Success!

Setting out from Carcassonne (above), my third day of riding was my longest (5th day since leaving Toulouse).  I covered 80km and was on the road for 10 hours.  By the time I reached my destination, Capestang, I was the quintessential "weary traveler" and my warm inn room with a shower and a bed felt like the height of luxury. 


But, fatigue aside, it was a great day with frequent stops.  I'd refer to my guide book to learn what I was seeing (my comprehension of written French isn't bad now).  To summarize, everything is OLD-- from the Middle Ages, the 9th, 10th, 11th centuries.  From before France was even inhabited by the Francs, the time of the Visigoths and the Romans. With buildings that old, things built a couple hundred years ago are considered modern: one bridge built in 1844 was called Le Pont Neuf-- "The New Bridge."  Here are some photos:

Every village, even the tiny ones, had a monument to those that died in World War I, 1914-1918... Riding through the narrow streets is a French history lesson: every village has a Rue 14 juillet (Independence Day), Rue 11 novembre (Armistice Day: end of WWI), Rue de la Resistance (WWII).  Also Rue Voltaire and Rue Victor Hugo.

And then there was the beautiful countryside-- more and more vineyards and olive trees.  Every mile there were signs for Wine cellars offering tastings and direct sale; they obviously depend on the tourist season.  I saw other bikers along the canal, locals walking their dogs, and families cruising in their boats, but thankfully I avoided the rush of summer.

It got sunnier as I approached the coast!  Even the town names took on a warmer feel (like Paraza).  I rode all day the 6th day, until the canal met its end near this lighthouse:

But I still had 33 km to go before reaching Sete, my final destination.  I got directions from a long-bearded hippie and set off down a stretch that reminded me of Cape Cod: a single road on a skinny strip of land. I saw flamingos!..  Once in the seaport town, I searched for the hostel I planned to stay in.  It ended up being on top of a ridiculous hill; pushing my bike and bags up there was the last thing my body wanted to do (so steep I was almost scared to ride down), but it was worth the effort.  This hostel put the ones I've stayed in in NYC and D.C. to shame.  Or maybe I was just happy to throw my stuff down ANYwhere. That night I ate a three course dinner of mussles, oysters, snails + fish and coquillage pastry covered in a delicious sauce that was probably straight butter and cream + pear sorbet.  Delectable. 

Me and my first view of the Mediterranean!:

So, I'm now back in Toulouse after taking the train from Sete.  What took me 4 days of biking (+2 of sight-seeing) took only 2 hours on the train.  It was rather sad not to wake up with a sunny ride and a destination ahead of me, but at the same time, the familiarity of Toulouse is comforting.  It was a week well-spent; I'm thankful for nothing stolen, no flat tires, no catastrophes.  Prayers answered.  My bike and body served me well and it's exciting to know that there are countless courtyards, valleys, and villages still to be discovered.