By eBike along the fabulous Costa Brava coastline into France and along the Mediterranean as far as Sète, how good is that! But wait it gets better… inland through the Languedoc vineyards around Béziers and into the mountains; the Rail Trail from Bédarieux to Mazamet alongside the Orb and Jaur Rivers; through Castres and on to the medieval jewel that is Albi, with its imposing fortress-cathedral and the home of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec .
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Thursday 17 October, 2019. Llança • Canet-en-Roussillon |97 km|
I’ve run out of superlatives.
[Low 20s, no wind. Hilly and winding main road. The route took in: Colera and Portbau in Spain, and Cerbère, Banyuls-sur-Mer, Port-Vendres and Argelès-sur-Mer along the French coast, then Palau-del-Vidre, Villeneuve-de-la-Raho and Perpignan inland, before getting back to the coast again at Canet-en-Roussillon]
For the first 60 km, to Argelès-sur-Mer, I followed the coast north on route N-260 (Spain)/ D914 (France). This is probably the most enjoyable cycling I have done. Ever.
The views were fantastic, and the electric-assist made light work of the continual hills. The Sub-Pyrenees here are a series of east-west ridges, creating abrupt seascapes for over 100 km, with ragged hills disappearing into the Mediterranean Sea interspersed by delightful little coves in between. The hills are not high (only 1,000m climbed in total) but the repetitious climbing and descending on the winding roads made for a very special day of cycling.
In Portbau, I came across a Canadian family of four on their way cycling to Manresa, where I’d just come from – mum and dad, and 4-y.o. and 18-month-old boys. They were sure doing it the hard way on their loaded (non-electric) bikes with trailers! Admittedly, they were taking a bit longer, and jumping on the train where the going got too tough, but wow, what a tough lot they were: so, hats off to them!
The ‘cheap’ knock-off charger that I had bought for my Surface Notebook computer in London a few months ago has broken already, so I made it a priority to get a new ‘proper’ charger at the first opportunity in any large town I came across. This turned out to be Perpignan, and so I went directly there from Argelès-sur-Mer instead of continuing along the coast (but I came back down to Argelès along the coast the next day).
After a fruitless search for a large computer store in Perpignan, I finally asked an electric-scooter-riding guy who looked like he might be tech-savvy, and he directed me to ‘Fnac’ store, which is the French equivalent of the German Mediamarkt (or the English Curries, or JB HiFi in Australia for that matter, but more upmarket). I should have thought of this earlier, and it was sound advice.
But when I pulled in at the marquee store of Fnac in Perpignan, the muscle-bound, low-browed guard told me they sell no such thing (I showed him the old one) and he booted me out! (Well, I did have my bike with me). So I spent another fruitless hour searching around Perpignan looking for any other electronics store, and asking a lot of people – all of them said Fnac would be the most likely place to have one for sure.
So I went back to try Fnac again. This time, I locked Ziggy up at a bike stand and quickly scooted down to the computer department in the basement level of Fnac before the nasty guard noticed me. Within a minute I had a genuine Microsoft replacement charger from the knowledgeable store attendant, and went across to the cashier desk to pay for it. I then spotted the same belligerant guard watching me suspiciously again, but before he could do anything I started loudly abusing him (for telling me the store didn’t have my item last time round).
Fortunately, the cash-register girl could speak a little English and was able to gloss over the situation before it got too out of hand. But when her scanner price came up as €110, even though the sticker price on the shelf was only €99, I wasn’t about to let that go. She simply refused to go and read the sticker for herself, or to send someone else over to do it, and just said, well cough up €110 or you can bugger off. A bit different than Woolies, huh? And the scorned guard was now starting to make a move towards me again, intimidatingly talking into his chest talkie-talkie and adjusting his ear-piece as they do, so I thought I’d better chill out and meekly succumb to the situation. Who knows what your rights are over here?
The final little indignity, that actually didn’t bother me too much, was the guard’s senior colleague at the front door wanting to search my handlebar-bag and then try to accuse me of stealing my old charger (until I showed her its frayed wires, and the receipt for the new one). I rushed back to the bike and was pleased to see it hadn’t been molested in any way. Then, in my eagerness to get away after undoing and putting away the locks, I forgot my new charger was still just perched on top of the load on the back rack, and when I took off it fell off, and a taxi ran over it! Still works fine though. Great packaging, Microsoft!
