Bike Town and A Ride to Erkrath

It was a beautiful Spring day today and my colleague Henri picked me up at 9:30 for the one hour's drive to Bocholt and the biggest bike store around. Henri is interested in starting to cycle more seriously and I offered to loan him one of my classic steel bikes to see how he like riding a lightweight bicycle but I suggested that he get a set of clipless pedals and shoes, as well as the usual useful things (particularly a helmet).

Bocholt, located on the Aa River (seriously) is about 100 kms north of Düsseldorf, very close to the Dutch border. Rose Versand, Germany's largest retailer of bicycle equipment, was founded in the town in 1907 and now has 250 employees and a massive mail-order operation. The gigantic 2011 catalogue is 936 pages in size and is printed in German and in English.

As we walked to the store entrance, we passed a vending machine selling Continental inner tubes, which is a great idea if you need a tube and the store is closed. We passed a display of the impressive trailer hitch bike racks, complete with full-sized auto turn signals, that the Germans like so much, and found ourselves entering the nirvana that is Bike Town.

Bike Town is the retail store next to the main office and is three storeys of bikes and accessories, covering 6,000 m² and offering 20,000 items. It has a bike repair shop and a cafe so you could spend a great deal of time there, although Henri and I chose not to ride through the place like this cyclist:



After getting Shimano SPD pedals and matching shoes and cleats, a helmet, gloves, a repair kit and minipump and several other things, Henri was set. I bought an extra SpeedLever (the finest tool ever conceived) and one more storage rack so that I could rearrange the bicycles in my garage. We both took away catalogues and BDR guides to organized rides in 2011 in Germany.

After a nice lunch in Bocholt that involved chanterelle mushrooms, we returned to Düsseldorf and I replaced the Campagnolo pedals, with their toeclips and straps, with the SPD pedals on the Chesini. I added the pump to the frame, as well as the new tool kit and inflated the tires. Henri in the meantime went home for his shorts and jersey and soon joined me. A few minutes of adjusting brought the seat to the right height and now he was set to ride a Real Bicycle.

First lesson was to send him up and down the street learning to click in and out of the clipless pedals. After some initial difficulty getting the hang of this, he quickly found the correct position and was soon getting in and out like a pro. I showed him that we don't ride in the drops very often but he would find it more comfortable to ride the tops of the handlebars or the brake hoods. For a new rider this is a bit nerve-wracking as he felt he was too far from the brakes. He is used to a commuting bike where the brake levers are at hand. As he got used to the bike, and the rapid steering and light handling, he was less apprehensive. Then it was an explanation of gearing and shifting. The Chesini uses Campagnolo friction shifters on the frame and while the shifters work well, these also take some getting used to as you need to reach down for the shift. But everything was coming together well enough that I was confident we could do a ride now.

The route I picked was most of the way to Neandertal, but would bring us up a steep hill before circling back. The weather was ideal, fair and 15ºC and no wind to speak of. Riding the bike path out of town was easy and did not require riding in traffic. Leaving Düsseldorf, we had to deal with cars and buses but it was not so bad. I told Henri to keep a sharp eye out on the road, and also to shift gears before he needed to do so. We rode through Erkrath and then made the turn to the left off the L357 road that took us up the big hill on Metzkausener Strasse.

A ride with one serious climb!

The Chesini has lower gearing than the Basso I was riding but Henri probably had no need of it as he easily kept up to me. The first part of the road is not so bad and I started off confidently but about two-thirds of the way up there is a nasty curve and pitch-up. I was really feeling the 8 extra kilograms I have packed on in Germany since my arrival and was huffing and puffing to get to the top. Heading northwest took us to the intersection with Landstrasse 7, where we turned around and retraced our route. We saw several other cyclists coming up the hill, so it is obviously a local Test of Strength, but we continued along the crest of the hill on Gans Strasse and then turned downhill back to Erkrath. The road is actually a bit potholed so you cannot get the kind of speed you have earned with the big climb.

