Roadside flowers

The unusual amount of rain here this summer has had the positive side-effect of lush greenery and abundant flowers. One of the joys of cycling, if you're doing it for fun, is that a bike takes along at just the right speed to see lots of stuff around you, without taking too long to get anywhere. (Of course if you're doing really proper training you'll be hurting too much to be sightseeing as well - but I like to think that I can push myself reasonably hard as well as taking in the world around me. But then, I'm not racing.)  Combine that with the ease of stopping and the quality of relatively cheap decent cameras (I'm mostly using a Sony HX50), and in an area as photogenic as this, you soon have a pile of photos taken. And so for something a bit different, I've been stopping to take snaps of those easily overlooked roadside flowers.

Well, I'm no botanist, so I've no idea what the names of the below are, in English or in French. And sort-of apologies for being so unscientific and giving you no scale for the flowers. But I hope you'll agree that there is something pretty in all of these photos, though some of them are tiny flowers. And in that case, what's the importance of size?

Col de Pennes 1040m - route 1

Unlike Col de Rousset, which is really a one-sided event (the spectacle and thrills are to the south of the col), Col de Pennes has four approaches, all worthwhile. From the east you can ascend from/descend to Recoubeau or Barnave, and on the western side there two roads from the Roanne Valley. I've ascended from both of these from the valley, and neither is particularly comfortable: the ascent through Pennes le Sec is unrelenting at the start, and the ascent via Aucelon keeps a bit of a sting in the tail.

Anyway, today, for the first time, I ascended from the east, via Barnave, and descended via Aucelon. It was a treat: the hairpins (nine of them) above Barnave give the feel of a proper (mini) Alpine climb, and quickly get you up to the col, at 1040m (from about 450m at the main road). From there, watch out for the sharp left turning to Aucelon (see photos). Do be cautious on the descent: there were a few gravelly bits, bit even with a perfect surface this wouldn't be a descent to find your top speed, as it's full of blind twists and turns, and some steepish drops to your right.

One observation I made while doing this ride was how on the ascent from Barnave the road gets to the col despite the geography (hence the hairpins), yet the Aucelon descent really works with the geography, following the contours round every little valley.

Anyway, enough words, and now for a pile of photos. I'll annotate them at some stage when I'm on a PC (it's a laborious task on a tablet), but they tell the story in the order below. They are a mixture of helpful (I hope) and pretty. Though the one of me doesn't fall into either category.

The D93, French road signs, and drivers.

You can't avoid the D93 in these parts: it's the artery that feeds all the towns and villages all the way from Saillans in the west to Col de Cabre in the east, and forms a substantial part of the road that goes from the Rhône to Gap and on to Italy. Of course, the geography being as it is in these parts, it shadows both the river Drôme and the railway. But as a cyclist, you'll probably get to know it rather better than either river or railway.

From Die, the only way you'll avoid it completely is if you head straight up to the Vercors plateau. But like it or loathe it, the D93 is the way to access an enormous variety of routes west, south and east. But it can also have its pleasures in its own right.

For a start, it is your archetypal French road: great surface (regularly maintained), often with a decent cycle lane, good views, and gently undulating (until Col de Cabre). Secondly, it is not boring, unlike some dead straight Napoleonic roads. Having said that, it can be gruelling: into a headwind, with rain, tired legs, and if you're in a hurry, it can seem interminable: at those times, you've just got to get your head into the place where you can grind out the miles, with teeth gritted, though I will admit to trying to plan routes that don't end with a 20-mile slog along the D93 into a strong headwind.

And so to the advisory bit of this post. Firstly, road signage, and specifically 'priorité a droite'. The default position in Framce is that you give priority at any junction to the road on your right, even if it's a small street joining a bigger one. This will often have a warning 'X' sign. However, this default can be overridden either with a sign giving priority at a specific junction to the 'main road', or by a general cancelling of PaD, signalled by a large yellow diamond. The yellow diamond with a line through re-establishes PaD. (See photos for examples of these signs.) It's not really as complicated as it sounds: most main roads outside of towns and villages aren't PaD, and if you're unsure at a specific junction, just take care!

