I don’t start today’s ride in the best frame of mind. After loaning other riders my sunblock , I run back to the hotel to grab my phone. When I return the entire crew has left without me. That’s the thing about being the lone single person on a tour like this: no one has my back. On reflection, it makes sense that when all the couples on this trip made their reservations many months ago, they did not have me in mind...
Nonetheless, I take off alone feeling sorry for myself (this is a stretch, even I have to admit it) navigating as best I can. In hindsight, I have to smile. For today’s the day we ride to Chateau Chenonceau. Had I known it, I am about to visit the most lovely and welcoming chateau in the Loire Valley.
Nonetheless, I take off alone feeling sorry for myself (this is a stretch, even I have to admit it) navigating as best I can. In hindsight, I have to smile. For today’s the day we ride to Chateau Chenonceau. Had I known it, I am about to visit the most lovely and welcoming chateau in the Loire Valley.
Here is today's plan:
Having learned from yesterday’s difficult ride, I’ve packed plenty of trail mix, applesauce (in tubes) a banana – and of course water. I make it to the grounds of Chenonceau (18 miles approx), navigating carefully, taking photos as I go.
And join the group as our guides are preparing a lovely picnic for us.
As it turns out, I could have taken another hour to get there - our guides have forgotten to bring plates and flatware! Behind the scenes they scramble to get it together for us while we luxuriate on the grass.
With the most heavenly white wines (we are not suffering). Ultimately we have both plates and stainless cutlery - nice to have on a picnic (no idea where they found them).
And now a word about our guides. There are three of them: Florence (French), Erica and Lucille - yes, Lucille! - American. All young, energetic, positive, multi-lingual and ultra-capable (where do they find these people??). Mornings, while we are at breakfast, they are out back checking the tires and general road worthiness of our bikes. They prepare picnics for our lunches. On the rides, Erica and Lucille join us on their bikes to make sure everyone is doing OK (they are dervishes) and do a basic head count. Florence sweeps by with the van a couple of times per ride.
Which doesn’t mean that if you get lost you will be immediately found (biggest fear for me). It doesn’t occur to me until nearly the last day to get their phone numbers and verify that my phone can reach them. I am told they will not always get the call right away, but they will get the message and if you leave good instructions, they’ll come and find you.
But now onto Chenonceau.
For this trip, we have a marvelous Lecturer; a woman in love with history and an expansive speaker. Chenonceau, she tells us, has always been in private hands - in womens' hands - and you can feel it; it is warm and elegant, but also very congenial. As we approach, we see little “baudets” (burros) all of whose photos are posted on a fence with their names. This personal touch tells you so much about Chenonceau.
And now a word about our guides. There are three of them: Florence (French), Erica and Lucille - yes, Lucille! - American. All young, energetic, positive, multi-lingual and ultra-capable (where do they find these people??). Mornings, while we are at breakfast, they are out back checking the tires and general road worthiness of our bikes. They prepare picnics for our lunches. On the rides, Erica and Lucille join us on their bikes to make sure everyone is doing OK (they are dervishes) and do a basic head count. Florence sweeps by with the van a couple of times per ride.
Which doesn’t mean that if you get lost you will be immediately found (biggest fear for me). It doesn’t occur to me until nearly the last day to get their phone numbers and verify that my phone can reach them. I am told they will not always get the call right away, but they will get the message and if you leave good instructions, they’ll come and find you.
But now onto Chenonceau.
For this trip, we have a marvelous Lecturer; a woman in love with history and an expansive speaker. Chenonceau, she tells us, has always been in private hands - in womens' hands - and you can feel it; it is warm and elegant, but also very congenial. As we approach, we see little “baudets” (burros) all of whose photos are posted on a fence with their names. This personal touch tells you so much about Chenonceau.
Unlike Chambord, Chenonceau is easy to find with an open pathway that leads directly to its doors. And while the chateau is on the water, it is situated for beauty, not defense: there is no moat or portcullis.
There are also no winding staircases, a hallmark of many chateaux. Those were designed so that the residents could pick off any marauders one by one as they ascended. Instead, Chenonceau has straight wide staircases where all can ascend in a civilized manner (a revolutionary concept we are told).
