GPS 44° 48.246'N 3° 25.460'E +1129m to Aumont-Aubrac

Dark clouds when I get up, but then sun through a low gap under them. Forecast says rain in the morning on one channel, afternoon on another.

Most inedible breakfast to date - "French toast", last night's left over bread from supper grilled more to desiccate than brown. Not even a croissant as well! Choked down a couple of slices, but most of calories came from sugaring the coffee. Meanwhile all the other tables were sending out for seconds!

Sun gone when we set out, but will make brief appearances during the day. The hotel being off the main route, only a few today - the couple from day one, and two "hares". Our breath steams in the chill air. Meet the counter-marching guy again. Tells us that Jacqueline with the two dogs - it turns out she's Swiss - is ahead, or in the lead. Unsurprisingly, we don't catch her up, but I do meet him one more time on the way. Two miles down the road, at the only town en route (St. Alban), we have lost the retired couple, and when I get out the other side, the other two have vanished. Second breakfast?

Briefly lose GR65 on reaching the D4, so go to crossroads with D987, and pick up the trail as it leaves the 987 later.

Off road now, on chalk track, just enough brightness to make it sticky, with the promise of rain always in the wind. More of the clear-cut and abandon, with sparse lines of trees around spaces where trunks have been left until they weather to grey. Overtake other walkers, exchange brief greetings. Not too much of the eroded streambeds today, and not so many long descents. Emerge from final long off-road, to find a local entrepreneur has advertised his taxi service ("Allo Taxi") just on the corner - "any baggage, any distance, equipped to handle travel for medical reasons".

Stop at convenient bench at edge of Aumont, eat melon (had the fromage blanc for elevenses), then head on in. Carry on past hotel to locate station for tomorrow, then back. No sign of a grocer, but pass plenty of boucherie/charcuteries, a news agent, a couple of shops selling general tat.

Turn back to hotel to arrive at same time as the Michels.

This far down the line, Chinese whispers seem to have attacked my name, so take a while to locate my reservation in their book (no, I'm not the M. Zeeman due tomorrow) but that sorted, my bag is waiting for me. Poky shower, so sponge bath when hot water finally arrives. This way I give my dodgy toe (slowly healing but only just faster than abrasion) a chance to air and dry.

After a while to recover, set out to locate any sign of cheese vendor, also to check out the station in more detail and do GPS fix. Find a grocer at last, down a tiny side street, then get to station in time to see the evening bus to Clermont arrive. Useful - now I know which side to wait. On the way back to the hotel, the rain belatedly starts. Meet Jacqueline, the dogs and the counter-marching chap, so make my farewells, before dashing for shelter.

Dinner is soup (diced vegetables in clear stock), a puff pastry cheese sauce thing, pork steak on pasta, cheese (Cantal and St Nectaire), and the bread and butter pud, which seems to be a local specialty.

GPS 44° 57.572'N 3° 32.799'E +979m to Les Faux

More rain overnight, but stopped by daylight.

Breakfast was a buffet so I had three (small) bowls each fruit salad, and muesli+yoghurt, plus plenty of juice and just enough coffee. One of the Michels is sufficiently sleepy that he almost pours coffee into his juice glass.

As I was checking out, he and the rest of the fast crew from yesterday were walking out the door, and after I'd stopped at the p'tit Casino for fruit and fromage blanc, I thought the dots on the horizon would be the last I saw of them for the day.

The weather is cool, cloudy, damp, with some sun breaking thro' to make it steamy. Rain blowing on wind.

After an hour, I pass the others sitting by the side of the track, munching. Later, they pass me, and this happens three or four times, until I just have joke about the hare and the tortoise - having seen one yesterday, I didn't have to look up lièvre. But honestly they were at it like hobbits!

