Things we have learned from our Ardeche drama

Adrian's Dujarrier support

Whatever happens in life it is useful to learn from our experiences to hopefully be better prepared next time. Following on from our Ardeche drama, see part one here and part two here, there are a few things we have learned:

We certainly won’t be heading out on the bikes again without carrying emergency information, including name, date of birth, Carte Vitale number and top-up insurance details, plus name and mobile number of someone to contact in the event of an accident. Adrian even considered having a tattoo done, until he realised a change in phone number could become a painful correction.

Most cycle jerseys have a small zip pocket, which although too small for a mobile phone could hold the above emergency information. Thankfully Adrian had safely stored his car key in this pocket on the day of his accident. If he had lost the keys as well as his phone and contents of his pockets (some bits were scattered over two metres down a steep ravine) it would have been so much more difficult to stay in touch and get him home.

Wearing a Dujarrier, with it’s thick padded straps passing under both armpits, when it’s hot, is not pleasant. Thankfully he has plenty of wet-wipes and the tender loving fingers of his wife to wipe him down and keep him as comfortable as possible.

Never underestimate Girl Power; when a Mother and a wife get together to plan a rescue mission they are a force to be reckoned with.

It has also confirmed what great friends and neighbours we have; from the many well wishes to the assurances of help should we need it. Our neighbour Pierrette, who is so often a source of inspiration, had a similar experience that has given us hope. In her seventies, she regularly cycles and a few years ago fell off her bike, finding herself alone, with no mobile and a very sore shoulder. In 35º heat she pushed her bike the 4km back to her house and the following morning got herself checked out at the hospital. Her shoulder was broken. She too had a Dujarrier to wear, day and night for a month, then days only for another month. She didn’t have an operation or any physiotherapy and assures us she now has full movement, no pain at all and is back on her bike too. Adrian is seeing the orthopaedic surgeon next Monday, so fingers crossed.

Google streetview D236 Ardeche - Back towards the bend.

There are also a few things we will never know for sure:

Exactly what did happen around 09.30am on the D236, just after Adrian cycled around this left-hand corner in the road at 45km/hour. The crash left his saddle bent and badly torn, possibly from a somersaulting bike? The wheels are bent, but he managed to get back on the bike immediately afterwards, carrying on downhill for two and half kilometres, occasionally popping his shoulder back into place, before realising his phone wasn’t in his pocket. Leaving the bike at a food station, he walked back uphill to search for his possessions. It was while wandering back downhill, the Gendarmes picked him up and terminated his cycling for the day. With no scratches or damage to his helmet, he can’t have banged his head, despite his behaviour.

Garmin damage, thanks Mini

Why Adrian’s Garmin satnav/computer, which survived the crash sadly didn’t survive Mini’s moment of madness. Our generally well-behaved, nine and a half year old Labrador cross, took it from his cycle bag a week after the accident and ate it! Carefully managing to break the screen at the top and destroy the data card held in the bottom. Thanks Mini.

Why he obviously wasn’t supposed to cycle up Mont Ventoux – again. Adrian’s plan had been to head home from the Ardeche via Mont Ventoux and treat his legs to another gruelling climb. The first time he planned to ride up Provence’s famed mountain, Gizmo the Mini Cooper broke down (see here) so we never made it there. I’m yet to decide whether I let him plan another attempt at the climb.

Life can be funny at times, but I’m convinced everything happens for a reason.

Rescue mission Ardeche

Adrian sporting his Dujarrier shoulder support

Before I continue with our Ardéche drama I’d just like to say THANK YOU! Following my first post we have received so many lovely messages wishing Adrian a speedy recovery, here on the blog, on Facebook and in person, it really has cheered us up, thank you all.

I don’t know about you, but we both rely on our mobile phones to be our phone books, which we have now discovered can be a problem. Following the dramatic fall at 45km/h that saw him, his bike and everything in his pockets scattered down an Ardéche hillside, Adrian was without his mobile. The only phone numbers he could remember were our landline and his Mum’s landline – in the UK. Knowing Ed and I were out, his only option of getting a message to me was to beg/borrow the use of a phone to call his Mum, Sandra and hope she was home.

