More French memories: Burgundy

No, not Sabine's Skoda--this is a Citroen 2CV. It doesn't get more French!

Memories they are, now that I have started the long trek back across the pond to West Texas. Just a week ago--heck, four days ago--Sabine and I were still in France, enjoying another great ride in Burgundy after our 10-day stay in Provence.

Did you know that fewer than 8% of French workers are actually unionized?

Our initial plans had been to stay in our AirBnB in Lagnes for only a week, but then we decided to extend this stay by three days and instead of jumping from one hotel to the next on the way back to Germany we'd build in another two-nighter in another AirBnB somewhere in Burgundy. Good choice, as it meant less packing/unpacking and the chance to ride in another region of France.

Riding in Burgundy, on cobbles in town

Riding in Burgundy, using the voies vertes

Provence and Burgundy are totally different. Yes, both are hilly, but Provence features longer, steeper climbs while Burgundy is much more moderate. There also seemed to be fewer hamlets and villages where we were, just west of Chalone-sur-Saone, resulting in fewer tiny roads connecting them. Still, the riding is fabulous in either region, and Burgundy was the first French area to adopt the voies vertes, rails-to-trails asphalted bike paths that are easy to ride (but also somewhat boring since they go in a straight line). For our one ride in Burgundy we chose a mixture of voies vertes and tiny roads, and we were rewarded with a beautiful ride of more than 50 miles that took us through fewer vineyards than pastures with Charolais cattle.

Charolais cattle taking a siesta

But before we get to more details regarding Burgundy, I should add our experience with the refinery strike. Two days before we left Lagnes, our host, Natalie, had nonchalantly asked me whether our "gasoline was OK." Well, what should not be OK? Maybe low octane or water in the Super E-95? I didn't even detect a question mark in her utterance. A day later, when we saw a long line at the filling station of the supermarket we had just exited things became clear: No, it wasn't that gas was really cheap here, but it was the fact that there was a full-blown strike against the country's refineries to force PM Francois Hollande to reverse his just-announced labor reform laws. We were down to almost empty (maybe that's what Natalie had meant???) and had planned to gas up the next day before starting our trip back with a full tank, and we simply lucked out that we realized at that moment that we'd better get in line and brim 'er up! The next morning, when we departed Provence, the stations were empty--pas plus d'essence.

Lines like in the '70s....

Strikes seem to be a French (and Belgian) pastime, so what would be more logical than to use one of the few stretches of two-lane road (where one can pass those hulking trucks) to impede all traffic behind and force everyone to stay behind by driving two abreast and slowing to a crawl, all the while waving huge protest flags from the car windows? It was maddening, so maddening indeed that I passed the illegal convoy first on the right shoulder and then by crossing into the third, on-coming lane, all the while honking like a directeur sportif in a bike race. Sabine's Skoda may not have much power, but it sure has a hell of a loud claxon! It was quite a drive.

Basking in the late afternoon sun in front of our B&B after the long drive from Provence

Les poules et moi

But somehow we made it to Burgundy, and the little gite that Sabine had selected and booked was waitig for us. It was a nice little apartment in an old farmhouse that was quiet and comfy. It featured outside seating and eating, and we were forewarned that there'd be three poules that were roosting in an old, abandoned Renault R4 and that would make their rounds in the morning to see what crumbs they could find. Nothing like fresh chicken poop on the porch and the clucking of happy hens.

Impressions from riding the French rails-to-trails

If that damn mechanic could just adjust that front derailleur ....

As mentioned earlier, Burgundy has an advanced system of bike paths that like our rails-to-trails follow old railroad lines. We parked the Skoda in Buxy, in the wide Grosne valley. We had expected way more vineyards in this region, but they were rather scarce as compared to the pasture land of this verdant valley. Regardless, there were lots of sights. We explored the medieval village of St. Gengoux-Le-National, marveled at the left-over railroad-related buildings and fixtures, and stumbled upon the nouveau-chic monastery of Taize, which attracts young folk from all corners of the world--to me it all resembled a bit a Jim Jones-ian cult camp where the Kool-Aid is going to be served any minute now. Sabine, on the other hand, was quite impressed with Taize. Well, to each his own.

