To the Roman engineer in charge of these things: I must insist you return and fix your bridge. It has fallen into disrepair and is ill suited for bicycles. Further, the track approaching it is muddy and my shoes are quite slippery. Aside from the “pont romaine”, the route was well considered. Concerns of traffic along the D4, through the Gorge Hérault, were unfounded. The gorge, and the medieval village of St Guilhem le Désert, were empty. I encountered perhaps a dozen cars in my first forty kilometers. Concerns of the weather, from my advisors, were also unfounded. A cyclist warned of the wicked winds of Hérault, and the baker said it looked like rain. Weather forecasts are the randonneur’s paradox. We want to see them, such that we prepare appropriately. But looking risks not liking what we see, and dissuading us from starting altogether. Not an option today anyhow. I allotted two hours to “café time”, a category that encompasses cafes, photography, and sitting on stone walls contemplating other stone walls. I had one hundred and twenty five kilometers to cover and, depending on one’s perspective, squandered or deeply appreciated half of it within the first twenty kilometers. The Col de La Cardonille was reached along the only busy road of the day Lunch, the plat du jour requested sight unseen, was a rich, sweet crock of stewed beef, mushrooms, confit onions, and fried lardons. At my request the proprietor noted down the name as “Carbonade Flamande”