Perpignan looked like it might be an interesting town to loiter in, once I had gotten used to it’s rather louche appearance when scouting around the city centre looking for Fnac, but I was keen to get back to the seaside and figured the batteries would last me until I got there.
Well, they did last but only just, and I was almost out of juice by the time I got to Canet-en-Roussillon, which is effectively the beachside suburb of Perpignan. The tourism office there was sceptical I’d find camping accommodation, but at least did try to call a couple of campgrounds on my behalf and then pointed me in the right direction for the biggest one even though their phone calls went unanswered and so they were probably shut for the season. They suggested I try Hotel St. Georges on the beachside strip instead, and that’s where I ended up staying – for 3 nights. St. Georges had good WiFi, the rugby was on TV and I was sick of cycling and needed a rest.
Friday 18 and Sat. 19 October 2019. Canet • Argelès and back|20 km|
About 80% of the businesses in Canet were shuttered up, with notices proclaiming fermeture annuelle (annual closure). The off-season lasts from end-September to the first week in April, so the money season here is only 5 months long – now I understand why it’s such a rip-off in Europe in summer.
There certainly wasn’t much to do in Canet in mid-October, pub-wise or grub-wise. In fact, I did my food-shopping at the Carrefour Express minimart and ate in my room. That included 3 bottles of the local Rosé (in 3 days, c’mon), which has just about become my favourite tipple right now.
On the Friday I just chilled out. The weather was nice and I was psyched up to going for a swim ‘later on’, but cycled down to Argelès-sur-Mer instead, and had a wander around their weekly flea market.
But the weather had changed dramatically by Saturday morning, with a strong gale blowing from the SSE. This put any further thoughts of going for a swim right out of my head. But that’s OK, there were two rugby world cup matches to watch on TV: Australia v England, then Ireland v NZ (both ending badly for my teams, but still good games to watch anyway).
During the Saturday night there was a tropical-strength downpour followed by another one Sunday morning that lasted until midday and caused considerable local flooding.
The wind was blowing even stronger from the SSE on Sunday, at 35 km/h, and so as soon as the rain stopped I packed up and headed off, to take advantage of the ‘push’ to get myself further north along the coast.
Sunday 20 October, 2019. Canet-sur-Mer • Agde |138 km|
The wind behind me!
[Wind from ESE at up to 35km/h; storm threatening, but it passed over without erupting (on top of me). Some rain late in the day. Warm (22-25°C) and humid. Mostly paved and unpaved cycle track; some main road with no shoulder. One short section without any track at all. Mostly flat. The route took in: Barcarès, Leucate, La Franqui, Port-La-Nouvelle, Gruissan, Narbonne Plage, Les Cabanes de Fleury, Sérignan, Portiragnes, Vias and Agde]
It was a breeze getting away from Canet-en-Roussillon at 12 pm after the rain stopped – a 35km/h breeze – pushing almost directly from behind!
So it was easy going for a while, at least it was until I came to La Franqui, 35 km into the day’s ride, when Ziggy decided to direct me along some vineyard tracks that became progressively worse until I was on a low limestone escarpment without any track at all. There were only rough goat trails to get down about 40m vertical to avoid a 12 km detour, so I manhandled the bike down the escarpment to the property boundaries below, and fortunately found a narrow gap of about metre or so between two adjoining properties that was just enough to squeeze Ziggy through after unloading everything.
After that interlude with the hill, there was still another 15 km of floating gravel, including on a narrow strip of land alongside the railway line, with the sea on the right and the étang, or lagoon, on the other side of the railway.
The dirt ended temporarily at Narbonne’s grimy commercial port of Port-la-Nouvelle but then continued again as a better-quality gravel canal tow-path, where I wasted another ½-an-hour at a lock (eclusé). The correct way to go was straight ahead (even Ziggy told me so!) but it didn’t look right to me so I unloaded all the baggage and walked Ziggy across the lock gate. Luckily, after I’d repacked and only gone a couple of hundred metres I came across a French couple out walking (it was in the Natural Park Narbonnaise en Méditerranée) who told me I was on an island and needed to go back across the lock and continue on as directed by the GPS. They helped me walk all the gear back across the lock.
My intention was to stay the night in Gruissan, but I was unimpressed (and there were no campgrounds), so I kept going.