That's what a modern-day monastery looks like--open concept

One doesn't see any monks, but there are hordes of young folk who don't
use rosaries but smartphones instead

We rode a bit farther south, all the way to Cluny, home to another monastery, this one dating back to the middle ages. Cluny is also an important equestrian center, and we saw the preparations for what appeared to be a large horse confab that weekend. It would have been nice to have more time to explore this region, but that will have to wait until next time, I'm afraid.

A "proper"monastery, in Cluny

Cluny appeared to be fully in the hands of equestrians

On the way back we left the voie verte for a while and bushwhacked back to Buxy on tiny roads, along beautiful estates and quaint farm houses. After 54 miles we still found a butcher that was open and we bought a nice Charolais steak that we grilled to perfection at the B&B. It was a fitting meal for our final night in France.

The next day we started the long drive back to Germany, via tiny roads through various regions that took us from the gently undulating Burgundy into the pre-Alps and then finally across the Swiss border to Neufchatel. The weather varied from unpleasant to rainy, but once we hit the Swiss lakes of Neufchatel and Biel the sun came out and it turned out to be a gorgeous afternoon for driving. Indeed, it was so nice that we decided to add one more night to our trip by staying with Sabine's sailing buddies, Bernd and Isolde, who live jut a few klicks away from Lake Constance. We finally rolled into Freising on Sunday afternoon, precisely 14 days and about 2,600 kilometers after we had left. What a great vacation! I can easily see us going back to France in the next few years as the riding and scenery are first-class. If you get a chance to spend some time in that country, do so--you won't regret it.


Jürgen

The Bataan Death March, or how much I enjoyed Provence and the Ventoux

At 1,911 meters, Mont Ventoux is threadbare at the top—thanks to unrelenting winds 

A week into our late-spring vacation here in Provence I can honestly say that I have never been as humiliated on a bike as last weekend. What has happened? I used to be able to ride up even larger hillocks without too much of a problem, and then there was Ventoux, and it took me more than 3 hours to ascend the "easy" side from Bedoin. My friend Tom K. from New Mexico did a triple ascent not that many years ago, and here I was sucking as badly as one can suck. But then, it is a 1,600-meter climb from Bedoin to the summit (1,911 meters), in 21 kilometers, without a single meter of flat terrain in between. That's hard, and I knew it going into this adventure. But there were so many riders who easily slipped by that I thought that I should just turn around and go home. Two ablations and a fat gut probably didn't help, either. And when exactly had I swallowed my last beta blockers?

Tom Simpson died here in the '60s--I wasn't about to imitate him, so I slowly churned the 34/32

But I did make it up the Ventoux. I can't really say that this was a "bucket list" item, even though that would be a bit romantic, I suppose. Actually, when Sabine and I had started to talk about going to Provence instead of Tuscany for our somewhat ritualistic spring vacation, I didn't even think about this big ol' mountain that's planted smack-dab in the middle of Provence. I had seen the big old pimple about a decade-and-a half ago when Judy and I had ridden with our German friends  from Lac Leman down to Nice and we had to drive back up to Switzerland. The idea to ride up had come after we had decided on our Airbnb domicile in the vicinity of the Ventoux, and then the thought started to get a life of its own. Nope, this was and is not a trip to only the Ventoux, but climbing it was a very exciting and satisfying highlight to a beautiful vacation, which is still evolving--even if my ride resembled the Bataan Death March.

This was one of the easier parts--seriously

Cold and windy up at 1,911 meters, and this was a really good day!

Our house that we are renting, here in Lagnes, just a bit south of Carpentras and east of Avignon, is perfect. That's the plain and simple truth. We have a generous living room, a nice, fully appointed kitchen, and a bedroom with a grand lit. The bathroom is brightened by early-morning sunlight and is modern and has anything one could ask for in a holiday home. We have a balcony that is bathed in sunlight that filters through leaves of wild wine in the afternoon sun, and we're having breakfast under pine trees, next to our swimming pool. Seriously, this is damn fine. It's about $90 a night, and we have already made arrangements to extend our one-week stay by an extra three days. I mean, how do you beat a place like this?