Today the route passes through a lot of rolling terrain with pines, clear cut in places, sometimes with the cut trees just left lying. In places the ground has been cleared of stumps and loosely ploughed, in othes the debris seems to have been left simply for the locals to help themselves to firewood. The trees, gorse, and dull weather reminded me of the journey from New Plymouth to Rotorua.

Ninety minutes in, suffered through what would have been an hour of soft weather, except for the wind bringing the drizzle in almost horizontally. A brolly was very useful - I was already soaked with sweat in the steamy heat, so wearing waterproofs would have been a disaster. Gaiters are useful too!

Sun comes out, so now have parasol as brolly dries. Winding through a little village, with a horrendous steep descent and inquisitive dogs - up to now all local wuffs encountered had been dozy.

There are tadpoles, legless so far, in the puddles!

I am sure that a chap who passes me in opposite direction about half eleven is the same as did an hour or more before.

By noon, I'm halfway up scramble under trees near Chanaleilles. I listen to my legs and stop - peach, yoghurt and an oeuf dur abstracted from the breakfast buffet.

Load thus lightened, stride up to encounter the hobbits again. A stream to cross with interestingly menhir-like bridge, where a stepping stone would have been less precarious. A gate to wrestle with - needed a lot of lifting to fit the bolt back. Now on main road, and decide to skip two miles of detour. Renewed rain rakes this fairly unanimous.

It stops just as I approach the St Roch chapel and refuge, but I stop anyway to have a lunch of oranges and fromage blanc. "Tea time" quips Michel as they pass me for the last time. Off the road now and back in woods. Sun emerges for brief Fangornish ("almost felt I liked the place") moment, before becoming dull again. On home stretch now, where I'm overtaken by two cyclists. One loses (it had come loose, and he simply removed it rather than reattaching it) his back mudguard, which he soon regrets, the path being rather muddy. Guide-book says to take care to take turn off the GR65 to the village a mile or so off to the side where I'm staying, but the only care needed is to not walk into the sign for the place! (I'd expected one as it had been signed on the path before I'd reached Saugues!)

Of course this bit in the open was the only bit of blazing sun, and of course the auberge was the building on a rise that I passed going to the main road, so had to double back! There'll be a serious set of corrigenda this one.

Very much a restaurant on this Ascension Day holiday, so it takes a while to get lodged. The room's not en suite, but at least it's modern (a converted/extended old farm house). Much needed shower. I'd hoped to take a relaxing stroll, but by then chilly rain comes and goes outside, I sit and watch watch "Attack of the killer bees" dubbed into French. Soon I'm rooting for the bees, as the victims' stupid behaviour deserved them a Darwin.

Forecast says rain tomorrow morning, dull later. It is chilly now. Dinner comes with 25cl red on the table, kidneybean, corn tomato and egg salad, pork steak on mountain of peas and haricot verts, so it's likely to be windy tomorrow too :) then fromage blanc, bread and butter pud with plums, coffee. GPS makes this the highest stop so far.

GPS 44° 59.372'N 3° 40.738'E +892m to Sauges

Miserable breakfast - bread, jam, watery juice, at least coffee was self serve. Got free drinks without needing to ask as I'd had "une surprise".

On the road soon after eight, and met the overburdened woman from yesterday, who'd managed to lighten her load. Introductions, her name is Marie-Claude, most of the blokes in the ad hoc party that has assembled seem to be called Michel. Easy ascent to start, just have to keep an eye out for the often distant or tiny red and white waymarks. Having a team helps, so if I'm looking at the cherry blossom, others can spot a turning, or if one of the leaders misses a mark, I can yell. M-C keeps telling us to go on ahead at our own pace, but she is cracking along faster than I or the oldest Michel with the "ski-sticks" who I was pacing much of yesterday afternoon (until he'd fallen behind while I'd speeded up to tell about the dog's paw).

