2014 The Ninth Day

            A heavy mist hung over the campground.  The downside of large campgrounds hit last night.  Several groups did not want to settle down.  One group was less than 10 feet away and featured a man with the loudest laugh.  Further away was a Citroen car club and they were going full bore.  I finally picked up and moved to a quieter spot.

            Now, I know why the Dutch couple was able to do so many miles.  They were on the move already at six in the morning.

            Aaron is a far more experienced adventurer than me.  He has kayaked in Alaska and hiked in numerous areas.  He has brought along the more appropriate items for camping out including a small portable stove.  The only other time I slept on the ground was when Sharon and I cycled from Paris to Lisbon in 1996.

            Yesterday, the fender on his trailer broke loose.  What a noise!  He quickly took it off and away he went.

            We were off and running to the Tourist Office for advice by nine.  On the way, Aaron discovered that he was missing his camera.  He checked through his entire bag without luck.  He decided to ride back to the campground with the outside hope of finding it there.  After obtaining the necessary information, I was waiting outside for Aaron.  On a whim, I checked the spokes.  Sure enough one was broken. 

            Back inside the Tourist Office the guide indicated two bicycle shops but neither would be open.  Today was another holiday, yesterday being Pentecostal Sunday.  Oddly, the anti-clerical French still celebrate the Catholic holidays.

            Aaron virtually glowed with success as he cycled into view.  The camera had been found.  He was not pleased to hear about the broken spoke and the closed shops.  We did find two wonderful sandwiches and cokes in the old city.  After lunch Aaron tried to fix the bike himself.  Everything went well until we discovered the broken spoken hidden behind the cluster.  Bill Hyland would not have been deterred.  Lacking the right tools, we would have to wait until morning and trust the technician at Decathlon.  I hope that he is as good as the one at Saint-Dizier. 

            We re-registered at the campground and found a better site near the river.  After unloading, we quickly cycled off to see Fort Douaumont north and slightly east of Verdun.  The steady climb to the top was over 6 kms.  Time had gratefully washed away the memory of this difficult hill that I rode in 1995 with full gear.  Within the first kilometer I broke another spoke.  The bike now staggered drunkenly with the more pronounced wobble.  I made the top and then all the way back to the campground.  Like a true friend, Aaron followed directly behind shaking his head.

            As always, the cemetery was sobering.  Anyone who witnesses this and hears the story could never send anyone off to war.  As my son Jake says, “War does not decide who is right but who is left.”

            A vast cemetery lay in front of the Ossuaire.  These were the dead who could be identified.  The 130,000 who could not be identified were beneath the Ossuaire.  Their bones were visible through several windows.  The tour featured a movie and a chance to climb the tower for an overview of the area.  A fine display of various artifacts found in the combat areas were on display on a lower level.

            Verdun itself was a fortress town.  A medieval tower guards the entrance to the old city and improvement in the fortifications was continual up to WW I.

            Much joy!!!
            Hardy