FRANCE A VELO

The canals east of Nevers have given way to a less organized biking adventure (to be precise: a complete lack of a bike route or signage). For the first time in weeks I need to navigate with the help of my map. I get lost over and over again in the tangle of narrow country roads, just east of where the famous Loire Valley Route picks up. This area of bicycle no man's land ends up being a lot of French country fun. The villages are rather dead but I love visiting the Bar Tabac: the local drinking/snack shopping/lottery place. Everyone seems to end up here for a coffee, a kir, an ice cream or a chance at the jackpot. Sometimes there is a truck with woodfired pizzas or a village-wide petanque competition. Each square meter of surface is being used for a playoff, complete with team shirts and one referee per small group.

But I must confess. It is not the friendly French, the crusty baguettes, the delicious aperitives. It is not even the castles popping up around each curve in the Loire, the cab franc wines in Saumur, the lovely camp sites, the raspberry tartlettes, the perfumy pink roses. I am in love with all of the above but the true reason for my happiness is that I have reached bicycle nirvana. At first I was so pleased with the oceans of time for thought. But now I have reached a state of complete lack of thought. A beautiful emptiness in my head. A true relaxation of the busy mind.

In fact, I am within days of the finish line but I am playing with the idea of continuing north, towards Holland.