12| Col du Barrière

From the top I headed north, crossing the Causse de Blandas, a section of flat, fast riding. I had expected a climb up to another col today, but imagined it later in the day, not this early and not on this road. But I was gradually and steadily climbing … and reached the Col de Campviel at 754m, which I hadn’t counted on in today’s ride, and which was an easy climb. After that, the ride down towards the Arre River was beautiful, with great site line and safe grades. The forest had become lush and green, probably oaks and chestnuts.  I rode slowly down, a pattern that I kept to throughout the trip. It took me a lot of work, energy and climbing to get up these hills and I intended to savor every moment of the descent, rubbernecking as I went and enjoying the world around me. The mountains here are jumbly, sometimes steep and rugged, but not terribly high. Though I can’t see it,  Mont Aigoual, still to the north of me, is the highest in the Cévennes, at 1567 meters.  I was beginning to get a sense of the isolation of much of this area in France, which was depopulated after the Revolution, and again after each of the World Wars. 

I reached the D999, and turned west, climbed up and headed towards my first tunnel. It was not long at all, and though dark it was lit; but I put on my headlights (helmet and bike) and my blinking tail light, and rode through without incident. Just past the tunnel in Alzon I stopped at an épicerie;  bought ham,  yogurt,  strawberries and bread, and ate lunch on a nearby bench. Yogurt in France comes in 4-packs, and so any day I ate yogurt I ate a lot of yogurt.

The day's second col, the Col du Barrière (804m), is higher, and a longer climb, than this morning's, or yesterday's, though perhaps not so steep as the climb to Col du Vent; it is worth only a single chevron on my Michelin map. This time of year there were very few cars anywhere, even on this more major road. I followed the lazy switchbacks up, enjoying the glorious views, but I started the climb later in the day and it was hot. I appreciated the shade, crossing back  from side to side to take advantage of it. Riding up these long hills, I watched small green butterflies flitting along, much as I sometimes went from side to side, following the shade, and I named my new, green bicyclette "papillon,"French for butterfly. So long as I continued to push the pedals around, my bike continued to take me wherever I wanted to go – however slowly. This climbing thing could become addictive – the landscape gorgeous, and I remembered the excitement of the views and mountain passes from my backpacking days long ago. At the top there was again an information board for hikers, showing hiking routes through the area. 

Next

9| Causse du Larzac

I rode north on the D9 through Arboras, after which the road steepened as it climbed toward the Col du Vent, which at 703 meters was not the highest, nor the longest col  (pass) I would climb, but was certainly a long climb, and somewhat steep, worth two chevrons on the map. Several downhill cyclists (the other cyclists I see are of course almost always going downhill) acknowledging my loaded bike, offered shouts of encouragement, telling me that I was almost there. I thought: I will master the art of the frequent short stop for legs and lungs to catch up. There were gorgeous views back to the countryside behind me, with small dirt roads, (were they once known as muletiers, as in my Pagnol novels?), winding up the surrounding hills.

After the col  I crossed the Causse du Larzac, a  garrigue, dry, spare, covered with blooming flowers and low bushes. These causses (slightly rolling, high, dry plateaus) are made of limestone, easily eroded and full of caves, along with the canyons which will be the centerpiece of my bike trip. They also contain prehistoric dolmens and menhirs, though I don’t see any. I wondered  if these ancient stone structures were built by the Celtic tribes who had lived in the area and later migrated to England and built Stonehenge, but I learned nothing about them. They are reputedly hard to find, and I hated missing them, but my schedule was too tight, and I suppose my confidence level too low, to search them out. It will be another trip. 

This part of France has long, cold winters and dry summers, and this year, a late spring. Rosemary, yarrow, broom, pinks, thyme and sedges are blooming everywhere. Many of these plants, like bouncing bet, I know as “weeds” at home … plants that came to the US with European  settlers, and often drive out native species, but here they are the native species. Though having said that, perhaps these same plants migrated here from elsewhere, and it is simply a matter of time and perspective. Later I also saw wild snapdragons blooming, and a variety of lisianthus, a prized flower in the farmers markets near my home. I breezed by one campsite, on the D25, not ready to stop, believing I would  find something in Saint Maurice-Navacelles.  I didn’t, but I did  meet a couple from la Couvertoirade, a town I was hoping to visit, who are members of “Warm Showers,” an internet organization of individuals offering free lodging for cyclists. They urged me to knock on their friend’s door in Navacelles (at the bottom of the cirque) and assured me that he would let me camp in his backyard. On the road towards Cirque de Navacelles the lizards are large, and green and fast, or, alternatively,  large, stone-brown, and fast. I passed a diverse group of 30 or more hikers, without packs, strung out along the road, and wondered what their story was, but didn’t stop to talk . With better language skills, I might have been more apt to do so.

Next