Thursday, July 9-War and Races

We slept in today!  Didn't need to be in the lobby until 8:30 am!  Sally and I left the hotel and wander the streets in search of a bakery. Typical of France, we found one within a block. The apple pasties and blueberry crumb cake look irresistible. We took enough back to the lobby to cover for us all. 

The peace museum in Caen was our destination, with an opening at 9:00 am. We were just over half an hour away. With pastry filled tummies and smiling faces we ducked out of the pay parking lot at 8:45am while the gates were open; they come down at nine, and then you have to pay to get your car out. 

We enjoyed driving the French countryside, seeing the fields and rolling hills on our way to the museum in Caen. 

The peace museum was initiated by the mayor of Caen, a young man during the war and dedicated ever after to the prevention of war through enlightenment and education. It recounts the world incidents that brought on World War II and the psychology of human kind.  After entering, you follow a ramp the spirals downward as it recounts the events from the end of WWI to the beginning of WWII, as if you are descending into hell.  It is a fascinating museum and we all throughly enjoyed it.     

We grabbed a quick lunch at the cafe in the museum, then boarded our now trustworthy Renault and Fiat and headed toward Hanfluer. Our goal was to get into our B&B by 3:00 pm, jump in the cars by 3:30 pm and drive the 40 minutes to Le Havre to watch the end of stage six of the Tour de France.  

Le Havre is an industrial port just across the mouth of the Seine from Honfluer, a picturesque small harbor town. We entered Honfluer to find it jammed with tourists eating in the sidewalk cafes, touring the shops and walking the narrow streets. We creeped along at five miles per hour, dodging pedestrians and negotiating the very narrow streets. Having run the gauntlet of cobblestones, we found a parking lot and walked to our AirB&B. Sophie was a few minutes late, but quickly showed us up the extremely tight spiral staircase to our attic space room in a 300 year old building. It was wonderful!!  Slanted roofs, two bedrooms a workable kitchen and located right in the middle of Honfluer. My resolve to leave this beautiful town and our quint lodgings dissolved. But, Tabitha really wanted to see the Tour de France and we had all agreed to this activity, so we bid our charming seaside town full of cafes and music and flowers and began our drive over the Siene to downtown La Havre. 

La Havre was bombed out of existence during WWII whereas Honfluer was untouched. Le Havre had wide streets and a busy port; a city built for cars. Honfluer, on the other hand, was built before the car so the streets were narrow and the buildings old and quaint. 

I thought our chances of seeing the Tour were close to zero. The riders were scheduled to come into Le Havre between 5:10 and 5:25 pm and it was nearly 4:00 pm when we left Honfluer. I expected traffic jams and closed streets, gridlock and frustration. My prophecy appeared to be true. We pulled out of the parking in Honfluer and immediately were stopped in traffic, unmoving for ten minutes. The drawbridge over the port waterway was up and all traffic was stopped. Once the bridge was down, we were able to zip out of Honfluer, cross the Seine via a miles long toll bridge and head west for downtown Le Havre.  

As we approached town, signs for Tour de France parking guided us smoothly to a large parking lot. We headed off in what we thought was the right direction, but soon found someone with broken English that spun us 180° and got us on the right course. The purser at the train station told us it was another 10 minute walk to the front of the Hotel de Ville. We hoofed it down the wide sidewalk. We could tell we were getting close. The sounds of a large crowd, loud speakers blaring and a parade of sorts signaled we were at the right place. 

The path the riders would take was barricaded off, and a procession of cars and trucks with company logos whizzed past, throwing trinkets to the crowd. I grabbed a Tour de France rubber bracelet from the ground. The Jumbotron screen showed the riders were still 43 Km away, meaning we had an hour to settle into the festivities. 

The security personnel would occasionally open the barricade and let pedestrians cross the street. With 18 Km left, I crossed the street to buy some flags at the booth. They were out of small flags, but I got a big yellow one, then tried to return to our group on the other side of the racecourse. Nothing doing. The riders were now too close, so I was stuck on the opposite side of the street. This turned out to be excellent. I now had the sun at my back and could take pictures of the riders and my family across the street, well lit and camera ready. The noise was deafening, but we could use texting to communicate. 

