn't have a lot of blacks... lots of good reds mind you.

A bit more like it

On Saturday though things go a bit wrong - I head over to Val Thorens, and after a little while I notice that the escapade points marked on one of the big maps doesn't match my plan.  Turns out that they change the things... I need to amend my route a bit, and am pressed for time, more so when I make a bad choice of lunch venue and wait around for 15 minutes before giving up on being served.  Eventually I have to accept I'm not going to make the two lifts in Les Menuires today, which means getting to them on Sunday, and then schlepping back over to Courchevel.  It doesn't really help matters when that evening I consume a litre of white wine with dinner, then numerous green lagers (it being St. Patrick's day) and then I'm roped into a quiz team, we win first prize and of course it is yet more booze.

Heading back to Meribel on the Sunday

So, me and my hangover head out the next morning, and actually completing the escapade proves easy enough.  I have time to do a bit of boarder-cross too, and still get back to Meribel for my certificate by 3.30.  The snow is coming down now, and I get in one last run before heading back to the hotel, time for a shower and some last minute shopping before getting back on the coach.  We make good time through France, and I'm back at my desk for 9am - three days of skiing with only one day taken off work, can't be bad.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Bulgaria in retrospect

Well, that was all good fun, great skiing, good company and good food.  Very cheap too, can't see me staying in a penthouse apartment on top of a four star hotel in France any time soon.  And generally my crazy plan of hiring a car and driving all round the country worked - a bit of a shame I didn't investigate a bit further how bad the roads would be.

Black run at Bansko

Would I do a similar trip to the same country again?  Sure.  I'd plan things a little differently though... at this time of year, I'd say spend 3 days at Borovets, then to Bansko for 3 more, then get up the next morning and drive to Mount Vitosha, just south of Sofia, where there is a ski resort.  Not a big one, but worth a day trip.  Then back to a Sofia hotel and an easy drive to the airport the next day, sorted.

It would be nice to go back to Pamporovo, not least to cross off 'the wall', I wouldn't drive there from the west again though.  I'd say, go in late April or March, get a modern, 4 wheel drive car (actually I think that applies to any Bulgarian trip), and fly to Plovdiv, just(!) 85km from the resort.  And, it turns out there is another resort, Chepelare, only 10km from Pamporovo, which sounds worth a look too.

No, it is just a bar with a dancefloor, really.

So yeah, come to Bulgaria, it's fun for all the family.  Just don't take your mum to the 'night club'...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.