I had planned to follow the Canal latéral à la Garonne by mountain bike toward Bordeaux and then enjoy the cycle paths around the Arcachon Basin. But given the weather forecast—persistent northwesterly winds all week—I decided to reverse course and head for the Mediterranean instead.
Monday, 09/03/07 – Valence d’Agen 08:00 to Rangueil 14:00, 95 km
For the first part of the route, which I’ve already described, see Chapter 1 (03/07).
After reaching Castelsarrasin on a lovely cycle path, I was surprised six months later to encounter more construction on the stretch between Castelsarrasin and Montech. The cycle path had been created, but some sections were unfinished, while others were still under way—almost as if technical issues were preventing completion or the work was being done reluctantly. For example, when you arrive under a bridge, the pavement just stops because the machinery can’t fit underneath.
I came across a truck dumping gravel and followed the access road to an old canal house. The owner greeted me poorly, eventually admitting that my mistake was due to the ongoing work (I’d already noticed on previous trips that this man did everything he could to discourage people from passing in front of his house along the canal). Further on, I had to follow a detour for the construction of a road bridge, where a walker kindly pointed me in the right direction and even offered me water.
These minor inconveniences didn’t stop me from completing my first leg in 6 hours (it took 10:15 in March 2007). I had the wind at my back and had minimized my breaks.
I was supposed to be at INSA Toulouse by 3 PM to register my daughter (she was doing an internship at AIRBUS).
Tuesday, 09/04 – Rangueil 08:45 to Castelnaudary 16:00, 73 km
A light morning rain started falling as I was loading my bike.
I decided to wait a bit under the porch of the student residence where my daughter has her studio. That’s when it’s useful to have brought a book (*The Canal du Midi and the Navigable Waterways from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean*, Éditions Ouest-France), even if it weighs 570 g—not insignificant on a bike.
Once the rain stopped, I found the cycle path connecting Toulouse to Port Lauragais.
I’d barely gone a few kilometers when I felt something off with the pedals. My left pedal had come loose. I pulled out my multi-head wrench (6–15 mm) and tightened it. Twenty kilometers later, it was loose again. This time, I used my screwdriver as a lever to tighten it more. The lightweight aluminum wrench didn’t hold up, and I ended up with two pieces—but at least the pedal was tight.
With no time constraints, I took a few detours near the canal.
I admired the *clocher mur* (wall bell tower) of the church in Villenouvelle (one of the most beautiful in the Toulouse region) and, by chance, passed a small motorcycle shop where I borrowed a 14 mm wrench to finish tightening the pedal assembly.
I admired the village of Saint-Rome, with its houses in different architectural styles, but only got a glimpse over the surrounding wall—visits weren’t allowed. I pushed on to Villefranche-de-Lauragais, where I enjoyed the daily special at the *Auberge de la Pradelle* for 12 €.
I rejoined the canal, then left it again to climb on foot to Montferrand, where a beautiful fortified gate remains. From this height, I admired the panorama over the Lauragais region and the Montagne Noire, and discovered the aeronautical beacon built in 1927 to guide Aéropostale pilots.
Back on the Canal du Midi at the *écluse de l’Océan*, I followed the water-divide stretch to the *écluse de la Méditerranée* along the towpath on the right bank until Castelnaudary. (You’d have to reach Béziers to find pavement again—there’s a cycle path to Portiragnes.)
I chose to stay (room for 45 €) at the *Hôtel Restaurant la Maison du Cassoulet* and, of course, took the half-board option (60 € total). I wasn’t the only one storing my bike in the small space under the stairs. I recognized an elderly couple (I’d soon join their ranks) whom I’d passed on the canal; they were staying in the hotel across the street (50 € for the room), but it was under the same ownership.
At 7:35 PM, I went down for dinner (service started at 7:30 PM) and waited half an hour to be served a piping-hot cassoulet that I then had to let cool (I didn’t have a plate). The whole time, the waiter turned away customers. I wasn’t the only one wanting to dine at *la Maison du Cassoulet* in Castelnaudary. Maybe not the best plan! It didn’t leave a great culinary memory, though it didn’t upset my stomach like the one in Revel (Ch. 1). The room was fine—it had been recently renovated (after being taken over by the owners of the hotel across the street).
