Travels with Hobbes - The Velodyssey

[HobbesOnTour]

It is particularly fun having the random photos not at all to do with the trip!

Funny you say that just as I move into the stage where I have lots of photos!
I might just throw in the oddball every now and then just for you 😉

However, on a slightly more serious note..... Another idea I had was a thread where we post one photo (tour related) and write the story of the photo and what it means to us.

Want to start the ball rolling? Anyone else?

 

[tom73]

what ever the pictures are the right ones or the wrong ones.
still enjoying the right up

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Morlaix to Nantes ctd….

Encounters with the Wildlife!

Long distances bike tourers in far flung foreign lands often have to risk facing down predatory and lethal local wildlife - it's par for the course!! So too in France!

While cycling along a canal on a gravelly, narrow path of yellow stone and sand I was suddenly set upon by two wild animals operating as a duo and nearly ended my adventure prematurely!

One moment my head was full of the beautiful scenery around me - still water perfectly reflecting the elegant and refined trees along the opposite bank, rich green grass contrasting beautifully against the light gold of my path, my ears relaxing in the sound of my tyres cutting through the gravel and birds singing out their warnings of an intruder on a bike.

The next I was fighting for my very existence!

A butterfly swooped up under my glasses and entered my left eye, flapping its wings in a ferocious attack (of course, it may just have been panicked and wanted to flee). It was a shock to my system but our hero instinctively closed his eyes and gained the advantage. This advantage was short lived, however, as the attempted assassin's accomplice crashed between the arm and lens on the right side of my face, putting up a brave battle of wing flapping that must have caused many, many hurricanes in other parts of the world!

I now had both eyes closed, travelling on a loaded bike on a narrow path beside a canal - I'm sure you can appreciate the peril.

A quick adjustment of the glasses and my left eye was free, but very watery. However, that caused the right wing assassin to redouble his efforts. Totally disorientated by all the flapping at my eye I finally jammed on the brakes, removed the glasses and the would be assasin fled, leaving me about 20cm from the water's edge pointing, Evil Kenievel-like at a fool's jump!

I had never wild camped up to that point and was eager to give it a try. These empty canals had lots and lots of places that I thought suitable and with no-one around I had determined to set up camp in one of these secluded beauty spots. At one stage I came to a beautiful, still spot, along the canal with nothing but wild flowers and trees for company. I'd need to flatten out a place for my tent but it would be worth it. I had visions of being woken by the dawn chorus and peeking out of my tent to a view of wild flowers and still water. I was standing, straddling Rocco admiring this wonderful view, thinking how lucky I was to be there when I realised I wasn't as alone as I thought. A rustle in the tall grass at my feet had startled me, but I quickly put that down to a field mouse or other such cute creature. I'd have a little buddy for my night's adventure! But my little buddy wasn't alone there seemed to be a few moving in a line beside my foot.

I can still vividly recall looking down, searching for my family of field mice, a welcoming, friendly smile on my face when I saw the snake slithering not 30cm from my right foot!

I don't know if I screamed like a little girl or bellowed like a mighty bear. I've no idea how I got the bike turned around considering I was intent on keeping both feet tucked up under my armpits. I don't really know much except that seconds later I was racing over the overgrown path and my urge to wild camp disappeared, snakelike, into a cold, French canal where it stayed in a state of hibernation for a while.

I hate snakes!!

 

[avecReynolds531]

Thanks very much - really interesting travel & photos.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Morlaix to Nantes ctd….

Not France..... Back in NL​

Touring in a nutshell.

Not all stories from the road are positive. Sometimes there are negative stories and I suppose it's in our nature to either focus on the negatives or consign them to the "experiences" folder of our brain where they can slowly accumulate dust and be forgotten. But I've found that no matter how negative the experience, there's always a positive just down the road to balance it out if we're in the frame of mind to be receptive to it. This next tale is such a one.