Lastly, (with reference to the D93): French drivers. French drivers in these parts tend to drive fast, and many will tailgate and overtake other cars as if they are at Le Mans. That said, the vast majority are respectful of cyclists, and you won't suffer any punishment passes.

However, at the same time, most will assume that the D93 (and roads like it) are at all times wide enough for two cars AND a bike, so don't be surprised to be overtaken in places where in Britain the car would hold back. And very occasionally you'll find a car overtaking towards you, and you'll think that they haven't seen you, or reckon you only need 2ft. And lastly, you might see the advisory signs saying "Je dépasse 1.5m",  to warn drivers to give cyclists 5ft of clearance: most do, but if they pass you at 60mph, 5ft doesn't feel like very much. The advisory cycle lanes are good, as far as they go, but are prone to disappear without warning in places where you really could do with one. So, for lane usage, my advice would be to cycle in the cycle lane where there is one, and as close to the dotted white line as is safe, when there isn't a lane: I don't think French drivers have heard of 'primary position', and if they have, it's up there with philosophical debate with Satre and existentialism. Oh, and do be careful approaching roundabouts: French drivers practise their artistic skills in their vicinity.

However, all that said, I do think it's generally a safe and pleasurable road for cyclists (especially out of the peak weeks of summer); but do keep your wits about you, and look for the pleasant diversions (where they exist) if you're less confident about cycling on main roads, or find it challenging to ride in a straight line.

Me, I like the D93. Most of the time.

A couple more cols...

A short report on a ride I didn't get round to last year, and including a col I lost my nerve on at New Year (but which George Humby braved the ice to reach): Col de Cabre (on the D93) and Col de Carabes, above Valdrôme. You'll find the route on the 'Routes' page on this blog.

In fact, I decided to do it the opposite way from the route as devised. Looking at the map, the descent east from Col de Carabes looked very sketchy (it is!), and as it turned out, it was the right call, as the descent from Col de Cabre east was superb, and with a tailwind. But that ascent (as it was) to Col de Carabes was quite stunning: you get to look back down on a good part of the crazy road once you're near the top. Thank goodness for mad French road builders of times past, and a system that manages to maintain them today.

So, an 84-mile route from home, in time for lunch at the busy little village of Serres, and lots of stops for water, making use of the many fountains along the route. That's because it's been 30C in the shade today: normal service has been resumed.

Back for an extended stay...

I've no complaints about my work in teaching - I'm lucky to have a varied 'portfolio', work with lovely pupils and colleagues, and get to do fabulous things like taking the Devon Youth Jazz Orchestra to play in the Montreux Jazz Festival (just last month). And of course, I've no complaints about the school holidays - indeed, it was one of the calculations about buying the house how many weeks a year I could use the house. This year it'll be about nine weeks, five of which I've just started: I won't see Devon for the whole of August. That's a first for me. Recharging time. That's the downside of a full teaching calendar: pretty complete exhaustion, both brain and body.

I've got friends coming for a week on August, but for now it's me, the house, and the bike. I got here by a combination of car (to Exeter airport), plane (to Charles de Gaulle airport), trains (to Die, changing at Valence), and feet (to home). About 12 hours in all, but could have shortened that by a couple of hours if I hadn't been cautious about transfer time at CdG. All very civilised, anyway, and not nearly as frazzling as driving.

Anyway, the first full day was, er, wet. (Of course it's dry and sunny in Devon.) The second day started with obligatory visit to Die's excellent market, to stock up on vegetables and plentiful and cheap soft fruit.

And after lunch, to business: the first proper ride. The Cannondale SuperSix was ready, clean and lubricated as I'd left it. Some air on the tyres, and a flat 45 miles out to Blacons and back. I know I've been way down on training miles this year, so I'm going to have to ride myself to proper fitness in the first couple of weeks.

I do have one particular ride I'd particularly like to try: a flat 100 miles along the Drôme and Rhône, and I want to see if I can do it at 20mph. I know I haven't got it in me on Devon's lumpy terrain and variable roads, and if I'm going to do it anywhere, it'll be here. At 50 maybe it's being optimistic, but I hope to give it a shot.

Just one photo for now: rain, and a rainbow over Romeyer at the end of my ride to Blacons. Very pretty, but I'd like to get back to the sunshine now please.