At Rochegude, we cross from Velay to Gévaudan - avec sa Bête - and have to make a long descent on an eroded path, with exposed rock, all sizes of loose, and tree roots. Michel with the ski sticks has an advantage with his "freins permanentes", but by the bottom we are all giggling with relief. Now in town of Montirol to cross the Allier, and nearly go astray by crossing nice new modern bridge. More descent to an old footbridge, and now a ninety minute ascent, zig-zagging back and forth sometimes with log steps or hand rail.

The slowest members of the group - those behind me - detach to take the main road while the rest struggle on to summit. Lunch as yesterday. Others have been snacking at every pause, but as usual, being in motion - and hot - kills my appetite. I am bombarded with - and have to decline - offers of bread and cheese and ham - despite water in handy carry pack to drink while walking (Platypus brand), my mouth too dry for such foods. I joke with them that I'm supposed to be losing weight, and pat my tummy. "Pas aujourdhui," quips M-C.

From now most of the way is gently rolling, so making a steady pace difficult, changing gears every couple of minutes as the gradient alters. Meet one chap going the other way to retrieve his car, then to collect his wife whose knees have given out. At one place the Belle France instructions talk of the track becoming a footpath - actually it narrows between barbed wire fences and becomes a stream with occasional ponds. Unlike the earlier wadis.

Finally long descent to Saugues. I stop to take a picture of town, with its tower fortified against the Angevins (the Tour des Anglais), and some abstract sculpture on the hillside. The lost Michels arrive on the main road as the main body of the group approach it, and they all head off down into town. Meanwhile I've spotted somethnng, and detour to a viewpoint just up the road where I take a photo of a sculpture carved in red wood of La Bête (as made famous in the recent film Brotherhood of the Wolf (Pacte des Loups)), then, as it is still only just 2pm, I find a convenient bench to read a "Cat who..." until a sensible time to make the rest of the descent.

No screw-ups this time - the room is spartan, but modern, though it seems that pilgrims eschew the TV, so no weather forecast again. But there was a much needed hot bath. Today was mainly overcast, with a light breeze, and the early morning and noon showing some hazy sunshine, some sullen heat in arvo. Public holiday, so town dead. Hope there's some life tomorrow a.m. for restocking! It starts raining in the early evening, which stops later, but heavy low cloud.

Salmon tartlet w/melted cheese, chicken breast and fancy mash, cheese (St Nectaire and chevre), fruit pie. 1/2 bt Côtes du Rhone red.

GPS 45° 2.431'N 3° 53.321'E to St Privat.

After a steep climb to the cathedral (45° 2.735'N 3° 53.050E altitude 666m :) ), arriving just at the same time as late Mass begun (at 09:00), so skipped the peek inside, and descended to begin the walk, taking snaps of the town as I went.

On the outskirts, saw a much overladen young lass - I'd thought I'd overdone it by that stage, but she had maybe 3x the load I was carrying! Was caught up by a pleasant couple from Chateauneuf du Pape, who looked to be youngish fifty-somethings, but were retired. Indeed most of the walkers look older than me, and a whole lot seem to be on the whole 1400km shindy! (Apparently there were 30 at the early Mass for pilgrims). Behind us, the tower of Polignac thrust up, giving the finger to the entire district, overlooking the town. Unfortunately, it got washed out in the glare behind it in the photos I took looking back.

Up on the top of the ridge leading from le Puy, it didn't look too much different from the Dales, except for that peculiarly French style of rural dereliction. That and laying in this year's crop of Puy lentils rather than just grazing sheep.

Found out that this week has two public holidays, Wed and Thur, even though they had the first as Mayday.

Stopped for elevenses at St. Christophe, a peach and a yoghurt from the Casino at Le Puy, and was there caught up by overburdened lass, but I was definitely feeling far too loaded to help, now that the sun was blazing down. Hope she got to her destination and can shed some load.

This route very well waymarked, with only one tiny need to retrace where the red and white mark was not obvious on a farm building. Lunched on some bread pud, and more of the usual fruit and yoghurt. I parted company from the couple for a while, as I ate more simply - no thermos of soup, or such.

