I wasn't in a hurry to get up and out. It was cold and cloudy and my ride for the day was to Sarlat, about 30 miles away. Instead, I ate breakfast, checked out the maps one more time, read a bit and finally packed up.
I had seen an odd house across the valley and wanted to get a picture of it. I walked to the wall on the other side of the road in front of my hotel and took one. This photo also gives you a view of the trees and terrain around Limeuil.
I decided to coast down the hill and see what was in "main" part of town. This was where the bridge over the river entered the town. There was a small car park, a TI that wasn't yet open, a place to buy bread baked elsewhere and that was it. I couldn't help but wonder where people who lived here bought food or anything else they might need.
Their are two roads that go along the Dordogne. The one on the south side is a major road. The road on the north looks small on the map but still carried a bit of traffic. I wasn't right on the river and the views across the land to the river was not exceptional and I took no pictures. The rain didn't help as it started to when I was about 5 miles into the day's ride.
The first town of any size I entered was St. Cyprien, about 12 miles from Limeuil. It was an attractive town that looked like a good place for lunch and provisions. I stopped in at the Tourist Information office and, for the only time during my ride, had a bad experience. I arrived close to noon and the woman behind the desk spoke only passable English. She was impatient with my questions and, I later found out, provided bad information. Since the rain was still falling, I thought about spending the night here and riding to Sarlat in the morning. But, I was so bummed out by the TI woman that I decided to push on after lunch.
I are a pizza at one of the Italian restaurants on the main street. It wasn't particularly good but it was food. I asked around and found a supermarket down the way and bought some vegetables, chocolate, and bananas. When I went outside, the rain had momentarily stopped and I got a few pictures of St. Cyprien. Much of the town was up a hill. Here is a church that dominated the hillscape.
This view is just to the right of the previous one.
There were two choices of routes from St. Cyprien to Sarlat. The shorter one, 10 miles, went over the hills (see the above pictures). The longer, 15 miles, was on the main road along the river. I tried to determine which one was flatter but the woman at the TI was no help, though she did say that both routes were hilly. I chose the shorter, more direct route. She was right. It was hilly. It was also lightly used. This picture, taken just outside St. Cyprien, give you some idea of the hills and a quaint house next to the road.
It rained off and on as I slogged up through the hills between St. Cyprien and Sarlat. This road must have been recently used for a road race of some sort as there were encouraging words painted on the road. You can see the last bit on one in this picture taken during a short rest.
The route went up for most of the 10 miles to Sarlat and was more effort than I had envisioned for this day. After a long uphill, the road was flat for a couple of miles and I noticed that my left pedal was making an odd noise. On closer inspection, I could see that there was something wrong with the bearing on the pedal's foot post. On every revolution there was a "clunk" when I pushed down. I have had a pedal break on my before and I wasn't keen on losing this one up in the hills above Sarlat. Luckily, the last two miles or so descended down into town. At the bottom, I was dumped on a narrow, busy street that I rode on for about another mile.
Sarlat is the first (and only) town on this trip that I had visited before. On my first trip to Europe, as a 26 year-old backpacker, I had spent two night in Sarlat. I had fond memories of it and its large street market. I knew that the market was on Saturday, which is why I had planned to stop there on Friday night and spend the next day resting and enjoying the shopping stalls.
Sarlat has a very attractive pedestrian section that is surrounded by a larger, less appealing town. I was able to find the huge TI office, which is in the older part of town and found a very nice hotel for 60 Euros a night. As usual, I hung around the TI as I thought of more questions to ask. I discovered that there was a bike path both in and out of Sarlat (the other TI agent hadn't mentioned one). I also asked if there were any vegetarian restaurants in town and the 40-something, hip-looking woman I was talking with asked "Why would you want to limit yourself like that?" I responded by asking if there weren't somethings in life that she could imagine but wouldn't want to experience. She got this faraway look in her eye and said "There was a time when there were no limits, but no more." I have to admit that I wondered what images were flashing in her mind!
This was the second time in France that vegetarianism had invoked the "Why limit yourself" response. I have tried to explain this to people for over 30 years now and don't feel I need to justify my lifestyle. Nonetheless, the look in the TI woman's eye made the intereaction memorable.
My hotel was up one of the narrow, cobblestone streets that rise steeply off the main pedestrian lane. This building was at the top of the rise, just down from my hotel.
Here is the narrow street, next to this building that I went up to find my hotel
My room was on an inner courtyard and very nice. The furniture and fixtures were quite modern and area was quiet. I showered, changed my bandage, and went wondering around the Sarlat's old town. I checked out the restaurants and decided to eat in, instead. I bought some bread, pre-made soup, cheese, and vegetables for a salad. I came back, made dinner and watched a match from the Euro 2008 tournament.
It was still very hard to get into a comfortable position in bed. In fact, I discovered that I never get into bed in a position I want to be in. I always have to move around a bit. Trying to move while lying down was very painful and it was in Sarlat that I started trying to get into bed directly into a comfortable sleeping position.