A RIDE THROUGH FRANCE

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 170, 19 July 1924, Page 11

A RIDE THROUGH FRANCE

NEW ZEALANDER ON A " PUSH BIKE." | THE VALLEY OF THE RHONE. (By T. CLARK.SON.) (NO. 2.) Having exhausted the time that was available fnr the Provencal towns I decided to head straight for Paris, and made an early start from Orange on April 11 Ui, intending to take a- good slice off the long North Koad. I had now apparently left the country of the vines and olives, and entering the valley of the Rhone, was at once amongst most fertile lands devoted to pastures and crops, including a fair proportion of lucerne already well advanced. The : roads were magnificent at this point, and the ride quite interesting. I came to a little village which was celebrating its weekly market day. Situated in tho ■ village square was an old fashioned stone structure that seemed to be about 600 years old, and here were to be found cheap crockery, crates of eggs, crates of rabbits, crates of young goats, poultry, vegetables nnd fruit, and bacon, an , itinerant scissors grinder, and many : etceteras. And over this medley of goods the villagers and peasants for a mile or two around had gathered to ' bargain and to gossip, precisely as their ancestors had done for centuries past. j At Montpelicr I had my lirst puncture, and as it occurred just entering that town I was able to have it attended to in a cycle shop. Cycle shops abound in every village, and the boy mechanics are very smart. The lad here changed my tube, mended the old one, fitted a ■ new rubber to my brake, ad- ! justed the brake, and had mc on the I road in halt an hour. Madame, who was in charge of the establishment, was a bright chatty lady, who entertained mc well while the lad was doing the work, and as the job only cost about 9d in English money, I could not complain of having been exploited. Bicycles arc the most popular means of locomotion in France, girls, boys, men, women of all grades using these handy machines. Although the country beyond Montclier was undulating, there were no very steep hills. Indeed, since setting out from Marseilles I had never struck a really bad bill, and scarce an awkward turn. Motor cars, almost invariably of tho touring variety, simply tore aiong, their speed being limited only by the power of their engines. If I saw a car driving less than 30 miles per hour I don't remember it, and many must have been registering from 60 to 70 miles. Among the Vines. At charming Valence, where the countryside is very beautiful, I pulled up at the Hotel d'Angleterre as it suggested some acquaintance with our country. But no! '"Parlez vous Anglais?" Not a bit! "Un cbambro, s'il vous plait" ("A room, please) was met with a "Oui, oui, Monsieur," and I was shown to a simple room free from such luxuries as hot water, but clean and wholesome looking. Smothered in dust, I approached the landlady for a couple of brushes, one for my clothes, one for my boots, when to my amazement a buxom little maid dropped to her knees in front of mc and commenced brushing my boots for dear life. She would not bo stopped so I had to let her have her way. Next morning (Saturday, April 12th) I set off for St. Etienne over roads worn and bumpy in places, but on the whole quite good. After travelling a few miles the valley of tho Rhone narrowed, this magnificent waterway being closed in by fairly steep hills on cither side. I had thought the vine country had been left behind at Avignon, but this was by no means the case. The hills were covered with vine-growing allotments, and running up the spurs to the very tops, as high up as some solitary sheep occasionally reaches on the highest peaks of our New Zealand grazing hills, were the little squares of cultivated plots. And this was the landscape on both sides of the Rhone for miles and miles. What a tremendous population must be employed in caring for these millions of vines, what unceasing energy must be devoted to the work on these steep heights. Running out to a wider valley, some flat country appeared, and this was covered in orchard mostly blossoming. Cherry trees much larger in size than our New Zealand trees, handsome in appearance and with the most delicate white blossoms, were preponderant, but there were also to be seen tho pink blossoms of the peach, the apple, the almond and other trees. And here and there for variation were some ploughed up patches, the brownish-yellow colour of the soil looking golden as it caught the rays of the sun. What a country! Surely this must be the garden of France. The first time I saw the country lanes and small farms of England I thought no other cultivated scenery could look so good, but this portion of France is quite as picturesque and more glorious in its colouring. The town of Vienne was reached late in the afternoon, after which I passed through some magnificent pastures. And at this stage I discovered that somehow or other I had failed to turn at the right time for St. Etienne,>so decided instead to make for Lyon. Wash-tub Gossips. In a small village beyond Vienne I dismounted for a close-up view of a typical French washing-day. At the side of the main street of the village was a large rectangular stone tank full of running water, and here were half-a-dozen women scrubbing away vigorously and gossiping as only women can. With the French peasants or villagers the private wash tub is apparently unknown, and with then, washing day, instead of being a day of monotonous drudgery, seems to have some of the elements of a festival. Almost always they do the washing at stone pools, and if there is a sound reputation left in the village between one wash day and the next I'm a poor guesser. Running water seems to be a fetish with them. Lyon, of course, is a large and important city, the chief centre for the trade of Southern France, and under favourable circumstances would warrant a sight-seeing visit of several days. But the morning I woke up there was Sunday, and raining, so I moved out before mid-day, and was lucky enough to pass out of the wet zone. The Rhone passes right through Lyon and is spanned by a number of magnificent bridges. On my route to Paris via Moulins and Nevers I had to leave this important and attractive waterway, which had been in view for several days. After many miles of bumping over cobble stones with which Lyon, like all the French towns, paves its streets, I struck good roads, and about five mile out. soipe fine private houses, presumably the homes of Lyon mer-