They caught me up later as we were entering Montbonnet, but just at that point, dived into a wayside church and I didn't see them again 'til supper. By now, four hundred meters above start, despite some descents. And another two hundred loomed. New companions by now, all looking or sounding tired and less banter. A stiff ascent to Lac de l'Oeuf, and cloud cutting sun to leave chilly wind. In pinewoods at top, the wind was blocked leaving a sullen heat in background.

Get caught up by a lass with two dogs who I saw on the local train to le Puy on Monday, and one dog grabs the ankle of my trousers, nearly tripping me. She is clearly the youngest so far I've seen on the trail, and despite being burdened with full camping gear including tin mugs and coffee pot, is striding faster than the older walkers, despite all their ski-pole like walking sticks. Her calls to the dogs, who have too much energy to make comfortable watching, marked her as German, the only non-francophone I meet (discounting the one Quebecker).

Later, the little dog who nearly tripped me started pausing and chewing at her toes on one foot, which I could see as they were all ahead of me by now. Caught up when the girl stopped to pick cowslips, which are plentiful here, and recited some preassembled German to tell her - and dog obligingly demonstrates, so I add "comme ça." Two thorns are duly removed from the paw, and the trio sped ahead down the patella-popping descent to St Privat, which had already detached the two of us from the other walkers. Hollow laughter on emerging from woods from what otherwise seemed a dead end to see a "Ralentissez Enfants" sign. Any kids would have run me over!

Arrive at hotel to find it shut. Find person at local bar down the road to open it. By now desperate for loo, stretchdown and shower. But disaster! Room not beddered! Manage first two, drag on sweat soaked outfit, back down the road to complain. No en suite rooms left, and no bedder to fix this one! Change to what's on offer and sponge-bath. Only thing firm about the bed is the bolster. Feeling v chilled now, so snuggle under covers in cleanish clothes 'til supper. Anonymous pinkish cream-of-veg soup, pallid sausage on huge heap of lentils vanish as fuel, don't really start noticing details until the fromage blanc. Too soon. The cold apple pie was more just fuel. Intend to argue for free wine to offset room downgrade tomorrow. If the lingo will take it. Getting more frustrated with ersatz stylus.

Velay walking : To Paris

With various domestic crises, I didn't do such a holiday in '01. Now in '02, I turned to a walking holiday of the same "they carry your bags" type along the first section of the St Jacques de Compostelle trail from Le Puy-en-Velay (aka GR65), where Belle France were simply acting as intermediaries for a French concern. While I was the only Belle France person doing the tour, at least this time the popularity of the walk meant that I was not alone as I travelled (as the Auvergne and Dordogne cycling had been). And unlike the other tours, I kept a diary as I went, PalmOS PDAs being useful like that.

It was not an auspicious start when the ticket machine at Waterloo International swallowed my ticket as being too sweaty (carried in an inside pocket, between me and a small ruck-sack carried in front (big backpack on back) and chewed it up. Realised I'd left the decent camera at home - just in time to get another one-use one, and now find I've left my Palm stylus behind, and to cap it all, the hotsync I did before setting out has managed to get the keyboard hacks fighting each other, so I am stuck with the default one, and no way to reset now but wait for the timeout before fixing it. *sigh*

At Calais saw brazen queues of migrants heading to the track side in broad daylight, with no sign of any official presence at all. Lunch was a sausage roll and a pastie from the Oggy Oggy Pasty shop at Euston station.

Paris was much as usual, and, this being the day before the presidential election, I was pleased to see very few pro le Pen posters or graffiti. Had a pint of Rodenbach at the Trappiste (4 Rue St. Denis, a usual haunt for a beer-lover like myself), foie gras and magret de canard en cidre at la Galtouse (a traditional French paysan cooking restaurant in Rue Pierre Lescot near Les Halles). And I really need a stylus!

