Blog38-generators,Christ and hill climbs
Its been a wild few days to be sure, my brother Niel got on the plane about 9am out of Nice, France. Which left me time to get back to the Hotel pack and get on the road by about 10.15am. I can only sit around a town for so long and then the “stir crazy thing”sets in. Gott,a move, gotta do something, so might as well ride ( I know it should be a horse and it will be when I get home Sis, promise). Besides, the truth is, I was missin my own cookin. On another note my wife brought me Bible Tracts to hand out, so far I have hit 75 or 80 that I have handed out. The reason for the title to this blog is because of just how wierd this night has turned out to be. I done a little buck naked Preachin…..honest injun I did., but not at all by plan. We climbed for 12 miles, not all climbing mind you, only to arrive at the top and find my blue GPS dot moved and had tricked me into riding the wrong road. Now, I am considering my options for the morning and what they may be. As my Pastor and friend Rob would advise, they would say -Pray about it, and I will.
With my tent setup near the back end of a gravel parking lot about 100 feet off a traffic circle, and my stove setup to heat water for tea, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon and the clouds were on fire in all thier glory. It all seemed to me a good time to step behind my tent and have a quick bath. So with that in mind, I took out my OTHER clothes I wear at night ( almost the same just less sweat in them ). Add a little water here, and a little water there,, after all you are using about a quart of cold water to clean off the high spots from head to toe…..bare butt naked……..never even heard him drive in. Yes, a fellow drove in with a tiny little car which was covered in some sort of flame motif. By the time I seen him, he had already opened his door maybe 20 feet out in front of me. He walked with a purpose did this tall thin fella, I actually thought this was gonn’a get really ugly the way it was coming together. I should have known that being naked is one of the best ice breakers there is and renders most hostile situations to something akin a gong show. Pretty sure I surprised him as badly as he had surprised me. Not sure whose eyes were bigger once he knew my undressed state. But surprise did not halt his advance oe bit……as he came on I had the wisdom to instantly drop the water bottle and grap my camp towel. With a left hand full of camp towel and my equipment, water dripping from my nose, elbows and other places he stops 3 feet from me……a little bewildered as to what to say or what to look at first. So, realizing the awkward place that he found himself in, I began the dialogue……”hey hey, up here buddy, yup talk to me right here…..the towel is just a decoy……..dont worry about it for now. He says, What are you doing like this on private property…… in what was very broken english, enough I got the drift. Sorry I say, I didnt realize that the parking lot was a private affair. Yes yes he exclaimed rather excitedly, “ees is mine”. “Why are doing with a velocipede, what for”. So now with only one hand available, I have to explain that I ride for Christ, to meet people and see the world……try that with one hand tied behind….your someplace. “May I stay just tonight I asked”. To which he replied by making a rather loud motor noise which really confused the whole dialogue……about that time a 30 foot motorhome pulled in and stopped right in front of our debate stage. The driver steps out and walks right over to a tall thin man and another with a “too tiny” camp towel and goosebumps on the cheeks of his but you could hang a baseball cap on…….dang but that breeze was cool. He as it turns out, is surprised as the tall thin fella when it comes to my state of dress………”what does he do” he says not too me, but to the tall thin fella. He also then makes rather eboulliant gestures and noises like a motor or something. As it all turns out, these 2 fellas run a mobile wood fired oven pizza kitchen right out of the old motorhome, and the noise motions were a warning that once they setup thier generator I would not sleep well. Fine, I understand and accept the discomfort……..can I just put some clothes on……..no, I am not embarresed……..I am frozen. They left to go about thier work, and I dressed. Maybe an hour later they came over for an earnest visit about my trip, about Christ, about salvation thru Christ, and about what I do when not cycling. Maybe another hour goes by and they brought me over what has been the best 4 cheeses pizza I have had too date. A situation that began looking as thought it may not be too pleasant infact turned out quite remarkable. Handed out yet 2 more bible tracts in the process and never dropped the camp towel.
Lets go back a wee bit, my leaving Nice was not at all difficult. Basically hit the boardwalk and cycle slowly down thru the throng of people that lined the beach promenade, watching the road beside me said that it was even busier. There is a point where you just want to leave humanity behind for a spell, no matter how nice they are or how good the food is. Sure hope there are a few dark corners in heaven for a guy like me to get into and collect his thoughts. My route of choice has me on the coast down to Frejus and then from there I turn more northerly and westerly all the time. Dont get me wrong the coast is a true camera paradise, but not being an ocean and beach guy, it was wearing on me in a bad way. Stopping every 15 to 20 minutes to remove various and sundry items, bikinis, thongs, towels, sand pails from my spokes and chain was fraying my rock steady nerves. Did’nt seem to bother the folks that lost thier swim suit…..at all. Meantime, I was riding back and forth along the beach trying to be sure that each bikini wearer got her suit back…………call it the good samaritan in me, just my sense of obligation kickin in. First camp, first day after Nice, was set like a birds nest high on a rocky point of a headland. The wind was cool, the legs were tired and it was 5pm and the sun was slouched low on a clear horizon line. So that was it, there were so many houses and people around and very few flat spots to throw out even my little tent, I just threw out the bag of sleep and my mattress and cook up some couscous. Hit the sack at 7pm sharp, and slept right thru till 7am. Hot coffee, some toasted baguette (this baguette was a real one, not those convection oven specials like we get back home) we are rolling.
