Getting off the beach? Grisain back to Narbonne

First proper lie in of the trip and the two remaining med men wake up dreading the trip back in predicted 26mph south easterly wind. Flat out pushing north over the lagoon roads, we managed 7 mph. Arriving in Narbonne, we buy tarps to bag bikes up with on sunday and gorge on doughnuts and french fruit tart in the supermarket car-park, before getting a good deal from the office de Tourisme on a 2 star spot called the Hotel Du Midi.

Narbonne is a small but elegant city, full of decayed but grand buildings, adorned with bas-relief sculpture, incredible wrought iron railings and balconies. After dropping out bags off, we set off for a rare cultural trip around the hotel de ville buildings, including a great show of Algerian influenced French painting. For the first time we feel like tourists, with no pressure to complete mileage.

Worried about making fools of ourselves dismantling our bikes at the station tomorrow, we practice in the garage of the hotel, alarming the desk clerk by whacking James's pedal with a length of 3 by 3 he finds in a corner. Our front rear mudguards go in the trash, as do our front pannier racks and in Mikes case, bags. James later bins a whole packed bin bag of detritus from his bags, including his sleeping bag (£4.99 at Halfords ) and sleeping mat. Perversely, he keeps his rancid gloves.

later in the evening, after pizza in the square opposite the remains of the original Roman highway - the Via Domitia - we drop into the cathedral square to take in a bizarre open air art-jazz performance by a Belgian/Spanish/French combo called 'Basic Borg'. Entertaining and exciting at times, but super-twee, meandering and just plain irritating in others. When the Bjork-esque lead vocalist strated twittering sweetly about the beautiful bird which had just flown down to her table, Mike owned up that he couldnt take any more. Beaten by James Winston Penny in the coveted but rare 'King of the pretentious avante garde jazz appreciation' category. Jeff, you did well to escape this one.

The medmen have arrived!

So this is it, our last day of our challenge, to cycle from the English Channel to the Med in 10 days, unaided, unsupported on cycles that only go forward by human force, i.e no use of motor. Imposibel the French cry, but for the med men a challenge to be taken on.

For the last 9 mornings Dr Jeff has been washed, fed, tent down, packed and ready to go before kelly and myself have even managed to rise sleepy eyed from our two man tent that has been home for us, our cycling shorts our fellow friend the french red ant and his friend the left overs from the 3 wild boars that foraged there! But today the sleepy eyed Geordie and the pais de Gale(Welsh) set the alarm 15 min earlier than the DrJjeff and were all oiled up and sat on their steeds waiting for the lazy Med man who was feeling a little head sore after a night of drinking the magic juice from the white grape.
We left the campsite to climb around the beautiful castle of Carcassonne and into the hills where the Mediterranean beckoned with its vineyards, olive trees, kiwi vines, and dry and parched soils. The Canal de Midi took us on our way through the plane trees and then onto the old roads through the villages of France. We're soon in Trebes, where bullfighting still takes place. Almond croissants and lunch rations are purchased and then we're off for another go at the Canal du Midiheading towards Homps.
After a few miles, we're fed up with the unneven road surface and squeeze over the lock at and onto roads which take us through Lezignan and the Corbieres region. It's a parched landscape and we even see a cactus growing outside a farm gate. Jeff is in fine form and contests a couple of King of the Mountains races with James. Mike is taking it easier, just glad to get over the last few hills to Narbonne.


The villages remained quiet as they had done throughout the trip, the only sound was that of the deafening sound of the crickets beating out their warning song, that the med men were coming!

In Narbonne, we chill for a while and indulge in some celebratory pre-prepared baguettes! We decide to follow the canal out to Grisain and after passing through an area of shallow lagoons populated by flamingoes, we see the Med. James alarms some holidaymakers by leaping under one of the beach side shower hoses fully dressed. We drink three celebratory beers in a bar on the front before wading in for an end of the road waterfight. Jeff wins the King of the Med title after ducking and nearly drowning poor James.

Jeffs wife Jane and daughter Jasmine arrive to take him back to their holiday gite near Montpellier. We enjoy 'fruits de la mer' at a favourite seafood cafe (James doesn't), before we take some last photos and Jeff dismantles his trusty Panorama to fit in the car. He looks a bit crestfallen as he's driven off. This isn't surprising. We've been together for 10 days and 750 miles. Longer than some marriages.











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Narbonne

The medmen have made it to Narbonne.

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Day 10: Carcasonne to Narbonne, medmen get ugly

The medmen were overcome with the beauty of Carcasonne and had a great feast of food and wine, including: ducks gizzards, goats cheese and duck pate. James of course had the vegetarian option of cheesy pasta and a plate of salad. The French really know how to look after the veggies!!

They are now heading to the sea on their last day of cycling. The sky is blue, the wind is behind us and the crickets are rattling.

James is taking pictures of people, snakes, frogs, horses, houses, cafes, cactus, graves, Cyprus tree, kiwi fruit, the place where Van Gogh put up his easel.

