Postcards from Provence and beyond

Cycle tours always have their twists and turns, and we’ve found that they never really go to plan. Whether it’s extreme weather, or broken spokes and chains; something always happens to throw a spanner in the works of the most perfectly made plans.

I suppose that’s part of the adventure, whether it’s a short spring cycle trip like this one, or one of our longer rides through France, and Spain. And yesterday threw up this trip’s conundrum.

The day started perfectly, as we packed the panniers, clipped them onto the bikes and rode through the quiet centre of Beziers, en route to the station. It was rush-hour, yet felt like a quiet Sunday morning, with the superb traffic-calming measures that have been put in place there.

We arrived at the station, nearly an hour before our train was due to leave (we are always horribly early for everything), and enjoyed a quiet moment, sitting in the sun, watching the day get going around us.

If I’m honest, we were both anxious about getting the bikes on the train, after last summer’s awful experience in the UK, and know it can be an issue here too. But we needn’t have worried, as the train was quiet, and we managed to stow them easily in the racks, and settled in for the journey back.

So far, so good. The train was on time, and it meant we would be back in Avignon, with ample time for us to cycle home through the valley, to get showered and changed, before heading off to Aix-en-Provence for the evening’s rugby. The whole reason for ending our ride today!

The journey back along the coast is pretty, and as we left Agde, I shifted to stand at the window trying to spot Flamingos, as we passed the Étang de Thau. I’m nearly 60, and really shouldn’t get this excited over things, but I still get a child-like joy from seeing them, often shouting ‘Mingo’, on first sight of one.

You can Watch a little video of today’s ride here, to see how it went!

Arriving in Avignon, we loaded the bikes back up with the panniers, bought some lunch and set off, heading out of the city on our way home.

Cycling out of a city is never fun, but in Avignon, we’ve found a route that follows cycle paths for 3km, and after that we are on little back lanes, between the city and the river that make it feel as if you are in open countryside, yet the huge Cap-Sud shopping centre is a few hundred metres away.

The route wingles its way between the TGV line and the airport, and is pretty-much traffic free and easy pedalling.

Before long, we were heading into Caumont-Sur-Durance, along a brand-new section of cycle path. It was ribbon-smooth tarmac and even the bridge smelt of new wood, and we pedalled along, looking forward to the rest of the ride home.

Then, it all started to go wrong.

The smooth tarmac turned into a badly repaired road, with potholes and patches, making it feel more like a rutted cart track than a road. We bounced our way across, and breathed a sigh of relief, as we hit smoother surfaces again.

It was short-lived relief, as within a kilometre or so, the road took another sharp turn for the worse, becoming much more akin to the cobbles of the Arenberg Trench, in the Paris Roubaix race. And within minutes there was an explosion of air and a gush of sealant from Andy’s rear tyre , where the puncture that he had mended on day 1, collapsed. The plug of magic-putty that had happily sealed it and kept us rolling for over 500km, over the last 10 days, had come free and the tyre had split, just a little bit more.

Aside from uttering a few expletives, there was nothing for it, but to try to fix it again, and nurse it home. We had just over 40km to go. The first fix had survived 10 days, hopefully this one would last just a couple of hours. We had a rugby match to get to.

Within a short time, the tyre was fixed and re-inflated, and we set off again, a little tentatively at first, but everything seemed ok and the road surface was more forgiving.

Then 2km further on, it happened again. Riding on muddy cart tracks would be more forgiving than the sharp, broken tarmac edges of the holes that were unavoidable, even by slaloming along.

A few more expletives, and another fix. We munched our lunch, as we waited to see if the repair would hold, after the tyre was re-inflated. Andy put slightly less pressure in it, and it seemed OK, but by now, time was ticking on and we still had a way to go.

We set off again, taking it slowly, holding our breath over the rough patches, and breathing again when we hit the smooth tarmac stretches. It was stressful, but we passed 2km, then 5km and soon, we were on the Veloroute du Calavon, at Robion.

We were on the home stretch, the sun was shining, the cherries were starting to turn red in the trees, and most importantly, the repair was holding firm. We even started to breathe normally again (or at least I did – I’m always overly positive).

Then, just as we entered Les Beaumettes, there was a loud bang, and the tyre split. The repair had done it’s best, but the tyre had given up the ghost, and this time nothing could be done.

We had an inner-tube, but equally we’re in sight of home, so made the decision that I would pedal home (as fast as my legs could carry me), collect the car and then return to pick up Andy and his bike. Not the way we would have wanted to finish, but at least we would be home, and would just about have time to get to Aix.

So I pedalled on alone, which felt really strange, and the joy of the final ride home was muted, although it was still lovely to be back.

Then, I got a message from Andy to say that our son would come and rescue him and the bike, so I could simply meet him at home. At least that took a little bit of the time pressure off, so I slowed down a little and was able to breathe, starting to enjoy the ride.

The only thing still on my mind was the final ride up the hill to the house, which I never relish on the best of days, but fully laden with panniers is far from enjoyable. But that was really the least of my worries.

Then another message from Andy to say he was home, and would meet me at the bottom of the hill, with the car. As you can imagine, this put a huge smile on my face and the last couple of km slipped past without a care in the world.

He was waiting as promised, and I was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, as I rolled into the lay-by and spotted the car.

Just over 550km pedalled, and a wonderful 11 days of exploring the roads of the South of France. We’ve visited beautiful areas, enjoyed the riding and are already looking forward to our next big adventure that will start in about 5 weeks time.

The only thing that could make the end of the trip better would be a big win for Provence Rugby against Vannes, at the evening match. At least we’d be able to get there in plenty of time now .

They didn’t disappoint. It was the last home match of the season, and a packed ground, for a crucial match against the leaders of Pro2 that we really needed to win.

At half time, when we were losing by 24 points, we began to wish we had still been dealing with punctures. Then the second half proved to be one of the most exhilarating, passionate matches I have been to. Provence played like men possessed, and the atmosphere was noisy and absolutely fully charged. The noise was off the scale, and as we took the lead the stadium erupted. If it had a roof, it would have been blown into the sky.

In the end we won, and secured a place in the Top 4, for the final play-offs, and it had been an incredible end to this little spring adventure.

We cycled to the first away match of the season for Provence, at Angoulême, and then pedalled back from there to watch the first home match too.

You can read the post from our last rugby & cycling trip to Aix here

It was great that the season ended with a bike ride as well.

The next adventure, starting in about 5 weeks will take us on a long trip, through France back to England, and then back home to Provence again, a few weeks later.

Let’s see what the next adventure will throw at us. There’s bound to be something!