We retraced the rest of the route back to Düsseldorf and my place. We were on the road for 1:08, covering 23.55 kms and climbing 165 m. It was a good introduction to road cycling for Henri, and a test of his new equipment, and I look forward to doing more riding with him. There are many nice areas to visit here and we might be able to use his car as well to get to some jump-off points, avoiding city traffic.

Another Video of L'Eroica 2010

The weather is getting ideal for cycling here on the Rhein, and although I have a lot of events in mind for 2011, l'Eroica continues to dominate as the best single day one. Not surprising when you watch this video of the 2010 ride:

An Amsterdam Interlude

People who know of my interest in cycling tell me constantly that I should go to Holland, which they see as some kind of two-wheeled paradise. I have, in fact, ridden there when I completed the famous Eleven City Tour of Friesland in 1999 on my birthday. This was a very enjoyable event, with some 15,000 participants riding the 230 km course and with excellent organization, but it sure was flat and half of the figure-eight course sure was windy. My attempt to register for the Amstel Gold sportif for next week failed, a course I want to ride because it is quite hilly. I love the idea of the “Limburger Alps.” Not to mention all that beer...

Bike parking at Amsterdam Zentraal station

Anyway, Amsterdam is a reasonable train ride away from Düsseldorf to make a day trip possible and on Saturday I went there with a friend to look around a bit. The only express train to the city arrives around noon, which is just too late, so getting up early we took a series of slow trains that eventually got us to Amsterdam after 3 ½ hours and four transfers. The trains were all pretty packed, suggesting that the Dutch rail system has a capacity issue, but everything ran punctually. It was fun to try and read the signs, which look slightly German but not enough to be comprehensible. From the train, we could see how narrow Dutch roads are, and all of them seemed to be bordered by very well-maintained bike lanes, including ones that were nicely illuminated, even out in the country. We saw a couple of riders on racing bicycles out enjoying the fine Spring day.

Amsterdam Zentraal station is really huge and it took a few minutes to get our bearings and find our way out after the lady at the information desk assured us, to our surprise and doubt, that we would not need a reservation on the express train going back to Germany. Leaving the station, we saw the bicycle parking area to our right and this is where I suddenly realized things are quite different here. There must have been several thousand bicycles parked in rows and rows. The bike station also offered rental bikes and repairs. There was a huge banner as well that stated emphatically that “Amsterdam Loves Bikes!”.

Our plan was to just meander through the city and make our way the 2.5 kms to the Van Gogh Museum. There were huge crowds of people, including vast numbers of foreigners, heading in roughly the same direction, so we turned down a parallel side street. I was quite interested in the fact that the roadway was wide enough for a single car and only ran in one direction, whereas the bike lane was considerably wider. It was also very heavily used and one had to take care not to step into the rush of traffic, which is generally silent. I was struck by the fact that in spite of the crowds the city was extraordinarily quiet. We were struck by something else, which I did not immediately realize: we were walking through the red-light district, which actually has red lanterns illuminating the houses where the bad women are on display. They seemed quite friendly as they waved at me, but I was not in the market for this, nor for the marijuana, whose pungent fumes came from the open doors and windows of each of the euphemistically-named “coffee shops” we passed.

"Oma-Opa fiets," aka "Granny-Grampa bikes"

There were a number of bike rental places and we found a shop that sold typical Dutch bikes. These tend to be quite solid in construction and are designed to carry things. The styles range from the “Oma-Opa fiets,” which we think of when the traditional big black (and heavy) Dutch city bike is mentioned, to bikes with big front racks to the Bakfiets, which is a cargo bicycle with a long box in front, over a small front wheel. All of the bicycles appeared to be constructed to withstand direct atomic blasts and had zero sporting pretensions. Observing them in action during the day the reason for this became obvious, as we shall see.