Ed and I returned home once we had spoken to Sandra and there began the telephone vigil, alongside regular texting between Sandra and I, and the wonderings of what happens next. A couple of times Adrian managed to use a phone at the hospital and let me have a brief update, but the day was long and the hours ticked slowly by.

His x-rays

His first call reassured me he was basically OK, although with some damage to his left shoulder that meant it was refusing to stay in place. X-rays show a large gap between his arm and shoulder, but the doctor was happy that there was no break. This was the good news, however by mid afternoon he still had no idea when they would let him go and more importantly how he would get from Valence back to St Félicien, about an hours drive up into the Ardéche hills.

His journey there had been a dramatic blue-light ambulance ride, strapped to a bed with heart monitors too and although he was by no means the only cyclist taken there, most people had friends or family arrive to take them home. That was my big problem. How did I get myself 600kms to his bedside without driving, as having two cars but potentially only one driver wasn’t very practical. My only option was to sit and wait some more, but during the afternoon thoughts like will he need an operation?, how long will they keep him?, how will he get back to St Félicien?, how will he cope camping alone?, how will he get back home to us?, went around and around in my head. Adrian says that all that was going through his head was how was the bike and what would the wife say!

Mid afternoon and his missing phone rang me! A French lady called Natalie advised me the phone had been found and handed into the Ardéchoise officials; proving there are still good and honest people in the world! I told her his entry number, name and what I knew about his current whereabouts. By this point his car and tent were in one location in St Félicien, his bike elsewhere in St Félicien, his phone was being held in a neighbouring village, he was in Valence and I was at home. It was a real logistical nightmare.

We needed a Rescue Mission Plan, but I wasn’t sure anyone would be willing to hop in my 13 year old, manual gear box car, that currently has no air con and drive across France with me in temperatures over 35º, then return alone in it while I chauffeured Adrian home in his automatic car, which has air con, cruise control and speed limiter. However, I was wrong. Sandra couldn’t book her plane ticket fast enough and even once we had our plan in place our very good neighbours were slightly offended I hadn’t called them to action earlier in the day.

Once strapped up in a padded brace that tightly holds both shoulders back and together, his arm is relatively stable and once they were happy the hospital released him with a medical report, lots of prescriptions for pain killers and his x-ray pictures. At each step of his ‘adventure’ he was asked for his Ardéchoise entry number, so someone somewhere in their control centre was keeping an administrative eye on him. I can’t thank them enough, especially as they kept his bike safe, returned his phone and organised and paid for a taxi to get him back to the campsite, at a cost of 186€. They even phoned on Friday to see how he was doing.

His last meal had been the saucisson and cheese at 9.00am, so it was a tired, weary and hungry husband who returned to his empty tent at 20.45. Thankfully his car key hadn’t been lost and in the car was his UK mobile, giving us direct communication for the first time all day. It was so much more reassuring for me once we could talk and message, despite him sounding so fed up. His main concern initially was how he was going to get his bike back!

Meanwhile Sandra and I had been busy hatching our rescue plan and my five-year-old nephew seemed to think Grandma and Auntie Jacqui were just like the real-life Paw Patrol off to rescue Uncle Ade. If she flew to us, we could share the drive to him and then have two drivers to get the cars home. Needless to say he wasn’t keen! He still has some movement in his arms and he was sure he could manage to drive a left hand drive automatic. He was also determined to start making his way home as soon as possible, rather than spend another night with an achy shoulder, camping out on an airbed and with no shower.

Having made two short drives to collect his bike and phone, with the help of some friendly fellow cyclist/campers he packed the tent and car and carefully made his way to a hotel in St Etienne. However he did reluctantly agree to our rescue mission, so a flight was booked for Sandra and a route plotted to get us to his hotel in St Etienne. He then figured if he was OK following the drive to St Etienne on Sunday, it should be possible for him to make his way a little closer on Monday morning, thus reducing our journey time to him.

Just before midday on Monday we all met up in a coffee shop in Montluçon. It had been a hectic few days, we’d all been driving since early morning and still had to return home, but all that really mattered was that he wasn’t alone anymore.

Taking things easy

It’s certainly been a long week, but Adrian is taking things easy, receiving lots of TLC, feeling a bit better and a little less bruised, although it will be a while before he is out on the bike again.