For the first time, I set foot in a cybercafé. Cyber, yes—café? There was indeed a coffee maker (like at home) and a fridge with non-alcoholic drinks. For 3.80 €, I got an hour of internet access, and for 1.20 €, a can of soda. I checked the weather, which still predicted a northwesterly wind of about 15 km/h. I’d continue with a favorable wind. It was this wind that helped me, identifiable by the ripples it formed when it blew in the same direction as the canal’s flow (in my case, after the *seuil de Naurouze*) and by small waves when it blew against it (before the *seuil de Naurouze*). When real waves started forming on the canal, that was a bad sign. Don’t laugh! At the port of Castelnaudary, there’s the largest basin on the canal (to supply the quadruple lock at Saint-Roch). They had to create a wooded island to break up the mini-storms that were tossing the lightest boats onto the quay and sinking the most heavily loaded ones.
Wednesday, 09/05 – Castelnaudary 09:00 to Capendu 17:00, 73 km
Leaving the town center, I followed the basin on the left bank. But houses had been built right up to the edge, leaving only a 30–40 cm passage to get through. Some English tourists about to refuel their boat had to let me pass before accessing the diesel pump. It’s better to stay on the right bank when coming from the *seuil de Naurouze*. You just have to make a small detour to go around the workshop hangar of CROWN BLUE LINE, which connects to the basin by water. Boats from this company are everywhere on the canal. You’ll find many of them in the “port” of La Tamarissière, which they created on the canal after Portiragnes. There, many Germans and Swiss leave their cars in a secure parking lot to rent a boat for about 2000 €/week (95 € to have your car transported to your destination). But the English are the most numerous on the canal. Are they coming for the sun? Do they have more purchasing power, or do they appreciate our heritage more than we do? Probably all three. It was an Englishman who wrote the first book (*The Canal Between Two Seas* by L.T.C. Rolt, Euromapping) that sparked my passion for the canal.
I decided to visit Saint-Papoul, 6 km away, to admire the former cathedral, following the GR7 trail that runs along the canal before crossing the village. I covered part of the distance by bike, then decided to leave it tied to a tree. After a 3 km walk, I admired the cloister, though it’s less beautiful than the one in Moissac. The advantage of traveling in this season is that you can pick blackberries, figs, and, further south, a few grapes.
Back on the towpath, I overtook the same three cyclists I’d seen after Toulouse. They were women, the youngest of whom must have been in her fifties. They were enjoying coffee from a thermos. They’d left their car in Agde and taken the train to Toulouse.
They confirmed they’d made this choice because of the wind.
Having “lost” 2.5 hours visiting Saint-Papoul, I was worried I’d arrive too late at the crêperie at *l’écluse d’Herminis*. I got there at 2 PM and was happy to learn they served food all day. I opted for a buckwheat galette with egg, ham, and homemade *pipérade*, along with a bottle of cider. What a great idea to have turned this lockkeeper’s house into a crêperie!
You can eat here while enjoying the charm of the canal: sunshine, trees, greenery, and calm water. I savored the moment, especially since the waitress told me the place would be closed the following week after a season where she worked from 6 AM to 11 PM every day using fresh ingredients. I complimented her, only regretting that she used ready-made chocolate (like other crêperies) for the chocolate-banana crêpe I had for dessert.
My next pedal strokes took me through Carcassonne, which was a bit frustrating because you can’t see the fortifications at all from the canal. Maybe I’ll stop there on the way back. The canal passes through the lower town, and there’s a tricky little passage between two almost vertical walls with puddles and mud. I admired a man suspended by a harness, trimming the embankment opposite with a brush cutter.
Arriving at the SNCF train station, you have to switch to the right bank to continue.
Further on, while I was resting in the shade of the plane trees, I saw four young boys on bikes pass by. They didn’t speak French, and I was surprised to see them alone. I saw them again later with four adults at the guesthouse where I was staying. They were from Venezuela, but I never found out the context of their canal visit. The next day, two of the kids seemed eager to leave and took out their bikes with an adult before breakfast. I was surprised that none of them noticed one of the bikes had a flat tire—it was obvious when the boy got on the mountain bike, the tire was completely squashed. Maybe they weren’t used to riding bikes? While they were having breakfast, I walked over carrying the bike. The two boys watched me with wide eyes. With my limited English, I made sure they had what they needed to repair and inflate the tire before leaving.
Thanks to the internet-savvy cyclists who told me about the guesthouse:
*Relais Occitan*, Domaine de Beauvoir, Route de Capendu, 11800 Marseillette, +33 4 68 79 12 67
http://perso.orange.fr/relais.occitan/ 17 € including sheets and breakfast (not a B&B).
