Category: Travel

In no particular order, a wrap up of France. Mostly pictures.
Each day we would get an itinerary of the day, including a written summary of the history of the locations written by the Backroads staff. Good info. Below are copies of the overall route and the itinerary sheets.

If I had to pick a favorite day, it may have been Day 6. It was grey and drizzly, and also quiet along the miles we rode. Allowed me time to think and appreciate. That said, every day was a treat, some bit of magic and wonder. We were lucky to take the trip and savor the memory.

If all goes well, today really is our last day in France. Its a Saturday morning, different energy outside the hotel. And its grey and drizzly, kind of perfect. What seemed sketchy last night seems just fine this morning. I went for a good brisk walk and was able to quickly find Sacre Coeur. Very stunning, and lots of steps up!

Good cafe Americano for both of us and on our way to Charles de Gaulle.

No drama, yeah, we picked the right metro and we’re here, checked in, and hopeful for an on-time departure.

The cycling was hard no doubt, but the “concierge” travel was divine. Nice to have someone schlep your bags, check you in to great hotels and navigate dinner reservations. Normandy and Brittany coasts were divine, and on the shoulder season even better with less tourists.

Promise a wrap up summary but for now, time to shut down the laptop.

Hope to see you along the way.

We left the comforts of our Backroads shuttle at the Rennes train station and said our goodbyes to our fellow cyclists. Our next destination Paris for the night. We were early so we settled in at the station.

And the settling in went sideways quickly, I had booked the tickets for the wrong day.

With the train sign blinking “Complete”, meaning Full, Sold Out, and 12 minutes to departure, I sprinted back to the ticket station, summoned all of my Sacred Heart French, and all of my sales and marketing acumen to get us on the train. Not sure what convinced the agent, but we got a seat in the caboose (really) with train crew who were riding to work in Paris.

Sigh of relief was momentary, we arrived in Paris at the wrong station. Not exactly the wrong station, but I had not set Joe’s expectations that we would have to do a little juking and jivving to get to our hotel. And for some reason, he agreed to the subway and not a cab. Did I mention we arrived at Friday night rush hour? And that he is correctly hyper sensitive to pick pockets (they even announce it over the loud speakers). Away we go to find our metro, bobbling and weaving through the bowels of Montparnasse Station. Joe jumps on and I am nearly shut out, but he pries the doors apart to the wonder of the commuters. We are sardines for a good 25 minutes, until finally we get to our stop and hotel close by.

Phew, that was crazy, and at this point Joe can barely look at me. I am ground zero for every travel snafu on the day. But we get to the hotel, (yes of course its in a dodgy neighborhood, would you expect anything less of this story?) We check in quickly, the woman at the front desk can clearly read all is not well. To the small elevator we go, so small it will only fit one of us. I send Joe on his way upstairs so he can catch his breath away from the travel tornado known as his wife.

All good? Nope, not when Joe comes back down and looks through the elevator gates and says, “I’m stuck in the elevator”. I had to look away at this point, it was just too comical and I was so frazzled. “Oh how odd, this has never happened before”, nice calm unfazed French lady says. Joe at this point is grabbing the gates and shaking them and pushing all the buttons. The solution is to send him down to the basement to get off the elevator… and walk all the bags back up to reception… and then up the spiral (not kidding, no exaggeration) staircase to the 3rd floor.

Some apartment dweller in France is telling the story of the Friday night when he could hear yelling from the 3d floor of the Avalon Cosy Hotel, “never again Chris, never again”.

We gathered ourselves and went for a walk, and alas had a great dinner sitting at the bar of Brasserie Bellanger, kind of a farm to table place where we watched all the meals get prepped. It was perfect.

And yes we heard traffic noise and gendarme sirens all night from my quaint hotel pick.

Hope to see you along the way.

Way behind in my updates, very little down time this trip. From here, Dinard, we train to Paris, spend the night and head home tomorrow. Maybe some catch up time?

Today’s ride was shorter, only 12M, to allow shower shave aqua velva time before we catch the train. Option to ride or relax. We opted to ride. The timeline and the grey drizzly weather thinned the ranks this morning. Quietly to myself I said those that stayed behind missed a good ride. It was the perfect compilation of city, coastal, farm, and very quiet, little traffic. We just kind of took our time and soaked it in.

