Monday 17th May
Olargues to Albine
By the time we had fought our way out of the village it was almost midday, the cycle route wasn’t signposted and the glib responses we received from the locals took into account more than a little ‘local knowledge’. Anyway eventually we were off bowling along up a modest incline (as fortunately is the way of disused railway lines) and through some of the prettiest countryside we have encountered so far.
Looking back to Olargues from the cycle path.
After a couple of miles the route appeared to cross the main road so we dithered for a while and then consulted a fisherman who sent us back in the direction we had come from (which we knew was wrong) but he followed us in his car to make certain we did what he said (why are we so polite, we should have told him he was bonkers and kept going).
Anyway back on the route again we encountered a short tunnel
The route along the railway line is a fine gravel surface which is quite comfortable to ride on in terms of it’s smooth surface (apart from where the horses have been) but it is quite wearing on the legs as there is no opportunity to free wheel. We stopped for an exceedingly good omelette with Roquefort (we are near the cheese area) to keep our strength up.
St Pons de Thomieres starting to be quite rural in fact the first cows we've seen since leaving the Med.
After what felt like an age of cycling through trees we burst out into the sunshine and made a mental note to remember this sight when we were approaching St Malo. Also probably the last olive trees we'll see.
The wind was still very much in our faces, however we were slightly sheltered by the high banks, woods and orchards a lot of the time.
We saw our first ripe cherries.
Towards the end of the cycle route you go under the Col de la Fenille, the highest point of all the land around - and it felt like it. We had a serious slog upwards for several miles until entering a tunnel which was 830 mtrs long. The French are wonderfully organised and just when we were worrying about lights on the bikes, they solved the problem. The tunnel magically lights up as you travel through it.
The very long tunnel!
Olargues to Albine
By the time we had fought our way out of the village it was almost midday, the cycle route wasn’t signposted and the glib responses we received from the locals took into account more than a little ‘local knowledge’. Anyway eventually we were off bowling along up a modest incline (as fortunately is the way of disused railway lines) and through some of the prettiest countryside we have encountered so far.
Looking back to Olargues from the cycle path.
After a couple of miles the route appeared to cross the main road so we dithered for a while and then consulted a fisherman who sent us back in the direction we had come from (which we knew was wrong) but he followed us in his car to make certain we did what he said (why are we so polite, we should have told him he was bonkers and kept going).
Anyway back on the route again we encountered a short tunnel
The route along the railway line is a fine gravel surface which is quite comfortable to ride on in terms of it’s smooth surface (apart from where the horses have been) but it is quite wearing on the legs as there is no opportunity to free wheel. We stopped for an exceedingly good omelette with Roquefort (we are near the cheese area) to keep our strength up.
St Pons de Thomieres starting to be quite rural in fact the first cows we've seen since leaving the Med.
After what felt like an age of cycling through trees we burst out into the sunshine and made a mental note to remember this sight when we were approaching St Malo. Also probably the last olive trees we'll see.The wind was still very much in our faces, however we were slightly sheltered by the high banks, woods and orchards a lot of the time.
We saw our first ripe cherries.
Towards the end of the cycle route you go under the Col de la Fenille, the highest point of all the land around - and it felt like it. We had a serious slog upwards for several miles until entering a tunnel which was 830 mtrs long. The French are wonderfully organised and just when we were worrying about lights on the bikes, they solved the problem. The tunnel magically lights up as you travel through it.
The very long tunnel!
This is serious horse country here and it must be a wonderful area for riding. There are miles of tracks and forests to follow, and there were also a lot of hoof prints through the tunnels. What sensible horses these must be, ours would have made a real fuss about going in to it as it was very cold with a great echo, and lots of dripping water. Curiously no sign of any bats. There is total silence up here other than birdsong which is bliss and when the voie verte ran out we had a rude awakening as we were on the edge of the National road.
Slightly disappointed that they had just dumped us here we moved onto the main highway. 3k’s along the road and a lot of buses and heavy lorries passing perilously close by, a man going the other way pulls into the middle of the road, winds down his window and shouts – for God’s sake get off the Route Nationale - use the Voie Verte - which is how we discovered that it hadn’t ended but goes all the way on to Mazamet. It was very kind of him as he had put himself in a certain amount of danger just by stopping there.
Anyway we couldn’t get off because within a half mile or so we would find our B and B. This was a lovely old village house now run by a fellow Ulster woman. From the minute we arrived and were offered a cup of tea we had a very jolly evening with lots of Ulster craique. (And Alec adds – my goodness these Ulsterwomen can talk!)
Slightly disappointed that they had just dumped us here we moved onto the main highway. 3k’s along the road and a lot of buses and heavy lorries passing perilously close by, a man going the other way pulls into the middle of the road, winds down his window and shouts – for God’s sake get off the Route Nationale - use the Voie Verte - which is how we discovered that it hadn’t ended but goes all the way on to Mazamet. It was very kind of him as he had put himself in a certain amount of danger just by stopping there.
Anyway we couldn’t get off because within a half mile or so we would find our B and B. This was a lovely old village house now run by a fellow Ulster woman. From the minute we arrived and were offered a cup of tea we had a very jolly evening with lots of Ulster craique. (And Alec adds – my goodness these Ulsterwomen can talk!)
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