Evesham Wheelers - Other Events - Evesham to Spain and Back

Cotswolds To The Camargue....Well Nearly!

Report by Phil Stayte

Day 1. Evesham to Portsmouth

I left Evesham at 07.30am with that sense of anticipation that accompanies all of my overseas trips. It was drizzling, it was cold and there was a threatening gloom in the air. The journey up into the Cotswolds was made all the worse by the addition of a 25 mph headwind, which had me peddling hard downhill. My usual stop on the downs was cut short by a rainstorm, I quickly refuelled and set off into the glowering gloom that seemed to accompany me all the way to Winchester.

I stopped for my main meal of the day in a bus shelter in Huntisbourne, near to the watercress farms in the Test valley. It was raining.

The weather was improving and by the time I arrived in Portsmouth it was almost balmy! I got into the terminal at 6.10pm tired and soaked to the skin. I had clocked up 130 miles.

On the ferry a hot shower and food were my first priorities, that being done it wasn't long before I headed for bed.

Ready for the off again!

Day 2. St Malo to Craon

I walked my bike up the gangway into heavy rain and a strong swirling wind. It was 7.15 am on a Sunday everywhere was quiet and I hardly saw a car as I made my way out of the town. The weather was appalling I had gone 10 miles and was soaked, and due to the swirling south easterly wind my legs were tired, this was no fun.I was heading south east!

I pressed on ( no choice really). I got to Vitre and the sun came out...for 10 minutes, I took this a sign to stop and eat my soggy baguette and banana.

The strength of the wind was increasing. I made a decision that I would find a hotel when I got to Craon. This turned out to be a wise move, I arrived in Craon at 7pm in the middle of a downpour and thunderstorm.

I found a cheap hotel, over a betting shop, which made for an interesting evening of people watching. No food on Sundays, I was told by the staff but you can have as much coffee as you can drink.

The room was quite basic, except it had a marvellous power shower, and a disproportionately sized TV. As I looked out of the bedroom window through the downpour I could see the Utile Supermarche, and my thoughts went back to 12 months previously when I had stopped there and had 2 rhubarb yoghurts for my breakfast.

I had covered 91 miles.

Day 3. Craon to Thouars

A really good nights sleep, breakfast at 7.30am with a Frenchman and his wife who were going to St Malo, where he had served in the war as a cook. Rescued my bike from round by the wheelie bins where it was chained up, and set off towards Segre, into drizzle. I made good time, along the rolling roads, roads I had cycled along last year.

The further I got the heavier the rain. As I approached the River Loire I saw a rain storm sweep down the valley. I crossed the Loire at Challons, and found a supermarket where I restocked my provisions, more bananas, more energy drinks, bread and a tin of ravioli.

I climbed out of Challons, the sun was out, it suddenly felt as it should, the sense of expectation returned. As I got to the top of the hill....Route Barre. Never mind I thought, I consulted my maps and planned a route around the road closure. I took the opportunity to remove my arm and leg warmers. I set off down uncharted beautiful French country lanes, full of flowers, bird song and lazy cattle.

Very soon my trip was accompanied by a slight ticking noise. This noise grew steadily louder and louder. Thinking something was caught in my wheel I stopped had a look, saw nothing and moved on. Louder and louder, the noise was increasing and a glance at the back wheel showed it was buckled. A spokes gone, I thought. A closer inspection revealed something much more ominous. The rim was split, on both sides near to the spoke hole, it was gaping open, and only the rim tape was stopping the innertube pushing through. I could see that the fracture was starting to move across the top of the rim, in an attempt to join up so that a whole section of the rim would just break away.

In those few seconds I realised the trip was over. This wheel would not get me much further, let alone the 450 miles I would need to cover to get to my destination of Montpellier. I sat on some church steps it was raining again. I decided to eat my tin of cold ravioli. I looked at my map, my destination this day was to be Thouars, and that was 40 miles away. I could see on the map it was a decent sized town with a railway station. Plan.... get to Thouars get the bike on a train to Montpellier, job done! Problem was the bike didn't look like it would last another 4 miles let alone 40. Still no other options, so with trepidation I coaxed the bike slowly all the way to Thouars.

Suddenly the bike which was my greatest asset was now my biggest liability

I arrived in Thouars as it was getting dark, found the only hotel in the town, Hotel de la Gare, right opposite the station, how handy is that! Well not really as the hotel was full. The nice lady said she would phone around other hotels and see if there were any other vacancies.

I went across to the station and asked how much it would be to take my bike on a train to Montpellier. I was not expecting the answer I got, she said you cannot take bikes on the trains that run through Thouars, but this is France, bike friendly, you can take bikes anywhere. Not here you can't!

You need to go to Poitiers and get your bike on the TGV. I looked at the map, Poitiers was about 50 miles away, The bike’s not going to make that I thought. Oh by the way she added, and your bike needs to be in a box!!

Well this ordeal was making the search for the Holy Grail look like a picnic.

I went back to the lady at the hotel, who told me she had found a room at the Hotel Relais, some 5 kilometers out of town on an industrial estate.

Arrived at the hotel, nothing open, no food, had a shower and went to bed thinking of my options, one of them being dump the bike and catch the train.

I had covered 98 miles.

Day 4. Thouars to Poitiers

No option, got to get to Poitiers find this bike box and get the bike on a train to Montpelliers. I may be able to buy a large cardboard box from a sports shop, the sort bikes come in, somehow get across Poitiers with this box and next stop The South Of France.

Went down and had breakfast, asked the manager to get my bike out of the garage, and prepared for the off. It wasn't raining!

