Off to France
I took the train from London Bridge to Dover Priory. It splits somewhere. I know that but always think I am on the wrong part of the train. As always I was on the correct bit, but still found it stressful.
Less stress was no having to stop in Dover. I sometimes think if Hitler made it there he would have turned back. The ferry to France is great value – 25 GBP and they give you a food voucher of GBP 10. This could be valued between GBP 0.5 and 9.00, either way the cost to cross the channel and be fed is not bad.
Last year I when was in Calais, I camped in a place about 10 klms out of town – not on my return list. I checked into the ‘Pacific Hotel’. Not sure what prompted the owner to call it that. It was Ok and a bar nearby was good. Calais is probably not a place to go to for a week, but a night can be ok.
TGV to Paris
My next task was to navigate the complexity of the SNCF on-line booking system and the fact that I had my bike. The internet site defeated me. It would have been a better defence than the Maginot Line in WW2. I gave up and went to the Gare to do it manually with a SNCF staff member who is actually there (take note companies such as Telstra). They could only get me to Paris. I was on the train to and intermediate stop and then a TGV to Paris. I love Paris, but I hadn’t planned to stop there this time. There were no onward slots for the bike so I had to stay over. The weather was good (unlike last year) so ok. I let the Garmin take me to the nearest camping ground. Needless to say using Mr Garmin is not a smart move. Three hours later with help of some very helpful Parisians, I found the camping ground. All was good.
I decided to eat there. Basic food, but only as the French can do it, very good.
Onto Toulouse
I the morning, I headed back into the city. Check the route. I know that Paris is known for its inner city parks, but the size of some these is something of which I was not aware. Past that communications tower yet again and back to Paris Montparnasse. I caught to 12.26 p.m. TGV south to Toulouse. I wonder why 12.26 and not 12.30 or even 2.25 p.m.?
I travelled on the first TGV that went on from Lyon to Paris in 1978. I was impressed then – 35 years on I am still impressed. What a great case of forward thinking the establishment of that network was. A great trip, with bike (velo) in its special place, racing across the countryside at 200 klms plus. This is so civilized.
It is a fair ride to a camping ground in the outskirts of Toulouse. It proved to be a reasonable place. The on-site restaurant served basic, but good food. The waitress was very friendly.
I decided to spend the day in Toulouse. The old part of the city is very attractive. I rode around the streets fairly early in the day. It was strangely deserted. In a small square, I found a café. As I sat reading my guide book, the place slowly filled up. I decided to follow a motorised train that takes tourists around the sights. I could not understand any of the commentary, but I was able to get a better feel for the place. Lunch was a very generous baguette which I bought from a ‘hole in the wall’ shop in small lane.
I returned to the café where I had been in the morning. This time I ordered a beer. The waitress who was not there is the morning picked me as being Australian. She told me that she had worked there for a year and “loved the place”. She would make some comments and ask a question, then rush off and serve someone, only to return again. I found myself having 3 beers. That turned out to be s a EUR 18 session – not cheap the way the AUD is falling.
When I returned to the camp site, a family of five rode up on their bikes. There were very well equipped with Vaude panniers and BOB Trailer. I had a brief chat with them. They were Dutch and had ridden on the Canal Lateral from Bordeaux. They were now heading down the Canal du Midi to Sete. Clearly, the parents were serious cyclists. Judging by the rolling eyes of the daughters, the children were less keen. The father was very interested in my LEJOG ride and the fact that I had been to the Shetlands. He told me that he and his wife were planning to ride in Iceland, but not with the children. The oldest daughter said something in Dutch. I suspect it was something along the lines of, “thank god”.
On the Canal
The next day I started on the canal. You join it at the main Railway Station. Surprising there are no signs at the point. The first stage is through the suburbs of Toulouse. However, it is not long before you are out of the city. I had seen pictures of the canal in my guide book and the internet, so I knew what to expect. A feature of the canal is the Plane tress on either side of the banks. I was surprised, however, by the size of the trees and the width of the canal. The trees provide very good shade, which is a relief is given is quite hot this time of the year.
I stopped at funny little place for lunch. It was a farmhouse on a path next to the canal. The owner could speak a little English and offered a range of food, including sandwiches. I thought I ordered a ham, cheese and tomatoes sandwich. I was somewhat surprised when chicken omelet arrived.
