John here: Ahhhh…. cycling in France. One imagines romantic scenes of cycling on pastoral paths beside ancient canals, quietly pedalling between locks, with gaily coloured canal boats putt-putt-ing along, an arm’s length away.
After a few dozen kilometres of riding beside an algae-covered canal/ditch, not a boat in sight, the romance fades. When a route consists of about four hours beside said canal, something must be done about the next day’s plans.
So, after yesterday’s mind-numbing long canal-side ride, a bit of route redesign in the hotel room after dinner improved things greatly for today’s ride. We climbed a couple of hills, cutting corners off the meandering canal’s path, thus shaving a few kilometres, and we added interesting rides through small villages. Much better!
Normally, the canals would be full of water, with enough flow to discourage the over-abundance of algae. Canal boats, even at this time of year, may still be using the locks. BTW – the locks are fully automated. It appears that boaters can be given a remote control that starts the lock gate process from about 50 metres away. (There are signs that tell them when to send the signal on their remotes.) We’re not sure about that, but the hand-operable cranks and levers that normally accompany small canal locks are nowhere to be seen.
We passed by a section of canal that was full to the brim, possibly to keep several gravel-carrying barges afloat beside their crushing mill. The barges are idle, but one supposes that grounding those boats on a dry canal bed may not be a good idea.
We diverted off the canal through a village called Fontenoy-le-Château, hoping to ask the proprietor of the Broderie de Fontenoy-le-Château to open early for us. At one time, Fontenoy was known around the world for its fine embroideries. Unfortunately the museum looked very closed, and wouldn’t open for three hours, so we had to skip it.
The town is in the Côney river valley, so naturally, we stopped at the local cafe – Coney Island. (Ironically owned by a Dutch woman.) We sat in the sun drinking coffee with several 80 year old locals, and shared (John 90%) a piece of cake. Heavenly. The recumbent trikes attracted attention, especially from an older cyclist who told us of his cycling adventures in Madagascar and Patagonia. New challenges for us? Maybe?
(Patti here: I dare ya. I say yes.)
John here: On the side of the road we noticed a memorial for fallen soldiers and holocaust victims (note the names of two of the camps in the photo below). Very sobering. BTW, the double-cross is the symbol for the Free French Forces, the French Resistance against Nazi Germany during World War II, and Gaullism. (Vs the Vichy regime.)
After 58 km of riding we arrived at our overnight accommodations in Corre: a gîte built into a large barn. This was the second of the booking.com accommodations I had scrambled to find after we aborted our original route into Switzerland.
“A gîte (pronounced ‘zjiet’) is the French term for a holiday home. These are furnished properties available for short-term rental, from a few days to a few weeks. So it’s a place for tourists to stay, but what does a gîte look like? Gîtes come in all shapes and sizes, from renovated barns to luxury villas with infinity pools. Many gîtes are converted farms or workers’ cottages.
There are several types of gîtes. For example, there is the gîtes d’etape, which is a hostel for hikers and cyclists.
There is also the gîte rural, a holiday home in the countryside that is available for rent, often an outbuilding.”
Our accommodating host welcomed us early (check-in time wasn’t until 3 or so) and gave us the choice of a unit with a kitchen, or a unit with a porch. Knowing we wouldn’t be cooking, we chose the unit with the porch. Besides, it was bigger!
We headed off to the local Intermarché to pick up wine, zero-beer and cheese and crackers. We ended up with bad white wine in small tetra-packs and a six pack of terrible beer. Ah well – we drank some of it anyway. Patti prefers E LeClair supermarkets, and isn’t a fan of the Carrefours or Intermarchés, for good reason. After the wine and cheese at the gite we headed out to our host’s recommended restaurant, a 15-minute walk away next to a canal-side trailer park. (Glamourous.)
Corre is a depressed village, with shades of previous better-times and a large, operating mill. Possibly the drought and dry canals have recently hurt local business? as the restaurant our host had suggested was closed during the week. We were led astray by this sign, but, of course, that was the BACK of the sign. The front said ‘Fermé’.
We walked back to the gite and ended the day a bit hungry, but woke to a fantastic home-cooked breakfast of two types of pancakes, hard-boiled eggs (from the farm’s chickens), freshly baked croissants, and large pots of coffee. Full to the brim. Good thing, because it was drizzling heavily outside, promising to be a very wet 39 km ride to the next town: Scey-sur-Saone.
Going to bed hungry sucks, good thing breakfast was a good reward. Where to next?
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