2014 The Twenty-Fourth Day

            What a contrast!  The campground in Vendrome was next to a busy roadway and the sound of traffic was bothersome the entire night.  On the other hand, the campground in Ecommoy was so quiet and peaceful that you could hear the crickets chirp.  And there were no lights.  Finding the way to the bathroom in complete darkness during the middle of the night posed a serious problem.

            I went passed 1700 kilometers today.  In three days, I have done 115, 90, and 60.  The progression is not looking good.  I did make the monastery in Solesmes and was greeted warmly.  The road was a mixture of everything, ups, downs, flats, and curves.  My energy was high and the ride went very well.

            I stopped for coffee in la Fontaine-St. Martin.  When a friendly patron put up three fingers, I nodded yes.  I ended up enjoying the strongest coffee so far.  This town was more like the France I have come to expect, flowers, grass, and parks.  There still was a sprinkling of those under nondescript towns.

            Last year I visited both bike shops in Solesmes, one on the way down and the other on the way back.  The grizzled old man ran the neighborhood fix up shop.  Tools were scattered every which way about the shop.  Only he could find what he needed in this cluttered chaos.  His expertise was much value because people looked in periodically all morning asking for his advice about this or that.  He would tinker with their problems and send them on their way well satisfied.  His grease stained overalls smelled heavily of oil looking much like Gomer Pyle.  A five-day growth of beard covered much of his weathered and winkled face.  Unknown to me he tuned the wheel without replacing the spokes.  Apparently, he did not have the right length in the shop.  As a result, more spokes were replaced two towns later.

            On the way back, the technician was the direct opposite, younger, clean-shaven, clothes that smelled like they had been washed that morning, and the shop look professional, tools all in their proper places. He ended up replacing the entire wheel that was replaced several days ago in Montbard. 

            Tonight I will sleep in a bed with a roof over my head for the first time in three weeks.  There were 13 others staying including Clais, a Swedish man who has been travelling on his bike for the last three years. He has been at the abbey for four days and was doing some gardening in exchange for room and board.  The rest were clerics of different orders.

            This time the Abbot, not the Prior, washed my hands before supper.  When I mentioned St. John’s Abbey in Minnesota, he added Collegeville.  The meal was simple but ample, soup, spaghetti, bread, and wine.  The monks sat at tables facing inward while the guests were seated in the middle.  As usual, the meal was conducted in silence with a reader recited texts from scripture.  Several novices served the food family style.  Unlike last year there were no second helpings.

            I am starting to get the hang of finding my way out of Dodge.  It is better to know the name of the next town than the number of the road.  The signs in town usually list the names of the next towns but not the numbers of the roads.  When you exit the town the sign will show the town with a slash through it and the road number.

            Take what the road gives you has been my motto this whole trip, never so true as today.  I tried not to override, pushing the up-hills in particular.  Instead, I rode within myself, setting a pace that would get me there.

            The e-mail problem continues.

            Much joy!!!
            Hardy