Over the bridge at Pont de Navoy. The river is looking cool and serene, a few ducks paddling in the quiet morning sunshine.
We turn off up the hill towards Piccareau and the road is smooth, resurfaced and no cracks, it is so much easier to travel up than usual. We admire the wildflowers growing on the verges, there is an abundance of insects enjoying the bounty.
We meander our way to Chateau Chalon, stopping to take photos of the Tour Château fort de Château-Chalon , it is stark against the blue sky and how it still stands is a mystery. Maybe there is a story to be explored here.
We enter the village through a back street, it is quiet. This time of the year it is usually heaving with tourists - you can see why. It is a beautiful village with little craft shops and art galleries and of course plenty of wine to taste and buy. But we do not indulge today.
We cycle down the zig zag hill through the vines, grapes small and green nestled under the distinctive leaves, waiting for rain so they can swell with juice ready for the press and be turned into wine.
The town at the bottom of the hill is Voiteur, bustling on a Saturday with market stalls in the main square, but peaceful today. There are some wonderfully quaint stone houses and a small church has its doors open. The stain glass windows are quite a work of art.
We continue along the road towards Baume les messieurs. The view back up towards Chateau Chalon we have seen many times, but still I stop to take a photo. Some places are just impressive.
We pass a farm and reminisce on the time we did a little tour around here and there was a flood, of puppies, across the road. They were very cute, but hard to cycle through! They were looking for their mother who was with the farmer at a small bridge not far away, and people on bikes were an added excitement to their freedom. Today the road is empty except for a few camper vans that pass by.
We stop by a fountain of cool water, under beautiful plane trees. It’s time to prepare for the late morning heat. I put my head under the water and gasp, its refreshing. We soak our neck scarves (
Buff ) - a brilliant tip gained from someone’s blog -and water drips down our backs. Lovely.
The single-track road switches back on itself as we climb out of the valley, dipping into welcomed shade and glad of our cool necks.
Martin laughs.
‘I swear those cows haven’t moved since Saturday,’ he says.
I look across and see a group of black and white as well as the usual brown and white cows lying in the shade near the road. They seem happy with their life and no wonder; this is a beautiful place.
The track is easy to cycle on and we pass a few other cyclists and walkers as it continues through the forest all the way to Chatillon where someone has set up a bar with old palettes. Sadly, it is busy, so we pass by and find a shady bench in the village, drink our water and eat some homemade flapjack instead.
Martin checks our distance and is surprised. We have already done 68 km.
We feel fine though, not tired, I do think the cold neck helps.
We have a choice of remaining on the road or taking a slightly longer but quieter route. We always choose the shorter, but not this time. I’m glad as this way has down as well as ups and we see no other vehicles.
We turn onto the main road and past the forest where a family are enjoying the forest walkway of ropes and logs in the cool shade.
We enter Doucier and stop at a small fountain. It is always cold water here. It’s not gushing out but its enough to re-wet the head and scarves before onwards and upwards. We pass a lady who is trying to hitch a ride to the car park at the top of the hill, Martin apologises for having no room on his bike, but she is in no mood for jokes and complains of the ‘unfriendly’ people who will not give her a lift. I am offended, the people here are very friendly.
We continue and I suddenly say,
‘She wasn’t wearing a mask. People are no going to stop and give a lift to a stranger.’
Not this year, not while covid 19 is still haunting our lives. For a moment, while cycling I had forgotten what a precarious world we live in, and maybe she had too.
Our village nestled in its valley comes into sight and we coast down the hill.
Home. Martin checks the distance. 93 km.
Well, I’m stunned. My knees ache, but don’t burn, and I don’t feel tired. My body continues to amaze me.
Oh, we know we’ve been cycling but there isn’t the weariness we often feel. I think it’s because we kept cool, no heat exhaustion.
We are so much fitter than 3 years ago. We both sleep well and look forward to our next cycle tour.
