If you have never seen the movie Stand By Me, stop reading this blog, download it or rent it, watch it and then – but only then – read on. Two reasons. Firstly, it is a fabulous movie and much more deserving of your time than reading our travel blog. And secondly, this blog contains a plot spoiler.
We started on Wednesday from our campsite in Port Leucate. We had planned to get an early start but I accidentally left my I-phone on silent, we didn’t hear the alarm and were only woken by a cute hound sniffing around our campsite. We packed up and hit the road for about 500 metres until I spotted a cute little roadside bakery which served tiny coffees from a tiny machine in a tiny cup.
The next 30 kilomtres were a mix of quiet beachside and farmside roads interspersed with hair razing rides along major roads. There is a gap in the cycle network in this area and I had to improvise. I was quite impressed with most of my planning although Cassy was less than impressed with the highway riding.
We ate lunch in La Palme much to the amusement of the locals dining at their village cafe. They laughed at us like they were inbred bogans - or that was our summation anyway. We continued on after lunch to Port Nouvelle and then straight onto a hiking route along a little canal to Narbonne.
Our plan was to go to Narbonne, get directions to the Canal du Midi, and keep riding in that direction. By the time we hit Narbonne we had clocked 60 kilometres and I threw in the towel. Cassy said she was prepared to cycle on - but only after I insisted that I was finished for the day. We found a Tourist Information bureau in a tiny silver building that looked like a public toilet and I asked for directions to the Canal du Midi. I was told to stay on the canal we were on and we would get there. Unbeknownst to me the canal we had been riding along from Port Nouvelle to Narbonne was the Canal de la Robine, an offshoot of the Canal du Midi. And for reasons that soon will become clear, that tourist information bureau gave out some really bad tourist information. They didn't have any maps either...
We found a hostel near the main tourist information office where I had stopped to gather more maps. Anyone who has trekked with me knows that I rely heavily on maps to find the path – even when the path is right in front of me. The maps confirmed that we indeed were on the Canal de la Robine with a path leading to the Canal du Midi.
Whilst we were eating dinner at a cute little creperie, we spied another cycle tourist. Cassy encouraged me to try my rusty French on him and we were soon regaling each with other cycle touring stories. Alexandre, a young French man, was travelling from Toulouse – where we are headed, and we had travelled from the direction in which he was headed. We gave him some maps of the regions we had passed through (there is not enough room in our luggage for all the maps I collect). And he told us the story of the dilemma we would face the next day.
Most of the cycle paths and routes we have encountered are 90% brilliant and 10% incomplete. Long bicycle paths leading to suburban roads with no signs. Confusing routes that lead into, but not out, of towns. Beautifully constructed paths around roundabouts that lead to bridges with a foot and a half step up to the foorpah. And our ride to the Canal du Midi would be no different. There are 270 kilometres of mostly well resolved cycle paths along the Canal du Midi. And one big dilemma. After following the Canal de la Robine out of Narbonne the route is along the Canal de Jonction to the Canal du Midi. The kicker is that although there is a cycle route the whole way, there is no way to cross between the Canal de la Robine to the Canal de Jonction. Alexandre told us there were two choices for the morning: cycle 14km from Narbonne sharing highways with the crazy French drivers to reach the Canal de Jonction or cross from the Canal de la Robine to the Canal de Jonction on the rail bridge. The rail bridge that is only used by slow moving tourist trains on Saturdays and Sundays from June to September and the very occasional freight train. The rail bridge that looks remarkably like the one in Stand By Me.
The decision was easy to make the evening before after a glass of white wine and a belly full of dinner. The next morning after 10kms of riding and a long push up the rail embankment we were standing at the side of the tracks staring at the long railway line stretching ahead of us. The decision to take the rail bridge seemed harder to make as we could not see around the blind corner at the end of the bridge. We quizzed each other about what we would do if a train came. Would either of us end up like Vern clinging to the tracks refusing to move whilst the train bore down on us? Would we jump into the river or hang onto the side of the bridge if we had no choice? Would we push our bikes and trailers into the river to save them? Would we end up laughing in the dust just like River Phoenix and Corey Feldman?
In the end we went over the train bridge but only because we could not face a ten kilometre ride back into town plus another 14 kilometres on highways to get to the other side of the canal. We pushed the bikes and trailers leaping across the rails two at a time. Every so often a trailer would catch a particularly long cut sleeper and tip over – threatening to fall into the canal in the process. We would have to stop and right the trailer and then continue on. Needless to say no train came and we reached the other side very much alive. We pushed our bikes and trailers down the embankment and continued on the ride.
The rest of the day was not as exciting. The Canal du Midi is completely gorgeous and we spent most of the day on rough paths shaded from the sun by the line of trees running the entire length of the canal. It would have been a gorgeous day's cycling but for the headwind. After 40 kilometres (which felt like 80 kms we had seen enough and stopped in at Homps for the night.