It was almost night at 6.30 pm by the time I got to the town of Agde and I thought it was too dangerous to continue on in the gathering darkness. Also, I was stressed about not being able to find camping accommodation before the bike batteries ran out, even though I knew there were probably more than 20 so-called Campgrounds in the near vicinity. I couldn’t locate the Tourist Office to ask them either, so I just stopped at the first hotel I found, after searching around desperately for ½-an-hour or more. This was Hotel Les Armandiers, a really run-down establishment in the outskirts of Agde town, and it was a rip-off at €60. No WiFi either. I ate dinner at a Sizzler-type chain-restaurant called Poivre Rouge, a 400m walk away. The salad bar was nice, with lots of interesting shell fish, but the hamburger not so good, and at €32, including 2 beers, it was rather poor value.
Monday 21 October, 2019. Agde • Sète |57 km|
Getting lost along the beaches!
[All flat paved cycle track. No wind. Some rain at the end. The route took in: Marseillan Plage, Cap d’ Agde and Sète]
Agde turned out to be quite a nice medieval town with narrow winding streets when I examined it more closely in the morning (one of the oldest settlements in France, founded in 525 BC, according to Wikipedia). I even found the Tourism Office, but didn’t chastise myself for not finding it the evening before, because the directional signs are so confusing. The lady there gave me a good map of the region; however, the gap between the blown-up Agde town map side and the regional Cap d ‘Agde side caused me a few navigational problems – I just could not for the life of me find Cap d’ Agde at first, even though it is only a couple of kilometers away from Agde, and cruised up and down the beaches all morning looking for it.
All the ‘campgrounds’ in the area – and there were many – were closed. Apparently, none of them accept tent-campers anyway, but are really sites for cabins, campervans or caravans – in that order. So much for the 12 kg of deadweight camping gear I was dragging around!
I even tried the Naturist Village at Cap d’ Agde. It was still doing business, so late in the season, but there you have to pay €18 per day just to get in, and then around €200 per night for accommodation. The friendly security guy at the gate told me there were only a couple of the more high-end hotels, out of the 20-odd hotels/ hostels/ ‘camping’ villages inside the complex, that were still open at this time of year, and the place was basically deserted. I didn’t fancy paying that much just to prance around naked in the freezing cold!
I chuffed off to Sète and made the mistake of thinking the beach area, that I came to first, was the main part of town. It was raining steadily by then so I was ready to stop at the first good excuse. Hotel La Plage was ok, I guess, but nothing to write home about. The restaurant next door was busy (like Poivre Rouge was the night before), but I thought it was over-rated and over-priced. A small plate of mushroom risotto for €19 sets the tone.
Tuesday 22 October, 2019. Sète • Béziers |62 km|
62 kilometers in pouring rain.
[A dramatic turn in the weather: 8°C colder and very wet. Temperatures in the 12 to 15°C range. Storms brought heavy rain and flooding. The track I followed was paved bike paths; narrow single-lane paved but pot-holed vineyard roads; and busy main road with no shoulder; in equal proportions. Not many hills (and not many villages or towns either). The route took in: Sète, Marseillan Plage, Marseillan, Bessan and Béziers]
It rained over overnight and it was still raining steadily when I left Hotel La Plage at 9.30 for the 5 km ride into downtown Sète. I found the Tourism Office after some difficulty (stupid signage again! and if it wasn’t for someone hand-marking an arrow on the last sign, I still wouldn’t have found it). The woman there was obstreperous and told me I had to go back to Marseillan to get onto the Canal du Midi to go along it to Béziers – but that wasn’t my question: I wanted to know about the ‘Passapaïs’ route through the villages to the north of Sète. In the end I never did find out. With all the rain about I wanted to avoid the canal route, as I’d been told – and had read online – that it is prone to flooding and has many difficult-to-fathom deviations, so I just let Ziggy find me a route.
Sète is much bigger than I’d realised (population 42,000) and quite an interesting city – older even than Agde – and is a major passenger ferry port for as far away as Tangiers. However, I was concerned about being marooned too far away from Toulouse by the bad weather, and decided to push on to Béziers so that when (or if) the weather did improve I could do some of the well-known tourist rides around Carcassonne, Castres or Albi, and if it didn’t improve, then I’d only be two days’ hard riding away from Toulouse (where I was going to fly out of on 4 November). So I moved on from Sète mid-morning.