The riders zoomed by us, right on que. The crowd went crazy, pictures and video shot, and then it was all over. The Jumbotron broadcast of the race began the post race analysis and we enjoyed the crowd, bought some race periphinalia and started our walk back to the cars. 

We stopped at a mall called "The Docks" at a supermarket. The food prices were very low. We stocked up with groceries for breakfast and lunch at Versailles tomorrow. 

Trusting to Apple Maps and GPS to get us home, we were led down by the industrial docks and truck routes. We questioned the route as we wove through the city, but we ended up exactly where we needed to be. Using GPS lets you see areas of towns you might never enter. 

We arrived back at our flat, drug our luggage up and then headed to town for a dinner out. We found a great dockside place to celebrate Andy's 33rd birthday and had a wonderful meal. About 10:30 pm we headed back and settled in for the night. 

What a great day.   

Catching Up

Whoa!  Have I gotten behind in my blogging or what!?!  Doing to much and too tired at the end of the day are my twin excuses. I think they are true and accurate excuses, but my apologies. Here is a quick summary:

Sunday. We took the train from Versailles to Paris and met Jeff and Jackie at the Notre Dame Cathedral.  Walked the Seine to our B&B, went out to lunch, then they slept off the flight while I searched out a grocery store on a Sunday (all of Paris still takes Sunday's off). We finished the day with dinner and metro ride to the Eiffel Tower and a walk back. Our B&B is on the 7th floor (top) with the slanted roof. Two bedroom flat with kitchen. Super funky and cool. 

Monday. Our guidebook said the Picasso Museum was open, so we Metro'd over and walked to the musseè to find it closed. Went to the Orangerie to enjoy Monet's Lillies. Sally and I found them amazing. Jackie and Jeff thought otherwise. Enjoyed art in rest of the gallery. Returned to flat. Sally napped while J, J and I walked across town to buy museum passes. Dinner in he flat. I was super tired, so retired at 8:30 for a gray sleep.

Tuesday. Took train to Versailles to meet Andy and Tabitha. They met us at the train station in Versailles. Walked to the car rental at the nearby Chaterilles station, then spent the rest of the day driving to Mont St. Michel. Took the shuttle bus out to the island for dinner about 8:30pm. Enjoyed the town on the evening. Stayed at the Vert Hotel. 

Wednesday:  At the bus station at 7:45. Caught first bus to the island. Only ones on the bus. Found a oriental couple trying to take what looked like wedding photos on the approach to the island. Offered to shoot pics for them. Couldn't  verbally communicate, but had a get photo session with them with lots of smiles. 

Toured the island by ourselves and got the first tour off the Abbey at 9:00 am. Blown away by its awesomeness, again. 

Jackie has a sinus infection and need some medications, so we googled a pharmacie in a nearby town. Arrived to find a street fair in progress. Got her cough drops and ate local produce, cheeses, dishes and baguettes. Drove to US WWII cemetery. Had a somber visit. Next was Omaha beach where Sally's dad came ashore on D-Day +5.  Lastly, we drove to Point Du Hoc to see gun emplacements and bomb craters where the Rangers scaled the cliffs. Drove to Arromarches to stay on the beach at Marine Hotel. Dinner at local restaurant, El Bistro. Good, lots and cheap. Great combination. All exhausted and in separate rooms. Sleep by 9:30pm.   

Battle of the Bikes

When NASA puts a spaceship such as the Shuttle into orbit, they must be very careful to head it off in the exact , correct trajectory. Once you expend all the fuel required to accelerate it to the 17,000 miles per hour required to achieve orbit, you cannot change its path of travel.  Each mission has a specific goal. When it is done, you must land the Shuttle, refuel, and launch in a new trajectory for a new mission. We are finding our trip to Europe mimics these traits of a shuttle mission. One launch, one mission. We are fighting the laws of physics in trying to accomplish two missions at once, touring Paris with our kids and riding the Rhine route on bikes. We are expending huge amounts of energy negotiating the trajectory of our bikes and their accompanying boxes through the trains, subways, and hotels of Paris and its surroundings.

