Pyrenees Tour: Narbonne

For the first time, I've had a hard time getting started on writing this post from the road.

Left Lagrasse this morning, with an easy climb out of town under very welcome blue skies, in soggy, smelly shoes, still wet from the previous  days' rain. The picture of the town from above also shows part of their municipal campground. It's great, and reliable, that so many French towns have campgrounds, and many that I've seen look much like this.











The landscape is drier, flatter ... and much windier, than that I rode through yesterday. I understand that it is pretty generally always windy. That didn't bother me early in the day, on the open roads with little traffic, but it was a pain in the afternoon on the busy roads approaching Narbonne, where I didn't want to be blown around at all ... not by the wind, not by the passing trucks.
  











But before Narbonne, I rode through a lot of grape fields, and a few prosperous-looking towns. I was interested to watch the grape fields being cultivated. One nearby town boasted a cooperative processing plant for wine, with overhead walkways and conduits.







There is something about the patina of so many of the architectural details, gates, walls, windows that is eye-catching to me. They seem to tell their own stories, of history and habitation.











I read in one of Gerry Patterson's postings  that the artists in Oppidum le Vieux removed roofs from their houses to avoid taxes. I wonder if that explains some of the small rural buildings that I see which don't look too run down, but have no roofs.

As I said, it is windy, usually windy, and there are many installations of windmills along the ridgelines. You can see one in the distance in this photo. Sometimes you could see one group of windmills, sometimes you could see many groups.

On the way to Tarascon-sur-Ariege I had seen an installation of solar cells on a very very large (warehouse) sized roof. I don't know what the building was, it probably served an agricultural purpose, but I know the cells were providing electricity.There seems to be more attention paid to alternative energy in France than at home.



Stopped at the famous Abbaye of Fontfroide for several hours. It was beautiful, but more of a mix of styles and more commercial than I anticipated. Access is by scheduled tour, which always offers good points and bad. Lots more information and I was happy to be able to follow the French, but not so much time for lingering and reflecting.


Like so many of these old communities, it was badly decimated by the plague in the mid 14th century. It was at its strongest during the end of the 12th through the 13th century. There are abbayes, or remnants of them, everywhere, at least in southern France. They are interesting to me because they were so central to medieval life. They were essentially how society, towns, communities were organized, and controlled huge areas, in a very broad way sort of like small states unto themselves. There is something about our era that reminds me of that time, but I can't quite put my finger on what.





An American archaeologist, who had previously purchased another French Abbaye and created the Cloisters, in NYC, was going to buy the whole cloister of Fontfroide before WWI,  but instead a French family bought it, and still owns it, making repairs and renovations to it.  






After that, my riding was focused on getting into Narbonne. The road got progressively busier, with large trucks, and I had to decide which of two roads to ride into town. I have no idea which route would be better, but the one I chose was at least shorter, if somewhat hair-raising. I have no idea why big trucks think it is useful to honk when they are passing me. If they're going to honk,they might as well do it before overtaking a cyclist. As if they are so quiet that you might not know they exist. And for the first time today, I walked with Papillon for a bit, not wanting to ride the narrow space allotted over a busy bridge.
  


Now safe, snug and none the worse for it, I'm in the Hotel de France in Narbonne. Tomorrow I ride to the Mediterranean and will spend the day there. The hardest thing will probably be finding the start of the route, although I believe it starts on the Canal de Robine. I could be a good tourist and look at historic sites in Narbonne, but I am finished, full-up, can't absorb anything else, sated and done with museums, cathedrals, chateaus, and Roman ruins for a little bit. Well, at least for a day or so. Time to sit on a beach. And imagine ancient travelers.


I am not sated with cycling, though, and think this harder than usual to write because there is so little time left on the bike, and I already miss it.



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Pyrenees Tour: Lagrasse

Arrived here in Lagrasse, a medieval city with a Roman history before it, at about 3:00, and haven't seen any rain since then. I have a very comfortable room in a lovely chambres d'hote named Les Trois Graces.   

After a quick clean-up, I went out to investigate. The city is located in the Vallee d'Orbieu, and is lively, with what appears to be a sizeable tourist base, and also numerous galleries, crafts shops, a few antique stores and interesting small shops. It is on the list of 100 most beautiful villages in France, and appears to be home to a population of artists who relocated here. Although there is clearly a tourist based economy, it is not overwhelming and the town retains quite a lot of character.

  

Of course, I had to take a few photos for my cat, who is no doubt by now quite miffed with me.







The town is still dominated by the huge Abbaye Sainte Marie de Lagrasse. The abbaye was divided into two parts in 1796, and this division remains today.


