The quest for the gentlest possible travel isn't without its pitfalls. We learn that the hard way once again taking the train from Avignon to Gaillac. The journey involves two changes: one in Narbonne and one in Toulouse. To soften the travel time a little, we book a night in Toulouse. The first part goes smoothly: the train is empty at Avignon station, and it starts there too. So it's easy to get on, take our time and settle in properly.
Our train is on time at Narbonne and we hurry to catch the connection, 20 minutes in theory. But a problem on the line between Perpignan and Narbonne has changed the day's service. Our train now departs from our station, which is good news, but the driver has to come by car from Perpignan, which is bad news. We wait more than an hour before our locomotive finally starts moving.
The Toulouse–Montpellier line is overloaded because of the incident and we crawl along the whole way, so much so that we decide to get off 20 kilometres from Toulouse. We're on the platform when Stéphane has a flash of clarity and wonders if he's forgotten something. Cassandre shouts: "the trailer wheels!" and he runs back to grab them before the doors close. Disaster narrowly averted, we swear never again to separate the wheels from the rest, even to make room for other passengers.
Having left on the 8:11 train, we arrive in Toulouse around 3 pm and take possession of a charming little Airbnb for the evening and night. Since we love the city, we just drop off our bikes and head back out for a walk in the centre. We find a big square with a playground and spend the end of the afternoon there before going home to eat and sleep.
Day 1
The next morning, we really start our bike trip. We take the train again from Toulouse to Gaillac and get off to meet friends at a food-truck festival. In an unlikely industrial estate, a dozen trucks are gathered around a central area with chairs and tables. The place is well thought out, with play areas for children. We feast there, then set off for about thirty kilometres to our friends' home in Albi. The road is unremarkable, winding along small lanes to avoid the big roads criss-crossing the area. Drizzle joins us and we speed through the Tarn farmland at a good pace. Clémence makes the most of this time in her mobile bedroom to have a little nap.
She's thrilled to arrive and find a big friend, ten-year-old Anaé. In the late afternoon we take advantage of a sunny spell to stroll through Albi's little streets and glimpse the old town from afar. Sainte-Cécile Cathedral dominates the landscape, and the red-tinted streets around it make a delightful setting. Still, we'd rather save the visit for the next morning, and we go home to share a pleasant evening with friends.
Day 2
We get up relatively late, as Clémence made the most of her friend all evening. She went to bed at a very unusual hour for her, which allows us a semblance of a lie-in. After a pleasant breakfast with friends, we all ride into the centre of Albi. We have to find our way around streets closed for a well-known triathlon. We learn in passing that the swim, due to take place in the Tarn, has been cancelled because of the strong current in the river. That worries us a little, as we're going to follow it to its source in Lozère and fully intend to swim.
After parking our bikes, we explore on foot with our Albi friends. The old town is superb, full of cobbles and red brick. Countless nooks let us get lost in these lanes full of history. Between the Cathar remains and the influence of the great painter Toulouse-Lautrec, lovers of art and culture can't get bored. However, with two children we prefer to stroll, admire the panoramic views and eat on the terrace of Les Arcades restaurant on the Place du Cloître Saint-Salvy.
At 2 pm we get in the saddle to start the real bike trip along the Tarn. Once again — and it's the black spot of almost every French city — it's very hard to get out of Albi. Fortunately we follow the GPS, but the road is very busy, signs are missing and the route isn't exactly inviting. You have to cross a huge roundabout on a main road to finally find the start of the quiet route. We're experienced enough to position ourselves well and face the stream of cars, but we understand why some people are put off. After that the cycle route is well signposted; it follows the river and offers views plunging down to it.
We pass through little villages with picturesque names like Saint-Juéry, Le Truel or Ambialet, where we stop. We make use of a playground for a slide break and take possession of our room at 4 pm.
Where we slept: the Auberg'Inn hotel. Beyond its fabulous pun of a name, we had a superb evening here; Clémence slept very well and breakfast was generous.
On the road