Dordogne

After the Auvergne cycling in '99, I went on the Dordogne single-base holiday in the middle of July '00. The idea was that you got dropped off by van every morning and cycled back to the hotel. Unfortunately I chose the week leading up to the Bastille Day holiday, for which I was punished by rain, a spell of fine weather just having broken as I arrived. This meant that it was cold, wet, and hilly enough to be not fun. Worse, the supplied itinerary booklet was badly enough edited to be nigh useless, and ambiguously worded enough that on more than one occasion I had to exhaustively take all routes out of a village and proceed some miles along each one to be certain it was the wrong one until I found the one actually alluded to (not helped by the French habit of signing random and different habitations at each junction).

That somewhat soured me to the idea (and I swore that next time, I'd take a GPS receiver with me for just such an eventuality)

Auvergne

This tour was based from a workshop in a hamlet near Paulhaguet, itself a small village on the Clermont-Ferrand to Le Puy en Velay railway line, most of the way to Le Puy. Travel was via Eurostar to Paris, metro to the Gare de Lyon, to catch the train via Clermont-Ferrand to Paulhaguet, which has a stop which barely counts as a station. The Auvergne tour itineraries have since changed, even to using different hotels in the same towns.

The standard tours were 6 nights of either Valleys or Velay; I did an 8-nights combination, slightly customised for the fact that one of the usual hotels was hosting a wedding party one of the nights I was there. The accomodation was generally unpretentious, but comfortable with plenty of good cooking at dinner.

Taking the tour in June '99 I spent the first night in Chavaniac-Lafayette (that's Lafayette as in the American Revolution, back when the two countries were in accord about revolutions and that sort of thing), before being transported to the base workshop. The journey from Paulhaguet came back through Chananiac to Siaugues St. Romain for the night, then on to St. Paulien. From here, I took a side trip to see the "fortresse feodal" as the roadsigns put it at Polignac (see picture).

This view is taken from the minor road that runs through the village of Blanzac, which was the recommended route, but for cycling, the smoother surfaced main N102 which cuts through some of the terrain is actually a better road, especially on a Sunday when it's very quiet.

This is one of many castles in the region, which was really only pacified and integrated into France in the last couple of centuries. Polignac's castle was never taken in siege, and was supposedly run by as wicked a set of Barons as you'd ever expect to find in a historical romance. It still looks impressive, even though within the walls, apart from the one tower, there are but a few crumbling bits of masonry and open grass.

From Polignac, I headed north to Allegre, where the ruined castle has left only a grand gateway and a small tower. As I approached the town (on foot, as my chain had snapped between Polignac and St. Paulien - while I could freewheel some of the way, it was convenient that it was only a ten mile walk, though the heat was something fierce), I had wondered just what that thing that was slowly coming into view was. This view is from about a mile south of the town.

Here I rested a couple of nights, taking a day off from the road. When I set off, the weather reminded me that the town is at over 1000m altitude (1107m at the base of the archway), with low cloud providing fog cover as I headed north to la Chaise Dieu, (which was annoying at the time, and is now doubly so as the recent tour routes don't go near this side of the valleys) remaining until I dropped below the cloud base as I headed down the painfully long - 20-odd miles - freewheel to Brioude, with the brakes needing to be pumped most of the way.

Brioude is the major town in this region, and the Hotel de la Poste et Champanne where I stayed was the best on the trip (large comfortable rooms, excellent food, and busy friendly atmosphere). I would recommend this as a base for anyone wanting to do an independent tour of the region.

Now it was already time to return the bike and on the way, another magnificent ruined castle described as a Chateau Feodal, this one at Domeyrat. Alas, I passed this one during the long lunch break, so carried on to the base workshop, and waited, sipping water in the scant shade and sultry heat until my lift to that night's hotel. Given that I was travelling from Brioude the next day, that would have seemed the obvious place to stay, but no, I was billeted at a motel somewhere in between, and taxied again the next morning.

