St Paul de Vence > Gourde > Grasse > Cannes

32° to 41°C, full sun negligible wind. Zero cloud.

St. Paul de Vence. I missed the turning to the best route. The initial stage had heavy traffic but nothing compared with the last part. There was a steady 5% climb and then turn at the garage to approach the village from the north.

View from Gourde

Pont De Loup: a small village below Gourde that appeared on my route just at the time I was out of water. I asked a young local woman about water and she pointed towards a fountain in teh wall so I got my fill. She suggested that water was safe, but frankly, I was so thirsty, I took the risk.
Next I rolled into the village and stopped for an Ice Tea. Then returned to the fountain where the road turns for Bramafan. This is another steady 5% climb which I comfortably chugged along. There are a few tunnels up here, one of which had no lights. Traffic was so light that it didn’t matter. Just before one of the tunnel entrances, I looked up to an amazing sight. A real Mare’s tail of a waterfall.

Gourde this was a relief after St Paul. There were tourists but not excessively. A nice German woman in the tourist info explained about the spring water fountains. Those fountains are regularly tested for safety. So my risk was justified.

Grasse: this stage should have been a chance to raise the average pace from the long climb to Grourde. But here I found rush hour traffic and effectively rode with brakes on most of the time. Another problem was a result of inadequate planning – my map wasn’t that good.

Cannes: horrible heavy traffic. Drivers were reasonable but it was the sheer number of vehicles plus weaving mopeds. Progress was slow, bumper to bumper.

Race day.

10°C, light S, dry & bright.

Saddle.

A fun circuit round a familiar 23 mile route. 

Today is The Grand  National where thousands get dressed up to go and watch live horse whipping. The winning horse ended the day in tragedy. And as if I didn’t hate horse racing enough, this happened…

Through the last village I looked across to see a woman dressed up as if to go to a wedding. But she was on all fours with her head down looking between her hands. And there between her hands was a puddle of yellow vomit.

I felt disgusted by that sight and that these people support a sport that is usually associated with animal cruelty.

Ribble Coastal Path

This was supposed.

This was supposed to be a relaxing hour long loop. It was harder and longer. The ground was hard & cracked on the sea defence dyke which hammered my hands and reduced speed to about 6 mph. Eventually, I got to Tarleton at 6 pm and hungry.

The return was easier on normal tarmac. Anyone thinking of rising this part of the National Coastal Path might consider using front suspension ( if you have that choice).

Cleats.

11°C, light cloud. Brisk southerly & dry

Used a chunk of the morning to service the cross bike. It has internally routed cables and those bits need care. The worst thing to do is lose the cable end inside the frame. I didn’t do that. My troubles were from a cable sheath end-stop stuck in the frame. That took ages to get out.

Anyway, I got out on the racelite and rode until I got tired: 45 miles.