July 20

We left Arromanches by taxi because it was way too far to walk and the bus was far too troublesome. We needed to get to the Bayeaux train station for our train to Amboise later in the day. When we got there we ran into the couple we had met on the tour the previous day. After we left the tour to walk back to our hotel they went to a bar with the guide and some of his local friends. They were a lively bunch, apparently, and actually started a party complete with dancing during a traffic jam.

We were hopeful that we could get to know these two a bit better since they had said they were headed toward Amboise, but their unstructured schedule allowed them to head to Mont Ste. Michelle instead, so we parted ways.

We had a few hours to kill before our train so we walked into downtown Bayeaux and found a full-scale street fair in process. The fair appeared to be the real deal with everything from washing machines to clothing set on the sidewalk. We were conned into buying a pair of pants that wound up being a size too small for Amy.

Our train from Bayeaux took us to Caen where we transferred to a high speed to Tours. From Tours, which appeared to have no redeeming qualities except we were able to head toward Amboise.

Our B&B was supposed to be very near the train station in Amboise, but we had no luck finding it. We wandered all around before finally stumbling on it almost by accident. Our hostess spoke only the tiniest bit of English, but she was kind enough to use small words and speak slowly. She asked us to pay in advance (since we are obviously dodgy looking), but she also gave us refreshments and showed us to a huge bedroom fronting on an enclosed garden courtyard.

The main part of Amboise was across the Loire river, about 10 minutes away by foot, so we grabbed our day pack and jumped back on our feet. Most of the shops were still open, but we didn't find anything we wanted. We did find a decent place to eat where we could relax and plan for tomorrow. We laid down some ambitious goals:

We're hoping to see the da Vinci museum and take a tour of the valley's cheateaus and do laundry. I think the day will likely end watching the fireworks above the chateau here in Amboise. It'll be just like the Fourth of July except in French and with a castle. Ok, so maybe not so much like Independence Day, but still cool.

Dang, I'm tired just writing about it now.

July 21

We started the day with a breakfast that would have rivaled some of the biggest English breakfasts. Unlike the Brits, however, it wasn't designed to kill you. There were tons of different little bits of this and that. The downside was that we felt we needed to make a dent in them all, even the nasty, nasty rillets (or something like that) which appeared to be like a thick pork paste.

Our first stop of the day was at the ever-so-entertaining... laundromat! Woo hoo!

That was fun.

Actually, it was a good chance to get some errands done. I ran around and bought a couple of postcards for 1.50FF each to break some 50FF notes to get change for the washers. While wandering around I also bought tickets for tonight's "Spectacle" and reserved a couple of bicycles for tomorrow. The machines were slow, so I even managed to get the postcards written and posted.

With fresh smelling clothes we packed them into Amy's pack and headed up the hill to Leonardo da Vinci's last home. It's been converted to a museum that tries to recreate the way it looked when he last lived there and has a bundle of models built by IBM. It was big enough to be really impressive, but still small enough to actually seem livable.

Pretty much the whole bottom floor was given over to the models. Each one showed some piece of the future Leonardo had seen. He had an automatic rifle, cars, and an airplane. How can you explain all that he knew? Could he have visited the future or did someone visit him?

Since we certainly weren't able to answer these questions we headed back into town to catch our tour. It showed up spot on time in the form of two minivans with only one driver with English skills. Although we were in the other van, he gave us his spiel broadcasting over the radio. The plan was to visit two of the many chateaus in the valley and see a bundle of others from the road. It took us about an hour to get to the first one which I think was Chambord.

Chambord was a hunting lodge used by the king (and any current French president willing to bear the stigma of being a hunter), but in total the king only used it for a total of about 39 days.

The interior was very bare and cold. The highlights were the double-helix staircase designed by the prolific Leonardo and the roof. With 365 fireplaces the roof bristles with chimneys and was designed to look like the skyline of a small city.

From Chambord it was an hour to Chenenceau. (No surprise, I can't spell any of these wacky French names. Oh well.) This is the chateau built on a bridge across a river. The building itself is pretty small with only a couple dozen rooms. It's likely a room count under 100 made it seem a lot more habitable, though just barely. Apparently, it was mostly built by Francois I's wife and mistress which probably accounts for its homey feel. One of the bits we read said that this river was the border between occupied and unoccupied France during WWII and prisoner exchanges occurred here.