We soon began to cross the series of canals that are such a famous feature of Amsterdam, and many of the buildings lining them were quite marvellous. One place featured not only the usual gables but a huge globe on the roof. The Dutch had a global trade empire at one time, making this tiny nation one of the richest in the world, and the profits of the spice trade, among other things, paid for all these fine buildings. We stopped briefly to sit outside in a nice square to enjoy lunch, which was somewhat more expensive than one would pay in Germany, but the food was good and so was the opportunity to rest our legs and people-watch.

Cheeses, cheeses, cheeses...

Amsterdam attracts a huge number of tourists due to its very central location in Europe and much of the city caters to them. Along with the sex and drugs part, there were a great number of shops selling junky souvenirs and also some local products, such as rounds of cheese that probably weighed as much as an Oma fiets but which I am sure are quite delicious. We did not see a lot of the kind of shopping that would fit some kind of middle ground between t-shirts and fine arts and antiques, and there was the usual presence of multinational shops seen everywhere and which make shopping so uninteresting as local products (besides the crappy t-shirts and wooden shoes) are pushed out.

Continuing along the canals we came to the Flower Market, which offers a staggering variety of bulbs of wonderful decorative flowers, along with the inevitable Cannabis seeds (available as a “starter kit” for neophytes) and then soon found ourselves at the Van Gogh Museum, located behind the grand Rijksmuseum, which is noted for its Rembrandts.

The Van Gogh Museum is really superb. Of the 900 paintings the artist completed in his active period of only 12 years (that’s 3 paintings every two weeks, with no time off), the Museum owns 200, plus sketches, watercolours and a lot of his letters, including those two and from his brother Theo, who acted as his dealer. I am sure at the time of his early death at 37, nobody thought Van Gogh’s art would have much staying power but he was quickly appreciated as a forerunner of modern art. His paintings (along with those of Pablo Picasso) are prominent in the list of the most expensive paintings sold, which would be of some comfort to an artist who, in his troubled lifetime, managed only to sell a single painting.

One of 37 self-portaits painted by Vincent Van Gogh

The Van Gogh Museum houses some of the artist’s finest works, including “Wheatfield with Crows,” and one of the famous “Sunflower” paintings. It is a comprehensive examination of the development of the artist, who came into his own in Arles. There are other excellent paintings by the Impressionists as well, including some great Monets, a nice Renoir, a Seurat, and a marvellous Cezanne picture of Provence.

A Bakfiets cargo bicycle

Leaving the museum, we found a little bakery and bought some refreshments, enjoying them on some steps of a house facing a canal. More people-watching and this time I focused more on the bicycles and how they were used. My suspicions always were that Amsterdam is not the kind of place you would like to ride if you enjoy cycling fast, dashing up and down hills, through curves, feeling the pleasure of speed, the sensation of flying. No, Amsterdam cycling is totally utilitarian. The car has been replaced by the bicycle (along with the streetcar) as the principal beast of burden. It is unlike any other place I have seen, including Copenhagen. No horns blares, no tires squeal from braking. It is eerily quiet for a major city. Nobody wears cycling-specific clothing, nor, without exception, helmets. Bicycles transport you faster than walking but not by much. I saw the odd man wearing a suit and riding, and plenty of women smartly dressed, often wearing short skirts and fashionable boots with heels. Baskets held groceries or small dogs. One Bakfiets rolled by and we saw two blonde children asleep in the Spring sunshine in the front of the box, followed by groceries, followed by the young mother on her saddle pedalling, followed by another child sitting on a saddle behind her!

No sissy Cryptonite lock here! Check out the serious chain and padlock.

There is an occasional ringing of a bell to avoid flattening pedestrians (being hit with a loaded Bakfiets would probably be like being hit by a piano) but everyone is cycling at a very very leisurely pace. Nobody sweats. This is in spite of the weight of the bikes and the fact that every one is also carrying a massive chain and padlock that probably double the weight of the bike yet again. None of the bikes squeaked or rattled but they all looked pretty much taken for granted.

