Day 10: Carcassonne

The camp site was perfectly situated for watching Le Tour, as the route used the access road for the site. I happened to pick a corner with no less than three groups from Wales on it. I lent my large flag to one couple from Risca, as I had also brought the small flag from my bike to the road side. I instructed them they were to guard it with their lives, as I couldn't stand the ignominy of returning home, were I to loose the colours.


A Smurf-tastic Tour de France float.


Being early in the stage, the peliton came through almost fully formed (a small chase group preceded them slightly, presumably seeking some green jersey sprint points somewhere up ahead).


BMC cycling team seemed to be driving the pace of the peliton; stretched out in a long chain connected to the main bunch.

I waved my flag at the Team Sky support cars that followed, and received a toot, and a wave from the first and second respectively.

After the tour I had the day to explore Carcassonne.


My first look at "La Cite".


Quite by accident, I found my self entering the city by a little used windy stair case away from the busy main gates. Approaching Carcassonne this way was made the experience somehow more authentic, than using the "tourist trap" main gates as I did later on.


The medevil city is very pretty and it was easy to imagine my self strolling down the streets of Storm Wind in the World of Warcraft, or as a character in Assassin's creed. The awnings in this scene made me think of bouncing around like I was in a platform game.


Flours before the latticed windows of an old inn.

There were many vendors of weaponry, and I almost rose to the purchase of a sword, but was concerned about problems at customs.
In the evening I had a meal of a local, medevil dish "casoulette".

Tragedy struck though, as somewhere in the hustle and bustle of the city the duck and I were separated.

Duck at the main gates (this was the last time I saw him *sniff*)

I think that nothing might epitomize feeling silly quite so much as wandering a fortified town in search of one's duck and having the words "small pastique duck" spat back at you by the matredie of the restaurant where you ate, after inquiring if it had been found. Despite many hours of searching I was unable to reunite with the duck.
I feel quite sad about that.


Searching around for the duck, I found that the city had a pleasant feel to it at night. This is the main square, which has only restaurants and bars on it, providing pleasant aromas.


The ambiance provided by the various sorts of lights in the restaurants was quite pleasant.




By night a brook down the hill from the fortified city takes on an ethereal appearance.