On the ride across the US, we took our bikes into our hotel rooms at night to clean them and to keep them secure. Many of the hotels on this trip will not allow bikes in the guest rooms. They offer a shed (outside) to store your bike or perhaps a meeting room that is near the front desk. When we arrived at the small resort last night (and the only one in the vicinity) the young man at the desk said we had to take our bikes to the back of the hotel. We followed him around to the back, and he motioned that we could rest them against the fence, next to a piles of trash and various discarded items that had not been touched for a long time, as evidenced by the tall weeds growing around them. We said, “No, we can’t leave them outside. How about in that shed?” pointing to a rusted, little tin shed nearby. He agreed, and when he opened the door, I could see we were not the first riders to arrive that evening. I guessed there was nearly $70,000 worth of bicycles in that little shed. It gave me comfort knowing that my bike would be with such good company that night.
I woke to the sound of rain and the forecast was for rain the entire day. The hotel did not serve breakfast until 8:00, causing us to start later than we usually do. As we prepared to set off, Gene discovered he had a flat, so it was nearly 9:30 by the time we started. The roads were wet, the rain continued, we had a late start and we had 70+ miles to ride. I was grumpy. We decided to ride at a leisurely pace to take care on the wet pavement, and as it turned out, most of the day was on cycleways, which doesn’t allow for riding as fast anyway. The five of us rode together the entire day. It was great fun. My bad mood quickly changed.
We continued south along the border of France, riding through the heavily wooded region. The forests of tall pine trees lined both sides of the road, and I thought I could very well be in northern Michigan, until we came upon the typical white stucco home with red tile roof, bringing me back to southern France. It was a holiday week end and every village we traveled through had art shows, food stands, and people everywhere. It reminded me of Petoskey or Traverse City on July 4 weekend. At mile 54 we stopped in a small village and had lunch at a boulangerie. The rain had stopped and we sat outside at picnic tables to eat. As we were preparing to leave, I let out a scream. A huge slug had attached to my shoe. I turned out to be the entertainment for the other customers having lunch there.
The closer we got to Biarritz, which is a fairly large city, the heavier the traffic became. We were on a cycling path until we got into town where we stopped for photos on the bridge. The last five miles I would have been biting my nails had my hands not been clenched to the handlebars: rush hour traffic on big hills in a downpour. Quite a finish. I hope to get out to see the city tomorrow because I was too focused on the road to take in much of its beauty today. Biarritz is in the southernmost tip of western France nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and the Pyrenees. Our next riding day we will reach Spain, but tomorrow is rest day and I am happy for that. This is an amazing adventure, but after 10 straight days of riding, I am ready for a break and I need to do laundry!
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