Everything was dry when I woke up this morning. That's the good news. The not-so-good news is that its raining to the west, and the forcast is for it to reach here by midmorning. I don't mind riding in the rain, but I don't like descending down mountains on rain slick roads, especially with a fully loaded bike. And the news from home is not great, either. Tim the cat has injured himself yet again (I really wish he'd learn not to fight), and Sue's having problems with her asthma as well as her blood pressure. Im going to try to get home as quickly as possible. The trains are still on strike, so I may be riding all the way. Given how much time it took me to get here, I need to start now if I'm going to make it before my window of vacation time closes and I need to be home for appointments, etc. So I've set my sights on Avignon, a route I've done before.

The ride is relatively easy for the first 50 kilometeres, but when I get to Uzes, the road into town is steep, and the traffic heavy. It taks me a while to find the route onward, as the streets I used to know have been made one-way, and the signs have not all been changed. But I finally get it right, and after a bit I'm on my way again.At the 60 km mark, I have to go up again, and at the 70 km mark as well. That's where my nose suddenly starts to run, and its dripping red all over my handlebar bag. I haven't had a nosebleed since adolescence, so this is someting of a surprise. I dig out some tissues from my panniers and stuff a wad up the offending nostril, hoping that will hold it until I get to Avignon.

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But the road soon goes down through the genet, and I find myself in the outskirts of Avignon. Getting across the Rhone is not easy, but after a couple of false starts, I manage to find the way. A stop at the railway station confirms that there will be no trains today, and more, none tomorrow either. I ge to the tourist office, and they help me find a room in the city at the Hotel St. Roch. Its a medieval building, and comfortable enough. I get a quick shower, and go out for some very late lunch.

By the time my "lunch" is finished, its almost time for supper, so I start to look at menus to see if anything strikes me. I finnally settle on a small place that's not too touristy, and have a pork filet. Frankly, I've had better, but I need the fuel. I go back to the hotel, and fall asleep to Iceland playing Portugal (or was it some other match? I really can't remember).