Vaucluse Dreamer

We really enjoyed our day off in Mussidan yesterday, and after another good night’s sleep, we were ready to go on again this morning.

I had planned various routes to Duras, which we had decided would be our next stop, on the revised route towards Bordeaux.

We had the ‘If it’s bucketing with rain’ route; the ‘If we fancy going via Bergerac’ route, but decided that we would go with the ‘Slightly longer way to Duras’ route, even if it was wet.

We had vowed not to get going too early, but by 8.30, we’d had our breakfast (porridge thanks to the options left in the apartment by the owners), had loaded the bikes and were twiddling our thumbs, so decided that we may as well get going.

The forecast was for heavy, thundery showers during the day, but at least we had booked a place to stay in tonight, so could wash & dry our kit again and have a long, warm shower too.

We pedalled out of the town under a slab of heavy, grey cloud and the occasional spot of rain, although it was much warmer than we had thought it would be. Within a kilometre of the town, we had turned off the main road, following quiet back lanes up into the forests. It was absolutely silent, but even under grey skies, the bracken glowed a dark, rusty orange under the heavy canopy of trees.

We had learned yesterday that the forests around Mussidan had been used by the Resistance, during WW2, and it was easy to understand why.

As we cycled on, the sun finally made a short appearance, between the clouds and lit the forest floor, waking the birds too, which burst into song around us.

The light was beautiful, as we cycled on through pretty and peaceful hamlets and villages, noticing again how the architecture had changed.

We were still passing houses with the steep Perigordine roofs, but here they had exposed, unusual brickwork too, between their timber frames. These weren’t normal bricks, but were not much deeper than a tile, and had been arranged to create intricate patterns that added a whole new level of decoration to the buildings.

Some were in a herringbone formation, some others looking like books leaning against each other on a shelf. It was as if individual builders had their own style, a bit like the thatchers in England. But it was very lovely to see.

After cycling through the forests, we emerged onto the flat valley floor of the Dordogne river. The trees abruptly giving way to open farmland, and a well-managed agricultural landscape, as we pedalled on towards Gardonne, where we crossed the river too.

I feel that crossing the Dordogne is a key marker on our way down through France, and as I cycled past the sign and across the river, I did it with a big grin on my face.

Then we had to cycle for about 600m along the main road, and my smile quickly disappeared as we were passed by cars and lorries, into the face of oncoming traffic. I used more ‘Anglo-Saxon’ phrases at the top of my voice in that 600m, than I have done in the entire (nigh on 900km) trip so far. But believe me, there was no other option, and I was so happy to be able to turn off, onto the quiet back road that took us on a big loop, along the banks of the river.

It was a lovely ride through, and I quickly calmed down, enjoying the glimpses of the river as we cycled through the fields and crops. We passed apple orchards, hazlenut & walnut groves and even a big plantation filled with Kiwi fruit, as we pedalled towards the pretty little town of Sainte Foy La Grande.

There was an occasional shower, but we sheltered under a tree, waiting for the worst to pass, before continuing on. By the time we pedalled into Sainte Foy, the sky had cleared a bit, so we parked the bikes and sat down for an early sandwich, on a bench by the river.

It was the perfect lunch-spot, watching the river flow past below, and being entertained by a particularly territorial Egret that kept shooing off any other bird that landed on, what he clearly felt was his stretch of the bank.

As we sat, we watched the sky start to darken and kept hoping that it would slip past us, just to the north. But we weren’t going to be that lucky and as the first huge drops of rain started to fall we sprinted to the cover of the arches around the town square. I think we could have given Mark Cavendish a run for his money over the cobbles, as we pedalled back to the spot we had passed earlier.

As we pulled in and parked the bikes, it was as if the clouds just couldn’t be bothered to hold onto the water a moment longer, and the heavens opened with a curtain of rain tumbling into the road in front of us.

It was a huge rainstorm, but at least we were dry and could just watch it, happy that we weren’t out on the open road, where we would have had nowhere to hide.

It wasn’t long-lived and within 30 minutes it had passed and we were able to cycle out, continuing towards Duras, splashing through deep puddles as we left the town.

Ridiculously, about 10 minutes later, we had to stop to take off our coats, as the sun was back out and it had started to warm up again. Truly bizarre weather.

The afternoon ride was hilly, with some steep climbs, as we followed little lanes towards Duras. But it was incredibly beautiful too, and as the views opened out, we started to pedal through the extensive Bordeaux vineyards, passing different Domaines getting ready for this year’s ‘vendage’, which appears almost ready to begin.

The roads were wonderful, and the views were stunning, as we pushed up the hills and swished down them, on what was a bit of a rollercoaster ride through the countryside.

You can watch a little video from today’s ride here

Finally, we arrived in the beautiful little town of Duras, with a final climb, just to make sure we didn’t feel that we’d had an easy day.

We will be staying here tonight and tomorrow, whilst these predicted storms rattle through. The sky was black when we arrived..

And we’ve watched the rain drifting across the view from the window of the house where we’re staying.

We are hoping to have a ‘pannier-free’ ride tomorrow, just around the local area to have a better look at this part of the Lot et Garonne, and I have a feeling that my legs will enjoy the rest.

Then if all goes as we hope it does, we will camp on Wednesday night, near the start of the Roger Lapabie trail, before cycling into Bordeaux on Thursday to catch an early train on Friday morning to get back to Aix, in time for the rugby on Friday night.

We can’t believe that we are already starting to stare the end of this wonderful trip, in the face.