The Lagnes castle, as seen from our living room

Our hosts--Christophe, the local osteopath, and his wife, Natalie (plus two teenage sons)--are simply wonderful. On day two of our stay, Christophe guided us on a 30+ mile ride through the area; he rides a Look, is strong (and tall) as a horse, and loves wine just as much as we do. So, we've shared a few bottles, and as a result we know much, much more about the local area than we would have in a sterile hotel. And we get to practice our French, which is lots of fun.

La Petite Maison, on the left

Christophe, our host, towering over Sabine during our randonnee

A civilized breakfast starts a perfect day

Tuscany was very nice. Provence is nicer. Both places are scenic, but there seems to be more variety here, not just from a cycling standpoint but in regard to landscape and towns. Provence boasts many more tiny roads that connect towns and villages, and if you have a decent Michelin map you can design rides that are simply astonishing. You want to climb? Check. You want to ride in the flats? Check. You want to ride in vineyards? Check. You want to ride along crystal-clear rivers, cross pine forests, get lost in tiny villages, get floored by poppy fields like you've never seen? Check again.

It looks almost as if the poppies have been planted, but they appear to be just "weeds"

Ocher in the Luberon, near Rousillion

More poppies--they are everywhere

Unfortunately, the lavender is not ready to blossom yet

If this is not cycling heaven, well, good luck finding it. Of course, there's always a little drawback, and here it is the almost perpetual wind that we've been experiencing. It's a little bit like West Texas: There's that wind. We experienced the ferocious Mistral while driving down here (and overnighting in the tiny hamlet of Charavines on Lac Paladru, about two hours southwest of Geneva), and there's always wind coming from the north, or the south, or from somewhere. On today's ride through Les Alpilles, a version of miniature Alps, we fought some real headwinds while at other times we were blown along as if we had eBikes. On Saturday, when I rode up the Ventoux, I had made sure to check the weather forecast to have a bit of a tailwind on those exposed slopes. Not that it helped much, of course.

The strangest way to "fix" a sign to an old plantain tree

Quiet, cool city center in the tiny hamlet of Cucuron, in the Luberon

Wherever one looks, there's something spectacularly rustic to see

Our rides have mostly been in the 30- to 35-mile range. That may not sound like much, but by the time that we have had our leisurely breakfast it's getting close to noon. Sometimes we start from the house in Lagnes, at other times we load up the bikes and drive a little farther afield. For us, riding is a means to see things, so there are lots of stops for photo opportunities. There are the stops to figure out which way we need to go, there are the pee stops, and there are the occasional stops for a beer. In other words, we have not been setting any world speed records for human-powered vehicles. It was a good thing that I changed our gearing a bit before this trip: We're using our standard compact cranksets with 50/34 rings, but in the rear I was able to fit 32s even with our regular short-cage Ultegra Di2 derailleurs thanks to WolfToothDesign adapters that allow for such ratios. On the Ventoux, where the early sections to the treeline are steeper than the final run-up to the top, I hardly ever shifted out of my 34/32. Oh, what a big pussy I am!

Posing in front of the memorial for Paul de Vivie, apostle of cyclotourism

Anyway, the bikes are doing great and we're having a ball riding all over the place. So far we've covered about 220 miles of some of the finest cycling country I have ever ridden in, and there's still more to come. The remaining hours of our days are filled with meal planning or preparing, lounging by the pool, route planning for the next day, relaxing, and most definitely drinking fine wine! Thanks to our hosts' Weber grill, I have been making decent meals at night (fresh meat and fish bought at the almost local Intermarche--Lagnes doesn't even have a bakery!), and we have been working on filling up the local glass recycling bins.

 Riding Les Alpilles

Plantains lead in and out of villages

Sabine just made a reservation for our two last nights in France up in the Burgundy area. As I mentioned, we have extended our stay here with Christophe and Natalie by three nights and will scoot out of here on Thursday morning. It's a leisurely two-day trip back to Freising, and we'll break it up with two nights in another Airbnb so that we get a chance to ride in a different region. We'll go from Cotes du Ventoux and Cotes du Luberon (we're situated on the west side of this rock outcropping) to Cotes du Rhone. Man, I tell you: France sure is fun!

Gordes, on the northern edge of the Grand Luberon

Roads all to ourselves, and other cyclists

Time for breakfast and another day in Provence. I'll try to write another update after we get back to Freising next weekend.

