Don't knock "flat" until you've tried the alternative. Today actually started better than flat. I followed the valleys of the Yonne and the Cure downstream from Auxerre to Avallon. The French specialise in pretty tree lined river valleys and these were no exception. Sadly the road briefly became busy with heavy traffic which got worse around Avallon. If you thought Avallon was something out of King Arthur or even a Brian Ferry song then you are mistaken. Truck suck is scant consolation for having forty foot artics flying by. Indeed, thinking about it again, the suck and the blow must eventually cancel each other out otherwise all the trucks would end up in the same corner of France.
But my subject is hills and the pity of hills. After Avallon the traffic eased but the road went up and down relentlessly. There was nothing massive, just flog up, hurtle down, then repeat. The whole thing was made more than tolerable though by the lush Burgundian countryside, with the section between Pouilly-en-Auxois and Bligny-sur-Ouche outstanding. From Bligny it is just over 10k to Beaune and I was counting down the k's. I had forgotten about Hill of the Day. It turned up unexpectedly, just like the Spanish Inquisition, just 9km from the finish and 675m (1700 feet or so) according to the gps. Still it was a cracking descent down into Beaune.
Beaune is a pleasant place with the Hospice and Hotel-Dieu being the main architectural attractions. But what everyone except me is after is the wine. Caves and degustations abound. I confess to a fine glass of Beaune Premier Cru with dinner. Dinner was in yet another traditional hotel salle a manger. I was delighted to be one of the younger diners amongst the predominantly French clientele. I was concerned that my shorts and flip flops might attract disapproval. Luckily there were two Americans who beat me into a cocked hat on inappropriate attire. I was also surprised that they allowed a customer into the dining room with a dog. It was a small animal and was carried in what appeared to be a purpose built dog bag. I assume it was a live dog. There was only its head sticking out and I didn't see it move.
Time on the bike gives an opportunity for reflection which I have largely spurned. I spent most of the morning singing "Ca plane pour moi" a song by Plastic Bertrand, a formerly famous Belgian. I only know two lines and the second is "ooh ee aah". You must let me sing it for you sometime. Co-ordination has never been my strong suit but the last 5k into Beaune did not involve pedalling so I could think better, mostly about not running into stuff at 40mph. I also thought about the pilgrimage lark and the indulgences. Just because I won't get an indulgence from this doesn't mean I am prevented from dishing them out to other people. Not to put too fine a point on it I will be passing through parts of Europe where religious practices are less than sophisticated. If I bull up the pilgrim thing I might be able to sell a few indulgences to the locals and defray some of the cost of the event. You can get those scallop shells from most restaurants. Sackcloth is harder to come by in these days of man made fibres and obviously not as practical as Lycra. Holy relics? I must have passed more bones than you can shake a stick at, road kill mostly but who's to know. I will give it further thought tomorrow.
The bottom line is another 150k done but still a long way to go.
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