Despite the heavy night before, we were up and mounted ready for today's much anticipated bikeride to the Cistercian abbey at Fontenoy. Just 6 Kms it had been a relatively easy sell to Collette. We grabbed a coffee and hit the road expecting another Pyrenean style climb.
Stopped and picked up a ham and cheese flute bread and almond croissant for brekky on the hoof. The ride turned out to be fairly reasonable and we were soon pulling into the abbey set in a picturesque valley. It was now a world heritage site and there were already many cars, a coach and lots of bikes at the entrance. We instantly recognised the bikes of four English people we had seen at Flavigny the day before and who we had conversed with.
Inside we marvelled at this stunning place and it's immaculate gardens. The whole place had been saved and completely restored by the current owning family after a member of the Montgolfier, hot air balloon fame, family had it turned into a paper factory following its demise as an abbey over the centuries. The pictures of the before and after are staggering. Thank god for people with the desire to spend their fortunes on this sort of project as we all benefit so greatly and only at a cost of 19€ for 2 adults.
Cistercians are a funny breed, they are all about simplicity and hard work. The huge church building is hardly decorated so that the 200 monks who initially inhabited the place would not be distracted from their prayers. There is one statue of Mary which is quite magnificent.
The tombstone of the bishop of Norfolk who threw his hand in back in blighty and came here as a benefactor is seen in the choir as well as the stones of Burgundian nobility in the name of eppoisse. Later to make a very nice cheese I believe. Nice touch having his wife beside him for ever and eternity.
Directly behind the statue of mary, We saw the door of the dead, the exit from the church to the cemetery. Up stone steps into a huge dormitory. An upside down hull of an old wooden galleon appeared to have been used for the roof. The monks had to sleep in a dormitory and on hay mattresses. No wonder they made 9 per cent ales.
We saw the chapter room where the bishop would give his dailyep talk and work roster. The drying room the infirmary, the fabulous forge.
We saw the trout pond, symbolic of the fact that the monks farmed trout in the ponds and sold them to nobility for handsome profit.
The whole place was a delight and it was difficult to put the camera down. We bumped into the bikers. A riding holiday along the Burgoyne, they were making our riding escapades look risible covering up to 50kms per day, but having a brilliant time.
We left at 1 and free wheeled 3kms back to the village of marmagne where we spotted a well patronised roadside cafe. We lunched on salad buffet, streak hache in green pepper sauce which I was not overly impressed with, Collette however enjoyed her roti poulet. Apple tart for the crew and I had a cafe lyonnaise. Coffee chocolat with biscuits and lashings of whipped cream. Horrible! Coffee to finish all washed down with a pichet of rose.
We were back at Doucette by 3 and settled down to some Internet stuff as free wifi available and we were out of orange allowance so a brucie bonus.
The Americans had been at the launderette and on their return we had some wine and they suggested we go to a local bar tonight where 3 guys who were travelling across France and buying their supper and beds by performing a mix of Irish French and American music.
We caught up with them at the bar at 8. The 3 lads were already playing and very good they were too. Jan had taken a picture when they first started in front of about 10 people.
We sat outside with by this time about 30 locals in prime seats which the Americans had saved for us. Irish bagpipes, guitar and fiddle got everybody tapping toes and drinking too freely. I looked nervously over my shoulder expecting to see a smiling devil at the cafe bar.
They played for two hours, had my first hogaarden of the trip, very nice too and with the girls drinking ricard, we bought the cd of course. we were starting to think about swaying home when suddenly a chap slaps dean on the shoulder. He looked round to see the four guests from Southampton who were expected tomorrow screaming with delight at him. He practically fell off of his chair and made welcomes that only an American can make. He had met andy 40yrs ago when on the hamble and they had been life long friends since. Dean used to work in andy's chippy to make some extra money and babysit his kids. Together they made for a very loud couple, I was waiting for someone to start having a quiet word as the band were still playing. Things settled and they all got drinks. Dean now had a huge problem. His American guests were leaving Tomorrow and on a 29 ft boat he now had 7 people to berth.
I did the decent thing and offered beds to bill and jan who very gratefully accepted. Back at Doucette, bill poured himself a jug of vodka with a dash of juice and I stuck with beer. Next door was bedlam! By midnight, our guests were practically commotose jan retired and bill staggered around trying to find his passport. Dean was gushing his thanks and offering me half pint glasses of cote du rhone. The bedlam of organising his new guests aboard was still in full flow when bill finally fell into bed with safely stashed passport, the crew and I were able to bed down at the end of a great night. We had even missed dinner!
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