As I woke up this morning I could see the clear blue skies and feel the heat of the sun coming through windows. There wasn’t a moment to waste after two whole days stuck indoors. I was up, washed, dressed and out on the bike all within 20 minutes. The roads were just starting to dry out from the deluge of the past few days.
One consequence of the heavy rain tends to be rather more dirt, debris and stones on that bit of the road normally used by cyclists. Fortunately, it was early and the traffic light. I decided to choose a route which would give me a dry descent in the sunshine. Another hazard to avoid on the roads at this time of year are figs. They fall onto the road and make a sticky, squishy mess rendered more dangerous by the rain. Explaining that your road rash was caused by skidding on a fig is more likely to raise mirth than sympathy.
I was feeling wonderful this morning, riding at a good pace with a high cadence. There were not too many other riders out on the roads. At Pont Sur Loup, I opted to ride up to Gourdon, via Pre du Lac, before descending the Gorges du Loup, back down to Pont sur Loup. I then rode up to Tourrettes sur Loup before descending back home via Vence and La Colle sur Loup. Unfortunately, the forecast is for more rain tomorrow.
I commited a fatal error on monday. Started off in sunshine and short-sleeved summery bike attire to follow the Louis Caput route via the col, Greolieres, Andon, Caussols and descending via Gourdon to home. My bright pink Giro wannabe top was a delight in the morning sunshine as indeed were my pink hairless legs all the way to Caussols when the Gods decided to have a laugh and commenced to throw everything at me. Torrential rain, hail and good vision of about 50 metres all the way down the descent through Gourdon and down the Gorge to Pont du Loup. My tiny hands were frozen, as indeed was every other extremity, and cramped from having to brake every second breath. There were moments when bowls seemed infinitely preferable to cycling as my non-intimate physical activity of choice. Soup would only have satisfied me at that time if I could have laid in it for 30 minutes. Needless to say rain ceased and sunshine returned over the last few kms and I returned to wife and hearth almost as pretty as when I had left. Of course I explained at length how daring and skilful I had been to negotiate the hellish descent through the storm but I could see in her eyes that her “Yes dears” were not in anyway linked to the thoughts going through her mind. She patted my forehead, brought me beer and got on with her day. Oh well.