Day 7: A hard-won but worthwhile victory

Today was maybe the hardest day of cycling we’ve ever done in Europe (though it was still easier than several of our days in PEI last year). Heat and hills were the culprits.

We set out from Sedan quite early (OK, 8:30), knowing that the day was going to be quite warm. The first 10 kilometres or so were a breeze, since we were still on the lovely bike path along the Meuse. But all that ended shortly before Mouzon, where the Route Verte came to an end. Apparently other sections will be constructed this summer, but that was no help for us now. So we followed the posted signs for the Meuse à vélo route, which took us, somewhat contradictorily, away from the Meuse, up into the rolling hills of farmland above the Meuse valley.

A field of daisies

In some ways, it was quite nice to climb up and get a look out over the countryside, but with the ever increasing warmth and the at times quite steep hills, it seemed a bit like a bait-and-switch. Our legs are simply not used to this sort of effort, and with the cool spring we have had in Montreal, our inner thermostats are still in winter mode!

At any rate, after more than 3 hours, we found ourselves picnicking in the town of Pouilly-sur-Meuse, which, in some respects, is the genesis of this trip. Earlier this year, as I was doing some research for a translation about the treasure of Pouilly-sur-Meuse, I came across the Meuse à vélo website. We ended up not doing the whole route, but it was the start of the planning for this adventure.

Picnic in Pouilly-sur-Meuse

As we cycle up and down these hills, through these small villages, the many monuments reminded us of how greatly this region suffered during WW I. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to live through such a terrible time, and travelling in these areas always reminds me of how lucky I am to have been born in a country that promotes peace and during an era in which the horrors of the world wars are already three and four generations in the past. And I’m terrified that globally, we are starting to forget the lessons of the past...

We stop to read the history of an important WW I battle

By 2 pm, we had rolled into the little town of Stenay and our lodging for the evening, the Moulin à Cygne hotel, which has turned out to be yet another one of those unforgettable places you encounter during your travels. For a very reasonable price we have a three-room suite with a well-appointed kitchens and those little touches (like ironed bed linen) that make you feel like you’ve travelled 100 years back in time.

Just across the street is the Musèe de la bière, and it appears to be beer festival weekend in northern France, because the museum is hosting a little festival too. This one is much more modest though, and we actually enjoyed spending an hour or two there. I even met a fellow Albertan—the son of a Frenchman who had worked at the Cold Lake Air Force base in the 1960s. He moved back to France with his family as a teenager and doesn’t speak English anymore. But it was a neat reminder of how small the world really is...

A fine end to the day (spot the chickens!)