Perfect!

France makes itself obvious. As soon as we crossed the border from Germany we knew we were in a different land. For one, cars were sporting tricolour flags in celebration of the World Cup, rather than the black, red and yellow. For morning tea, the boulangeries instead of the Backereis. For our delectation, the women who take care of themselves over a lifetime in place of the women who have come to grooming a little later in life. (Not that there is anything wrong with later grooming or indeed no grooming. This is merely an observation.) And the meals, with the exception of the Texas Grill which we ended up in near Marcon on account of staying in a hotel in a food desert, are delicate, delicious and well-proportioned. Try a gallete of potatoes with smoked salmon somewhere in the woods close to Colmar, or the duck confit beside a canal in St Leger-sur-Dheune, or the apple tarts or pain au chocolat.

 

the gallete in question

Our French leg is taking us from Colmar to Marseille, a bit of a dash as we have poodled around Germany and achieved little in a southerly direction. Of course, what the French don't do half as well as the Germans is bike paths. But that said, our route has been pleasant enough so far, rolling through woods on disused rail tracks, along canals, past chateaux and herds of healthy Charolais, peering into locks and waving at patient boatmen and women (I'd last at best three quarters of an hour on a barge going through the infinite locks, hauling on ropes, pulling on lock gate releases, waiting until the water fills the lock, and inching forwards at about five kms an hour) and even coming across a solitary bass guitarist with volume fully amped in a deserted part of rural Burgundy.

Highlights have included barracking for Australia against the Netherlands in a Turkish cafe - best pide I've ever eaten, riding through a 1.6km tunnel where the temperature dropped to 11 degrees and a three-night stay in a farmhouse in a tiny village close to Chalon-sur-Saone. Our host, Mireille, a fascinating and generous woman, drove us through famous Burgundy vineyards up to a hilltop where we looked out over the 'brown gold' as she called the soil. Her large shady garden was delightful and enabled us to enjoy a truly restful day, lazing round, doing the washing, napping and cooking while glancing upwards to a big blue sky occasionally dotted with skydivers and light planes piloted by enthusiasts.

along Canal de Centrale

our French farmhouse for 3 nights

Mick doing bike maintenance

looking down on Burgundy

For those who are into numbers, we have now covered 555.5kms by bike, according to my reckoning. I'm loving this ride - slow, meandering, made up from day-to-day. As Michael our German friend would say, 'Perfect!'

 

Garis enjoying a big French beer

 

Stasbourg, near the Cathedrale

 

Barb examining a monument to dead French resistance fighters near Chalon

 

on the canals

 

in a lock waiting for it to fill

 

Barb assisting by pulling the rope to shut the rear gate of the lock

 

Garis explaining the finer points of locks to Barb

 

 

Posted with Blogsy