Saw a couple of men having breakfast, said "bonjour" and they replied. I heard them start to speak in English. As I was waiting for the manager I introduced myself, asked them what they were doing in this part of France. Well imagine my suprise when Pete, one of the men said they were planning a charity cycle ride for next year and were driving the route. T hey asked me what I was doing, and I explained my situation and my plans for the day. Pete stated he had a caravan at a campsite in a village called Airvault which was about 25 miles away, he went on to say that if I could get my bike there he would bring it back to England when he returned at the end of July. All I would have to do would be pick it up from him at his home in Southampton. Fantastic!!

After thinking over the offer for about a second I decided to take him up on it. He said he would phone ahead and let the British owners of the campsite know I was on my way.

Feeling reinvigorated, I set off to Airvault.

The rim was now so bad I was not trusting it, I was walking down hills, I had disconnected the back break to improve clearance, and to top it all the wheel was so buckled it was rubbing on the frame.

I arrived at Camping Le Courte Vallee, at midday. As I pushed the bike on to the site a cheery voice rang out, "Hello you must be Phil". It was Jo the owner of the site who said come on we have some lunch for you. Over a lunch of cold meat salad and a glass of white wine I told her and her partner Alistair the story so far.

They put my bike in a safe shed and I hung around the site planning how to get to Poitiers. At 2pm Jo approached me and said "Are you ready?" We are off to Poitiers to take Arthur our handyman for a hospital appointment, we go past the station, you can have a lift, didn't Pete tell you? Well how lucky was that!

I was dropped off at the station, enquired when the next train left for Montpellier, 11.19am tomorrow.

Booked into the hotel opposite the station, and settled down for a better nights sleep. Suddenly the world looked a better place.

I had covered 26 miles.

Day 5 Poitiers to Montpellier

Raining again! went to the station at 10am and waited for the train, it arrived and departed spot on time. The trip to Bordeaux was boring and uneventful, it was grey and overcast. Had a picnic on the end of a platform at Bordeaux station, in the rain.

South of Bordeaux, the weather and the countryside improved, past through Agen, Carcassone and Beziers, seemed great cycling country. Skirted along the Canal du Midi.

Arrived in Montpellier at 6.45pm too late to start looking for a campsite, so another night in a cheap hotel beckoned. And boy was it cheap, tiny room, told not to open the window by the owner. When I opened the window found it was blocked by piled up furniture in a sort of courtyard filled with pigeon dung.

Went out to explore Montpellier. Found the main square, there appeared to be some sort of anti Sarkozy rally going on, mainly students accompanied by a group of wino's the sort you get in every city. There were a couple of dozen French police smoking and leaning on their vans paying little attention to to the increasingly vocal group. Well until one of the well lubricated hangers on at the rally decided to throw an empty Stella Artois bottle towards the dozing Police Officers. The officers disappeared behind their respective vans and reamerged as CRS ( French Riot Police) I was watching from a point 20 feet away from the crowd, by this time munching on a fromage baguette. Well imagine my suprise when the Police, batons in hands began to charge in my direction. Not to put too fine a point on it I legged it. The man who threw the bottle wasn't quite so quick, he was helped to the ground with the assistance of 2 CRS with batons. I along with 20 or 30 others ran through some side streets. Five minutes later I returned to the square its tranquility restored, except for the paramedic treating the barely conscious man lying against the railings.

Went back to the hotel, and monitored the strange comings and goings that kept me awake most of the night.

Day 6 Montpellier

Up early, found the market and had breakfast there lovely morning sun shining and...it was hot!

Found the tourist office, though about getting a campsite for the rest of my stay. Great it opens at 9. At 10.15 it eventually opened, a helpful man pointed out the campsites and the fact that they were near the coast some 12 kilometres away. First catch tram 2 to St Cleophas, then bus 32 to Pavalas.

I caught tram number 2 then waited 2 hours, no bus 32.Also noted that on Sunday the day I was to catch the bike express back the buses didn't run. So if I got there I couldn't get back!

So back to Montpellier another hotel, this time the hotel Majestic. Cheap cheerful and a room which was fully en suite.

Explored Montpellier which had a music festival in full swing.

Day 7 Montpellier

Up early, market again for breakfast. Weather superb, decided to take the train to Sete a town about 20 k away. Had dozen oysters and a glass of wine in the market at Sete for 6 euros, bargain. Sat on the beach sunning myself. Then returned to Montpellier saw Flamingoes in a lake near Sete, not pink though, a bit grubby white, still they were Flamingoes!

Spent the night watching a free concert in the park.

Day 8 Montpellier

Breakfast again at the Market. Then Botanical Gardens sight seeing and a Picnic. A glorious day to lounge around, which I did a lot of.

Day 9 Montpellier on the Bike Express

One last tour around Montpellier and then with my panniers, tent and all worldly possessions, I caught the tram to the bus pick up point at St Jean De Vedas. Getting to the pick up point involved a 3 k walk in blazing sunshine to a anonymous trading estate by the side of the motorway. Got some shelter in Mc Donalds, and awaited the bus. It was 1/2 hour late, not too bad. Also joined by 3 cyclists from North Yorkshire who had cycled through France for 3 weeks and told me they had only had 4 dry days!

The bike express was comfortable, and the staff very helpful. We had been on the bus for about an hour when the motorway came to a stand still. We picked up other cyclists along the way at their various points. Because of the horrendous traffic we arrived at the ferry at Calais 61/2 hours late. This was due to the Ascention Day Bank Holliday in France, one of only 3 Bank holidays they have in May.

Day 10 Home

Arrived back at Northampton at around 5.30pm ( it should have been 12.30!) John James and Carol had arranged to pick me up, and true to their word I was greeted by John, and transported safely home.

It was a trip full of surprises and in its own way was a success. it would not have been a success without the help, assistance and genuine friendship of fellow cyclists, Pete Wickham, Jo and Alistair ,John and Carol, to all I owe a debt of gratitude.