My route took me back towards Marseillan and the Canal du Midi, not that there was much to see of anything, it was raining so heavily. I did actually cross the canal, but in the wet, the gravel tow-path looked positively dangerous so I just ignored it and made for Marseillan to take the vineyard route to Béziers instead. By now the rain was teeming down and I pulled into the pleasant town of Marseillan to take stock and wait out the rain in a café; however, the rain only intensified and so I carried on regardless after half-an-hour.
Well, I got to see plenty of vineyards for sure on my trip through the vineyards – about 30 km-worth of them, from Marseillan to Béziers via Besan. This is the Hérault Languedoc wine region, and I must have passed 100s of ‘Domaine’ signs indicating the way to individual wine estates.
It wasn’t a big day for me, cycling-wise, but the incessant rain was getting me down so I decided to stick to the plan, such as it was, and find a place to stay in Béziers and maybe dry out a bit. I think I was suffering from hypothermia too.
The 2-star Concorde Hotel was my random choice in Béziers after a short search and plenty of options to choose from. I don’t know how it got its second star though! But, hey, the people were friendly, they had a secure garage for Ziggy and they didn’t mind me dripping all over their reception or hanging up my wet gear all over the room. Both my hands were useless because I’d lost all feeling in them – embarrasingly, I couldn’t even sign my name at check-in and had to get the nice lady to work the padlock for my bike.
I suspected many of the rooms must be occupied on a semi-permanent basis. More than half of them had ‘PRIVÉ’ instead of a room number on the door, and I noticed there were an inordinate number of kids up and down the corridors and kids programs blaring on TV after school-time. But the woman on reception told me, no, it’s a ‘locale’, which she then explained as being like a rented space for overflow stuff that doesn’t fit in their own home. I wonder if I got that right? I doubt it. The area the hotel is located in is definitely a poor and run-down suburb, and was the home of various French-Turkish cultural associations.
I had my own little mini-disaster to entertain me though. To economise, or rather to justify having dragged my near-useless camping gear ariund for 2,000 kilometres, I’d taken to making my own hot milk coffee on the gas camping stove. The UHT milk that you can buy just about anywhere in Spain and France, comes in a standard 650 ml bottle that is definitely not meant to be resealed after opening. It does have a screw cap, but the neck of the bottle is only soft plastic and tends to collapse around the screw-thread. . Well, I saved half a bottle of such milk in Canet-en-Roussillon but by the time I checked it again in Sète Plage it had vacated the bottle and seeped into everything else in the pannier, and was turning sour. I smelled like a roquefort cheese when I put my beanie on – and that was after washing it twice in the hand-basin! And as for my ‘fresh’ undies! Nah, you don’t want to go there…
Wednesday 23 October, 2019. Béziers |No Travel|
I stayed 2 nights in Béziers. Because of the weather, not because the place is so great. It rained for 36 hours non-stop from Tuesday morning till Wednesday 2pm. All through the night and late into the morning there was thunder and lightning all around as storms raged through. The storms and localised flooding in Béziers even made it onto the French national news channels (and the Daily Mail). Now I’m worried about the rivers rising that I might need to cross, and went down to examine the flow under the Pont Vieux, or Old Bridge. It was pretty scary. The three-day forecast looks good though, with clearing showers tomorrow then sunny, so I’ll be ok. Ha: the Tourism Office put up a sign in the afternoon (just as I was about to enter) that said they were closing because of the ‘exceptionally bad weather’ – that’s after it was already clearing. Lazy bastards. I could see them in there, pointedly not looking in my direction as I banged on the door.
Let’s face it: Béziers is not an attractive city. It’s big (80,000 population) and has a fascinating history dating back to 575 BC (the second-oldest city in France after Marseilles), though in 1209 almost the entire population of 20,000 was massacred and the city destroyed by the Catholics because the local Cathar sect was deemed heretical. So what is left today stems essentially from the 1200s. The historic centre’s narrow, winding and hilly streets, built on a prominence at a bend in the River Orb, are interesting of themselves, but the architecture is second-rate and the buildings are drab and decaying, and obviously now occupied by a poorer socio-economic stratum that cannot afford much upkeep. Also, the city’s layout is such that it has closed off what should be it’s greatest attribute, which is the river Orb, the banks of which cannot be approached at all because of a continuous line of buildings closing off all public access to the high-side bank. The few up-market stores that exist looked like they were desperately in need of customers, and there were hardly any bars, cafés or restaurants in evidence. There is just no vibe at all, though I did find an Irish Bar, O’Sullys, that was small but busy and was showing the Champions League football matches.