Outside Rotterdam.....​

I don't remember the town, or small city, but it was sunny, warm and quite busy. I was cycling through, looking for a place to grab a bite to eat but became aware of two young guys who separated themselves from a group hanging around a bench. They followed me on the wide cycle path and slowed when I slowed, sped up when I sped up and refused point blank to overtake me. Conscious that I was leaving the security of busy streets and lots of people I decided to take action and jammed on my brakes! They stopped too, but one was close enough that I could shout in his face - only I didn't. I figured speaking English wouldn't help and my French was not good enough to tell him to feck off in any kind of a convincing manner so I fell back on an old trick and growled loudly like a savage dog. It worked! I could see the confusion on his face turn to fear and the next moment himself and his buddy were belting back from whence they came!

I was still very unsettled heading off again and this just increased as I turned off the main strip and onto a side street.I passed a little store advertising hot food and though hungry, I thought it better to hotfoot out of town. A couple of hundred meters on my belly growled in defiance so I turned around and rolled back, scanning the street for any sign of being followed.

The store was a mishmash of little grocery store selling garden hardware with a little deli counter. I ordered a baguette with hot chicken only to be told that there was no hot food, only what I could see behind the counter. I settled on ham and cheese and as it was prepared got to talking to the two guys working there.

I was obviously on a bike - bike helmet - but when I explained where my destination was - Santiago - the whole mood in that tiny shop changed. All of a sudden my sandwich became much, much more full, a Coke was thrust into my hands, my hands were shook and my back clapped. When I asked about cigarettes I was told they didn't sell them, but one of them opened his own pack and took three out (leaving himself with one) and insisted on me taking them. I'd also picked out a few snacks and when time came to pay they only accepted money for my sandwich. I was a Pilgrim, and as Muslims they understood and respected that. In fact, it was their duty to help in any way they could.

I cycled out of that town and pulled up under a tree to eat my lunch digesting the rollercoaster that travelling on a bike can be.

Along the Dutch Rhine....​

Still on Pilgrimage

On the Pilgrimage theme, at one stage I passed a sign for a Trappist Monastery that was about 15 km away from where I was. Continuing on, my mind wandered and I started thinking that it would be a nice thing to have more Trappist stamps in my passport. So I turned around, joined the road and cycled, mainly uphill towards the Monastery. I eventually rolled up and went off searching for someone to give me a stamp. There was a kind of shop and an old monk behind the counter. In my best French I tried to explain what I was looking for but he looked at me as if I was speaking a strange, foreign language, which,in all fairness I was. I showed him the Passport. No joy. Just then, a younger monk came out and I tried to explain again what I was looking for. I was really beginning to regret the uphill detour until he grasped what I was on about. His eyes almost exploded with excitement and his arms started waving in what could only be described as a joyous arm wagging welcome!

You see, these Trappists take a vow of silence - they cannot speak!

La Trappe, Tilburg, NL​

(Funny story - in the Trappist Monastery & brewery in Tilburg there is a phone in an area of the brewery and a smartass on a tour thought he had caught the “silent” monks out - until he saw it in action. The phone is used by the suppliers who call the Monastery, and orders are made by the supplier calling out the product and the monk tapping the handset off the wall, the number of taps corresponding to the quantity!)

There's a beer garden at the Monastery - well worth a visit ​

This young chap was very excited, trying to explain with sign language to his older colleague what I was doing. He looked at my passport and could see where I started. In the strangest game of Charades I’ve ever played he asked me when I had started, how long it would take, where was my bike and so on. In the end I got my stamp and headed off, rejuvenated and recharged by what I was doing and the effect it was having on some people.

Full size replica of Noah's Ark, NL. This thing captivates me! ​

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Nantes to Bayonne

Yeah, this is kind of a long stretch to include in one section, but although the route changes dramatically from rural countryside to seacoast it also merges into one blur, albeit a very pleasant blur.

The big campsite in Nantes was amazing! The biggest, most sophisticated campsite I had been in until then.