Jürgen

Of Dinosaurs and Gila Monsters (Or: Why I'm so glad I'm no longer a racer!)

That's what Gila Monsters look like

The past six days have seen me in two completely different locales: verdant Dinosaur Valley State Park close to Glen Rose, TX, and arid Silver City, NM, home of the Tour of the Gila, a 5-day road bike race. I traveled to both places to work at the bike races that were and are still taking place. At Dinosaur, I was the Chief Referee for the finals of our 5th season of the High School Mountain Bike Racing league, and here in Silver City I am a member of the crew for the amateur races of this UCI-ranked event. And both places have a strong connection to weird critters, one extinct and the other mostly invisible.

Not a T. Rex, but still a dinosaur of sorts

But let's not get ahead of ourselves: After my successful trip to Redlands, where I did indeed pass the A-Level road commissaire clinic, I stayed home for a few days and started to get back into a regular cycling routine. I have to tell you: The heart appears to be playing along! Being at home, riding, cooking, doing stuff around the house, and completing all those other domestic chores were quite nice after all the traveling I had been doing. Well, it didn't last long: High school race # 4 had been scheduled for the weekend right after Redlands but was postponed by a week because of insane rainfall in the Texas Hill Country. But postponed is not the same as cancelled, so a week later I was down in Comfort, just a tad north of San Antonio, to revisit a venue that was so dear to Judy and me when we were still working all those TMBRA races.

Tumbling competition at the HS Finals

The weekend was essentially a big homecoming for me: Flat Rock Ranch owners Jimmy and Terri welcomed me with warm and sincere hugs, like the old friends that we have been for so many years. I doubt that certain people in TMBRA who were behind the nasty politics that pushed Judy and me out of the circuit ever have or ever will get a hug like that. I spent a delightful hour with Milby, Jimmy's mother, in the old ranch house where we always stayed when we worked the races. Ah, sweet memories. And that wasn't all: Our old friend Christiane had invited me to stay at her place in Boerne on Saturday night, and she had invited David and Priscilla over, other dear friends with whom we had dinner and libations. I believe we finally went to bed well after 2 a.m. Thank you, my friends!

League director Vance McMurry and his darling daughter, Ella

The weather was perfect for the race, and we all had a good time. A week later, we repeated it all at Dinosaur. This time the "Homecoming" was a bit different in that it consisted of seeing old cycling buddies (Chad and wife Jennifer with their kids) and friends (Micki and Kent) while working the race wih all of our graduating seniors and some staff members who may not return next season. Once again we lucked out and enjoyed beautiful late spring weather in a spectacular setting. What a lucky guy I am to go to all these wonderful venues.

Starting one of the girls fields at Dinosaur

My drive to Dinosaur Valley and back was a bit on the sketchy side, though. I had changed the rear tires on the BMW just a few days earlier, and when I got on the road the car felt, well, just a bit different. It wasn't until more than 150 miles into the trip that I realized that the car simply didn't handle right, and what had seemed to be just "light" steering became outright dangerous once I got away from the arrow-straight four-lane highways into the twisty turns south of Eastland. In one easy turn it was the Beemer's traction control that kept me from going into the ditch, and from then on it was all just white-knuckled driving for the remainder of the weekend. Make a long story short: Once I was back in Lubbock on Monday morning, I went back to Discount Tire to change the front tires as well. (Discount had suggested in the first place to change only the rear tires--bad advice, as it turned out.) The car now feels normal again, and the 500-mile drive to Silver City later on that very same Monday turned out to be relaxed and enjoyable, the way the Dinosaur drive should have been. Thanks to everyone regarding the advice you gave me concerning the possible causes for the car's odd behavior, especially Patrick from San Antonio.

The long road from Carlsbad to El Paso, with El Capitan in the Guadelupe mountains

Here in Silver City most of our crew has been holed up in the illustrious Motel 6, where the most-touted guest amenity is "daily fresh hot coffee in the lobby." Wow, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure to be put up in such a place as a bike official. So, I am glad that I have brought my bike along so that after the day's races are completed I can escape the dungeon and exercise a little bit. I have a roommate, Michael, an official from Colorado, who is super-nice and makes it easier to stay here. The Tour of the Gila, a race in which I participated three times during my days as a racer, is a very tough event that sees lots and lots of climbing and is rightfully on USAC's National Racing Calendar for the amateurs and has been a UCI event for the Professionals for several years. It is exciting to be part of such a high-caliber race. Our chief, Steve, is an old friend and I am learning gobs on a daily basis under his leadership.