This was the best memory of my trip. I was able to sleep in a *foudre* (a large wine barrel) that had been converted into a room. You access it via a small wooden staircase and have two beds, a chair, and lighting.
Instead of Bordeaux, I slept lulled by the lingering scents of Corbières or Minervois wines. The village of Capendu is 2 km away. I walked there and circled it without finding an open restaurant (I’d have better luck on the way back). This allowed me to enjoy the recently redone roads as I climbed to the church perched on a small rocky outcrop, adding charm to the place. Back after 6 or 7 km, I settled for some cookies and a small pouch of applesauce (very practical, though it creates waste like all single-serve packaging). Though the owner offered to fix me a plate of pasta, I thanked him, reminding him that I’d eaten very well at the Herminis crêperie.
Thursday, 09/06 – Capendu 09:00 to Gruissan 17:00, 86 km
I started the day with breakfast in the sun, enjoying fig jam. I couldn’t resist asking the guesthouse owner for the recipe:
Cut 1 kg of ripe figs in half.
Let them macerate overnight with 600 g of sugar.
Cook for 40 minutes (longer for larger quantities) with almonds. Skim if necessary.
I recommend pouring it hot into jars, sealing them, and turning them upside down. As it cools, a vacuum will form without needing paraffin to preserve it.
You need to take the left bank of the towpath at the *écluse de Marseillette*.
My attention was caught by an electrical box. It was an ELECTRA charging station for electric cruise boats, a project led by the *Réseau Aquitain Véhicules Électriques* and supported by the *Association Française Bateau Électrique*.
That’s when it hit me—I’d never imagined doing the canal in a *pénichette* (houseboat).
Maximum authorized speed: 8 km/h (on a bike, you double that with ease).
Long waits at the locks (they’re closed from 12 to 1 PM).
In fact, the canal is a celebration of slowness. You shouldn’t *do* the canal—you should *discover* it and its surroundings. And now I’m considering doing it again in retirement, on an electric boat…
For now, I pedaled and overtook two young women. One, with a generous build (she filled out her cycling outfit well), gave me a big smile and said that, after all, I wasn’t going any faster than they were. It was the tortoise and the hare principle—my sightseeing made me lose the time I’d gained. They wanted to go as far as Sète, and I told them that after Agde, the path was really rough (see Ch. 2, 08/07).
I crossed at the *écluse de l’Aiguille* to switch to the right bank. Between Argens and Paraza, the towpath is replaced by a departmental road. The Château de Ventenac-Minervois caught my eye, and I decided to have lunch at *Le Grilladou*, which offered couscous for 10 € every Thursday at noon. A pleasant spot—though located in the village, the restaurant has a large terrace under mulberry-plane trees. I opted for the carafe of red wine (included).
Here, everything tastes like wine—even the water, served in a wine bottle, drunk from wine glasses, and almost the color of it, especially in my little chipped carafe, still haloed with Minervois.
And all of it digests quite well. However, I quickly realized that the more you eat, the less you pedal, and I had to forget the large plate for the next 15 km under the midday heat.
Having explored the end of the Canal du Midi this summer (Ch. 2), at Kilometer Point 169, I turned right toward Sallèles-d’Aude to follow the *canal de jonction* toward the *Canal de la Robine*.
Here, the locks have been automated, and for a while, umbrella pines replaced the plane trees on the towpath. Used to suffering from the bumps caused by the latter’s roots every time you don’t lift your butt to use your legs as shock absorbers, I realized that pine roots are worse—more gnarled and harder to avoid.
I covered about ten kilometers before the *canal de jonction* flowed into the Aude River, where boats travel a short kilometer before descending into the *Canal de la Robine*.
That’s when I regretted not preparing my itinerary better.
I’d bought IGN maps of the Agen-Bordeaux-Arcachon area but had to leave them behind, contenting myself with some info on the Canal du Midi (thanks to Philippe Calas’s website) and a few tips from internet users for restaurants and accommodations.