I love the sea, so any day cycling along the coast is a good day in my world. Throw in the fine weather, the excellent paths even the headwind couldn’t get me down. In fact, it kept me relatively cool in the hot sun.

Small details that stick in my head include my introduction to squat toilets in some of the campgrounds. Truth be told the first one I encountered I mistook for a shower! It was only when I failed to locate a shower head that the truth slowly dawned on me.😊

Another pleasant surprise was the quality and quantity of the Municipal Campgrounds. They just seemed to get better and better and filled with interesting people. I specifically recall watching a woman wheel a big, big suitcase along past me. She found her spot, withdrew a tent from her suitcase, set it up, returned to her case for a double blow up mattress which filled her tent. Then she withdrew a second tent, a comfy camp chair and some books. She didn't seem to have a car and had probably arrived by bus. Two tents and she had a bedroom and a sitting room - I liked her style!

I recall, too, in a town nearly being knocked off by an unobservant driver. Filled with rage I roared & gesticulated wildly at him. I had calmed down a little by the time he caught up with me again in the traffic but his horn beeping at me just set me off again. As it turned out, the poor chap was trying to apologise, only I couldn't see it for a while through the red mist. When I finally calmed down we shook hands through his passenger window and I set off with a few things to think about.

One night I was most amused after I had set up my tent to see ants crawling around on my fly. Closer investigation revealed one of the guylines positively swarming with the little buggers! I had staked it out directly into an anthill! We live and learn!

My takeaway things from that leg are: Sunsets, a Big, Big Dune, Medieval Feelings, and the perfect dinner.

First of all the sunsets.

Being on the west coast, there was nothing between the sun and me as it sank into the sea. Given that just about every campsite was close to the beach, my nightly ritual was to walk along the beach and watch the sun dip lower and lower. I was learning the pace of the natural rhythm, waking with the sun, bedding down with the sunset. It was such a change, and truthfully, a positive change. I felt tired and satisfied every evening and refreshed the following morning.

Watching the sunset gave me the time and the opportunity to think of the day just gone. It was actually a very useful and valuable exercise and a habit I tried to keep when I made it home.

Some of the beaches were not safe for swimming and some were famous for surfing, windsurfing and kitesurfing. There were some amazing skills on display some evenings, while on another I enjoyed an almost pantomime performance of a kitesurfer who could not control their kite - on land or on water.

The sound of waves breaking and washing up on the sand was a wonderfully soothing sound. When I was really lucky I could still hear the sea in my tent.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Nantes to Bayonne ctd......

Lots of boats to keep me happy!​

There were also some lovely forest routes​

The Dune:
There’s a very detailed Veoldyssey website with huge amounts of information on it. I had studied it extensively, copying large parts into my kindle to act as an on the road guide. But here’s the thing with sitting down and reading something and actually doing something - they are totally different! And The Dune is the perfect example for this. I’d seen this dune in the info. It made zero impression. A big pile of sand. So what? But The Dune? That was something different altogether!

I became aware of this huge pile of sand on my right hand side as I cycled along. There were regular campsites on both sides of the road, so I picked one and rolled in. Pitching my tent, there was this huge pile of sand directly behind the campsite. I could see a couple of people slowly making their way up. In one place there was a ladder type device, laid flat in the sand to ease the climbing.
I chatted to a German couple in a campervan who were enjoying their retirement then set off to climb this thing behind me. I had zero enthusiasm. It was too early to eat, this was just something to do to pass the time.

The first thing that struck me when I left the back of the campsite was just how big this thing was - it was HUGE! I couldn’t see an end, either side and it towered above me. The second thing that happened was that I literally stepped back in time as I stepped onto the soft sand and felt my foot sink in, the fine sand flowing around my sandalled foot and between my toes. Off with the sandles and soon my feet were sinking deep into the sand, almost burning on the surface, but cooling pleasantly the deeper they went.
I quickly figured out to head for the flat ladder placed in the sand, otherwise I’d never get up.
The view at the top was phenomenal. On the land side, campsite after campsite. On the road there were big gaps between them, but they all met each other at the back. Seeward, the tide was out so there were little channels in the sand and the sea off in the distance.
The photos cannot do any justice. The scale is just so big. But it was great up there!