Amsterdam is twinned with Toronto but there is no similarity between them. In Amsterdam, it is clear that a conscious decision was made to develop a liveable, human-scale city whose shape is not bent to meet the demands of the automobile. It is a completely different lifestyle, reflecting the crowded conditions of the Netherlands and its lack of energy resources, but nonetheless the Dutch clearly have a very high standard of living.

When I lived in the United States, I recall that when the bicycle was suggested as a valuable addition to the transportation network, the response by doubters was generally along the lines of “Well, this isn’t Amsterdam!,” with an undertone of “This is a country of vast distances, not like that tiny place populated with gay socialist potheads.” As one Congressman huffed: "Bicycles are an 19th Century invention!". Much like, say, electricity and cars. Anyway, Amsterdam is not perfect, certainly, but perhaps it gives us an insight into how the world could look in a future where energy and land cannot be wasted and where we might all move at a more leisurely pace, bells ringing from time time.

Klassikerausfahrt 03.04. 2011

Getting ready to ride
Photo courtesy of Klassikerausfahrt.de

Today I had the pleasure of joining a great group of around 20 cyclists for the monthly retro-ride in the Düsseldorf area. After yesterday's truly glorious weather, the forecast for today was not nearly as good although temperatures would still be around 12C but there there was a good chance of rain. Leaving the apartment around 10:15, it looked to me like the rain was about to fall but it was still warm enough to wear shorts and short-sleeved jersey.

My weapon of choice was my c. 1987 Chesini, which, since I bought it in October, had only been ridden around 25 kms in total. During the winter, I was helped by my friend Richard to build a new front wheel but it had yet to be tested. Just before reaching Ricci-Sports, the start location of the ride, my rear wheel suddenly pulled forward (am I that strong?) when I accelerated, bringing me to a very rapid stop. The rear wheel is somewhat out of true but I fiddled with the rear brake to get me to the shop, where I could use a flat wrench to reposition it. Otherwise the bicycle seemed very good. I noticed that getting back into the toe clips and straps was taking more practice than I recalled I needed, however!

There were some interesting bikes positioned outside the shop, including a really nice red and white Bottechia owned by Klaus of Eisenherz, who sold me the Chesini, and a lovely golden Gazelle from the Netherlands, as well as some other unusual bikes. The Chesini received some nice comments. I was just hoping on a longer ride it would perform well.

We all trooped into the shop for coffee and chocolate croissants and then it was time at 11:00 to begin the ride. Everyone was very relaxed but we quickly got into formation and headed out towards the west. This took a while as there are a lot of stoplights in central Düsseldorf (and every time we stopped I had to fumble around a bit to get my foot back in when we started rolling) but eventually we crossed the Rhine and were out of town.

Enroute: oldies but goodies
Photo courtesy of Klassikerausfahrt.de

The ride was quite flat but very enjoyable. I took the opportunity to ride alongside a number of the other participants as the traffic was not too bad. We passed through farmland and near some industrial areas and occasionally saw other cyclists. Everyone was good about keeping a lookout for road hazards. Just over 2 hours later we returned to Ricci-Sports for coffee and cake, this being the fine German tradition, having covered just over 50 kms. As we all prepared to leave, the rain began, so the timing was perfect.

After I had adjusted the brakes, the Chesini performed beautifully and by the end of the ride I was having less trouble getting into the clips and straps. I really need to work on this for l'Eroica in October as the Peugeot I will be taking also has toe clips and straps. This is one area (clipless pedals) where there has been real progress over the years!

L t R: Chesini, Gazelle, Gitane

The Klassikerausfahrt retro-ride is scheduled for each month and the next ride will be on Sunday, May 1. Useful information about the rides is posted here.

Of course, after this enjoyable start to the day, I returned home in time to open a bottle of Alt-Bier, make some popcorn, turn on the television and watch the last part of one of the best Tour of Flanders I can recall.

