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11 Cruel Joke Route change. After looking at the map for the umpteenth time, and finally realizing we would be hitting major Pyrenees, we decided to follow the Lot River instead. The going was easier. We did one hundred kilometers in less than a full day's ride. The scenery changed from high farmland with happily munching cows in green pastures, to looking up at mountain passes through valley vistas. It was pleasant for a change. From Maurs, west along D19 and D662, high rock cliffs towered over the road in streaks of orange and black. Tunnels cut through mountains, rather than sending us over them. The river flowed through the valley. Above it, we followed on a towering rock cliff with impressive architecture gracing the edge. Solid houses were built into the bluff. One used an immense rock for its wall and roof. Caverns lined the road. Splendid rock arches complemented ornamented train trestles; even replanted trees were patterned: rows of evergreens interspersed with hardwoods. A craggy ledge jutted over the road, forcing us to ride beneath it, cold water dripping on our backs. Our excitement for the day was a series of bizarre tunnels, a tad dark on our bikes, but fortunately none extremely long. As we approached the tunnel, we saw doors had been built into the rock above. At the entrance to one tunnel a castle gate had been carved into the granite. It rained on and off most of the day. Muddy brown water still overflowed riverbanks. Soaked by early afternoon we called it a day. Sharon wanted a hotel so we could dry out and have a shower. The shower turned out to be a cruel joke with no hot water-barely warm. I got wet and shut off the water. I lathered up, turned on the water and hosed off. All my clothes were wet, dirty or both. It was impossible to dry apparel in constant rain. The "hot" water radiators didn't put much heat into the rooms. |
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