Cheap Night Next to a Wheat Field
I rode onto Castelnaudary and found the Municipal Camping Ground about 2 klms out of town. These are great value. This one cost EUR 9.95 – why not EUR 10 is anyone’s’ guess. The people that determine the departure times of the SNCF trains must also set the prices for the municipal camping grounds. I walked into town for a beer and a meal. There is not much choice when it comes to beer – lagers only. But they are served very cold which just what you need in this heat.
Next morning I rode into the town. I found a café-bar that was open and asked for a coffee and croissant. The waitress spoke with an American accent. She told me that they didn’t serve food, but I could buy food in the shop up the street and bring back to eat in the café. She also said I could use the internet. It turned out that she was Dutch and had been living France for 8 years. Like so many Netherlanders she is fluent in all the major European languages. It makes you feel so deficient being a mono-lingual Australian.
Disneyland Castle City
I finally go back on the canal and headed towards Carcassonne. I stopped for lunch at a restaurant by the canal. There was an ‘older couple’ sitting nearly. We got chatting. They turned out to be Australians that lived in France for half the year and in Australia for the other half. He was semi-retired academic and she a ‘consultant’. The bloke’s field was ‘public policy’. He had some interesting comments to make about the UNSW Public Policy unit which Dr Peter Shergold chairs.
Late in the afternoon I arrived in Carcassonne. I pitched my tent and headed into the walled Cite. The place has a bit of a Disneyland feel to it. There are lots of bar/restaurants and creperies. There are also any number of tacky souvenir shops.
The next dayI took an excursion around Carcassonne and the nearby countryside. The route brought back on a part of the canal over which I had already travelled That was not the best move.
Great views
Next day I headed off towards Homps. I decided to take a detour of the canal staying a small town Cessaras. I left the canal and headed in the countryside to a small village called Cesseras. It is little high than the canal, but provides great views across the valley to the Pyrenees.
The next day I headed down to Homps to pick up the Canal. Canals are great, but can be very much the same. Water, track, trees, le Boats etc.
More Canals and the Future of a Divided UK
I decided to take a road to Narbonne. As my guide books says, “it is a gem”. The Garmin was not too good at finding the camp site. Nothing changes.
Finally found, the camp site was quite good. I was given a very large pitch for a very small tent. The ground was rock hard. An English family in the adjacent pitch lent me their mallet. Unfortunately all that did was to bend the tent pegs. Not to worry, the tent can stand without the support of the pegs. The parents of the family turned out to be teachers in town just north of Portsmouth. They had a lot interesting things to say about the state of education in England and the ‘north/south divide’ and the impact that may have on social unity. The father’s family comes from Middlesborough in the northeast. He told about a visit he made there to watch a football match. He said he walk past a house that was open for inspection with an asking price of GBP 30K. It was a reasonable house and would fetch 10 times that amount if was in the area they lived. This a palpable example of a country with at least two distinct economies.
In the morning I headed into Narbonne. It is quite a nice town.
I then head back towards the Canal du Midi along the Canal Robine I had an excellent lunch in a small restaurant on the side of the canal. The owner was English and suggest a Corsican beer. It was very cold and very tasty.
Again riding the canal is great, but some of the sections are really rough and not too much fun on a fully laden bike. I noticed that most of the riders on these parts were riding mountain bikes with no luggage.
No Bridget Bardots – young or old on this part of the French Coast
Before Beziers I decide to head to the coast to Narbonne Plage. The guide book had described this area as being very popular for summer holidays. It is true that it is popular, however, it is not the preferred destination of the rich, famous and beautiful. Let’s say it makes Rosebud on the Mornington Peninsular look sophisticated. This excursion was not a great move. The camping ground was huge, but saying it was drab would be paying it a complement. I had a pizza in a place in the main part of town. It was surprisingly ok. After the meal I walked back to the camping ground via a ‘side show ally’ style entertainment park. Like the Easter Show in Sydney, these places are the same the world over.
An early start saw me head back to the canal for the least stage to Marseillan. Again, a lot of this section was tough riding. It was well worth it though. The canal enters the sea just east of the town. Surprisingly there is no signage to mark the end (or start if you are going in the other direction) of the canal.
The next stop is Sete. This can be reached by the ‘lido’ or beach route, or by the inland route. I decided to take the inland route, as I planned to ride the beach back to Marseillan Plage in two days.
I stopped off in Balarus les Bains This is a nice little town. The camping round was small but a happening little place. I found myself drinking a chill bottle of red for EUR 2.5 at the suggestion of the staff member operating the bar. It tasted better than Ok. There is nothing wrong with chilled red in France when it hot. Interesting conversations with an eclectic bunch of travellers – Dutch, English and French (not happy the conversation was in English) ensured.
