9-8-2010 Wet in the Auvergne, part Deux

Today, we took a strange day ride from Clermont, hoping to ride some of the nicest roads in the area. The photo in the blog title above, the one with the green hills and blue sky and cows? That was what we wanted to show Bob and Jan; that photo was taken in this area but on another trip, one where we had much better weather.

You see, we're in an area of ancient cinder cones and lava domes which spring from the ground in softly rounded cone shapes. A few of the taller ones have roads that wind to the top and are popular with weekend bikers, such as Puy de Dome just south of Clermont. This puy (pronounced pwee), is so high it has a communication station on top, near a gallo-roman temple to the god Mercury.




The road leads straight into the fog...

  Unfortunately the weather is not cooperating, and we spend most of our ride looking for ways to avoid riding through rain or fog on wet and slick roads. We started out heading for Puy de Dome; from a few miles away we could see the thick cloud cap at the top. A quick on-the-fly itinerary change and we're heading towards Mont Dore and La Bourboule instead; part way up we quickly change our minds again when we run into a dense bank of fog rolling towards us.

Up ahead the road is obscured in minutes and we make a quick u-turn, take a few minutes to admire the gorgeous and intensely green country side below us then head back down. We met a pair of British bikers riding BMW GS's who had come through the area we were trying to ride; they described a wet and slippery road and said they had almost gone down a couple times. That does it - Time to find some lunch. Let's head for the sun...


We stopped in St Nectaire for lunch after browsing the menu of a nearby restaurant. I was determined to have one of my favorite regional specialities - Aligot! It has to rank up there in the world's best comfort foods, it has all the important ingredients: mashed potatoes and stretchy melted cheese. Local lore says that a properly made dish of aligot should stretch several feet when a forkfull is pulled from the bowl. Add a side of country bread, local grilled sausage and a beautiful French green salad and you have one of my favorite meals!




Bob, about to enjoy his first., chewy fork-full of Aligot!

We are getting a little tired of the frustrating weather,so after a group conference, (in which we all consulted our weather apps on our IPads), we decided that it wasn't worth hanging round Clermont waiting for the weather to change. If we head south we should be able to catch some sun and good riding. Tomorrow we are off again to find the sun, taking the opportunity to hit the back roads to a small town called Brive-La-Gaillard. It's a nice little town, not touristy, but a pleasant place to hang out for a few days. More importantly, there is some good riding and sightseeing in this area.

Brive is located only about 75 miles south west of Clermont in the Corrèze department, but the character of the countryside changes to present a lovely area of rolling hills and roads with sweeping curves just perfect for the GTS's, ancient villages and ruined castles perched on 8 out of 10 hilltops. (or so it seems). In the medieval period, this region was in almost constant conflict with the English, so many towns developed as Bastides - fortified towns with castles and thick walls surrounding the city. Some of these towns survive to this day though many of the defensive towers and castles lay in ruins.











9-7-2010 Wet in the Auvergne

After a few nice days of riding, it's raining. I mean really pouring. The hotel we stayed in last night is full tonight, so earlier this morning, we were obliged to pack up and search for another hotel in the rain. For some reason, the town we're in, Clermont-Ferrand, is almost totally full...

It's a good opportunity to do some work though we have been holed up in a tiny room so small that to turn around in the capsule-sized bathroom, you have to step out of it first. Well, ok, that's an exaggeration, but it really is small. At 37 euros, it's pretty darn cheap though...

We are in a beautiful area of France, just south of smack dab in the middle of France, in Auvergne. It's a lovely green country with rolling hills and ancient villages built of stone. We took back roads from Paris yesterday, winding down through vast fields of golden corn and nodding sunflowers, their huge heads turning brown, and endless pastures full of cows.

We rode through the area called Morvan in the Burgundy region; the weather was fairly cool and the sky threatening. We made a stop in the small hilltop village of Vezelay to see the 11th century abbey dedicated to Mary Magdalene.

You may have heard of the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela, or read about it in some of my past stories. To remind you, the pilgrimage routes started in the middle ages when people would set off walking halfway across the continent to do penance or affirm their faith by trekking towards the northwestern corner of Spain. The final destination was to be Santiago de Compostela, the supposed final resting place of Saint James, one of the apostles of Jesus. There were many stops along the way to visit churches and shrines, and a network of pilgrimage inns were established. The route is still trekked to this day, and the pilgrim is easily identified by the staff and backpack they carry, usually adorned with a scallop shell which is the symbol of Saint James.

Vezelay became one of the starting points in France of the pilgrimage route, when a monk named Baudillon brought some bones purported to be those of Mary Magdalene. In 1058, the pope confirmed that the bones were genuine. Since it is now well known that most of the relics touted as saintly remains were ancient scams it is debatable whether the bones are really hers. In any case, the confirmation was important to Vezelay as it brought prosperity to the town from the many pilgrims that started flowing through the abbey.

Nowadays, the church is fairly quiet except for a few tourists and some bikers (us!) that have taken refuge from the rain that is starting to fall. 

In the hushed grey interior of the abbey, the ceilings arch high over head and light spills in through windows set high in the walls. The great age of the building is clear from the naivete of the carvings which top the columns. These curious carvings seem to detail various tortures awaiting sinners in the afterlife.