We also met Alex, a young french velocetist who was traveling from Bezier to the north coast of Spain and for the first time on our journey he was the only other cyclist except for James who wasn't wearing Lycra. There he was, top off, wearing a fluorescent builders bib.Pretty cool. Not.

He looked pretty fit, but had taken two days to travel around 40 miles from the coast due to the headwind. Good news for us, until we have to come back anyway!

Later in the day things got a bit hot with my fellow med men tempers frayed, it was all going to end in tears!!

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Day 9: Toulouse to Carcasonne

On a bright and cloudy morning the medmen are working our merry way to Carcasonne. Jeff got lost in Toulouse following the sat nav. The ciccerone guide advises not to cycle under the bridges in and around Toulouse and we can see why. Lots of homeless people have set up what almost look like homes under many, complete with chests of drawers, beds and personal effects. Mike celebrated us finding the canal again with pain raisin and peche for breakfast.

The cafe in Laval, 20 miles out from Toulouse, is a typically austere affair, with a pool table and ancient space invaders machine in the corner. James determines that the owner is a former Toulouse scrum half from the photo's on the walls, and, being a keen union man, has his photo taken with the highly undemonstrative patron. Mike locates a Pharmacy and stocks up on some huge back warming pads to help with a spasm engendered by a an eight foot drop and sudden rise on the towpath out of Toulouse. Mike is also having trouble map reading, but has found a solution.

James was now in charge of the midi guide book and the map, meanwhile Mike quoted from the guide about the steeped history of the area - did you know that our cafe we are having our morning coffee was visited by Wellingtons men in 1807? Great entertainment is had when Jeff, reaching for a pan au chocolat from his back pannier manages to slide from the steeply banked towpath into the undergrowth. he disappeared so rapidly from view that Mike and James thought he'd been snagged by the sauvage cochon (wild boar) of the midi.

Not long after, we cycled past this car that had also been savaged by the boar, these are dangerous times for the Med men! As the rain settles in again, we entertain ourselves with some
singing. James is certainly the King of the Balladeers, with his robust welsh anthems. Mike chips in with a fairly depressing 'My dreams have withered and died' and Jeff is eventualy moved to contribute a line or two from 'Tambourine man'. To keep our spirits up/stop thinking about the rain, we devise a game whereby we have to elicit the best reponse fromthe numerous french boating holiday makers via the medium of song. It's hard to describe why you'd find this kind of thing entertaining, but when your underpants are wetter than they'd be in a washing machine, and your feet have taken on the texture - and colour - of tripe, you do. Even two to one, James is the hands down favourite with the natives.













After the canal gets slow, narrow and bumpy beyond Castelnaudary, we hit the main D33 road and make brilliant time into Carcassonne. With the wind behind us on flat ground we maintain speeds of up to 28 mph. A quick trip to the office de tourisme in the new town and we we're on our way to the 'Camping de la Cite' site on the south of the Aude, less than a mile from the imposing walled Cite Medievale, which Jeff explains was built by Walt Disney in 1647. It certainly looks that way.

Day 8 - Agen to Toulouse

Had a bad nights sleep with the wild boar grunting in the tent after tasting a unmarked bottle of red from the camp site owner, video to follow! woke up to the sound of heavy rain which stayed with us till lunch time. Met this bloke in picture from the local police who asked Mike for his papers!

Mike was in good form today, but thinking about his cousin Mark, who died suddenly in Liverpool last week and whose funeral takes place today. He took over the map reading duties and didn't get lost once, mind you we were on the canal all day. Did the usual med men racing on the canal, first to the bridge, lock, deer, etc. We all have our own strategies. Mike favours the longer sustained burn, James the quick sprint and Jeff getting a sneaky head start before declaring a race! Rules have been introduced to make sure the contest is legal only when called from behind and agreed by at least one of the others. We all received winning cake as prizes - provided by Mike after his failure to secure bread or a pain au raisin in Valance.

Three grand cafe au laits for three wet medmen at our morning stop in Valance. We are going to Toulouse today.

Good, if wet days riding today, which we weren't really expecting this far down. We entertain ourselves with songs, a bit of racing and banter. James takes the chance to act the innkeeper in a cafe section of a huge canalside street mock up, to be used in the towns carnival festivities next week. Video clip to follow....





























We encountered this plastic wrapped lady on the Canal du Garonne aquaduct near Moissac.
James enjoyed throwing his last piece of fruitcake into the water at this point.. as an offering to
the ancient water gods. It must have worked as it stopped raining about two hours later.

James is pictured above, arriving on the outskirts of sunny Toulouse, where we fetched up at a budget hotel, desperate to dry some of our clothes, which were by now on the 'high' side. After we'd used up every available door top and rail in the tiny room, we left for dinner. The aroma which met our return was manly, damp and dire. James's gloves alone- which he'd not worn once, but had slowly festered in his pannier bag - were enough to make you gag.

Agen

Finally made it to canal du midi, after long 75 mile day, starting and ending in rain.

James now has a new chain, sprocket and crank and intends to regain his crown as king of mountains - except there are no hills on the canal. So let's see ...


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