We survived the cold night and were rewarded with blazing sunshine this morning. We took a walk to the bakery and picked up the most amazing almond croissants and a custard croissant.
Got chatting to our neighbours, Ali and his girlfriend, who are training for an ironman triathlon. He is a triathlon trainer by profession, she's never run a marathon before. They figured training at altitude would be a benefit. Good luck to them for the big event in September. They're leaving today to visit his sister in Zurich and welcome her imminently due baby into the world.
I popped into town on the bike to withdraw some cash and returned to find Loobs sparked out in her bikini and the packing looking somewhat incomplete.
Eventually hit the road and enjoyed the baking tarmac. The road west, down from Chamonix is utterly amazing. When you're blessed with weather like this, it's perfect. There's always a stench of cooking brakes from the steady stream HGVs that use this road to cross into France. We hoofed it past everything down the mountain and picked up the route des grandes alps at flumet.
We stuck with the RDGA all the way to thonon on the shore of lake Geneva. I've never known weather like this around here and we made the most of it, refusing to stop until Thonon so we could enjoy the entire stretch with a warm engine and hot sticky tyres.
Deano will fully appreciate the appeal of the last stretch of the RDGA to thonon in 30+ degree heat and a dry, clear road. Biking nirvana.
We stopped in Geneva for photos by the fountain. Louby loved the place and failed to understand my dislike of it. I still rode with eyes in the back of my head and a potty mouth. We escaped unharmed.
Filled the tank with cheap fuel by the border then road through Gex towards Doucier in the Jura. The only way i could drag Louby away from Chamonix this morning was on the promise of water and a beach so she could soak up more sun.
I knew just the place, thanks to the Tigers. I could have a play on the amazing roads past Gex, we'd be the perfect distance for our homeward journey, and Louby could lay on a beach by lac du chalain.
We checked into the campsite and headed straight for the beach, calling into the shop for some cold beers and a big bag of crisps.
I had a swim while Loobs worshipped the evening sun, before we hit the showers and then the bar.
Got talking to a couple of teenage sisters from Devon. They were here with their parents, who later joined us and we chatted over a drink on the terrace before we headed to the restaurant. We'd missed the shop, which had long since closed and we were out of all but the most basic and unappealing emergency provisions.
It was too late for the full menu in the restaurant. After 9.30pm it's pizza only, and they were disappointing efforts. We washed them down with a carafe of rose, which made the pizzas and the loud and lairy British family on the next table, slightly more bearable.
Returned to the tent feeling bloated, full of overloaded but nondescript pizza. We were spoiled in St Moritz and i don't think any other pizza can ever compete. It's a shame. I don't eat a lot of pizza so when i do, I want it to be exceptional.
Woke during the night to the sound of rain on the tent. Quickly pulled on the nearest pair of pants (I think they were mine) then leapt out to save the towels on the washing line. It never came to anything and it was dry but a little overcast in the morning.
PS Sparky - get it right. They were yoga pants and flip flops.
181 miles
Got chatting to our neighbours, Ali and his girlfriend, who are training for an ironman triathlon. He is a triathlon trainer by profession, she's never run a marathon before. They figured training at altitude would be a benefit. Good luck to them for the big event in September. They're leaving today to visit his sister in Zurich and welcome her imminently due baby into the world.
I popped into town on the bike to withdraw some cash and returned to find Loobs sparked out in her bikini and the packing looking somewhat incomplete.
Eventually hit the road and enjoyed the baking tarmac. The road west, down from Chamonix is utterly amazing. When you're blessed with weather like this, it's perfect. There's always a stench of cooking brakes from the steady stream HGVs that use this road to cross into France. We hoofed it past everything down the mountain and picked up the route des grandes alps at flumet.
We stuck with the RDGA all the way to thonon on the shore of lake Geneva. I've never known weather like this around here and we made the most of it, refusing to stop until Thonon so we could enjoy the entire stretch with a warm engine and hot sticky tyres.
Deano will fully appreciate the appeal of the last stretch of the RDGA to thonon in 30+ degree heat and a dry, clear road. Biking nirvana.
We stopped in Geneva for photos by the fountain. Louby loved the place and failed to understand my dislike of it. I still rode with eyes in the back of my head and a potty mouth. We escaped unharmed.
Filled the tank with cheap fuel by the border then road through Gex towards Doucier in the Jura. The only way i could drag Louby away from Chamonix this morning was on the promise of water and a beach so she could soak up more sun.
I knew just the place, thanks to the Tigers. I could have a play on the amazing roads past Gex, we'd be the perfect distance for our homeward journey, and Louby could lay on a beach by lac du chalain.
We checked into the campsite and headed straight for the beach, calling into the shop for some cold beers and a big bag of crisps.
I had a swim while Loobs worshipped the evening sun, before we hit the showers and then the bar.
Got talking to a couple of teenage sisters from Devon. They were here with their parents, who later joined us and we chatted over a drink on the terrace before we headed to the restaurant. We'd missed the shop, which had long since closed and we were out of all but the most basic and unappealing emergency provisions.
It was too late for the full menu in the restaurant. After 9.30pm it's pizza only, and they were disappointing efforts. We washed them down with a carafe of rose, which made the pizzas and the loud and lairy British family on the next table, slightly more bearable.
Returned to the tent feeling bloated, full of overloaded but nondescript pizza. We were spoiled in St Moritz and i don't think any other pizza can ever compete. It's a shame. I don't eat a lot of pizza so when i do, I want it to be exceptional.
Woke during the night to the sound of rain on the tent. Quickly pulled on the nearest pair of pants (I think they were mine) then leapt out to save the towels on the washing line. It never came to anything and it was dry but a little overcast in the morning.
PS Sparky - get it right. They were yoga pants and flip flops.
181 miles
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