Tired But Happy in Bordeaux

We find our bikes in St Emillion, and after a lunch of tartines we hop on our bikes and cycle thru the vineyards and forests of Bordeaux. We are not racing to be ahead of the Tour, so we ride at a leisurely pace, stopping to admire a view or take a picture. Gorgeous little roads - what they call a small road we would call a gravel driveway. 

Almost no traffic, ancient villages, stone chateaus. And wineries. Maybe you’ve heard of this one?

The hills are small; we race up them. I’m feeling strong. And so happy! It is sunny, there is a light breeze, not a car in sight (or a Col, thank God) and we can chat as we pedal along. We laugh, we tell stories, we point out the sights.

In the late afternoon we watch the end of the Tour in a lovely wine bar in St Emillion, with champagne and delicious wines and platters and platters of tasty morsels -  smoked salmon, foie gras, tapenade, salamis and cheeses, mozarella and the sweetest tomatoes. After all, this IS a B&R trip, and we hadn’t eaten in at least an hour! Gotta keep our strength up. When you’re training for your B&R adventure be sure to train in the eating and drinking as well. It can be tough to keep up!

In the wine bar there is the most adorable 8 year old boy. He is curious about the US, about us, about what we think of France, about who we like in the Tour. Fanny translates, we bond. He wants to visit the US; I want to adopt him. His mother, the restaurant owner, has other ideas. Oh well.

Hotel Grand Barrail. Oh yeah. 

No biting bugs (we were afraid they would come with us from the Roach Hotel, and B&R would be booted out of this fancy hotel. So far so good.) Our room is the entire tower. A bathtub the size of a cruise ship. 

Our own private espresso machine. Acres of space - there is room for all our luggage and us. The lap of luxury. We unpack to organize; we have been pulling things out by the sleeve and leaving wads of clothing trailing out that gets stuffed back into the suitcase - no room to open - and things are a mess.

It looks like a bomb went off in our room, but it’ s so big we don’t care - we just kick the stuff into the corners and after a long soak in the tub collapse on the bed. Tired and Happy. 

At dinner Annik yells "The Tour de France caravan is coming by! Come outside!" We do, and find Fanny on a bike on top of the B&R van flinging bike jerseys about. 

If George could see her now!

Tomorrow: The Time Trial, the race of truth. And meet the players, our fellow travelers.

The Tour de France

Riding the Tour de France with B and R seemed like a good idea when we signed up. We would have the winter and spring to get in shape, John was having a significant birthday (it rhymes with heavenly, sort of), and he was planning a big European birthday bash. So we made hotel reservations and bought plane tickets.

Then his grandchildren's mother said no thanks to an all-expenses-paid European vacation (I know, I know, you're not the first to say "Adopt me! I have cute kids!") so John and Pam will head home after the ride. But we're still doing the ride.

I suppose I should confess that we had had several bottles of excellent red wine when we got this Tour de France brainstorm. I should also confess that in the wet and cold of winter as we were drinking more red wine instead of riding we rationalized: "We can get in shape in the spring." That was the red wine talking. And in April when we were just beginning to rack up some longer rides interrupted by lavish lunches we rationalized that we still had two months...

Or not. I spent all of June in bed coughing and sniffing and wheezing and sleeping. Finally got drugs and swelled up like a big purple grape. An itchy purple grape. I won't pass the drug test because of the steroids I took to quell the rash, and I'm not any faster. And did I mention we are the oldest people on this trip by about a hundred and twelve years? But at least I'm not itchy and purple. And we're here, ready or not, to ride the B&R version of the Tour de France.

So we will be riding the last week of the Tour including the Col de Tourmalet. As Wally says, "I've never met a hill I can't walk up." I've also never seen him walk up a hill. I, however, have walked up many a hill, whining and swearing and eventually getting back on my bike.

And since in is a Butterfield trip with excellent food and wine, training takes on a new dimension -

You can't eat all that wonderful food and drink all that fantastic wine without training. So we are in training. Tales of adventures, triumphs and tribulations to come. I keep reminding myself the worst experiences make the best memories.And the best stories.