We actually saw a fair number of other chateaus, but mostly in passing as in "look off to ze leffed and you vill see de chateau of ______," but they don't really merit mention here. (Especially because they didn't merit mention in the journal and I've lost many of the details only six short months later.)

We were dropped off near our B&B so we had a few moments of relaxation in the sun before heading back into town for dinner. We had tickets to the Cheateau d'Amboise Spectacle, but what to expect? We ate quickly, but then got delayed when it came time to pay as the waitress decided not to pay any attention to us. Oh well, no tip for her.

The show turned out to be a huge multimedia affair that seemed to include the entire population of Amboise. Think of a massive high-school drama production and you're dead on. The best parts were completely unscripted; kids running to say hello to their parents instead of hitting their marks and the repeated shock of the crowd when fireworks exploded seemingly at random. An interesting show, but expensive and it didn't end until quite late. I'd skip it if we went back.

July 22

It's only 5pm and my day might as well be done. I don't want to eat, I don't want to drink, I don't want to walk, ... and I certainly don't want to see another bicycle for quite a while. That's right, today was "ride through the vineyards of the Loire valley" day.

We picked up our bikes downtown around 10am and were soon on the road heading north. We got to Poce sur Cisse in 10 minutes and turned west. 10 more minutes brought us to Nazelles Negron. The weather was great; mid 70s, light wind, and not a cloud in the sky. The ground was flat and our route was well marked.

At Nazelles we turned north and climbed onto a plateau where the vines stretched to the horizon broken only by the occasional field of sunflowers with their faces following the sun across the sky. We came down the hill to the sleepy town of Noizay where it seemed every house had a wine cellar offering free tastings.

All the towns were at the bottom of the cliffs upon which the grapes grew. The houses were built right into the face of the cliffs and the naturally climate-controlled caves made for great wine cellars. Some of the houses were traditional, but others looked to be more than little holes carved in the rock.

Of course, the day we chose to ride was Sunday so most of these mini-wineries were closed, but we did find one that was open. We parked the bikes and wandered into the courtyard to find it empty. Thinking they must be in the cave we ventured in, but alas, although all the accoutrements of business were present the proprietor was not. Not wanting to be branded intruders (or the French equivalent) we quietly slipped out and continued down the road.

From Noizay we again turned north and back up to the plateau toward Chancay which beckoned us with the promise of cold water and chocolate, but wound up locking us out since it was, after all, Sunday. Nowhere had the respect for the day of rest been as deep as here in rural France. It struck us that perhaps we really were off the path beaten into the earth by thousands of tourists. Rick would be proud of us.

Coming down from the next plateau we found Vernou sur Brenne and rejoined the main tourist track. Instead of a barely paved path we were back on a three-lane highway which, of course, began heading uphill again. Enough was enough so we headed downhill and away from the tourist's wine road.

At about 1:30pm we rolled into Vouvray which was to be our farthest point from Amboise. The plan was to cross the Loire and head back through a series of small towns on the far shore. Enter the roundybout.

It seemed logical enough to follow the signs to Amboise, but we should have taken the turn to Tours which, although in the opposite direction, would have taken us across the river and back to the wine road on the opposite bank. Dang.

On our side the road was a no-nonsense, screw you Mr. and Mrs. Tourist, let's go to Amboise right now and no, we're not going to provide you with a bike lane type of road. On the upside, there was nothing to distract us from riding as fast as we could. We ditched the bikes to the amusement of the shop owner who had a sort of "well, duh, it's harder than it looks, huh" look on his face.

In all we rode about 30km which really isn't that bad for a couple of folks who haven't been on bikes in a very long time. The scenery and experience were fantastic and I'd do it again, though at the time I swore I was done with bicycles forever.

The rest of the night we lay around the B&B preparing for an early departure. Amboise has been great, but we've exhausted both ourselves and all the opportunities here. Next up is Sarlat in the Dordogne river valley to the south.

Allons-y! (That's supposed to be "let's go," but French is one of those foreign-type languages that I don't speak very well.)