Like Tristram Shandy, I am perpetually behind. This post is about yesterday's events (14th August). It all started promisingly enough. I had a bit more of a lie-in than I had intended so I did not get going on my bike until almost 10 am, which is not optimal, given the heat. I went along the little country road just across the highway from Malaucene to Beaumont du Ventoux (D153 for those who are obsessed by such things. Then I took the road to the hamlet of Veau, which has very little traffic and good pavement, but which is uphill for about 17km until you get to the bridge over the Ouveze river where there is an excellent picnic spot. From there I carried on to Mollans sur Ouveze and then towards Mirabel les Baronnies, which involves going through both Faucon and Puymeras. There is a bike lane much of the way and a pleasing mix of downhill and climbing. Between Puymeras and Mirabel the first unfortunate thing happened: I had a flat tire (rear). Once again it was a pain to pry that tire off the rim but I managed and replaced the tube and was just at the point of pumping the tire up when a very nice older man on a Kuota Kebel rode up to see if I needed assistance. He had started the day in Marseille and had clocked 125km by 11:15, but his destination was in sight as he was meeting his daughter and grandchildren (from Toronto) in Valreas.
After the flat I continued on my way and turned from Mirabel towards Villedieu. The road was spectacular and largely downhill, and then the town was beautiful, with a large water fountain (potable) in the town square and two or three restaurants with tables surrounding it. I stopped at Maison Bleu which serves tartines, pasta, and pizza primarily and is recommended in one of the Patricia Wells' books. I started by ordering a blanche beer to assist with my decision making and drank it as I scanned the menu. Suddenly I realized to my horror that I was without money and thought that I had dropped my little cycling wallet from my jersey pocket when I fixed the flat. I had resurrected a rather elderly sleeveless jersey with very insecure and saggy pockets simply because I did not want a farmer tan when I went to Maison Pic for dinner. The pockets were so saggy that I had to haul them up every time I tried to sit down after standing up to pedal so that I could avoid sitting on them. I believe they hung down to my mid-thigh. It was quite an eyesore, and I had thought as I started out in the morning that I was glad Glenn was not present to witness my outfit and shriek in despair. Now, of course (at lunch I mean), I was really deploring both my vanity (the tan) and cheapness (why did I not buy a new jersey?). I explained my dilemma to the server, who directed me to "le patron". That lovely lovely gentleman simply told me to order and eat whatever wanted and come back later to pay. I promptly made a reservation for the four of us (Rosanna, me, Crystal and Sandra) for Sunday evening. The lunch itself was delicious, a tartine of eggplant, sundried tomatoes, pesto and a bit of tapenade served with mache salad. I was quite full with both the lunch and the milk of human kindness when I set off for home, about 19km away. That trip was a mix of uphill and downhill but by now it was extremely hot, and by the time I reached the last 3km stretch from Malaucene to Beaumont du Ventoux I was getting that awful headachey, feverish feeling that is a warning that heat stroke is a possibility. My face was as red as the Campari I am now drinking when I got in the house (2:45 pm). But it was a smiling red face, because there on the kitchen table was my cycling wallet (and my Visa card which I neglected earlier to mention was in it).
You might think a person deserved a serious sit down and alcoholic pick-me-up after all that excitement. But no. I had to get in the car and drive to the Marseille airport to pick up Rosanna. There was an unexpected traffic diversion (by the gendarmerie) en route and I was somewhat anxious that I would get turned around, but all went well and I arrived at the airport early. Then I spent a long time queuing for the free parking lot, which was filled by the car before me in line! Once she arrived and after she spent a long time waiting for her luggage (aka the bike) I promptly marched us off to the car rental place to have her added as a driver. She drove home, but managed to take a much more circuitous route than I had intended. Still, we had enough energy to stay up until midnight drinking two bottles of rose and eating frittata and green beans and salad and olives and cheese.
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