I would try to describe all the focus of attention we have expelled in trying to figure out how to get the bikes from the Versailles B&B to Versailles hotel to Paris B&B to Paris train station but I would run out of memory in my iPad.  Somehow, figuring how to move two bike boxes and two bikes through a crowded city on public transportation has presented us with an "adventure". 

We got the bikes from the airport to the B&B via private shuttle service, in their boxes. We unboxed them at the B&B in Versailles and I was tempted to throw the boxes away, but did not. It is a good thing, because the only way we can transport our bikes on French trains is in boxes. 

We were up at 5:00am today and on the 6:00 am train to Saint Lazare station in Paris. From their, we took a metro subway to Gare de Lyon train station to inquire about tickets and transporting our bikes. First, we talked to a worker on the train platform. He said "No problem in taking our bikes on the trains, as long as they are in boxes. His English was broken, but we could easily understand him and enjoyed his good humor. We proceeded to the ticketing and information office. Here, we were told the only way to transport the bikes was with a special bag we could purchase at a sport shop. The people was rude, short and ill tempered. Undaunted, we tried to show them the website we had looked at the night before that said "New!: Bikes on trains!"  They dismissed the site and insisted on special bags. We scratched our heads over this one, then walked out to the platform where a high speed train was boarding. We talked to the conductor-or the French equivalent. He said boxes were fine. Just stow them in the luggage area or in the aisle if they would not fit. hmmm . . . .  Who to believe. We inquired at the information office and they said bikes were fine, as long as they are boxed or bagged. As we were leaving the info office we saw a gentleman pushing his bike out the station door. We caught up to him. He had a purchased ticket with bicycle on the ticket. He paid an extra €10 for his bike to have a seat. But, he said that service only went to a few select cities, such as Lyon, his destination. 

At this point we decided we would bring our bikes to the station in boxes and just board our train as if it was the normal thing to do, as there is no consistent policy. All the workers on the platform said no problem. Since hat is who will see us bring the bikes to the trains, w will go with their interpretation of the rules. 

Although we had been at it quite a while, it was only 9:15am. Getting up and out early pays dividends. We caught a metro to the Rue Cler area and strolled this iconic French market shopping street, enjoying the fresh fruits and vegetables, meats and other open air shops. 

We enjoyed a sumptuous chicken omelet at €1.50, watching people walk the rue as we slowly ate. 

We headed for the Champs de Mars park at the foot at the Eiffle Tower and were surprised to see horses being led down the street. We soon realized there was a horse jumping competition with the world leaders in horse jumping. Jumbo monitors, cameras suspended from wires, grandstands, formal white linen tables for dining under sparkling white tents and an air of "Downton Abbey" pervaded the area. We were spot on to watch the competition, so we found a place in the stands. I think it is safe to say we watched the wealthiest families from each country compete in what can only be called a very rich man's sport. Dressed in white riding attire each rider rode his beautiful mount over the jumps, trying to do so without knocking off a bar and to do so in the quickest time. 

We laughed at ourselves sitting in the stands. We had no idea this was going on before we arrived, yet we enjoyed the riders, horses, amazing tournament setting and air of importance and wealth the riders and announcers conveyed with each contestant. I felt like Ferris Bueller sitting in the stands-someplace I was not supposed to be. 

After a dozen riders, we decided to leave and continue our day by walking to Napolean's Tomb. I had been reading a biography of Napoleon, so I was anxious to see his tomb. I was not ready for the ornate spectacle the French constructed to honor this native son (sort of, he was born on Corsica, a French protectorate in the Mediterranean). No expense was spared in creating a 14' high casket surrounded by sculptures and wall reliefs, not to mention the ornate dome towering 100s of feet above. 

The tomb in on the site of a military complex built by Napolean, part of which contains a museum dedicate to the wars. 

We cruised quickly through the war museum, feeling obligated to see it, but not interested in the details of man's history of self slaughter.   

It was 93° outside, punishingly hot.

We made our way to the nearest Metro station and began to retrace our route back to Anne's B&B in Versailles. 