Be careful who to trust giving directions
Next day I headed into Sete. The town is visible form virtually anywhere in the region, in that it is situated on and below a large hill. The route from Balarus les Bains was initially on a cycle path. This came to an abrupt end. As usual, the Garmin had no idea.
At this point the Sete hill was not visible, but I was certain as to the general direction of the place. A couple turned up on bicycles. I asked them if I was heading right way to Sete. They both spoke reasonable English and had a map. They told me that they were only visiting the area. The bloke looked at the map and concluded that Sete was in the complete opposite direction to which I was headed. He also told me, and his wife nodded in agreement, that “it was not possible to ride to Sete, as the only to the city was very busy”. I told them that I found that hard to believe, given I was seeing lots of cyclists around and some of them at least, must travel to and from Sete.
Having had enough, I rode off in the general direction of Sete. I soon came upon the promised ‘busy road’. Surprise, surprise, next to the road is a bike path and leads directly into Sete.
It is known as the Venice of France. A good description of the place.
The next task was to secure a way back to England with the bike. I have tried to use the SNCF web site to book trips for myself and the bike before. On the basis of that experience I went to the station to book a ticket. The SNCF staff member was delightful and diligent – 45 mins later I had my ticket for myself and the bike to Paris via Bordeaux. Bikes are not permitted on the TGV from Montpelier to Paris anymore???
Still looking for Bridget
After securing my ticket back to Paris, I decided to head out of Sete on the beach route (mainly cycle path) to Marseillan Plage. This is allegedly a sophisticated beach spot.
The camping ground was good, but very crowded. Albeit the clientele were more sophisticated than Narbonne Plage, the improvement was marginal.
The next day I rode into Mareillan looking in vein for a sign marking the start of the canal. I could not find it. None seemed to know of one or even care if there was one.
Night in Sete
I rode back to Sete and checked into a cheap but cheerful hotel near the railway station. I ventured into the city centre by the Grande Canal. There was some sort of event on in the canal. Two large boats head towards each rowed by about a dozen blokes. High about the deck another bloke was hold a large jousting pole and was trying to knock the equivalent bloke on the other boat into the water. There was a large crowd watching the proceedings. They all seemed very interested. I prefer cricket.
On the Train to Bordeaux and on to Paris
Confused SNCF Web Site Users
I got to the station early. There were a group of cyclists at the station in deep and serious discussion. It turned out that they were from Belgium and although they had tickets to Toulouse, that they had bought of the SNCF web site weeks ago, they were not able to board the same train as me, as they had not reserved bike slots. They thought they had done so, but this tuned out not to be the case. I know how they felt. The SNCF booking site has me buggered, when it comes to booking places for a bike. My strategy of using human seems to be the way to go.
Slow old Train to Bordeaux
The train is an Intercity train. I suspect the rolling stock dates back to the sixties. I recall that most of the trains were like this one when I travelled through France in the late seventies and early eighties. Most of the long distance routes are now serviced by the TGV.
I had a short lay over in Bordeaux, before catching the TGV to Paris
Staying in Paris near Gare du Nord
I stayed in the St Christopher’s Hostel near Gare du Nord. It is quite a good hostel, seemingly staffed primarily by Australians. I checked in a had a shower in the en suite to the room – luxury.
I ventured out of the hostel into the streets around the station. Unfortunately this is not the best part of Paris, particularly late of night.
My train north was not leaving until 16.46 p.m. – another interest departure time. As I was walking through the entrance area of the hostel a young girl asked me if I was waiting for the ‘walking tour’ . I told her that I had not heard of the tour, but asked her about it. As we chatted a bloke with a big red umbrella appear yelling “walking tour patrons!!!”. I decided to join the tour. Two other people joined us of the short train trip to St Michel where to tour proper started.
Over 100 people gather in a small square and were divided into groups according to language. My group consisted on mainly Australians, Canadians and Americans. Our new guide was an American from LA called Arnaut. He claimed that he moved to Paris 4 years ago of the basis that his parents (who had never left the USA) had given him a French name.
The walking tour took us past the Notre Dame and along the Seine. We went to courtyard of the Louvre. Guide was amusing. There a lot of pressure to provide a tip. I happily gave the bloke EUR 10. However, my tip is not to pretend it is free tour.
In Calais Again
The TGV got me into Calais about 6 p.m. I checked into the same hotel a last time. Not a bad place. In the morning I boarded the ferry back to England. There is no doubt seeing the White Cliffs Dover is up there as far as entry points into a country.
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