The previous night, I talked to Colleen and found out where my saddle making friend Yves Lesire had moved to. once armed with that bit of information we then had to workout a new route or approach to Yves place. Since going north at all would be a waste of time. We head due west, again along the French coast. the countryside gets quite rough and rocky between Nice and Marseille, it rather caught me by surprise. At one point I dropped down into a small town on very steep roads which I came to regret later upon exiting the place. Roads where in the mid 30 percent grade and 2 that I road on where cobble which really makes it fun. The tiny little village was gorgeous to be sure, very quaint and worth the effort, but the Postal lady not so much. My reason to drop down in to the town was to rid myself of some items that needed to just get mailed home………THE POSTAL LADY’S RESPONCE…..very sorry but we do not take mail……only give mail……adios ( but in french which I cannot spell ). Plenty cold and windy, the weather began to change the day before and just kept getting colder.
Down off a rocky ridge I blazed, as I made my way into Marseille, a town that I really wanted to just get thru and out the other side so I could find a camp. For some reason that is not how it ended up. I got hopelessly turned around in town and it took me and my cell phone better than 2 hours to get things right again. By now I am about 2 miles from the western edge of the city and it is very dark and I need to make camp someplace. Marseille is a rather ruff town, and I am right down in the seedy part of town with no hotels/motels that you spend more than an hour in if you get the picture. I prayed as I pedaled and looked for a campsite, sure enough,it turned up, right along the edge of shipping yard, chain link fence to keep the guard dog from me, a willow tree with low hanging branches, no broken glass etc to impail me and a large enough flat spot to pitch the tent. We made it, what more could be asked for. I was able to sit there eating and watch folks walk past on the sidewalk just 10 feet away who had no idea that I was there. Had a hot supper but no bath, just too cold. Two cups of sweet hot tea to finish the night, climbed into bed and began yet another book that Pine had helped me download sometime back. About books, not too segway off into anotber direction, but I am a huge fan of Brian Jaques writings for kids known as the Redwall Series. Since Brian has new book out I of course had to get my head into that one as well.
Esapcaped Marseille by just a few minutes after 6 the next morning. My route would take me right into the french Camargue ( Frances ranching and horse culture center). This is a special place within France for many reasons beyond the simple fact it has cattle on it. The cattle are a breed unto themselves,adapted to these wet marshy saltwater laden tidal flats. High horned and smaller than thier American cousins, fast affoot and excellent swimmers. The horses as well are an adaptation, born solid black and turning white within a few years. They as well are shorter than most American horses, lighter, and larger shoe sizes( refferencing the horses shoe size here, not the French mans foot) All of which are an adaptation to the wet environs they must operate within. The wind is howling out of the north and escaping down thru passes in the French Alps to sweep across the coastal tidal flats and escape out over the boiling surface of the Mediterranean. I was not so lucky, no escape for me. It was mostly a head wind, I had on every piece of clothing I owned and was still freezing up badly. The route I had chosen thru the Camargues is devoid of trees, nothing taller than about your waist around, no place to get out of the first gail type winds of the pending winters approach.
A portion of my route required I take a ferry crossing over to a tiny isthmus of land that bridges the saltwater like a dancing ashphalt ribbon across sea grass right up into the city of Montpellier. For 2 hours a trucker and I sat waiting for the ferry which ran on the hour???? Only to find that after the first run the Ferries operator quit and went home without telling anyone. Now that we knew there would be no ferry coming our way today we both turned back into the wind for a direct shot so 20 miles total of wasted time and energy. We would now make our way north towards Arles which is considered to be the nkrthern edge of this camargues region. The town is obviously proud of its legacy and heritage as it regards cattle and horses both as steel signs of appreciation for both animals festoon thier tiny streets. Out thru the other side we roll, right after we stock up at a Boulangerie for some pastry and bread. Further on we get some sausage and water for tonights supper. Camp, wow, one of the best I have had in sometime. We camped quietly behind a row of huge spruce trees that act as a wind break for an apple orchard. Great supper and great camp. Adios the coast and hello to more interior type small village farm ground……I am well pleased.
