You can have too much excitement. Some people realise this when they are quite young. Indeed there are those who seem to have been born with this insight. We all know who they are. I am still considering both sides of the argument. I mention this because most of today passed off without significant incident. The first 60k or so followed the Saone valley, flat and straight. For reasons already discussed, we don't knock flat. In any case it was still more interesting than the Ile de France. The landscape there was so featureless that there was nowhere to go for a pee; hedges, fences, trees, bushes - nothing. For the first time too today was warm. Gilet and arm warmers were soon removed. The sun shone and the breeze blew on my back. The kilometres flew by. I have changed the gps to kilometres because they go quicker. The gps deserves a further mention. It has been priceless. Navigating from a map would have added a couple of hours to each day. I had to do it for four or five miles today as I had cocked up the route on the computer. There is the odd foible. I had a completely unnecessary detour through a village this morning. But it led me perfectly through the back streets of Beaune yesterday. Sadly they are mostly cobbled. My head was shaking out of time with the bike which made the screen quite hard to read.
Another 106 miles were completed before I arrived at tonight's hotel (pictured). How to describe it? It's a former chateau, a couple of hundred yards outside a village which is no more than a couple of hundred yards itself. It is set in several acres of landscaped and lawned grounds running down to the river Rhone which is about 70 yards wide at this point. It has an avenue of ancient plane trees and several magnificent cedars which must be even older. In the grounds there is a large old stone out building with a spit over an open grate. It has two tennis courts, crazy golf and a boule piste, all with weeds growing through them. There are over 50 bedrooms in the main building and two annexes. I am the only guest.
I arrived, opened the large wooden doors and walked into the stone floored hall. There was no one about. I hit the bell, the sort that goes ping when you hit it, first tentatively then after a couple of minutes with more conviction. No one came. I looked into a couple of rooms. A sort of ballroom in some disarray. A large banqueting room, untouched since last used. The atmosphere was one of activity unexpectedly interrupted. Faded elegance occasionally surfaced above the completely dilapidated. Miss Havisham or Norman Bates? Too soon to tell.
Back out in the sunshine I wandered the grounds for ten minutes or so. Two young women appeared round the corner of the building. They stopped their conversation abruptly when they saw me. One of them took me back inside where she collected a key. She showed me to a door to one of the annexes, told me I was in number 49 at the end of the landing on the first floor. Then she left. The unlit landing led to a tatty but functional bedroom. I realised I was in time for the second half of the England game. There was a TV in the room. It wasn't connected to anything, aerial or plug.
I went back outside. A couple of doors opened to the outside on the ground floor. One was locked but I could see inside a number of bunk beds that looked as if they had come from some sort of institution. The other door was unlocked. I opened it tentatively and went in. It was a large room with half a dozen old chairs scattered around. On a table in the middle of the floor was a half eaten meal, breakfast probably but not today's. Across the room was a large screen tv. I found the remote and sat down. French TV was showing Algeria versus the USA.
Kit washed and showered I emerged to find a man of uncertain age standing by the building opposite. Le Patron. He explained about breakfast and showed me how to operate the massive remote controlled gate. He asked if I would require dinner. I asked if there were any other restaurants nearby. He shrugged and smiled. There was no alternative.
At 8pm sharp I found my place set in the dining room. Monsieur appeared with water and a small jug of wine. There was no menu. As he brought each course the sound of his unseen footsteps on the stone floor rose to a crescendo before he made his appearance and died slowly as he left. I thought I could hear distant voices, female probably, but maybe not. As I returned to my room the last rays of sunshine gave the sandstone cliffs opposite a warm pink glow. I was going to sleep with the door unlocked but you can have too much excitement, can't you?
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