Day 10 2015

            Fr. Siebenand alerted me that I am calling this 2104.  I was piggy backing on last year’s blog.

            The easy ride into Lourdes turned nasty at the end.

            For the first time a clerk in the Tourist Office in Tarbes was less than gracious.  She impatiently dealt with a long line of two as if we were stacked twenty deep and she had a luncheon date.  She found a biking trail more suited for mountain bikes, very similar to several of the bumpy canal roads of last year.  Riding at tempo would have shook my bike apart.  I wisely jumped off at Julian and blazed my own trail through Louie and Barry.

            I zoomed by my first option, D507a, and failed to find the second option, D 973.  While doubling back, I was passed by several unencumbered.  They would be startled to see Aaron keeping pace with them.

            Turning onto D 507a, I found a challenge worthy of the Tour de France.  With the help of the granny gear, I pedaled a major portion.  After four walkups, 2 km, and certainly an hour later, I triumphed and immediately began creeping down the difficult descent.  Another cyclist whizzed by on the ascent but of course he was not packing 35 kg.

                                                                      The Climb!

                 

            Here is Lourdes!  Growing up as a young Catholic boy, I was mesmerized by the marvelous myths of Fatima and Lourdes.  And here I am!  It is like stumbling into Alice’s wonderland.  The town bears little resemblance to the village depicted in “The Song of Bernadette.”   Of course the apparition happened nearly 150 years ago and the village has grown into a small city centered on the tourist trade.  Besides the vast array of hotels and restaurants there is a myriad of shops selling religious items.  This commercialism has brought plurality to a very traditional French town.  I wonder how well this diversity has been accepted.  Probably, with the same difficulty that America has dealt with the new immigration.  Diana Eck mentions that a different aspect of these immigrants is that they do not leave their homelands behind.  Through the convenience of Internet and travel they easily  maintain intimate ties with family and culture.

            The first campground on the edge of town was filled to the gills with campers and did not have a shelter.  More rain came gushing down as I wound my way toward the center of the town.  Ducking under a convenient cover, I had a brief nap.  Isabelle can attest to my ability to sleep anywhere, three years ago in the Louvre and this year while standing up in the Churchill-De Gaulle exhibition.

            At the Tourist Center I ran into the same pair who were in Tarbes.  They had taken the bus.  Luckily, the camping near the center of town also rented rooms.  With dark gray clouds hovering overhead I decided on a room.  The choice was wildly acclaimed as rain fell within minutes and twice later in the evening.  Californians can only wish that they had this problem!

            Not being high season many of the smaller restaurants had rolled down their metal shutters.   The lights of a bar near the Halles, the town market place, were still on.  Being late in the evening the proprietor offered a very limited menu but managed a very nice grilled ham and cheese sandwich.  This was washed down with half liter of red wine.  The harshest storm struck with strong winds and rain.  After three scoops of ice cream and coffee I staggered back toward the campground.  Biking under the influence, BUI, was not a good idea.  Stopping halfway at McCafe was a better idea.  Even a better idea was having a full meal of burger, fries, and soda.

            Suddenly, a very attractive woman in her early forties was asking about my bike.  Carla has been biking and hiking Italy, France, and Spain for over three months all on her own.  She is from Capetown, South Africa, and is a pharmacist.  She was staying in hostel run by five nuns.  She handed me a list of such places and then disappeared around the corner.

            After this brief apparition, I biked back to the campgrounds with a light Irish mist falling.

Much joy!!!
Hardy

            The Warriors win and tie the series!  Now back to Oakland for a game on Sunday.