1957 BBC Report on Pasta

Pasta has been the traditional fuel of cyclists since before Fausto was a baby. On this day fifty-four years ago, the BBC issued one of its most famous news reports about pasta in Italy and you can enjoy that celebrated short program here. With Spring around the corner in the Northern Hemisphere, visions of delicious spaghetti will make those training rides all that much more enjoyable. So ride fast but only twist a fork at the table. Tutto bene, tutto bello!

Photo: "Spaghetti," by andreasnilsson1976

Creative Commons

A Tin Donkey Milestone

I began to write this blog with the first postings on February 17, 2007. Today, just over four years and 423 postings later, my counter indicated that the blog has now received 100,000 hits.

Considering that it was meant to be a modest electronic diary to let me comment about trips and things two-wheeled of interest to me, and to entertain friends and let them know what I have been doing, the response has been great. I want to thank all those new friends for tuning in--hooray for you and for cycling!

Lost Boys Tour of Europe 2010: The Giant of Provence

June 23, 2010

Chill Week was never meant to be a totally-relaxed-sit-by-the-pool kind of holiday, but if ever there was an anti-Chill event, it is a ride up the legendary Mont Ventoux. For many years I had wanted to cycle this climb, one of the icons of the Tour de France. I knew of the great racers who had fought their way up this extinct volcano, rising above the plains of Provence. It was here that Ferdy Kűbler, the mighty Swiss champion and Tour de France winner, completely blew apart, and quit his professional racing career; where Eros Poli, a huge Italian domestique who looked like he would have had trouble climbing a highway overpass, rode away from the peloton and was never reeled in; where Lance Armstrong and Marco Pantani clashed; where only last year Alberto Contador climbed as if on a Sunday outing with the Schleck brothers. And, of course, it was here where former World Champion Tommy Simpson of Great Britain fell on a hot July day in 1967, never to rise again.















As our gite was near Carcassonne in Languedoc-Rousillion, it was never going to be the easiest matter to arrange the logistics to get eleven people and bicycles to Bédoin, the traditional departure town for the “hard” side of Mont Ventoux. In addition to two passenger vans, we rented a small cargo van and carefully loaded it to the gills with our bikes. I had first calculated the drive to be somewhat over three hours, but with pastry stops, bathroom breaks and getting somewhat lost in Orange, it was closer to four and a half hours by the time we rolled into Bédoin, in perfect sunshine and low wind conditions. Coming off of the autoroute, we had a clear view of the looming Mont Ventoux and could easily see the weather observatory at the top that was our goal today. Parking our convoy in a big field outside of the village, we put the bikes together, got a group photo, and, around 12:45, rolled out.

Clearly many others felt the way we did about Ventoux, as Bédoin was abuzz with cyclists, many of whom had clearly already finished their ride and were keeping the cafés going. We quickly sped out of town and the climb began as we rode up the D974. I tried to keep my spinning as smooth as possible, concerned that if I pushed too hard and got cramps in my abductors it would be the end of my ride. Things went well but the smooth spinning soon enough turned to slow grinding as my RPMs dropped and dropped down to 45-50 instead of the usual 70 or so. The road was relentless as it took us through dense wood, with no flat recovery places. The heat was also becoming difficult and I soon followed the example of many of the European riders and took off my helmet for the climb. At one point, one of our group asked how far we had to go, and a Dutch comedian riding by said: “Just one more kilometer ,” which was funny because it was obviously untrue.

I had only taken off my helmet on a ride once before, on the Albula Pass in Switzerland, but it was definitely cooler. Our group was spread all over the mountain, and I took some photos en route, catching up with Dr. Chef and with TriMolly, who was actually riding the climb on her P2C time trial bike.

A brief break at the Chalet Reynard restaurant for some canned ice tea was welcome relief, and we were now above the tree line. I felt refreshed and actually was able to increase my speed for the second part of the climb, the famous stone landscape of the upper reaches of Ventoux. I passed a rider on a red Trek who was wearing toe straps and who looked quite miserable and felt quite zippy. The road was not as steep as through the woods and offered fantastic vistas below. I stopped to photograph Dr. Chef and get in some of the famous striped poles that are used to guide snowploughs. And I soon passed the red Trek rider again.