But since I hadn’t studied the *Canal de la Robine* route—where everything is designed for boats but nothing for pedestrians or cyclists—I found myself in the vineyards and, for the first time, felt in difficulty. On foot through the brush, I reached the bed of the Aude, but it was useless—I had to find the towpath of the *Canal de la Robine* (older than the Canal du Midi). I returned to the *épanchoir de Gailhousty* (a beautiful structure) to see that the point where I saw the boats turning offered no way to cross in sight. Only a railway bridge, seemingly inaccessible, loomed about thirty meters above the Aude. Fortunately, I spotted a marked mountain bike trail indicating Narbonne. I followed it through the bushes and climbed to the railway level. The end of the path was made of ballast, and I preferred to finish on foot, having little skill for off-roading, especially with a loaded bike. I reached the shiny railway tracks under the sun—an indication they weren’t abandoned. I crossed the bridge without lingering (as the saying goes). Once on the other bank, after what felt like a hundred meters, I had the choice between a steep ramp or a concrete staircase. I can carry my bike up stairs, but when it’s loaded, I don’t feel up to it. I decided to empty my panniers and proceeded in two stages.
At the next imposing structure, which connects the Aude to the *Canal de la Robine*, I found the towpath, which was quickly marked as a cycle path to Narbonne. What a pleasure to discover this beautiful city and cross its center along the canal, avoiding traffic. I stopped at the tourist office to pick up a map of the cycle paths. Oddly, the hostess didn’t ask me which department I was from (I would have been proud to say I’d arrived by bike). A nice surprise—continuing toward Port-la-Nouvelle, I found the coastal cycle path leading to Narbonne Plage, passing through Gruissan. That’s where I decided to stay in a holiday village run by my works council. This route sometimes takes a small stretch of road and gravel paths but mainly follows a very pleasant cycle path, though it lacks signposts. I passed a large group of teenagers on a school outing, and they tended to think the whole path was reserved for them.
What a treat to be able to swim in Gruissan’s saltwater lagoon. I appreciated cooling off even more after a 327 km journey to reach the Mediterranean.
Friday, 09/07 and Saturday, 09/08 – Gruissan, 88 km
I started these two rest days with an 8 AM to 12 PM hike in the *massif de la Clape*, followed by a swim.
In the afternoon, I visited Gruissan village and then the port, where I checked the weather at *L’Argonaute* (a cybercafé named after the sailboat that offers cruises in high latitudes) for 1 € per 10 minutes (non-discounted—better to use the free connection at the tourist office or the harbor master’s office).
Good weather and a northwesterly wind—I’d have to wait until Thursday to leave with a favorable wind and risk being caught by rain.
I confirmed this weather on the TV at the holiday village bar.
I watched the news, and the first four stories were about rugby. It was the first match of the World Cup for France, who were favorites. The entertainment team planned to broadcast TF1 on the big screen and a movie on TV.
Don’t ask me if the match was good—I watched the DVD I’d bought for the occasion: *Don’t Worry, I’m Fine*, a great film about a father’s love for his children.
Don’t think I’d have preferred a soccer match or that I’m anti-sport. I’m for sport and against competition. For me, the only way to play soccer is the African way: as soon as a player scores a goal, they switch to the opposing team.
All the hype around these events reminds me of Roman times, when people demanded “bread and circuses!” or makes me think that the opium of the people isn’t religion anymore—it’s competitive sports.
On Saturday, I decided to return via the cycle path to the *Canal de la Robine* and go all the way to its end at Port-la-Nouvelle—the only seaport accessible by freshwater sailors.
I saw a few rowers (curious to be moving backward).
The wind blew as usual in the region, and the contrast was stark between shady areas where you got cold and sunny spots where the sun warmed you intensely.
The canal runs alongside the Île Sainte-Lucie nature reserve, a hiking spot offering a mix of lagoons, ponds, blue skies, and sea scents, along with its wildlife.
But I decided to continue to Sigean, where I enjoyed a few minutes of wind reversal in the Perpignan area and spotted some pink flamingos.
On the way back, I passed a boat speeding along the canal. The woman at the helm and the shirtless man standing didn’t seem to know why the speed limit was 8 km/h. It’s to prevent *batillage* (waves from the wake eroding the banks, gradually washing away the soil held by vegetation).
I wrote my last postcards (not easy with the wind) and prepared my bike.
Sunday, 09/09 – Gruissan 08:45 to Capendu 18:15, 82 km
9:30 to cover 82 km isn’t great. Usually, my cruising speed varies between 15 and 20 km/h depending on the state of the towpath, but I couldn’t exceed 10 before reaching the *Canal de la Robine*. There, I passed about 200 cyclists (I saw bib number 189) on a family outing. Canals and big cities always make a good combination. They must have come from Narbonne. A young girl on a city bike, followed by what was surely her mother and father, came toward me. Surprisingly, the man was carrying a mountain bike in a sort of backpack, probably so his daughter could switch bikes. It seemed to be a 24-inch one, and it didn’t seem to bother him while pedaling.
