BACK HOME

You can normally find me cycling the little lanes of Dartmoor and around the beautiful South Hams in Devon when at home. This is a special place for cyclists known as Marchant's Cross.

To find it, you must cycle to Meavy. This is about 12 miles from Plymouth on NCN274. When you arrive at Meavy, an ancient oak tree will be seen with the Royal Oak Inn behind. It is essential to stop here to enjoy a glass of cider or scrumptious local beer on the green. Only when fortified must you carry on to find Marchant's Cross. It is about half mile from the pub and adventurous cyclists can cross the river by a rather tricky ford but for those who like to keep their feet dry, there is also a bridge

CHANGE OF PLAN

I am now back home. I had a telephone call from my wife and, while she did not say so, I am needed back home. I sat down with Dagmar and explained what happened.

My trip has finished at Carcassonne one week early instead of Barcelona and I felt very sad for Dagmar, The trip had been going so well up to now. She decided to return home as well.

We looked on the internet and a train to Paris that carries bicycles leaves at 09.51. Dagmar wonders if this would be a good train for her as well. We cycle to the station and after a long wait we are told that this train is full. The next train is at 14.29, involves a change at Toulouse and arrives in Paris at 23.20. Dagmar finds another route home. The train company asks if they can book a hotel in Paris for me and gives me a reservation. Dagmar and I say farewell and resolve to meet again for another cycle trip.

There was a canal and cycle path outside the train station so I peddled off. Many of the boats carry bicycles. This is just like in England where people who live on canal boats have bikes. They are handy for shopping or going to the pub. I ride along the path to find some locks. There are several cyclists and boats. I then head off along a country lane and find vineyards, a quarry and a holiday place. Lorries rumble outside the holiday place and it would not be a nice place to stay.

It is a long train journey to Paris. Some French trains are covered in graffiti and makes them look ugly and unwelcoming. My train however was on time and quite comfortable. I arrive in Paris, cycle out of the train station, across the River Seine and find my hotel at midnight. I check in and am told my reservation has been cancelled! I want to scream but instead show them my reservation and give them grief. They find me another hotel. I cycle on and ponder where I am going when I see lots images of girls trying to entice me into their establishments. My new hotel is fine and I am given a garden room where my bike joins me in my room

Next morning I cycle across Paris passing the Bastille. There are some very good cycle paths but not at the Bastille where I join what is normally a mayhem of traffic, except that today it is quiet. I quite enjoy the ride.
The cost of a Eurostar ticket bought on the day is frightenly expensive but I have no choice. I buy another ticket for the bike at baggage check-in. On the Eurostar train I fall into conversation with an Australian lady who asks about the storms in Devon in February. It was big news in Australia. I tell her and she compares with a forest fire at her home where she had a lucky escape.

In London, it is 2 miles to Paddington. There is traffic everywhere and I am stuck. I am told there is a strike on London Underground. I still cycle faster than everyone else but it is very busy. And here is the good news. Taking a bike on an English train is easy. There are no long waits. I just caught the next train and sat back watching for the west country to arrive. There is one last story. My train passes Dawlish where the railway passes alongside the sea. Today it is high tide and the sun is shining. Small waves wash at the foot of the train. All the children on the train look out to sea with wonder in their eyes. This is one of the most amazing train journeys in the World. Yet in February the ferocious storm mentioned by the Australian washed away this railway and it was closed for 10 weeks for the repairs. The pictures of Dawlish were seen across the World

Here are a few images of Carcassonne:

THE BLACK MOUNTAINS

I asked Dagmar what was her most memorable moment today. She said the village of Villeneuve-Minervois. We had just cycled across Montaigne Noire from Mazamet and this involved a 14km long hill and 800m climb into cloud. Villeneuve-M was at the bottom of the mountains on the south side. There was an avenue of statuesque beech trees lining the road in the village centre. The houses each side and pavements were all beautifully kept. Better still the sun came out and we were able to drink coffee outside.
My most memorable moment was a very scary dog. I did not say the memorable moment had to be good. We had just started the climb at Mazamet. On the right side of the road was a wire fence with several dogs behind. All started barking at us but one went beserk. It charged the fence with all the force it had, not once but again and again and all the time barking with full vigour. Now, I like dogs but occasionally a dog can be scary. This was one of those occasions. I am so glad the fence did not break.
We are collecting lots of memorable moments with French cooking. When we stop, we always look for locally owned restaurants and nearly always has the food been outstanding. We arrived at Carcassonne this evening having cycled 76km (47 miles) and 1,052m climbing.

My pictures include the open air market at Mazamet.

