To Gruissan: And to the sea

October 10, 2017

So here's our plan. We have ten riding days left, ending in Sete. They all follow the same pattern: five destinations, and five two night stands. An easy pattern to remember: move on, layover ride; repeat. Today, we're moving on: To Gruissan. Tomorrow, we'll take a loop ride. Got it? Good. Let's move out.

I've gotten behind. Illness will do that. Therefore, a short report.

We were up late, an so are slow to leave the room. We had a relaxed breakfast at our hotel, and then left for Gruissan about 11. Retrieving our bikes, we discover I have a flat tire, which is particularly odd since Rachael and I were just ten minutes ago discussing our tube situation and whether we'd need a spare. All our old ones leak now, and the two new ones have presta valves, and won't really work with our rims because of the stem diameter. If we flatten, we fix it.

So we fix it. First though I pump it up enough to get us outside the walls, and I repair it there in what is surely my lifetime second best repair venue (second only to my epic blowout in Zion National Park; I'm confident that one will own the lifetime best award). The setting is marred a tad by some goddamn fool flying a photo drone above Carcassonne's unsurpassable walls. A sacrilege.

It's our first 'real' ride since my illness, and I felt it. The ride starts slowly, with about ten frustrating-to-navigate miles that waver between the Aude and the Canal du Midi; and between minor highway, maintenance/canal-side road, canal cycle path, and just path. It's slow going, made bearable by virtue of the unending variation in color, light, and scenic beauty.

At two PM we are only 10 miles closer to our destination (a wasted two mile detour onto a dead end didn't help). About the time that we're getting seriously anxious about getting in Gruissan in time for dinner, we break out of all this onto what are fine riding roads for most of the rest of the way.

We break for lunch at a beautiful spot beside the Canal du Midi. I flatten again. As it turns out, this region of France is a hotbed of thorns. We'll have to take more care when we leave the pavement, and treat it with the sort of respect we give the American southwest.

We finally roll in about quarter to seven, clean up and hustle off for a meal. The restaurants are nearly vacant, even though Gruissan is quite lovely. We're in the French Riviera, but with no crowds. Awesome.

Our restaurant has a great house cat, with lovely, unique facial markings. Rachael loves him, and he loves us because small bits of dinner somehow keep slipping to the table. He wastes my fork by reaching up to my lap and nipping at it when I'm unalert.

It's cool here! I'm glad we're on the coast, not high up in the Cevennes as we had planned. Good thing I got sick, to protect us from ourselves.

We go to bed. I wake up an hour later, and the moon has arisen above the marina, and a few stars are out.

All in all, not a bad one. We'll take nine more, s’il vous plait.