Along the way the discussion continued as to how we could get bikes and boxes from Versailles to Gare de Lyon. We stepped off the train about 5:30 pm and stopped at a business marked "Casino".  Much to Sally's disappointment we found it to be a grocery store. We stocked up for a dinner of Taboule, lettuce, shredded carrots, chicken and bread. 

We relaxed and showered, the hid in our cool basement room. We came up to make dinner and enjoyed it on the patio in the shady backyard. No one else was home, so we had the house to ourselves. 

In the hours before we went to sleep, we tussled with the bike and box transport problem some more, making calls to hotels, taxi services and rail yards. We went to bed with the idea we would just take the bikes fully assembled and have Andy, Jeff et. all, take the boxes on the train from Versailles, walk them from the Notre Dame station to our B&B on Isle é St. Louis and then walk them to Gard de Lyon and disassemble them, box them and put them on the trail to Switzerland when the time came.   About 4 in the morning I woke up and realized on a Saturday the Versailles train is packed and the bikes and boxes would be a super annoyance to the packed riders. By 6:30 am and 4 more phone calls (thank you Skype!) we settled on riding the bikes, first to Versailles on Friday, then to Isle è St. Louis on Saturday and bring the boxes on the train. 

Perhaps you are thinking, "What a hassle these bikes are! It can't be worth it!!"  At times I lapse toward this conclusion, but them my lovely, smiling and always upbeat wife reminds me, "The difference between an ordeal and an adventure is ATTITUDE!"  Like NASA does with each,  launch, we are having a great adventure. 

Arrival in Paris

Friday, July 3, 2015

On Thursday we flew from Vancouver to Toronto, had a 1.5 hour layover and then boarded a 777 for Paris. 7.5 hours later we landed in Paris. The clock said 8:30am Friday, but my body said 11:30PM Thursday. The bright sun convinced me I should be awake, so with minimal discomfort we retrieved our bike boxes from oversized luggage, tied them to a airport hand cart and exited the baggage area. 

I scanned the crowd looking for someone holding a sign with our name. You see, good fortune again came knocking disguised as bad fortune. When Sally's knee and back flared up a week ago we decided not to ride from Charles de Gaulle airport to Versailles. To give her knee a chance to heal we opted for a taxi/van to transport us to our Air B&B. Good thing we did!  It was 97°. We would have roasted during the 33 mile bike ride. 

A man holding papers asked if I was Chuck Caley. I said "yes", realizing he identified me by the bike boxes I was pushing. 

We loaded into his van and sloshed our way through heavy traffic across Paris to Versailles. We arrived at the B&B and surprised Anne, our host. She had not received our email declaring our early arrival time. However, she was welcoming and we soon had our massive bike boxes and other bags in her yard. 

Luckily, our room is in the basement. It was cool whereas the rest of the house was swelteringly hot. Sally retired to the inviting bed to sleep while I unboxed the bikes and assembled them. I succumbed to the need for sleep at 1:30 and slept until 3:30. We both wanted to stretch our legs on our bikes and discover how riding the streets of Paris fairs. In a nutshell, we found the drivers to be accommodating even though the traffic was very heavy with Friday rush hour. Our biggest adversary was the heat. Riding up long hills in 97° weather made us rethink our plans of riding to Versailles Palace. We turned around, stopped at a grocery store for some dinner makings and returned to our room. Cool showers and researching how to get our bikes to Switzerland  occupied our afternoon and early evening. We walked to the nearby Bougival Train Station to plot our time and route into downtown Paris for tomorrow. The temperature had dropped to 95° (it was 9:00pm!). Dinner of a tabolee, lettuce, carrot and chicken salad with some (wait for it . . . .  . French bread)) and we were ending our day. We joined Anne's dinner party for some quick conversation and then back to the basement for showers, more planning and finally, some sleep. It is Paris tomorrow.  

Indigo Montoya

Tuesday, June 30, 2015  -  2 days until departure

“Hallo.  My name is Indigo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die.”

Most of us are familiar with this oft repeated phrase from the movie “The Princess Bride”.  However, Indigo utters another quote while the masked man climbs the Cliffs of Insanity. It has been going through my head all morning, “I hate waiting.”

