bikes

I have a new climbing partner today. A Dutch bike, painted black and silver, from the Focus company. I hope he's not related to the horrible Prog-Rock band of the 1970�s, also called Focus. I quickly offer my friend a new name, Tjalling, in honour of the translator of my books in The Netherlands. When I�m not riding a bike, I�m an author of books for children and young adults, and Tjalling, the translator, has done a sterling job on four of my novels. In cold but clear conditions, Tjalling and I set out from Argeles-Gavost, a lovely village in the Pyrenees, to climb Col d�Aubisque, one of the legendary climbs of the Tour de France. So legendary in fact that it was included in La Grande Boucle every year from it�s debut in 1910 until 1977.  Astonishing! However, the first few kilometres are hardly welcoming, offering a brutal 8.5 % gradient. I�m being tailed by two riders who are gratefully getting assistance at the beginning of a long climb. When we reach level ground in the Val d�...

The Col d�Aspin has featured sixty-six times in the Tour de France and yet is relatively unknown compared to its more prominent Pyrenees partners such as Tourmalet, Peyresourde and Superbagneres. Perhaps it's the relatively �minor� altitude of 1,489 metres that sees it, literally and metaphorically, dwarfed against the Pyrenean giants. This is a pity. Col d�Aspin is truly one of the great mountain climbs of the Tour de France.  I begin the ascent from the east side in the village of Arreau very early in the morning, far too early for any self-respecting French cyclist. Consequently, I have the road to myself. It�s only nine degrees as I set out and Aspin offers me an easy warm-up with the first few kilometres among the forest beside a rushing stream, averaging 4%. The road is much narrower than many Tour climbs and has lovely old stone walls as embankments. I am climbing a historic road, first used in the Tour in 1910. The gradient soon cranks up and I�m amazed at the splendid view...

In 2010, I drove a car half-way up Col du Tourmalet, in the French Pyrenees. It was a terribly misty and rainy day, with the wind blowing a gale. I parked by the side of the road and opened the car door. The wind nearly blew it from its hinges. I scrambled out and took photos of myself, the fool in the mist. I got back in the car, where my travelling companions all agreed we should head back down the mountain. As I reversed out of the car park, four cyclists rode past us, up the hill, into the tumult. What I was scared to attempt in a car, they were doing on bicycles. I looked up towards the summit, shrouded in cloud and wanted to follow this strange band of hardy lycra-wearing crazies. Today, in Sainte-Marie-de-Campan, I have my chance. I�m about to climb one of the most revered and feared climbs of the Tour de France. Not from the side I�d driven up in 2010, because it�s still closed due to recent flooding. I�m climbing the  equally-difficult east side. It was from this side in 1...

The Col de Peyresourde starts in the spa town of Bagnere-de-Luchon. I arrive in Luchon on a sunny afternoon and go to the first bike shop I can find. It looks more like a cyclo cemetery with bike parts, tubes and tyres scattered around the entrance. There are numerous second-hand bikes for sale. They all look rather creaky and sad. The owner comes out from his workshop and nods hello. I ask to hire a �velo pour le montagnes.� My grammar is like my cycling, shaky at the best of the times. The owner looks around the mess of his workshop and walks across to a black carbon fibre model that looks sturdy yet... well-used. I ask him the price. Usually, daily rental cost is between 30 and 45 Euros. He says, '15 Euros.' I nod blankly, trying to hide my excitement. �Avez vous pump, repair kit,� I say, mixing bad french with lazy English. He shrugs, but I think it means yes. I return an hour later, dressed in serious lycra, and he takes my credit card and 15 Euros. With some sluggishness,...