I had literally entered a completely different world! I walked along up and down wondering if this is what it was like in deserts? It was so easy to get lost. Features in sand all look alike - As I discovered when I realised I’d left my camera on one of the spots where I had been sitting. You’d think it would be easy to retrace my steps (literally), but I hadn’t been the only person up there so there were footsteps all over - all looking the same. Thankfully, after an hour or so of searching, I found it exactly where I had left it.
I’d like to say what happened next came from within, but the truth is I’d seen a couple making their way down earlier. If going up was tough, going down seemed to be harder - until with peals of laughter and screams of joy they started to run down hand in hand until first one, then the other, tumbled and rolled down.

I was too sensible for that, so when my time came, I gingerly started to walk down in a zig zag pattern. But gravity had other ideas and I could feel myself being pulled down. Ah, to hell with it, I took a quick look around, could see no one else and started to run a little.

I’ve done a few things in my life that, if pushed, I’d admit to being pretty proud of. And this is one of those! The sheer joy of running down a hill of sand, your feet sinking in sand half way up your calf, the contrast between the warm air, the hot surface sand, the cool deeper sand, the softness of the sand when you eventually fall (and you will!) and the simple fact of time travel to a simpler, childlike time is something that has me breaking into a smile, even now.
I hooted. I hollered! I laughed out loud, big guffaws of fun and pleasure. And then I tumbled, finally succumbing to the top heavy situation as my torso was moving faster than my legs could handle. And that was even more fun! Total chaos as sand, then sky, then sand again flashed past my eyes, my body rolling and tipping, arms and legs flailing, sand squeezing between my lips and up my nose, filling my ears. My body was thrashing at high speed with absolutely no danger. So. Much. Fun!

When I finally stopped, I lay panting, exhilarated, staring at the blue sky rapidly maturing from a little kid back to an adult.

With regret, I picked myself up and shuffled towards the campsite, a little disoriented from the spinning through the sand, but more disorientated from the spinning through the years.

My disorientation continued when I couldn’t find my tent, nor the friendly retired German couple. Then I realised I was in the wrong campsite! Embarrassed, I shuffled towards the exit, along the road and back into the proper campsite.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Nantes to Bayonne ctd….

Medieval Reenactments!

I had brought my Kindle with me for this trip. As well as a compilation of notes for the trip it also had a few books that I was enjoying. Having avoided the Game of Thrones TV series and books, I had decided to give them a go on the road. In truth, this was an inspired choice as there were lots of ruins along the way, bringing a reality to some of the scenes depicted in the books. Then there was the fact that I was on a bike, not too far from a horse, in reality. Then it all came together in one place.

I had stopped at a campsite and went to check in. There were lots of campsites in the area and there was no real reason for selecting this one. I rolled in, settled the bike and went over to a hatch in an office with a man behind the glass.

He didn’t want to take me. Shook his head in what could only be described as a stereotypical, French “Non”.

Then he smiled and explained he thought they might be a bit expensive for me. Indignantly, I wanted to know his prices. He told me and followed up with a suggestion for a campsite that might be more in my budget.

He was right! His campsite was very expensive. He was actually doing me a favour. I was grateful and thought I might eat in their restaurant later as a thank you - until I saw their prices!

Anyways, on to the cheaper campsite, friendly check in and off to my spot. Further south now and the ground was harder. Rock hard. There were no stones around to hammer in my pegs. I looked and poked and stealthily peered around. Nothing. So I hopped up on my bike and cycled back to the office to borrow a hammer or mallet. He wasn’t surprised and gave me what could only be described as an old, old, sledgehammer with a half length shaft. Off I cycled back towards my tent swinging the hammer and suddenly some of the battle scenes I had been reading of came to life, right there, in the French sunshine, I was no longer a galoot riding his bike through France, I was a knight, astride his trusty mount, armed and ready for battle…… with the hard ground!