We are ready to go.  The bikes are disassembled and in their boxes. Carry-on bags are devoid of knifes, excessive fluid ounces and sharp objects. Money belts are secured around our waists.  Unfortunately, it is only Tuesday.  We fly out Thursday.  I hate waiting.

Always a concern is leaving your house empty for an extended period of time. Last year, the principal of Toledo High School, Martin Huffman, stayed in our house while we hiked the PCT. Of course, that trip was during the school year, April, May and June.  Martin does not need a summer place. But, fortune has smiled upon us again.

Warning!! Nerdy history lesson approaching!! Proceed with caution!

Louis IVX of France channeled a considerable chunk of 17th century France’s GDP into building the ultimate governing palace in Versailles.  This opulent, sprawling palace became the governing center of France, and the envy of all European Monarchs of the time. The court moved out of the Tuileries in Paris and governed from Versailles for the next 100 years. By the time Louis the XVI took over, the palace was a center of intrigue, ritual and hangers-on.  19 year old Marie Antoinette, Louis the XVI’s queen, wanted to escape the everyday craziness of Louis and the court of Versailles, so she frequented the Petite Trianon, a smaller version of the palace built in the decade before she was crowned queen. It is not far from the grand palace, less than a ten minute walk.  Here she found the solitude and quiet she sought.

Although the scale and grandeur is slightly reduced, we have a similar situation here in Toledo. Kenny and Mary Shipp built a magnificent house next to us in 2005.  It has a footprint about 3 times the size of ours. We often joke that we live in the caretaker’s cottage for the estate house next door.

"There was never a child so lovely, but his mother was glad to get him asleep."
          -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sara and Jen are staying with Mary and Kenny for the coming months. Oh yes, and so is newborn and incredibly cute Charlie Jean. The musings of Emerson suggest that one or more of those four will need to pull a Marie Antoinette and visit the "Petite Trianon" next door for an evening of solitude and quiet. Thus, our house is occupied this summer. Thank you Shipp's and Zea's for staying in our house this summer.

Today, we moved with quiet deliberation as we slowly completed items on our list of to dos before we could leave. By 6 o'clock, our list was exhausted. We loaded bike boxes and bags into the van and headed north to Sammamish for a night's stay at Jeff and Jackie's. Jackie met us in the street as we pulled into the guest parking area at twilight.  After a nice visit, we all retired to our beds for the night. We are on our way.  The waiting is over.

PCT - Europe - Similar yet Different

We feel a bit like the kids we met on the PCT last year - those that showed up at the southern terminus with zero hiking experience. Sure we have biked a lot. Around town.  Day trips. Rails to trails routes.  But, overnight tours?  One.  Five years ago.  On the Centennial trail in Idaho.

Are we worried about our lack of bike touring experience?  Not really. We have tons of hiking and camping experience. We are good at navigation. I can repair a bike in the field from flat tires to errant shifters to stuck brakes.  Our 91 day experience on the PCT last spring prepared us for long term travel using minimal equipment with lots of interaction with people on the trail and in the trail towns. We feel ready for this.

The "stuff" we are bringing for this trip is extremely similar to that which we took on the PCT. I packed up today and weighed in at 20 pounds. Tent, down quilt, sleeping pads, pots and stove, iPad, chargers, water bottles, 1st Aid Kit, and clothing are the same.  Instead of a 3 pound bear can I have a 3 pound cable and bike lock to protect my gear. Trekking poles are traded for spare inner tubes, tire patch kits, a multitool and a crescent wrench. The similarities between the two trips are remarkable. If we have an experience comparable to the PCT, we are in for a treat.

We are 6 days from our flight.  We leave from Vancouver BC Thursday morning at 10:30am, arriving in Paris, France Friday morning at 8:30am. We will spend until July 14 in Paris, Versailles, Mont St. Michele, and Normandy with Andy, Jeff, Tabitha and Jackie before we take a train to Luzern, Switzerland to meet with Roger and Marlis, a couple we met in Yosemite two years ago.  We will visit with them for a day, then board a train for Oberalpass, Switzerland and begin our bike ride to the North Sea via the Rhine River.

