bikes

Last year, I had the pleasure of cycling from the Atlantic Coast of France to Ulm in Germany, nearly 2,000 kilometres alongside numerous rivers and canals. One of the highlights was staying in the restored barn at the B&B of Jean-Paul and Regine in Saint-Firmin-sur-Loire. They fed me excessive amounts of satisfying French food and allowed me to dry off after my first rainy day of the trip. They also offered to bike-sit my red hybrid, named Craig, at the conclusion of my time in Europe. This year, accompanied by my wife Cathie, our first stop in France is a two-day sojourn with Jean-Paul and Regine. Once again, they are the perfect hosts, offering a five course dinner. I won�t go into the sumptuous detail other than to say Jean-Paul�s cassoulet is premiere-class and the cheese plate of five fromages was perhaps too indulgent! We promised to ride off the calories the next day, if only it would stop raining. Voila! The morning dawned dull and cloudy, but sans pluie, so after a breakfa...

From my window, I watch the morning mist shimmer over the surface of the Loire. A big breakfast and an extra layer of clothes are in order. It�s clear and cold, a finger-numbing six degrees as I begin to pedal slowly along the river road.  Despite the bright sunshine, I�ll blame the wind chill for what happens next. A few kilometres past Cande-sur-Bevron, lost in thought over whether to choose a cafe eclair or Paris-Brest pastry at the next boulangerie, I miss the sign for the Eurovelo 6. Or, in my defense, I follow another sign that I think substitutes for the Eurovelo. Merde!  Somehow, I end up in the Foret Domaniale de Russy, which, according to my map, is large and bisected by two D roads. Pity I can�t find either. I ride slowly along the forest path, listening to the ever-present birdsong. Dirt tracks lead off north and south every few hundred metres. I assume I�m heading east. I hope I�m heading east. Spiderwebs stretch across the forest track, like gossamer finishing ta...