The perfect meal

A particularly enjoyable meal!​

Everybody knows France has some fantastic food - and I was eating my way through France. It was wonderful. Great food. Fantastic value. I ate outside whenever I could. The fresh, sea air seasoning the food in a magical way.

More boats! ​

I distinctly recall in a tiny village having the choice of pizza or kebab and opting for a kebab. Now, I like a good kebab, but let's face it - they are normally thrown together quickly and while tasty, are unlikely to feature in Instagram posts. But, of course, in France it has to be different! My kebab was prepared with the utmost of care with the finest lamb. I saw it - it was really, really good quality. It was assembled with precision and artistry that suggested preservation in a museum of food rather than demolition by a hungry cyclist!

There was no place to sit inside so I sat down for my feast on a bench outside. The old man from behind the counter joined me for a bit of a chat - limited by total lack of conversational French and a mouth full of divine flavours.

Yet one of the simplest meals was the most memorable.

I was camped a few kms back and had set off looking for food. On the sea wind I picked up something pleasant that I followed past some terrace restaurants to a little stand alone shack, not much bigger than a garden shed. Inside was a little old man and a young girl, a table, a big oven and a fridge - But from that shack came the most amazing aroma!

A steady stream of locals were coming by to pick up their pizzas, so I got one too and a couple of cans of beer. A walk of 10 meters along the prom to a bench and I got to sit down and eat the most delicious pizza as the sun dipped into the sea that was lapping at my feet.

As for the cycling, I found the biggest challenge to be the heat, relieved somewhat by the headwind. The surfaces were normally very good, sometimes sandy. There was a bit of a detour inland around an army base, where the surfaces alternated between poor and excellent, but nothing that should cause any difficulties. Sometimes there were little paths off to a small beach that would have been nice to spend a few hours. Overall, very pleasant cycling with increasing costs the further south I went. Daily distances averaged out between 60 and 80 km. I learned to stop and smell the roses (well, the sea really), so distance was not the priority.
Navigation was mainly straightforward - keep the sea on the right! - perfect for someone as navigationally challenged as me!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

Nantes to Bayonne ctd….

Adventures in Bayonne

I was camped just north of Bayonne and my rough plan was to head to Bayonne and cheat a little by catching the train to St. Jean Pied de Port, one of the recognised starting points of the Camino Frances, the most popular route to Santiago.

I did feel a little guilty about cheating, but the alternative was pootling along some narrow roads with no maps and besides, I was in for some monster climbing the next day.

So I hit Bayonne, went to the train station and bought a ticket for me - one for the bike was not necessary. Then, they told me that the train was not running - there would be a bus instead!! You've got to love the French! 😀

Since that wasn’t for hours, I went off exploring Bayonne on the bike. Lovely city in the sunshine. It speaks volumes that I have practically no photos of Bayonne (and none with me) - I was charmed by the place and enjoyed cycling around and exploring. (Taking photos was something I actually had to teach myself to do!)

Back at the station, there was now a very large group of potential pilgrims, all with big, heavy backpacks, hungrily eyeing up four buses parked together.

When a fifth bus pulled up, the crowd surged towards it, pushing and shoving with even a little trampling. The only “Christian” analogy I could see was with those in the Coliseum - trying to evade the lions!

As the first bus was invaded the driver could be seen pointing to the second bus and as that filled up, that driver pointed to the third bus. Being a keen observer and unable to get close with a loaded bike, I approached the fourth bus driver, showed her my ticket, she nodded, so I loaded the bike in the luggage space underneath and hopped into the front seat. A few minutes later I was on my way!

I was enjoying the view along the coast very much, until I realised that I was seeing a little bit too much of the coast. Since this was a replacement service, there was no itinerary on display, at least none that I could see. But I knew where St. Jean was and I was going nowhere near it. At the next stop, I approached the driver, again with my ticket and she gesticulated wildly “Non! Non! Non!”. I was on the wrong bus!

