Forty Miles Before the Storm

July 23, 2013

     I write this as a massive storm is about to attack Caunes-Minervois.  There were major storms in the north of France two days ago, causing major flooding in Caen, with main streets knee-deep in water.  Bob and Annabelle Thorp just gave me a candle, candlestick and matches.  The power will go out during storms, so taking precautions is absolutely necessary, including removing objects off the terrace light enough to fly away.

     The storm will clear the air, which has been heavy since mid-morning.  The weather forecast (the mèteo) said that you could call the conditions a "heat wave" when the evening temperatures remained as high or nearly, as the day's.  Indeed, in Paris, there has been a heat wave.  The hot weather is expected to last through the beginning of next week.

     Which did not keep the Caunes-Minervois Cycling Club from meeting this morning at 7:30 a.m.  There were six of us: Claude, the president, Patrice, the secretary, Georges, Jean (who lent me Josette's bicycle), Jeannot and me.  Today would be a day on the flats.

     What I did not realize was that it would be forty miles on the flats.  We went in the direction of Béziers towards the end so that we could pedal along a short section of the Canal du Midi and an allée nearby.  No one seems to need to drink water, and stopping briefly, those that have energy bars eat them.

     I am able to hold my own until the end.  I realize how much my hands are used in this kind of long-distance cycling: on the fast downhills, the bicycle needs to be controlled.  On the upward pushes, the bicycle needs to be kept from wobbling.  Leaning over the handlebars, the brakes are more accessible than reaching across the bottom of the dropped handlebars, but the muscles of the hand that reach have to be steady.  When it is necessary to drink, the water bottle has to be pulled out from the bottom of the bicycle frame.  I consider it a step forward that yesterday I was able to drink and ride one-handed simultaneously.  Today, I repeat the action several times, gripping the bicycle with my left hand, the weaker, while I drink with the right.

     These men, considerably older than I am, can do all these things, and they have the kidneys of camels.   I find out from Bob later that Patrice was a miner at a nearby gold mine, now closed.  Claude --whose grip is vise-like, is an olive grower.  Everyone is used to hard physicial labor.

     I almost spoil the trip by having a flat tire, thanks to a thorn that embeds itself in my inner tube.  Fortunately, Jeannot is with me.  He gets off his bicycle, wonders where the rest of the group is, and proceeds to pull off my front wheel, then pry off the tire to reach the inner tube.   In the course of doing so, one of his plastic levers breaks.  I don't have an inner tube, so he puts his own in.

     I immediately offer to buy him another.

     Ne vous inquietez pas, c'est un club, on est solide.  (Don't worry about it, we're a club, we help each other.)

     George, Jean, Claude and Patrice show up and help with the last touches to the bicycle wheel, Patrice taking the wheel and putting it back easily.  He can put gears on a bicycle, and is always looking for new parts dealers online to do any work on the bicycle himself.  No one is put out by my puncture.  It's taken care of, and we ride on to the Canal du Midi.  As we are passing it, Georges tells me that the club members had decided that if I could not keep up, they would throw me in.

     By the time we reach Notre Dame du Cros at the outskirts of Caunes, I have to get off the bicycle and walk a bit. Claude comes back for me, and I find Jean waiting for me.  (Jeannot left earlier and Georges lives in Trausse, a town on the way back.)  They make sure I get home, but not before shaking my hand and telling me I did quite well on the new cycle and I will only get better as I learn how it works.  (And there was no need to throw me in the Canal.)