Although I was sore and tired and hot, I was enjoying the ride immensely. The weather tower was getting closer all the time and soon I reached the point, on the right side of the road, where Tommy Simpson, full of amphetamines and cognac and burning up in the intense heat, collapsed on the road. Famously demanding to be put back on the bike, he wobbled a few feet further before collapsing again, then succumbing in the helicopter on the flight to the hospital. A monument to Simpson has been erected on the spot and on the steps are offerings from cyclists—small mementos, a bottle of English beer, a plaque from a Belgian cycling club. When the Tour passed this way again in 2007, the 40th anniversary of Simpson's death was marked in a low-key fashion. It is part of the Tour de France's mixed legacy: perseverance against the elements (it was surprising to me how close Simpson got to the top of Ventoux), mixed with the dark side of drug use and cheating.


Only three more turns and the last bitter steep climb took me to the foot of the observation tower and the hordes of visitors. I felt a real sense of accomplishment as I joined the other Lost Boys. Some photos were taken, including some by an enthusiastic Frenchman who had seen me climbing below and was very excited that I had actually made it to the top. Then on to business: the purchase of a miniature Mont Ventoux milestone, and on with the armwarmers and off down the other side of the mountain. I was joined by Greg, Terry and TriMolly as the others elected to return to Bédoin the way we had come up.

The descent towards Malucene is wonderful. It started off very twisty and steep and then opened out to wide curves as we accelerated. I am a perhaps over-cautious descender and I was using the brakes a great deal but I was still hitting speeds of 65 km/h as we rocketed onwards. Traffic was light, and when it appeared the drivers gave us plenty of room.

After plunging downhill for 14 kms, we reached Malucene and began the final 12 kms towards Bédoin to complete our big loop. The road rose and fell (aargh: more climbing ) and passed through gorgeous landscapes and past orchards of cherry trees ripe with red fruit. I even took a photo of Terry at the Col de la Madelaine which, at 448 m ASL, is not the famous one The final descent, under the shading boughs of roadside tress and smelling of sun and pine, was lovely as we dropped into Bédoin, the last of the group to return for a well-earned beer and some food, and the chance to watch Team USA defeat Algeria in World Cup action.

The ride back was long but not eventful. Unless you count our going the wrong way for 15 kms on the A7, or our attempt to drive a French highway interchange. Going from the A7 to the A9 in Orange requires getting off the highway, paying the toll, and then going around a traffic circle, getting another toll card and getting back on the highway, one of the stupidest arrangements in traffic engineering I have ever seen. But after driving in light traffic past many famous southern French cities (Montpellier, Nimes, Bexiers, Narbonne), we reached the right exit and drove the lovely, and empty, D135 from Trebes to Laure-Minervois and the gite. Mission accomplished.

Well, perhaps not entirely. Van No. 3 made it back to Laure-Minervois eventually, but Van No. 2 went on a rather lengthy excursion as the occupants seemed determined to discover parts of France not on our itinerary, ending up in an industrial park outside of Marseilles. Thanks to some helpful, and voluble, Algerians at a kebab shop they eventually ended up back on track and somehow managed to return to Laure-Minervois by 1:30 am, making for an exceptionally long day but providing some entertaining stories.

The Mont Ventoux ride distance was 55 kms in all, with 1900 m of climbing. Of that, 1600 m were in the first 22 kms, a truly relentless climb. Check out the crazy profile below. I feel like Eros Poli...

