2014  The Seventeenth Day

            Where to begin?  First, I am so pleased that Aaron introduced to me to camping.  The campgrounds have been consistently excellent.  This one in Montbard might be the best so far.  The experience has been far more enriching and less isolating than the small hotels of last year.  I have had many pleasant conversations with incredibly interesting people, all fellow travellers exploring the world.

            The morning started with a decision, to take the busy 905 or the canal road.  On the advice of the attendant at the Tourist Center I opted for the latter.  The road was crushed gravel that rode fine.  There was lots of activity on the canal with boats moving in and out of the locks.  Sadly, the road was not one of those straight as arrow roads and added an extra 10 kms over the 15 kms on 905.

            Part way I stumbled across two Canadians form Montreal.  They were avid trekkers.  They hike between 30 and 40 kilometers per day.  He had been an avid cyclist until his wife convinced him to try hiking.  

            By Ancy-le-Franc I had enough of boats and locks and went for a true biking road.  The attendant at the Tourist Center warned of several arduous climbs.  She did not say that the first was immediately outside of town.  This hill was big time steep and seemed to go on forever.  Eventually, I crested. Stretched out in every direction was a panorama filled with planted fields.  In the distance a large missile shaped grain elevator looked poised for a mission into the stratosphere.  The road had to be the least travelled road.  No more than one or two cars came and went for the next 25 kms of farmland and forests. 

            I swept into Montbard on a rewarding long downhill and immediately left town heading toward the Fontaney Abbey.  I hoped to stay there.  They advertised a hostel on their website.  Not to be.  The abbey was a complete commercial venture without a monk in site.  Solesmes remains the one and only monastery that I have been given accomodations.

            I did meet two women cyclists who were heading to the campground in Montbard.  Happily, there was room for both of us. 

            After five days of trouble free biking, the dreaded curse of the broken spokes raised its ugly head.  Unsure if the bike shop in town would do repairs, I attempted the fix myself.  A friendly Dutchman, Peter, ambled over to lend both moral and technical support.  We twisted and turned before finally placing the new spoke in the proper position.  The tire continued to rub on the right hand brake pad, which means finding a bike shop to fine tune the wheel.

            Peter has recently retired.  He and his attractive wife are travelling the world.  How much more can they see since before retirement they had travelled from the North Pole to the South Pole?  They have seen both the Emperor Penguins and the Puffins.  Peter said that he marveled at the Americans that he dealt with in business.  Their 24-7 commitment left little time to enjoy life.  I have always felt that most Americans work very hard so that they can enjoy their retirement.  Regrettably, many retirements are much too short.

            Dinner was a hot kebab at a Turkish restaurant washed down with two deliciously cold beers.  On the TV, Algeria was losing to Belgium in the World Cup much to the delight of the only other customer.  

            If no two fingerprints are alike, the same can be said about campgrounds, caravans, and campers.  This is the seventeenth campground and no two have resembled each other.  Likewise for the caravans and campers, I was amazed at the variety.  Small was definitely in.  The 45-foot monsters in America would startle them.  Most carried bicycles that were used for excursions into towns or around the countryside.

            Much joy!!!
            Hardy