Last year, the months leading up to our April 7th departure were spent packing the 91 days of food we would need for our trip.  This time, we outfitted our bikes with new components, tires and cables. My bike is 25 years old, Sally's about 12. They each were in need of modernizing and updating. They are now ready to go.  So are we.

There are a few more jobs to complete, but we will take time to visit and swim with Cindy Garrison in Olympia this Saturday and take a trip to Long Beach to see the progress occurring on the Caldwell beach house.

Attached is a photo of my gear and clothing for 2 months in Europe on a bike and a time lapse video of packing it into panniers, loading it on my bike and riding off.   

On to San Diego - Monday, April 20

Slept in a bit at Sue and Bill’s, then packed up the van and slipped away, headed toward San Diego via the Sultan Sea and Julian. We had texted Derek and Kaitlin, friends of Sally’s sister, Wendy, yesterday after Sally thought she recognized them at the bottom of Mt. San Jacinto while waiting for Dave and I.  They were just south of Julian, and were expecting to be in town today.  Our plan was to rendezvous with them, take them to lunch and then deliver them back to the PCT, about 15 miles east of town.

We made a quick stop for pops before entering highway 10 east.  We exited 10 onto hwy 86, cruising next to the Salton Sea, a huge salt water body.  It was a thriving vacation spot, so I was told, until the fish in the lake died off. Now the area is run down.
We passed many, many agricultural fields growing Palm Trees, fruits and nuts.  We turned onto hyw 78, continuing our desert drive.  The Ocotillo were not quite in bloom, but many flowers were.  We stopped for some pictures.

The PCT intersects the road at Scissors Crossing.  We passed by about noon, expecting to see a few PCT hikers. We were prepared to give lifts to Julian, but saw no one.  We continued on to Juian and went straight to the Sheriff’s office to visit Jackie, the trail angel that opened the bathroom and conference room for us last year.  We found her sitting at her desk.  She looked up and Sally asked her, “Is there some place we can get some water?”  She started to point out the drinking fountain as she had last year, then recognized us, let out a squeal of recognition and scurried from her desk and through the side door to give us a hug.  We talked for an hour and found her to be as kind, engaging and thoughtful as we remembered.  Turns out she is retiring this December 31st.  Her and Irene are moving to Wisconsin as soon as they sell their desert place outside Julian. We mentioned that no one was leaving water for the PCT  hikers at Scissor’s Crossing anymore. She declared she would enjoy taking over that responsibility and would look into it.

We left Jackie and drove around the block, parking up the street from Mom’s Place, where free pies and drinks are given to PCT hikers.  We looked inside for Derek and Kaitlin. Their most recent text said they were grocery shopping but we thought we might check the pie place.  We found them in the corner grocery store, resupplying for the next leg of their hike.  Via text, Wendy agreed to buy their resupply and lunch.  With grocery bags in hand, we headed back to Mom’s for lunch. 

Both Derek and Kaitlin looked great and were really enjoying the hike.  Scissor’s is at mile 77, yet neither were sore nor had blisters.  

After lunch, we drove them back to Scissor’s Crossing. Kaitlin was a bit nervous about getting back on the trail, but Derek’s enthusiasm soon had her smiling and ready to go. They each were carrying 6 liters of water for the dry stretch ahead.

Sally and I again headed west on 78, Oceanside north of San Diego our goal.  We arrived after dark and sought out a place to park the van for the night.  I had called the Walmart in Oceanside about sleeping in their lot, but they said they did not allow overnight parking and directed us to a Superstore just a few miles away.  We pulled into the proffered Walmart, drew the curtains and settled in, about 8:30.  I stayed up to type the blog while Sally fell asleep on the bed.  About 10:30 pm someone knocked on our door.  I parted the curtains to see a cute hispanic girl in a security uniform looking uneasily at me.  She told me we could not camp for the night at this Walmart and that we should leave before the next guard came on duty as he was mean.  I asked where we could sleep for the night.  She said the next Walmart east did not have security guards and we could sleep there.  I pulled back the curtains so I could drive and quickly traversed town to the next Walmart.

We parked, drew the shades and soon fell asleep, half expecting another knock on our windows; but it never came.  We slept through the night and awoke to overcast skies.