Gotta jump, find a way to stuff all these dirty clothes back in a bag. Next update from Paris.

So I know I owe you Omaha Beach (yesterday) and Mont St Michel (today), and cycle details from Dinand (crazy delish quiche) to Dinard (port city that is gorgeous!)

But a quick aside. Tonight is our only OYO, On Your Own dinner. We arrived at the Grand Hotel Dinard after only 20M, but them, there 20… brutal. Super long hills and steep! In my head the OYO was the carrot, so we kept pushing even when we were yelling all kinds of obscenities in our head. OYO means not a group, and not on a schedule. And the group is great, but nice to just be the two of us doing our own thing.

Anyway we arrived at yet another lovely hotel and found ourselves at the bar to celebrate our miles.

We have always relied friendly banter/chatter/convo with the bartender or someone on the staff… where would you go to dinner tonight. The recommendation from “Monsieur” as Joe called our hotel bartender, was a local brasserie, L’Abri des Flots,(the shelter of the waves? maybe?)
And it did not disappoint. Details to follow but the quick hit story is on the walk over to the restaurant.

Our toothpaste reserves ran dry, into the pharmacia we went. Again a kind of funny convo with the shopkeeper that included pantomime by both Joe and me. She said something akin to travel size, we nodded excitedly, and she went behind the counter and came out with small samples. I slapped down my euros, and she said “cadeau”. I kept pushing my euros, she kept saying cadeau. Oh I said, credit? No cadeau. And then I realized. Cadeau… gift, free. Joe and I were tickled pink and she was too when she realized that we understood.

Cadeau… brilliant… made our day.
More later.

Hope to see you along the way.

Trying to catch up, it very hard to cycle, eat great food, see amazing, things, and blog!! Sacre bleu!

If I was a great blogger, I could post a map. The most I can do is write that we met in Trouville sur Mer, where, PS, my in-laws have also had mussels. And tonight we are back in Port-en-Bessin France, our second night in this hotel. It is super shabby, not, the Cheneviere.

Our first night was at the Grand Hotel Cabourg, a hotel right out of central casting. And our room was a small apartment in NYC.

First night we ate at the hotel for a meet and greet. The group of 10 from Ann Arbor are clearly the alpha team… but the week is young. We independents from PA, CA, OH, and Canada may have them on their heels later in the week.

Our first ride on Sunday after meeting in Trouville was a quick shuttle to Cambremer in Pays D’Auge and then a 25m “get to know your bike” ride ending in The Grand Hotel Cabourg.

Day 2, Monday AM, we left Cabourg and cycled and marveled seeing Pegasus Bridge, Courseuiles sur Mer, on to Arromanches where we saw the remains of the first Mulberry Harbor, a temporary port constructed immediately after D Day, (or as we learned D day is a term for Day 1 – the operation was Operation Overlord) and on to Hotel Cheneviere. 50 m yes, but broken up by a cappuccino, the greatest almond pastry ever eaten, a slice of French version pizza, hilarious communication about said pizza, and marvelous trails through farm fields and quiet roads.

Today, Tuesday 9/20 was Omaha Beach and a private tour, super moving, but I am super tired. I’ll check in tomorrow and catch you up on Omaha Beach, and also St Michel which we travel to tomorrow.

Sleepy

More later, hope to see you along the way.

Sunday morning, brisk. We have met our group (20 ppl) and group leaders. A group of 10 from Ann Arbor, 2 from Ohio, 2 from CA, 2 from Canada, 4 from PA (another couple from Pottsville, PA.) The cycle leaders are both Americans living in France. Zoe, from Palo Alto and went to college at Bryn Mawr, what are the chances! Isabel from Michigan (the Ann Arbor crew was thrilled), and James from South Africa. All 3 seem great.

We are a mix of riders using electric bikes, carbon bikes, and 4 of us (me and Joe included) riding good old touring bikes.

Gotta run, more later.

Hope to see you along the way.

We’re in France. Successful trip on the Eurostar (chunnel) this morning, car service out to Trouville sur Mer. Checked into the Hotel Flaubert mid afternoon. Small hotel with charm. This is going to sound silly, but the keys are the big clunkers that you leave behind at the desk when you go out, and the room numbers are no more than 2 digits. Not sure what the word is, not homey, maybe it is charming? Anyway I like it!