55.53 km | round trip
Altitude range: 1,600 Meter (300 Meter to 1,900 Meter)
Total climb: 1,951 Meter Total descent: 1,931 Meter

Lost Boys Tour of Europe 2010: Cruising to Corbières

If you want wine, this is the place...
June 22, 2010

Another beautiful day in Languedoc-Roussillon and it was time to try riding in a new direction. The insistent wind out of the north seemed to have finally lessened somewhat so we decided to take a ride southwards, knowing that a headwind would face us on the return. Not ideal, but the route looked promising. It would be another fine day of sunshine, vineyards, quiet roads and rolling hills and postcard-view vistas.


Climbing towards Corbieres
Most of our group rode the first 20 or so kilometers from Laure-Minervois along the D57 through Aigues-Vives and Marseillette to Capendu, but we split up here, near the famous Canal du Midi, with some riders going west towards Trebes and then northeast to our start but three other brave souls joined me as we pushed further south into Corbières, continuing on the D57 as it climbed over a high ridge and then took us down into Montlaur. The climb was at a reasonable grade but gave fine views in all directions and the descent was enjoyble.

From Montlaur, we struck out eastwards along the D114, a tiny road that brought us to yet another of the region's gorges. The wind was blowing hard here and particularly so as we left the gorge and ran into a mini-hurricane for a moment, probably a wind tunnel effect. Our continuing downhill ride brought us to Camplong d'Aude, surrounded like so many towns here by vineyards, and we turned right to get on the D212, which had recent chip-and-seal repaving done but was fine to ride on. I had been a bit concerned as the road was marked in yellow on the map and I prefer the lighter-travelled white roads, but the D212 was almost completely devoid of traffic this Wednesday midday so we raced, albeit with some climbing, through Ribaute and on to Lagrasse.
Much like Minerve, Lagrasse is a compact town distinguished by arched bridges. It boasted cobbled and extremely narrow streets in the centre of town, and a small commercial section on the main road, where we found a snack bar and had some sandwiches and where some of us also enjoyed my favourite ice cream treat, the Magnum bar. We enjoyed our lunch, sitting in the shade and watching the traffic, which included an old MGB and an older green-and-cream Austin-Healey 3000 sports car.

The big sprint finish

Deciding that the yellow roads would be fine, we changed our ride plan slightly and switched to the not-very-busy D3 out of Lagrasse, riding another beautiful scenic road albeit it into a rather stiff headwind. Greg quickly overtook a mountain biker, who latched onto his rear wheel, and we soon we able to catch up and pass the mountain biker as well. The wind was a bit tiring and we were all happy to see the small road that would lead us directly back to Montlaur and a retracing of our route back over the ridge and down to Capendu. We had hoped to find a café for a post-ride celebratory espresso, or stop in at the pastry shop in Aigues-Vives for something, but everything was closed, so we finished our day cruising back to the gite.

81.59 km | round trip
Altitude range: 261 Meter (59 Meter to 320 Meter)
Total climb: 855 Meter Total descent: 855 Meter

Lost Boys Tour of Europe 2010: The Road to Minerve

Jen attacks the climb!

June 21, 2010

With the rain gone, it looked like the remainder of our stay in the Laure-Minervois area would be under sunshine. Several members of the group elected to go on a local wine tour with an English-speaking guide with a van while seven others decided to go with me on the route I had worked out some months before. The ride was meant to be without any extreme climbing but, of course, when sitting at my desk in Ottawa I had not considered the effects of the fierce wind!

The Thin Man sets the pace for Jen

The Lost Boys group has been fairly consistent over the years but we have added new members. On this ride we were joined by Jennifer, an American opera singer based in Leipzig, who is engaged to a regular Lost Boy, the Thin Man. As an engagement gift, they had gotten each other custom-built bicycles made by Sam Whittingham in British Columbia. The steel bicycles are beautifully constructed and his “Naked” brand’s fans include Lance Armstrong, who bought a fixed gear Naked show bicycle straight off the floor a few years ago at the North American Handmade Bicycle Show. Jennifer’s bicycle was a lovely blue and ivory and is designed for touring. It is a bit daunting to ride with a group of strangers who have put in many years together already but she did extremely well–although there were moments in the wind when I thought I was about to cry myself.

