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After a thoroughly relaxing week in Lyon with great company, I was again sad to leave a city. Cedric and Phanie had hosted me for over a week in their lovely appartement in the Croix Rousse district. It sits high up, just above the old town, with views across the whole city and off to the mountains in the distance. I had enjoyed indulgent lie-ins, lazy wanderings through the old streets, dicovering the traboules (the secret corridors and passageways that link streets through buildings and courtyards, some dating from the Renaissance), street-art bike rides, bi-lingual scrabble and Saturday wine tasting. But it was time to say sad goodbyes again and get back on the road to Istanbul.
The route out of Lyon was another trudge through industrial estates and pretty uninteresting suburbs until i finally reached some countryside. After lunch it started to rain, then to pour, then a full blown downpour. I was plodding along the road getting blasted by spray from the traffic, drenched by the torrential rain and seeing water oozing out of my boots with every step - I was not happy! It was a mnior miracle that I made it to my host for the evening after I lost all the map and communication capabilities on my phone and had to resort to reading bus-stop maps and remembering bits of the addresses and road numbers.
But warm, dry and well fed by more lovely hosts, I was asked if I liked motorbikes? Having never even sat on one I didn't really have an answer. So when I was asked if I'd like to join a moto tour through La Jura the next day I jumped at the chance. I was kitted out in biker boots, jacket, gloves and helmet and went to bed facing the irony that the next day I would travel 450km - a distance that usually takes me about a month!
It was a brilliant experience. I rode pillion on the back of Nelson's bike to the meeting point - McDonalds car park near Lyon airport - where there were 50 or 60 different bikes and riders. One of whom had a luxurious BMW tourer complete with cushioned, heated seats, stereo and probably a roof if it rained! This became my chariot for the day and from this comfort I saw the amazing gorges, mountains, cols and villages of the Jura region. We stopped for lunch by a remote but huge mountain lake and the car park was transformed into an impressive bike park. On the way home we put in some proper bursts of speed and though my knees had seized up by the evening it was a great day.
Bike license - another addition to the to-do-after-the-walk list!
The sun returned for the next few days as I drew closer to the mountains, I stayed at my first campsite where the pool was open. A first swim for 3 months was a great feeling, the big kid in me even went on the small water slides (there was no one else around). But I found standing at the bottom of them, letting the running water pound my aching back was a great massage. Some of the paths were becoming pretty extreme too, with near vertical scrambles up the side of waterfalls and along the gorges. Everynow and then they would open up onto a little clearing of meadow; these were used by the resistance fighters in the war to have arms and supplies dropped in by parachute. It was a hard enough route to negotiate with my 18kg back pack, let alone a load of guns and being hunted down by th enemy.
After the heat of the sun in the day i was treated to some pretty spectacular thunderstorms in the evening. The thunder would bounce round the valley, resonating off the gorges and valley walls. One night, camping beneath the impressive Mont Chamechaude the volume of the thunder was super impressive. I was just about to go to sleep to the sound of torential rain on my tent when the lightening lit up the whole tent (I could see it even through my closed eyes!) and a clap of thunder litterally shook the ground and rattled my bones as it volleyed around the mountain ampitheatre. It scared me stiff in my sleeping bag - there wasn't much sleep after that as each lightning flash had me bracing for the thunder. The next morning I woke to crisp, clear sunshine!
Further along the stunning mountain road through the Chartreuse national park I passed the former distillery of the spirit itself, the monastery where they concocted the secret recipe, my first snow (at just over 1000m) and just round the corner; steam rising from the road as the sun evapourated the previous nights rain. The scenery was litterally breath taking - amazing views after huffing and puffing climbs. Nothing however, prepared me for the view from Fort St Eynard which sits at 1350m on the point of a mountain ridge above the city of Grenoble. The whole of the Isere valley sits below and it is like looking over a map, with the Chaine Bellodome mountain range on the other side. It felt pretty epic standing up there with only a few paragliders in the sky above me.
My knees felt less good after the 4 hour descent to the huge hillside fortress of Bastille, above Grenoble, and then finally down into the city. For the first time I met several othere walkers on the path, including father christmas. He was obviously on his spring break, still sporting the beard and, slightly disturbingly, some small red cycling shorts and a funny red night cap. I had my first little fall on the way down too, missing my footing and sliding down on my knee before digging my poles in to stop myself. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed though, me or the woman I slid to a halt alongside who was trying to have a discreet piss by the path side!
And then - back into civilisation and the hub bub of a city. The last one before Italy if all goes to plan!
- comments
Karen & Philip Legge Thank you for another great blog - it still sounds exciting and the bike ride and views breathtaking. Good luck for the last few days in France. Take Care Karen & Phil
John Bampini Just caught up on all your blogs, have to confess to not having logged in for a bit, all sounds so great and interesting, blisters and aches aside, I'm truly envious! Much love as always. x
mo gray Nick... it seems such a long time since you arrived at Stoke Mandeville on your bike every day with fresh pancakes for Nell! Your determination and spirit is unchanging! If it is okay for your friend's mum to be proud of you..then I am!