Day 3 -- Bordeaux to St. Emilion

 Our first riding day. This begins the start of our 685 mile journey from Bordeaux to l’Alpe d’Huez. Our tour route, for the most part, is auspiciously void of high traffic areas and meanders along country roads following the country’s rivers until we start climbing the Alps. This means we need to be conscientious about getting food and water where it is available.

 Still no Isabelle. Each call to the airport gives us the same message, always delivered by a live person, but the same message in broken English, “There is no new information. No other airport has reported the bike found.” ARGH! We called Air France about 20 times in the past three days, because it is the only airline allowed to track claims, we call North West because it was our carrier, and nobody has any information. It’s highly frustrating; once we’re on the road, it will be more difficult to have the bike delivered to us as we only stay in each city overnight and each day we are farther…and…farther from the airport.

 Over our morning chocolate pain (croissant), I expressed my fear and frustration to Claire, a warm, leggy blond crew member from Melbourne responsible for doing the daily sweep for stragglers. She tells me through a soft Aussie accent “It’s OK. Ride at your own pace, enjoy yourself, follow the map and you’ll do fine. I’ll be doing a sweep so you won’t get left in the dark. Now give me a hug!” I felt better.

 We gathered outside the hotel and I knew it I was going to be trouble as sweat rolled down my neck and I wasn’t even moving yet. It was 90 F at 10:00 AM. Cue sheets and maps were distributed and last minute modifications were made to bicycles and riders. I was intimidated, as the other 32 riders looked fitter, faster and more road confident than I. What was I doing here? 

 As we headed off, the route took us on an expressway for a couple of miles, then a bike trail (one of the only on this trip) hugged the river Garonne until we came to the sleepy city of Cadillac at lunchtime. At Cadillac, I pulled into the town square, having clicked off 36 kilometers then scrambled to the alimentation (a small mini market with fresh food and drinks) before the country-wide afternoon lunch break. This was going to be a problem I thought. Timing arrival into small, sleepy villages with “facilities” was going to be an issue of timing when fatigue set in and I was out of fuel and water. I need to plan a contingency for this, I thought.  

 After lunch, serious nausea returned and I couldn’t tell if it was due to stress -- physical or emotional -- or a change in diet and the late-night dining we were doing to accommodate the ride schedule and weather. Today was one of the hottest days on record at 40 C (100 F) and we were cycling in it all day. Lowell warned me earlier about the extra weight my 70 ounce Camelbak carried, but it would become an essential of mine. I filled it frequently, drank often, and tried to ignore the fact that it was so frickin’ hot one could sweat while sitting still in the shade.

 After lunch, I made the mistake of trying to keep up with Helen and Jana. Both avid cyclists; Helen is a teacher in Thailand and Jana a physical therapist who swims the English Channel in her spare time. While their pace was steady, it was too fast for me to maintain with the 100 – 150 meter rolling foothills and 100 degree heat. After 60 kilometers, I dropped back and tried not to panic when they rode out of sight.

 Seventy five kilometers later, as I pressed up a steep hill, alone, the sag wagon passed and I flagged it down as I was out of water and very exhausted.

 We entered St. Emilion, our resting spot for the night, through a large cobblestone roundabout. It was a spectacular wine village known for award winning Merlot. A distant chateau perched on a hillside surrounded by vineyards. Cobblestone streets twisted around a small shopping district with shops catering to tourists and wine aficionados. After recovering with half a gallon of water and orange gelato, I purchased half a case of a recommended vintage Merlot, my favorite, to be shipped home.

Once at the campsite, I had just enough time to pitch my tent, and take a quick dip in a cool, clear pool. We dined in the village al fresco, drinking lots of wine and eating a fabulous 5 course meal. In the square where we are, thunderclouds darkened the evening sky creating a spectacular glow.