Ardour in the Ardeche, the call I didn't want to receive

Camping at the Ardechoise

There comes a time when we have to accept those around us need to step away and gain some independence. This letting go is often outside our comfort zone, but has to be done. This was how I was feeling letting Adrian head off to the Ardeche last week, with his bike and camping equipment, but without me. Having really enjoyed himself on the Ardechoise last year, when we were there together, it seemed mean to refuse to let him go this year, despite one of us needing to be at home to support Ed (and taxi him back and forth) through his first Baccalaureate exams.

Ardechoise sportive

It’s not often Adrian immerses himself into an all French environment without Ed or I for (language) support and I thought it would be a good experience for him. I was also a tiny bit jealous that he was off to the Ardeche and I was stuck at home. A 130km sportive, taking in the hills and villages of the Ardeche, fully supported with food stops in villages decked out with bunting and an air of ‘fête’, what could possibly go wrong?

Ardechoise cycle themed decorations 

Quite a bit as it happens!

Food stop at the Ardechoise

My Saturday began with an early start to collect Ed from an over night party and take him to a pretty garden where the music school were putting on a small outdoor concert. Adrian phoned me at 8.00am to say he was off and then at 9.00am he texted me to show me his first re-fuel of saucisson and St Felicien cheese – yummy. I was then driving for about an hour and a half and then occupied with a slightly jaded teen, who was certainly tired and dehydrated, but putting on a brace face setting up his guitar and amp while the trumpets performed a sound test.

Ed performing at the pigeonnier

It briefly crossed my mind about 11.00am that it was rather quiet from the Ardeche, but I wasn’t overly concerned. Halfway through Ed’s brilliant (I’m his Mum so would say that) performance of Apache my mobile rang, a UK mobile number that would have cost me a fortune to accept, so I declined it. Once Ed was done, my brain remembered the mobile number was quite possibly Adrian’s Mum’s number. A quick text, ‘did you just ring?’ was immediately answered with a ‘Yes, ring me NOW!’

This is how I found out that Adrian had fallen off his bike, injured his shoulder, was on his way to an unknown hospital and had lost his phone in the fall. All this 600km from home, alone with no back up and very little French.

It’s certainly been a busy few days, with multiple logistical problems and plenty of stress, but I’ll tell you more about that later. The important thing is that he is home, damaged and fed up, but home.

The Via Rhôna, cycling in the Ardeche

Our circuit in the Ardeche

Here is part two of our Ardeche cycling adventure. Part one (see here) saw us take the Train de l’Ardeche steam train up to Lamastre and cycle back to the Rhône on the Dolca Via. To complete our circuit back to Tournon-sur-Rhône we joined the Via Rhôna from La Voulte-sur-Rhône and followed the mighty River Rhône. While not as dramatic as the Dolce Via it is a flat, fast running, cycling superhighway from Lake Geneva in the north to the Mediterranean in the south. The Dolce Via had been so beautiful but now we had reached the flat, busy and industrial banks of the Rhône, and it was a vast contrast.

We detoured into La Voulte-sur-Rhône to find a bar, but it was a little uninspiring, so we made our way to the river and cycled along the road until we found an access point to the cycle path. I remember noting how full the river was and how close it was to bursting its banks, but didn’t think too much about it. The Via Rhôna path soon left the quayside and disappeared into a leafy green section, the river to our right and dense undergrowth to our left. We could hear a main road somewhere but we couldn't see any other signs of life. 

Flooded, muddy Rhône

We hadn't gone far when we came across a short flooded section of the path. Adrian bravely led the way and it soon became evident it was rather deeper than we had first thought and as we peddled, we got wet feet. Hoping this was the only wet bit, we carried on until we found a section that had been flooded, but the water had receded leaving the pathway muddy. Again, this turned out to be deeper than we thought and hidden in the grey silty mud was gravel that stuck to the mud and then stuck to the bikes. I made it out the other end to find thick mud and grit jammed everywhere; wheels, brakes, gears and frame. The only option was to pick it all out. Adrian wasn't so lucky. The mud and grit had locked his back wheel and bent the bracket that attaches the derailleur to the frame.