Taking the back roads, we quickly reached the village of Peyriac-Minervois, which is located on the busy D11 regional road, but we crossed over it and continued on some very quiet roads, passing through what seems like miles of vineyards. The road, the D52, through Pépieux and on towards Olonzac, was fairly flat but we had a good view of the mountains to the north. There was some irrational exuberance demonstrated by the sprinters and time triallists in the group as they joyfully raced down the road. The wind was not very evident and I was worried that we would feel it on the way back. I usually try to plan rides so that you have a headwind out and a tailwind back but you cannot always choose.

Heading north towards Azillanet (population 370), we took a energy bar break and looked around at the impressive old church, pausing for the requisite group photo, which took on a somewhat irreligious aspect, and then headed out on the D10, where we discovered where the wind had been hiding as it hammered straight down the road. It was very hard and we took turns pacing but not everyone could keep up. It was 6 difficult kilometres but suddenly we had a dramatic view of a river twisting through a canyon, surrounded by yet more vineyards, and we had reached our objective for the day: Minerve.

Located about 30 kms from our gite, Minerve, which gives its name to the whole Minervois wine region, is a tiny village of 111 inhabitants that is one of the three villages in Languedoc-Roussillon judged to be among the most beautiful villages in France. It sits on the Cesse River, which appears innocent but can seriously flood, and its narrow streets are very charming. Looks are deceiving since Minerve was the site of a massacre during the Albigensian Crusades. So goes the story:

In 1210 a group of Cathars sought refuge in the village after the massacre of Beziers during the Crusade. The village was besieged by Simon de Montfort, 5th Earl of Leicester. The attacking army besieged the village for six weeks before it capitulated. They set up four catapults around the fortification: three to attack the village, and the largest, Malevoisine, to attack the town's water supply. Eventually the commander of the 200-strong garrison, Viscount Guilhem of Minerve, gave in and negotiated a surrender which saved the villagers and himself after the destruction of the town's main well. However, 140 Cathars refused to give up their faith and were burned to death at the stake on 22 July.

Only one tower remains of the original fortifications, but it still is a beautiful place, and we enthusiastically crossed over one of the high bridges and began to look for a suitable place for lunch. The village is dug into the sides of the canyon and the pizzeria we found required us to leave our bikes on the street and climb up a set of steep stairs. It was a pretty place and the pizzas were the big, thin, generous European ones.

Sandra digs into the recovery ice cream

While we were eating, we were joined by our wine tourists, who were stopping on their route to look at Minerve and they saw our bicycles. A good meal and an excellent coffee or two later and we were back on the road.

The road took us westwards along the Canyon de la Cesse and we had a dramatic view on our right-hand side as we rode along a flat stretch. The canyon is deep and twists and turns constantly. Riding on the ridge, however, we caught the full force of the north-east wind, which must have been blowing at a steady 40 km/h, making progress slow. It was a long 11.5 kms of patient riding that brought us to our next turn, south onto the D12 at St-Julien-de-Molières. Now we had both a tailwind and a descent so this made up for the pain of the previous hour. Zipping through Saussenac and Félines-Minervois, we stopped briefly to look at a pretty restored windmill and then found ourselves in our market town, Caunes-Minervois. Dr. Chef and I split off from the group to look around the old town a bit and admire the big church and monastery before heading back to the gite.

Brett grilling zucchini

One of the advantages of staying at a gite is that you can do your own cooking if you so choose. With a group of dozen, there are always enthusiastic cooks (and cleaner-uppers) to count on and we were not disappointed. Wrong-Way Brett and Dr. Chef worked their magic and we took over the big patio at the gite for an excellent dinner, lubricated with a great deal of local wine.




68.85 km | round trip
Altitude range: 392 Meter (50 Meter to 442 Meter)
Total climb: 863 Meter Total descent: 863 Meter