Stage 8 Perigueux to Bergerac
33 miles
A full seven days of glorious cycling behind us and after a
relaxed evening meal al Fresco in a little square in the heart of the town the
evening before, a short ‘lactic purge’ of 30 odd miles beckoned to keep the
working parts moving.
Referring back to our evening meal, we had wandered about
half a mile or so from the hotel feeling relatively cool in the 24C still
evening air. A friendly and relaxed atmosphere prevailed with the locals
venturing out to enjoy an evening socialising, many of the elegant woman
looking particularly chique in their summery floral dresses and flat shoes. We
entered a small square adorned with restaurants and bars, with the vibrant hum
of conversations and laughter as the families and friends enjoyed each other’s
company over a glass of wine and good food. A ginger cat lay on a wall glaring
rather aggressively at passers by, daring them to approach, whilst another grey
one wandered about with confident indifference.
We examined all of the tempting menus, but sense prevailed
and we settled for a cheapy ‘FozTour’ special in the local creperie. We settled
outside the old stone and timber framed building with swifts darting above us
in the azure sky, scooping up insects in flight. Steve enjoyed a light
omelette, the others salads and a main from the set menu.
The sun god took a day off today and when we set off from
the hotel, the skies were overcast and the thermometer was only reading about
15C. Would the weather hold for our short spin to Bergerac? As we left the
ancient town of Perigueux, we took advantage of a few photo opportunities,
capturing a cathedral as well as an odd looking topsy- turvy building on the
banks of the River Isle.
We crossed the river
and almost immediately commenced a long climb out of the town. The road then
dipped down to a roundabout where we peeled off to our right and on to quieter
roads. Before long we settled into the rhythm of a long assent that took us
parallel to the A89. To our right on the flat section beforehand stretching
into the distance were statuesque lines of power pylons which bore an uncanny
resemblance to Crash Bandicoot (any younger readers out there will know what I
am referring to).
As the road climbed, steep meadows fell away to our right
over a rolling countryside. Shoulder high reflective markers stood like
soldiers to attention every 15metres or so marking the edge of the road that
quickly fell away to our right. Some of the fields were left to pasture, while
others were ploughed and exposed, revealing a chalky white and stony soil. The
air seemed thicker in the cool air, laden with moisture. Rain beckoned but
still held off. Our route continued over a rolling and ever changing landscape.
Pastures and meadows with red tiled farm houses nestled amongst trees gave way
to thicker vegetation that closed in on either side, the canopies meeting above
us creating a cool and peaceful tunnel to meander through.
We entered the small village of Manzac sur Verne, stopping
briefly to look at the public weigh bridge or ‘Poids Public’.
We continued on as we had a rendezvous with Steve planned in the nearby village of Villamblard. Undulating roads continued, with grazing vaches and moutons (with lots of baby moutons) viewing us with blank curiosity as we rolled on by. We passed a white stone house to our right, the light green painted shutters left bleached and peeling by the sun. One half of the wall was covered by a large rose bush, the branches heavy and laden with light flamingo bloom, offset by the deeper red of tiled roof above.
More climbing gave way to an absolutely glorious descent
through gently twisting roads. Thick tree lines gave way to bocage like fields,
some dotted with rolls of hay, a lighter green that the fields they had not
long been harvested from. Unique white chevrons snaked down the centre of the
dark grey road, guiding and directing us through the sweeping glory of the
Dordogne. Our senses were bombarded by the surrounding countryside. Could
cycling ever be better than this? The truth is this is the question we have
been asking ourselves each and every day. Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.
We entered Villamblard almost reluctantly, not wanting the
previous miles to end. A small roundabout on entering the village on the D4
sees a quaint church immediately to the right and the Cafe de la Place across
the roundabout to the left. True to form, Steve had arrived ahead of us and
waiting outside the cafe was the van. Ordinarily Steve would have his trusty
Canon in hand (camera that is) taking pictures of us as we approached the stop.
But not on this occasion. Where could he be? As we unclipped from our pedals,
the noise obviously alerted Steve, who quickly beetled out of the cafe with a
guilty look on his face. ‘What’s occurring Steve’ we all enquired. ‘Just popped
in for a quick coffee’ he replied sheepishly. ‘I bet. Don’t suppose you were
tempted by any pastries then’ we teased. He obviously denied this, but there
did appear to be crumb evidence down the front of his shirt. J.
Just before we entered Villamblard the precipitation did
commence forcing some of us to don jackets. A good excuse to join Steve for a
Cafe au lait and chocolat chaud. Suitably refreshed and with the drizzle
stopping, we ventured out to look at the church. Beautiful stained glass windows
revealed their glory on our entering. Surprisingly one depicted St. George
slaying the dragon. Made us all feel at home. Matt had to say a few Hail Mary’s
after inadvertently clattering into one of the pews causing a reflex response
that almost led to an expletive escaping. Needless to say this misdemeanour
meant that it was bound to start raining again.
We donned our Great Ormond Street T shirts for a photo
opportunity on the roundabout in front of the church. To our surprise we were
just about to pack up the van when we were approached by a French registered
car. More surprisingly a delightful lady with a lilting Irish accent enquired
if we were collecting for Great Ormond Street. When this was confirmed she
thrust a note in our hands. Absolutely fantastic. Examples of such generosity
make every mile worth it. If you feel so inclined, please feel free to follow
suit. A team of four middle aged men (one of whom is very handsome – no prizes
for guessing who) are now 600 plus into a gruelling ride. We have five really
tough days ahead. Give us another boost and keep donating. Many thanks to Joan and Eamonn Ginty who made
our day.
We clipped back into our pedals and set off for the final
short leg. Pete decided to test his Steven Spielberg directing capabilities
with his video camera. Giving firm instructions that we were to wait whilst he
rode ahead to set up the camera and on command we were to cycle towards him.
Ensuring we all understood, off he set with determination. He stopped about
500m up the road. Therein followed a long wait. Peter looked to the heavens –
he looked left and right. He disappeared into the bushes. He reappeared. He
fiddled about with his carrier bag on his bike. Next he was down on all fours,
his lycra clad bottom pointing to the heavens as if in prayer. Matt and I
looked at each other quizzically. ‘What the hell is he up to?’ Eventually Pete
was back on his feet, gesturing extravagantly for the ‘take’ to proceed. Off we
set. What should we do? How about two abreast, no hands? Sounded like a good
idea, but the road was dodgy. Let’s bin that idea and go for a safe sprint.
The result is as shown. Marks out of 10 for Pete’s directing
debut. Point of note he had to use his back up camera. Transpires all the
histrionics were brought about by a flat battery in his camcorder – or so he
says.
Video, click on picture
We had just entered Bergerac when the heavens opened so we
decided to seek shelter outside a local hardware store. We were clearly bored
as we took a picture of Pete’s cycling top. Well it was meant to be a picture,
buy initially ended up being a video. I am sure Pete is a frustrated film
director. Anyway today’s question from the below photo and video clip is simply
this ‘Is it?’
Pickwick Bicycle Club, Oldest bicycle club in the world?
Video, click on picture
Video, click on picture
Ride stats
Perigueux to Bergerac 33 miles
Ave speed 13 mph
Top speed 35.6 mph
Ride time 2 hours 34 minutes
Total miles 617
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