On the wrong road! ​

I hopped down to unload my bike and gear and as I scrabbled around in the underbelly of the bus I became aware of a pair of legs standing right behind me. When I was back out in the real world the legs had developed into a tall South African. He asked me where I was going. I told him I was trying to get to St. Jean but that I was on the wrong bus. He said “Me too!”. When I asked him why he was on the wrong bus, he gave an answer that anyone who knows me would never give - “You seemed to know where you were going so I followed you”!

I had been planning on heading off on the bike, but felt a bit of responsibility for my new friend. We went into the bus station, explained the situation (to much amusement!) and were told what bus to take back to Bayonne, to catch a later bus to St. Jean. A scribbled message on our tickets (no doubt including derogatory references to silly foreigners) and we didn’t have to pay an extra cent!

Later than planned we arrived in St. Jean, neither of us with a place to stay. I had hoped to stay in a particular Alberue (Hostel for pilgrims), sorry, Gite, in France, as I had had my Ortlieb panniers sent down, but they were full. I retrieved my panniers and we went looking for a place to stay.

We found a charming little place on the edge of town and had a very tasty, simple meal. The Landlady, far too young to be so described, was like a strict matron, but with a twinkle in her eye. She warned us that 2 beers were our limit!

A trio of young English, I reckon gap year students, were heading out for a look around town as we finished our meals. She warned them in strangely accented French not to get drunk, but the poor kids had no idea what she was trying to say. When I translated for them, they were mortified at the suggestion. Nevertheless, it was an amusing scene.

(They were two guys and a girl, clearly a couple and the poor gooseberry. Later that night the girl crept out of her bed and into her boyfriend's where they snuggled and whispered to each other before falling asleep. The next morning, the friend woke early and seeing the situation, crept over to wake them up and have her return to her own bed, preserving her honour in a room of strangers. I thought it was a wonderfully innocent and sweet scene. I had several conversations with them over the course of the day but never mentioned that I had seen the midnight bedhopping!)

That night there were about 12 of us in one room. Apart from the two of us and the three young drunkards (they really weren't!), everybody else was already in bed. My new companion made himself really popular by facetiming his wife and moaning about how hard it all was, how far he was walking and how sore his feet were. He’d started in Lourdes, got lost in the city, so had caught a bus to Bayonne where he followed me. Honestly, he was like a little child - and everybody knew it because he was shouting in a room with 11 other people in it - all trying to sleep!

Next day the start of the Camino!

This brings an end to the Velodyssey section of this trip. I'll start a new travelogue for the Camino itself.

I thoroughly enjoyed it! I've read reports that people found some of the coastal and forestry sections to be boring - I certainly didn't but having a Kindle and an (overactive) imagination certainly helped. Having said that, I had no time limit - perhaps if I had a set deadline my attitude might have been different.

I thought the route had a bit of everything, albeit in long sections. The northern section was certainly more diverse and anyone put off by some of the dodgy tracks should know that asphalt alternatives were available nearby.

Having had an unpleasant experience in France years ago, I had set off with the intention of grabbing a train to Spain if necessary. I'm happy to report that either France changed, or I did in the meantime! It was charming, friendly and very language tolerant. Perhaps it was the bike, perhaps not. On subsequent adventures in France this impression has only become stronger. France is a great place for a bike adventure!

A teaser for the next day 😊​

 

[netman]

Merci beaucoup - hasta mañana!

 

[HobbesOnTour]

The sequel can be found Here

 

[Brads]

My youngest is called Calvin , for reasons you can probably guess haha.

 

[HobbesOnTour]

My youngest is called Calvin , for reasons you can probably guess haha.

If he's got a tiger tell him to be careful - they have a tendency to wander off

 

[Brads]

He does, more than one.

One is tattooed on his arse so it's going nowhere !

 

[HobbesOnTour]

He does, more than one.

One is tattooed on his arse so it's going nowhere !

That's an image that won't disappear soon!