From the Atlantic Ocean to the Med. - Day 3

Day 3: Marciac to Lombez

After the luxury of Eric and Marilyn's house (having separate en-suite rooms and everything), it was difficult to leave on the Sunday morning. We even had our filthy cycling clobber washed and dried by Marilyn, so were lovely and clean, well rested and eager to get off. Barry, however was just content to take a leisurely breakfast in his 'lounging trousers'. Shaun and I have obviously led sheltered lives, as neither of us had seen, let alone worn such things and they became a special object of ridicule for the whole trip (deservedly). We were amazed at what Barry had brought them with him as, in his words, he was going to 'take the absolute essentials'. In Lord Barry Young's (as he was to be known) world, this meant everything, almost including the kitchen sink. It was all we could do to get him to leave behind his cut-crystal decanter and matching 16 wine glasses. He wondered why his panniers were so heavy as he struggled up the hills!

The view from Eric's house, almost near but not very near to Marciac

Once Barry's valet had loaded up his steed, we set off across the ridge (not a hill don't forget) down onto the D3 to a very small but beautiful village called Tillac.In the middle of this village is just one street that is a slice of medieval life in the shape of a tower with an arched entrance into a proper cobble-stoned medieval street. It was a great surprise, unexpected as it was, just in the middle of nowhere.

Tillac entrance

Lord Barry Young spoiling the view of the 'High Street' in Tillac

 In the shop opposite we bought some ham and cheese and some baguettes for a possible picnic lunch. We also tried in vain to buy some oil for our chains as they were getting noisy. Lord Young only had extra virgin olive on him.

We turned left onto the D16 on towards St Maur, then on to the N21 North to Mirande. We then took the D104 towards Loubersan, then stopped at Seissan to have lunch. Amazingly for a Sunday there was a bar serving food that was actually open. No ham and floppy, sweaty cheese for us then! It was baking hot by this time too, so we gladly drank beer and sat down to a four course lunch of soup followed by salad, then pork and potatoes and an individual flan for dessert. We couldn't actually manage the flans, so we took them away with us.

Handy reminders of which road you are on

 We promised ourselves a little nap by a babbling brook, but even though Shaun had promised us a shady place to rest our weary, sweaty bottoms, all we saw were more and more hills, which didn't please Barry as his gold-topped cane kept sliding out from it's Union-Jack flag holder, threatening to topple the statue of Queen Victoria from the rack on his bike.

I don't know why we couldn't have turned left here...

 At Saramon, we took the very picturesque (but also very hilly) D626 and arrived around 6pm at Lombez, our destination. We were suitably tired, sore and dirty after our hot day, so after finding our hotel just a few metres into the village you can imagine how relieved to find that (a) it had room for us (but for only one night - that's all we needed) and (b) it had a swimming pool! Lord Young is an habitual pool user, but for Shaun and I it was a gift from heaven! Naturally we dived straight in (it was like ice!) and had the young French wench bring us ale (Barry's words, not mine). God, it was great!

The 'Val de Save' hotel, Lombez

The downside was, as it was a Sunday, their restaurant was closed but there was a pizza place open just up the road. After stuffing our faces with three of their finest 'Lombezgois' pizzas, we repaired to a bar to relax, only for Shaun to almost get into a fight with a local when talking about the talents (or lack of) of the Toulouse Rugby team. We made a hasty exit and went straight to bed after we'd jettisoned the sweaty ham and cheese and by now, rock hard baguettes.

Distance: 72 kms