Despite hitting the tent early last night due to the rain I slept until 8am this morning which I interpret as a sign of fatigue and I make a plan for a slow and easy day. I still have to get to the same location each night to avoid cancelation fees and building up a backlog of mileage to do, but will take plenty of rests starting with a roll down the hill to a bakery with seating for what turns into a double breakfast. I watch the tour buses go by and the groups of tourists being led around this tourist town and from my viewpoint I admire the caves set up high.
Though few caves around here have cafés attached you can make out a few of the troglodyte's homes high in the cliff. If you are tracking my progress I have moved from the Perigord Vert (green) to the Perigord Noir (black) which is beautiful though with its cliffs and troglodytes is less 'sexy' than the Perigord Vert. Sorry Nigella.
For some reason I haven't been stressing or even thinking much about Mont Ventoux but that must surely start to change. It is day 13 and my attempt at climbing Mont Ventoux happens on day 23, or day 24 if the weather pushes it back. With fatigue setting in and Ventoux getting closer I feel in need of a protector or a guardian angel which reminds me of a simple two-liner.
Cecilia never went to school
Without her gladiator
(Christina Rossetti, age 5)
If you want a poem to learn by rote then this two-liner by a very young Christina Rossetti would be my recommendation though Rossetti is better known for her fantasy poem "Goblin Market" which is said to have inspired Alice in Wonderland. Christina Rossetti (1830-94) is my favourite poet and I'd like to say I once discarded an old secondhand anthology of Victorian romantic poetry because it failed to include anything by Rossetti, but that would be untrue. I actually managed to buy the same book twice (with a suitable interval of forgetfulness) and discarded both copies in disgust at the bias towards male poets in general and the omission of Rossetti specifically. So there.
I tend not to have favourites and am generally against throwing away books of any merit so this is all pretty strong stuff for me.
I hope I don't buy the same book again! And putting Rossetti aside I'll try and say something more about Mont Ventoux, but not today.
The first 15-miles involve long gradual ascents and similar descents. Uphill I usually have a truck behind me pushing me on until I find a safe place to pull over. Downhill I know I should freewheel and save my legs but that is against the cyclist's code so I move up the gears and enjoy the ride. Today as I descend at speed into Sarlat I approach a roundabout and there is a filter for cars coming towards me to cross over in front. A truck takes the filter but then decides he doesn't want that turning and with only me in the way comes up my lane towards me! I swerve as far right as the curb allows and am left unscathed.
Earlier on in my journal I said I was 'no mathemetician' but that's not strictly true. At the start of today's ride out of Les Eyzies my satnav said to take the fourth exit at a roundabout that only had three exits. Quick as a flash I moved (or abstrated) this real world problem into the realm of mathematics. The forth exit is the number 4. Three exits on a roundabout that goes round and round indefinitely suggests modulus 3. 4 modulus 3 is 1. So I take the first exit. Simples. I later met a cyclist who had met with the same conundrum and had gone round and round until a 'fourth' exit presented itself. I had done one roundabout circuit less so that is 1 point to maths students the world over. I mention this mainly as an example (admittedly ridiculous) of what maths is, the taking of a problem and abstracting it to maths, solving it, then mapping back into the real world. You probably know modulus maths as the remainder when you divide integers and the word modulus as possibly modulo or mod. I feel rather brave as there is a maths teacher somewhere grading my work.
Some real world problems just need breeze, sunshine and an absence of shame. I am in a smart park in swanky Sarlat trying to dry my socks. I could pull on some dry socks but they would be immediately wet.
It's a sunshine and showers kind of day and today for the first time I get to follow a greenway for part of the second half of the day. At the trailhead there is a bike hire and repair centre so I pause and consider any bike issues I may want looking at but decide the bike is OK forgetting that my tyres could do with some manly track pump inflation.
It's good to be on a greenway and I quickly feel myself relax. I am rolling along an old railway embankment which reminds me heavily of my Brittany tour.
Tomorrow I will climb out of the Dordogne valley to Rocamadour on what the guidebook says is the first real climbing of the tour. My guides do of course have a different perspective than I do as they glide along with lightweight road bikes adorned with nothing but a single bidon and a mobile phone in case they need to call for a snack or perhaps a bikini from their support vehicle for that essential swim in the river to cool off. I don't resent them, honestly. Talking of water and leaving the Dordogne this is the actual river. Naturally, many regions are named after their principal river as rivers sit in valleys and mankind chooses valleys for their settlements; I guess.
Spot the Châteaux nestled half way up the hill? It is there as is the ever present threat of rain. Blue skies and black thunder clouds are the order of the month of May.
Onwards I travel following the broad river Dordogne. I am generally avoiding the current official department and region names in favour of what the locals view as their pays, their country. But here is an official sign.
A mere 50m later this sign also tells me I have left the Dordogne but in this case for the Lot. In fact for the next mile or so the Dordogne/Lot boundary runs up the middle of the river Dordogne and I don't think I get to the Lot as the locals know it until tomorrow.
I keep my head up enough to spy this beautiful Châteaux.
I am of course noticing changes and one is that the lilac and wisteria so prevalent in gardens in Brittany and the Loire are now absent. What is growing in abundance here are walnuts which are farmed.
My planned pasta supper is postponed due to bad weather. This is a rather British campsite and the snack bar is playing Riders On The Storm as the rain pounds on the roof. The campsite is part of the Flower Campings chain and even though it is 17.61 euros there is a pool and eating facilities if the weather doesn't allow al fresco dining. Luckily the staff are always helpful and knowing navigating sites is hard happily scribble on the map and direct me to a pitch though at this time of year it is generally any pitch "Comme vous voulez!"
