Didn't report on this yesterday. Just too tired. We intended to ride about 65 miles. We were facing two Classification 3 climbs in the first 40 miles, and I guess we were feeling pretty frisky. We had them out of the way in time for Gwen arriving for lunch. After lunch we set out for what we thought would end at about 65 miles, but, after climbing a steady 17 miles at a 5%-7% grade- with no downhill or even close to level ground on a Class 2 climbs we were feeling pretty beat. The rains had arrived, we were both wet, Roy, coming from someplace other than the NW, did not have a rainjacket with him, and got pretty wet. Fortunately, the rains stopped, we thought we were headed downhill and towards our finish, but the rolling hills just kept going and going, and the next thing you know, we were up to 80 miles and the end nowhere in site. At this point it was getting near 6pm, and Gwen, our Saviour, appeared at the bottom of the next hill, with neither of us wanting to climb out of that hole. We rode towards Mende in the car, marvelling at how much additional territory we would have to cover.
The day started out beautifully, lots of cherry orchards, and fruit stands sprinkling the sides of the highway. The hills were covered with fields of wheat, corn, cherries. We were in very rich farming country. The towns we passed through were healthy and vibrant, with squares exhibiting the normal activity of commerce. This was rich country. As the day went on and we climbed higher and higher, we reached into the high forests with only an occasional hut or cow pasture. The cows, in this region, for whatever reason, refused to wear cow bells. Apparently, they knew where they were, and didn't really want to advertise the fact to anybody else. As we continued to climb, we did pass one small village at the top which commemorated the origin of the Loire River. This small town had a party atmosphere with vendors along the street selling meats, cheeses, breads, in outdoor kiosks, rather than in stores. If it weren't for the small goof in routing (Sorry, Roy), our relationship with this community would have been short lived, but we took the wrong uphill road out of town, and only discovered the mistake several miles down the road. We had no choice but to return to the town and find the right road out.
The day started out beautifully, lots of cherry orchards, and fruit stands sprinkling the sides of the highway. The hills were covered with fields of wheat, corn, cherries. We were in very rich farming country. The towns we passed through were healthy and vibrant, with squares exhibiting the normal activity of commerce. This was rich country. As the day went on and we climbed higher and higher, we reached into the high forests with only an occasional hut or cow pasture. The cows, in this region, for whatever reason, refused to wear cow bells. Apparently, they knew where they were, and didn't really want to advertise the fact to anybody else. As we continued to climb, we did pass one small village at the top which commemorated the origin of the Loire River. This small town had a party atmosphere with vendors along the street selling meats, cheeses, breads, in outdoor kiosks, rather than in stores. If it weren't for the small goof in routing (Sorry, Roy), our relationship with this community would have been short lived, but we took the wrong uphill road out of town, and only discovered the mistake several miles down the road. We had no choice but to return to the town and find the right road out.
No comments:
Post a Comment