BACK IN THE USA

BACK IN THE USA now for almost a week and just about back to my former self. It has been hard to leave behind the experience of 'wwoofing it' in that small hamlet where Erwin and Jasmin have their 40 hectares on the steep slopes of the rising Pyrenees. What have my fellow wwoofers, Katie and Matthieu, been up to these last seven days...haymaking, digging, weeding, transplanting, or perhaps have they been up to the mountain pastures to check on the cows?

I will write about the wwoofing experience in my next post. Here I simply say a little about watching a finish of le Tour de France, the journey home, and my state of being.

Yes, I did get to see the Tour competitors go by! Through no fault of my own, I found myself in an excellent position about 400 yards from the finish, able to see about 250 yards up the hill in the direction from which the riders would be coming, and about the same distance towards the finish (which was around the corner). More of this in a moment.

The highlight of the day for me was to visit the Cite and Cathedral of St. Lizier, about two miles west of St. Girons. The town of St. Lizier, set atop a hill overlooking a beautiful valley, has a history going back to roman times while that of the cathedral goes back to the 6th Century. The cathedral is said to be made of bricks from all over France, has a beautiful adjoining cloistered garden containing a crypt and the burial places of several religious notables in the distant past. Given the steep descent from the farm and that the wind was behind me most of the way, I made it up to the cathedral in just half an hour. A baptism was in progress so I spent an hour walking around the cite streets and exploring a garden atop the hill from which are some great views of the valley and distant mountains.
Here you can see the cathedral. The crane does not go back to roman times...France is spending a lot of their economic stimulus money on refurbishing historic sites. The photo at the top is of the cloisters.

I then rode down to St. Girons along the old road joining the two towns and found myself in the small square where I had first stopped when arriving almost two weeks previously. Time for lunch. When I had finished a leisurely meal 'a la terrace', I discovered that the gendarmerie had locked the town down (must have been 200 0r so positioned along the final route). So I had to abandon my plan to ride further out of the town. I found a position right next to a TV camera and figured this would be a good spot.

So began a two and half hour wait for the action which consisted of about three quarters of an hour of 'The Caravan'... a cavalcade of all the team and sponsors, throwing out all sorts of gifts (hats, bottles of water, scarves, clappers). Then, after about 15 minutes, in came the first three riders! Several minutes later, the peloton; a hundred of so riders going past in just about 30 seconds!! At this point, one realizes that the Tour is what it is because of the TV coverage that so effectively expands the scope and detail of the racing,

It took two hours to get out of the town and on the way back to the farm. Here I am in St. Girons on that memorable day.

My trip home had several segments. Riding first from Rames to St. Girons and then east to Foix (with a couple of long climbs and a great lunch at a pretty hotel at the top of the final climb) where I was due to catch an overnight train to Paris, via Toulouse. However, the train drivers were still on strike and I made it to Toulouse by bus. A long wait to catch the 1:15 on Tuesday morning. Only five minutes late into Paris Austerlitz station and smooth connections to the airport. With luggage checked and customs behind me, I got trapped in a long, slow security check and nearly missed my plane. The cheers that greeted me as I took my seat were premature, unfortunately, as we then had a six hour delay due to a technical fault with one engine. However, I had good company and we actually enjoyed our conversation through the long wait. All this led to an overnight stay in Philadelphia that gave me a chance to catch my psychological breath and arrive really clean and refreshed in my local airport. Home at last!

Alive and well, bone weary after two weeks of farm work and lots of French, about five pounds lighter and not quite back into my accustomed self.