Collioure, Cerét, etcetera

Thursday 24/10/2013

We had a French geography lesson today; the factors affecting the microclimate of the Pyrenees-Orientales (or PE). From and English speaking estate agent in Cerét, inland from Collioure.

Apparently the Roussillon plains generate violent winds towards the ocean, and being between the mountains of the pyrennes and the lower mountain inland helps. This makes the Cerét area a great place to live. We experienced strong winds the first night we were in Collioure, (C from now on) buffeting the van. And further inland, the lower the price and the more the community is able to resist the tidal flow of people in for summer and out for winter. It was all very interesting and our teacher used a relief map of the region, so that the mountains were higher, and he told us where the snow line is in winter, and the seasonal norms for temperature.

Riding back to C late in the afternoon – 1740 when we left, and the trip took 20 minutes, I got the best out of the little Yamaha, easily keeping up with traffic at 90 km/hr on the minor roads, and then managing a speedo reading of 110 km/hr on the dual carriageway. The winds were pretty strong and the bike felt light underneath us, which of course it is. I am tending to carry the backpack on my front to distribute more weight over the fuel tank and the front wheel, as it feels more stable at speeds that way. Anyway the little Yamaha gives a lot, despite lugging the two of us and numerous groceries, swim-stuff, or laptop and camera and packed lunch.

Coming back from the beach yesterday we had a full backpack and then realized we needed some groceries. Then in the shop realized we had nothing to carry them in, so we took one of their empty cases for 6 bottles of wine and stashed the groceries in that, which went between us, and the backpack in front of me on the petrol tank. All we needed was a pet dog and a bicycle wheel hanging off the back to complete the funny picture.

Friday 25/10/2013

Laundry in the town of C – too few machines for the town, and a bit of waiting around for availability, then a wander around town while the washing gets done. We come back and put the washing on an airer as the tumble dryer only gave us 15 minutes, and the sun and wind are free anyway. Then lunch on the patio with a view across the hills. The hills are the Alberes.

In the afternoon we go looking for the road that leads to the fort at the top of the hill. We take a few wrong turns and end up at the windmill overlooking the town. Then we head off up a gravel road to Madelock (600m) which is quite a steep road and the gravel hairpin bends are not easy on a bike. 

At least we are not in the van! This is not a good sign to spot when we are....

We end up on an hour long hike around the hills without ever reaching the summit, but with lovely views.

I was wearing the wrong shoes for this, and Carol even worse!

Saturday 26/10/2013

We get up late and watch the van community sort themselves out. The ones leaving the site come down to our level at the bottom, and empty their waste water into the drive over drain, some wash their vehicles, everyone busys themselves with tidying out vans, taking their dogs out, saying bonjour to each other.

The French do try and engage me in some conversation, but my ability is not great.

I can manage the basics, yes you can walk into town, go straight down the hill on the track opposite, about twenty minutes walk, longer coming back!

Our range on the bike now extends to Ceret, 30 km away, and the trip requires €2.50 in petrol. It doesn’t sound much but it only costs €4 for a full tank, and I don’t like to run on empty, not knowing where the next petrol station is! So we can be out on the bike for about an hour of riding before a fill up is required. When we were in the mountains I filled up a plastic petrol tank, which we keep in the garage of the van and I made myself a short length of hosepipe just for siphoning petrol in the event that we ran out anywhere. Bikers all tend to help each other, and I am sure I would be able to get a litre of petrol at the side of the road if I did run out.  It is the only disadvantage to the bike – a very small petrol tank. To be fair, a longer trip would give you such a numb bum, you would have to stop.

Carol is cleaning a pair of sandals she wore yesterday hiking in the hills. We will try it again with walking boots, since the track is very rocky.

Sunday 27/10/2013

We get up early to go into one of the villages to attend mass; we chose Laroque but when we get there we discover there is no church in the village! So we have a walk around, buy croissants and have breakfast instead. Take at look at the houses in the estate agent’s window.

We come home and have a lazy afternoon. Later I find my thumb is hurting.

It was very windy coming home on the motorway, and I think that I have sprained my right wrist by riding crouched over the fuel tank on the way home, trying to keep the front wheel hard down on the autoroute at speed.

I cut up a lemonade bottle to use as a splint for my thumb, it works quite well and I can sleep in it. It resembles the splint used for a scaphoid fracture and keeps my thumb in a neutral position. We are both on the ibuprofen after our walk in the hills, all our muscles are aching.

We take a drive to the high point of collioure overlooking the town.

Monday 28/10/2013

Carol and I play some tennis; I’m still wearing the thumb splint on my right hand. It makes playing difficult so I try and coach her into using a proper flat forehand rather than a scooped up shot. She enjoys the tennis, and there is a practice wall where I practice my own forehand and backhand. The tennis club is opposite the aire where the vans are parked up. I find a coach and talk to him about a lesson. He has one free slot in the week, which happens to be 8am tomorrow morning. I take the slot despite the early hour.

Later while emptying the waste water from the van I decide to give it a wash.

In the evening there is much groaning over stiff muscles, and I have given Carol tennis elbow into the bargain, by insisting she keeps a firm wrist grip.

Tuesday 29/10/2013

I get up too early for tennis, forgetting that the clocks have gone back, they go back an hour in France too. Anyway, I have a very good lesson with the coach, playing for 20 minutes and then working on forehand and backhand topspin drives for the remainder of the lesson. He is a great tennis coach, and speaks good English, and the rates are much cheaper here than in England. Tennis is very popular in France, and every town has courts and a coach is not unusual.

I am exhausted and come home and have a hot shower before breakfast and then sleep for an hour to recover.

We have arranged to go and see a house for sale in a nearby village at 2.30pm and get there an hour early. This is when I realize my mistake about the time. The house is not very nice, but does have a lovely view.

Coming home we decide to stop and get a few groceries at the supermarket, Intermarché at St. André, a village near us.

When we come out 15 minutes later, one of the bike helmets has been stolen. I had not locked them onto the bike. I had forgotten to bring the cycle lock with us, and thought they would be safe for 15 minutes while we shopped. I was wrong. To compound the problem, the police pull me over when we set off home as Carol is not wearing a helmet. I explain that we were on our way to a police station to report the theft. They are sympathetic, and tell me there will be no penalty ticket for riding without a helmet, but I must leave Carol at the supermarket and go and get the van to collect her, or find another way to get her home. It is dangerous for her to be on the back of a motorbike without a helmet, and against the law.

On the way home, I decide it will take too long to load the bike into the van and leave our site, so I head for Collioure town centre and get a taxi to take me back to the supermarket to collect Carol, and drop her back to the van, before returning with the taxi to their depot to collect the bike. This time I take my helmet in the taxi with me! The taxi driver speaks no English, but we get by, and she murmurs her sympathies about the lost helmet. That’s life I tell her – C’est la vie!

This is all very annoying, and yet it was stupid of me to leave the helmets unlocked on the bike. The taxi driver tells me I will have to go into Perpignon for a replacement helmet, which is some distance away.

Supper is a rather flat affair; we are both tired, muscles aching from our tennis, disappointment sounds a flat chord in the background, we feel it in the air around us. We try and be cheerful; it was not an expensive helmet, we are both well and fit, and we have the van to keep us warm and dry, and a lost helmet is not such a big deal. Lesson learned; I must be more careful about taking a cycle lock with me to lock the helmets to the bike.

We seem to have caught the bottom edge of hurricane St Jude and it has blown in cold winds from the mountains. The temperature dropped from a balmy 26’ down to 18’ and gusts of wind are blowing at the van tonight, as if cuffing me around the ear for being a fool.