Chenonceau straddles the Cher River, and during WWII, half of that river was in Occupied France, half in the Free Zone. If you could make it to the chateau in the Occupied Zone, the owner would usher you across to freedom.
Chenonceau is beautifully furnished and has some lovely tapestries
Chenonceau straddles the Cher River, and during WWII, half of that river was in Occupied France, half in the Free Zone. If you could make it to the chateau in the Occupied Zone, the owner would usher you across to freedom.
Chenonceau is beautifully furnished and has some lovely tapestries
Which brings our Lecturer to the question of why the French had tapestries, and the Italians had frescoes. The answer is two-fold: tapestries were used for insulation – but they were also portable. While the Italians more or less stayed put (and had a warmer climate), the French kings were always running around inspecting their properties – and they took these tapestries with them so they wouldn't freeze their nuts off. OK, our Lecturer didn't put it exactly that way.
You reach Chenonceau passing a tower which our lecturer likens to one of Donald Trump’s displays of wealth and power; phallic and showy.
You reach Chenonceau passing a tower which our lecturer likens to one of Donald Trump’s displays of wealth and power; phallic and showy.
The coat of arms of the owners is on the front doors – but above that, always the symbols of the king and queen: the salamander, a legendary creature who could walk through fire, and the ermine whose white coat symbolized purity (you may not be able to make them out here)
I am comforted to hear so much history about the place; these chateaux bring hundreds of thousands of tourists to France all year long, so the history of their monarchy – complete with is abuses and wealth – is always in the French consciousness. To me, this signals that the French socialist way of life is not going away anytime soon.
Francois l built Chenonceau beginning in 1514 – slightly before Chambord actually – but from the beginning it had a very different intent. It began as just this building.
Francois l built Chenonceau beginning in 1514 – slightly before Chambord actually – but from the beginning it had a very different intent. It began as just this building.
His son Henry ll inherited the place and promptly ensconced his mistress, Diane de Poitiers, there (this is she).
She immediately took to the place and Influenced by the Italian Renaissance (we believe), she had the idea to extend the chateau over the River Cher – much in the style of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, and if you look at the design, you can see the similarity.
She temporarily took over Cheverny as a place from which to supervise the work (one of only two times Cheverny fell into hands other than the Hurault family), and built over the River. It is a phenomenal design. But it no doubt inspired envy - especially in the Queen who, as it turns out, was no lady.
And speaking of ladies, I'd like to take a moment for the ladies here. By the end of this day, I realize I will have ridden about 50 miles. That said, this much cycling has not been without disadvantages - especially to the lady parts; and it strikes me that the bidets in those hotel rooms will be put to good use by us ladies tonight to put out the fire (jeez). Sexual activity is out of the question and for the first time on this trip, I’m actually glad I’m single – not that the men are doing any better (I wouldn’t know).
I have bought special cycling “pedal pushers” for this trip – I’ve never worn them before – and now that I have them, I look at cyclists (especially the racers) with amusement; they are virtually all wearing a form of Depends, these manly guys. You can see it in the seams in the back. Perhaps it makes a difference for them. Personally, the back is not where the issue is for me.
That day along the route, Erica and I have a long conversation about “The Problem” with cycling for women (I’m relieved to know it’s not just me) and try to devise a solution. We brain storm about a sort of small hemorrhoid ring which could go in the front. Inflatable to fit. With coolant. In colors. I call it “The Lady Ring.”
Hey you don't have to wear it. Years ago in the West Village, there used to be an earring piercing place on 7th Avenue. It was just a little shack, but their motto was, "Your choice, with or without pain," and it struck me - it would be good to have an alternative, don't you think? Diane de Poitiers would have approved. The Queen would have approved. We all would approve!
But once again, back to Chenonceau.
And speaking of ladies, I'd like to take a moment for the ladies here. By the end of this day, I realize I will have ridden about 50 miles. That said, this much cycling has not been without disadvantages - especially to the lady parts; and it strikes me that the bidets in those hotel rooms will be put to good use by us ladies tonight to put out the fire (jeez). Sexual activity is out of the question and for the first time on this trip, I’m actually glad I’m single – not that the men are doing any better (I wouldn’t know).
I have bought special cycling “pedal pushers” for this trip – I’ve never worn them before – and now that I have them, I look at cyclists (especially the racers) with amusement; they are virtually all wearing a form of Depends, these manly guys. You can see it in the seams in the back. Perhaps it makes a difference for them. Personally, the back is not where the issue is for me.