Dropped our bags, went in search of mussels for Joe immediately.

Very quickly we realized that Trouville is a fabulous country cousin of Paris or other large French cities, meaning no parler English. Madame Amiry would be proud of me, I am navigating us through everything from pickled peppers to music playlists. Entertaining to say the least.

Again today we wandered and watched. This is a coastal town, our hotel is right on the beach strand. We were in jackets, others had on jackets and hats, others had on bathing suits, others left their bathing tops at home. Like any beach town, there is that interesting juxtaposition of the locals and the tourists, but all seemed united in the quest for a glass of wine or beer with lunch. And to that end I observed my spirit animals; an older couple eating a late lunch that included a bottle of wine and an ice cream sundae each. Vive la France!

Tonight we wandered for a late dinner and settled on a small cafe, Tivoli something. We eschewed the snobby cafe that had no time for our language bumbling (and I cannot blame them, we were bumbling) and wandered into a small place that looked welcoming. Joe had an amazing Dover sole and I had my dream dinner, glass of wine, good bread, and a selection of 3 milder cheeses. Lovely.

Tomorrow we switch gears and get going with the cycling tour. We are prepared to fake it, not make it, and have a grand time.

Talk soon.

Hope to see you along the way.

Thursday night, 9/15/22 – Yippeee headed off to France to cycle for 5 days. Oh wait, what, no, say it ain’t so, flight cancelled, notification is via text, next available flight is Sunday night. We say shit, the French say merde.

It is now Saturday morning, 9/17, and we’re waiting for the Eurostar train to leave London and head to Paris. As is so true in so many travel snafu, what was SO dramatic, immeasurably awful at the moment, is now in the rear view mirror, and replaced with a fun story and unexpected experiences. In short, we bulldogged American Airlines until they found us something, that something was a flight to London. We booked the Eurostar (chunnel) from St Pancras Stn. in London to Gare du Nord in Paris. And then we splurged on a car service from Gare du Nord out to the coast. Did I mention there is a air traffic controller strike in Paris? A queen’s funeral in London? Planes, trains, automobiles at a premium. Oh and it’s 48 degrees in London and I seemed to think I’d be Fifi LaRoo and packed sundresses. But I digress.

We arrived in London Friday AM, still pretty unsettled as the plan to get to France was iffy and hopeful, but we were “stuck” in London for the day night. (See what I mean, how can you say stuck in London and not realize life ain’t so bad.) We found a hotel, dumped our bags, and started walking. Crisp, but clear and sunny, and all the world was also out walking. Due to the Queen’s funeral, London is closed on Monday and it seemed like many made a 3 day weekend into 4 days. Our hotel was in the area of St Pancras station and we walked south(?) towards Westminster to see all the action. The walk did not disappoint. The architecture alone is so fun, but throw in the people watching.. fantastic. Within many blocks of Westminster the crowds were crazy, and everyone was a variation of a tourist. An unusual energy that even locals told us was unique. It really was such a cool day. Lunch, was classic fish and chips. Delicious!

We finished the day out with a fun cocktail and conversation with a bartender from Budapest, and dinner with a waiter who was half Ethiopian, half Italian, who loves Scotch and insisted we close out the meal with an Amaro. I mean why not, it is a classic digestif.

Pictures to follow, talk soon.

Hope to see you along the way.

Blogger lesson learned…post each night or at a minimum, journal sights, sounds, smells, tastes.
Once we left Nairobi, connectivity was spotty at best so for this trip, it will have to be a retrospective view. Truth be told, we were so busy experiencing that I forgot to write.

Long post, apologies in advance.

From Nairobi, we headed to 3 safari camps. Camps being a very loose term, think glamping (glamorous camping), not a Bunsen burner in sight, but all 3 strict eco camps where maximum effort is made to minimize the impact on the planet. Bye bye, throw away this, and plastic that, creative use and reuse is the order of the day.  The strategy of choosing these 3 camps was to maximize the variety of animals seen, and more specifically watch the Migration of animals as they make their way from South to North for food.  (oh and the side benefit, all 3 camps were beyond anything I could have imagined) A total of 4M animals, prominently wildebeest, zebra, gazelle are on the move during this time.