The mud, after attempts to clean it off

There followed a moment of panic when we truly thought we might be stranded. There was no exit from the cycle path; it was either carry on and hope there was no more, or return through the evil mud and at this point we didn’t even know if Adrian could free his back wheel. We made use of the prolific Japanese knotweed (first use I've found for it) and used the large leaves as wipes to clean the bikes as best we could. After a roadside repair, Adrian managed to select a gear that didn't seem to be causing any more damage and his wheel turned once more, but changing gear was out for him for the next 20 km at least. We were warned by a German cyclotourist (who we persuaded to turn back to avoid the mud) that there were a few more flooded sections up ahead, but no more impassable mud.

We limped on slowly, using the wet sections to wash the bikes. One very deep flooded section looked too much for me to cycle through, even though two Dutch cyclists sped through as we were dithering at the edge. We waded through calf-deep water, which meant very soggy shoes and socks for the rest of the day. To say it was a relief to find the end of this isolated section was a bit of an understatement. It really took the edge off what had been a fantastic day on the bikes.

 

Le Cèdre de Soyons

We had planned to detour to see some sights, including the village of Beauchastel, but we abandoned that idea and headed slowly and carefully straight for our hotel. Our hearts sank when we saw the elegance of the villa we arrived at. We were hot, sweaty, mud splattered and my shoes were squelching with every step and caked in thick, grey mud. However, Le Cèdre de Soyons is an accueil vélo hotel and the young couple that run it couldn’t have been more helpful or friendly. They showed us straight to a workshop where the bikes were stabled beside their immaculate Harley Davidson. Adrian was given a box of brand new bike tools and bits, and told to use whatever he needed to try and fix a temporary repair on his gears. I was helped to our room with all our mucky bags and the owner wouldn’t hear of me removing my shoes and socks, so embarrassingly I dripped grey sludge all the way up the stair carpet.

 

My pear and almond dessert at Le Cèdre de Soyons

The bedroom was beautiful and bright thanks to three large windows, and the bath was perfect to help us relax and wash off the grime from the day. Dinner, served in the hotel was delicious and good value and we both agreed we couldn’t have stayed anywhere better.

 

Morning coffee in Valence

The following morning we left fully refreshed and despite Adrian only having one gear we made good progress and detoured into Valence for morning coffee. From Valence to Tain l’Hermitage, the Via Rhôna is decorated with steep vineyards and is much more picturesque than further south. We crossed the Rhône via the impressive old footbridge back into Tournon and went straight to Tournon Bikes, where the damaged bracket was straightened and Adrian could once again change gear.

 

Tournon sur Rhône

Our little tour of just some of what the Ardeche has to offer for cyclists was over and we were sad to be leaving such a beautiful area of France, even if cycling along the Rhône had lost some of it’s appeal.

This post has been linked to Dreaming of France. See here for more France posts.

The Dolce Via, my cycling heaven

Le Train d'Ardeche

Today I am going back in time; back to the days of steam, letting the train take the strain and do the hard work, on a tourist cycle route anyone, (who can ride a bike) can enjoy. Let me introduce you to the Dolce Via a voie verte (green route) in the Ardeche, that has to be the prettiest and most tranquil cycle path in France.

I was a little nervous about cycling in the Ardeche, as it is a pretty hilly region of France and very different to the flat lands where we live, but I needn’t have worried. There are plenty of challenging road bike routes that climb the cols (mountain passes) and then drop dramatically into the valleys, plus over 200km of mountain bike tracks, but there is also the Dolce Via, where I found my cycling heaven.

The Dolce Via is a new cycle route that uses an old steam railway line, that was abandoned following the removal of the rails in the 1970’s. Thanks to a remarkable bit of recycling that has restored it’s tunnels and viaducts, a new lease of life has been given to this secret route that runs along the River Eyrieux for 75km from Saint-Martin-de-Valamas to La Voulte-sur-Rhône, where it joins the River Rhône.

On the Train de l'Ardeche

We spent the night in Tournon-sur-Rhône at Les Amandiers and cycled the four kilometres to St Jean de Muzols where we waited excitedly on the platform for the Train de l’Ardeche, a tourist steam train, that would do the climbing and take us up the Doux River gorge to Lamastre. I'm a secret steam train fan and my levels of excitement were off the scale with the prospect of an hour and forty minutes, in an open carriage, surrounded by stunning scenery and the smell of steam.