TARN VALLEY TO CASTRES

Our Gite at La Caze last night was so comfortable that it was hard to get going, especially as it was snug and warm while outside it was raining and there was a hill to climb. Imagine that you are staying in a converted barn on a farm full of old beams and watching the rain pattering on the windows, it is tempting to stay where you are.
The reality is that we are still in our first week of our latest cycling adventure. There is lots to see so we peddled on. We are in dairy country in the hills overlooking the Tarn valley. Our first encounter is with a farmer then a milk tanker. Chickens cackled in the farm yards. We pass ancient farm houses that make me think of traditional west country farms at home. The architecture is different but the lifestyles are similar.
We have a giant downhill to descend, great! It wibble wobbles its way to a medievil village called Brousse where we stop and admire the place. It is warmer now and off comes one layer but not the waterproofs.
What follows is an easy ride beside the Tarn. Coffee is at a restaurant in L'incot where a dog leaps frenetically around us in welcome. The owner catches him but we hear the dog still trying to welcome us behind a fence. The owner is painting some chairs while as the only customers we scrutinise the work carefully.
Waterproofs are removed as the sun seems desparately to try and find a way past the clouds. We reach Ambialet after 25 miles for lunch where we are greeted by two more dogs. Starter is a quail salad while main is duck. This is plat de jour. We feel that this is luxury cycling. However there is a hill to climb. By local standards it is modest being only 3 miles long. We are now down to tee shirts and perspiring. However at the top, the wind that has kept away so far hits us with full force as we are out in the open. Back go on layers of clothes and we need steely determination for this headwind.
After 15 miles we discover a recently built cycle trail on a former railway. It looks like a Sustrans creation. It is now an easy ride to Castre albeit the weather was giving us all four seasons in two hours with sun, wind, rain, hot and cold.
we cycled 62 miles today and Dagmar, my excellent navigator tells me we are ahead of schedule

BRIDGE OVER THE TARN GORGE

I hope the French are proud of the Viaduc de Millau. It is an outstanding achievement. Not only must the construction have tested the builders to their limits but the design sits within the Tarn Gorge as a monument to the designer's creativity. Dagmar and I cycled under it today and to say we were impressed is an understatement. Here is our view as it first came into sight.

The weather has not lived up to early expectations as apart from the first day, it has varied a lot. This morning was cold and overcast while this afternoon it rained. It did not spoil the enjoyment of the trip. We cycled down the Dourbie to Millau then continued beside the Tarn to La Caze just north of Broquies, a distance of 55 miles. Ochre colour cliffs looked down over the Dourbie and occasionally there were precipitous stacks, isolated high rock features much loved by climbers who relish their vertical faces..

Millau was the largest town we have passed through so far. The centre is exemplified by a fountain surrounded by flowers. The Tarn seemed gentle by comparison to previous countryside but we found some hills where our legs said this was just a myth. All this countryside is of a grand scale and we enjoyed savouring every last moment. Accommodation at this time of year is often closed which surprised me but then there is hardly anybody about. We found a comfortable gite at La Caze where the English hosts made us most welcome. These are a few pictures from today.

MT AIGOUAL

Dagmar and I needed crawler gears to make the climb to Mt Aigoual. The route is said to have some very fine scenery. We left the dense forests of the Gard and everything changed as we climbed. Wild flowers came out in abundance such as cowslips, wild daffodils, early purple orchids and marsh marigolds to name but a few. The trees changed too. The higher we climbed, the earlier were the leaf buds until near the top there were no buds, no trees and some remnants of snow. The time in our crawler gears allowed us to take in all this wildness. In the background I heard 5 cuckoos call and a woodpecker was busy hammering at a tree. The slow ride took 4.5 hours for 28km and 1,350m of altitude.

I must tell you about Badger. Badger belongs to no-one but Dagmar and I share caretaker roles. Badger joined me from Devon Wildlife Trust when I cycled 6,000km around the North Sea Cycle Route in 2010. This is where I met Dagmar. She took pity on me thinking I was lost in Wilhemshaven and had just started the same route. Well, we cycled together to Harwich where my journey ended but Badger jumped bikes to join Dagmar to go round the North Sea Cycle Route a second time. Since then Badger has been to 3 more countries and may have travelled as much as 16,000km. Badger looks grey now but still has plenty of energy for rides whoever he is with. After this trip, he returns to Devon Wildlife Trust to take part with me in their Heart Of Dartmoor Cycle Challenge on 17 May.

Here is Badger on Dagmar's bike with my bike lying in the distance.

THE CEVENNES

It was more like English weather today as Dagmar and I cycled alongside the R. Gardon de St Jean. It rained and then it was windy. This is an unspoilt area and I forgave the weather for an otherwise pleasant journey. It was one of contrasts. On the one hand, the vineyards had gone to be replaced by dark brooding woods that overlooked the valley. One could easily be forgiven for thinking wolves roam here but instead dogs barked from isolated farmsteads. However down by the river, the little fields and banks looked ideal for summer camping where children could swim and run free.
I loved an old steam train at St Jean du Gard and lunch was delicious in a nearby cafe where time seemed  to stand still.

We had intended to take a road  through the Col de St Pierre but the wind was strong and we abandoned it favour of the lower route. Even so, the wind was still strong and we stopped early at St Andre de Valborgne. With a population now just over 400, it used to be thriving a hundred years ago being self contained with once farmed interesting terraces on the hillsides.  We took an evening ride into the hills and found the most interesting scenery of the day.