Our first camp bordered Amboseli National Park where the elephant “ellies” are king.  And if you leave Amboseli without falling in love with these intelligent and mighty creatures, you need to check your radar.

We met our guides, Eric and Simon at the airport.  And our Tortelis Camp hosts, a Scottish couple Candy and Graham met us at the camp with a Welcome.  We would soon learn that each time we arrived “home”, someone would be waiting to greet us and ask us about our day.

For these 2 days at Tortelis, we went out early in the morning (6:30), and end of day (4pm) to maximize viewing.  Rumbling around in an open air jeep with animals around us on all sides, quite simply doing their thing.  Both of our guides love their job, love their land, and were able to answer all of our questions.  It was a running dialog each day, pauses as we came within feet of something instead of yards, and then we would resume our conversation.  Besides the animals, we started learning about the culture, the tribes, and much detail on the Masai tribe who rule the land we were exploring.  Our guide Eric is Masai and lived the traditional Masai life though now raising his children in a more modern life.  He takes his children back to his village on vacation so they don’t lose their roots.  Could spend a long blog on what we learned about old vs new in the Masai world, but generally new represents education, farming the land in addition to owning cows, monogamy vs polygamy (insert the Mr.s comment here “more than one wife?  I question the reason for one!).  Our tour of a Masai village was eye opening..maybe eye popping is more appropriate, and then hilarious as the exit was through a gauntlet of bead selling women.  (Not to be outdone, a Masai warrior offered Kathleen 20 cows for Katie..and he was serious!)

Back at the camp, we ate buffet style for meals.  My only regret of the trip..how I wish I had written down the dishes we ate, and took pictures!  One meal was better than the next, not glamorous, not froofy, just a a great mix of food and spices.  And dessert!!  After every meal!!  Divine.

The staff could not have been more gracious and kind addressing every request.

Highlight for me at this stop was an elephant within 5 feet of me telling our jeep, “no closer”, and we listened, and on our final night, a Sundowner.

“Sundowner” to uneducated me meant a type of cocktail, instead, it means an event, i.e., we’re stopping for the event of the sun going down.  Our jeeps climbed to the top of a range, and there at the top waiting for us were camp chairs arranged for maximum viewing and cocktail and snack set up.  And alas the bottle of tequila that we risked life and limb for in Nairobi was part of the bar set up.  Not sure that the staff knew what to make of the old white lady who said, “take a load off boys, I’ll make some drinks”.  Hello tequila and some concoction of Kenyan juices.  Many laughs later and the sun long since set, we drove back to camp.

After lots of hugs the next morning, we left for Cottars Camp on the Mara Reserve.  One we again we took a hopper flight, landed in a grass field, were met by jeeps.  Not sure how I am ever going to fly commercial again, let along stay in a Courtyard Marriott!!

Cottars Camp was built in the 1920’s and the camp is still owned by generations of the same family.  Here we stayed in one house together above the camp and looking over the Masa Mara Reserve…oh and the Serengeti.  Our guides were Doug and Ken and house staff was William, Phoebe, Sephora and Bonny.  In a lifetime I may never live this well again, but man for a few days, it was outrageous.  We had 3 days at this location and we did not miss a minute.  Similar schedule, out early in the morning, wake up our animal friends, breakfast out on the range complete with a loo with a view,

lunch at the house, evening game drive, and then dinner.

Doug and Ken have been with Cottars for 14 and 9 years.  They were the perfect hosts and mixed education about the land and animals with easy banter.  With awe, we watched the first Migration cross the Sand River.  Animals in single file heading down and over the river towards the north plains with long grass.  Even Ken and Doug sat quietly and watched.  “This still wows you?”  I asked.  “Of course, its the first of the season, we have not seen it since last year”.  Kind of like the start of football season?  Don’t worry I did not say that out loud.  At full throttle it must be amazing as we were wowed by 3-5K animals on the move.  Due to unexpected but somewhat welcome rains, the Migration is delayed this year.  The animals are not as desperate to find new food sources.  We lucked out seeing what we did as other travelers were not so lucky.

