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Sunday 21st June 2015 La Reole to Agen When I was leaving the Parentheses Anne told me how to get to the canal cycle-way, the 'Canal des Deux Mers'. I'd actually plotted a route by roads, having heard vague mention of this green route, a 'voie vert', but not being able to tell from the map exactly where it went. As it turned out it was perfect. Once on the cycle-way by the side of the canal I just rode along it all the way to Agen. Flat all the way, well-surfaced and about 9 ft wide with no motor traffic and only a few people walking or cycling along to get in the way.
It was another fine day but most of the route was lined with trees providing a welcome shade. At about 12.30 I stopped at a bar/restaurant on the side of the canal - these were less frequent than I expected - and had, yes, a cheese omelette and chips with a lemonade and a boule of chocolate ice-cream. Very nice.
After that it was just a case of pressing on and I rolled into Agen around 3.00. It's a very nice, largeish town. Nice because it's flat and easy to get around on a bike… and it's clean. There was a large open area with a statue and grass and flowers, lined by trees and around the edges a street market was in its final stages. I cycled round a bit and found a hotel, Le Provence (***), after passing a couple of dubious-looking dumps Andrew would have been in like a shot.
The Provence was ok, nothing fancy but at least it had a hair-drier so I was able to do my washing and get it dry. And it had a locked garage where I was able to stow the bike. After having a shower I fell asleep till 5.00 then rang Trisha to report in. At 7.15 I ventured out looking for food and hadn't gone far when I came upon a Moroccan restaurant offering vegetarian couscous. Well it was so hard finding anything vegetarian in French towns that I went no further. In I went, into 'Les Saveurs D'Agadir' - the Wise Men of Agadir! I felt like humming 'Aga do, do, do…' to get into the mood and impress the locals but managed to suppress the urge.
I had the veg couscous but disappointingly it was a poor offering of couscous and vegetables which had obviously been reheated several times in their long and interesting lives. Not to worry, there was probably a shred of nutrition left in it somewhere. I eased the couscous's passage with half a bottle of vin rosé then for dessert I tried the 'gateau de la maison' - five small cakey titbits which the lady restauranteuse assured me represented the four corners of Morocco plus a fifth 'gastronome' representing the whole… or some such nonsense. Well it was different and she seemed quite proud of it so why not. Then I had a small black coffee, adding the 2 lumps of sugar I'd been supplied with in the vague thought that maybe that's what Moroccans did. Who knows. Anyway, it should help keep me going for a while, I thought. It turned out that that music festival from last night was more widely based than I thought. After leaving the café I wandered into the town centre and there were music acts at every street intersection with crowds of people out to watch and soak it in, young and old alike.
I watched a French steel band for a few minutes then carried on up the wide pedestrian boulevard until I came to a mini-square where there was a stage and also, fortunately, some pavement cafes. I sat down and had a beer (3 euros) from the delightfully tattooed Far Eastern lass, and then another while 3 French blokes dived into a rap number - as nice in French as it is in English. There is something, a mixture of tragi-comedy and wannabe-ness about French rappers. Rap is not really a French thing - nor English come to that - but because they think it's 'cool' they try so hard. These three were doing their best at the Eminem-style actions, stomping back and forth on stage, holding the mikes close to their mouths with one hand and stooping whilst doing these silly scooping-pointing gestures with the other hand. It was laughable really but hey they were trying their best at something and it took some nerve to get up there and do it so good luck to them.
I had another beer or two as the sky slowly darkened above us and a couple sat down at my table. This was Ali, a 50-or-so year old Tunisian, and his French moll, Michelle. Actually they were both very nice and friendly. Ali had spent three months in England doing god knows what and Michelle, a 40-plus, hanging-on-to-the-last-of-her-good-years lass, was also very nice. She had a smattering of English too so with my French we exchanged a puzzled remark or two before the waiter came and spilt beer all over us. Well over me mostly. The good thing was that the rappers departed and were replaced by some other blokes (not a lot better really) and the waiter returned and gave me a beer refill - a double, worth 6 euros! Free! Whoohoo! Feeling slightly off-centre after guzzling all that I finally said goodbye to my good friends Ali and Michelle and made my way back to the hotel, past various music acts still performing along the way. A lovely evening and Agen a great town. Bike computer: 81.36 km (it started working in km by error) GPS: 52.0 miles 8.7 mph avg 21.2 mph max 2230 ft ascent (long and gradual) English miles: 117.8 French miles: 675.9 | ||||||||||
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