Flat tires and Gallo-Roman Ruins

If your read my last blog post about my trials concerning the hills of Burgundy, you will get a kick out of this new post. I started out on another adventure on my third consecutive day off – this would be my last “adventure” in Burgundy. My plan was to go from Beaune to Autun (about 40 miles) then bike to the Morvan, which is this grand forest in the center of the region. Although I made it to Autun, I only touched the Morvan – enough to say that I have visited it and so could take a picture next to the sign…I know, that is kind of cheating, but okay enough for me. Well, as I started out from Beaune, I was experiencing the same hardships with my bike, and all I could think was how am I going to make it to Autun like this…the hills were not even that harrowing like those in the Maconnais. At several points, I had to dismount and start to walk because the difference in speed was so negligible that I would rather save my bottom. Stopping completely at one point, I realized that if I continued like that, the bike ride would take me the entire day, and I would not have any time to even see Autun. I am not sure how I eventually thought of this, but instantly, it came to mind that maybe something was wrong with my tires. I bent over to feel my tires and sure enough, they were almost completely flat! I had ridden nearly 15 miles on a flat-tired bike, and they had likely been quite flat the other day when I had ridden nearly 50 miles. Good thing I am stubborn and tough because I am surely not observant (not that I have ever pretended to be).

Finding myself in the middle of nowhere, I knew I would have to wait until I reached a town with a gas station, which in the Burgundian countryside is not a common site. Thankfully, after three months here, I am an expert at asking for help from the French – a nice smile and enough words to say “Do you know where….Do you have…etc.” I was riding through a beautiful area where there were cliffs on one side and on the other were radiant trees, and at one point I saw two older men talking outside of a house. I passed them, then thought quite quickly and decided it would be prudent and worth a try to ask them if either possessed a tire inflator (thankfully, I learned that word by chance the other day). When I said excuse me for bothering you, one of the men said not at all and the other fellow in fact did have an inflator and offered to get it for me. Unbelievable; the countryside may be boring for the most part, but its inhabitants are so kind here and so willing to help someone out.

I chatted with the man who had fishing boots on (despite the fact there was no river anywhere close) who was so nice and even gave me some tips on the route I was about to take to Autun. He inflated my tires and with a “Have a nice ride (Bonne route!)” I was off. What a difference the inflated tires made to my ride; I was going much faster but expending the same amount of energy and certainly not getting discouraged like I had been beforehand. It was actually a fabulous ride on a pleasant enough road and lovely scenery.

Arriving in the city, I went directly in search of a bakery…okay, I was kind of hungry after all of those miles. I bought a chocolate flan and a baguette to devour once I found a place to lock up the bike. I consulted the Office of Tourism for a plan of the city, which thankfully was an excellent idea because Autun is in fact a very spread-out city, meaning its famous and worthwhile sites are not only concentrated in the center, where the majority of European cities guard their history. After enjoying my food and thanking the Lord for a little respite for my bottom, I took the city plan and went on a historical scavenger hunt. I think I may have described my visits to European towns like that before, but sometimes I honestly feel like I am out to find on the bits of remnant history, which I can check off on my list. Like usual, I took the route no other tourist would take; at least that is what I surmised when I did not see a single person on my way to the Gallo-Roman amphitheatre. I did not mind, and in fact, I kind of like the fact that I am not predisposed to taking the normal routes that everyone else takes. Hopefully, when I start to travel with other people in the next few months, they will either appreciate this about me, be able to tolerate it, or want to take the lead themselves. We shall see.

Autun possesses some very interesting ruins dating back to BC times during the Roman Empire. I saw an amphitheatre, two large ports that at one time marked the edge of the city, and the ruins of an ancient temple. The most peculiar was that temple because no one knows which deity was at one time worshipped there, so someone arbitrarily gave it a name during the Middle Ages, now called the Temple of Janus. All that remains is one corner and the walls and windows that are a part of that corner structure.

I took my bike out one more time to see if I could make it to the Morvan, and one site in particular, called Mont Beuvray. I made it to the edge of the forest, but unfortunately, I did not have the time to make it to the small mountain nor did I have time to really commune with the forest. It was a little disappointing, but oh, well. There was nothing I could do about it. There is a problem with not having a car and not being in shape enough to ride 100 miles per day; I had to rely on trains and buses to get me back home, which does not allow for much flexibility. It was such a lovely trip though and something I will remember for quite a long time. Without a doubt, this summer has truly been a unique experience, surprising and difficult or tiresome at times, but every sense of the word, it was an adventure. Right now in my life, worshipping Christ, serving others and breathing adventures are the banners I hold over my head. We shall see what they foretell for the next step --- Angers.