There’s nothing like successive days of mountain passes to test your fitness. We thought we were in pretty good shape after so many months of cycling around Europe and Morocco but today our thighs were throbbing as we headed out on the road towards the Col du Lautaret, our second-to-last major pass before we cross into Italy. The climbs from the previous two days had taken their toll. We’d hoped to make the journey across the top at a height of 2058m in one day but our muscles got the better of us. Obviously we aren’t yet Tour de France material! As racing cyclists dashed by on their ultralight bikes we decided we’d had enough and found a field to call home for the night instead. It was a good decision in terms of the weather because the rain started falling not long after we put the tent up and the thunder and lightening wasn’t far behind. (more…)

Mountains have definitely been the theme of the past few days. At least by now we are getting used to racing cyclists zipping past us while we take plenty of chocolate breaks by the side of the road. Sometimes we would like to give them a pannier or two to take to the top for us. We’re just waiting for one to offer! As we were making our way to the Col d’Ornon at 1371m we passed many memorials to the French resistance during World War II and also to individuals who were executed by the Germans. The whole area is so peaceful and beautiful now, it’s hard to imagine what it must have been like just half a century ago. After a lunch break by the edge of the Malsanne river and a slow journey to the peak, we celebrated our hard work with a beer at the top before descending to Le Rivier d’Ornon, so beautiful with its gardens and river rushing through the heart of the village. We were on a hunt for the house of two cyclists we’d contacted through the Warm Showers list. Of course in a small town everyone knows everyone so we were welcomed warmly by the neighbours, even though Cécile and Arnaud were still at work. Laurent brought us cups of tea and biscuits while we waited in the garden and we chatted for a while about his home in Morocco, where he’s lived for the past four years. One of the many things this trip has taught us is how many ways there are to live your life, beyond the standard 9-to-5 office job. There are so many people out there doing things we’d never have thought of, like moving to Morocco, herding sheep and working in the fields. Before long our hosts were back from work and we passed a wonderful evening with them, hearing about all their bicycle travels, their new home and feasting on racelette for supper.

Our training for the Alps continued apace today as we cycled over three mountain peaks to reach our camping spot in the woods just outside the town of Mens. From the road we can see the truly high and snowy peaks of the Alps far in the distance – something to think about as we climb relatively low passes. We started the day with a 20km climb from our campsite to the Col du Menée, taking in views over high pasture land, filled with early summer flowers, and mountains all around us for as far as we could see. Three hours after we started and sustained by plenty of peanuts, chocolate and bananas, we finally reached the top and enjoyed a long downhill run to the picturesque town of Clelles and then along a fast-flowing river and back up again to Mens. All that hill climbing made us very thirsty so we couldn’t resist sitting down at a bar’s outside tables for a cold beer. The waitress brought us a local brew, an amber colour and not unlike some Belgian beers. Heaven in a glass. It gave us the energy to climb the last few kilometers up to the Col Accarias, past fields full of poppies and wheat. As we started down the other side of the peak we spotted a walking trail going through the woods and a little investigation just off the path revealed a flat, leaf-covered patch of ground: perfect for the night. We pitched our tent, enjoyed an evening meal of chorizo, lentils, rice and pasta and then settled in for a little recovery before another day of uphill pedalling tomorrow.

The clouds were an ominous grey as we poked our heads out of the tent this morning. It looked very much like rain and we listened for the drops the whole time while we ate our porridge, did the dishes and packed up our bags. We took everything down under the tarp and then finally decided to make a run for it, hoping to cover at least a few kilometers before the skies opened above us. We left the campground, crossed the Drome river and cycled east alongside the rushing waters, swollen from much more rain than is usual for this time of year. Vineyards lined the steep hills that make up the Vercours, foothills to the Alps, and we stopped for a morning break at a memorial to the French resistance in World War II. In 1944, along these now pleasant banks, the Germans fought fiercely with local regiments and many villages were burned. With the beautiful scenery, the mountains rising in front of us, we were in the town of Die for lunch before we knew it and still not a drop of rain had fallen on us. We took our time in the afternoon, dawdling along minor roads to Chatillon en Diois, where we found a campsite set beside a rushing river and with the mountains now towering close to us. We can just see their peaks through the mist that hovers a few hundred meters above our heads. Tomorrow we launch ourselves towards the Col de Menée – at 1,457m it will be our first real test as we approach the high passes of the Alps.

Our tarp proved itself yet again today as we found ourselves riding through a series of rainstorms in southern France. It was only our first day back on the road after three weeks working with Patricia and Bert in the Ardeche and by lunchtime we were already missing their wonderful home. Just minutes after we sat down at a picnic table the rain started to pour down so we rushed to put up the tarp and then huddled under it, eating our ham and cheese sandwiches and watching the lightening in the distance. If we didn’t have the tarp we would have been soaked through, not to mention hungry! After an hour or so, and with no sign of the clouds clearing over our heads, we decided to make a break for it, hoping to reach some blue skies off in the distance. It wasn’t to be. We pedalled through the drizzle for a few more kilometers, then put up the tarp once again, happily this time under some cherry trees by the roadside. We picked and ate cherries until our tummies were ready to pop and the rain was letting up, then got back on our bikes and finished the last few kilometers to Crest. There we met another wet cyclist, a Dutch man out on his first tour but entirely fed up with the weather. Aren’t we all! It’s normally about 25 degrees and sunny this time of year but the last few days have been filled with rain and chilly temperatures. We can only hope for an improvement before we hit the high passes of the Alps in a couple days, where it was snowing not so long ago.