May Day I flew out of Mad to Nantes, France. I got in two hours late. Dad met me at the terminal and I could tell he was tired. We talked a lot on the bus into town, eating sandwiches and drinking tea.In the morning it was drizzling. Even though we got up early (9-ish) it took us a while to get going. By the time we ate and picked up supplies, it was eleven o´clock. I bought us tasty spiced pita and goat cheese from a little lebanese place, ¨manned¨ by a twelve-year old fellow. Pop and I were quite impressed by his mature, yet good-natured demeanor.
Nantes used to have a bustling ship yard but it wound down about a hundred years ago. Now it has a fairly thriving arts scene and is a popular tourist destination, from afar and from within France. We un-hitched our bikes from in front of the train station and took a spin around the little island in the middle of the Loire. There we had a great view of the now defunct port
facilities, the empty docks, and the massive motionless cranes. I told Dad how it reminded me of the miles of cranes along the docks of Oakland. On this little island in the middle of the Loire used to stand the Union halls for the harbor workers. Now, the massive warehouses and meeting halls have been converted into art galleries and community spaces. Inside one such converted warehouse was a giant mechanical elephant, fully articulated and powered by means of a complicated pneumatic system. Round about this time the drizzle let up and we set off pedaling down the D107, along the northern bank of the Loire. Dad kept telling me about this amazing bike path that he had noted on the map, that ran next to the river. It ran the roughly seventy kilometers to St. Nazaire, our destination for the day. We kept passing points where, on the map, the bike path crossed the highway, yet, this path was no where to be seen. The rail line, however, kept mysteriously appearing where the bike path was supposed to be."Dad," I asked time and again, "Are you sure that's the bike trail? I think maybe it's the railway."
"Ah, no, it's the trail! The man at the map store told me about it. He said we could take the D17, almost all the way, too."
"Okay, Pop," I'd say and nod.
Finally, fifty klicks in, I looked at the map legend. The "bike trail" was indeed the rail line. We'd been riding on the trail, concurrent with the D17, all along! I have always known I get my excellent sense of direction (HAH!) from my dear old pop. Our erroneous quest for the bike trail led to many interesting, if circuitous, diversions like this one:
We climbed up a bunch of long hills and rode into Saveney right about nine o'clock. We were beat and it was a holiday but luckily there was an inn open. After a steak dinner (breaking my three-week veg streak) and a couple of pints of tasty, tasty Leffe, Pop and I crashed. I watched some really weird David Bowie movie until I passed out. Bowie played a time traveling alien and I understood nothing because it was all dubbed in French.
The next morning we got up early. The sky was cloudy but quickly cleared and was wonderful the rest of the way. I drank a lot of coffee and ate a ton of food. We kicked off down those big hills and blew across the flats all the way to St. Nazaire. The East side of St. Nazaire is an ugly, ugly place. There's about ten miles of refineries and industrial harbor. I found a sweet radioactive magnet that's about a square foot. It was lying by the side of the road. I suppose it fell off the back of a truck. After a pit stop for more beer, and some conversation over pita and goat cheese by a really gross canal, we set off again. The countryside improved immensely as factories gave way to beach, farms, and resort towns. Our pace was much better the second day: we made fifty kilometers in just three hours. Of course, we still had twenty to go! It was a great feeling when we got to the beach on the West side of St. Nazaire. The last haul to Le Pouliguen went smoothly and when we hit the crescent bay, there were hundreds of kites flying in the sky. Here we are, 110 kM after leaving Nantes:
Mama and Olivia came walking up from the train station right as we were chaining our bikes in front of the hotel. It was great seeing them. We went for a stroll along the beach and ate crepes.
I took a photo from a jetty in the canal leading to the ocean.
The next day we spent being family and walking way too much. We all had to be somewhere Monday, so we caught the train back to Nantes (the line that ran along our "bike path"). After a cab ride from an Iranian cabbie who blasted Chuck Berry, we all found ourselves at an airport hotel. There was no staff, only computers. Everything operated by barcode or credit card. I was really creeped out. That must be what things are like in Japan. My flight left at five a.m. and after a few hours of sleep my whole family walked the five hundred meters to the airport. Olivia and I downed espressos, and recounted our early morning experience with the gigolo at Termini station in Rome. My folks saw me off. When I got home I crashed for most of the day. I think I saw Ilana but I can't really remember. Monday morning, I was back at work.
We climbed up a bunch of long hills and rode into Saveney right about nine o'clock. We were beat and it was a holiday but luckily there was an inn open. After a steak dinner (breaking my three-week veg streak) and a couple of pints of tasty, tasty Leffe, Pop and I crashed. I watched some really weird David Bowie movie until I passed out. Bowie played a time traveling alien and I understood nothing because it was all dubbed in French.
The next morning we got up early. The sky was cloudy but quickly cleared and was wonderful the rest of the way. I drank a lot of coffee and ate a ton of food. We kicked off down those big hills and blew across the flats all the way to St. Nazaire. The East side of St. Nazaire is an ugly, ugly place. There's about ten miles of refineries and industrial harbor. I found a sweet radioactive magnet that's about a square foot. It was lying by the side of the road. I suppose it fell off the back of a truck. After a pit stop for more beer, and some conversation over pita and goat cheese by a really gross canal, we set off again. The countryside improved immensely as factories gave way to beach, farms, and resort towns. Our pace was much better the second day: we made fifty kilometers in just three hours. Of course, we still had twenty to go! It was a great feeling when we got to the beach on the West side of St. Nazaire. The last haul to Le Pouliguen went smoothly and when we hit the crescent bay, there were hundreds of kites flying in the sky. Here we are, 110 kM after leaving Nantes:
Mama and Olivia came walking up from the train station right as we were chaining our bikes in front of the hotel. It was great seeing them. We went for a stroll along the beach and ate crepes.
I took a photo from a jetty in the canal leading to the ocean.
The next day we spent being family and walking way too much. We all had to be somewhere Monday, so we caught the train back to Nantes (the line that ran along our "bike path"). After a cab ride from an Iranian cabbie who blasted Chuck Berry, we all found ourselves at an airport hotel. There was no staff, only computers. Everything operated by barcode or credit card. I was really creeped out. That must be what things are like in Japan. My flight left at five a.m. and after a few hours of sleep my whole family walked the five hundred meters to the airport. Olivia and I downed espressos, and recounted our early morning experience with the gigolo at Termini station in Rome. My folks saw me off. When I got home I crashed for most of the day. I think I saw Ilana but I can't really remember. Monday morning, I was back at work.