chants. The rest of the day was spent climbing and descending hills, no flat country all day. Vines, olives and orchards were absent from the new landscape and instead pastures and a great ■ quantity of cereal crops, giving the lulls a most attractive appearance. As in I the case of the grape vines, the fields 'of cereals crept from the valleys to the tops of hills and on seemingly impossible grades for harvesting. Dairy cattle in limited numbers also became a feature of the country passed through. As mentioned, this was a Sunday ride, . but most shops were open for business in the morning. Rural Courtships. ' In the afternoon the young men and maidens of tho small villages went out walking, and it was somewhat amusing to sec Jacques stealing a kiss from the half reluctant Jacqueline, which all the village might see. Arms round each other's waist was a common sign of affection. These French lovers are not . afflicted with bashfulncss. A curious feature of French eating customs in comparison with English i 3 in the important matter of light re- | freshments. At the smallest of vil-, lages there arc several cafes with tables where wine is supplied at. the English | equivalent of less than lid per glass. ': Also one can readily obtain coffee, but | not always with milk. Usually it is possible to got ehocolate-au-lait, that is . cocoa made with milk. It is served in a huge cup ancl as the French make it I it is a most satisfying beverage. A roll j of bread is always available, and butter j sometimes. But cakes or scones: that is another question. The French pastry ! cook sells no beverages, and if I took a fancy to the contents of an appetising counter of cakes, having made a purchase, it was necessary to journey with my parcel to a cafe where I could order . coffee or cocoa necessary to complete j the light meal. ! Towards the close of the day when I j j was thinking of bed and supper, I was unexpectedly faced with the longest hill of the tour. It must have been nearly , five miles long, ancl though not so steep as to prevent my riding portions there- j of, it was a trying climax to a day's journey. And to make matters worse, i after reaching the top, I was unable to I find an hotel where accommodation was | available before travelling yet another j six miles. However, good fortune then landed mc at an excellent inn in a ; very small village, and the evening meal was none the less enjoyable for having 'been deferred. I Oxen in the Plough. j A bright and early start was made next, morning (Monday) under quite exceptional conditions. A glorious wind behind, perfectly surfaced road and downhill for the first dozen miles,- so | I ran off the first 10 kilos into Koannc in double quick time. At this town the traveller crosses the Loire and then traverses an expanse of almost flat country. Vines and orchards had long since been left behind, the landscape being one of verdant pastures and growing cereals with freshly tilled fields being prepared for the season's crops. Most thorough was the tillage, and manuring seemed to be almost universal. The ploughing, harrowing, etc., is practically all .done with big I white oxen, aud most of the carting I too. All day long I passed through closely settled lands, and as the roads were again first-class, though not so good as in the extreme south, I was able to make my record run to date— I 114 kilos—which brought mc to Moulins. I At Moulins, though only a comparatively small town of about 25.000 inhabitants, I chanced to meet at intervals the same evening, no less than four Frenchmen who could talk English; a welcome change from previous experiences. (To be Continued.)