Before leaving Mende I take a look at the cathedral. Mende was the capital of the region and is a large town with a population of just over 12,000 and for the route I am on that is bright lights, big city stuff. It is 9am and chilly though as Mende sits at an altitude of 700m at the foot of mountains that shouldn't be surprising. If some regions favour circular and some square in their church architecture look closely and you'll see they have done a bit of both here to good effect.
The cathedral reminds me that it is ascension day which for France means some supermarkets closing. There are more Cols today but with modest climbing and starting out from an altitude of 700m can't hurt.
Despite my foolishness and general complaining, yesterday turned out well, I recovered and enjoyed climbing the modest if steep Col and the hotel I was forced into was city centre with an excellent cyclist's breakfast, a room for the bike (the breakfast room) and they even leapt to my assistance to fill the two bidons I carry. Setting off my legs scream out with the pain of it all until they realise the pedalling isn't going to stop and after 3 minutes they settle down to their usual calm and uncomplaining rotations.
I have been on busy and fast roads entering and leaving Mende and it reminded me of the vulnerabilities of a cycle tour. The traffic for one, but you are also exposed to the weather all day which is magnified on ascents and descents, headwinds that stop you dead and tailwinds that push you uphill effortlessly. Though not everyone will support my orange cycling top to match the bike this one piece of my costume has the ability to protect me from the elements and make me more visible to vehicles. The fact that everyone asks if this tall orange clad individual is Dutch is not the point.
Mountain scenery is plentiful today though tricky capturing it. The French love touring in their campers and I wait to catch one.
It is 11am, I have climbed to 920m (from 700m) and with no plans for off-road adventures I stop for a brew and to absorb the scenery. There are I think two Cols (passes) today but we will get to them later.
Ah! Worryingly I managed to pass the Col de la Tourette without realising it but on entering Bagnols-les-Bains I see the Col des Tribes is ahead of me and is open. This Col sits at 1,132m so hopefully I'll notice it.
The roads here are fantastic for anyone on a bike whether motor or pedal powered and the eateries cater for the passing trade; lots of bikers.
As I climb on these gentle slopes I notice that like the hair on the biker's heads, the river Lot is thining.
I have still been following the river Lot tracing it to its source on the Col du Tribes but after a full 200 km I will leave it behind as I soon enter the Cevennes-Ardeche and I worry again about the naming of parts and look here for reassurance https://www.cevennes-ardeche.com/
It is maybe no accident that I used the expression "the naming of parts". Because France was occupied their remembrance is even more visible than in the UK and "the naming of parts" is an old favourite of mine as it recounts the parts of a deadly gun but puts it in an ordinary setting; an alternative but compelling take on war poetry which is a genre I generally avoid. The author is Henry Reed and not Roy Campbell as I had first thought.
Back in Bagnols-les-Bains I sit and read the guidebook whilst enjoying a Far Breton and make a plan. I say enjoy, like some ales this Far Breton hasn't travelled well and is overly set. Sorry, the plan, I'll put both lights on the bike as there is a tunnel ahead and I will put on every bit of spare kit I have to prevent hyperthermia and as a Ventoux test. This isn't much just another t-shirt, a short sleeved shirt and an extra pair of socks. After a chilly Col I will have to endure a cooling 25 km descent as this is mountain country and any warm air you might associate with the south of France doesn't even try to to dislodge the cold. There are altitude signs all the way up, and down.
And occasional houses and hamlets.
Those clouds look ominous though in the end I made it to my pre-booked Gite d'étape before a few raindrops fell.
I am following the Lot closely now and can hear its bubbling descent. I had imagined retracing my walking steps of the camino but it has been quite a different perspective and experience on a bike. The route is different and when I have crossed paths with pilgrims I knew I wasn't currently part of their unique tribe. The Lot is now a small stream hardly worth the signage but we all know its significance as it swells downstream and I take a moment to say goodbye.
I mentioned my time-based half way point and my half way point in distance some days ago and now I reach another milestone. If the Lot flows to the Atlantic then from now on everything flows into the Mediterranean.
This milestone is of course the Col des Tribes which sits on that partition line of water flow into the two seas.
Contrary to my predictions it feels positively balmy up here among the meadows and I set off on a long glorious decent. I make a rough plan to decend in one hit so no photos so you will have to imagine 25 km of amazing and ever changing mountain scenery including a Château flashing by. The altitude signs tick by with ever decreasing numbers like an airplane coming in to land. I will avoid further hackneyed attempts at describing the decent. If you have ever free-wheeled down a 250m hill then imagine doing that one hundred times over. You do have to rotate the cranks in a middle section to keep some speed and there is a short uphill towards the end. Concentration is required all the way as you navigate gentle corners. My own concentration drifted on the final kilometer into Villefort as I pondered why two cyclists coming up the other way seemed to be struggling; then whoosh, my bike took off hurtling downhill at a rate of knots on the "Oh flippin 'eck" end of the acceleration scale. Okay, I stole this photo of the Château du Champ.
For anyone interested in my whereabouts Montpellier lies to the south, Avignon sits south east with Villefort being the third corner of the triangle, equilateral of course and each 110 km in length.
Day 19 and I stink, at least my clothes do. I occasionally get to launder base layers but everything else gets worn day in day out (some overnight too) and it's all getting a bit smelly. It is cold so I can't do laundry and put on damp clothes which I could do earlier in the tour; some socks do get a clean tonight but only because they pose a health hazard. Sault (day 23) is a laundry opportunity but after that I arrive in Nice on day 30 where I have a date with some clean clothes so I dare say I will survive until then.