Back at the house, we had to keep an eye on William who liked nothing more than pouring a stiff drink, Bonny the chef who used his vegetable and herb garden to its fullest (also an amazing baker..if I can ever get the recipe for his Banoffee pie I’ll be a happy woman) and Phoebe and Sephora who kept us on schedule. This stop also included hot air ballooning for some, for others a lazy drive along the Sand River trying to flush out animals.  A walk instead of a drive, complete with guns and spears for safety, and also here is where we ran with the Masai.

The house was spectacular

and Calvin Cottar happened to be in the camp while we were there and stopped up to the house for a drink.  Lots of discussion about changes needed in Kenya and specifically the Masa Mara region so that the best balance of progress and tradition is achieved.  Whole truth…I zoned out.  Too highbrow for me and once Kevin started making me laugh I was a goner and had to discreetly leave the room.  But a worthy conversation none the less.  With progress comes problems, and who and what interests are behind the progressive stance is a landmine in itself.  By all local accounts, corruption is rampant, and seemingly those in the most jeopardy, are those with the least.  See…that’s why I walked away from the conversation.  I want to pretend I live every day with “staff” and lions don’t need to kill gazelle to stay alive.

Again with tears in my eyes we left Cottars.

Highlight here, hmmm…tough to say…seeing the Migration, a run with the Masai, staying at a house like this, swimming in Kenya in a 25 meter pool in the backyard…meeting this amazing group of people…let me get back to you on the highlight here.

On to Mara Plains..a 3+ hour drive in the jeep with safara-ing (is that a word) along the way.  For the final 30 or so minutes, we drove with an armed escort…somewhat disconcerting and we theorized like crazy, but the reality was much more real.  After recent floods, roads and bridges were gone so the path to the camp was re-routed, known by local guides only.  And the gun, well its the wild, everyone has a gun or spear right?

Mara Plains is the standard bearer for glamping.

For 2 nights we were 9 of 14 total guests and all around us, I mean right around us, were animals.  Tony and Cheryl’s tent was next to “hippo highway” with the meaning becoming abundantly clear in the night when the hippos make their way out of the water to wander, and then splash back in during early morning.  This was the first stop that the trip caught up with me.  I fell into bed on night one and missed all the “in the middle of night wildlife sounds” that kept others awake for the night.  And according to the Mr., my snoring rivaled the hyenas laughing, rhino’s snorting, and water hogs rummaging.

Our guides for Mara Plains, Kevin, very studied and serious; and Nick, who never met a Lion King movie line he did not like, and maintained hours of rift that made me laugh until my ribs hurt.  He had voices, opinions, stories (he is Masai, one of 33 children of a father who had 5 wives).

Mara Plains is home to cats…and cats we saw!!  Along with the complement of zebra, wildebeest, giraffe, wart hogs, gazelles.

The highlight for some was surely a cheetah in successful pursuit and catch of a Thompson gazelle.  With 4 baby cubs to feed, a swing a miss was not an option.  I was in the other jeep and missed it, probably for the better.  Much as I would have loved to see a cheetah in full sprint, the kill would have killed me.  I know, I know, its nature.  Watching the cubs feed off the kill was mesmerizing.  And later we drove passed the kill site, nothing left.  Cubs had first dibs, then the mother, then hyena, jackal, and finally vulture.  All very tidy.

At Mara Plains, I started to feel the window closing.  This adventure of a lifetime was soon over.  Our next stop was Nairobi and then home.  We sat by a fire the last night and reveled in the canopy of stars, never has the phrase been more appropriate.  It was like netting there were so many.  And the Southern Cross which we cannot see from here…how cool!!

Monday, we made our last trip to a bush airport and flew back to Nairobi.  I swear every animal knew we were leaving and stepped out to wave goodbye..even a python snake!!

So so so many amazing things that we saw, heard, smelled, touched, experienced.  Cannot recommend this trip more.  And do it now if you’re my age, not for the faint of heart.  Each day is long and the sensory overload is that much more overwhelming.  Someone had said to me, you don’t go to bed, you fall into bed.  True statement.

Periodically the Mr. and I would look at one another and the unspoken exchange, can you believe this…  On the plane ride home, we laughed or maybe cried thinking about our diminished bank accounts and said, where to next.  We wrote our top five picks and then exchanged notes.

Hope to see you along the way.