Food in Provence (and elsewhere)

It seems all the (cyclist) residents at Bois Joli want an early breakfast… Soon after we arrive the place is full of people and there is a long queue for the coffee machine. Two breakfasters must be the couple on a tandem I played tag with yesterday but I don’t recognise them until we’re preparing our bikes to set off. There’s a little more on offer for breakfast than yesterday but the croissant isn’t quite as crispy. A bit fuller on the inside, though, so probably another 7 on the Felicity scale.

Back in the room we realise we should probably have booked ahead for dinner in Lyon. The place Felicity & friends went to is closed on the weekend so we have to hope we can book for lunch or dinner when it opens on Monday (no web site…). Two places from the Michelin Guide do have web sites but are booked up for dinner. We decide to ask the hotel to help us when we get there.

J. has decided to go back to the Maison Memoriale and has a reservation for 11 there so stays on a bit as I head off for Lyon. Finding the start of the route is a little complicated but I’m soon on my way through countryside with fields of corn or sunflower, more than a few horses and the odd nuclear power station.

I take a second break just out of Anthon and start looking at lunch options. Things don’t look good for anywhere I’ll be around lunchtime but Les Platanes back down the road is open and, better still, right by the confluence of the Ain and the Rhône which I think deserves a visit.

There’s time for a beer before the kitchen opens and I opt for the cod plat du jour rather than the oysters. Gillardeau, my favourite, but probably best eaten with white wine and I still have 50km or so. The cod is good, though; another serendipitous restaurant find.

What I haven’t mentioned yet is that, far from there being a Mistral, there is a (strong) south west wind which has already been a pain but becomes much more so when I reach a path along the canal de Jonage. I persevere without electric assistance, though, and, fortunately, eventually reach a point where I turn into sheltering woods. With a sign giving distances to Geneva and the sea!

That was still a good distance from Lyon, but I get there eventually and decide to take a 15km ride around the Presqu’ile to see the Saône/Rhône confluence and also take the 3km bike tunnel under the Presqu’íle. As a sign of the wind strength, my bike blows over as I’m planning the route to the confluence. Then, as I get underway, J. calls. There’s not much I can do (not least as I’m speeding along having allowed myself maximum electric assistance for this sightseeing trip), but I stop on the Pont Pasteur and call back. Police are apparently blocking every entrance to Bellecour and J. needs to call the hotel but I have the number. We both figure some major attentat or such like but there’s not much I can do for the moment so I carry on my sightseeing tour.

The lack of a precise gpx track means I meander a while but I end up at the cathedral end of the Pont Napoléon just as J. calls again. There’s a dance parade. Understandable that cars aren’t allowed into the area, but J. on foot with our bags isn’t either. Surely dance parades need spectators? Again, there’s not much I can do so I head for the Pont Clemenceau where the tunnel starts. I’m on the right bank of the Saône, though, and the tunnel starts on the left. I stop and ask directions before the Clemenceau bridge and am told I should go back, cross and I’ll find it easily enough. I do and I don’t. Past the Clemenceau bridge I stop again and meet a couple the female half of which spent some time in Manchester but can’t remember where and the male half of which tells me Manchester is the home to the world’s best rock band. I assume he’s referring to Oasis. I don’t demur (I need directions, after all…) but he then mentions the Beatles, As I spent 6 years at university in Liverpool I correct his misunderstanding without fear of any consequences. I’m eventually told to head up from the Saône bank to the road level and that I can’t then miss it. I can. I’m a little frustrated at this point as I find a major road tunnel so loop round and finally, wonder of wonders, see a stream of cyclists heading to and from the parallel bike and bus tunnel. Yippee!

I’m a little less pleased when I end up nowhere near the Rhône bank I’d cycled along a couple of hours ago but I guess the tunnel is meant more for commuter cyclists than tourists. I find a way to a (good) cycle path up from the bank and thence to the Pont de la Guillotière on the other side of which I in turn meet intransigent security agents who insist I’m actually at the Sofitel just along to the left, not at the Royal on the Place Bellecour. Fortunately, just past the Sofitel there’s another road where I’m allowed past two checkpoints although I have to walk my bike past the second. A tired yippee!

91.37km, the last 200m or so on foot.

J. and I are finally reunited although some of our luggage (including all of my clothes) is still in the car which, fortunately, is in a nearby valet car park whose rates are not much more than those of the hotel. I take a shower whilst J. trogs off to ensure I can venture out decently later.

We find that it’s not just a dance parade, but what’s probably the opening ceremony for Lyon’s Biennale de la Danse. We have a view over the square from our room and there is some dancing on the stage but we’re a little too exhausted to go and look.

The hotel book us a table at the Auberge des Canuts and we have a reasonable meal although my choice of steak tartare on the basis I would really like some chips proves misguided: it comes with pommes grenailles… Not a common accompaniment I suspect! Walking back to the hotel we see the tail end of the lunar eclipse: