Art of Travel: Paris to Madrid
Day Five
The ride to Lourdes was similar to the previous day’s journey in that it was difficult, and included many demanding climbs that were rewarded by the views. The weather over the last two days had turned hot and sunny. I stopped for lunch outside St. Pe by the La Pau rapids, used as a canoe run, where I cooled my feet in the shallows of the river.
I’m annoyed with myself for having up until now packed my camera at the bottom of my bag, so I haven’t had the energy to dig it out when a suitable photographic opportunity arose. Hence, missing out on recording the buildings by the river Gave just before leaving Lestelle Betharram (before St. Pe) which, I think, were part of a monastery or convent . I also missed capturing the view of the old town of Oloron sprawling up the steep hill side rock face overlooking the white waters of the d’Oloron river below, with the snow capped Pyrenees as a backdrop.
The campsite I chose in Lourdes was really handy since it was right in the town centre, in someone’s back garden, although the showers were cold but actually rather invigorating after a hot day in the saddle.
I got talking to a Dutch couple who were making their way to St. Sa bastian on big heavy mountain bikes. They had been travelling south-west for a month, travelling through Holland, Germany and France using an excellent little guide book put together for just such a journey, detailing the interesting routes to take, place to stay, etc. Lourdes itself was fascinating. The streets were the epitomy of Religious (Christian) tackiness with a glut of shops specializing in every Christian religious trinket under the sun. Some shops specialized in just crucifixes, and I came across a workshop making and selling plaster religious figures only. At the Grotto I saw “Jesus” branded cigarettes for sale. There was so much holy water that I wonder whether they had a 24 hour rota of priests constantly blessing the stuff to meet the demand? At 20:30 I was reminded of a scene from the film “Close encounters of the third kind” where people from all walks of life mass towards the same place for a collective event at a given point in time, and I felt a bit like an impostor (I wondered when I was going to be sprung). What the hell was this young girl doing in that cave all those years ago anyway? There was an army of people queuing in a variety of wheelchairs and hospitall beds on wheels and blue rickshaws being pushed by white uniformed Nurses.
Having slept rough for two nights it becomes such a relief to set up tent at the end of the day in a campsite. I can feel my body relax as I unload the bike and remove the crotch strangling cycling shorts, have a shower then go for dinner. In an attempt to combat the spoke problem I lightened the load on the rear wheel by first of all getting rid of the food I had been carrying with me, deciding to only carry enough for one lunch since I was never far from a shop, and secondly I suspended my clothes, books and tools from the handlebars using my sleeping bag sack to contain them, doubled up string tied from just under one break lever to the other upon which to rest the load, and two elastic ties (with metal hooks on each end) to secure the sack and its contains to the handlebars- and it worked like a charm.
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