Thursday 24 October, 2019. Béziers • St-Pons-de-Thomières |92 km|
A very pleasant day’s cycling – vineyards and a rail-trail.
[The weather was vastly improved; no rain and no wind; cool, 18°C or so. The way was quiet single-lane paved vineyard roads for the first 55 km, then compacted gravel rail-trail for 37 km. Some climbing for the first 45 km, then mostly downhill or flat. The route took in: Puimisson, Autignac, Caussiniojouls, Faugères, Bédarieux, Orlagues and St-Pons-de-Thomières]
The Tourist Office in Béziers, the one that virtually shut in my face yesterday, provided me with a handy map today and some advice on how to get onto the V84 cycle route that goes to Bédarieux. This was indispensable, because Ziggy’s GPS sure wasn’t going to put me onto it, and in fact tried at least 4 times to confuse me and get me off of it! The iced frappé coffee at the café next door, Tuto Mondo, went down a treat too.
Well, I found the V84 after 5 km, almost where it should have been, in spite of some bad moments caused by Ziggy’s wilful determination to keep me off it, by sticking to the tourist office lady’s spoken advice, that was correct and counter to Ziggy’s. It was mostly easy after that regarding navigation. except for one crucial turn at Faugères. It was rolling hills through the vineyards for 22 km as far as Autignac, then a steady climb for the next 11 km, also mostly through vineyards, then another steady climb for 8 km through the national forest, Parc Naturel Régional de Haut Languedoc, until 5 km past Faugères, and then a 7 km downhill run through the same park into Bédarieux.
The slight navigational issue at Faugères was that, for once, Ziggy wanted to put me onto the bigger road, the D909, that went direct to Bédarieux, rather than along the smaller one, the D13E8 and D146E7/ D146 roads that the V84 follows and is 8 km longer. So, because of his miss-directioning me, I had to dangerously back-up on the on-ramp onto the D909 freeway after I missed seeing the V84 signage at Faugères turn-off, even though Ziggy was quite happy to route me onto the freeway, and then sulked for the next 16 km and tried 4 times to put me onto muddy cow pads or forest trails to get me back onto the prohibited D909.
It was also a bit difficult to navigate my way through Bédarieux to get onto the Passapaïs. That’s the name of the Voie Vert, or Greenway, that constitutes the rail-trail from Bédarieux to Mazamet. A Scottish cycling couple put me on the right track after I flirted with Ziggy, then I did another quick circuit of the town looking for the likely signposts after Ziggy disdained to rise to the occasion, but in the end it was a gentleman cyclist out for his daily constitutional who said have mon derrière (have my arse), (presumably meaning: ‘follow me’ in his attempt at Franglaise), and directed me the last intricate little step to get me onto the Voie Vert proper.
I stopped at the pretty little village of Orlagues to have lunch. Actually I stopped there to stay for the night, because that’s where the Scottish couple had stayed, and also because I decided I would take it easy from now on and try to cover less distance per day. But the hotel/ restaurant person said they were fermé – I don’t know if she actually meant closed or full, but she sold me a delicious ‘sandwich’ of cured local sausage on rustic baguette and a couple of panachés (beer with a dash of lemonade) instead.
After Orlogues, there was a short hilly section. At this stage the River Orb had turned off south and I was now in the narrow valley of the Jaur River, that runs back east to join the Orb, and in this section through the Monts du Someil, the Voie Verte departs from the old railway line for a bit and climbs the north side of the valley.
I arrived at the turn-off to the town of St-Pons-de-Thomières at 4 pm, and so it was still early enough to ride on some more had I wanted to. The town itself is about a kilometer off to the north of the Voie Vert, but I went into town to see if I could find some accommodation. I couldn’t see any, and Ziggy’s ‘Points of Interest/ Accommodation’ function showed nothing within a 15 km radius, so I thought I’d better charge up and take stock. I started to do this in the plaza beer garden of Café La France, where the pleasant young attendant told me there is a hotel in town, called Le Someil. Taking her at her word, I promptly packed away all the charging apparatus and went to investigate this alleged hotel that Ziggy knew nothing about. I found it alright, only 200m further on up the road (but ‘hidden’ from view by a roundabout). The room was a bit ropey (smell of tobacco that really set my sinuses off, and no toilet ensuite) but what can you expect in France for €40 these days – not much, I guess. Their restaurant was doing a roaring trade in the evening and the food was local, hearty and delicious. But don’t go near the ‘buffet’.