Further on, I picked up the pace to catch up with a runner. I told him he was running at 15 km/h. He said he could keep that up for a marathon. Still, with this headwind, you’ve got to be tough.
After picking some figs from a providential tree, I arrived in Narbonne, where I’d spotted a water point. Above the canal, the market seemed lively, and the pedestrian bridge over it was crowded. I didn’t linger, having reserved the *foudre* for the evening, stopping often to eat my cookies and, as a luxury on a bike, a peach I’d carefully wrapped. I found the railway bridge where I did the same transfer and the *canal de jonction*. I arrived at the Canal du Midi, still busy with boats. This time, I enjoyed the restaurant in Capendu, where I had mussels served piping hot (unlike the ones I’d eaten in Gruissan).
Monday, 09/10 – Capendu 08:15 to Rangueil 19:15, 128 km
This would be the longest leg, and even if the wind wasn’t as strong as in Narbonne, it would also be the hardest. Fortunately, the canal was always calm and friendly. Here, everyone says hello—unlike in everyday life (a fitting description).
Not wanting to cross Carcassonne along the canal, I decided prematurely to switch to the left bank, which I should have done in front of the train station. I took advantage of a bridge, thinking I was near Carcassonne, but after 2 or 3 km, I found myself blocked by a watercourse fed by the canal and had to turn back (the kind of mistake you’d rather avoid on a long trip). Avoiding the muddy banks, I crossed Carcassonne on the boulevards. I was back in traffic and its horrors. I’d almost forgotten how disgusting diesel exhaust fumes are (that sour smell), and few people do anything to stop it.
I found the climber struggling with his brush cutter just 200 meters further than on my outbound trip.
Arriving at the Herminis lock crêperie, I saw the owner taking down the string lights. I was surprised he was dismantling them when the weather was so nice and his website said the closure was set for the first September rains. He told me he was too tired to continue and also had the right to enjoy the good weather. I wished him a good rest.
Further on, I enjoyed a few moments of happiness on the terrace of the restaurant at the port of Bram. I sat at the sun-shade boundary because the little north wind was still chilly. In this paradise of calm, light, and greenery, I savored a *farandole* of pasta (white, orange, green, and black) in carbonara sauce—the daily special. Sure, 12 € is a lot for bacon and cream, but it was also worth it for the presentation, the elegance of the tablecloths, and the cutlery.
At a bend where the wind was partially blocked, I managed to exceed 15 km/h and even more on the downhill after a lock. Alas, I had to brake to avoid crashing into ropes I saw at the last moment against the light. Some English tourists were letting boats coming the opposite way through the lock and, unable to tie up to the bollards already in use, had stretched ropes between the trees and their boat.
“Sorry!” Even here, there are traffic jams.
For the first time, I exceeded 100 km and had to walk with the bike a few times to relax my muscles and snack without losing time. How to stay motivated to the end? First, have good motivation. In my case, free accommodation at my daughter’s apartment (except I pay the rent) and finding some mental occupations. For example, four couples decided to name their daughter Sarah (Mr. and Mrs. Fermi, Lenti, Vigote)—I didn’t find the fourth. I used the painted markings on the cycle path between Port Lauragais and Toulouse to check my odometer’s accuracy (by the end of the trip, I couldn’t stop looking at it). After cross-referencing (not always easy between two locks), I determined the reading was 2% too high. Not bad. On my 406, it was 6%, and on my 407, it’s 1% (manufacturers are allowed to indicate speed in excess but never below).
Tuesday, 09/11 – Rangueil 08:45 to Valence d’Agen 18:15, 103 km
Before leaving Toulouse, I went to the tourist office (too bad for the extra kilometers) to buy *Lait de Cocagne* as a gift.
It’s a body lotion with pastel oil, with a soft plant scent (like baby lotion).
It’s slightly tinted blue to recall that pastel, once used as a dye after drying the leaves and shaping them into balls (*cocagne*), made the Lauragais region wealthy.
I’d barely left the Canal du Midi at the twin bridges to join the *Canal latéral à la Garonne* when clouds covered the blue sky, as if signaling my passage to the west.
Advantage over the Canal du Midi: out of 95 km, I’d do over 60 on a paved path. This lets you fully enjoy the landscape without having to watch for the best (or least bad) track, scanning every centimeter for stones or roots to avoid.