Chartres Cathedral

Various snaps of from a holiday we took in late 98 - staying in Paris, but using the wonders of the 'net to help organise a day trip by SNCF down to Chartres, where we had been briefly about ten years earlier as part of a rather ghastly (friction between a contingent from some Welsh chapel and the coach driver) Paris and environs coach trip. So we wanted to go there in our own time, rather than being chivvied about with not enough time to do one of the guided tours.

Side door at Chartres cathedral

Front aspect

Rear aspect

Detail of one statue in an alcove by the side doorway

Stained glass at Chartres cathedral

Not shown, the Amber-like pattern spiralling in the centre of the interior, mainly because it was obscured by all the chairs set out for services.

Camargue

Having enjoyed the good weather once, we did it again this year, only taking a slightly different itinerary, visiting Aigues Mortes, and then St. Gilles. On the route between, we detoured to the ferry crossing of the Petit Rhône at Bac Sauvage, and to the Parc Ornithologique at Pont de Gau, and assuming there's no Mistral, we'd recommend that route. From St. Gilles, I made a long side trip, via Arles, to Les Baux de Provence (shown here looking south from the crest of the range, with the Rhone delta plain behind the outcrop on which the citadel was built):-

in the Alpilles (inspiration for the town in Robert Westall's The Cats of Seroster), over to St Rémy (where I lunched again at the same excellent crêperie, then back via Tarascon (home of the original tarrasque, for the D&D fans out there), Beaucaire and Bellgarde. [This image has been enlarged from postage-stamp size from a not very good photo, I'm afraid].

On the way from Arles to Les Baux, I nearly got caught in a bull-running event in Fontveille, one of the little towns north of Arles. In fact in late May, the whole area breaks out into bull-fighing and related events, so be warned.

Provence

Having been caught out by the weather last year, the next time we took an activity holiday abroad we headed south for the Provence cycling tour, starting at Nîmes (an easy journey by Eurostar and TGV). From a base south of Nîmes, we headed south to St Gilles which lies on the fringes of the Camargue. I would heartily recommend the Hôtel Le Cours there, for its cheap, filling, and authentic local meals - the 5 course meal for 92fr defeated me every time, even after long side-trips, such as south all the way to the Med at Stes. Maries de la Mer and back.

From St Gilles to Beaucaire, an unremarkable (indeed mildly squalid) little town, enlivened by falconry displays at the castle. They fly traditional hunting birds, owls (as shown here), eagles and even a vulture.

 

From there I also made a side trip to Avignon (that's the famous pont d'Avignon), and thence to St. Rémy de Provence, just north of the Alpilles, and van Gogh's retirement place. I would recommend a little crêperie there, but I can't recall its name.

The final stay was at the Pont du Gard, the famous Roman aqueduct, at the Hôtel Le Colombier (complete with dovecote) just half a mile away from the bridge on the outskirts of the town of Remoulins; and whose exquisite menu I would recommend.

Around the Pont itself, the river runs wide and shallow with sandy beaches suitable for swimming and sunbathing (it doesn't seem to matter to the locals even if you've not got a costume).

While swimming, Karen spotted a watersnake here.

Sologne

This tour started out the same as last year's, getting to the same base at Chitenay.

This tour started by heading east into the Sologne. Alas, while in the previous year, autumnal weather at home turned into summer in France, this time we weren't so lucky. En route to Ferté we went past the Gormenghastian bulk of Chambord (above) - those tiny specks by the gate are people and the windows in the outer wall are about 20 foot tall - on the only good day.

The next day dawned fine, and we headed north to Beaugency on the Loire, where we found an excellent place to lunch, the Crep'zeria (just follow the main street north from the bridge, and it's on the right after no more than 100 yards). Hhere I was befriended by M. Bob, who decided that anyone who gave him the rinds from his ham was a friend for life.