I thought surely I would make it to Yves saddleshop, but no such luck. Its cold again with a milder wind but in it all I realize that I will need some warmer clothing for the coming season. Since Montpellier is a much larger town than most I will be going thru, I opt to do a little shopping in the afternnoon. Tried 3 different cycle stores, all had clothing, all of it was aimed at winning the Tour de France. Hence a little to light and flimsy for a fella following my current pursuit. Had to pass on adding any heavier clothing at the moment, not for lack of trying. That evening, I camped within about 15 miles of my desired destination, but once again, it was just too dark to make it all the way. Quit for the day and found another great camp site.
I began the next day with little shopping right off the bat, there was a SuperMarket right along side the road that enticed me in, not that I needed any food. I have a friend, Don Wudel back in Canada who used to keep the saddle shop ( Chuck Stormes Saddlery where I was able to apprentice )supplied with Schimmelpennick Dutch Ginger cookies called Speculous. Since I knew they were his favorite cookie, I thought I would buy some Lu brand Speculous and mail them over to him in Alberta. So Wudel, I now have your cookies I just need to find a French Postman during those brief few hours that they are actually at work so I can get them sent. Made it to my talented friend Yves Lesires house by about noon and was welcomed in the usual french fashion……..with an embrasser…….a kiss to each sweaty cheek…….and a very fine meal. Yves, Myriam and Erin Lesire make France a must stop destination for me with hospitality,friendship and great food. Yves, not just an outstanding saddlemaker but a heck of a cook as well, prepared his world famous Shrimp recipe for me which I had heard about maybe 10 years earlier from my buddy Brock Lynch. Brock had bragged about it, and what Yves prepared indeed lived up to the boast of a Colorado salt salesman. For desert,I was served an indigenous Villeveyrac variety of apple….wow what an apple. Tried a second just to be sure and it was just as good. Friends are Gods Blessing for our time here on earth, and Yves and family are certainly that.
8 Responses to “Blog38-generators,Christ and hill climbs”
Hello Rhonda, Rob and the boys…..say, ya didn’t sneek a girl in thier yet did you? We are having fun for sure, certain body parts like hips and knees will never be the same again…..but who cares. We get new bodies where I am going. And yes boys, I do miss the days of reading Redwall to my kids….a true pleasure they should not be missed. I think we have everyone saved up in hardcover….I know there will be grandkids. Be well, be blessed.
Hello Marcia and Sam, guess I am a lot older than you because I am just not remembering our meeting. But, not to worry. I figger the Lord must want us to meet again, so I look forward to it. Dont mind anyone laughing, I do myself when I am laying in my tent at night and think back on some of the very wierd events that we have had. Please do say hello to Wudels for me. Till next time be blessed.
We sure are having fun living vicariously thru your adventures! As always praying for your safety. Billy was thrilled to hear you enjoy the Redwall books too. He and I spend some special time each night (almost), reading them. We are just starting Mattimeo. Hope you enjoy the new series!
Love from all of us, Ronda, Rob, and the boys!
Hi Jeremiah, and hi, too, to Don and Colleen! Imagine meeting you here! May be that Sam and I will have to come up to Meeting Creek to try out these cookies with you! Sam got quite a kick out of the mention of them cookies!
I’m loving your blogs Jeremiah – we read sections out loud and, well, don’t know if you’ll like this or not, but we laugh and laugh! Hopefully, along with you – not at you! Travel safe and hope to meet you sometime in person! (Don’t know if you recall us meeting in Calgary at the saddle shop you mention sometimes…many years ago and you were much younger than, as we were!) Anyways, be well.
Howdy all, thanks Mike always appreciate your insight and direction. Wudels, keep an eye out for a mail delivery, it should leave on the morrow. Lets all pray they arrive as cookies and not simply crumbs and dust in the corner of the box.
As I have said before and will say again, you are ” CRAZY MY FRIEND” but we love our wire spoke cowboy. Look forward to hearing all this in person. God be with you and may he protect your bare naked behind. Love you, Jeremiah.
Don’s glass of milk is already poured. I’ll be checking the mail every day.
Be sure and try “croque monsieur” sometime while you’re in France.
It was one of our favourite restaurant foods from when we lived there.
Don & Colleen
I have been reading Jeremiah’s blog since he started this amazing journey. And it is worth every minute of my time to hear him share his adventures. He holds nothing back and his transparency is what makes his prose so interesting. I appreciate his passion for “being” and enjoy the details in his prose. As a retired English teacher, I wish I had been able to get my student writers to embrace the honesty Jeremiah bestows on the reader. I started the day thinking about reading John Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley.” But on second thought, I think I’ll just reread some of Jeremiah’s old blog posts. What a great way to spend a Sunday morning!