Cycling from Valence, France to Tarascon, France

The next morning was cold and overcast and the mistral was roaring, fortunately in my direction. It wasn't long before it turned sunny, though. The next hostel wasn't for a long way and I was resigned to a hotel for the night. After feeling the force of the mistral, I stuck with the N7, there being no smaller roads along the Rhone. It wasn't really bad, though, with nice shoulders and the AutoRoute was nearby and carried most of the traffic. About 15km into the day I hit a bump and the bolt holding my seat to the seatpost parted, leaving my seat hanging on the side, held by the toolbag's velcro strap. Nothing to do but stand up and pedal back to the last bike shop in Portes-le-Valence. After a few minutes I was on my way, but my arms sure hurt for a while. Didn't see another bike shop for the rest of the day. Got lost outside of Montelimar and ended up crossing the Rhone to the N86 in Viviers.

Trying again for something light, I ended up with steak hache and frites. Oh, well, by this time I had covered 80 km and decided to try to make it to Tarascon, another 80km. As the sun got higher, the mistral roared and my average speed was the highest it's ever been. At Orange, with a lot of hotels, I committed to trying to make Tarascon and finally got a yellow road down to Avignon. Almost immediately fatigue set in and at 130km the sun was getting lower and lower. By now I had lost count of how many times I crossed the Rhone. At Avignon, I got the D2 on the west bank and struggled down to the crossing at Barbentane.

This was the last stretch into Tarascon along rocky cliff and, seeing I would definitely make it by dark, again with the mistral at the back, I felt revived and cruised into the town with the odo just at 165km, a century ride. The hostel was really pleasant with a roaring fireplace and run by an older couple with a young child, a welcome change from the kind of "official" hostels in Lyon and Valence. Only trouble was no evening meal, so I splurged and had a restaurant meal, returning to the company of a Quebecois and a Dutch woman. Have still seen no Americans.