But as we cycled back, the heavens opened. Next day we were at least spared thunderstorms, but there was frequent drizzle and rain. With the temperature having fallen from 21C on arrival to under 10C, the thirty mile journey to Romorantin was highly unpleasant (though we found an excellent place for lunch).

With rain and cold continuing, we didn't go far afield during our stop at Romorantin; just wandered around, with frequent stops for shelter. The main feature I remember of the town is its displays of flowers as pictures or more elaborately such as in this topiary peacock.

Loir et Cher

This tour was based from Chitenay, a small village just south of Blois. We travelled by plane to Paris, then RER and metro to the Gare d'Austerlitz, to catch the train via Orléans to Blois.

The Loire tour went via St Aignan, Montrichard (pictured, on the Cher) and Rilly, (on the Loire), for an 8-night tour, skipping one stop (it differs each year) for a 6-night tour.

August '93 we did the Loire et Cher tour, the shorter version going via Montrichard (right) on the Cher, up to Rilly on the Loire. This tour is geared to chateau visiting, and covers generally easy terrain (the only serious slopes are to be found as you leave the river valleys).

As this was out first tour - and done in a sudden burst of blazing weather at the end of August, we didn't venture too far afield on this tour. The free day at Montrichard we spent heading along the river to the chateau at Chenonceaux, the famous one built across the Loire. On the next day, as the leg to Rilly was only about 10 miles, we made the tour south to the chateau at Montpaupon (pictured) in the first part of the day, spent the heat of the day (3-5pm) on a cruise along the Cher, and only then made the trek to the next night's stay.

At Rilly, we did the obvious day trip to Amboise, where one can visit the house built by Francis I for Leonardo da Vinci on his retirement. The last leg back to base we headed along the Loire, skipping the chateau at Chevignon (we'd rather overdosed on chateaux by this point) crossing to the north through Chouzy-sur-Cisse and into Blois for lunch.

Cycling in France

On and off since the early 1990s, we've taken holidays in France, cycling in civilised fashion with Belle France, a Kent based holiday company doing walks and cycling holidays in France and elsewhere. The civilised nature is enhanced by the fact that they are one of the operators who carry your luggage from hotel to hotel, so all you have to do is carry lunch.

Above is the Chateau of Montpaupon, situated south of the Cher, towards the Indre. This chateau is one the many in the region that are open to visitors (indeed you can easily chat-overdose in the part of the world). To reach it from Montrichard, you can simply follow the main road south; but the route we used was to head west along the Cher to the next town with a crossing, taking the fairly steep climb out of the river valley on quiet (i.e. essentially deserted) country lanes. The picture was taken on our approach, as the side road neared the main road; we then took that route back to Montrichard. This was a quick side-tour from the Loire and Cher package.

Omitted here are short breaks from 2000 in Lille (at Easter - much rain; main sight of interest is the little art deco shop-front designed by the same chap who did the famous Paris Metro signs); and cycling in the Dordogne, based out of Souillac with a drop-off and cycle-back model. This was also wet - I made the mistake of going the week of Bastille Day, and after some rehearsals, the heavens opened for the public holiday, drowning the mass picnic along the Paris meridian (when the lift arrived, j'ai dit "Non!" ) - and the terrain seemed harder going than the Auvergne in terms of ups and downs. Plus poorly written directions and the interrupted construction of a motorway through the region contributed to getting lost enough to swear to take a GPS unit the next time. I never got as far as joining the queues at Lascaux. Overall, the region was too touristified - I could hardly find anywhere to at that wasn't just offering a menu touristique with the inevitable steak frites. But it does do good foie gras...

Our pied à terre for Paris stopovers was the Hôtel Flor Rivoli, in the Rue Deux Boules, just off the Rue Rivoli, close by the Pont Neuf, and the Tuilleries, including the Museum of the Louvre, with the modern glass pyramids. The queue for entry shows how popular it is. And it closes all day one day near the beginning of the week. Consequently, we've never actually ventured inside.