As best I understand a part of this abbaye is being lived in and restored by a group of religious chanoines, who are not monks, but mostly priests, who, with academic and scholarly advice, are restoring and reinhabiting it.



The other section is also being restored, and is also a historic site, but today not in active religious use. Altogether, it felt, in a very good way, like being in some sort of archeological site.


The stone is a warm, reddish color, especially where it is cleaned up. You can see the color difference in the photos.
 

I had an extremely good dinner, with an appetizer of dried duck on a mound of mashed potatoes, fresh chevre and leeks, in crispy puff pastry, followed by a delicious  bird of some kind, I didn't understand the words, but since it was today's specialty I ordered it anyway. It was fragrant, along with its rice, of herbs and spices, and ended with a perfectly poached pear in honey.


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Pyrenees Tour: To Lagrasse

Just this morning, though it feels like perhaps three days ago, the weather forecast said there was more chance of rain than not ... 60% chance of rain and also 40% of sun, and silly me, I remembered the 40% part. It was sprinkling when I started, so off I went with  rain pants and jacket on me, front and rear lights on Papillon. These lights are very helpful to have along.


Soon after I left town, signs of last year's TDF appeared on the road, all about Thomas, and I got this photo, had been hoping for one before I return, but hadn't stopped. I didn't realize that the TDF had followed this route. It was a bonus for me, after not having grabbed the photo in the high Pyrenees.




It continued raining, and raining, and raining but not hard, and I continued to remark on the changes in the landscape that yesterday had brought. Cypress trees have appeared, that I remember from Provence, palms have disappeared, there aren't so many flowers and instead vineyards are everywhere.




My route was to take me past St. Hilaire, where sparkling white wine was first discovered. The monks made a delicious wine (by chance) but didn't learn how to bottle and preserve it, and the honors went to champagne. Still, the Limoux area is now famous for this wine, and the abbey itself is said to be extraordinary. I was excited to visit it, and especially looking forwards to it on this wet day.


At the top of a rise I saw the sign, pointing to the left and followed it left, where it descended  sharply, on a small road though not the smallest I'd been on. Within perhaps half a mile the road became quite untravelled, with no signs of traffic and grass growing in the middle of it. I decided it was time to turn back, it felt altogether too private.

Upon returning to the main road, I saw my error, continued straight, and reached St. Hilaire, with its abbey, located right in town.



By now it was pouring, really dropping sheets of rain, and blowing hard. If you look closely, you can get a sense of the rain by the runoff coming out of the drain in the photo. My shoes, gloves, helmet and rain gear were soaked, though I was mostly dry.



The cloister at the Abbey opened onto the road, well, not the road, but directly onto the public access, and I took my bike into the ancient cloister and locked it to a closed door. The staff was fine with that, and took great care to be certain that I understood enough French to comprehend the history and importance of the abbey.


The master of Cabestang created some of the sculpture, and the history of the abbaye is intertwined with that of St. Sernin, an extraordinary cathedral in Toulouse.






I stayed quite a while, soaking up the history and atmosphere of the abbey instead of soaking up the rain outside, getting warm, and re-energizing.






The rain continued, but eventually I zipped back up and started off. It was a great ride, gently uphill for a good distance, long but somehow almost unnoticeable. There was also almost no traffic, perhaps two cars over 10 miles or so.



The visibility was close to nothing, but I grabbed a few photos when the sky lightened. Lunch today was leftovers from lunch yesterday, eaten as I rode: the French version of fig newtons; totally overpackaged and so very convenient baby bel cheese; and chocolate. Keeps me going without slowing me down. Stopping when soaking wet in the rain for lunch inside does not feel like a workable option, either for me or the bistro that would have to deal (or not deal) with me.

I took a picture of the day's first marked col, at 489 meters. A col is a col, after all, and it felt like a sweet little thing, after he high steep cols of the Pyrenees.




More gentle uphill riding and then another col ... and then a long, long, gradual descent. Somehow the descents often feel longer than the climbs. I don't know what that is about. I suppose I had never really  much descended after the first col.




It was fun, a good day, and I enjoyed it, but nothing like doing it on a dry road with some visibility would have been. Soon enough, I came out of the clouds, and the landscape changed again, becoming more like I expected of the Corbieres, rocky, dry, with scattered vegetation.





The sky cleared on the east side of the ridge, and I saw my fist-ever fields of ripe grapes.




Soon after that I arrived at Lagrasse, a medival town near Narbonne.


This was a super ride, I'd like ro repeat it in sunny, or at least clear, weather.


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