Have Beemer and Bike, will travel

So far I haven't seen any Gila Monsters on the side of the road. My driver on the first day, when I was Com 2 for the Men's 1/2 field, told me that this reptilian doesn't even live in this area of the Southwest but that one has to go farther south, close to the border with Mexico, to find them. I've seen them in captivity, and that's about all I have to tell you about these rather ugly-looking critters. My (almost) daily rides are punctuated by some of the country's worst road surfaces and the occasional red-neck in a big dualie diesel truck who enjoys "rolling coal" whilst passing. I suppose, Trump stands a good chance to win quite a few votes here.

New Mexico has some of the finest roads in the Lower 48, for sure--at the start of the TT course

Pre-riding the TT course and getting my bearings

Riding around here, on roads that I used to race on shows me how much has changed over the years. Just like at Dinosaur Valley (think steep hills, sharp rocks, scary downhills) I continually think about how glad I am that I no longer have a racing license. Oh man, even riding "easy" is hard! I have a lot of respect for my former fitness and stamina and wonder how I could have ever reached that level--or, in other words, I am trying to not think about how much I have managed to lose over the years! I will continue to ride, but if I ever had any secret ambitions and aspirations to return to racing, they have been stamped out in these past two weeks. Maybe not a bad thing--it makes it easier to enjoy the other side of life!

The view from my mobile office as Com 2 on Stage 1 to Mogollon

Today was Day 3 of the Tour. We held the Time Trial in at-times hellacious conditions. Maybe I shouldn't complain about the wind in Lubbock, after all. I worked various positions: Holder for the UCI Women's race, as well as starter, whip, and bike check dude for various amateur categories. After the race we all dug dust and gravel out of our eyes and ears. It all just confirmed my sentiment from the past few days: I'm sure as hell glad that I no longer race!

Amateur racers at the conclusion of Stage 1, a Cat. 1 climb to Mogollon

We have two more days in Silver City, the downtown criterium tomorrow and then on Sunday the much-dreaded Gila Monster queen stage that will decide this NRC and UCI event--103 miles with just shy of 10,000 feet of climbing. For my European readers, that's 166 kilometers and 2,853 meters of ascent. Yes, I used to do this, and no, I don't do it any longer, and yes, I'm quite OK with that! Let's see how I will feel about the Ventoux in Provence in two weeks' time. Hasta luego!

Jürgen

Tax Time

April 15 means Tax Day in the US, and my return is done. I had to pay uncle Sam a few pesetas this time around instead of getting a few centavos back--thus it goes. I had finished my taxes about two weeks ago in anticipation of my trip to Redlands, California, last week. Even with this kind of foresight, it's been once again a busy time in my life.

Paracyclists were part of the Redlands activities

My trip to the LA basin was quite successful, as I found out just yesterday: I had attended USA Cycling's first Level-A road Commissaire Seminar that has been offered in a while, hoping that I might learn a few things and maybe pass the class and thus increase my chances of working a few of the bigger US road races. On the mountain bike side I am at the top level, as an International Commissaire, but road opportunities have been rare and I was stuck at the B-Level (only one step up from the bottom rung) for years.

The peloton approaches the feed zone, as seen from the commissaires' car

Well, I am happy to say that after three days of excellent instructions by two of our best road commissaires, Phil Miller and Mimi Newcastle, I apparently didn't bomb the final exam (written and oral) too badly and actually passed the class. Yeah! Of course, that doesn't mean that I am qualified to be the Chief Referee for Road Nationals (although I am indeed the CR for the Mountain Bike National Championship later on this year in Mammoth, once again), but I have a much better understanding of our dynamic sport and hope to expand my horizons.