We started on Wednesday from our campsite in Port Leucate. We had planned to get an early start but I accidentally left my I-phone on silent, we didn’t hear the alarm and were only woken by a cute hound sniffing around our campsite. We packed up and hit the road for about 500 metres until I spotted a cute little roadside bakery which served tiny coffees from a tiny machine in a tiny cup.
The next 30 kilomtres were a mix of quiet beachside and farmside roads interspersed with hair razing rides along major roads. There is a gap in the cycle network in this area and I had to improvise. I was quite impressed with most of my planning although Cassy was less than impressed with the highway riding.
We ate lunch in La Palme much to the amusement of the locals dining at their village cafe. They laughed at us like they were inbred bogans - or that was our summation anyway. We continued on after lunch to Port Nouvelle and then straight onto a hiking route along a little canal to Narbonne.
Our plan was to go to Narbonne, get directions to the Canal du Midi, and keep riding in that direction. By the time we hit Narbonne we had clocked 60 kilometres and I threw in the towel. Cassy said she was prepared to cycle on - but only after I insisted that I was finished for the day. We found a Tourist Information bureau in a tiny silver building that looked like a public toilet and I asked for directions to the Canal du Midi. I was told to stay on the canal we were on and we would get there. Unbeknownst to me the canal we had been riding along from Port Nouvelle to Narbonne was the Canal de la Robine, an offshoot of the Canal du Midi. And for reasons that soon will become clear, that tourist information bureau gave out some really bad tourist information. They didn't have any maps either...
We found a hostel near the main tourist information office where I had stopped to gather more maps. Anyone who has trekked with me knows that I rely heavily on maps to find the path – even when the path is right in front of me. The maps confirmed that we indeed were on the Canal de la Robine with a path leading to the Canal du Midi.
Whilst we were eating dinner at a cute little creperie, we spied another cycle tourist. Cassy encouraged me to try my rusty French on him and we were soon regaling each with other cycle touring stories. Alexandre, a young French man, was travelling from Toulouse – where we are headed, and we had travelled from the direction in which he was headed. We gave him some maps of the regions we had passed through (there is not enough room in our luggage for all the maps I collect). And he told us the story of the dilemma we would face the next day.
Most of the cycle paths and routes we have encountered are 90% brilliant and 10% incomplete. Long bicycle paths leading to suburban roads with no signs. Confusing routes that lead into, but not out, of towns. Beautifully constructed paths around roundabouts that lead to bridges with a foot and a half step up to the foorpah. And our ride to the Canal du Midi would be no different. There are 270 kilometres of mostly well resolved cycle paths along the Canal du Midi. And one big dilemma. After following the Canal de la Robine out of Narbonne the route is along the Canal de Jonction to the Canal du Midi. The kicker is that although there is a cycle route the whole way, there is no way to cross between the Canal de la Robine to the Canal de Jonction. Alexandre told us there were two choices for the morning: cycle 14km from Narbonne sharing highways with the crazy French drivers to reach the Canal de Jonction or cross from the Canal de la Robine to the Canal de Jonction on the rail bridge. The rail bridge that is only used by slow moving tourist trains on Saturdays and Sundays from June to September and the very occasional freight train. The rail bridge that looks remarkably like the one in Stand By Me.
The decision was easy to make the evening before after a glass of white wine and a belly full of dinner. The next morning after 10kms of riding and a long push up the rail embankment we were standing at the side of the tracks staring at the long railway line stretching ahead of us. The decision to take the rail bridge seemed harder to make as we could not see around the blind corner at the end of the bridge. We quizzed each other about what we would do if a train came. Would either of us end up like Vern clinging to the tracks refusing to move whilst the train bore down on us? Would we jump into the river or hang onto the side of the bridge if we had no choice? Would we push our bikes and trailers into the river to save them? Would we end up laughing in the dust just like River Phoenix and Corey Feldman?
In the end we went over the train bridge but only because we could not face a ten kilometre ride back into town plus another 14 kilometres on highways to get to the other side of the canal. We pushed the bikes and trailers leaping across the rails two at a time. Every so often a trailer would catch a particularly long cut sleeper and tip over – threatening to fall into the canal in the process. We would have to stop and right the trailer and then continue on. Needless to say no train came and we reached the other side very much alive. We pushed our bikes and trailers down the embankment and continued on the ride.
The rest of the day was not as exciting. The Canal du Midi is completely gorgeous and we spent most of the day on rough paths shaded from the sun by the line of trees running the entire length of the canal. It would have been a gorgeous day's cycling but for the headwind. After 40 kilometres (which felt like 80 kms we had seen enough and stopped in at Homps for the night.