For the first half of the journey, you steam up the craggy gorge, looking down on the River Doux tumbling over the rocks as it makes it’s way to the Rhône and it is breathtakingly beautiful. Our neighbour Pierrette gave us the top tip to sit on the right hand side, as you get a better view, and she was right. After a short water refill stop, the scenery becomes more meadows and forests and having had a few early morning starts we both felt rather sleepy with the gentle motion of the train. However the weather had other ideas, as the closer we got to Lamastre, the heavier the clouds looked and eventually the rain arrived. This was not much fun in an open sided railway carriage.

By the time we waited for our bikes to be unloaded from the goods van and left the station, it was pouring with rain and our plan of a lunch in a bar was out of the question as there was nowhere dry to park the bikes. Thankfully Lamastre has a good boulangerie that sold warm, savoury snacks as well as bread and patisseries. We found a sheltered alleyway and bought two hot cheesy baguettes to tuck into while waiting patiently for the rain to ease, which it did after about half an hour.

Our detour to St Julien Labrousse

Soon after setting off again the sky cleared and luckily the sun returned for the rest of the day. The Dolce Via will soon be open from Lamastre, but we had to take the roads so decided a detour to St Julien Labrousse was a good idea. This small mountain village, where we spent a week on holiday in 1998, didn’t seem to have changed at all and the only sign of life was the sound of Boney M being played loudly from an upstairs window. 

A tunnel on the Dolce Via

The route Adrian had planned involved a steep descent from Saint Julien Labrousse into Le Cheylard, on a ski slope rather than a road. It even had a sign saying do not use in snowy conditions – I’m guessing this is because skiers would be using it. I am no skier, so we retraced our steps to Nonnières where we found our first glimpse of the Dolce Via after a steep downhill path took us from the village to the old railway line below. This brand new section with long tunnels, gravelled pathways, wild flowers on each side and pretty much no pedalling for the 8km into Le Cheylard was perfect and so easy.

We stayed the night at the Hotel des Voyageurs, an accueil vélo hotel, who provided secure storage for the bikes, a cold plated meal (as we were in town on a Sunday when all the restaurants are closed) and a filling breakfast that included homemade cakes using the local chestnut puree.

River Eyrieux, Dolce Via

Almost immediately after leaving Le Cheylard and picking up the Dolce Via again, we found ourselves stopping to look at and photograph the scenery; the River Eyrieux, the steep sided gorge, the ironwork and the forests, it was all so beautiful and the blue sky and sunshine were the icing on the cake. To begin with we were treated to a tarmac path and as it is a gently descending route all the way to the Rhône (48km away), we could have cruised along at quite a pace, however we were as slow as snails. It was just too beautiful to rush and we wanted to it to last as long as possible.

Cycling the Dolce Via

Sometimes we meandered around the gentle curves of the river, other times we disappeared into rock cuttings that silenced the river and were home to collections of ferns. The sunnier, open stretches gave us wildflowers, cherry trees and the odd remote houses and gardens to look at. It was almost effortless and would have been if we weren't on road bikes, (it does state in the brochure that some of the surfaces are not suitable for road bikes). However, while we did have to be careful in places and it wasn’t always the most comfortable ride, we didn’t have any problems. The surface changes regularly from gravel to tarmac, as there are some sections shared with cars (limited to 30km/h) where access to houses is necessary, so we weren’t always on rough tracks.

River Eyrieux gorge

We have always been attracted to gorges on holidays in France, picking them out to include in our itineraries for our road trips in Gizmo our Mini Cooper. The steam train ride up the Doux gorges, with no traffic to get in the way, seemed to me the perfect way to see a gorge, until I found the Dolce Via. We had no traffic, no train passengers, in fact no interruptions at all. Every corner showed a new vista, that needed yet another photo. We cycled over restored viaducts, through dark, damp tunnels and at times felt we were the only two people on earth. We could see nothing but trees and the river, hear nothing but the birds and the river and we had no phone service, it was bliss.

When we reached the end I didn't want to leave and was tempted to turn around and go back up, which would have meant an uphill climb, but been totally worth the effort. However we had an itinerary to follow and that meant swapping the tranquil beauty of the River Eyrieux with the industrial flatlands of the Rhône and cycling part of the Via Rhôna. Our dream day on the bikes was about to turn into a nightmare. If we'd have known what was to come we would have turned around.

This post continues here and has been linked to All About France at Lou messugo. Click here to read more about France.