That day along the route, Erica and I have a long conversation about “The Problem” with cycling for women (I’m relieved to know it’s not just me) and try to devise a solution. We brain storm about a sort of small hemorrhoid ring which could go in the front. Inflatable to fit. With coolant. In colors. I call it “The Lady Ring.”
Hey you don't have to wear it. Years ago in the West Village, there used to be an earring piercing place on 7th Avenue. It was just a little shack, but their motto was, "Your choice, with or without pain," and it struck me - it would be good to have an alternative, don't you think? Diane de Poitiers would have approved. The Queen would have approved. We all would approve!
But once again, back to Chenonceau.
As soon as Henri ll died (suddenly, in a jousting tournament and wearing Diane’s colors, not his wife's) the Queen, Catherine de Medici, summarily kicked Diane out of Chenonceau. Catherine too, was in love with the place, and while there she expanded the gallery over the water. You have to hand it to her. It is a glorious, celebratory space.
To this day, Chenonceau has gardens devoted to each of them:
After our inspiring history lesson, it’s back on the bikes where we continue to ride through the gorgeous French country side and past the Line of Demarcation.
This signifies the line between Occupied and Free France during WWII. There is much talk from our guides of farmers whose houses were on one side, but whose lands were on the other; about how they used that as an opportunity to smuggle contraband in and out, and about the French Resistance in general. From what I know, the Resistance consisted of a handful of citizens among the entire French population, but they are certainly well remembered.
We ride on to the Chateau D’Artigny where we will stay the next two nights. It is truly magnificent.
We ride on to the Chateau D’Artigny where we will stay the next two nights. It is truly magnificent.
And this is my room. That's fabric on the walls, by the way.
Like many of the chateaux we stay at, Wi-Fi is intermittent at best. The walls of these places are so thick, that no amount of routers and boosters will make for a truly connected experience. I find this somewhat frustrating but I didn't come for the WiFi - and I am also impressed. They just don’t build ‘em like this anymore.
We dine out at a local and lovely restaurant situated on another Loire tributary.
We dine out at a local and lovely restaurant situated on another Loire tributary.
Some of us pile into the van; those who don't fit, get into a taxi. I am one of those. I sit with the taxi driver who talks to me about Chenonceau. It’s not his favorite chateau, he opines, because he finds the gardens lacking.
As he is talking I can only wonder to myself if I ever heard a NY taxi driver with a preference about gardens of any kind (unless it was Kew)?
He also tells me that the reason there are so many chateaux in the Loire valley, is that that's where the limestone is (I have to go back to my room to look up the word, but afterwards I figure out what he was saying). Brittany, for example, has only granite – way too hard and heavy for buildings like this.
Dinner is a wonderful and nuanced affair (formal dinners, the one place my celiac status is regarded and I can relax). Over dinner the rest of the group is intrigued that I’m in such good shape - there are two different times when I could have wimped out and taken the van. They know I come from New York City and ask how I trained. I pull out my phone and show them the "wallet photo" of Lucille. Then I talk about the NYC’s bridges, Fiend’s Hill, Riverdale - and Lucille's big bones; and I realize how great she has been great for my training - my Back Roads bike weighs way less. They are impressed.
As he is talking I can only wonder to myself if I ever heard a NY taxi driver with a preference about gardens of any kind (unless it was Kew)?
He also tells me that the reason there are so many chateaux in the Loire valley, is that that's where the limestone is (I have to go back to my room to look up the word, but afterwards I figure out what he was saying). Brittany, for example, has only granite – way too hard and heavy for buildings like this.
Dinner is a wonderful and nuanced affair (formal dinners, the one place my celiac status is regarded and I can relax). Over dinner the rest of the group is intrigued that I’m in such good shape - there are two different times when I could have wimped out and taken the van. They know I come from New York City and ask how I trained. I pull out my phone and show them the "wallet photo" of Lucille. Then I talk about the NYC’s bridges, Fiend’s Hill, Riverdale - and Lucille's big bones; and I realize how great she has been great for my training - my Back Roads bike weighs way less. They are impressed.
And I realize: I may not have a great riding partner here, but I have a great one at home.
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