Commissaires watch the race from cool cars like this

This weekend I was supposed to working another high school mountain bike race, this one in Comfort, but the forecast of heavy rain resulted in a postponement until next week. Oh well, I didn't have anything planned for next week anyhow, so that's no big deal. The weekend after we'll have the HS finals in Dinosaur Valley, and then I'll turn around immediately and drive out to Silver City, NM, to work the Tour of the Gila, one of the premier races in our region, if not the US. I'm excited to be part of the crew for the first time ever.

Once I come back a week later I'll have about 36 hours to wash my clothes and get packed for another trip to Germany. Sabine and I are planning  cycling vacation in Frnce, so that will be fun. as you can see, life just keeps going for me!

Jürgen

PS: I apologize that post #250 in these chronicles deals with taxes and rather mundane trips, but that's all she wrote, as they say.

Travel on a smaller scale

Hard to believe, but three weeks have already passed again since the last blog entry. Athens seems like such a looong time ago ....

Mr. Thanksgiving prancing by

After returning from Europe at midnight on Thursday, March 17 (with only half of my luggage), I left Lubbock about 12 hours later (after picking up said luggage from the airport) and drove around 350 miles to just a bit south of Bertram, in the Hillcountry. It was time for another TX High School Mountain Bike League race weekend, and I had pre-arranged a stay with my in-laws, Mike and Candi. The two of them had sold their house in Midland at just about the right time, when the oil boom was booming like crazy, and are now owners of a gorgeous home in a nice-and-tidy gated community among the cedars, deer, and turkeys. We had a wonderful time together, and I hope to go back down there before long.

Mike and Candi on their most-excellent porch

The race came along just fine, even if we had several hospital transports for some of our student athletes. Friday night had brought some severe weather (Saturday and Sunday were gorgeous) with lots of rain and even hail, and swollen creek crossings made the course a bit slippery.

Student athletes pre-riding the course at Reveille Peak Ranch

Back in Lubbock I thought it was time to start my fat-gut-reducing program in earnest. Off the beta blockers and with what appears to be a normal heart-beat, I figured it was time to start riding again on a regular basis. Nope, I didn't overdo it; I mean, three rides of 31 miles and a bit of commuting to the grocery store and the bank, followed by a leisurely 43-miler a week ago Sunday is really, well, nothing--or so I thought. And on Monday the back reared its ugly head.

Balance in life--and good protection!

So, instead of being able to enjoy the last few days of nice weather I've been eating Motrins and taking things easy. Tuesday I was ready to get an epidural to get some relief (I had one of those a few years back), but since then things have become progressively better. I've even ridden the commuter a few times to the grocery store and the bank, but that's been the extent of my athletic endeavors. OK, so we continue to stay above the 1-9-0 mark on the scales. Disgusting.

Gotta love those Hillcountry spring colors

It didn't help that first I had a wonderful goodbye dinner with my friend Andrew who by now is in Spain in the first week of his around-the-world adventure. Follow his progress at andrewmonfort.wordpress.com. And neither did it  help that my New York buddy, Barry, was in town--you know, good food and drink. And then Miles from North Carolina announced that he needed a place to stay for a few days while in Lubbock. More good food and drink. What is a man supposed to do?

Lunch in Palo Duro

My old buddy Miles enjoying life

As a matter of fact, Miles and I have had a really good time together. He's here not only to see me but (maybe more so) to give advice to his old race mate Mark as well as see BSLT race director Mike. But yesterday we had the whole day for ourselves, and we took the Bimmer up to Palo Duro Canyon. Miles is not so mobile any longer, but we sure enjoyed a leisurely picnic in the canyons and some fine sightseeing. For Miles, at the young age of 77, it was a throw-back to times well in the past. Especially when you get to see the Wienermobile!

What's that?

Looks like a swollen mother termite abdomen.

No, it's the Wienermobile!!!!

Tomorrow he and I will go to the airport together. He will return to his Judy in Franklin, NC, while I will fly to Ontario, CA to attend a USAC road seminar in Redlands over the next few days. Yep, I was accepted to the A-clinic and hope that I will manage to progress from a Level B to a Level A road official. (That certification is different from my mountain bike palmares where I am at the top level, International; the anti-doping stuff is totally different from all this.) I'll be out in California for the remainder of the week and hope that I will pass the exam. Please wish me luck. And a cooperating back.

Jürgen