We leave Carcassonne riding between two UNESCO World Heritage Sites - the Canal Du Midi and the Cite Medieval. It's very exciting and the canal path welcomes us with a stately row of plane trees. What a surprise. An even bigger surprise is the flat front tyre Jenny (the name of Cathie's bike) gets beside a lock. I repair it in double quick time. Actually, it takes the usual 20 minutes of cursing and head scratching. Cathie gets back on Jenny and rides two metres before I notice the back tyre is flat as well. More cursing, more head scratching, more dunking the inflated tube into the canal to see if my repair held. It did. And we're away, hungry and frustrated and my... look at that path, isn't it splendidly bumpy and pock-marked and muddy and no wonder there's few cyclists out today. Every second barge we pass flies the Australian flag. It's peak season for 'g'days' shouted from the bow. Or is that the stern? Or the port side? Whatever.  In the afte...

No sane human would get bored of cycling under the majestic canopy of century-old plane trees. Right? But after 20,000 of the green and mighty blighters, it was nice to arrive in Toulouse where humans outnumbered falling leaves.  This morning, we cycled to the meeting point of the Canal du Garonne and Canal du Midi to say one last farewell to the Garonne and to officially begin the Canal du Midi journey at the correct location.  We share the path with rushing commuters and quite a lot of homeless people sleeping and living under the canal bridges. By mid-morning, we're back in the rural landscape and have the canal path largely to ourselves, save for the occasional couple out cycling, sans panniers.  The scenery is spectacular. Unlike the Garonne, the Canal du Midi feels much more like a slow-flowing river, with regular bends, overgrown trees and creepers and lovely views from the bank to the vineyards and rolling hills planted with wheat.  But, I'm shocked by the st...

Day Two: It's always pleasant to start the morning with a viewing of priceless art up close, with no-one else around, in a church of a small village in south-west France. Welcome to the parish church at Le Mas d'Agenais, a steep but short hill climb up from the Canal du Garonne. The painting in question is an early Rembrandt, depicting Christ on a Cross. I gaze at the painting for awhile. I could reach up, lift it off the wall and no-one would know a thing. Except you dear reader. But, I didn't. I went to the boulangerie and had a cannelle instead. Another masterpiece.  the lavoir at Le Mas d'Agenais We cycle between plane trees for the rest of the day until turning off the canal to Vianne, a wonderful bastide village surrounded by a high wall and with a history dating back to the 13th Century, of which little remains. Most of the existing buildings date from the 19th Century. I love the four arched entrances to the village and the towers at the corners. It'd be gre...

The Canal du Garonne flows for 200 kilometres from Castets-en-Dorthe, near Bordeaux to Toulouse. From Toulouse, it links with the 17th Century Canal du Midi which continues all the way to the Mediterranean 240 kilometres south. Known as the Canals des Deux Mers , these two waterways were an invaluable route between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean for maritime commerce for centuries. Now, they're a haven for cyclists. For the next two weeks, we'll be cycling along the quiet canals, with an occasional detour to a hillside French village for cakes and coffee.  The first day was spent cycling under the magnificent plane trees in the above photos. Sadly, these iconic symbols of the canals are under threat from a wilt infection that is slowly killing them. Already, 2,500 have been destroyed and it's projected that all 42,000 will have to be culled.  I'll repeat that. 42,000 trees. Many were planted in the 1830s. The government has pledged to replace all of them, hopefully ...

The Passo Dello Stelvio is a mountain pass located in the Dolomites in Italy. At 2,758 metres, it�s the highest mountain pass of any of the Grand Cycling Tours. Two weeks ago, it was supposed to have been one of the finishing stages of the 2013 Giro d�Italia, but the organisers had to switch location because the summit was still snowbound. Today the signs at the foot of the climb still warn that the other side remains closed from just over the summit. So, if I make the top, it�s a u-turn and back down the same way. If I make the summit. I�m ill-prepared for this climb, as this morning I�ve driven four hundred kilometres from Germany, after getting lost twice in the backblocks of Switzerland. This has scuttled my plans to hire a road bike, as all the shops are closed until 4pm for the Italian siesta.  So, after a very quick lunch, I get Craig, my trusty old hybrid out of the car and start the climb. His chain still squeaks from getting drenched in Germany along the Danube and h...