Friday 25 October, 2019. St-Pons-de-Thomières • Albi |117 km|
More rail-trails.
[10 – 18°C and sunny; no wind. The route was mostly compacted gravel on flat rail-trails, except for about 30 km on busy highways with no shoulder. The route took in: Courniou, Labastide-Rouairoux, St-Amans-Soult, Mazamet, Castres and Albi]
I was planning a short day today, just 35 km to Mazamet, so I was going to have a leisurely lie-in and get away at 12. But at 10 am the shrill woman doing the house-keeping at Hotel Someil yelled at me that I had to be out of the room straightaway, so I packed up and left. The patron, Antoine, did apologise profusely and gave me a free coffee and said she oughtn’t to have done that, as he has no specific check-out time. Bit late now!
Earlier, I’d gone across to the Artisan Boulanger (skilled baker, as they all like to call themselves) for my flan (custard tart), choco croissant and escargot (snail – a rolled-up cinnamon and raisin bun) for €3.60, instead of stumping-up €7 for Antione’s buffet breakfast. Since having seen the tired-looking and neglected buffet table at last night’s dinner setting – a sure-fire recipe for Delhi-belly, that one – their breakfast buffet was not a heartening prospect.
I back-tracked the 2 km out of town to get onto the Passapaïs rail-trail where I’d left off the previous day, then it was a continuous gentle uphill gradient for the first 15 km to Labastide-Rouairoux. My legs felt very wooden and I could only make progress in Turbo mode. The trail surface was less compacted here and had suffered numerous wash-aways during the storms of the past 3 days, so maybe that’s why I was finding the going so tough.
From the town of Labastide-Rouairoux, the Passapaïs trail was a gentle downhill run almost all the way to Mazamet, and I even had the power-assist switched off for a lot of the time. This part of the ride as far as Sant-Amans-Soult was down the narrow valley of the River Thoré and was quite beautiful, or at least interesting, but the last 10 km on into Mazamet, where the valley had opened out, was fairly ordinary and semi-industrial.
I was in Mazamet by 12.30. It didn’t seem very appealing. I’d emailed a WarmShower host 2 days ago who was mentioned to me by my friends from Toulouse, but since I’d had no response from him, I decided to continue on to Castres. I looked in on a few shut businesses in Mazamet: their posted opening hours were from 10 to 12am and again from 2 till 6pm, and this seems commonplace throughout France. This included the Tourist Office, where I’d hoped to get another map or at least some ideas or directions, but I didn’t feel like waiting around that long for them to reopen.
So Ziggy was the navigator, since I’d run off the edge of the map given to me in Béziers, and he didn’t choose wisely by putting me onto the frighteningly-busy N112 road that has no shoulder. I was about 5km into this hell, though, when I spotted a signpost indicating a cycle track
, so I followed the sign and about 1km off to the left of the main road there were signs for C21. I found out later (by googling) this is a Circuit cycle path that does roughly encompass both Castres and Mazamet towns, but is really a parcours local circuit through the hills around Mazamet. Luckily for me, I got onto it just where it resembled a route to Castres.
Castres’ Tourist Office was open when I got there, but by then I’d already decided to push on to Albi. My Toulouse friends, Marie and Phillipe, had talked about Albi in a very positive light (and never even bothered to mention Castres) so that was good enough for me!
There’s yet another Voie Vert, this one called Le Chemin des Droits de l’Homme (The Path of Human Rights 🙄) that goes between the two cities, and I followed it all the way. It turned out to be another rail-trail with no steep bits, and just as well too, because with some judicious use of the boost level I managed to make it all the way to Albi without needing to recharge, but only just.
Saturday 26 October 2019. Albi |no cycling|
Albi didn’t look too exciting as I was coming into it through the suburbs, but once I got into the historic central zone I could see why it is definitely a tourist hotspot. The Sainte Cécile cathedral, that is built like a fortress, dominates the town and is the centre of the tourist hub, with the Toulouse-Lautrec museum in an old palace nearby. I stayed for 2 nights close to the centre at the 2-star Hotel Du Vigan; watched England beat NZ at the rugby world cup on Saturday morning, and did some sight-seeing in the afternoon.
-ends-
#73 Llança to Albi |584 km|
Total in Europe in 2019: 11,234 km
Total, this bike (all in Europe, since July 2018): 16,377 km; 98,976m climbed