Too bad the *Canal latéral* offers less variety in landscapes and engineering works. Apart from the *pente d’eau* in Montech and the *pont canal* in Moissac (which you absolutely mustn’t miss), it’s mostly the passing trains that offer a bit of distraction. But for now, it was the delicious blackberries that caught my attention. Much more abundant than on the Canal du Midi, thanks to the rainfall but especially the lower traffic.
Rediscovering my gatherer’s instinct, I spotted the red fruits. That’s why we were given the ability to see colors—to quickly distinguish ripe fruit. A faculty herbivores or carnivores like dogs don’t have, as they see in black and white. We’re not about to lose this ability, as in our society, it’s vital not to confuse red and green at intersections. And while I’m a supporter of the team in green, my friends will forgive me (or congratulate me) for having beaten up a supporter in red or even the referee (after all, he’s in black), but it would be stupid to hit a green one (colorblind people abstain).
It was only about thirty kilometers before Montech that I found the dirt path, then gravel at a spot where the trees were still too young to protect me from the wind, so I walked beside the bike. That’s where I rediscovered the kindness of people on the canal. A cyclist asked if I had a problem. I told him I’d been riding against the wind for three days, and he understood I was a bit winded.
Upon arriving in Montech, I found the greenway, which I wouldn’t leave until my town. Oddly, it avoids the port, one of the most pleasant spots on the route, making cyclists take a 50-meter detour on the road—though it does offer the chance to stop at the ice cream parlor-restaurant, which, at 3 PM, wasn’t open. Still, it would be almost the only establishment I’d pass. This contrasts sharply with the Canal du Midi, where boaters and cyclists constantly mingle, with such crowds that accidents are a risk.
Following the ribbon of asphalt, I passed the locks of Montech and found myself stuck on a peninsula. I tried in vain to continue on the left bank (the wrong one) to access the road bridge still under construction. No way to cross to the other bank.
I had to turn back. Though there were no signs, you have to take the road along the *pente d’eau* to find the cycle path.
I hope signs will be put up to indicate directions, distances, and businesses, as well as to invite people to discover the surrounding sites.
I’ll write to the *Conseil Général* to congratulate them and suggest this.
It would be a shame if the investment made:
Department: 1,118,140 €
Europe: 525,000 €
Region: 194,430 €
State: 194,430 €
TOTAL: 2,100,000 € (excluding tax)
For the Lamagistère-Brouzidou section in Tarn-et-Garonne wasn’t followed by promotion and maintenance (there are already cracks in the pavement in Valence d’Agen).
Arriving in Castelsarrasin at *Port Cousteau*, I saw the final work connecting the cycle path through the town. Then, to Moissac, there were many walkers along the canal, as usual since this development.
I finished the 313 km return in three days, much less pleasant than the outbound trip but still with good weather.
Notes: Mountain bike (if you want to see it, I described it on the VELOTAF forum, as I also use it to commute to work:
http://www.velotaf.com/index.php?showtopic=952&st=0&p=25666&#entry25666)
Weight: 19 kg without luggage, 24 kg with.
I don’t understand why a 25% increase in bike weight changes the feel completely. With 5 kg more, the mountain bike is less maneuverable and seems much heavier. It becomes impossible to maintain momentum on climbs. Yet with me on it, the total rolling weight only increased by 6%.
Maybe someone can explain this to me?
In the meantime, I’ll continue to prefer towpaths, which are almost flat.
It took me almost as long to tell my trip as it did to do it.
If some parts didn’t interest you, remember that they might have caught someone else’s attention. If others interested no one, I’m sorry.
I hope I’ve inspired some of you to embark on this little adventure.
Regarding accommodation costs, which may seem high, compare them to the expenses for the same trip by car.
According to ViaMichelin, Valence d’Agen to Gruissan is 254 km in 2h30.
Fuel: 23 € (I agree with them—I spend 0.10 € per km on gas)
Tolls: 18 € (not mandatory)
But what’s mandatory and what Michelin seems to forget (like most people) is the investment, wear and tear, maintenance, and insurance.
My car costs me 0.30 €/km (
http://www.velotaf.com/index.php?showtopic=437&st=140&p=31641&#entry31641)
So 254 * 0.30 = 76 €
Whereas I spent: hotel 45 € + guesthouse 17 € = 62 €
Not counting pollution (which is priceless)…